I’ve transferred the contents of this blog over to Head Shoulders Knees & Toes and will no longer be updating this one. See you there!
I’ve been listening to Sofie Hagen‘s Made of Human Podcast (MoHPOD) for a while now. I like her so much. She’s lovable and funny, in a low-key, absolutely-not-obnoxious kinda way (I wonder what she is like when performing. Will I ever find out 😦 )
Was listening to episode 23 of the podcast (in which she interviews Mae Martin) today and liked what Mae said about self care and how she positively molly coddles (not her words) herself every single day. It made me happy to hear about someone not pushing themselves, but just easing into their day, every day: ‘Have a bath. Read a book for an hour etc’ (her words, more or less).
I’ve had to do that of late. My anxiety levels are crazy and are set off by the littlest, silliest things. Like, just five minutes ago, my daughter was looking for and couldn’t find something totally unimportant and I could feel my ears turning red and the start of palpitations. Like WTF. Anyway, I have had to practise a hell of a lot of self care. I sleep a lot. I read what I want. I lie in bed and ignore deadlines, within reason. It sometimes makes me feel guilty that I need to do these things to function. Listening to Sofie and Mae talk about being kind to themselves made me feel better about it.
What I most love about Sofie: She is fat and frank and positive (but real) about being fat (like she’s not 100% positive, which would just be not believable at all, but she is dealing with it positively, has an awesome life, is awesome, talks about her struggles and fears, and also her triumphs, is sexy and has sex – I mean, these are important things. Fat girls need to know that they can have an awesome life including have sex). She was what I needed at sixteen. And I still need her now at forty-nine.
The other person I now look to for inspiration and comfort: Jessamyn Stanley. Who needs Lena Dunham or Amy Schummer? Fuck them, I have my real heroes, Jessamyn and Sofie. Follow them on Instagram: Jessamyn & Sofie.
As I keep seeing listings (on Facebook) of music albums that people listened to a teens and which made a lasting impression, I thought I’d write a blog post about it.
Until I was fifteen or sixteen, I didn’t listen to whole albums, just whatever was on the radio, and the compilation catridges (yes, catridges) and cassettes my sisters played. I also remember a record player, but that was way back, when I was under five.
Before I was about thirteen, I didn’t really know what an album was, and the terms LPs, EPs and singles didn’t mean anything to me. I grew up in two small towns in Johor, Malaysia. There was no internet and only two TV channels. If I did hear about music charts, I had no idea what they were and how they worked: Why did only certain songs get played ad nauseum of the radio, while others didn’t receive any airtime at all?
I bought my first ‘single’ when I was eighteen and studying in Singapore. However, I didn’t have a record player and so I never played it. It was just something cool to own, but I can’t even remember who the artist was. I also remember buying John Taylor’s single I Do What I Do – a truly terrible song, but I thought he was hot (he was very pretty).
Singles would not have made sense in a market that dealt mainly in cassette tapes and it was still mainly tapes right into the first couple of years of the 90s. Also, music piracy was rife and we rarely bought original cassettes, preferring pirated ones for less than half what we would have paid for the originals. Pirated cassettes were known for containing more than just the album advertised on the sleeve. So, sometimes you’d get the artist’s earlier songs, or even stuff by someone else, but often uncredited. Thus, for years I thought The Miracles’ Love Machine was by Wham!
Another thing we did was make compilation cassettes, either recording straight from the radio (this meant the start of the song was sometimes missing, or the DJ would be talking over the track), or getting it done ‘professionally’ by a music shop: you gave them a list of songs and they’d get them on a cassette for you.
I used to get compilation tapes made at this music shop in Coronation Plaza in Singapore. Strange, but I remember so clearly the face of the guy who worked there, but not the tapes I had made, except for one of Debussy’s ‘greatest hits’. This was also where I bought my very first copy of David Bowie’s Station to Station, on cassette.
I think the first Bowie song I ever consciously heard was Oh! You Pretty Things, but it may have been the Herman’s Hermits version and I must have been about four or five. Growing up, I was aware of Bowie, the rock star, though because my sister had a Ziggy Stardust poster on her bedroom wall. I hasten to add that she was not a fan – she just put every poster in Jackie magazine on her wall.
I remember my father once remarked that Bowie was hideous. When I pointed out Wizzard’s Roy Wood to him, he said, ‘Well, this one [Bowie] doesn’t even need make-up to look ugly.’
I became a Bowie fan when he released Let’s Dance and I saved for his concert when he performed in Singapore. Station to Station and Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars were the albums I had on on repeat in my room in Jurong West. When I think of studying for the ‘A’ levels, Suffragette City or Golden Years start playing in my head. I bought a blank book for History notes, but I filled it with Bowie lyrics instead.
Some of these days, and it won’t be long
Gonna drive back down
where you once belonged
In the back of a dream car
twenty foot long
We can’t dance, we don’t talk much
We just ball and play
But then we move like tigers on vaseline
Well the bitter comes out better on a stolen guitar
You’re the blessed, we’re the Spiders from Mars
It’s not the side-effects of the cocaine
I’m thinking that it must be love
I’m an alligator, I’m a mama-papa coming for you
I’m the space invader, I’ll be a rock ‘n’ rollin’ bitch for you
I listened to a whole lot of albums when I was a teen. Most of the time it was because I thought the singer or band members were cute, but it was the 80s and lots of catchy songs (including some extremely silly ones) were released (the most annoying thing about cassette tapes were that you had to keep rewinding them to replay the song you wanted to listen to – often only one in an entire album). I can still sing along to most of these songs, and I guess that means they made a lasting impression on me. However, only a few albums I listened to then have stood the test of time, and remain in my music collection.
Bowie and the albums I mentioned; Kate Bush’s The Hounds of Love, which I’ve blogged about before; and Hall & Oates’ Rock ‘n Soul Part 1 (a singles collection, sorry but it happens) actually shaped my musical consciousness and tastes. I honestly can’t think of any others.
I quite enjoy some episodes of Bfm’s Night School podcasts, but I wish they had more female guests and featured more female thinkers and feminist theories.
Still, I often find the hosts’ discussions and views both informative and entertaining, especially as I am not well versed in philosophy and social theory. In style and tone, however, I am reminded of my ex husband and other males holding forth on topics they (believe) they have a better grasp of than I do.
I like that there is now a word to describe what these clowns love to do.
Somehow, this song from Cartoon Network’s Steven Universe (episode: Mindful Education) struck a chord with me. Even without paying close attention to the lyrics, I was comforted by its melody and the way the vocalists expressed themselves. Knowing the lyrics made the song even more meaningful.
Rebecca Sugar, the creator of Steven Universe, has stated that she wrote the song when she wanted a song that would calm her during a difficult time. I get that – it’s a song that I’ve been listening to over and over again because, to me, it’s about all the setbacks and problems I’ve faced, and also because it reminds me that I have people who are here for me, but that, ultimately, I’ve survived everything I’ve been through. ‘I’m here’ is not just reassurance from loved ones but also a self-affirming declaration.