Fight or Flighter

Everyone knows about fight or flight, whether you use the burst of adrenaline in a stressful situation to attack or flee?

I'm a flighter. I'd run away from any situation as fast as my stumpy legs would allow. The idea of running away has always been an attractive option in my mind and I can't remember a time when I haven't loved the idea. Imagine any problem, any stressful situation, any embarrassing moment, any nerve wracking event and like in cartoons, you leave only a mere dust trail and some speed lines behind you. 

As a child, the running away spot was in the garden. The furtherest point from the back door, hidden by the side of the shed so I couldn't be seen from any window. I'd go there, become invisible for a while and retreat back in, cool as a cucumber hoping that whatever had happened that I didn't like had disappeared. As I got a bit older, I favoured my bedroom, the sanctuary that it still is to this day. Whenever any teenage angst fuelled arguments flared up in the house - straight up the stairs, door tightly shut, music on and book out. I couldn't physically flight off so I'd delve into a fictional world. Rather ironically reading about heroic characters in all forms who would fight for what they believed in, rose to the occasion and faced their demons (sometimes quite literally) head on and there I was sulking and ignoring what was in front of me.

Now, as a burgeoning adult, more than ever do I want to hot tail it to anywhere. I'd just take off, I'd ignore texts, calls, tweets, facebook messages, emails until I saw fit. Ideally, I'd go to a cabin a bit off the grid near a lake or the shore. Just me. I'd communicate with the outside world on my terms and my terms only. I would return, when the loneliness became more crippling than the boredom and I'd expect to able to do this with no-one asking me where I went, why I left or had I figured out the solution to what I was running away from. 

Taken from cabinporn.com 

Not often do I question this need that bubbles up from the pit of my stomach, that fills my throat and makes me feel on edge, that tells me to 'RUN'. It does feel though, when you take a step back that is it the most cowardly approach to dealing with life's problems. Is it though? It mightn't seem so outwardly valiant or productive but it allows time for reflection, putting distance between yourself and said problem can present you with a way to move forward in a more careful, thoughtful manner than squaring up to a much bigger, stronger opponent. It's gotten me this far, I'm unsure how useful it will be in the next few decades.

Will this feeling ever go away? Will it become less overwhelming and all consuming? Will it become a less frequent voice? I'm pretty certain that it won't, that this is for life and I'll carry it with me, wearing it on my self like scars. I was born with it, like the birthmark on my leg and now I'm stuck with it. It is part of the personality makeup of which I am made up of. 

This got me thinking perhaps it is 'genetic'? I didn't have far to look really. This led to my conclusion of: I blame my father. I would say he too, is a bit of a flighter, he has his form of escapism and both of us agree, the great open waters are an endless opportunity of adventure and 'getting away'. It's okay though, he can blame his father who was a sailor - a great job for a flighter not having any sort of permanent location for much of a given time. 

And thus conclusively, I was born to flight.

Right now, this very moment, today, yesterday, tomorrow my need to flight is stronger than ever. The voice is louder, angrier, more persistent. I'm like a deer in the woods, listening for any branch to snap. I just need the excuse, the reason and I am gone, Roadrunner quick - at least, for a short while.

Hometown Pride

Liverpool.

The Beatles. Football. Scousers.

She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. You'll Never Walk Alone. Calm down, calm down laa. 

Liverpool is my hometown (city, it's definitely a city; it has not one but two cathedrals, on the same street no less).  There's around 2million population, so it's not a huge city, I'll give you that. 

My stereotypical view of Americans is that they are very proud of their hometowns and colleges. Whereas us stereotypical Brits are less likely to be so audibly and showy about our hometown pride, but there is devout hometown pride nonetheless.

Of course, The Beatles, football and a view of Scousers are not all that this city has to offer. As I mentioned, we have two cathedrals on either end of the same street, much more music than just The Beatles, the Cavern and Mathew Street, museums, theatres, venues, bars/pubs/clubs galore, three universities and much more.  There's things to do and see on every night of the week, all within walking distance in heels.

You want more? You're highly likely to bump into a musician on any corner, actors, writers, boxers, footballers and academics too. Possibly for 4/6 of those on Hope Street or Bold Street alone. History is everywhere from the Bombed-Out Church (properly but not officially known as St. Luke's), Chinatown, the docks which encompasses prosperity and slavery and Mathew Street. Go into any drinking establishment and someone will be spin you a yarn, it might even be true. Anfield and Goodison are the churches of the football fans, pick a side and stick to it, but you must unite against Manchester United (apparently, I am not a football fan which I know is a slanderous act) and even non-football fans like me will solemnly unite for Justice for the 96. Go shopping in rollers, pyjamas and fake tanned, fake eyelashed up and you really won't get stared at. Hear loud, fast talking, slang swinging men, women and children just about everywhere - whether they're happy or angry or sad, you'll know about it.

I can fly the flag of what's going on in Liverpool any day of the week. See the Liver Bird and know where you stand.

Yet, I'm not hugely filled with hometown pride. I live outside of the city anyway, it's very close to woolyback land (google will help you out here). Either way it's not close enough to Liverpool city centre and equally not far enough away either.

Perhaps my distain for the city comes from having never lived anywhere else, the shine has faded and I have become cynical and jaded. I can see all the cracks and flaws, the murky areas and unemployment.

It's an insular city. Everyone knows everyone else, somehow. However, if you are in the fold, you will be looked after but trying to break away can rub people up wrongly.

Yes, yes, we're a friendly chatty bunch, we're Northerners but it is grim up here, weather wise mostly but look at someone the wrong way and a torrid fire of 'who you lookin' at? why d'ya think you can look at me like that' will come your way. The answer is 'no-one' or silence.

There is a lot of things to see and do, in walking distance which makes the claustrophobia set in. You will struggle to get lost. The Beatles - great band but there really are hundreds of past and present bands out there doing fine work in the city and I do like The Beatles, but I do prefer other bands and the Cavern isn't a magical place, rather a dark, dingy cellar. Yet, there are tribes of fashionistas, scallies, goths etc and I never seem to feel comfortable in any. I've been to the museums, I try to go to the theatre, I love seeing bands, I like having cups of tea in one of the many independent coffee/tea shops, I enjoy being able to stumble drunkenly from bar to bar without great effort and still at the end of the night have enough change for a chippy.

I'm very white, with dark hair (dyed half blonde courtesy of the finest hairdresser in Liverpool/anywhere, he works at Beauty Bazaar and his name is David if you are interested but I digress....), I have a few not-that-visible-tattoos, stretched ears but not to the extent that anyone notices and I dress mainly in black, but to no extremes. Right there, means that on nights out on more than one occasion I have been told by big haired, spider-leg-lashed, tanned girls in heels that are not far off stilts, that I look 'corpselike', 'ohmygod you're so pale, is that even natural? or 'are you a goth?'. No I'm not a goth, yes it is my natural pallor, thank you for the comparison to a dead body.

I'm sure, absolutely sure that for some people the city has everything and more to offer. It holds the key to their happiness, well being and success. It is actually a fine city, with lovely architecture and is always trying to self improve. Personally though, I am constantly trying to flee (unsuccessfully so, it seems). I've never came back from a visit elsewhere and been glad to be in the city. Home is different, home is where my bed is, my comforts, my cat but it's the whole 'wherever I lay my hat, that's my home' deal. You can become a big fish in the little Liverpool pond, but I still want to leapfrog over to another pond. 

This lack of city, hometown pride does make me feel a bit guilty and sad to tell you the truth. Wouldn't it be nice to proclaim loud and proud, with joy and heart where you stem from? To want to encourage people to visit the area, defiantly defend the place against those who think their hometown is better? Absolutely.

Liverpool will always be my hometown. I can't escape that fact and granted there are worse places to hail from.

Saying all that though, if you're not from Liverpool and you try to say it's rubbish.... wharra y'sayin'? you haven't even been. Who are ya? Aye lad, don't tell me to calm down mate. Errr no! 

It's my hometown. I'm allowed to slate it, but you're not.

Not my view, I'm British as well.

Come with me my love, to the sea

'I loved the Sea.

Whether in calm it glassed the gracious day

With all its light, the night with all its fires;

Whether in storm it lashed its sullen spray,

Wild as the heart when passionate youth expires;

Or lay, as now, a torture to my mind,

In yonder land-locked bay, unwrinkled by the wind.'

- Carmen Naturae Triumphale; Richard Henry Stoddard 

In film theory I was told that the ocean, the sea, water can represent a number of things for the characters and plot - new life, death, a change. 

'We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch - we are going back from whence we came.'

- John F. Kennedy

I live fairly close to the sea, sometimes it's not close enough but I find myself going there and sitting for hours, just sitting and watching and listening. It's a zen-like, meditative time of calm. The weather doesn't have to be sunny. It's somewhat preferably when there's a bite in the wind, nipping at your cheeks.

I find myself compelled to go when I have big decisions to make or when things are weighing heavy on my mind - especially when a bath can't do the trick. The sea, the waves, the water will fix it all.

As I sat on the shore in Split, Croatia a few years ago an elderly local man told me that the sea can heal all wounds but equally can cause them just as easy. He'd swam every day in the sea for as long as he could remember but he told me that never can you under estimate its power or fail to respect it. 

Watch the waves roll, lap at the sand. The magnitude of every ripple, the tiniest of crashes that had started miles away. How it's all connected with the rest of the world. It's mind blowing and puts you in your place. 

Company and entertainment is not needed when sitting on the shore. I always leave feeling less laden with worry, centred and relaxed.

Artists, musicians, writers and philosophers alike have been captivated by it for centuries. It's allure, I find undeniable and indescribable.

'The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever'

- Jacques Cousteau