To be short; it made me feel like I was an entirely different generation to Amy Schumer and she is only 7 years younger than me. It underlined to me how women's perceptions have developed since I was growing up and was utterly refreshing in her 'f*ck it' attitude to everything. There is a lot of swearing and a lot of sex and I felt torn about whether I should recommend it to my daughter and her friends.
To put it it simply Amy does not take any shit. Amy gets it. Amy stands up for what she knows to be right. It is this inherent belief in her that surprised me. And the book is peppered with very insightful and painful glimpses into her family situation, her father's degenerative illness and her fairly complicated relationship with her mother. Fascinating. I was obsessed and read it in a day or two. It's stayed with me after - always the sign of a good read. Perception-altering.
This week I had a small operation; it was an elective one and I am fine and it's all OK. The process was enlightening though, I have thought about it (and been scared of it) for years and finally decided I should go ahead. I had a month to carry the knowledge round with me and it made me feel all out of sorts, I couldn't put my finger on it but I was worried in that generic way, feeling slightly off. Of course it went well and I needn't have been anxious but I was nevertheless. Dear friends helped me out and made sure I was well looked after. I am not good with the unknown. I learned that general anaesthetic is the ultimate in the unknown - the unconscious - and despite the fact that I understand what happened to me when I was under, I can not comprehend how that all worked! It was bizarre!! The most strange experience. But I have to admit, although my relief to come around was palpable, I quite enjoyed the oblivion. Does that sound strange?!
I watched a TV programme last night called 'Inside British Vogue' in which an irreverent journalist followed the Editor of Vogue, Alexandra Schulman. It was frightfully British and faintly embarrassing to behold at times. I remain conflicted by high fashion. There's something marvellous about it; elitist and beautiful but there is also that seeping desperation to be one of those girls working at Vogue. Just how connected would one need to be to get to sit outside Schulman's office and call oneself her 'gatekeeper'? I found myself wondering how they all decide to get dressed each day and how exhausting it must be. I recall the days of my corporate life, when the biggest bosses would arrive in the office and we would all be poised, ready to make our mark. How much my life has changed.
Speaking of which, there have been another spate of drop-outs on my Masters course. This makes me sad, what a shame that people decide to quit. They all had their reasons but still, it's disappointing and will make my experience in my second year quite different. Funny isn't it how you come to rely on others to form a critical mass? I face my next academic year with some trepidation therefore. This is where I have to really do the work. I see that completing the first draft of my novel lulled me into a sense of security, as if the job was done. I realise now it is not done, it has just begun!
My children are back in the rigour of their school terms and life has become a series of scheduled events again after the freedom of the summer. Despite my internal protestations, I like the rigour, the order suits me better. Knowing where I am and where they are. I am a creature of habit.
Oh and as an aside I really want these shoes...
The weekend beckons, Autumn looms. I am looking at winter coats. Who can believe that we are here again and a year has passed since I last typed that sentence?!
|images via grace spain tumblr|