A rose is still a rose

It’s hard to believe I share the same DNA as my brother.  If this were an American high school, he would most definitely be that effortlessly handsome jock, popular with the boys and girls alike.  I bear more resemblance to the girl in the back with the dark-rimmed glasses.  Not a complete geek but not exactly cool either.  It’s a fact I’ve learned to embrace about us, and he does definitely contribute something different to my life.  Certainly if we weren’t related, I would probably never even speak to someone like him, and vice versa. 

Michael always knows what to say, and when to say it.  He has this impressive sixth sense of being able to read people, and spot the snakes very early on.  He’s slow to trust, but once you’ve gained his loyalty you’ve joined a life-long club.  I am quick to trust, and quick to judge.  I tend to see the best in people, as oppose to their true colours and consequently get burnt more frequently and more easily.  I speak far too often without prior consideration, and subsequently result in having many blonde moments.  It means I don’t take myself too seriously, but other people don’t either.

Michael was born with reams of confidence.  Even from aged two, he had no qualms about pushing his six year old sister out of the way to get what he wanted.  He cares more about clothes, perfume and moisturiser than I ever could, in a heterosexual manner of course.  He has that arrogant sense of humour that girls just seem to flock around.  He’s good looking, but boy does he know it.  I’m relatively confident with my appearance but it’s taken me two decades to get truly comfortable with myself.  My sense of humour is ‘niche’ as I would like to call it.  Similar to marmite, it’s an acquired taste that either leaves you crying with laughter or completely confused. 

I would be lying if I said I’ve never felt pangs of jealousy towards him.  Perhaps a tiny part of me wanted to be him.  It’s slightly unusual for the older sister to be looking up to her little brother but at times it did seem that way.  I feel sure the concept of chalk and cheese was invented for us.  But it took me a long time to learn that you can’t compare chalk and cheese.  You can’t possibly rate them on the same scale because they are so different, and thus neither is better than the other.

Michael used to be a constant reminder of everything I wasn’t.  But through thinking this, I would forget all the good things about myself.  One of the first things we learn in life is that nobody is perfect, but here I was putting Michael up on this unrealistic pedestal, and damaging my own self confidence in the process.  It was self destructive, and didn’t do much for our relationship let me tell you.  But the key I believe was finding contentment within yourself and learning to accept yourself for who you are.  And it didn’t matter what Michael was or wasn’t, I was me.

I hate to pretentiously quote Shakespeare but the man knew a few things when he stated ‘a rose is still a rose.’  In other words, the personalities of others should have no bearing on the way you feel about yourself because you are still a rose, regardless of whether you are surrounded by daisies, daffodils, or larger roses.

And I believe the story of Michael and I will have a happy ending.  Though we live on different planets, we send warm greetings to each other.  And now I’ve taken him off that pedestal I could never condone the amount of time he spends on his appearance.  Just as he believes I don’t spend enough time at the gym.  But hurt him and I’ll kill you without hesitation.  And I can honestly say he’d do the same for me.

Survival of the Fittest

So I'm usually still half asleep on the way to work. Despite countless attempts, I have come to accept that I will never be that chirpy morning person.  But two incidents today jolted me out of sleep mode, a feat I previously believed impossible.  The first, is admittedly quite amusing.

If you saw me on the bus this morning, I'm ashamed to say I was that person with my head pressed up against the window, 'resting' my eyes and praying my dozy persona didn't make me miss my turn to get off.  Therefore you can imagine my reaction to a passing cyclist slamming his elbow into the side of the bus.  I almost jumped out of my skin.  It was a very much needed but unwelcome wake up call.  After that, I sat upright like a frightened rabbit, avidly alert for the duration of the journey.  Next time I will certainly think twice before giving in to fatigue in a public environment.

The second incident was spotting a sign that I realised I had passed everyday but never actually noticed before.  It stated 'freedom to the pike is death to the minnow.'  I took a minute to stare at it, ignoring the rush of people darting around me, looking too busy to take a breath.  And then I connected the two. 

Working in the professional world for three weeks now doing various bits of work experience in the city, I have come to learn that the world isn't waiting for me.  I am going to have to fight for it.  Because there are plenty of pikes out there willing to eat you for breakfast just to grab your opportunity.  There are winners and there are losers.  It's a survival of the fittest and many may drown in the process. 

Take central London for example.  The core of the corporate world.  You have to elbow your way through the crowd, fight for your seat on the tube and maintain your position in the coffee queue.  And if you don't?  Move out of the way rapidly before the person behind steps on you with their higher heels and feistier personality.  There isn't even space for losers.

So buy bigger heels.  Become a survivor.  Because amazing opportunities are not handed out.  You earn what you get.  Which makes winning that much sweeter in the end.

Rainy Days

'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.'

Sometimes you just have to raise your game.  For that period in life when it never seems to stop raining, metaphorically speaking.  For that period when bad things happen in threes.  For that period when the entire world seems to be on the opposition, laughing at your mistakes.  You can cry, sure.  You can weep all of the clouds out of the sky.  Sob yourself to sleep.  Let it rain.  But give yourself a set amount of time.  A period of mourning misfortune.  And then pick yourself up, dust yourself down and buy an umbrella.

Easier said than done I know.  Especially if it's a broken heart, job loss or even a death in the family.  But why lay down and die?  It's a tough time but the best consequence is that you emerge a stronger person.  Emotionally, mentally and psychologically stronger.  You'll install double glazing.  You'll grow a thicker skin.  So next time, you'll be ready for battle.  And best of luck to the next person who tries to mess with you.