People seem to talk a lot right now about the fact that you don’t really know who you are talking to on the net. Something particually relevent as a subject of an annoymus blog I guess. You see on this blog I am in some ways more me than in other places. I tell you things because I don’t know you. Although in fairness I am very open about my life most of the time – some would say more than I should be!
So are we ourselves here? Let me take this on a few stages. If Two people fall in love on the internet, two strangers connected only by words on a screen. If he says he is 6 ft 1 and has a jaw line to die for, and if she says she is slim and has hair so red it makes you think of a setting sun, if for two years they talk and then at last arrange to meet, only to discover he is 5’4 and has four chins, and she is actually a he..then where they ever in love? Did they just fall in love with a fantasy or did in those two years the pictures they paint represent something inside. Let me go a stage further. Two people meet in real life, she pretends to be adventurous, a can do kind of girl, and he he makes out he loves the arts. They fall in love at the opera, and over time become what they pretended to be. Have they fallen in love with each other? What is it that defines us? Am I more me here or in “real life” and how about you?
We all edit. We pick the parts of our life to display to others. When you meet someone in a bar and they say they are called brain and work for a bank we don’t question this – why should we? We believe what people tell us, we accept the parts of there lives they want to share and we mostly avoid looking in there closest. For me this blog is often that closet. It’s the dirty washing. So I wonder..even with all the self editing, even with the careful selection of what to tell you about my day…is this actually more real?
Yours truly
The Broken Man
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Thursday, 9 October 2008
Friday, 26 September 2008
The Long-Suffering Wife?
Hi!
Broken Man is away at a training weekend for the next couple of days, so he has asked me to "guest blog" for him. I've never done this before, so please don't all desert his blog while he is away, or I will look very bad! On the other hand, don't give me more comments than him, or he will feel very bad. Not that we are competative, or anything!
In case you hadn't guessed, I am Broken Man's "long-suffering wife", although I have to say that I don't feel very "long-suffering". It's something I've been thinking about over the last couple of days. As most of you know, Broken Man is dyspraxic. This manifests itself in what most people expect, the clumsiness, but in many other ways as well - above average intellegence, very logical thought progressions and very poor memory.
We have learnt to cope with these issues pretty well; they are just part of our lives now, so we don't even realise that we are "coping", to us we are simply living. It didn't occur to me how alien the way we live is to others until a small incident with a forgotten laptop today.
Broken Man left the house for his training weekend today after I did. Normally, if I'm not around I would leave a checklist of things to remember to put in the car, but this morning I forgot. When I got home, I realised that he had forgotten his laptop. I was due to visit a friend, but, as she has a son who is dyspraxic too, I was able to call her up, and just simply say that Broken Man had forgotten his laptop and I needed to take it to him, so I would be late. She understood exactly why I needed to go.
I only realised how relieved I was that it had been this particular friend I had been letting down in the car on the way home. I have been in this situation before, and have received a torent of well-meaning "advice" and comments from other friends. People say things like "it was up to him to remember, I wouldn't be chasing after him" or "surely he can manage just for a weekend", or "you do far too much for him".
I have got to the stage where I nod politely and move on. It doesn't seem to change anyone's opinion when I try to explain how panicked Broken Man would be if he had to try to make hand-written notes, and how he would invariably lose the notes at some point, or why it really isn't his fault that he forgets things, or the style in which he writes, which *requires* the use of "cut-and-paste", necessitating a computer.
Many people seem to feel a sense of indignation for what I "have to do for" Broken Man. I wish they wouldn't. I don't. He has his difficulties, and I have mine. No-one seems to feel indignant on his behalf because I have such bad panic attacks when I go near a dentist or a hospital that he has to take time off work to accompany me, so why do they feel that way about me helping him out when he needs it?
Dyspraxia is a very hidden disability. I'm sure that no-one would think it odd if I helped my blind husband cross the road, but they do think it's odd that I will go out of my way to help Broken Man in the areas he finds difficult (in the same way that he helps me in areas I find difficult - it's a 50/50 thing!). Our relationship works - I just wonder why so many people feel the need to fix it!
So, I will sign off as "the long-suffering wife", as long as you don't think I really am! :)
Broken Man is away at a training weekend for the next couple of days, so he has asked me to "guest blog" for him. I've never done this before, so please don't all desert his blog while he is away, or I will look very bad! On the other hand, don't give me more comments than him, or he will feel very bad. Not that we are competative, or anything!
In case you hadn't guessed, I am Broken Man's "long-suffering wife", although I have to say that I don't feel very "long-suffering". It's something I've been thinking about over the last couple of days. As most of you know, Broken Man is dyspraxic. This manifests itself in what most people expect, the clumsiness, but in many other ways as well - above average intellegence, very logical thought progressions and very poor memory.
We have learnt to cope with these issues pretty well; they are just part of our lives now, so we don't even realise that we are "coping", to us we are simply living. It didn't occur to me how alien the way we live is to others until a small incident with a forgotten laptop today.
Broken Man left the house for his training weekend today after I did. Normally, if I'm not around I would leave a checklist of things to remember to put in the car, but this morning I forgot. When I got home, I realised that he had forgotten his laptop. I was due to visit a friend, but, as she has a son who is dyspraxic too, I was able to call her up, and just simply say that Broken Man had forgotten his laptop and I needed to take it to him, so I would be late. She understood exactly why I needed to go.
I only realised how relieved I was that it had been this particular friend I had been letting down in the car on the way home. I have been in this situation before, and have received a torent of well-meaning "advice" and comments from other friends. People say things like "it was up to him to remember, I wouldn't be chasing after him" or "surely he can manage just for a weekend", or "you do far too much for him".
I have got to the stage where I nod politely and move on. It doesn't seem to change anyone's opinion when I try to explain how panicked Broken Man would be if he had to try to make hand-written notes, and how he would invariably lose the notes at some point, or why it really isn't his fault that he forgets things, or the style in which he writes, which *requires* the use of "cut-and-paste", necessitating a computer.
Many people seem to feel a sense of indignation for what I "have to do for" Broken Man. I wish they wouldn't. I don't. He has his difficulties, and I have mine. No-one seems to feel indignant on his behalf because I have such bad panic attacks when I go near a dentist or a hospital that he has to take time off work to accompany me, so why do they feel that way about me helping him out when he needs it?
Dyspraxia is a very hidden disability. I'm sure that no-one would think it odd if I helped my blind husband cross the road, but they do think it's odd that I will go out of my way to help Broken Man in the areas he finds difficult (in the same way that he helps me in areas I find difficult - it's a 50/50 thing!). Our relationship works - I just wonder why so many people feel the need to fix it!
So, I will sign off as "the long-suffering wife", as long as you don't think I really am! :)
Monday, 22 September 2008
Stories for my Baby
A friend recently objected to our desire to avoid "children's bibles" for our baby. I can't stand them. Everything about them winds me up, and yet, as my friend pointed out, possibly having made sure that their christening present is an interlinear Bible (one that shows the Hebrew, Greek and English translation) might be going to far. The thing is – for me, that’s the whole point – I don’t want to present something watered down – but I do want to tell the great stories – to bring them to life, and I think sometimes we try very hard to avoid doing that with children; the Bible is full of blood and gore, and so we steer clear of certain passages.
For me, I can't think of a more exciting story – I want to tell my child the stories of our ancestors, the story of the people of God. I want to paint pictures in the air of the King who ran naked down the street, and the man who set lions on yobs, and the God who walked upon the earth. I want it vivid and vibrant and full of life, but, in that, I don’t want the point to get lost, I don’t want it dumbed down. I want it told as the sages of old told tales.
And so...while a story needs speaking not writing, I am going to write as a starting point. Saturday has been my traditional day for theology on this blog, and so I am going to stick with it, using Saturdays on here to tell each week a different story – a taste of the bible. If I manage it I will get them together with time, and bind them together, but, more importantly, I will try my best to let them loose - to let them sing, dance, twist and turn through the air; stories of selfish brothers, of wicked uncles, of love and romance, and yes even lust! Stories of peeping toms, and murders, of tent pegs through the head, and a God who screams out from creation "I love you", and then whispers it in our ear on the darkest night as a crown of thorns is pressed onto our God.
Yours as ever
The Broken Man
For me, I can't think of a more exciting story – I want to tell my child the stories of our ancestors, the story of the people of God. I want to paint pictures in the air of the King who ran naked down the street, and the man who set lions on yobs, and the God who walked upon the earth. I want it vivid and vibrant and full of life, but, in that, I don’t want the point to get lost, I don’t want it dumbed down. I want it told as the sages of old told tales.
And so...while a story needs speaking not writing, I am going to write as a starting point. Saturday has been my traditional day for theology on this blog, and so I am going to stick with it, using Saturdays on here to tell each week a different story – a taste of the bible. If I manage it I will get them together with time, and bind them together, but, more importantly, I will try my best to let them loose - to let them sing, dance, twist and turn through the air; stories of selfish brothers, of wicked uncles, of love and romance, and yes even lust! Stories of peeping toms, and murders, of tent pegs through the head, and a God who screams out from creation "I love you", and then whispers it in our ear on the darkest night as a crown of thorns is pressed onto our God.
Yours as ever
The Broken Man
Thursday, 4 September 2008
For A Friend....
The discussion yesterday about pregnancy got me thinking again. One of the big issues with teenage pregnancy is it is often the “good kids” who get pregnant. The reason for this is that they are not expecting to have sex, and so are less likely to be carrying protection.
One of the ways we attempt to combat this with our young people is by asking people to “carry for a friend”. By carrying, we tell them that if a friend finds themselves in a situation they will be able to say "here is some protection". Because they are not carrying it for themselves – and we encourage people to talk it through with parents – the embarrassment of carrying it is gone – and yet if it's needed it's there.
In other News:
Finance:
We can take on a debt management plan which would help – a lot – the problem is when we do this we will have no access to credit cards etc anymore, and when we sell we will need to pay the soliciters (as in negative equity that money won't be there where we sell). As such we can't go on a debt management plan yet. Things are, however, improving. We have taken the money we need out the bank for food etc (we take it out at the start of the month so that if things bounce it's not the food bill that suffers) – and we have only just run out of money this month. Last month it was the 1st when the bank was over overdraft – and this month that hasn’t hit in till the 4th.
A book I was looking at yesterday asked me to look at the Lord’s prayer and how it speaks to my personal situation right now. It will come as no shock that in tears I prayed over and over again – "Lord God, forgive me my debts".
It Moves
When I crawled into bed last night and wrapped my arm around my wife and baby, the baby's kicking seemed more pronounced than ever; this is one energetic baby! The midwife at the last appointment was apparently surprised at how active the baby is – apparently the more active they are in the womb the more active they are in life. Yes, folks, it seems we have a hyperactive baby. "Surely not", I hear you say, "you will have a baby who would prefer to sit and read a good book than cause mayhem – surely – your child will be born with a taste for sitting and having a bit of a think…"
If I Were a Rich Man
"Dear God, you made many, many poor people.
I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor.
But it's no great honor either!
So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?"
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There would be one long staircase just going up,
And one even longer coming down,
And one more leading nowhere, just for show.
I'd fill my yard with chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks
For the town to see and hear.
Squawking just as noisily as they can.
And each loud "cheep" and "swaqwk" and "honk" and "quack"
Would land like a trumpet on the ear,
As if to say "Here lives a wealthy man."
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man's wife
With a proper double-chin.
Supervising meals to her heart's delight.
I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock.
Oy, what a happy mood she's in.
Screaming at the servants, day and night.
The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like a Solomon the Wise.
"If you please, Reb Tevye..."
"Pardon me, Reb Tevye..."
Posing problems that would cross a rabbi's eyes!
And it won't make one bit of difference if i answer right or wrong.
When you're rich, they think you really know!
If I were rich, I'd have the time that I lack
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.
And I'd discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
Lord who made the lion and the lamb,
You decreed I should be what I am.
Would it spoil some vast eternal plan?
If I were a wealthy man.
Maybe..its a God thing that I am not a rich man
Yours as ever
The Broke and Broken Man
One of the ways we attempt to combat this with our young people is by asking people to “carry for a friend”. By carrying, we tell them that if a friend finds themselves in a situation they will be able to say "here is some protection". Because they are not carrying it for themselves – and we encourage people to talk it through with parents – the embarrassment of carrying it is gone – and yet if it's needed it's there.
In other News:
Finance:
We can take on a debt management plan which would help – a lot – the problem is when we do this we will have no access to credit cards etc anymore, and when we sell we will need to pay the soliciters (as in negative equity that money won't be there where we sell). As such we can't go on a debt management plan yet. Things are, however, improving. We have taken the money we need out the bank for food etc (we take it out at the start of the month so that if things bounce it's not the food bill that suffers) – and we have only just run out of money this month. Last month it was the 1st when the bank was over overdraft – and this month that hasn’t hit in till the 4th.
A book I was looking at yesterday asked me to look at the Lord’s prayer and how it speaks to my personal situation right now. It will come as no shock that in tears I prayed over and over again – "Lord God, forgive me my debts".
It Moves
When I crawled into bed last night and wrapped my arm around my wife and baby, the baby's kicking seemed more pronounced than ever; this is one energetic baby! The midwife at the last appointment was apparently surprised at how active the baby is – apparently the more active they are in the womb the more active they are in life. Yes, folks, it seems we have a hyperactive baby. "Surely not", I hear you say, "you will have a baby who would prefer to sit and read a good book than cause mayhem – surely – your child will be born with a taste for sitting and having a bit of a think…"
If I Were a Rich Man
"Dear God, you made many, many poor people.
I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor.
But it's no great honor either!
So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?"
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There would be one long staircase just going up,
And one even longer coming down,
And one more leading nowhere, just for show.
I'd fill my yard with chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks
For the town to see and hear.
Squawking just as noisily as they can.
And each loud "cheep" and "swaqwk" and "honk" and "quack"
Would land like a trumpet on the ear,
As if to say "Here lives a wealthy man."
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man's wife
With a proper double-chin.
Supervising meals to her heart's delight.
I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock.
Oy, what a happy mood she's in.
Screaming at the servants, day and night.
The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like a Solomon the Wise.
"If you please, Reb Tevye..."
"Pardon me, Reb Tevye..."
Posing problems that would cross a rabbi's eyes!
And it won't make one bit of difference if i answer right or wrong.
When you're rich, they think you really know!
If I were rich, I'd have the time that I lack
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.
And I'd discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
Lord who made the lion and the lamb,
You decreed I should be what I am.
Would it spoil some vast eternal plan?
If I were a wealthy man.
Maybe..its a God thing that I am not a rich man
Yours as ever
The Broke and Broken Man
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