Don't want to miss a word? Type your email in the box if you'd like us to pop the Happenence blog posts straight into your email inbox.
Name:
Email:
You're welcome to change your mind at any time.

All Posts By Catherine Oughtibridge

A very small post.

This is going to be a very small post, mostly because I’m writing it on a very small screen.

Today I shall move house. As you can imagine, the hovel looks chaotic. I have so much stuff! Although apparently relatively few clothes. The bags of books to clothes ratio currently stands at 10:1.

What happens regarding the internet remains a mystery. It may, or may not, be a while…

share

Luncheon and some posh frescos

Setting: A monastery in the beautiful Italian countryside that was converted for living in by none monks. The walls were decorated with the original Napolionic frescos from the time Napolean popped in for a visit.

Food: Bread, soup, pasta, more pasta of different variety, salmon, potatoes, fennel, strawberries, more strawberries, cherries, and some sort of pastry thing.

Drinks: Alcoholic and voluminous.

Guests: Of mixed nationality, perfumed and wearing loud jewellery.

Transportation: Open top car, driven by the Italian Stallion.

It all sounds pretty perfect. The food was good, the views from the monastery were stunning. Racing through the Italian countryside in an open top car in the sunshine was exhilarating and on arrival, windswept and grinning with a bottle of wine in my hands, we were met by a flurry of hand shakes and cheek kisses.

Cautiously we stepped into the monastery, I accepted a glass of prosecco and meandered through the rooms staring at the ceilings, floors and walls. The most impressive was the Napoleonic frescoes which included small smiling faces of some of the monks who had been there when Napoleon visited peering down from the ceiling.

Soup was brought out, and I quickly ate some bread to help absorb alcohol. My glass was being regularly refilled by many of the gracious men who passed by with a bottle in their hands.

But there it all kind of stopped.

At a K-town party (ie. one of my tribes’ parties, including the mother’s fancy dress party) there’s a general feeling that you don’t want it to all come to an end. People may be tired and in need of a moment of solitude, but there’s an overwhelming tug towards staying just that little longer. The accumulation of people, those friends, it’s all something incredibly special. There’s a just one more song feeling.

The monastery luncheon had a ‘done my due now’ feeling about it. And to add to that, the bathroom wasn’t exactly clean either.

 

[Written last year but not published.]
share

An embarrassment and an addiction to self evaluation

Doodle - Life choices

The photo

Last Friday I had my photo taken. Considering that my body was insisting that I should crawl into bed – two hours before, I’d collapsed in the middle of the office corridor – the photo doesn’t look too bad. It’s professionally taken. The angles are good. Yes my eyes are typically asymmetrical, but that’s because I’m made that way and is no failing of the photographer.

Imperfection in my features isn’t a problem. What is, is that my picture looks like a school photo, minus the tie. I write about some serious grown-up topics at work. Often whilst sat at my desk with my legs tucked up beneath me (because I’m bad), typing with one hand whilst the other cradles my Hello Kitty mug. Last week I caught myself sucking my thumb – which just goes to show how tired I was.

It’s not a complaint that I look so young, just an observation.

I came across an article today, written about young woman who has better electronics skills than I do. It worries me how long it took me to accept the story. The picture didn’t match my understandng of a genius physicist, it was of a girl.

[The original article I read wasn’t this article, and only had a photo of Eesha Khare, but I’ve lost it to the internet.]

I’m five years older than the woman in question. I’ve earnt my physics degree. I even surpassed the expectations of both my electronics professor and myself by getting a high first in his module. Yet, despite this, on first impression of Eesha Khare my brain couldn’t process her identity as the inventor of a super capacitor.

Just like my brain rejects the idea that I can understand electronics. I state that I can do electronics like it’s a joke. It’s that same feeling as I have to my current photo, me, 23 looking 13, isn’t suitable for association with the serious grown-up work I’m doing.

Woman on bicycle doodle

Stressful thoughts

I’m guessing that my body’s moment of not working on Friday was stress related. I’m assuming, yes blindly, that my whole medical dilemma is stress triggered. You can call it a hypothesis.

Such moments happen when I’m internally exhausted. I’d slept for an average of 9 hours each night for the week preceding the embarrassment and on Saturday night I had just under 14 hours.

But what could be stressing me? There’s leaving the Hovel and moving house, but why would I worry about that? I’m moving in with the boyfriend, but I like him and he can do the washing-up. We’re going to have some issues, mostly regarding music and the radio (he abhors silence), but I’m sure he’ll learn to appreciate music all the more for having less of it.

Maybe it’s the inevitable point in my contract at work where suggestions of a new contract are implied and a discussion date is set, 4th June. I originally applied and took the job because I decided that I needed to get a job. Some thought went into it. The role isn’t physics, it allows me to learn to write better and it was in the right place. Why they chose me I’m not sure.

To my shock, I found I actually rather like the company. I like the people I work with. I like the work.

But, and there’s always a but, is staying settling? Is settling necessarily bad?

If I looked elsewhere where would I look?

Running between mountains doodle.

The actionable list

Lists are great things. I ask a question to myself. What would I do if I had no limitation of resource.

In no particular order…

1. I’d write stories. I’d start with my Ancient Egyptian novel and work on it until I was happy. People can say let go, but if I had no limitations I’d keep it until I wanted to let go. I’d tinker away and I’d play.

2. I’d study quantum mechanics. I know this sounds crazy, and probably most crazy of all to myself, but I love quantum mechanics. In my degree studying it always was rather rushed, but there’s something in the way it fits together that is truly magical.

3. I’d travel. I’d walk up small mountains and trek through forests. I’d sit and eat ice-cream with the elderly in the sunshine whilst watching children play across the square. I’d test myself. Go places my imagination is to tame to dream of.

4. I’d paint. For hours. In the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning and allow myself to be absorbed in what I was creating without worrying that I ought to be doing something more productive.

5. I’d have a moonshot*. A crazy idea to pursue with all likelihood of failure but the faintest glimmer of possibility.

6. I’d have amazing parties for all the people I love – cocktails and barbecues in the great British summer, sledge rides and northern light hunting in the depths of the Norwegian winter with a Christmas turkey and lots of cranberry sauce.

7. I’d do stuff to help people. I’d give my time, I’d find people I could help by applying my brain to their problems. I’d go out of my way to make people’s faces light up with wonder.

 

It’s irresponsible to cause alarm from the floor in the middle of the office corridor. It’s not dignified. My life needs a better routine. I need a more normal sleep pattern that leaves me with time in the day where I have energy, but I’m not at work.

I’m not sure how to go about this.

Is the underlying stress just this introspective wondering about my future and my self-worth?

What am I truly chasing? Am I open to a future filled with possibilities, or is it that I’m too scared to close some down in order to move forward? I can’t ghost write my life. That girl staring back at me in the photograph might look young and naïve, but she is me. The authentic, real me who is clever. She can write about complex serious topics, she does understand enough physics that she earnt a degree in the subject and she’s more than adequately skilled with a soldering iron.

Why is that so damn difficult to accept?

 

 

 

*Moonshots are what Google calls its really crazy long-term, high-impact projects.

share

The selfish Kate and the concientious Midget

People are selfish. The Midget takes issue with this. In her mind, there’s something evil about being selfish.

I thrive on selfishness.

Ok, so maybe the Midget is one of the most conscientious people around, and yes, maybe on one or more occasion I have been called manipulative. Mind you, that’s mostly by the Midget, and only really when her ideals don’t align with mine.

But selfishness helps me stay happy. And whilst my happiness is a very selfish need, it affects those condemned to work beside me, or those whose genes I share. Plus there’s the dear darling Boyfriend who suffers greatly if I’m a moping mess.

Selfishness allows me to say no. Since I am first, my time is organised to my priorities.

Flying carpet doodle

Meditation – another selfish habit.

Selfish but kind

But just because I’m selfish doesn’t mean I’m unkind. The only person I’ve ever intentionally hurt was the Midget, and that was 15 years ago and so doesn’t really count. No. On the contrary to being selfishly unkind, I go out of my way to be selfishly kind. I’m happy to invest the hours in obtaining good company. For the most part the hours pay off.

I’m safe because I know that I have a multitude of friends that I can fall back on.

If I was truly altruistic wouldn’t I be hunting down the person in the world most in need of a friend, and giving them someone to talk to? Instead I invest my time in people I like and who have lots to give me in return.

The Noph is my sound box, a conscience that sits on the sofa beside me letting my introspective meanderings flourish whilst always pulling me, ever so gently, back to reality. Rapunzel is an inspiration. A flash of colour always reminding me that doing what I want to do is the key to happiness. Singing stood on a chair whilst perfectly sober and perfectly out of tune isn’t just a dreadful racket, but also a wonder of humanity. And yet, Rapunzel and the Noph also remind me that hard work, the washing-up and work is all very, very necessary. Sometimes I need reminding.

All my relationships are selfish. But just because my primary goal is my happiness, doesn’t mean I don’t have secondary goals. I believe that we’re foremost responsible for our own happiness. Whilst I can’t make any of my loved ones happy by myself, I can support them in being happy. It’s in my best interest that my friends are happy.

Selfish but generous

All this selfishness leads me to question why I volunteer. If you volunteer yourself, you probably find the question rhetorical. For me, life is a search for meaning. When I volunteer I have an effect. I mean something to someone. It’s particularly evident when I work with kids – it’s painted in their faces that I mean something. I have the power to help and volunteering takes this power and translates it into action. Actions that build my confidence. It’s a repeated idea that the giver often gains more happiness than the receiver.

Doodle a day 27 March

Work sometimes feels like this.

Selfish but hard-working

Then there is work. I guess I have always had a lot of hostility towards this idea of work. Engaging my brain throughout the best part of five days a week, every week for a company… It sounds like a lot of effort just for some pennies. I get it being necessary. I do. But even so. 40 hours?

Yet work can be rewarding. I love learning and in my job I’m always learning. I’m building a skill set which makes me more employable and better equipped to help those I want to help. I love writing, and my writing is flourishing. I’m also making a difference. Ok, yes it’s within a company, but the company’s values are aligned with my own.

My selfish heart wishes that the 40 hours were a little less rigid. Some days I just want to go to a beach. But most days I roll back into the hovel feeling that I’ve done something productive, and that makes me feel good.

Selfish but unashamed

So yes, I lead a selfish life. One which at its core is kindness, because I need kindness for my happiness, and the sharing of my time and skills, because I need to be valued. Thinking about it, it’s not evil at all.

Nothing at all to be ashamed of.

Would you, like the Midget, disagree?

 

share

A small rant about the label on the back of my shampoo

Naturally

Naturally healthy, gorgeous hair enhances a woman’s natural beauty. [Blah blah blah.] Magical paraben free formulas that gently transform your hair… naturally.

Yes, this example is from the label on a bottle of shampoo. Yes, I should avoid the shampoo for plain and simple animal testing reasons. There’s no bunny on the packaging. But why have ‘naturally’ as the heading, first word and last word of the paragraph. It’s like keyword cramming on a webpage. It’s completely unnecessary.

I’m busy washing my hair, and whilst normally I’d take this time to ponder life, I’m stuck thinking about this unnatural use of ‘naturally’. This marketing lark is seeping into my brain.

When I read the back of a shampoo bottle I expect some sort of ‘flowers and fruit make your hair beautiful’. But I think shampoo copy-writers could get a bit more creative. Every bottle is the same. They float between flowers, fruit and scientific nonsense.

It’s the science that annoys me the most. If there was some interesting factual information on the back I’d be intrigued. I am at heart a scientist. However, “has a unique microcirculation action” doesn’t count as interesting science. It’s not science. It’s not interesting. I actually find it frustrating because I’m not stupid, but I don’t understand how orange flower extract can have unique microcirculation action, and I don’t understand how momentarily improving the blood flow in some tiny vessels is going to make my hair more beautiful. Even if it’s true, is it really going to have an effect at a level that’s noticeable. I imagine the temperature of the water coming out of the shower will have more of an effect on my capillaries.

Rant over. Time to breathe.

Doodle a day - 17 April

An unnatural landscape.

share