Observation: humans and their foibles

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Do nice Girls Go Boxing? (Well, I think so)

All Girls Out There Please Listen Up! I have some wisdom to share…

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Do you know about the fitness / training regime whereby weight-loss and toning is almost immediate? A two-hour work-out where your body actually changes shape and tones your natural form exactly how you want it to? Add that to the unadulterated chemical-free high and pure pleasure from punching the life out of a bag or smacking a pair of pads held in front of you by a hot dude! And one more thing – any irritable angst / annoying niggle you’ve felt during the day is simultaneously released, pretty much on impact.

Boxing, with circuit training to boot, is where it’s at girls.

AKA: Boxing is the new yoga – no mumbo jumbo, no psycho-babble – we are so over sitting cross-legged and contemplating our pristine and overly exfoliated navels – just let it out and vent!

What a marvellous way to end a day at work – whether you work at home (a sanity boost for freelancers) or at the office, just let it all out. (Also, FYI, not a bad idea to visualise someone’s face who has irritated you in your working day – those jabs are SO much more powerful when you do this!!).

Since discovering boxing as a twice/thrice weekly 2-hour session, I have found myself to be calmer, less uptight, a friendlier person (on the roads and to my family) and sleep is definitely deeper.

Boxing is of course hugely positive in boosting a girl’s confidence and her self-defense reactions.

No complaints either from being in extreme proximity to (straight) sweaty, well-built alpha males (being the minority sex in class is fabulous too, and a rarity at a yoga or ‘legs, bums, blah blah’ class at the gym).

Forget psychoanalysis, psycho-babble, self-help; get a bag, some gloves, don’t forget the wrist straps, and practice that jab.

Q: How did I get into boxing?

A: Always have had a ‘lock’ at the back of my shoulder, literally behind my heart; pain, but not excruciating – hauntingly dormant. In times of stress and tension, it spoke out in pain, almost like my subconscious in times of angst. After years of massage, yoga, swimming, jogging, acupuncture, you name it I have tried it to release the pain, it was not until I visited an Osteopath (Byron Spiers) who, after two sessions of trying to snap and twist my body, load it with needles, was professional, candid and succinct.

His diagnosis: the complaint was not treatable with any form of massage or indeed my beloved yoga, and not to spend any more money or time on these therapies – ‘Juliet you just need to let it all out and take up high impact exercise’.

I spent a month researching a host of local (and not so local) boxing schools. I finally found All Stars, Harrow Road. A truly wonderful bunch of guys run the joint, take an interest in all the students and are making their voice heard for the 2010 Olympics.  Skipping, weights, mat-work, circuit training also thrown in.

Let your anger out and forget the OM-ing.

In this world of ipods and laptops, reality TV and box-sets, it so refreshing to have social interaction and physical contact during recreational sport.

A full work-out; for the mind, the body, and the soul. Euphoria immediately afterwards.

1. Physical change – Noticeable changes to the body in record time, incredible results
2. Utter focus – no time for losing concentration otherwise you get hit!
3. Release and unleashing of tension like no other sport (it personally healed a ‘lock’ in the back of my shoulder)
4. Many boxing clubs now let women join the classes, as equals (irritating to certain males am sure)
5. Improvement of sleep
6. Inexpensive: just need to buy straps and gloves and that is it, no special footwear required
7. Good for gaining confidence, literally and psychologically, as a woman for self-defense, and good to be surrounded by sweaty (straight) men
8. Great to learn how to perfect your technique, there is an art to perfecting your jabs and improve your style
9. It’s fun!
10. Women Box for Britain! For the first time, women have been invited to box for their country, in the 2012 Olympics.

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Observation: humans and their foibles

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“The Body Never Lies”, Martha Graham

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Is this the adult version of The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole?

(listen to your Prana goddamit!)

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This is a true story; there was something going on, within, and I had no idea what it was. This is not mumbo jumbo. Trust me.

On a balmy morning, mid-week, mid-March and feeling ever so middle-of-the-road, a ‘voice’ was shouting out from inside and forcing me to listen. If you can picture the following: I’m alone, not nuts (yet), it’s intangible, it feels good, I’m sober, not hungry, pretty relaxed and content.

I’m not ranting about DAB radio and my new daily  XFM religion, nor about the whistling kettle (never liked ultra-modern home apps), nor the landline whose ringtone I’ve never got on with, nor my neighbour’s electric drum-kit above my head (no lie).

I took a few breaths, let my system ‘be’ and breathed calmly.

Observation: humans and their foibles

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Did you know that you don’t need to be a teenager to have a crush on a singer-songwriter?

(Well, it was news to me last Tuesday)

On the third Tuesday of the third month of this year, ie. March 16, 2010, something happened. In spite of the fact I am actually blushing as I write this, I have an overwhelming urge to share this. I am about to admit something that makes me cringe like a school girl.

(Hey, I have chosen to bare all and publish a blog in order to do my bit with the zeitgeist and keep up with the Joneses – online and across the globe – N.B., not the Joneses with the B&Q picket fence, ensconced in suburbia).

I got a crush, a real-life teenage crush that had me running around my flat (yes, I am a freelancer in case, heaven forbid, you are not up-to-date with mon blog, mon existence, mon nonsense) and it doesn’t take much for one to go a little nuts when excitement bursts onto the airwaves within the confines of my four walls.

What excitement could possibly be taking place in my kitchen just before 9;10am on Radio 2 on the fairly new Chris Evans show? I was half listening, half making tea and somewhere in the middle of both these halves, was endeavouring to be proactively making a stab at client work. I felt it in my gut. The ‘it’ we long to feel again, that has been diluted over the years, whether through cynicism, becoming a grown-up, or the slow realisation that life is not what Hollywood has thrown down our throats. Take my intense and long crush on Tom Cruise at the age of 14, for example. Say no more…

JR

I looked on my reliable DAB radio screen to see whose voice this angel in human form belonged to. Who was making me react so intensely? The screen said Joshua Radin.

Have you heard his voice and his lyrics? Please check him out and report back.

There was something very much Simon & Garfunkel going on in the air. Silky velvety smooth melodious harmonies. Something in this guy’s tone made me feel dreamy and I was suddenly transported out of the urban kitchen to a tropical destination with nothing to do but chill in a hammock. Also verging on folk actually .

There was a pang in my gut that was reminiscent of the first time I heard Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight. I was 12 at the time. I had fallen in love with a voice. I became so focused that my brain hurt. My tummy also had a pain in it; interestingly, it was a familiar pang. It had been years since I had been emotionally and almost spiritually uplifted, with a complete change of mood, by a musician, however just for a moment, I have to acknowledge my unfailing loyalty to one of the greatest musicians du jour, in my opinion, Nitin Sawhney. Nitin – please don’t think I am being unfaithful to you.

You know what though? I have been accused of being lazy, a little bit of a space cadet, lacking the ability to focus on one thing at a time. Not on this particular morning! I began googling in such a frenzy, it was as though I’d just had a glimpse of the Messiah.

FYI, a lot of Radin’s music features during some of the intense scenes on those addictive TV series Grey’s Anatomy and Scrubs. Those incredible gut-wrenching teary moments in Grey’s that had moved me so much a couple of summers ago were partly down to the music and I hadn’t thought to move from the sofa find out who was singing / had written the lyrics.

In the midst of googling, youtube-ing etc etc, I had found out Josh (we’re familiar now…) was going to be LIVE AND IN MY CITY on April 8th. To fully explain the elation I experienced when I found this out is impossible (I am now the proud owner of two tickets!!). When a girl wants something, she gets it. Simple.

Josh – if you’re reading this, I promise not to stalk you by the stage door at the Shepherds Bush Empire in a couple of weeks.

Feedback is most welcome for those of you who have got to the end of Insight #6 and have graced your ears with Radin’s music.

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All hell has broken loose @ JRPR headquarters!

Tatler April 2010

The latest issue of Tatler, on shelves now, is featuring a piece from the latest collection of fabulous gems designed by the Parisienne who has more than a soupcon of Rajasthan in her soul, Elizabeth de Chambrun.  The ring was hand-made in Jaipur and the quality of the citrine stone is magical.

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The Saffron ring from the Tiger Drops collection, is now available to buy from either Felt or at the Cinnamon Club & Kitchen.

Quick go try it on – utterly divine, and mesmerizing as the stone is so clear. A perfect accessory for those hot summer nights, if only for your dreams.

Observation: humans and their foibles

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“To keep the body in good health is a duty… otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear”, Buddha

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Facing the outside world for the first time at urmm 3:30pm today, I was awoken with the desire to indulge fully and completely with today’s ‘Insight’ and incorporate more of a spiritual tone. Ogling other sapiens at such a late stage on an intermittently sunny / sleety / moody / bright Friday afternoon (still daytime mind you), what struck me was the paramount importance of having a daily ritual – and sticking to it – especially when living the life of a freelancer.

Existing as a freelancer for over six years now, often without a routine if I am not working on an inhouse project or without a morning meeting in the diary, I have often feared for the state of my daily existence on a daily basis! I am secretly confident that many in a similar situation will agree with this.

With both the rise of the laptop and the resignation of so many professionals from corporate life, aka ‘getting out quick’, not forgetting the SJP ‘cool sitting on the bed with laptop’ factor, this lack of daily routine must be rife right now.

I truly believe that a routine is vital. It is vital for the brain to stay alert, to think creatively, to maintain an an existence on an even keel, or as even as is possible. Freelancers out there need to get out of bed at the same time everyday, virtually visualise that they have an office job to go to, and dress as presentably as is possible (without going overboard). It is so easy to cut short the morning ritual and vaguely brush teeth and ‘go’.

Feeling good on the outside HAS to affect the inside. Self-preservation is key and when it slowly slips away, we are swiftly in a damn fine mess.

A routine is in fact fundamental for sanity, for happiness, for consistency, for productivity, for our mental health. We actually like ourselves a lot more when we have routine. For the irreligious amongst us, there is something to be said for customs, traditions and habits. For if anything, they fill a void when loneliness strikes and one just can’t seem to get their day going.

As Buddha said, eons before there were anti-social electronic toys to hide behind, we need to keep our bodies in good health for a clear mind. This is our duty to ourselves (and our long-suffering families and friends).

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Observation: humans & their foibles

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TLC: As vital as breathing……

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I like to think I have someone sussed (in relatively no time at all if I am perfectly honest with you).

Whether it is the way someone holds themselves, the way they dress, the way they shake hands, the tone of their voice, how they make – or don’t make – eye contact, just like a horse my blinkered assumptions leave no room for manoeuvring.

Loath as I am to over-dramatise on humans and their strange nuances, is it just me or does everyone assume everything about another human within a nano-second of meeting them? Actually, forget meeting them, merely spotting them for the first time?

Take the lady I met on the street this afternoon, standing outside her tiny garden centre. She looked as though the weight of the world was perched atop her shoulders.  Just something that was both gut-wrenching to witness and simultaneously, made the pit of my tummy ache to find out more.

Her eyes had a hardness and sadness, and her body seemed weathered and unloved. Why did she look so much older than were most surely her years? Something had burdened her, worn her down, gradually leaving her hollow to the core and I needed to speak to her.  I just wasn’t going to do the spineless British thing and walk away and pretend nothing much was happening.

Curiously, approaching Tessa seemed like the simplest thing to do in the world. She was warm and open and didn’t seem to mind the intrusion; rather welcomed it in fact. As soon as I patted her incredibly amicable dog, she looked up and the sadness that was veiling her eyes only a moment ago, lifted with such immediacy I was spellbound.

All at once, she became animated and girly, youthful and chatty.

There is a lump in my throat and my voice wobbles as we say goodbye.

So many of us, sharing the same space, each with zillions of never-ending thoughts, needs, desires – fulfilled and unfulfilled.

Like all of us, Tessa needed a little tender loving care and attention.

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Film Review

Courtesy of my fabulous friend and See Film First, I found myself at the screening of The Blind Side last night.  The new film featuring Sandra Bullock, up for an Oscar and already awarded the Golden Globe Award for Best Actress, is based on a true story about Michael Oher who became a top American footballer.

Knowing nada about the sport and not giving this film priority on my increasingly expanding to-do movie list, I feared the schmultz of all schmultz and a lot of yankee saccharine blah blah. And you know what, Bullock’s performance is sheer empathy; she is slick and her acting is refined and boy does she work it in head-to-toe glitz, slap and those excessive highlights.

Armed with unadulterated British cynicism from the opening scene, this was thankfully dispersed within seconds. Throughout, I observed a dignity in the manner in which the film succinctly portrays two sides of Memphis, the extremely privileged and those who have nothing at all, including no bed on which to sleep each night. Oher’s mother is a crack addict and alcoholic with tons of children, all of whom have been sent to foster homes.

Bullock plays Leigh Ann Tuohy, Michael’s personal Mother Teresa. By rescuing him from the direness that has been his daily reality until the age of 18, she and her family benefit from taking him in, the private Christian school benefits, her fake and rich best friends get an earful from her and the film emerges polished, humane and however predictable, it has to be watched through.

The role of Leigh Ann’s son is played by Jae Head who fills the screen; his brotherly bonding with Michael is credible, the camera adores him, he is savvy, cute and someone please stop his adult teeth coming through – they are divine as they are…!

I was totally immersed, my face was covered in tears and I left the cinema feeling uplifted. Thought I didn’t ‘do’ feel good movies…..!