Category: personality traits

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Skyscrapers

When my two boys were younger, they used to spend hours building towers out of anything that they could lay their hands on. The materials were largely irrelevant, but the challenge remained the same; to build something bigger and better than the one before. And, having witnessed the amount of time that had been invested in the construction process, I used to be somewhat dismayed at how quickly their creations were ruthlessly demolished. Now that they are older though, I can see the value in what they were doing and how their approach was, in fact, inextricably linked to the personality traits that were slowly evolving. And I suspect that my penchant for preserving their creations was possibly short-sighted. After all, the ability to be able to pick through the rubble and transform it into something bold and new is undoubtedly a skill worth honing.

‘The sky’s the limit’ by Gaynor Hall

Don’t imagine for even a second that the path was meant to be smooth,
Or that there’ll be a single moment when you won’t have something to prove.
Life’s a competition you see (‘though your opponents may sometimes be hidden)
With hurdles and problems to overcome on that horse that just begs to be ridden.

Don’t imagine for even a second that the playing field will be level,
Or that you can afford to take a back seat whilst in past achievements you revel.
There’ll always be someone who’s hot on your heels – charming, yet full of tenacity,
Waiting to seize the advantage should your work rate fall shy of capacity!

Don’t think for even a second that success needs to come with a ceiling,
The doubt that dwells within your mind is a very common feeling.
But don’t be content to throw in the towel, make sure that each battle is fought
With the maximum strength you can muster, no danger of selling yourself short.

Don’t think for even a second that failure must link arms with shame,
The hurt and disappointment will pass and then you can rally again.
Pick yourself up, dust yourself down, get ready to fight tooth and nail –
For victory is just ‘round the corner; blood sweat and tears will prevail.

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Marmite Month

January is one of those ‘love it or hate it’ months that seems to demand much, whilst delivering very little.

Part of the problem, of course, is that its arrival heralds the beginning of a sort of ‘Christmas Comedown’ when the lights, laughter and liberties of December fade (somewhat abruptly) from the memory, and the outlook becomes altogether bleaker.

Take for example, January’s unremittingly dark (and gloomy) mornings. Not only do they do little to improve your chances of kick-starting that (much needed) fitness regime, but the school run rapidly assumes the characteristics of an extreme sport (both in terms of parental coaxing and tantrum avoidance) because the kids (much like their parents!) are genuinely struggling to get back into any sort of meaningful routine.

There is also the somewhat stubborn existence of those (excruciatingly noble) good intentions to consider too…

Having finally realised that the Christmas ‘nibbles’ (that often resembled an extra meal) and rich assortment of alcoholic beverages (that wouldn’t normally grace your drinks cabinet at all but have nevertheless been consumed in quantity) have taken their toll, the only logical solution is to start a diet, detox or gym subscription. But a couple of days (or even hours) in, you remember just how difficult it is to find the energy or enthusiasm for any of these things, and the prospect of finishing off those festive treats quickly becomes the only thing that gets you through those long and dismal afternoons back at work. Thus, the lethargy attributed to overindulgence is deftly prolonged – with a keen sense of failure thrown in for good measure! Cue the (almost inevitable) arrival of those January blues…

For others though, January is the personification of hope; it is the month for new beginnings, and for ‘wiping the slate clean’. Put like this, it begins to sound a great deal more attractive and the mere process of setting new goals can be a powerful catalyst for optimism.

Having recently stumbled across my horoscope for 2022, however, I’ll admit that I was sorely tempted to strike through the entire calendar and take to my bed. I even considered leaving nothing but a white flag tentatively poking out from within the folds of my duvet, just to make my position clear. You’ll have gathered by now that the predictions were not very reassuring and, even the slightest cause for positivity, seemed to come with such a range of caveats as to render them firmly null and void! Perhaps that’s why those born in the relative ‘no man’s land’ of early January (i.e., Capricorns) are described as “ambitious, organised, practical and goal-oriented”. You’d certainly need to be!

So, what might 2022 have in store for you?

Perhaps you are hoping to change jobs, or to move house? Perhaps you are tempted to venture abroad once more? Perhaps you are going to make this the year that you repair any fractured relationships – or maybe, you’ll simply nurture the ones that you have?

Whatever your goals this year, there is genuine cause for celebration here. Because (if you are reading this) you have already survived 50% of Marmite Month, the days are gradually getting longer and the opportunities for getting out and about are steadily increasing too.

In short, better times are ahead.       

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What does your ‘11 o’clock number’ say about you?

How many times have you uttered the words “I wish someone had told me that before” – or something similar? The truth is, of course, that they probably did – it’s just that you might not have been all that receptive at the time…

That’s the unfortunate thing about ‘advice’. It’s frequently offered where none was in fact sought and, even if it was, there’s a strong chance that anything remotely unpalatable will have been instantly cast aside. But there’s also something to be said for being ‘allowed’ to make your own mistakes and I sometimes wonder if (by advocating the type of ‘helicopter parenting’ frequently demonstrated on Facebook) we are in fact depriving our children of the opportunity for developing some good old-fashioned resilience?

Over the years I must have taught hundreds of songs (from a wide range of genres, and to pupils of all ages) but by far the most popular ones have been those plucked straight from the world of musical theatre. So, what is it about the humble musical that has made it such an enduring hit?

Perhaps it’s

  • The instantly singable tunes – suited to crowded auditoriums and compact shower cubicles alike
  • The license for (over) sharing of emotion – who doesn’t love a diva?!
  • The spectacle – ‘The Lion King’ definitely springs to mind here, with its breath-taking 18-foot exotic giraffe puppets
  • The escapism – often much needed at the end of the working week
  • A combination of the above

Whatever the draw, this particular art form continues to enjoy a tremendous level of popularity, and this got me thinking about the so-called ’11 o’clock number’. This is a theatre term used for a show-stopping song that occurs late in the final act of a musical. It is traditionally sung by the main character and marks the point at which they reach an important realisation.

Looking back to my early thirties, I’m almost certain that ‘Defying Gravity’ would have been mine. I was confident, determined, and headstrong and I had a very clear idea of what I wanted from life. More than a decade later (and valuing family, health and happiness over career, status, and wealth) I fear that my 11 o’clock number might be rather different now…

I’m going to go with ‘Sit down you’re rockin’ the boat’ – in recognition of my unashamed desire to slip under the radar and avoid any unnecessary conflict. Anything for an easy life really!

So, how about you?    

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Would you rather

I wonder just how many of us have, at one time or another, resorted to playing the odd game of ‘Would you rather?’ in an attempt to kill some time? I know that we’ve played it on numerous occasions (whilst stuck in traffic or seated at a restaurant, waiting for our food to arrive) and it always fascinates me to see just how much of a quandary can be sparked by a handful of seemingly innocuous choices.

Rather quickly, a picture begins to emerge as to the personality traits and priorities of each player and the rationale behind some of the decisions (in our household at least) has been nothing short of hilarious at times.

And so, in deference to that tension dispersing, mood enhancing, sanity saving family rescue tool, here are my (somewhat irreverent) thoughts as to what the workplace equivalent might look like:

‘Would you rather’ by Gaynor Hall

Would you rather wear a tutu or a wetsuit to the office?
Or carefully don a crisp white veil and pretend to be a novice?

Would you rather commute by bicycle, by skateboard or on foot?
Or travel along the floo networks of Rowling’s wizarding books?
 
Would you rather clean the staffroom fridge, or fix the photocopier?  
Neither one sounds tempting, but with which would you be happier?

Would you rather get a pay rise, or a boost in annual leave?
Or maybe just an amnesty on the 100+ emails received?

Would you rather date your manager, or perhaps the boss’s son?
Exactly how far would you go to get that promotion won?

Would you rather have an argument, or staunchly bite your tongue?
Is hot-headedness in the workplace just the dominion of the young?

Would you rather court the limelight, or support from behind the scenes?
How important is it to you that you get to chase your dreams?

Would you rather be a leader, or perhaps a keen foot soldier?
Do you value your family time much more, now you’re getting older?

Would you rather inspire fear, or try to keep an open door?
Does it make good sense to perpetuate the misery of before?

Would you rather leave behind you a sense of loss, or of relief?
Or perhaps, like me, you’d rather be known for humour and mischief!

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The Adolescent

Parenting is undeniably one of the greatest challenges that I have ever faced, and I frequently question why quite so many of us put ourselves through this particular ordeal…

As voluntary jobs go, it is ‘right up there’ in terms of emotional investment and logistical planning and (once the prepubescent hormones kick in) the ‘goal posts’ certainly seem to move with baffling proclivity.  Nothing that I have encountered in either the exam room or the classroom has even come close to the dramatic surges in blood pressure that my own children have managed to induce, and (for a reasonably confident person) I’ll admit to having given in to feelings of utter inadequacy at one time or another.  It is then, as they say, just a happy coincidence that I am writing this now – before my two boys decide that they are old enough to contradict me!

Despite frequently thinking that a user manual might have been helpful, I’ve never been one for reading vast tomes on parenting. Besides, who actually has the time to read that type of stuff whilst frantically trying to juggle the demands of their job with the day to day needs of their offspring? On the other hand, if someone (who has done the necessary research) could please just explain to me how two children from the exact same gene pool can be so utterly different in temperament and outlook, I’d be ever so grateful!

What follows then, is my (deliberately tongue in cheek) ‘Attenboroughesque’ commentary on the ‘Adolescent’ – that most complex of human species!

If one looks carefully into the dense urban undergrowth, it should be possible to pick out a lone adult female scratching her head in bewilderment. The eldest of her offspring (at just over a decade old) is seemingly ill-equipped to take responsibility for any aspect of his existence and looks to her to ensure that his every need is met. Multiple items of clothing lie strewn about the enclosure whilst the parched bristles of a toothbrush show no sign of recent activity. A pair of glasses (the lenses of which look oddly opaque, buried as they are under a thick crust of grime) lie discarded upon the ground, whilst the pages of a book (heavily dog eared from the nocturnal pursuits of the past 11 hours) rest casually within the creases of a hollow fibre duvet. Contained beneath the solace of the cosy bedding, glimpses can be snatched of a bleary pale blue iris, tentatively attempting to take in its immediate surroundings, braving the relative intensity of the new dawn. But alas, this brief display of energy proves utterly overwhelming and (having issued a deep guttural groan for good measure) the adolescent willingly submits himself to the clammy darkness of his natural habitat once more.

Meanwhile, movement can be detected from inside enclosure two. Light streams in through the main observation point revealing meticulously organised sleeping quarters and a spirited young male engaging in the final throes of his morning routine. As he nonchalantly casts his towel over a nearby radiator, deftly selecting a playlist at maximum volume on his Echo Show, it is clear that this young mammal has no intention of awaiting instructions (or seeking approval) from the adult male who can be seen lethargically arriving upon the scene. Hackles rise as the two males begin posturing for supremacy, and the early threads of conversation swiftly escalate into the loud staccato tones of conflict. For now, at least, the young male grudgingly accepts defeat and beats a hasty retreat. From the confines of his den, he sets about laboriously (and vociferously) pacing the perimeter until the call of the alarm clock finally beckons. With a degree of calm temporarily restored, the adult male can be seen lavishly preening himself, as he basks in his first (and probably last!) victory of the day.

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Learning to dance in the rain

As a young child I was definitely a ‘glass half empty’ sort of person. I can remember grumbling about all manner of things, frequently behaving as if the world were about to end. Looking back, I’m quite sure that this pessimistic outlook on life was one of the main factors in earning me the title of ‘Mummy’s little ray of sunshine’ in my mid-teens. The irony certainly wasn’t lost on me, even then!

Of course, some of our character traits are inherited, whilst others develop in response to our experiences and surroundings. However, I’m inclined to believe that certain aspects of our personality can’t really be altered and that it is, therefore, simply a case of embracing those desirable qualities that essentially define us, and then working hard to dilute the less favourable ones – petulance included!

Like so many parents, my husband and I have (inevitably) had to weather countless ‘storms’ where prepubescent hormones have clashed violently with parental exhaustion and (as someone for whom a strong sense of justice is inextricably ingrained) I have genuinely struggled to tolerate such bouts of unreasonable behaviour. On each occasion though, I have just about managed to remind myself that I am the ‘grown up’ and that being drawn into a full-scale shouting match with a 9- or 10-year-old boy is neither dignified, nor productive. I’m not going to lie though; it’s often been a close-run thing!

Then came covid-19, a global aggressor intent upon flaunting uncertainty, fear, and anxiety galore. With daily liberties revoked, livelihoods at risk and a substantial threat to life, perspectives began to shift, and families had no choice but to adapt.

With trips to restaurants quite literally ‘off the menu’, the focus on home cooking intensified. With cars sitting redundant on the drive, walking or cycling became the favoured mode of transport or exercise. Little by little, daily routines evolved and (with them) so did our expectations.

We simply had to accept that instant gratification had been placed (rather ironically) ‘on hold’.

And it was being forced to live through this strange new existence that really made me stop and think. The stark realisation that my ‘glass half empty’ approach to life would be of absolutely no use to me now, hit me like the proverbial sledgehammer. With no legitimate timescale in the offing, I figured that ‘waiting for the storm to pass’ was probably not the best strategy here, but that ‘learning to dance in the rain’ might just be the better option! 

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Otter or Platypus?

I recently walked in on the tail end of a class debate. Rather uncharacteristically, I had arrived a few minutes early – and I was instantly intrigued.

A young lady was standing at the front of the classroom, merrily extoling the advantages of living with friends (as opposed to parents) promoting this as an enviable alternative for today’s adolescents. She was busily siting a multitude of (perceived) benefits to her peers, and she certainly had the support of the room. Now, I won’t go into exactly what these benefits were, but the look on my colleague’s face was enough to indicate that (like so many discussions with young children) things had moved in a very different direction from that of the original remit! To say that she looked horrified would have been an understatement.

Much discussion is currently taking place in the media, about the rapidly spreading Indian variant of Covid-19, and how this might impact the next phase of lockdown easing measures in the UK. And yet, only a matter of days ago, friends and families were celebrating the ability to embrace loved ones once more, with the ‘humble hug’ having acquired almost celebrity status following such a lengthy period of enforced abstinence!

As with so many issues relating to the global pandemic though, views have (of course) been divided. One person’s sheer delight at being able to return to a more tactile form of interaction, has no doubt been met with absolute dread by a person for whom the notion of ‘social distancing’ has provided the perfect excuse to remain rather detached from others.  

So, where do you stand on the whole issue of physical contact? Are you similar to the otter, for example?

We know that otters are sociable creatures, for whom ‘safety in numbers’ is undeniably a watchword. They frequently hold ‘hands’ in groups (called a raft) whilst eating, resting, or sleeping to prevent them from drifting apart and losing each other.

Or, perhaps you are more akin to the platypus? Solitary beings who spend their lives feeding along the bottoms of rivers (or resting in burrows dug deep into the banks) and don’t seem to have the stomach (quite literally, in fact!) for lots of company.

On balance, I suspect that (a bit like me) you sit somewhere between the two. I’m more than happy to indulge in varying degrees of physical contact, as long as it’s on my own terms!

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