Jeff Paul

I'm beggining to learn who i am without yet daring to do that which i want.

This is where we're supposed to say a few words about ourselves?

Okay. I turned 38 on this very day. Obviously, for anyone reading this outside of the present twenty four hour cycle, I am lying to you through my back teeth.

Crying out loud, I have no idea what on earth to write here. Let me see. I was born within close proximity of my mother on a september day far too long ago. I hated the day i was born, but not because of the usual self hating reasons. I simply hated the fact i was born in the morning whereas my sister was born four years later at a time which was beyond my usual bed time.
We weren't twins.

Although english born and bred, I spent a number of years as a child in what was then West Germany, my father being a 'shool master', as he likes to frequently announce. Looking back, those were probably the best years of my life to date. I hated the initial move away from northern England. I missed my family, i missed my friends. Most of all, I missed the crumbly texture of cheshire cheese and the pure excellence in cookery that was a packet of salt and vinegar crisps.

I believe my life in rural germany has tended to shape how i feel about life. I have pangs of wanderlust regularly. The fact I dont act upon them is something which i berate myself for on a regular basis.

I returned to yorkshire, bedding down at my great aunt's home alongside my uncle who also resided there. It was an unusual arrangement, but one which seemed to suit me. Okay, the regime there was exceptionally lax and there are times i look back and wish there had been more discipline, but to stay in Germany, a place in which i had quite clearly failed in my education, might have been even more disastrous.

I helped care for my great aunt for a number of years after she contracted diabetes and had broken her hip in a fall on the outside steps. I say helped, but in all reality, mine was purely the duty of being there to help prepare her food and ensure she had the right amount of pills. My uncle, her nephiew, used to enjoy the extravagance of generosity. He loved to see someone smile. Every week he would rush home with shopping. Sweat dripping off his forehead he used to constantly be frustrated when she perceived me as her blue eyed boy. Of course he had no jealousy, as he has always been exceptionally close to me, but he simply craved a little reciprocation at all he did. I think possibly, his age and his outward confidence allied to my early years shyness made me the good one and him the boisterous bad one. In retrospect, there must have been days when it affected his morale.

Life after that was a pretty non event. I moved home, sharing with my uncle and allowed wanderlust to permeate my mind day after day, whilst never achieving that goal of actually throwing a bag over my shoulder and daring to take the risks i cherished within my mind.

I worked in administration for a while, a job which i was extremely competent in, but which was simply not me. I existed for too long, eventually succumbing to stress and depression.

That was me until a couple of years ago. I pretty much had to start believing in myself. I made a mental list of things i wish to do. One of which was to dare to make a mental wish list and believe that i was deserving.

Anyone sparing the time to read this, please do not think that i am anything but someone who now sees the world as i once did as a child in those heady days of village life in West Germany. I pretty much write for myself, but now love the company of others. I smile when the sun comes out and realise that behind every cloudy brooding overcast sky there is the light. It is merely hidden for a few hours. Most importantly, I now think of the past as something which moulded me, for all my failures and successes into the person who never takes life for granted but who now lives. Existence? you can have it.

Id love to mention Fawn Nichole who asked me to take a look at this site. She makes me smile.