Facebook, Schmacebook!

What I love and loath about the Facebook?

So the other day I’m on Facebook, grumbling to myself about how a certain someone is constantly changing their profile photo. It feels like every week their putting up a new picture. Why? I barked, to no one in particular. We all know what you look like! I know why, because you want us all to tell you how very pretty you are, well I’m not going to. That’ll learn you, you photogenic narcissist!

Once I’d gotten off my high horse and had a little laugh at myself, I realised, we all use Facebook so differently. In fact, not only do we use it in different ways but also see it as serving a different purposes. From making work contacts, finding old friends, stalking exes, sharing information and marketing, it can be used for all this and more and we’re all meeting in this virtual blank-canvas with very different intentions and desires.

So how do you use yours? Are you an “internet curator”, are you a “selfie slave” or a “politics pusher”. Here’s what I love and loath about how people use this frighteningly ubiquitous platform.  

Loves

1. Internet curation

Internet curators – This is my very favourite thing about Facebook. I have a couple of friends who have gotten it down to a fine art, distilling the online detritus out there and posting the most interesting and insightful material they’ve encountered. Often it’s information or material that I would never have come across on my own but nonetheless would still like to read or watch. 

Internet Curators are the polar opposite of those who are constantly telling you about their life and posting pictures of themselves. I find the curators interesting because they are interested. They’re interested in the world around us and go out of their way to carefully select the most interesting articles and videos from it and share them, judiciously on Facebook. More power to ‘em I say.

2. Good vibrations

I feel very blessed to know a bunch of people who, by and large post things chosen to inspire and enlighten. These posts always seem to be so timely and applicable. I have one friend who only posts inspiring quotes and while I wouldn’t want everyone to do that, in the midst of moaning and selfies, it can be a welcome respite.

3. Like, Funny haha

The funnies. It’s painfully rare to encounter a video which really is as funny as people say it is. Most of the time, if I see the usual “Watch this, it’s hilarious” intro I’m already pissed off, assuming it’s not going to be funny even before the Youtube page has loaded. So when someone posts something that does turn out to be as funny as promised, I give them double kudos, triple if it’s smart too, like the photo memes that are going around. They’re punchy, short and to the point, everything I love about comedy. This is one of my favourites. http://www.funnybts.com/2012/11/i-dont-know-man-i-just-what-if-i-never-find-out-whos-a-good-boy.html. And a Jon Stewart or John Oliver clip is usually a sure fire win too.

4. The Good news

Great news – Of course Great news. Who doesn’t love sharing in someone’s awesome news? I’m sure sometimes people share reluctantly for fear of appearing to crow but when news is shared in a spirit of gratitude rather than a tedious humble brag or disguised complaint, (and we all know culprits) it’s always a joy to read. For example, “Uuurrr. So annoying that I have to take my brand new Lexus to the car wash this Sunday. Would rather watch the Oscars #drag”as opposed to “Up yours TFL. I finally got a car. So grateful”. I dunno about you but I like the second person much more (and feel bad I didn’t give them a lift more often).

5. Check you out

Check ins – The jury might be out on this part of FB but personally, I like it. I have a friend whose work takes her all over the world and so, every couple of weeks, she checks in and its cool seeing where she will materialises next. To me, it’s like a very low-key selfie, like, I won’t show you what I’m doing but I will tell you where I am. Which leads me to my first loath

Loathes

1. But enough about me, what about me

A never-ending stream of photos of you having an amazing time all the time, everywhere. The cynic in me thinks bad thoughts about people who feel they need to let the world know what a phenomenal life they’re having by documenting and posting about it all on Facebook. Some people have HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS of photos online. If you’re busy taking photos how present are you to what you’re actually doing? Research shows you’re more likely to remember an event if you DON’T take photos. I’ve had to unfollow a few serial offenders because, grouch that I am, I’m just not interested in a slurry of self-portraits. Even as I write this, I can hear the bah humbugness of it and look, it’s not like I don’t want to see images of my friends having a good time, but every day, all the time? I tried having an Instagram account and I lasted about a month. It was fun at first, finding things to take photos of but I soon tired of it, thinking, I’m bored of looking at pictures of me so God knows what other people think. I honestly can’t see the point of Instagram unless you’re one of three things 1. Super famous 2. Super gorgeous or an artist sharing their work. Otherwise…. Sorry but, who cares!?

2. Have we met?

Friend requests from people I don’t know – A couple of years ago I had a FB cull. As a comedian, you end up friending every comic which turns your timeline into a stream of angst and self-promotion, albeit usually funny. I decided to cull in a very particular and unusual way. I decided to only use Facebook to stay connected with friends. I know barmy, right. But what a breath of fresh air. My timeline went back to people talking about ordinary things not scattergun invites to gigs and complaints about the state of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. 

Personally, I think there’s too much private info on Facebook to share it with anyone other than people you know really well and furthermore, research shows that no matter how many people we know, we can only maintain a meaningful connection with a very specific number, between 150 – 160.  So that’s the number I kept my Facebook friends at, with a strict one in, one out policy, what a bitch.  (I just checked and this is a total lie. I’m currently at 170 – I’m not a bitch!).

3. Politicking

Self-righteous politics – I LOVE that people are passionate about issues but I’ve had to unfollow a couple of people for angry politi-posts. Obviously caring is better than not but sometimes I can’t help but wonder if the extent of their caring is limited to the odd online rant rather than, you know, actually taking positive action out in the, as Tim Minchin calls it, Flesh world. It’s great to be passionate and share knowledge and information about injustices but better than bitching and moaning on Facebook, why not get up off your arris and do something? These political rants are only 50% useful anyways because usually they’re woefully partisan. You rarely see objective or  balanced posts when passions run high. A little digging usually reveals that the situation is often more complicated than it first appears.

4. Playbook

Games. Yawwwwn. Polls telling you what animal you are, what part of the country you are or what type of food you are, are as tedious as a game of chess with all the pieces the same colour. Honestly, every time I see people post the results of these pointless polls I want to unfriend them and I would, if it weren’t for the fact that I love them. But Jesus. Who has THAT much spare time in their day?!

5. FWP

Constant First world problem moaning. – No, no, no. It’s very easy to forget how lucky we are in the “developed” world and that our problems are ones that 95% of the world wishes they had so when FWPs pop up on Facebook, my first inclination and desire is to slap the person round the face with an Ikea catalogue. So someone said a spoiler about your favourite show, man up! You’re still eating this evening though, right?! I know I’ve been a FWP culprit and it’s probably unavoidable because we exist in a different context from those without fresh running water or constant gun fire outside their door. I guess all we westerners can do is remember that our FWP are not really a big deal and that if someone posting selfies or giving away the twist to a movie we want to see is the worst we have to deal with, then life is pretty sweet.  

So how do you Facebook?

Toxic Shock - What's Really Going On With Toxic Friends?

As well as being a Britney Spears hit, toxic also describes draining or unhealthy relationships which I'd read a lot about but thought I’d been lucky to have avoided, that was until I read an article listing all the things that make a friendship toxic. Oh my God, I thought. It described to a tee what had transpired a few months earlier between myself and an erstwhile ‘friend’.

“Do you feel drained by them?” “I do!” I nodded at the online article. “Do you feel undermined by them?” Does the pope shit in the woods?? I said, nodding enthusiastically. “Does the conversation usually gravitate around them?” Like Ganymede gravitates around Jupiter, I scoffed or would have if I knew more about the solar system.

Until a year or so ago, I’d weathered my wonkier friendships, putting the weirdness I was getting from the other person down to them being a “character”. It’s often the way with the big personalities we have in our lives that they can be great fun but also come with a job lot of drama. The more I heard about these “toxic friends” though, the more I became convinced that that was the root cause of these pear-shaped relationships.

However, as I started writing this post, I couldn’t get any traction on what I wanted to say. I had fine examples of Chernobyl chums and their terrible behaviour. I had my list of made up names I would use to protect the guilty and yet, after writing each paragraph, I’d look back over it and think it wasn't wholly accurate or was somehow disingenuous towards the other party. Because whilst some of the traits listed in that article were true of some of my ex-friends, they weren’t true of all of them. Each situation had its own unique circumstances and each person was different.

Yes, some were chatterboxes who rarely asked after other people’s welfare but that wasn’t a characteristic common to each circumstance. Yes, some did undermine me but not all of them and whilst some were draining, that wasn’t applicable in each case.

The notion of a toxic friendship is an intriguing one to me so whenever I saw articles about it, I often read them but the one thing I noticed consistently, is that the toxee, the one claiming to have been toxed up by their buddy always came across as holier-than-though. However fairly they tried to tell their tale of woe, they always presented themselves as the faultless, injured party. They came across as virtuous while the other person sounded like the reigning champion in the Arsehole of the Year competition. Something didn’t ring true. 

Perhaps this toxic friends thing wasn’t as straight forward as I first thought.

Maybe friendship toxicity is complicated by the fact that every situation is very different and also that you have affection for the person in question. If they were out and out arseholes it would be easy to identify the problem and remove them from our lives but most often they’re not and the dynamic we enter into with them is much more subtle and complex – as the phrase frenemy shows.

Of the people in my life who I consider toxic, all have been fun, lively, entertaining and charming people. The toxicity is subjective and comes down to my expectations of them in our friendship and how they make me feel. It’s easy to make it all the fault of the other person but perhaps closer to the truth is that toxicity is a two-way street.

In situations where I consider a friendship to have gone foul, I can totally justify my decision to let that person go but equally, they may be thinking, thank God, too for their own reasons. Perhaps when it comes to TFFs (new phrase – spread it) toxicity comes from you both poisoning the well.

Recently I decided to let go of someone because I felt shitty whenever I was with them. I always felt exhausted by their company and glad to get away. For some reason, I kept the friendship going because… well I don’t know why. I guess because I thought I should. Kaya said we were friends so I just plodded on assuming that I should put up with her abrasive manner and sharp comments but then, one day, I decided I’d had enough. It felt good, like leaving a room full of teenaged boys’ socks. I laughed at myself for persisting with this friendship when it clearly wasn’t one.

But now my thoughts go to Kaya and what may have been going on with her. It would be easy to dismiss her as an arsehole but clearly she isn’t because she has friends and family who love her and whom she loves. I’ve seen it first-hand so there’s clearly more to this perceived toxicity than just her behaviour. It’s an  element that often goes unacknowledged when people talk about this, and that’s the one declaring the friendship toxic. I was the added ingredient that possibly tipped Kaya into this aggressive mode that meant a friendship between us was impossible.

I can only speculate as to what specifically it could be. My love of Level 42, my need to randomly speak with a northern accent in the middle of conversations, my constant use of the word “like” whilst bemoaning people who do the same thing? I don’t know but one thing’s for sure, it wasn’t all down to her.

I don’t know what about me pushes Kaya’s buttons and I’m sure whatever it is, it probably has and will do the same to someone else too but what I can see with the distance of time is, Kaya wasn’t the problem. We both were. I just made a judgement call about it.

TFF situations aren’t about calling someone else out as being a bad person, they should be about having the maturity to see, this relationship, for some reason, doesn’t work.

I guess the decision we then have to make is, is it so broken it cannot be fixed or at least tolerated?

If it can be tolerated, then all we need do is limit the exposure we have to that person or situations that cause things to flare up. If, for example, your friend mutates into a TFF when alcohol is involved, it may mean you have to swerve them at weddings and birthday parties… and leaving dos and Christmas parties… and Friday nights and all weekdays and the weekends…

OR we may just need to limit how much time we spend with that person in general. I had a friend who went through a difficult break up but in spending more time with them supporting them through it, I saw traits I didn’t enjoy. Once the dust settled and they started rebuilding their life, I backed out of the friendship because I didn’t want to be around them and who they were being. It was sad because I really liked them but hated biting my tongue about their behaviour. I miss them still and who knows, perhaps I should have said something.

But, like an intimate relationship, not every friendship is meant to last. As we all know, some friendships are for a life time, some for a season and some are just fleeting experiences born out of a particular set of circumstances.

Years ago, while working in post-production I found myself in a job I detested. The only pleasure I derived was from sitting next to Carlos who hated the job more than me. We amused ourselves with clandestine impersonations of our bosses and their pointless rules and regulations. It was like living with the Dentons from The League of Gentlemen “You’ll have your own WC into which we don’t pass solids” (that last sentence will seem extremely odd if you are unfamiliar with the rather brilliant BBC Series).

After a few months, both of us quit. We couldn’t have been happier and did nothing to hide it. A year or so later, we met for drinks and to talk through our post-production PTSD. But as we reminisced about our experiences I realised, it was all we had in common. Soon the conversation dried up and I knew it was unlikely we’d see each other again.

To an extent, friendships tend to be self-regulating in that they find their own rhythm. We have friends that are practically soul mates but only see once a year. Equally we can have fleeting acquaintances we see every day, like some work colleagues.

Friendships have a way of pacing themselves so that we see the person just the right amount and in the right contexts and it’s only when we try to override this, forcing the relationship into being something it isn’t, that we come unstuck. Listening to our instincts on how we feel about someone and how we feel when we’re with them is the only tool we need to navigate our relationships.

With Kaya I should have trusted my gut from the beginning and realised that for whatever reason, it doesn’t feel good to be around her so I should let the friendship go.

Releasing these people from our lives is a form of energetic social spring cleaning. It clears out what is draining our resources so that we can focus on the people that benefit our lives, the ones that make us feel good, the ones that raise us up, make us laugh, support us, love us and allow us to be ourselves whenever we are with them and that we want to, uninhibitedly do the same for.

The more I think about it, the more I’m beginning to believe there is no such thing as toxic friends, only toxic friendships and that is not just down to one person. That takes two.

And rather than blaming the other person and trying to present ourselves as angelic, perhaps all it requires is a little maturity to say either to ourselves or if need be, to the other person, this friendship doesn’t work. This will always be the serum to any toxically untenable scenario we find ourselves in.

This post is dedicated to the people who are no longer in my life. I hope life is treating you well... prick. I'm joking! I wish them all well.

Other posts you may enjoy: Clutter Nutter - about decluttering your space, Understanding Haters Makes You Greater - about haters and Let The Cat Sleep On The Bed and The power of the ego

10 Relationship Mistakes I'll Never Make Again - Part 2

So, last week I laid down the first half of my top ten relationship mistakes I’ll never make again (unless they’re fun, am I right, ladies?!!). Anyway, here’s the second half including my number one mistake I will avoid at all cost.

5. I’ll never ask a guy out again

Let’s get the second most contentious one out of the way first. Hear me out, ladies before you start tweeting me pictures of your burnt bras and copies of The Female Eunuch.

Correct me if I’m wrong, fellas, but when it comes to dating or seeking something beyond the casual, men need the hunt. They need to work for the thing they want to appreciate its value which, of course would explain why “easy” is a pejorative term used in reference to women.

I’m about to give the best or possibly worst analogy to explain this (you decide). I was outside this beachfront shop one day and started playing fetch with the owner’s border collie. After the dog politely dropped his disgustingly slimy tennis ball at my feet I obediently threw it (the ball not the dog) and watched Shep tear off into the distance after it. A moment later he returned, depositing the ball back at my feet. With nothing better to do, I continued to play fetch with the dog for a while longer.

After, I noticed the sheer delight when he really had to chase the ball down but when I messed up my throw (because I throw like a girl) and the ball casually rolled passed his face, old Shep couldn’t have been less interested if I’d offered him a tofu burger.

I know some chicks won’t like this at all and I get that. We want to feel like strong, empowered women who are capable of seeing what we want and taking it and that’s lovely but here’s the thing. When we ask guys out, we deny them the chase. We also deny ourselves the opportunity to find out how much he really likes us. I know some men complain that they sometimes don’t want to ask women out because of the fear of rejection but to that I say “Nugget, please!” If you really like her, you'll really ask. And anyway, girls, do you really want to date a guy who doesn’t have the clackers to even ask you out?Rather than this being an inhibitor, this rule is a filtering system!

The problem with asking guys out is, men are generally nice people and if a girl invites them out, unless they find her abhorrent, they’ll probably say yes just out of sheer politeness.

In the short term, the victorious woman may celebrate bagging her man but in doing so she loses the chance to find out, would he have got it together to approach her and worse could set up a dynamic in her relationship where she constantly has to take the lead. I guess if you're the bossy type who snags a bloke with mummy issues that won’t be a problem, but it you’re looking for a real man then you could be setting yourself up for a bowl of disappointment for table number nine.

Here’s the funny thing, I adopted this policy a few years ago and haven’t been asked out once since (sorry but I cannot count being tweeted “DATE ME”. That goes in the weird file) Why am I happy about this drought? Because it means that when someone does ask me out, IN PERSON, he’ll mean it.

I’m a strong bird who’s done her fair share of asking but bottom line is, women are in a greater position of strength as the askee not the asker. We have the right to say yay or nay and that’s a much more powerful position, we just have to realise it!

I know someone will have examples of women asking out men where it’s worked out just fine. There’s always exceptions but do you want to take the risk of starting a wonky relationship in the hope you’ll be the exception too?

4. I won’t be in a rush again

In my long term relationships I have always had an objective in mind, usually marriage and so, to varying degrees, I’ve had a nagging impatience to hurry things along, to get the spare toothbrush in the bathroom so we can get to the  I-love-you’s so we can get to the holiday to get to the whatever-comes-next. This creates a fug of anxiety that hangs over the relationship and frames every conversation about the future. A guy friend told me he was casually musing about where he'd like to live one day when his girlfriend launched into tirade about how he wasn’t factoring her into his future. I’d like to say, wow, what is she like? But I can’t because she, is me. Not on that particular occasion but certain at some point I’ll have allowed the hurry I’m in to override just being with the person.

If we remove the pressure of having a destination in mind, i.e. a wedding or children, then the time together can just be about getting to know each other, learning to dance together, figuratively that is, and allowing things to simply unfold. The greatest source of human suffering is when we tell ourselves things should be different than they are. Rather than trying to shape a relationship into our idea of what it should be perhaps we should all learn to dance in the rain a little more.

3. I won’t take him not being into me personally

When I read He’s Just Not That In To You, I laughed – a lot, I gasped at the brutal accuracy the authors observed not just the behaviour of men who aren’t into us but of the justifying thoughts women use to explain away this behaviour. It was a joyfully harsh read and for me, a timely wake up call.

Us girls are forever making excuses for guys when the truth is often way more obvious. He’s not into us. I was watching some talk show and an audience member told the panel of relationship experts that she was at a loss as to how to snag a guy she’d been chasing. She moaned “I’ve tried everything. I’ve practically thrown myself at him” I sat bolt upright and screamed at the TV “He’s not into you!” I probably screamed loud enough for her to hear me in person. I wish someone had been there to do this for me back in the day. When a girl finds herself having to write love letters, constantly orchestrate chance encounters or shamelessly and persistently flirt, truth is, he’s probably not into you.

Probably my most pointlessly complex ruse involved borrowing a work manual from a colleague I fancied. Then when I returned it, I ‘accidentally’ left a note inside addressed to someone else with my phone number on. Nooooooooo! Why, Lord? Now, in the end, me and this guy did get together but it was a totally casual thing for him where as I wanted his babies. Because I’d flung myself at him, I was always going to be the ball rolling past the bored collie. Don’t be the ball, ladies, never be the slimy ball!

OK, but before us girls turn Ice Queen on all the men we encounter, know that, if a guy does like us, we have to give him a sign, a little encouragement that he’s barking up the right tree (see, in my analogy it’s OK for the men to be  dogs). There’s no point being Mrs. Frosty McFrosting and then acting all surprised when he doesn’t ask you out.

If you like someone but they are not reciprocating, rather than make it his problem, why not take it as a signal that for whatever reason (except your general awesomeness) this guy isn’t interested. After all, getting together with someone who is even vaguely close to what you’re looking for is such a precise alchemy that by the law of averages, MOST of the people we get involved with should be totally and utterly wrong and/or not into us. Remember, we’re all only looking for that special one (unless you’re a Mormon in which case, you’re on your own).

Someone not being into us is in no a reflection of our value even though sometimes that’s how we choose to interpret it. It’s a favour they are doing us. Liking someone isn’t grounds enough for a relationship. Who would want to be with someone who has to be convinced of our sheer magnificence? Do we convince the collie that the slow rolling ball is actually a succulent T-bone steak in disguise and if he would just give it a chance, he won’t regret it? No. We roll on, people. We roll on.

2. I won’t remain entangled when it ends

Technically this shouldn’t be on the list, except it should because of when people take a dumb pill and get back with their exes! And before you gasp and give me more examples of exceptions to this (again), if you or someone you know has successfully rekindled a flame, I’m not talking about that. I’m also not saying that it shouldn't or can never be done, in fact it’s heart-warming when people who have become estranged find a new way to be together. I'm saying, if you get back with someone following a break up do it consciously, with thought, not just because the knot in your stomach called loneliness is becoming too much to bear. Like gas, it will pass.

I know as well as anyone that it’s very easy to stay entangled with someone long after a separating. It took me over a year to break up with one guy (actually I think we might still be together).

It’s hard to do, I know because you don’t stop loving someone just because you’ve called time on your relationship but it’s the only real way of ensuring you get over each other and make space in your life to first, heal, then find someone who is right for you given where you are in your life which hopefully, isn’t at home wailing along to an Adele album lamenting what could have been. Break ups are tough. I’ve initiated them, had them dumped on me, fought them and feared them but they are a rough sea that passes, with the magical ingredient, time.

The longer you stay embroiled in your ex’s life, the longer it will take to move on and the less chance you’ll have to meet someone as awesome as you. Of course it’s tricky if you work together. In which case do what I did to one ex who egregiously dumped me without warning. I drafted a fake letter from a company I knew he’d had an interview at telling him he’d got the job (I didn’t really do it but I was so, so close but karma’s a bitch, right?)

Roll on, don’t look back, you are far too awesome for that mess.

Today's blog is a little longer than usual but there’s so much to say. Kudos for making it this far. As a reward here’s a picture of me as a human bird Christmas hybrid known as an 'angel' - so innocent and check out the microphone hair.

1. I’ll never sleep with a guy on a first date (caveat:… unless perhaps it’s also our last)

Anyway, where was Oh yes, NOT SLEEPING WITH A GUY ON THE FIRST DATE! This is a classic case of being the slow ball but to clarify first, there’s nothing wrong with getting physical with someone you’ve just met. At the end of the day, girl’s gotta eat, am I right, ladies? BUT us girls have got to make a distinction between the ones that are just for tonight and the ones that are forever. 

In Steve Harvey’s dating book, Think Like a Man Act Like A Lady, he says don’t give up the “cookie” (his words not mine), for three months. His advice is to use that three month period to get to know the guy. It’s not about simply holding out like it’s some kind of sex lent. Girls should go into it with a spirit of “let’s see what this guy’s made of, let me see if I like him and if it’s right, after three months, we both get a reward!”.

Rules and mistakes aside, the most important thing is to trust our intuition and expect the best for ourselves, why? Because we’re awesome. All of us deserve to be with people who feel that way about us and equally, we feel like that about them. We should all want to go into a relationship where we are each other’s biggest fans not competing, where we look for ways to make each other happy, not undermine each other, where there is an ease of being, where we celebrate each other’s successes and support each other through tough times, where our closeness allows us to be vulnerable but never suffocate each other, leaving no room to grow, that we see the light in them because we see and love the light in outselves too. 

This is my two year blog anniversary and so this post is dedicated to my lovely subscribers and readers who may have been with me since the beginning or have recently joined the family. Either way you are very much appreciated.

Love, Andi

Other blogs you may enjoy, well last week's one - obvs, 10 Relationship Mistakes I'll Never Make Again pt1, That's The Book of Love - a review of four dating books and Importance of Being A Queen - attracting a better quality of man

Thoughts Of Home

I head home in July and this week, I pondered what home means to me. 

It’s funny the things you miss when you’ve been away from home a long time. When I was a kid, home meant two things. It was the house we lived in but also the word mum used interchangeably when talking about Nigeria. I didn’t realise how loaded that one word could be until this week.

I’ve been living in LA for the last year or so and don’t get me wrong, I love it. The weather alone is enough to make any Brit a convert. When I arrived I made a big fuss about getting an umbrella such was my conditioning coming from the UK. Don’t leave home without it. But if people use them here at all, it’s to protect them from the blistering heat. Nice problem to have.

There is a particular type of optimism that infuses Californian life. A bonhomie that puts a bounce in people’s step. And I’ll never tire of supermarket checkout people insisting I "have a great day”. At first, I’d avert my eyes mumbling, “Um, yeah. Cool. You too” because it was alien to have such enthusiastic service. In Britain, as a customer you often feel like a necessary inconvenience rather than the very reason shop staff are in employment.

On arrival, after the surprisingly pleasant security check (mentioning you’re a comedian completely changes the demeanor of border security), the first thing I noticed was the evening warmth. Like standing in front of a hot fan. The next was what a curiosity us Brits are and I was all the more exotic by being black. Outside the Comedy Store one evening, an African American comic barked at me “Daaaamn. I didn’t know there was black people in the UK!”.

I looked at him to make sure he was serious or hadn’t ODed on dumb pills. I thought, this is going in my sitcom… or a blog at least.

There is a perception that the British accent is somehow more refined. I’ve given up trying to explain Geordie Shore, TOWIE and all the other accent gravel pits the UK has to offer and instead, play up my Britishness, using slightly longer words than I normally would to sound more intelligent. I say give your audience what they want!

It’s a fun game and means I’ll never lose my accent. That would be the worst. Though it’s no crime here, once you return to the UK and your friends hear your strange Lloyd Grossman/ Madonna transatlantic drawl and that peculiar rounding of d and t sounds they'll mercilessly let you know you sound like an utter bellend. And long may that continue.

But as marvelous as it is here I realized this week, I miss feeling at home. Having a sense of home, of being grounded is so fundamental but so subtle that sometimes its absence can be imperceptible. It’s like trying to feel the Earth travelling through space.

I miss living in a city where transport is a communal rather than solo activity. I miss getting on a tube to get where I’m going and even more, I miss getting home by tube after a few drinks. There are literally thousands of DUI (drunk under the influence) arrests here. In the absence of a safe go-to after hours transport system people do the 'sensible' thing and take to their cars.

There’s a certain amount of social compromise that comes with having a unifying transport system on which people from all walks of life make their daily commute. Seven figure salaried CEOs and McDonalds staff alike, armpit to face. Occasionally you'll even spot the odd politician or celebrity publicity-stunting their way to the O2. I can’t see Rihanna boarding the Number 4 down to Santa Monica while a bloke draws a picture of Madonna on the back window with a dog poo.

I love that London has a centre. LA is made up of small pockets of concentrated activity that can be as small as just a few blocks surrounded by vast stretches of bland nothingness. It’s not actual nothingness but it’s… nothing, the backs of warehouses or the fronts of storage companies, unoccupied buildings, workshops… nothing that generates a throng in the way that a busy high street can. There’s no Oxford Street. No Hyde Park Corner.

Oxford Street can be supremely annoying when you're there to do something other than gawp at the new Primark or stand unhelpfully in the entrance to shops but I do miss that bustle.

It’s in the little things, the knowing where to buy stuff, the being familiar with brands and knowing which ones you can trust, understanding the rules of the road, getting utilities hooked up, the local social etiquette and most interestingly, the language.

The saying, Britain and America are divided by a common language, could not be truer. It wasn't long before I realised quite how many British sayings and turns of phrase are completely idiosyncratic to us. I said “Rod for my own back” the other day and my friend had no idea what I was talking about.

So often, we’re speaking the same language but use completely different words and as a foreigner you have to decide, do I acquiesce and start to fold this new language into my lexicon or do I stand my ground and continue to say “’Scuse me, where’s the loo?” and suffer the bemused looks.

Actually, to be fair, in LA, home of the Anglophile, a few British words and phrases have crept in. It always takes me by surprise to hear an American thank me with a pleasant “cheers!” I have to resist double-taking them.

Sometimes, second guessing if I’m being understood or am understanding what’s being said to me can be tiring so when I meet a fellow Brit or Australian even, we gabble away like old friends, the cultural similarities forming an immediate bond.

When away from those you love, you have to create your own tribe, no matter how big or small, a few people who've got your back and you can call in times of crisis or just when a sofa needs moving. 

I can see why people are predisposed towards creating ex-pat communities because it seems no matter how long you stay, part of you is still a foreigner, an other, an exotic artifact.

We take feeling at home for granted but this time away has made me aware of how important it is to create your own sense of community. When I spoke to my mum about it, she said, in her soft Nigerian accent, “yes, it’s hard living in another country”

I was floored by that. It had never occurred to me what she’d given up, as an economic migrant to 1960s Britain, giving 35 years of her life to the NHS, leaving behind the place she called home, the food, the aromas, the people, the familiarity, the sense of belonging, leaving being surrounded by people who looked like her, coming to a place where people were still adjusting to the discomfort of having the “other” live among them, plus the added challenge of being married to my dad, raising children, saving in the hope of returning home whilst barely being able to make ends meet.

Just from her saying that one sentence, I learned so much about my mum and the quiet dignity with which she carries all of this. For her there is no wringing of fists and gnashing of teeth. She knows that Nigeria isn’t perfect, that she has plenty to be grateful for in the UK and that after some 45 years this place is home too.

However, there is something indelible left upon your spirit by the place you grew up in. The other day, driving down Santa Monica Boulevard a thought struck me, I’m an East Ender. It hit my like a brand new thought. The East End seemed far away but still it lingers in the back of my mind, bubbling up in the most unexpected moments. I delighted in having a silly conversation the other day about all the typically British phrases Yanks may not know. My friends were horrified when I described Chinese Whispers and we all decided it was racist, we laughed about fanny packs and bumbags, the tramp and the bum, pants and trousers, fags and cigarettes and it made me feel that home wasn’t so far away.

I pondered with my mum if perhaps “feeling at home” was something you had to generate internally for yourself. Recently I bought house plants to make my apartment feel more homely. It made such a huge difference. And perhaps, in lieu of returning, those little touches will help keep generating a sense of home in me without, of course, blocking out the culture I'm in. Perhaps this is something specific people who relocate have to do, straddle the divide, juggling home and here. Here and home.

Next week the World Cup begins and I'll definitely catch the England matches. I’ll be in the Cat and Fiddle on Sunset Boulevard at nine in the morning sipping a Guiness (it’d be rude not to) and in that moment, I’ll be here and home.

Other posts you may enjoy: More Notes From LA, My LA blog which I did during my first visit here and GoodBye To The Games - my farewell to the London 2012 Olympics

Change The Narrative

This week, how the TV show, Scandal has given me a new perspective on how we think, speak and act.

OK, confession time. I’m a huge Scandal fan. I’m not talking about the 'politicians and hookers' type of scandal, I’m talking about the US drama/ melodramatic sitcom, Scandal starring Kerry Washington as the fast-talking, quivery-lipped, loved-up spin doctor and fixer, Olivia Pope, who is rapidly becoming an iconic character with her own catch phrases and everything.

Along with regularly banging on about being the “good guys” wearing the “white hats”, she’ll often let people know she’s taken care of a task by simply uttering her now-iconic phrase, “It’s handled”.

If Olivia does get to settle down with eyebrow-less El Presidente Fitzgerald Grant played by Tony Goldwyn, I wonder if she’ll still say it. Like, when he asks if the kids have cleaned their teeth will she turn swiftly on her heels, flicked bangs following a second later, narrow her eyes, whisper “it’s handled” then shimmy off in her designer, silk PJs with a massive goblet of red wine?

My favourite of all her sayings is the one she barks in the faces of all her loyalist staff when the proverbial faeces slams into the rotary blades. Usually some opponent has gained the upper hand, dictating the news trajectory of a partially inflammatory scandal she’s trying to suppress and it looks like all the white hats in the world won’t stop this PR avalanche destroying all in its path. It’s at this point, the iconic fringe flicks, the lip quivers and she yells at anyone in earshot, “change the narrative!”

Then her gladiators in sharp suits go into action. Huck usually hacks into some major league impenetrable computer system then tortures someone for good measure. Abby charms her way into someone’s house and convinces them to impart with some vital information and Harrison goes around looking worried and talking with a husky voice.

My best Olivia Pope fringe flick and pout

But despite the fact  it’s just a TV and a ridiculous if addictive one at that, the phrase “change the narrative” has stuck in my head, and worse, for people around me, has become one I’ve started to use. Not, I hastened to add because I see myself as a fixer-in-waiting (although I did flick my fringe the other day but I don’t think it means anything) but because of late, I’ve started to become aware of how often we spin negative or unproductive stories about ourselves that do not serve us in anyway.

We all do it, all the time and it’s something that we really need to cut out. Why? Because the story we tell of our lives is the one that becomes true. Given that, why on earth would we choose to tell a negative story and yet, that is what so many of us do.

This short poem sums it up well.

"Be careful of your thoughts, for your thoughts become your words.
Be careful of your words, for your words become your actions.
Be careful of your actions, for your actions become your habits.
Be careful of your habits, for your habits become your character.
Be careful of your character, for your character becomes your destiny." Anonymous

It’s been attributed to everyone from Gandhi to Margaret Thatcher so I’m leaving it anonymous but the words resonate deeply whatever the source.

Everything you have in your life, who you are, the life you are living, the people who surround you, the things you have are a sum total of the thoughts you have had at some point in your life.

For example, if you think, “I’m bad with money”. It’s not long before that’s the story you begin to tell. You may say it explicitly, laughing with friends that you can’t hold onto money or you may maintain the story implicitly. For example, when an investment goes wrong or you get an unexpected bill, you say that that’s typical in your life. These thoughts and words go on to define our actions and similar to the words, those actions will happen consciously then subconsciously and in the most extreme cases lead to unconscious self-sabotage.

A classic act of self-sabotage is speaking the story that you can’t lose weight and then overeating to console yourself. Show of hands who’s done that? (just me? Up yours, you fibbers!). That is classic self-sabotage because… look I don’t need to explain why. It’s bloody obvious.

And it’s not long before these actions cease to be one-off events but become habitual. And habits are, for the most part just subconscious actions. Those habits we think we can’t break are simply actions that we’ve repeated often enough that we are now oblivious to them.

We have more habits than we think too. Smoking is as much a habit as constantly telling people you’re bad with names. It makes the habit much easier to break though, when you see them as simply actions that have slipped from your conscious to your subconscious mind because to begin the process of breaking them all we need do is elevate these habits back into our conscious awareness which will begin the process of allowing these habitual actions to be transformed.

And it’s important to do this because, as the saying goes, those habits, if kept up for your whole life will go on to shape your character. You are your habits. If you are thrown towards negativity or pessimism, that will be how people will describe your character, how they will come to know you and how you will know yourself. Equally, if you’re a glass is half full type of person with a sunny disposition who habitually tries to make each day better than the last, this too will shape your character.

And of course, there is a clear logic that whatever character you have created for yourself will shape how life turns out for you because the story you tell is the story you live and if the story is one of doom and gloom, then that is the one that finds you.

That doesn’t mean that bad things only happen to pessimistic people but it does mean that those with a brighter disposition live more in gratitude, are happier and navigate the flow of life with a lot more grace.

So now, if I hear people say something explicitly negative or unproductive about themselves, I’ll try to gently encourage them to change the narrative. The quality of our lives depends on it.

I do the same when I hear myself say something that I know is not the story I want to tell about myself. If, for example, I feel myself go to tell someone I’m not good with names, I stop and say, (inside) I am good with names. I know people's names for goodness sake. I don't meet my close friends saying, "Angela is it? No, Amanda? Give me a clue. Does it begin with A?". I can remember names I just need a good system to help me when meeting strangers.

“I’m not good with names” is a common negative story. When you first meet someone, especially in a social setting like a party, there’s usually so much going on that in the excitement and nervousness of meeting new people, the person we're introduced to might as well be saying “Hi, I’m Ding Fang Wiggle Nickel” for all we're able take in in that moment. Here’s a technique I use. I repeat their name back to them. Then I repeat it to myself and look for a memorable feature so  the name sticks. I recently met a very quiet and petite young woman called Mary and in my head she became mousy Mary. I only needed to hear her name once and it was fixed in my head. Even seemingly complicated foreign names (of course, they’re only complicated to people not from their country) can be broken down into their sounds to aid memorisation. I recently met a chap called Annaquad, pronounced Ahn-nahk-wood which is just how I broke it down in my head as we met. No problem and now, narrative changed.

Remembering names is obviously a relatively minor narrative but the principle is the same whatever it is. I can’t lose weight, transformed becomes, I live a healthy lifestyle. I don’t have time for my hobby becomes I’m able to reorganise my day to make time for the thing I want to do. 

A friend recently told me that, due to age, he often goes into a room and completely forgets what he's doing there. In the politest way I could, I told him that was “bollocks”. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been doing that since I was a kid! That’s just what humans do and its nothing to do with age. Somehow  we’ve implicitly taken on this social conditioning that tells us getting old means forgetting. It’s incorrect. Getting older means whatever you want it to and seeing as you have the choice, why not select maturing sophisticatedly like a fine wine rather than shrivelling like a grape?

As I’ve said before, whether you say you can or you can’t do something, you can or you can’t have something or whatever belief you are perpetuating, you get to be right so why wouldn’t you choose the very highest for yourself?

Check your thought, check your language and check your actions. Are they in alignment with  the highest idea you have of yourself. If not, let them go and transform them into something that is in loving support of who you aim to be.

Bring your consciousness to these thoughts, words and actions. Bring the habits to your conscious mind and thank them for their services and let them go telling them you no longer require them.

I’m sure there’s some kind of meditation you can do to achieve this but even if you don’t, bringing conscious energy to those unrewarding habits and patterns that lurk in our subconscious can only be a good thing.

Think good thoughts, change your narrative, watch Scandal. (Don’t worry about the last thing. It’s not for everyone and it is pretty ridiculous).

Here's some other posts you may enjoy: Change Your Magnet - on attracting healthy relationships, The Power of Intention and Are You Attractive? - on the law of attraction