Raise your hands to the sky and scream "hallelujah". Praise the lord for I have seen the light and I BELIEVE.
I. Love. The. Olympics.
There, I've said it. I have gone from hatred through to ambivalence and all the way into wide-eyed adoring love.
I used to despise the Olympics. When I was living in London I worked at a law firm and the Olympics was one headache after another. We weren't the only law firm in the city working on things, far from it, I think almost every office in the capital must have had some kind of case.
My dad is a plant manager at one of the construction companies that built the stadium in Stratford. He lives in Bournemouth with my mum but back then in the early days of building, the plan was for the company to put him up in a hotel during the week and he'd return home at the weekends. This NEVER happened. I think at one point there was a period of almost 6 weeks that my parents didn't see each other. He'd have to go to another office or plant because a lorry hadn't shown up or supplies weren't sent out on time. Since I was living in London and my dad was staying there too, my mum was completely on her own. She'd always say how worried she was that she'd trip in the shower or fall down the stairs and nobody would know. Her colleagues were under strict instructions that if she didn't show up on a Monday morning they were to go round to the house to check she was ok. I'm not kidding.
I laughed at everyone scrambling to buy tickets in the bizarre ballot system. It was the most pathetic system ever created in the history of the universe. How some people could end up completely empty handed while others were faced with bills of hundreds, if not thousands, of pounds was ridiculous. There was a flurry of people handing back their tickets and then the madness started all over again.
I saw the mascots, Wenlock and Mandeville, and their story of creation as a cynical ploy to involve the north of the country in the games. Despite my change of heart, I'm still not convinced about these guys and I think they'll haunt us forevermore.
My initial scorn turned into a 'couldn't care less' attitude. I didn't go and see the torch relay because my car was at the garage having an MOT and getting on a mobile asylum (my name for buses) was not an option. I do not mix well with the lunatics who frequent public transport. I am rather unfortunate in that I must have what others see as a 'kind face'. Old people talk to me, local nutjobs think I want to listen to their conspiracy theories and children think I want to play. This also translates to being asked for directions, venue information and advice on local services whenever I'm out and about.
I had no reason to like the Olympics. I'm not sporty, I had no intention of going to watch any of the games and if still lived in London I would certainly have made arrangements to flee the city for the entirety of the 16 days.
Somehow by the middle of last week I'd started to get a little bit interested about the Olympics. It came from nowhere really. Then I watched the opening ceremony and everything changed. The only Danny Boyle film I've ever seen is Trainspotting so I had no expectations about the event. I'm yet to meet someone able to put into words quite what he achieved. For me, he erased years of ill-feeling and replaced it with a fire of excitement. I didn't realise I could feel such pride about something I wasn't involved in. I knew that a billion people around the world had their eyes on Great Britain and I was thrilled at what they were shown. I laughed. I cried. I cheered.
Since then I have been glued to the tv. I've watched gymnastics, sailing, weightlifting, judo, swimming, cycling and I'm getting ready to watch some diving in a minute. I've also caught snippets of badminton, water polo, volleyball and football. I have seen more sport in the last 48 hours than I have in the whole of my 27 years on the planet. When I heard Team GB won their first medal yesterday I cried. I actually cried. I had been watching our girls put in an outstanding gymnastics performance and all the pride and emotion got the better of me. Later on that evening I hurt myself cheering for Rebecca Adlington. The diving today starts at 3pm. I should be heading over to the hospital for blood tests but I'm putting them off until tomorrow because I want to watch Tom Daley.
I know the games have cost us a fortune and I know there is a scandal over the empty seats. But I don't actually care. The fact that I have been inspired to cheer for our athletes means that to me, the Olympics are a triumph.
Monday 30 July 2012
Tuesday 17 July 2012
Twitter saved my life
I should probably start off by saying Twitter didn't literally save my life. The Fail Whale didn't swoop down and save me from drowning, it's nothing quite as dramatic as that. What Twitter did do however was to show me that the world was still turning when my own world was pretty much inert.
This past Sunday was the 1 year anniversary of my kidney transplant. I have had an entire year free from the nightmare of dialysis, fluid restrictions, poor health and all the other nonsense that goes with it. A whole year of happiness, healthiness and being normal.
Before the transplant I was really quite ill and I'd become a bit of a recluse. My whole life revolved around being at home and dialysis. The only people I saw and spoke to on a regular basis were Rich and my mum. Of course I would see various nurses at the treatment centre I visited 3 times a week but they worked on a rotating shift basis so I could go days between seeing each of them and even when they were there, they were obviously far too busy to waste time chatting with me. I knew a few of the other patients to exchange pleasantries with but only when we were leaving. The floor plan meant that patients were split into groups of 4 or 2 around the room. I happened to be in a group of 2 with a man who used dialysis as an opportunity to catch up on some sleep so talking wasn't high on his agenda. Not that I minded, I was more interested in reading my Kindle than making small talk.
During each 4 hour long dialysis treatment I would check Twitter every 15 minutes. It became a little marker to pass the time. I don't entirely understand why but seeing what other people were doing while I was in my own little 240 minutes of hell made things more bearable. Almost like a reminder that things wouldn't always be the way they were.
My Twitter usage wasn't just confined to during dialysis as I'd go on it at home as well and I cannot even begin to explain how many truly wonderful people I have 'met' on Twitter. There's this perception that the internet is a dangerous place and that you can't trust who you're talking to because it's probably an old man sitting in his pants but that is definitely not my experience. On my Twitter I speak to renal patients around the world and their knowledge and advice has been invaluable to my own recovery. There are The Girls who I talk to about what the best foundation might be, the latest mascara to hit the shelves, anecdotes about our pets and, of course, who the best eye candy is at the moment - Detective Morgan seems to be a firm favourite. There are fellow food fanatics who I've been able to discuss recipes with, find out about the best seasonal produce and see pictures of their fabulous creations which has provided endless inspiration for my own kitchen adventures. I've gone from knowing nothing about football to being able to keep up with scores and tables thanks to Twitter. I've been able to get recommendations for local restaurants, sales, markets and events from people who live in the same area as me. My parents went to San Francisco earlier in the year and someone on Twitter recommended a particular tourist attraction that they would never have considered and it turned out to be a highlight. I did some voluntary work last year packing Christmas stockings for our injured army troops that I found out about thanks to the information being retweeted.
Of course there are negatives; privileged celebrities moaning over nothing, vile trolls, love quote accounts, illiterate plebs and porn bots but then again, there is always the block button. If you don't like someone, you can just unfollow and block them. It's that easy.
I had so many lovely messages of support while I was ill and all from people who are technically strangers. There's something about being disconnected from a person that allows you to say things you might not say to someone you know. My friends have all told me how difficult they found my illness because I was falling apart at the seams and there was nothing they could do about it. They didn't know how or what to say to me without accidentally saying the wrong thing. Sometimes I would just want to hear "you're doing great, Romany. Keep going, stay strong" but it's hard to say that to someone lying in a hospital bed connected to tubes because you can see that it isn't the truth. It's so easy to type out 140 characters and press send when you can't see the condition of the person you're sending it to. Honestly, without some of the kind words I got on Twitter, I'm not sure how much fight I would have had left in me during a particularly scary time in January 2011.
Twitter has become a society in its own right and I keep trying to explain this to people. Now that I'm back at work and venturing out into the world once again I'm contact with more people and unless they use Twitter, they don't really know much about it. When the whole thing recently crashed for a few hours, these were some of the responses on the Daily Mail website (yes, I realise nothing anyone says there should be taken seriously).
This past Sunday was the 1 year anniversary of my kidney transplant. I have had an entire year free from the nightmare of dialysis, fluid restrictions, poor health and all the other nonsense that goes with it. A whole year of happiness, healthiness and being normal.
Before the transplant I was really quite ill and I'd become a bit of a recluse. My whole life revolved around being at home and dialysis. The only people I saw and spoke to on a regular basis were Rich and my mum. Of course I would see various nurses at the treatment centre I visited 3 times a week but they worked on a rotating shift basis so I could go days between seeing each of them and even when they were there, they were obviously far too busy to waste time chatting with me. I knew a few of the other patients to exchange pleasantries with but only when we were leaving. The floor plan meant that patients were split into groups of 4 or 2 around the room. I happened to be in a group of 2 with a man who used dialysis as an opportunity to catch up on some sleep so talking wasn't high on his agenda. Not that I minded, I was more interested in reading my Kindle than making small talk.
During each 4 hour long dialysis treatment I would check Twitter every 15 minutes. It became a little marker to pass the time. I don't entirely understand why but seeing what other people were doing while I was in my own little 240 minutes of hell made things more bearable. Almost like a reminder that things wouldn't always be the way they were.
My Twitter usage wasn't just confined to during dialysis as I'd go on it at home as well and I cannot even begin to explain how many truly wonderful people I have 'met' on Twitter. There's this perception that the internet is a dangerous place and that you can't trust who you're talking to because it's probably an old man sitting in his pants but that is definitely not my experience. On my Twitter I speak to renal patients around the world and their knowledge and advice has been invaluable to my own recovery. There are The Girls who I talk to about what the best foundation might be, the latest mascara to hit the shelves, anecdotes about our pets and, of course, who the best eye candy is at the moment - Detective Morgan seems to be a firm favourite. There are fellow food fanatics who I've been able to discuss recipes with, find out about the best seasonal produce and see pictures of their fabulous creations which has provided endless inspiration for my own kitchen adventures. I've gone from knowing nothing about football to being able to keep up with scores and tables thanks to Twitter. I've been able to get recommendations for local restaurants, sales, markets and events from people who live in the same area as me. My parents went to San Francisco earlier in the year and someone on Twitter recommended a particular tourist attraction that they would never have considered and it turned out to be a highlight. I did some voluntary work last year packing Christmas stockings for our injured army troops that I found out about thanks to the information being retweeted.
Of course there are negatives; privileged celebrities moaning over nothing, vile trolls, love quote accounts, illiterate plebs and porn bots but then again, there is always the block button. If you don't like someone, you can just unfollow and block them. It's that easy.
I had so many lovely messages of support while I was ill and all from people who are technically strangers. There's something about being disconnected from a person that allows you to say things you might not say to someone you know. My friends have all told me how difficult they found my illness because I was falling apart at the seams and there was nothing they could do about it. They didn't know how or what to say to me without accidentally saying the wrong thing. Sometimes I would just want to hear "you're doing great, Romany. Keep going, stay strong" but it's hard to say that to someone lying in a hospital bed connected to tubes because you can see that it isn't the truth. It's so easy to type out 140 characters and press send when you can't see the condition of the person you're sending it to. Honestly, without some of the kind words I got on Twitter, I'm not sure how much fight I would have had left in me during a particularly scary time in January 2011.
Twitter has become a society in its own right and I keep trying to explain this to people. Now that I'm back at work and venturing out into the world once again I'm contact with more people and unless they use Twitter, they don't really know much about it. When the whole thing recently crashed for a few hours, these were some of the responses on the Daily Mail website (yes, I realise nothing anyone says there should be taken seriously).
It made me so cross! Twitter is not about avoiding going outside or speaking with real people. It's about connecting with others that share the same interests as you. None of my close friends are remotely interested in baking so I talk to people on Twitter about it. Most of the latest news stories break on Twitter first, it's an excellent way of keeping up to date with current affairs.
Facebook has turned into a deathly boring desert of baby photos, advertising, games and an endless number of "like and share this photo in three seconds if you love Jesus/can see a face/remember the Teletubbies" pictures. Twitter is alive with jokes, news, stories, recipes, recommendations, reviews and information.
Facebook is all about projecting an unrealistic perfect picture of your life. People only post photos of themselves looking their best in a desperate attempt at keeping up with the Jones'. Twitter isn't like that, at least the people I follow aren't like that, and I think it's a good thing. The brilliant people I follow are just as likely to share a failure as they are to share a success. Again, I think it's probably partly to do with the anonymity aspect. It's one thing to admit to a group of people you most likely aren't ever going to meet that you've messed up but putting your hand up in front of friends, colleagues and family is another thing altogether. Last year a friend from school got married. It was a huge affair and must have cost a fortune. Her Facebook was full of "...has the best husband ever!!" etc. Less than a year later and it's all over. She's quietly deleted all her wedding pics and removed the ring. Surely the more you put yourself on a pedestal, the harder it is to fall and I do believe that Facebook encourages this kind of behaviour. I haven't seen anything like this on Twitter, it's more honest and true.
I guess I just want people to stop hearing the word "Twitter" and immediately think that everyone is an idiot who only tweets about what they're having for breakfast or that it's just full of vacuous nobodies who are only online so they can connect with celebrities. Of course there are people like that but the vast majority aren't.
Twitter helped save my life by keeping me connected to the world at a time when I wasn't able to do it myself. It has put me in touch with some amazing individuals who although I haven't met them in person, I am proud to be able to call them my friends.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)