I'm riding this train, don't you want to ride this train?
Well, here we are. 2014. Or 214 as I call it.
This is it, my last opinion. Not ever, cos my head will probably never stop until I finally do. But this platform feels tired. I think it’s more a case of the history it’s pulling than the actual site itself. It’s constrained as technology leaps forward, many of my “friends” here are long gone. And what I write here is more for my benefit than for anyone else. I am my own pilot light, my own lighthouse. Telling the world how I feel, the world that echoes back to me in silence.
devida. 2005-2014.
10 years.
2 cities.
Lots of coffee.
Many kisses and more tears. And crow’s feet. And sore hips, and knees, and shoulders, and feet..
It’s impossible for me to pay homage to this website. It’s been everything from a confessor to a comforter to an inspiration over the years. I think I must’ve paid out around £200 over the last ten years in fees to keep my icons available, keep the background how I wanted it. Urban dawn. How I feel often getting out of work, regardless of the actual hour. The darkness is gone, now the dawn approaches and the world still turns. The idea of how long twenty-four hours can be. Anyone who’s travelled or has cared for newborns will attest this. A single day is a LONG time to be awake. I’ve been on the receiving end of such a trial only a handful of times. Either travelling or studying, you begin the work as the sun sets and finish as the dawn rises. It’s funny because one of my friends in work recently had to undertake the same trial. He studied all night and showed up to work at 8am the next morning. “Sleep is for beginners” one Hollywood Make-Up artist declared.
I don’t think it’s not for beginners, I think so much of life is created by hardship. Comfort and happiness are not the be all and end all. Sometimes things have to be uncomfortable in order to motivate. I wouldn’t advocate a Jigsaw (Saw movies) level of devotion here but you get the idea. Writing when you don’t want to; suffering for your art, for your job, for your family; it’s uncomfortable, but it creates.
I created.
Just reading through the archives of this journal is like a jump back into my past.
Two years in London training in the mid zeros. Then another eight years in Bristol working on the job, trying to put that training into practice. It really was a joke in hindsight. I’d learnt everything about my job in operating rooms in 4 weeks. And so I go straight from the training ward to an operating theatre in the space of a month. Yep, that’s a learning curve with the gradient of Everest. Impossible for me, and I can imagine impossible for the poor unfortunates who had to employ me during that time. I was the greenest greenhorn alive. I knew NOTHING. I think the only reason I got the job is that I was a nurse and I was a legacy for the Trust because my mom was employed there. Why they would hire someone out of college, a London college mind you, was bizarre.
It was hard.
I think I was scared for many years. And only recently have I developed coping mechanisms.
And good g-d there was the time in 2008!
And 2010.
The former was memorable for so many reasons. Learning to walk, learning to speak, learning to have an opinion. One of my more bizarre memories from that year was slowly doing laps on the hospital ward I was chained to for over a week. Going round and round trying to get my legs to move again. catheter pipe rubbing uncomfortably, trying to avoid the odd looks the nursing staff were giving me as I circled the unit like some kind of mad lady. The smell is burned upon my subconscious; to the extent I have mild PTSD over the whole experience. Certain smells give me mild flashbacks. Certain comments make me react more than society says I should. It’s my cross to bear; I’ve made my peace with it.
2010 I think was the dam effect I spoke about it in the previous post. It affected me in the summer and the drip-drip-drip only intensified before it finally ruptured in the winter of that year. it was terrible, and it hurt and I’m still not fully over it. What’s that phrase that addicts say?
One day at a time.
But life was more than just work. There was so much more than work during all of this. I finally had the chance to go on holiday. I hadn’t been on holiday in almost 6 years before I went to Toronto in 2007. Then New York followed. Then Poland, Israel, Jordan, New York again, and again, AND AGAIN! I’ve developed an affinity for the city that never sleeps, its Jewishness, its cosmopolitan vibe and ethnic diversity. The food, and the weather, and the pace that was so similar to London and yet at the same time so alien. It was comical the first time when I had to fly out of Newark to come home and was yet to get surgery so I was terrified I was going to be stopped and arrested and shipped away for detention. Comical. But at the time I was really worried.
Seeing Israel was special too. The Western Wall is a place that makes my heart skip when I think about it. It might be a spiritual side-effect or possibly the fact it was 42 degrees the last time I saw it. Either way it caused the tears to fall, and that old line in ‘Kingdom of Heaven’ never felt so poignant:
Balian of Ibelin: What is Jerusalem worth?
Saladin: Nothing.
[walks away]
Saladin: Everything!
I pray for peace to this day.
When I started this I was 25. I’m now 34. And what have I seen over this last decade?
More technology than is strictly healthy. A dependency on Wi-Fi that borders on insane (does no one remember dialup?). a quickness to judge and both elevate and condemn that makes me uncomfortable. There is no middle ground anymore; either we are lackadaisical to the point of apathy or furious to the point of Tea Party.
It’s a bad joke but you get the idea. There is often very little attempt to see where the “other” person is coming from. And gay people cause floods (who knew?) according to some. I feel like Al Pacino ranting at the end of ‘Devil’s Advocate’:
John Milton: You sharpen the human appetite to the point where it can split atoms with its desire; you build egos the size of cathedrals; fiber-optically connect the world to every eager impulse; grease even the dullest dreams with these dollar-green, gold-plated fantasies, until every human becomes an aspiring emperor, becomes his own G-d... and where can you go from there?
The devil has a point.
I don’t think we’re at that stage yet. I think in hindsight the crash of ’08 could be seen as a good thing because it applied the emergency brake to a train, we now realise was barrelling out of control with no way of slowing let alone stopping the thing. So the train derailed, at least it stopped. But hey, that’s just my opinion.
So where does this leave us? Leave me? It leaves me where it found me. doing my best, writing my best, trying not to kill anyone in my job, looking to the future but trying to enjoy the present with similar commitment. Smelling the roses. Because one day this really will end, I’ll begin to look my age (I’m not a fantasist, I have my mom’s genes and I hope I inherit as many of them as I can) and the clothes I wear now will be suitable no more. It has been a very memorable ten years. For someone like me, when children was very unlikely to happen I am happy to say I accomplished a fair bit in this time; the late twentysomething to early thirtysomething. I now own property. My parents have retired. My friends have children of their own, and marriages and mortgages and lives. And me? I work and I write and laugh and I cry. I live the best I can. Which to be fair was what I was hoping to do when I went to London back in 2003. Mission accomplished. J
I’ve written one novel (unpublished) and am working on a second. I am thinking of maybe one more big adventure before I turn forty. And those words I never thought I’d write. “Before I turn forty”. Forty. Y’know there was a time when I knew (I knew!) I’d never reach forty. Heck, I was lucky if I reached thirty, and we all saw how that turned out. That was a party, no mistake; I can still taste the food!
But yes, big adventure. One more big adventure before my fortieth year. Bet your bottom dollar it’ll involve writing, which, is something I will continue to do until I can’t do it anymore. But not here.
If anyone is interesting in continuing to read my ramblings and opinions of the world you can find me at vidascrucible.wordpress.com. but for now I think it’s time to turn off the lights.
My thanks to anyone who has had the courtesy to read and comment about my writing, either in the comments here or to me directly. You’re words kept me up when all I wanted to do was quit.
In no particular order there’s the Invisible Gang from Aber, who I continue to love with every visit, the tug of the Aber Trap is very strong. My dear friends in London who I went through the grinder that is Nursing School with, who I fought and cried and argued with and still keep in my heart and see whenever I can. The gang in the Bristol hospital that had to put up with my bullshit for almost four years back in the last decade when I was snot-nosed and inexperienced and didn’t know the business end of a scapel from the other. the gang in the Coliseum whom the last 3 years have gone far too fast and I think we all still hanker for those days in this time of great change for North Bristol NHS Trust. My old friend H who I should see more often than I do, who shares the writer’s spirit and was on a similar level to me when I started realising who and what I was. Mis Ellie for being my buddy for many years and helping me not go through such a difficult time alone. kB for being the kindred Bristolian alternative Jewish spirit I’ve always yearned for. And finally to Jon and Rachel, for pulling me back into reality and society when all I wanted to do was hide under my own little rock and pretend it didn’t exist. And there’s a special mention to a lady from my nursing cohort who commented anonymously upon my life. Her words are as follows:
These peoples opinion of you does not validate who you are. You will ALWAYS be judged. You will never be able to change people’s opinions and beliefs but you can change yours by conditioning yourself to believe that their views of you is unimportant and does NOT determine who you are…. You will always face ignorance; this is something that is beyond your control. However you do have the power to change how this ignorance affects you. Do not let what other people think of you or how they perceive you, distress you… it should not matter what anyone else thinks.
Txx
Well. Whoever you are Txx I hope you’re life turned out just as creative and amazing as mine did. You are in my heart always.
And with the thankyous and tributes paid and the bill settled all that is left is to wrap this thing up, stand, collect our coats from the cloakroom and leave the way we came in. It’s ok, it’s summer, the rain’s stopped and it’ll be light for a few hours yet. Thankyou all for coming. Thankyou all for reading. And I hope to see you again some day. With much affection, goodbye and goodnight.
Devida.
“You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you’ve cheated the [girl] in the glass”.
The Man In The Glass
Peter Dale Wimbrow Sr.
Small edit by Devi Boulton.
This is it, my last opinion. Not ever, cos my head will probably never stop until I finally do. But this platform feels tired. I think it’s more a case of the history it’s pulling than the actual site itself. It’s constrained as technology leaps forward, many of my “friends” here are long gone. And what I write here is more for my benefit than for anyone else. I am my own pilot light, my own lighthouse. Telling the world how I feel, the world that echoes back to me in silence.
devida. 2005-2014.
10 years.
2 cities.
Lots of coffee.
Many kisses and more tears. And crow’s feet. And sore hips, and knees, and shoulders, and feet..
It’s impossible for me to pay homage to this website. It’s been everything from a confessor to a comforter to an inspiration over the years. I think I must’ve paid out around £200 over the last ten years in fees to keep my icons available, keep the background how I wanted it. Urban dawn. How I feel often getting out of work, regardless of the actual hour. The darkness is gone, now the dawn approaches and the world still turns. The idea of how long twenty-four hours can be. Anyone who’s travelled or has cared for newborns will attest this. A single day is a LONG time to be awake. I’ve been on the receiving end of such a trial only a handful of times. Either travelling or studying, you begin the work as the sun sets and finish as the dawn rises. It’s funny because one of my friends in work recently had to undertake the same trial. He studied all night and showed up to work at 8am the next morning. “Sleep is for beginners” one Hollywood Make-Up artist declared.
I don’t think it’s not for beginners, I think so much of life is created by hardship. Comfort and happiness are not the be all and end all. Sometimes things have to be uncomfortable in order to motivate. I wouldn’t advocate a Jigsaw (Saw movies) level of devotion here but you get the idea. Writing when you don’t want to; suffering for your art, for your job, for your family; it’s uncomfortable, but it creates.
I created.
Just reading through the archives of this journal is like a jump back into my past.
Two years in London training in the mid zeros. Then another eight years in Bristol working on the job, trying to put that training into practice. It really was a joke in hindsight. I’d learnt everything about my job in operating rooms in 4 weeks. And so I go straight from the training ward to an operating theatre in the space of a month. Yep, that’s a learning curve with the gradient of Everest. Impossible for me, and I can imagine impossible for the poor unfortunates who had to employ me during that time. I was the greenest greenhorn alive. I knew NOTHING. I think the only reason I got the job is that I was a nurse and I was a legacy for the Trust because my mom was employed there. Why they would hire someone out of college, a London college mind you, was bizarre.
It was hard.
I think I was scared for many years. And only recently have I developed coping mechanisms.
And good g-d there was the time in 2008!
And 2010.
The former was memorable for so many reasons. Learning to walk, learning to speak, learning to have an opinion. One of my more bizarre memories from that year was slowly doing laps on the hospital ward I was chained to for over a week. Going round and round trying to get my legs to move again. catheter pipe rubbing uncomfortably, trying to avoid the odd looks the nursing staff were giving me as I circled the unit like some kind of mad lady. The smell is burned upon my subconscious; to the extent I have mild PTSD over the whole experience. Certain smells give me mild flashbacks. Certain comments make me react more than society says I should. It’s my cross to bear; I’ve made my peace with it.
2010 I think was the dam effect I spoke about it in the previous post. It affected me in the summer and the drip-drip-drip only intensified before it finally ruptured in the winter of that year. it was terrible, and it hurt and I’m still not fully over it. What’s that phrase that addicts say?
One day at a time.
But life was more than just work. There was so much more than work during all of this. I finally had the chance to go on holiday. I hadn’t been on holiday in almost 6 years before I went to Toronto in 2007. Then New York followed. Then Poland, Israel, Jordan, New York again, and again, AND AGAIN! I’ve developed an affinity for the city that never sleeps, its Jewishness, its cosmopolitan vibe and ethnic diversity. The food, and the weather, and the pace that was so similar to London and yet at the same time so alien. It was comical the first time when I had to fly out of Newark to come home and was yet to get surgery so I was terrified I was going to be stopped and arrested and shipped away for detention. Comical. But at the time I was really worried.
Seeing Israel was special too. The Western Wall is a place that makes my heart skip when I think about it. It might be a spiritual side-effect or possibly the fact it was 42 degrees the last time I saw it. Either way it caused the tears to fall, and that old line in ‘Kingdom of Heaven’ never felt so poignant:
Balian of Ibelin: What is Jerusalem worth?
Saladin: Nothing.
[walks away]
Saladin: Everything!
I pray for peace to this day.
When I started this I was 25. I’m now 34. And what have I seen over this last decade?
More technology than is strictly healthy. A dependency on Wi-Fi that borders on insane (does no one remember dialup?). a quickness to judge and both elevate and condemn that makes me uncomfortable. There is no middle ground anymore; either we are lackadaisical to the point of apathy or furious to the point of Tea Party.
It’s a bad joke but you get the idea. There is often very little attempt to see where the “other” person is coming from. And gay people cause floods (who knew?) according to some. I feel like Al Pacino ranting at the end of ‘Devil’s Advocate’:
John Milton: You sharpen the human appetite to the point where it can split atoms with its desire; you build egos the size of cathedrals; fiber-optically connect the world to every eager impulse; grease even the dullest dreams with these dollar-green, gold-plated fantasies, until every human becomes an aspiring emperor, becomes his own G-d... and where can you go from there?
The devil has a point.
I don’t think we’re at that stage yet. I think in hindsight the crash of ’08 could be seen as a good thing because it applied the emergency brake to a train, we now realise was barrelling out of control with no way of slowing let alone stopping the thing. So the train derailed, at least it stopped. But hey, that’s just my opinion.
So where does this leave us? Leave me? It leaves me where it found me. doing my best, writing my best, trying not to kill anyone in my job, looking to the future but trying to enjoy the present with similar commitment. Smelling the roses. Because one day this really will end, I’ll begin to look my age (I’m not a fantasist, I have my mom’s genes and I hope I inherit as many of them as I can) and the clothes I wear now will be suitable no more. It has been a very memorable ten years. For someone like me, when children was very unlikely to happen I am happy to say I accomplished a fair bit in this time; the late twentysomething to early thirtysomething. I now own property. My parents have retired. My friends have children of their own, and marriages and mortgages and lives. And me? I work and I write and laugh and I cry. I live the best I can. Which to be fair was what I was hoping to do when I went to London back in 2003. Mission accomplished. J
I’ve written one novel (unpublished) and am working on a second. I am thinking of maybe one more big adventure before I turn forty. And those words I never thought I’d write. “Before I turn forty”. Forty. Y’know there was a time when I knew (I knew!) I’d never reach forty. Heck, I was lucky if I reached thirty, and we all saw how that turned out. That was a party, no mistake; I can still taste the food!
But yes, big adventure. One more big adventure before my fortieth year. Bet your bottom dollar it’ll involve writing, which, is something I will continue to do until I can’t do it anymore. But not here.
If anyone is interesting in continuing to read my ramblings and opinions of the world you can find me at vidascrucible.wordpress.com. but for now I think it’s time to turn off the lights.
My thanks to anyone who has had the courtesy to read and comment about my writing, either in the comments here or to me directly. You’re words kept me up when all I wanted to do was quit.
In no particular order there’s the Invisible Gang from Aber, who I continue to love with every visit, the tug of the Aber Trap is very strong. My dear friends in London who I went through the grinder that is Nursing School with, who I fought and cried and argued with and still keep in my heart and see whenever I can. The gang in the Bristol hospital that had to put up with my bullshit for almost four years back in the last decade when I was snot-nosed and inexperienced and didn’t know the business end of a scapel from the other. the gang in the Coliseum whom the last 3 years have gone far too fast and I think we all still hanker for those days in this time of great change for North Bristol NHS Trust. My old friend H who I should see more often than I do, who shares the writer’s spirit and was on a similar level to me when I started realising who and what I was. Mis Ellie for being my buddy for many years and helping me not go through such a difficult time alone. kB for being the kindred Bristolian alternative Jewish spirit I’ve always yearned for. And finally to Jon and Rachel, for pulling me back into reality and society when all I wanted to do was hide under my own little rock and pretend it didn’t exist. And there’s a special mention to a lady from my nursing cohort who commented anonymously upon my life. Her words are as follows:
These peoples opinion of you does not validate who you are. You will ALWAYS be judged. You will never be able to change people’s opinions and beliefs but you can change yours by conditioning yourself to believe that their views of you is unimportant and does NOT determine who you are…. You will always face ignorance; this is something that is beyond your control. However you do have the power to change how this ignorance affects you. Do not let what other people think of you or how they perceive you, distress you… it should not matter what anyone else thinks.
Txx
Well. Whoever you are Txx I hope you’re life turned out just as creative and amazing as mine did. You are in my heart always.
And with the thankyous and tributes paid and the bill settled all that is left is to wrap this thing up, stand, collect our coats from the cloakroom and leave the way we came in. It’s ok, it’s summer, the rain’s stopped and it’ll be light for a few hours yet. Thankyou all for coming. Thankyou all for reading. And I hope to see you again some day. With much affection, goodbye and goodnight.
Devida.
“You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you’ve cheated the [girl] in the glass”.
The Man In The Glass
Peter Dale Wimbrow Sr.
Small edit by Devi Boulton.