Fiction writers have been called many things, but magician seems to me the best description.  They dip into the black hat of their imagination and produce an endless variety of characters, situations, images, genres, events, and styles.  The effect on readers is nothing less than magical, the reader also becoming a magician, assisting in making visible what wasn’t there before.

Writers and magicians depend on their skillful fingers for their art.  Slight of hand has considerable value in a writer’s bag of tricks—the ability to juggle numerous characters, settings, scenes, and themes simultaneously, rivaling the most accomplished conjurer.  The reader’s willing suspension of disbelief is sometimes necessary for the writer’s art to be fully realized.

But trusting in these magician’s skills also requires that the writer suspend her disbelief, and that isn’t easy.  Each time I start a new story, a new chapter, a new novel, I must trust that the seeds of words take root in the soil of the page and continue to grow, watered and fertilized whenever I open my computer and put fingers to keyboard.  I must trust each work I create will grow within my imagination as I write, that I’ll read and experience things that will feed the book, just as a child grows in the womb.  Slowly.  Stage by stage.  If I can trust this, I can have the confidence to proceed.

So much of writing fiction is searching for the right tone, the correct voice.  I probe the prose I’ve written over and over to try and find what the passage needs, what’s hidden between syllables, under words.  It’s an ongoing search for the story, for the meaning, letting the imagination lead.  Something clicks within me, as with an emotionally accurate dream interpretation.  I can sense when I’ve hit the vein, when the path becomes clearer.  It must be similar for a musician who can hear when a pitch is off.  There’s a physical reaction when something doesn’t sound right.  So I constantly reread what I’ve already written until the material shifts and something new comes into view.  But the process itself can be agonizing.  Each day I have to prove to myself again that I can do it—that my imagination will come through.

I fondle, tussle with, twist, and stroke the words, willing them into action, like a magician looking into a crystal ball.  I approach them contritely, humbly, realizing that they have all the power, the authority here.  I’m merely a handmaiden, doing their will.  I’m their instrument.  The story makes me become more visible as I tease out the strands of plot, image, character.  It works on me as much if not more than I work on it.

This is so much like sculpting, reminding me of when I worked on the elephant that emerged from the rock I chiseled for months.  I had to concentrate on the stone and nothing else, letting it become my guide, like language.  The stone was my language.  Writing is like painting too.  First I sketch in foreground.  Then I have to spend a long time filling in background, working the shadows, a touch of color here, one that will stand out like yellow or red.  A deeper tone there so it will recede.  Burnt umber or sienna.  A moody deep blue.  Oh yes and the moods, the way color shapes that part of a scene or passage.

This reminds me of Jacob wrestling with the angel, and it seems to me each time I sit down to work on a novel or story I feel like Jacob.  That’s one reason why it’s harder to write fiction.  It takes extra effort and I resist it more.  Writing essays—travel articles, personal narratives, whatever—comes easy.  No problem.  But the other, the invention, takes much more from me.  It requires a heroic effort.

Come and join me live at Ashbury Music Hall!

http://www.ashburymusichall.com/offerings/vocal-lessons-introduction

http://www.ashburymusichall.com/offerings/true-voice-course-audio

AllAboutJazz.com’s Managing Editor John Kelman posted his review of vocalist/composer Fay Victor’s latest release, The FreeSong Suite (Greene Avenue Music), over the weekend.

“Once again,” he writes, “Victor’s soulful, emotive delivery combines with avant-tinged invention, placing her alongside great vocal innovators like Betty Carter, Jeanne Lee, Sheila Jordan…a truly creative singer with the chops to accomplish whatever she wants, but the good taste to ensure that substance always trumps style.”

He adds, “With an ensemble that twists and turns the music in response to, and as a catalyst for, Victor’s own unbound improvisational acumen, The Freesong Suite is a vocal album that stands well above the pack; a welcome respite from the unwieldy preponderance of unimaginative vocal jazz albums hitting the market.”

I was suddenly dispatched, at some expense, to a land far away, where incredible towers rise from the desert. I was to meet an Important Person, ask him questions, and catch his voice in a little black box. Then I was to come home and turn his floating words into printed ones.

Once the black box had captured its conversational cargo, I held it carefully. I thought about it at night while lying in my hotel room. I packed it gingerly into my bag. At the airport, I felt a sickening lurch as the box went into a small tunnel, through electro-magnetic fields that could zap its life away.

And all through my flight, I gazed at the black box with fear and dread, praying for the trapped little voice inside.

…well, this will be a few more than one.

It just dawned on me that I don’t have to teach violin at all. I could stop tomorrow and I would still have contributed a great deal in my life to this point, as well as accomplished so much that I am grateful for.

I don’t need to do it “just because” I had the opportunity to do it. I was perfectly ready to throw that all away as soon as I went to college. Why is it so hard now?

I also don’t owe it to anyone to “give back” if I happen to change my mind about what I want to do. I have been doing this for five years. I’ve given back more than I ever thought I would give back in terms of music.

I am really fascinated with people, their stories, their bodies, their voices, and their relationship with sound. I like that I have a certain familiarity with music, but I’m not so tied to my violin that I need it to identify myself. I will be able to come up with a new Twitter handle, but it’s just not that urgent. I have been coming to more and more CIIS sessions without my violin, with the desire to continue to free my voice. I know I have musicality in my body. I love music because I am alive in my spirit. I want to enjoy that. Period. Nothing else to prove.

I don’t really care about “saving classical music”. I know a lot more than many people will ever forget about classical music, but I don’t really have to make anyone else know that. It is a part of me that I carry into every moment of my being, just like every experience I’ve ever lived through. How I choose to allow it to control my actions in each moment is up to me.

I do find such joy in seeing people come alive. If I can use music to do this, then what a great gift.  But I would also really love to become a skilled facilitator of Real Speaking. I feel there is so much potential and opportunity there for me, being part of the beta group who will help give birth to the program. At least one other participant is such a whippersnapper business woman that I look forward to learning from and supporting. I don’t feel like I have to jump out and carry all the weight for this process. I am simply an important co-creator.

I am a little frustrated by how slow the coaching process can be. I like being there to witness breakthroughs. I am less excited about the grind of the day to day. I know this is unenlightened but it’s where I am right now. But if I can find a way to STAY CURIOUS and KEEP WONDERING what’s going to happen, I experience fun. This is my new approach to teaching, as my latest survival mechanism. So far, I’m thriving, by busting up everything that seems old and stale.

I am still ruled mostly by the beliefs in my head that took root so long ago. I know what I need, and am just vigilantly on the lookout for that transformational experience to put my soul on the line and allow it to grow beautiful wings forever. I need to go down, down, down, to fly up, up, up. I’m not trying to fail, I’m just trying to be totally unafraid as I put ideas into the universe. And learn to trust myself. Even my fear and anger need a place to be given thanks.

I am not exactly in a state of anger right now, but I am having to look very closely at what makes me angry in order to see that the feelings are all based on thoughts that have no basis in MY reality. They are derived from my perceptions of other people’s lives, and my fear of not becoming like them. They are not an acknowledgment of the energy of full abundance that I, as a person born and living on this earth right now, have access to. Let me please wake up to that soon.

We just had two days with Pat Moffitt Cook, PhD, founder of the Open Ear Center on Bainbridge Island, Washington. She was very linear in her presentation style, although her content was completely holistic and expansive. She has an incredibly intuitive presence and way of dealing with people on a real emotional level, confronting their blockages with ease and gentleness while not avoiding the tough spots. In other words, she is a deep listener. She says we all have listening capabilities not only through our ears, but through our skin and our bones. These latter modalities of listening are how we pick up the emotional content and meaning of what we hear. They govern how we learn, and how we interact with others.

It’s a fascinating field of study, first pioneered in the 1950s by the French otolaryngologist Alfred Tomatis. The Tomatis Method says that “the voice cannot produce a sound that the ear has not heard.” Sounds a lot like the basis for the original writings of Shinichi Suzuki, founder of the approach to music training.

Our first day was focused on cross-cultural music healing, using humming, toning, and bija mantras as ways to stimulate the auditory system, and guided-imagery music listening sessions. Today we delved into the Tomatis Method and some of the science behind it (it’s a vast field and not something reasonably covered in just two or three hours), followed by more listening to prescriptive music, designed to “meet the patient where they are” or the “iso” principle. We noticed that some music is grating or “annoying” because it forces us to confront certain mental states we suppress or avoid – chaos, agitation, anxiety, for example – but then through repetition and gradual minimal changes, the brain then entrains to the music and comes out of that original state.

I am most fascinated with the observation that how we listen, and how we hear, are two different things. It takes skill and practice to discern these, but it’s the key to unlocking our ways of learning and interacting with the world around us since our birth. How we speak and use our bodies and voices also tells a practitioner how we listen. Pat was able to look at a person while doing a “voice scan” (starting from lowest pitch in their range and sliding up to their highest pitch, then back down again)  and know so much about their way of putting themselves out to the world. I immediately wanted to start learning how to deeply listen to all the voices of people in my life, in order to really hear who they are. I thought of my own voice, and how little I use it lately. And how it’s true that it means I’m holding parts of myself silent.

Listen listen listen. We all need a refresher course on how this really works.

Okay, I have to admit it. I’m hooked on figure skating. I watch the nationals and all the grand prix events like Skate Russia, America, China. I can’t wait for the Vancouver Olympics.

And I look forward to the day I can watch the Stars on Ice live, in person, front row. That is, when I’ve made a million dollars (I can dream, can’t I?).

My favorite skaters though are the most artistic, usually the professionals: Kristi Yamaguchi, Scot Hamilton, and my all time pair, Ekaterina Godeeva and Sergei Grinkov…and when he died, I cried. When she remarried, I rejoiced.

Here are some lessons I’ve learned from the skating world:

1. Amateur skaters have to work exceptionally hard. Amateurs are the ones who have to adhere to the rules or fail. In the short program, the focus is on technique. There are specific requirements: so many jumps, a combination triple jump, straight line sequence, spiral and spins. Even in the long program whose focus is artistic, there are specific requirements and these tend to make skaters tense.

In much the same way, beginning writers face many “do’s.” Agents and editors give us rules from how to write a query, how to avoid “be” verbs, passive, semi-colons, etc. etc. These rules can hinder creativity, much like how they affect amateur skaters.

2. Amateurs don’t get paid unless they live in Russia, in which case the state gives them just enough to live on. The only way amateurs make decent money is to medal and get endorsements.

In much the same way, writers have to polish their craft, working with peers and editors until the manuscript reads like a bestseller. It’s the only way to stand above the crowd and receive some financial compensation.

3. Amateurs have to take the chance on inventing new moves, like the Bielman’s spin where she reaches behind her and pulls one leg while spinning on the other, or the tunnel jump invented by Brian Boitano, raising one arm. In the same way, writers have to take chances and set trends.

For instance, I heard agent after agent tell me they weren’t sure my memoir would take because no middle-class African woman had written a cross-cultural memoir involving immigration. I’m sure the first vampire novel suffered rejection until someone decided he/she liked one.

Now there’s a glut. Same with teens who possess superpowers. Now, it’s almost impossible to find average young adults who aren’t zapping whole universes just by pointing. If you have an idea that’s untried, don’t be afraid to go for it. Set a trend rather than follow others.

4. Professional skaters have programs that are far more innovative and fun. Once skaters make the switch from amateurs to professionals, their skating takes on new artistic heights. They are simply breath-taking, especially when they’re just doing shows.

Ekaterina Godeeva barely does any jumps, but God, can she mesmerize! A man only has to watch her skating with Iliak to fall in love with her. I still gasp when a male skater does flips.

In much the same way, a writer who has achieved publication discovers the freedom to create and explore, the confidence to express one’s true voice. While many of us are amateurs, we can still write with passion and abandon. Within reason. Rules help us to develop our skills.

Ultimately, we must listen to the voice within,
the ‘thing’ that’s uniquely us.

~ Bisi

Patrick Warburton (Born 1964 in Paterson, NJ) is an American Television and Film Actor and Voice artist. Despite appearing in over 100 different Television and Film projects since 1986, he is probably best known to most people for his role as David Puddy, Elaine’s on again/off again, man-fur wearing, “High Five!”, boyfriend on “Seinfeld”. His extensive TV resume includes “Northern Exposure”, “Seinfeld”, “Murphy Brown”, “Mad About You”, “Just Shoot Me!”, “Designing Women”, “Ellen”, “Grace under Fire”, “Dave’s World”, “Newsradio”, “Buzz Lightyear of Star Command” (voice), “The Tick”, “8 Simple Rules”, “Less than Perfect”, “Kim Possible”, “The Venture Brothers” (voice), “Rules of Engagement”, “Family Guy” (voice), and dozens of others. His Film resume includes “Scream 3″, “The Emperor’s New Groove” (voice), “Joe Somebody”, “Big Trouble”, “Men in Black 2″, “Home on the Range” (voice), “Hoodwinked” (voice), “Rebound”, “Chicken Little” (voice), “Open Season” (voice), “Bee Movie” (voice), “Get Smart”, “Space Chimps” (voice), and many others.

Autograph #251 in Collection.

Google will be shutting down Grandcentral on 12/31/09.

I was looking for a new house in a Housing Society for a relative. A housing society around here is an agglomeration of buildings made by a single entity. These buildings are usually in a compound. The compound has its own shops, medical facilities etc. I was using my net book with my current video glasses. Part of the compound was still being constructed. My mom and I strolled over to it. I could hear men digging some distance away so I turned my head in that direction and tried to see whether I could watch them dig. That did not happen but I was able to make out a small pile of stones that was lying to the left. For some reason, that made my mom sit up for the first time in so many years and take notice of the vOICe. After that, I saw plants, several doorways and walls and even had a chance to look at some staircases. I had to of course remember to look down while on the staircase. Staircases do have distinct rhythms. I was also able to see people and was able to track the side profile of a man as he walked past my position. I did once mistake two walls that were close together for some plants but I suspect there was some clutter in the scene. Doorways are also easy to make out once you know what to look for. A half opened door has a sort of angry sound unless of course the door is a little broad which tempers the sound. Context of course plays a very large role in all of this. For example, I was looking at some corrugated sheets they had placed around one of the buildings. These sheets resembled shutters of shops. Subsequently, as we cruised around the compound in a battery-operated golf cart, I saw something else that looked like corrugated sheets. At that point, my dad explained that these were not corrugated sheets but, they’ve had a similar texture to those sheets. He described it in terms of ridges and valleys and, upon feeling them, I’m not going to disagree with that description.

I would recommend a battery operated golf cart to anyone. In case you want to try driving with the vOICe, I doubt you could find anything better. They are quite open so you can track traffic noise and I suspect it should be possible to mount a camera on them. I did not try driving the golf cart this time because of the poor field of view of my camera.

One of the reasons we had all gone to the housing society was to gauge whether we could estimate the quality of construction. My civil engineer father explained to me that gauging the quality of construction is virtually impossible in a plastered wall. Most of the initial houses we saw were finished so all you could see was smooth walls and floors. The trick apparently is to see a house that is being constructed. There would be irregularities in the concrete which would tell you that the construction is of poor quality. I was unable to really see any such concrete on this trip.

There were also several balconies that I was able to perceive.

After seeing a number of sample houses, we returned to the office of the real estate agent. I decided to flip through some of his brochures. Surprise surprise, I was able to distinguish that there were different shapes on that brochure. The trouble is, I don’t know the English alphabet all that well. Also, I wish there was a way to increase the inter-letter spacing and to make them larger. I did try two fold zoomed but that did not help much.

I had a b-scan of my eyes. Checkout the image of that scan. The optic nerve is the wavey line towards the top of the image.

There is a lot of scarring in my eyes so not much else is visible. The doctor doing the ultra sound had a lot of difficulty in finding the optic nerve. She had to press the probe down hard and that got a tad uncomfortable. My eye has been described as a disorganized globe. It is very difficult to determine the exact structures inside my eyes. You can try and sdee whether you can analyze the shapes of these structures.

Tay is on fire with “You You You”. We are seeing more and more of side “H” for hot! This masterpiece of near musical perfection is like a gift so near the holidays. The song starts in signature Tay Zonday style then transitions to a faster, deeper, sometimes echoing musing on love, want, desire, and longing. Barry White is gone but if Tay wished he could have overwhelmed us with a firestorm of guttural growls. Instead, he purposely emits a warm steady fire that slowly touches without burning.

The background for the video set the right tone for it’s fast pace. Hearing the song first you expect a scene similar to “Cherry Chocolate Rain”. Instead, we are left with imagery harkening to an outdoor concert. Not closed off at all but visuals full of freedom and expression.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZ8URhMkf7o

Humans have been telling stories to each other since time immemorial. They serve a deep psychological and sociological need. Let us examine a few key concepts:

WHAT IS A STORY?

Quite simply, it is a journey of inter-connected events with a beginning, middle and an end providing

• dramatic fulfillment
• education
• knowledge
• entertainment
• emotional stimulation and,
• a satisfying conclusion (we love closure)

Stories began as visual medium when our forebearers painted images on cave walls. or drew with sticks in the sand. They were accompanied by words or grunts. As complex language developed, stories were increasingly verbalized, and later on written. Stories today can be exclusively composed of images, written words or speech, but often times are a combination. Cinema is primarily a visual medium, with a lesser proportion of words (dialogue). Television is more dialogue based than cinema in general.

A story must have a purpose. For instance, the Australian Aboriginal woman at a rock formation called “The Devil’s Marbles” in the Northern Territory told stories to keep youngsters away from these rocks to avoid danger. A story can be as dry as a depiction of actual events or “life-like” events. Even fantasy fairy tales emulate “life-like” events through suspension of disbelief. Whatever dungeons and dragons we use, the events in a story must feel authentic .

Stories also need a theme (exploration of the human condition). What topics or concepts is your story exploring? Racism? The power of the human spirit during disaster? Love always triumphs over evil? Revenge? And the list goes on. This has been discussed in an earlier blog in the 36 dramatic situations by Georges Polti.  Be careful that you are only exploring one central theme and perhaps one or two minor ones. Otherwise your story loses focus which must be found.

In order to make a story compelling, there must be a protagonist (hero), a goal, a dilemma, conflict, an antagonist (nemesis) and a moral (leading to growth) to create a complete experience. And more importantly, an audience. Stories help us communicate with each other, and add meaning and enrichment to our lives. They bring people together through sharing and help us evolve and grow stronger.

Dramatica defines story as a grand argument dealing with a problem or an inequity. Huh? Basically, it raises the issue of a hero with a conflict as they are yanked from their natural world through a critical or inciting incident, and how they go about solving it.

During a recent seminar by Jen Grisanti (a Hollywood writers’ consultant and wonderful person too), she spoke of the importance of finding your story. What is the writer specifically trying to say? Why are they taking up her with a series of events? Is your story too episodic? What do you want your audience to get from watching your film? What message are you trying to convey to your audience?

The movie “Tootsie” spent close to a decade in development until the writer Larry Gelbart finally decided that ‘Tootsie” was a story about a man who had to become a woman in order to better understand them and himself. It wasn’t so much a story of desperation, the lengths people go to to make it as an actor, or about a guy liking to dress up. Consider “What Women Want” with Mel Gibson and Helen Hunt which was essentially the same story with body rather than clothes swapping.

Jen Grisanti sees stories as media for building communities. Pretty powerful stuff. A good story must have clarity and must be relevant to the times. How does the story make you feel? These are primal concepts, but difficult to nail down. It must also possess deeper symbolism to have a greater impact on us. She sees the important aspects of raising the emotional stakes in a story as being

• anticipation
• expectation
• participation
• surprise and,
• a delayed payoff

WHAT IS A PLOT?

A plot is simply the way a story is executed, or a cause and effect series of events. A road map. It is the mechanics of your story; how the sequence of events are put together. Many writers confuse the two and think writing event after event constitutes a story, especially in action films. Is your plot linear, non-linear or avariant? Classic examples of unconventional plotting include “Memento”, “Reservoir Dogs” and “Run Lola Run”. Plot also relates to structure, the most common being the Aristotelian three act structure. Is there a clear concept or story idea, which is more specific than a theme? Good versus evil isn’t a story concept.  Is there a well defined central/main character with a clear motivation, goal, a dilemma and obstacles. One way to enhance your plotting is to consider what is the worse case scenario if your main character doesn’t achieve their goal. The ultimate failure to achieve a goal is death.

Subplots are secondary or tertiary storylines. Some readers have complained that, because a writer hasn’t really found their story, some subplots are actually more intriguing than the main plot. It happens in unpolished scripts. Even to me! Another problem I recently grappled with is my choice of main character to drive the plot. In the end I switched the boy to a girl (literally not surgically) and everything fell into  place.

FINDING YOUR VOICE

These are the less tangible qualities that define you as a writer. Jen Grisanti claims that many newer writers lack a distinct voice which distinguishes them from other writers.

This is a difficult process of self exploration. It means that we need to delve deeper into our psyches than ever before. She made us define a critical or life changing incident where the rug was pulled from under our feet and we are forced to deal with a new reality. Sound familiar? In doing so, we help shape our characters which are products of our creativity and therefore ourselves. Imagine placing your profile on a social website. Think of how you would describe your personality? What are your likes and dislikes? What do you value most in your relationships with other people? Certain patterns will emerge which define you as an individual. Are you easy going? Wound up tight? Chatty? Pensive? Conventional? Alternative? Think about how a producer might discuss what qualities you possess as a writer. If a project is greenlit and a producer is looking for a writer and they say “This project is perfect for xxxx (insert your name)”, it’s because of your voice.

Part of finding your voice involves common themes in the stories we like to tell. Are we animal lovers? Philanthropists? Comedians? Feminists? Optimists? Cynical? Interested in human suffering? Are your characters strong, successful people? Are you strong and successful or do you aspire to be? Are characters underdogs? What is their disposition? Happy? Smarmy? Cheerful? Quirks?

Finding your story and finding your voice is rather like wanting a quick definition of the meaning of life. The only way to find it is to keep searching. And the search lies in the writing. So what are you waiting for?

Our lives are busy, we move from one activity to the next without a break. We know we need to eat better and get more sleep but we rarely think about taking care of our voice. All the hustle-bustle of our daily lives also affects our voice. So, what can we do to help maintain our voice? Below are a few things we should do everyday, whether our voice (or throat) is bothering us or not!

1) Drink plenty of water! This is good for your whole body. Hydration helps you feel better but it also helps your voice work better. It is recommended that a person drink between 48 and 64 ounces each day.

2) Try to reduce or eliminate caffeine…this is a tough one as everyone loves their morning coffee but caffeine actually pulls water out of your system (yes your vocal cords too) which can be troublesome for your voice.

3) Don’t shout. If you want to talk to someone in another room actually walk to the other room and talk to them. Limit shouting at sporting events…waive signs or pom-pons, bring whistles or other noise makers. Remember they probably can’t hear you anyway (especially if the game is on TV) so don’t hurt your voice shouting your support. You being there is great support in itself!

4) Rest your voice. If your voice is bothering you take a break from talking. Send a quick e-mail rather than talking to the person, send a quick text rather than calling. Think of other ways you can give your voice a break throughout the day!

If your voice has been bothering you please see a specialist. If you need to take frequent breaths while talking, your voice sounds harsh, breathy or hoarse, if your volume goes down while you are talking, if you have an uncomfortable feeing in your throat, etc. These may be indicators of a voice problem. As with any problem early identification and treatment is important to correcting the vocal problem. There are two specialists you can see regarding your voice. An ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat) will be able to medically assess your voice to determine if there is a problem. They have two courses of action:

1) Treat the problem medically with possible follow-up speech therapy
2) Refer to a Speech Pathologist in lieu of medical treatment

A Speech Pathologist will train you on proper ways to use your voice. They will teach you exercises and behaviors that help take care of your voice and avoid future problems. They have a wealth of knowledge to help you have a happy, healthy voice!

No, I’m not back – I’m here to tell you why I’m not back, and what’s happened since I last posted over two months ago. I started to feel increasingly shaky and anxious over the week before I went back to Uni Town – I spent a lot of time mousing around P’s house, small and scared and trying not to be, trying to work. I worried P a lot when I admitted that it was willpower and not just a lack of appetite that stopped me from eating, one really fun evening, that. Then we went back up to Uni Town – several hundred miles away from one another. He had his life, I had mine, such as it was, but I felt very much like I was starting over. Very few friendships from first year were ones I wished to maintain, my housemates were all new, and I was back in the first year with a whole new year group. Then I came down with the fresher’s flu and missed a week of classes. I was feeling lonely and unattractive and stupid and fragile and out of place in fundamental ways; feelings I could hardly describe. I was waking up in a panic before seven most nights, hardly sleeping inbetweenwhiles, tightly sprung and weird and paranoid, and everyone could see it. P and I arranged for me to come down for the weekend but I was dreading it, I was so nervous, and I wasn’t entirely sure he sounded like he really wanted me there – which I guess was all down to nerves on his part too, his continuing insecurity about whether this was a relationship he really wanted (to be fair he was having to text me three times a day to check I was actually eating anything, I was in something of a state about, well, everything, really).

So I went to see him, and we were a bit subdued at first but then we went out for dinner and it was lovely. I felt secure and happy and beautiful and we had a lovely evening, wandering back through the city at night which was beautiful, stopping for the strongest (and one of the nicest) cider I have ever tasted, and we went back to his… and then I woke up at six, lay there for hours tossing and turning, in a strange mood, and P woke up and I just felt worse and worse until we had some stupid argument which was all based around him wanting me to give my honest opinion on something and me being quite unable to do so, and then we started to talk about that. I remember saying that I honestly couldn’t see any way out of how I was feeling at that time, and I didn’t think I could take it any more, and he asked me what did I mean by that, and I know what we were both thinking, and I simply couldn’t give any kind of an answer, because I would have either been lying to make us both feel better (and knowing it) or telling the horrifying truth.

The thing about how I was feeling by this point was that usually in the past my depression has been fairly passive – it’s taken it out of me, left me completely uncaring. This was an overriding sense of panic that had been going on for weeks and wasn’t really familiar, at least not in the long term. So it was a fair point to moot that maybe we were making one another worse – and my reply, that yes, maybe we were, rather sealed the deal. We talked about it, batted the idea back and forth for a few hours, but it was a given from that point. So a cousin of mine, to whom I’m fairly close, collected me from P’s, and I went to hers and cried a lot, and got on the train back to Uni Town the next day, and spent a week trying to spend as little time as possible on my own, talking to a lot of people and praying a lot and just doing my best to be OK and pull myself together. And when I say praying a lot, I really do mean it. I think God really dragged me out of this one, held me up when I couldn’t do it myself. I started to believe in God this time last year, but I think I’d been scared off, and then P encouraged me to rethink the matter, and I got to university and He became more important to me again. So I spent much of that week just praying – for myself, for P, that I could just keep going.

And then I went home for the weekend and it became increasingly obvious that how I was feeling had very little to do with P and everything to do with my continued complete lack of self-esteem, my loathing for myself and my place in my life and everything, really. I went for a walk with them on the Saturday morning and found myself sobbing in a field in the middle of nowhere because everything was so beautiful and because I hated myself and because I could finally see why that was the case. If you’re bullied all through school, if you can’t trust your friends in your formative years to be your friends from one minute to the next or to stand up for you when everyone else is doing their best to make you feel like the smallest and lowliest thing in existence; if you react against that by fighting the cliche and becoming the hard-drinking baby whore, the darling of the seedier, sadder side of the school over the road from the one you went to, but never truly liked for who you are, if you allow all of that to let you get into poisonous friendships where you are treated with a total lack of respect or dignity because you allow yourself to be walked over without expecting anything in return, if you judge yourself as either a nerd or a slut and feel the full force of those words used against you by yourself every day of your life, if you can’t see any of the good about you, then you’ll go on to have encounters like, well, you all know who I mean when I say ‘T’, you’ll go onto university and take a while to trust that the ‘cool’ people like you and so you’ll never quite let them in, and so it goes on, such that even when you are in actual fact no longer the socially isolated school pariah, nor the teenage binge-drinking whore, when you have friends who respect you, and you act in a way that deserves their love and respect, when you have (or had) a loving and supportive boyfriend, all of that is still going to have affected you, and it’s no surprise that actually you’ve spent years and years getting depressed on and off, but mainly on, recognisably since you were a small child but more and more up until this point.

So this was the breaking point I had been so scared of, and instead of holding a knife to my wrists or staring at the view stretching for metres below me, thank goodness I was standing in a field screaming and sobbing in a field with my parents piecing it all together frantically. I essentially didn’t stop crying for the next few days at all and it was rapidly obvious that I wasn’t going back to Uni Town any time soon. I found myself a counsellor, Rob, who was brilliant. I saw him that Tuesday, and again that Friday, and then every Friday after that for a few weeks, but not even half as long as I expected. I guess because I’d already figured out how I’d got to where I was: a combination of my relationship to my family; my originally-justifiable inability to truly trust my friends; the thoughts about myself that I’d only had reinforced throughout my life – that I was fundamentally unlikeable and only worthwhile if I had something to give – intelligence, my body, friendship above and beyond the call of duty, whatever it was; and the resulting feeling that I had no right to force my emotions upon anyone else, such that I couldn’t feel angry or show anger, I couldn’t have opinions, I could hardly cry, and my recourse was then to turn all those feelings inwards upon myself, rendering me, time and again, absolutely mute. I’d got to that point, and I could see what I had to change, I just needed some help to know how to do it, and Rob more than provided that. A new way of looking at myself and the situations I encountered. Whilst I was at home I was sent so many supportive messages from friends – especially church friends. Recommendations of Bible passages and assurances of prayer from many people, and I can’t thank them enough for that, because I feel that it really made a difference.

For me I can’t imagine how it could get worse; I know that for millions of others it gets far worse, that what is at most four or five years of this hopelessly unbalanced fight is nothing compared to the decades that many go through, that whatever effect it may have had upon my choices and my degree – who knows, I might actually be doing Medicine now or at Cambridge or something, but I’m not, and that is how it is – that there are other people out there who cannot work at all, who will never be able to have and care for their own children, who will perhaps never leave their parental home. There are others who never make it out of teenagerhood or young adulthood, there are people who do terrible things as a direct consequence of depression. I know I’ve got off lightly, but it was bad enough, more than.

I know this entry might seem like it’s a little P-centric – it certainly reads as if I had a bad break-up experience and decided to chalk it down to depression rather than heartbreak as that seems a little more justified. Believe me when I say that yes, I am happy to accept that our break-up was a catalyst for what came next, but a catalyst is all it was. I’d felt the build-up to this last crisis, in the same way that I’ve seen ever other big crisis coming from days away, before we broke up. Perhaps it would have happened that weekend if he hadn’t broken up with me instead. It was a complete breakdown, a shaking loose of everything that troubled me, the feeling, finally, that it made total narrative sense that I should feel like I did because of the experiences I’d had, of course you’d get depressed and have very little self-esteem and all the rest of it – but that whatever had happened to me in the past had no reason and no right to keep affecting me becuase in all other ways I’d made it clear – in the eyes of the world I was a talented, well-balanced young woman, pretty and agreeable and a good friend and a good person, and I had no reason to see myself any differently.

And so I have spent the last few weeks learning to do so. I’ve hugely cut down on my caffeine intake, I never did go in for the big break-up binge, the crazy nights, promiscuity, and probable smoking relapse, that I would have previously predicted for myself. I didn’t turn to the old friend I’d expected to for rebound sex with no strings, nor did I take the rebound fling when it was offered elsewhere. I did all the right things instead. I go to the gym regularly, I get up early and I go to bed reasonably early, most nights. I go out with friends, I go to church, I pray lots, and I feel closer to God and like a better person than ever before. I am trying to live the ‘right’ life, and loving it. I’ve got a lot more musically involved. I got into the Orchestra and the Chamber Choir here, no trouble at all. I’m expanding my friendship groups and having the confidence to accept invitations and to make suggestions and invitations of my own. I am eating three meals a day – possibly a little more than I should but I’m making up for it with the exercise and more importantly I’m not worrying too much about it. I am a changed person – I feel it, and more tellingly, everyone around me remarks upon it surprisingly often. I am one of the success stories. I don’t feel now that if I made a new acquaintance I would have to explain myself and my past in the way I might have used to after a certain degree of friendship had been reached. ‘I was ill in my first year, so I’m retaking some modules’, I’ll say, if asked why I’m doing what I’m doing. Or, if I feel it doesn’t matter, I’ll say that I am either a first- or a second-year, depending on context (yes, I’ve lived here for a while, or yes, I’ll be here in three years’ time). And if asked what kind of ill, I’ll say ‘it doesn’t matter now’ or something, and change the subject, or ‘oh, you know how it is’, and hope that either they do and it doesn’t matter to them either, or they absolutely don’t but wouldn’t like to ask. Because yes, it’s shaped how I got here, and it’s shaped who I am, but it absolutely does not affect what happens next.

This is a mammoth post. Here’s fervently hoping and praying it really is the last one, this time. I’m not sure what else needs saying about who I am, who I was, and how I got to this point. I’d like to say, one last time, that for me, a lot of the answer was in God, and that a year ago that’s something I would have never thought I’d say. And that I like being a grown-up – and perhaps this was the final, massive leap I needed to make, to take responsibility for myself. But to take responsibility for myself, I had to love rather than loathe myself, and I do. Fingers crossed, this is it. Best wishes.

Skype, with its spinout from eBay (s EBAY) complete and its legal troubles with founders Niklas Zennstrom and Janus Friis settled, is looking to the future, where it wants to become a ubiquitous real-time communications platform. And that means thinking about the next-generation Skype architecture and hiring a lot of smart people, CEO Josh Silverman said in a conversation earlier today. “We are looking to hire engineers,” he said. “Especially those who want to live in Estonia.” In addition, the company is planning to ramp up its Stockholm (Sweden) office. “We are going to be ramping our presence in the Bay Area as well,” Silverman said. Skype currently has 700 employees and wants to hire engineers and product managers to help it expand as it seeks to transform itself from just a voice-based service to a multi-feature real-time communications platform.

“While Europe is going to remain our base, California is going to be a big presence for us,” Silverman said. Skype recently added SIP Guru Jonathan Rosenberg as its chief technology strategist, and he is based in the San Francisco Bay Area. The company had built up a substantial team in the Bay Area over the past few months as it was trying to build a route around the JoltID technology. With that need gone, the company now has enough engineering talent to start transforming itself into a platform.

“We want Skype to be embedded in more and more devices, and we want to offer our APIs for developers to embed into their applications,” Silverman said. That is going to be a tough sell considering the company’s history of throwing its developers under the bus, the most recent example being the Skype Extras disaster. Silverman was candid enough to admit that the Skype Extras program wasn’t working. “APIs were hard and the extras-software uptake was low, and it is important for us to have a great platform that is built for success,” he said. “So starting off a bad platform wasn’t a good idea.”

When I pressed Silverman on the embedded ambitions, he outlined a future where Skype would be embedded in connected game consoles, televisions and video phones. Skype could be embedded into different software offerings as well. The company wants to be a big player in the enterprise, but knows that it can’t do it all by itself. “We need to open up our platform in order to expand it,” he said, “Our aspiration is ubiquity.”

Silverman declined to offer any specific dates (and details) on when Skype will launch a platform for others to leverage. One thing is for sure, Skype can pose a serious challenge to some of the upstarts such as Ribbit, TringMe and Twilio that are all trying to make it easy for application developers to embed voice-related functionality into their offerings. Skype’s ubiquity — over 500 million subscribers — makes it a fearsome agent of change in the Internet-based communications arena. (Related post: “How Skype Can Quickly and Easily Become a Social Network (and Clean Facebook’s Clock))

Toward the end of our conversation, I asked Silverman about the next generation of Skype architecture, and he said the company was working on it. “It will work with SIP; it will have P2P, but we won’t come to it with a religion,” he said. And that includes offering Skype via a browser and making it even more savvy about video conferencing.

Photo of Josh Silverman courtesy of Phil Wolf via Flickr. Skype desktop photo courtesy of IPVEO.

“Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you I had no control over.”

Goose bums? Here’s one more inspiring statement Neil Gaiman made that’s ever so true:

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

Hmm, I like this author already and I can’t get enough of his goosebummed love quotes. Now, anyone fancy a love letter?

“If I never met you, I wouldn’t like you. If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t love you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t miss you. But I did, I do, and I will.”

Now, 1 more book in my queue for this author: The day I swapped my dad for two goldfish. What on earth will happen when a little girl is willing to swapp anything for her bestfriend’s goldfish, even her father. It’s a book for children, how I wished I’ve read this when I was eight.

“Love me when I least deserve it, because that’s when I really need it.”

“You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.”

He paints pictures with his words, read on- yet another short story:
Cinnamon was a princess, a long time ago, in a small hot country, where everything was very old. Her eyes were pearls, which gave her great beauty, but meant she was blind. Her world was the colour of pearls: pale white and pink, and softly glowing.

“Love comes when manipulation stops; when you think more about the other person than about his or her reactions to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be vulnerable.”

No wonder he wishes to stop wining awards for a day and just enjoy a day in his life like any other. Swell isn’t it, but I guess that’s his source of fuel – the everyday life.