Blogger Spotlight: Musings and Leanings

Being a part of the universal bloggersphere is a privilege and one I intend never to take lightly. Partly because amidst those aggy, teenage tumblrs that are littered with reblogs of depressing, self-obsessed quotes and the blogs with nothing but pictures from fashion magazines and even those who use this cyber-space outlet as a journal for private rants rather than carefully articulated thoughts or memories, there are many inspiring gems. So, I thought I would, every so often, direct you to one of my favourite blogs be it fashion orientated, God orientated or just plain fun.

My first 'Blogger Spotlight' is my paternal homeslice Andrew Jackson. I helped him set up his blog at the start of January and he has done me proud ever since. His blog 'Musings and Leanings' is one of the most thoughtful, profound and eloquent blogs I have ever read. At the moment his posts are primarily concerned with updates on my Mum's health as she completes her cancer treatment, but as anyone who has encountered such a journey will tell you, it often creates a vacuum for deep musings. So for anyone who likes reading people's stories and enjoys having an insight into the workings of the mind of a 40 something lawyer turned charity worker from Bracknell then pop over to his blog.

I'll leave you with two of my favourite posts to get you started:

Summer Detox

I feel like I need to detox my life, strip everything back to basics. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm a natural hoarder of emotions, memories and random crap that I reassure myself I will use one day for a fantastically huge collage of my life or for novel inspiration. I keep clothes that I promise to wear when my midriff shrinks and my thighs no longer touch, which, let's face it, is never really going to happen in my lifetime. I have clippings from newspapers and letters, cards and signed programmes that I read late at night when my irrational, hormonal self is convinced that nobody cares and is at risk of writing and publishing terribly self-indulgent blog posts about how living alone and surrendering to the single life of a crazy cat lady really is the meaning of life.

I leave Bristol on Friday and what follows is a three week stint of being skint in Bracknell. This translates as 21 days to clear out all the emotional and material junk stored up in my drawers both physical and metaphorical. I'm going to tidy, donate, pray and meditate. I'm going to read books that expand my mind and books that articulate my feelings. I'm going to get rid of 1/3 of my wardrobe (I WILL BE RUTHLESS!) and actually make those dresses with my free patterns from Burdastyle. I'm going to clear my schedule and possibly delete my Facebook for a while, just to give myself absolute peace and remove the temptation of procrastination. My summer holiday on a budget, or indeed no budget for there is no dollar to constitute a budget, will be productive and it will be cleansing and it will be DEEPLY relaxing. Once again this blog will serve as self-inflicted accountability (or should that be self-donated, for indeed accountability, although annoying, is undeniably useful and necessary!)

So, ladies and gentleman, would you kindly raise your glasses to the summer of the Zen-Ellie. May she ooze calm, tranquillity and the aura of tidiness from this day forth.

Basically by the end of the Summer I want to be like this partially faceless girl, twirling in a sea of floating red mushrooms.

An Epiphany: Suffering is a Blessing.

11 months. Another milestone in the minefield of grief. I feel so disconnected from the life I shared with her. I think about where I was last year and where I am now, sitting content in the Bristol sunshine. It has suddenly dawned on me that I got everything I wanted out of this year. Everything. I barely recognise the girl in those old journal entries so confused, so bitter and clueless. Now that confusion has turned to clarity through faith, that bitterness to a bittersweet combination of peace and sadness that pumps continually through my veins and that cluelessness to a wisdom obtained only through the experiences that God has blessed me with.

A blessing. This is today's revelation. Suffering is a blessing, not because, as Thomas Mann would advocate, it makes us better artists but because it nurtures discipline and gratitude. The truth is God has blessed me through Annie's death; he has given me insight into his character and eternal promises. He has taught me so much through the life she lived and the impact she had on everybody. She was pure joy and pure fun. The friendship she gave me inspires me everyday. This blessing is of course not without its pain. Sometimes I feel like I've cried myself dry and there are still mornings where grief leaves me emotionally barren and I can't quite fathom the concept of her not being here anymore. I miss her sassyness and her fierce loyalty to her God, her church and her friends. her twitter feed makes me explode with giggles every time and her photos remind me that once this petite bundle of teenage beauty sat next to me in church, walked beside me and answered my text messages pretty much instantly.

I'll admit that there is still a fear of engaging with the reality of it all. It still feels to big and too devastating to comprehend. But I don't think I'll ever fully understand, I can only trust that God knew where our intertwined lives were headed, only plead with him to give me small glimpses of heaven and only allow myself moments to reflect and remember.

I never want to forget. I never want it to become something i can gloss over, partly because it has taught me so much about friendship, love, God and myself but also because my friend Angharad was the the sort of girl everyone should have the privilege of knowing and everyday I wish I had known her better because nothing I write will ever do her justice. This is why I continue to blog about her. It's my humble and albeit somewhat pathetic attempt at keeping her memory alive.

Pretentious.

Definition: Attempting to impress by affecting greater importance, talent, culture than is actually possessed.

Recently I have really rebuked myself for using this word, partly because every time I hear someone use it it makes me grumble and hiss, but also because I don't think it's a healthy opinion, particularly as a christian to hold.

I have learnt that what is pretentious to some is precious to others. I often throw the term around about certain academics and their literature, but who am I to devalue the hard work of someone who has dedicated years of research and study to bring that book or paper into my hands? Furthermore, although I may not find that theme or topic particularly relevant to my life etc. that person has actually taken the time to reveal a little more about humanity, the human condition and the culture and history of our planet. As for 'pretentious' language, just because someone has taken the time to develop their vocabulary beyond mine in order that their expression has more clarity and sharper precision doesn't mean I have the right to belittle them for it.

People often call university students pretentious which I can, in part, understand and there are some people I have met here in Bristol who really do seem to fit the term well. But that's the thing, they only 'seem' to fit the term. No one is really pretentious through and through and by writing someone off as pretentious I am not taking the time to understand and get to know them, let alone love them. On this topic, it really bugs me when people who have never experienced university judge students as being lazy, wealthy squanderers. I can only speak from my own experience, but it would be a pretty expensive mistake to go to university expecting to spend all your time partying and mincing around coffee shops. Most people have worked incredibly hard to get into university in the first place and are still dedicating a lot of time to their studies now. We enjoy learning (SHOCK HORROR!) It's so great to be a place where you can spend the whole afternoon discussing socialism, literature and grammar rules without being labeled as pretentious.

Ultimately I feel that the word pretentious comes from a place of insecurity. We label things as pretentious when we can't contribute to a conversation about them or when we are intimidated by someone's talent or intelligence. We write them off because we're too proud to admit that we are out of our depth. It's not an attractive term, it's not an encouraging term and, above all, it's not a godly term. Who are we to judge people and their interests? Who are we to write off groups of people because we think they're too pretentious for grace? I would even go so far as to argue that if we call someone pretentious then we are actually putting a mirror in front of ourselves and turning the term back on us. Using this word implies that we believe that we are coming from a position of authority that allows us to have an opinion. I'm not advocating that we stop thinking critically about certain things, but when it comes to people we must make sure that what we're saying is constructive. If it's going to make a person feel inferior and discouraged, just don't say anything. You are not God.