Positive Mental Attitude

It's been an interesting few weeks for me. I've caught up with some friends I've not seen for a while, nearly been run over and been disappointed and through it all (bar 1 day) have managed to keep my upbeat attitude.

After a very busy week I had the worst day with ME than I have had for a long time. I just let it have me for the day curling into a ball and telling the outside world to go to hell. By the evening I still felt awful and had so much going through my mind that I decided to write out. I considered blogging it but I found that some things are just too personal. I kept it though, I thought I might revisit what I found when I feel ready for it.

The next day I felt ready to face the outside world again and thought I was doing much better. Apparently I was not as with it as I thought because I walked out in front of a car! Luckily the driver was more alert than I was and managed to stop in time to just run over my toe. At this point I could have been dismayed and gone down the spiral of what could have happened but instead I just thought how lucky I was that it hadn't been worse and then moved on.

A week ago I received another blow. I have been turned down for the teacher training course I applied for in Scotland. As I read the news I thought I would be overwhelmed with the downer of failure. I wasn't. My mind automatically started thinking of alternatives and within 15 minutes I had found a course somewhere else and applied for it.

This new positive attitude is a strange animal that I have very little experience of. My entire life plan has been altered and I'm still feeling positive. I can make anything work. Whatever happens I know I can cope with it and find something else to aim for.

Well thats different

Well I guess it's that time of year again. This year it feels a little different. At the moment I'm really trying to make sense of how I feel about a lot of things. I made some decisions this year, decisions I feel I've been leading up to for a while. I felt I'd come a long way last October, when on my birthday I spouted about my journey and how I felt so much better and so on. I guess I did at the time feel a little smug, like I had made this big leap forward, like that was the destination.

Obviously I know how that ends, there is no destination just the long path we walk through until we can't walk anymore. That path can be frightening or boring, happy, sad or middling, that part is up to the traveller I guess. This last year has had its ups and downs and many moments where I have felt that I am achieving nothing. I have been silent and I have not been able to shut up, I have been really lonely for the first time, I have felt connected and disconnected.

Importantly I have made some big decisions about what I want and taken steps to get there. I have looked closely at what I don't want and was a little surprised at what I found there. Now, as christmas nears and brings with it the end of another year my thoughts have settled on what I do want and I was surprised. Not really surprised by what is in there but how I feel about it.

I have been cynical for so long, shutting out the things I used to want. Five years ago I opened up the possibility of something that I loved to be a part of my life. In taking that step I didn't realize what else I would receive and what other possibilities would open along the way. I found real friends who I feel I'll be friends with for the rest of my life and I found that the person I am is not that bad.

I am looking at what I want with hope. A feeling I wasn't sure I still had. It's difficult to explain but a long time ago I broke and it took a lot to put myself back together. I made myself a new life but I still felt broken. I shied away from the things I had wanted, deciding I couldn't have them anymore. I have been slowly picking up the things I left and now I want them all back. I am not the same as I was back then but what I want hasn't changed and thats ok because I'm better able to deal with them now. More importantly I feel like I deserve them. And you have no idea how odd that feels.

The only problem is my whole attitude has made a turn for the romantic, which has not happened for a very long time. I have been lusty, obsessive, infatuated but not romantic. I'm not sure what to do with this. I am in exactly the position to be swept off my feet, but there is nobody around to do the sweeping...

Finally done it

So the primary teaching course application is all done and sent. It is beyond my meddling and procrastination and in the hands of those in the know. I spent a long time worrying and trying to think through every possible obstacle and in the end I just bit the bullet.

I definitely want to teach, that has never been the problem. I decided I wanted to move at the same time and it was that that worried me. I jumped back and forth about where I was applying to, my heart pulling me one way and my head telling me it was not sensible. I went for my heart in the end with the optimistic theory that all the issues could be sorted.

Now I've done it I feel relieved. Give it a couple of weeks and I'll be worried again but for now I'm good.

By Firelight

I feel the leaves crackle beneath my feet as I look up and find you

haloed in fire light. Your effervescent glow in the raging bonfire

fills me with a heat not known by mere flickering flame.

The light catches your hair as the soft tendrils dance

in the light breeze of the chilled evening.

The sun has set behind me, the last vestiges of day

have finally given up its steely grasp on the expectant revellers.

They mill about the firelight like moths drawn to its warm embrace.

I stand clear in the newly formed shadow watching you dance

around the crowd capturing all those you look upon

and wonder when it was that you first seized my heart and clamped

it in your fist. A tight embrace I would never relinquish.

Darkness takes the party as the smell of burning permeates the air,

the firelight and you are the only barriers to the cold night that

seeps in around our small gathering. Groups huddle protectively

both anxious and enthralled by evening’s soft kiss on their cheek

the tender stroke of its cold fingers down their necks

and along fragile arms folded across chests.

A shiver passes through your body though you do not flinch,

smiling into the encroaching darkness in anticipation

of further delights offered only in dark hours.

The sky explodes into life illuminating the grounds once more,

touching all the faces with hues of green and red.

You see my face illuminated in man-made stars destined to burn out in a heartbeat.

Your eyes penetrate my being and send the cacophony of many fireworks

skittering to the back of my mind. Our breath holds us,

sentinels watching the world catch light and burn around us.

Reflected in your eyes I see myself rooted as the light of the world

rains down on me and for a moment it is beautiful.

Then I fade again to nothing the stars gone out, too fierce to linger.

The leaves crackle beneath my feet as I turn back to the darkness.

The silent room

So the hushed silence from my end of the virtual room has not gone unnoticed by myself. I battened down the hatches and hunkered in for some silent time and I am not sure why.

My birthday came and went very uneventfully. My birthdays always tend to be quiet but this year was even more low key. Not that I didn't do anything just that it was done in dribs and drabs as though my mind couldn't handle more than one person at a time. It was exactly what I felt like doing but it felt like a non-event.

I visited my parents and started my volunteer work in a school, both of which are good things. My life isn't hideous, I'm plodding along but somethings not right.

I haven't written in a while and it's been a month since I blogged last. After the roller coaster my life has been the past two years I have plateaued and it doesn't feel right. There is nothing wrong that I can put my finger on but I have a niggling feeling.

hmmm...

Negativity is bad for your health

So this week I have mostly been feeling awful. I have had a constant headache and felt like I was coming down with something really nasty. General feeling sorry for myself ensued until thursday I was forced out of my house by unpleasant financial issues which should not have happened.

I was so angry and frustrated it fueled my ill ass getting into town to have a go at a few people and try and sort it. I know I looked awful, but I didn't care, I was being taken for a ride and I wasn't having it. When I got back I was tired but my headache had eased.

Friday I got up feeling positive and my headache had gone. It made me wonder whether I was feeling negative because I was ill or feeling ill because I was being negative. I guess it's a chicken and egg scenario. Either way they both disappeared at the same time.

Black and White - Peeping at the surface

So the facts are:

The day after I had the good news I had a school to volunteer in I had some bad news. I got made redundant. Now those of you who have followed my blog for a while will be a little confused as I had only just started the job. After 4 weeks of working in a job I didn't hate they get rid of me. So I am back on the unemployed pile, forced to jump through the government hoops to get money that, lets face it, even a monkey couldn't live on!

I think what made it worse was that my tv had broke the week before and I had borrowed money from my parents to buy a new one with the promise to pay it back quickly out of my new wages. Oops! so now I'm poor again with the added guilt that I owe money. How annoying!

Second Hiccup came later in the week. I decided that I wanted to move to Scotland. I'd lived in Scotland for a while when I was younger but had not been ready to be that far away from my family. I really loved it though and think it's now time for the change. I figured I may as well do my teacher training there rather than have to wait until I'm done before moving up there.

So I was going through my study options when I glanced at the entry requirements. In England I have all the grades necessary but apparently not so for Scotland! If I want to teach there I need to re-sit a GCSE I thought I was done with 11 years ago.

After a bit of ranting, followed by disbelief I had to weigh my options. If I really wanted to teach in Scotland then I would need to swallow my pride and re-take the damn GCSE. So I did.

The problem was that I was already booked on a textile course that I was really looking forward to. With my recent poverty I could not justify paying out a second lot of money on a course so I did the mature, adult thing and cancelled the textile course and instead booked on my GCSE course. :-(

It felt like the first of many sacrifices I was going to have to make to have a stable adult life that didn't suck. I guess with this and the redundancy I was visited by what my blogging friend calls the Self Pity Gnome. No worries though I sent him packing as is only right and have gone back to blindly pushing on ignoring any niggling doubts I have.

On the positive side my new course is on an afternoon which I could not have made if I was still working, so perhaps my redundancy was meant to be?

Sewing With My Grandmother

The crisp, clean piece of white cloth was handed to me with quiet reverence. I let it pass through my hands feeling its properties, the starched stiffness of a new project barely embarked on. Around the edges it was finished with lace trim much softer than the main fabric, delicate to the touch. The sensual rub of the lace pattern delicately dancing across my fingertips.

To one corner I noticed the transferred design boldly infringing on the stark perfection of the fabric. The bold blue lines seemed clumsy and intrusive against the elegance of the lace. Remembering my purpose I looked up to my grandmother.

Her face was lit half with amusement and half with impatience as she held out two rings in her hands waiting for me to take them. I took the white one first. The cold hard plastic was strange to the touch, its outer edge concave. I carefully placed the ring beneath the fabric meticulously lining it up so the transfer was in the centre.

I reached for the second ring. It was dusky peach in colour and completely unlike the first. It had the consistency of rubber, flopping comically in my hand. I noticed with some confusion that there was a small brass ring attached to its side glinting slightly in the sun filtering through the lacy net curtains.

I pushed the second ring over the first as I had been shown, trying to keep the material taut. It was messily done and I had to straighten it out before my grandmother noticed the imperfect ripples over the fabric. I lifted it to the light with my chubby childhood fingers marvelling at my success in the first task, which would one day enable me to create masterpieces like my grandmothers.

My hand dropped and I started to fidget on the sofa, the soft sheen navy fabric clinging to my legs in the warmth of the room. I fingered the space next to me where the large peacock stared back out at me through its fabric prison.

My stomach lurched as the lesson began.

Growing pains

Hey, it's been a week already and no blog. I guess I didn't know where to start or what to say or what to leave out. Some things I guess are difficult to convey in black and white. Like I've said before, for someone who perpetually sticks their head in the sand, it is always scary to see the contents of ones life in print. It's so final.

I went to see Julie and Julia tonight. I wasn't expecting much. I viewed it as my indulgence, a fluff movie about cookery and I thought it's just what I needed. It was more than just a sickly sweet film about food. Something really struck a chord with me. The modern part of the story is about a woman who is stuck. She's a failed writer who is working a thankless desk job. In an attempt to give herself focus she decides to cook everything in a well known cookbook in a year and blog about it.

It got me thinking about blogs and life in general. I am no longer stuck, I have a plan which I'm following, overcoming each obstacle as it arrives. I am working towards a goal. I am no longer directionless. But am I happy?

I guess the answer is not really. I have the beginnings of an actual life again, I have plans that will make my life ok. Is it what I really want to be doing? Probably not, but who really does what they actually want? My plans push me into adulthood where dreams are shelved for more practical endeavors. It is a place where second choice is really not that bad. I try to get excited about my new adult life but I guess it alludes me. How I wish I could.

Because in the end second best should be good enough, some people don't even get that. They slave away at jobs they hate just to get by. Why should I be any different? Dreams are only dreams because they are ideals when in the end real life is about compromise.

And still I haven't actually told you what is going on with me in the real world. Instead I rattled on about the world in my head and never had to confirm in print words I'd rather bury in the sand as far from my head as possible.

Dickensian Boy

Lit by the harsh florescent light
A smile thins his lips
momentarily disturbing the route
of a glinting spoon piled
with cereal.

A bowl balances the scene
jauntily held 
in statement more than purpose.

He glides into the classroom 
to an open desk
in simulated nonchalance,
discarding the bowl noiselessly 
on the Formica surface.

An exhibit in a freak show
created to obscure
a mundane life.

Out of our time he floats among us
long enough 
to assert his oddball brilliance
without a hint of irony 
in his sunken eyes and glib persona.

He scries oratory delights on 
crinkled scraps of paper tied together
with a blue shoelace.

He vanishes when not in our midst,
delving the depths of obscurity,
hands buried in patched pockets
of a gentleman’s blazer.
Hunched against the tide of modernity.

An over intellectualized ghost 
of a personality hiding behind 
his clever words and witty rhetoric.

This poem is based on a purely fictional character. Any resemblance to a person living or dead is coincidental and unintended!!

Spot the difference for those following Cherrypicker. Better worse or the same?

Back to School

So today, after a seven week wait, I finally went into the junior school that had agreed to see me about volunteering.  Strangely I didn't feel nervous at all.  I walked into the school and knew that I would be comfortable there.  I had spent time worrying over the summer that just because I wanted to teach that it didn't mean I'd be any good at it.  I had no idea how I would feel being in a school again.

I'm sure now that if I decide to teach that I'll be good at it.  It's a strange certainty that hit me as I sat in an empty classroom talking to the learning support teacher.  I feel comfortable in that environment, if I'm going to do anything apart from write for a living this is it.  

They were really friendly and keen for me to help out with them.  She pulled out the card I had made whilst talking to me and kept drawing attention to it.  So I guess that worked.  I have a few legal hoops to jump first (CRB) but once that is done I will be a volunteer teaching assistant! 

Feeling good

So my life is fairly positive at the moment.  I expected to feel a lot of things after starting to work again but what I did not expect was to feel well.  I feel more well than I have in over 2 years!  My head is clear, my muscles aren't screaming at me and I'm feeling reasonably social.  The optimist in me thinks this may be the end of this period of ME hell.  If it is then thats brilliant!

I'm probably jumping ahead of myself so I am being cautious, keeping a close eye on my health.  I had a milestone this week, I came off the medication given to me for the worst period of my illness.  2 months ago I decided that it wasn't doing me any good anymore, maybe even making me worse.  So I started cutting my dose to wean myself off them and the results were amazing.  Over the last few weeks I've been slowly getting better, feeling brighter and ready to tackle the world again.  

Finally this week I have come off them completely.  The relief is more than I describe here.  I know how depressed it made me when I went back on them in the first place, it felt like a failure, it signified my inability to control my illness.  Since then I've worked through a lot of the issues I've had about having ME and have accepted that I will never control it.  I just have to live with the illness and do all I can to make my life easier.  I wasn't expecting the relief of ridding myself of the retched medication that I think may make things worse.

Next time I start getting ill, and I know there will be a next time, I'm not sure I'll take it.  We'll see anyway, if my theories on the cyclical behaviour of my illness is right, I don't need to worry about that question for another 2-3 years.

Whoosh!

Another week gone and its really flown by.  I managed to get some things done but there are many things I haven't.  I'm still feeling fairly positive but also a little frustrated.  I guess I always have a million things on my to do list and I barely scratch the surface.

I have made great strides with my quilt, nearly 50 squares done already!  I have managed to get through my first full week at work without major incident and I finished reading my book.  But I've gone another week without writing anything, no research done for my book and my house is a tip!

Why is it there is never enough time to get everything done?  There are some women that do it all and seem so organized and on top of things.  I doubt I will ever be one of those women.  Look out for me running behind that woman, late, ragged, with bits flying everywhere just one step away from being mistaken for a hobo! 

A new job

So this week I have been busy starting a new job.  It happened kinda quickly and took me by surprise.  I guess I've been looking for a job for months and had stopped thinking I'd get anywhere and then out of the blue I'm employed.

I now write information packs for a company who arranges for volunteers to go abroad to help in orphanages and schools etc.  It has actually been fairly interesting so far, learning about places like Ghana and Thailand.  It is also pretty stress free which is so important for my ME.  I just head in, work on the computer and then leave.  When I get home I don't think about it until I go back in the next day.

It feels so strange to be back in work again after so long.  I went off sick from my job last June and never went back.  14 months of contemplating my own navel has done me some good I hope.  I won't be making the same mistakes again and hopefully I will fare better than before.

I'm feeling positive.   

Christmas is coming

So this week I started thinking about Christmas.  I know what you're thinking, a bit premature, getting in there even before the shops.  But I make quite a few of the presents I send so it is important to get an early start.  So Monday I started thinking what I wanted to do this year for my nearest and dearest.

I'm always taken by surprise by how relaxing sewing is.  Somewhere inside me a switch flips when I get fabric in my hands and start bending it into something new.  A calm descends and I feel connected.  I feel home.  I don't know if that makes sense at all but that's how it is. 

When I was younger I learnt a lot of crafts, sewing, knitting, embroidery etc. but when I hit my teens I slowly stopped doing it.  The last thing I made was a dress when I was 15 and then after that nothing.

I went through nearly a decade where I didn't do any sewing or knitting or anything.  Then, whilst doing my degree I started playing around with fabric again.  I fell totally in love with the process.  Differences with the same Likeness wrote a blog the other day that got me thinking, about the nature of quilting.  I guess for me the process of creating with fabric is something that I shared with my mother and my grandmother and they shared with theirs.  It is a tangible link to the past, where I come from, it's my anchor to memories I'd forgotten.  It's comfortable, familiar and at the end you don't just get a quilt or item of clothing, or whatever it is you create, you have the memories of the process which will always be linked to the item.

I have to say I've been a little lost of late, which I think is obvious from my blog, I've been preoccupied with so many things which are important and I forgot to do the things that really mean something.

I signed up for a textiles course last week, I figured that just because I haven't got my life sorted doesn't mean I have to stop doing things that I enjoy.  I have started my Christmas crafty projects and everything is right with the world.  I am myself and only myself and I am immersed in the world I love.

Just a little weirdness

The boy that didn’t

A welsh dragon wanders the valleys waiting for a knight to come.  Waiting for a chance to roar and prance in the dance of life and death, looking for a way to become fierce and strong like her mother before her.  She walks the well-worn paths of her ancestors dreaming of the future, the excitement and thrill of the chase.  Dragon catches glimpses of people who hide in the distance scared of her fire and passion expecting attack and pain.  Curling up by the lake she preserves her energy for the fight to come.

 

The little boy plays with swords and jousts with friends, he seems aggressive and fierce.  He watches the knights ride off to battle and fears for them.  His stomach turns from stories told by the hearth to entertain and bolster warrior egos.  He dreads the day they’ll send him to fight when he can longer hide his fear of blood or his reticence to strike the decisive blow.   He will not do it.  No knighthood for him.

 

Dragon slumbers in the valleys, an undetected mound never to be disturbed.  Her destiny unfulfilled, heart broken.   

The House Formally Known as Dell Cottage

A shove to the door gains access

to the cavernous hallway lit by sun

dappled glass panels

etched with flowing flowers,

sentries standing guard at the door.

 

A tatty piece of ply is pinned above the door,

flaking shiny black paint pieces float

from the woodwork to mingle with glass

remnants that crack underfoot

until ground to dust, indistinguishable

from the other decay lining the parquet floor.

 

A thin layer of time rests over handrails

that sweep their sinewy path to the upper levels,

cast iron flowers wind their way

from tread to rail undeterred

by the decay, reminiscent of the flowers

clinging desperately to the proud façade.

 

Been fiddling around with this and not sure about the format, line breaks, construction etc.  Feedback would be much appreciated.

 

Home Again

I arrived home today from spending a week with my parents.  I had a lovely time, but the best I can say is that I missed my cat.  I don't know, I expected stronger reactions than I had.  You know I thought I would be more excited to see them and sadder to leave.

Moggie has been saying that a lot of how I've been feeling lately is linked to my parents leaving.  I've always been a bit skeptical of this idea and I would have thought that if that was the problem I would have had more of a reaction.  Who knows?

Needless to say I had a great week.  Happy to be home with my cat Hattie though.

Oh and a little bit of news, I managed to gain a volunteer position in a school for next year this week.  All I need now is a job!  

Nothing Doing

So another week has passed and I am no further along than I was last week.  There are so many things I want to be getting on with and this week I've just wasted time.  It's not like I have an excuse about how much other stuff has been going on.  I have had several days where my sole achievement has been getting dressed.

Maybe I'm being a bit hard on myself but then someone has to be.  I'm not going to get anywhere unless I push myself.  

Grrr

The Arrival.

So today was the arrival of the weekend I've been planning for the last six months.  Tomorrow Moggie, my mother and myself are heading to see Take That in concert at Wembley Stadium.  It's the first time I've been to the new Wembley and I'm really looking forward to it.

Today is the beginning as it signaled the arrival of my Mum.  Her and my Dad moved to Scotland in April and I haven't seen her since I helped them move.  Of course the house was cleaned as though for a royal visit, my usual messy laidback style pushed aside slightly for a few days but it's worth it.

It's great to see her and the time has whizzed by since they left.  So overall really looking forward to the weekend ahead.

What a Great Evening

I've just spent the evening at a performance by people with learning difficulties.  It was fabulous!  Some of the dance and physical theatre pieces were really moving.

I have decided to post another Poem.  I am still working on the previous one, but this is another for your perusal.

Sleeping Fish

 

Brilliant sunshine frolics on the bed sheets 

sending shivers of envy through the bodies beneath,

enlivened shapes playfully dance and sway

to the rhythm of the sun’s drum.

 

Lavender air drifts in light waves through

the open window kissing the light drapes sending

them skittering across the parquet floor.

 

Long arms caress in the silky warmness

as sleepy minds drift between worlds,

 

just one moment before day begins.

Beautiful Pictures

Margaret MacDonald MacKintosh

Cinderella

Panel painted on Vellum c.1901-23

Margaret MacDonald MacKintosh 

The White Rose and the Red Rose

Panel 1902

Just been looking at some of the work of Margaret MacDonald.  It's just so beautiful I had to post some up here.  

Places I Breath

I was just thinking today about the places I connect with.  The places I go back to over and over, the ones that automatically calm me.  In the moments when you open the car door and step out into the scenery and life evens out and everything else melts away.

There are few places where I can feel completely still.  My mind stills and I'm just there.  I'm not thinking about the past and the future and everything in between.  I am right there in the moment, feeling my way through the landscape.

The thing is that these places are all rural.  The power of nature to keep me calm surprises me.  I live in the city, I always have lived in fairly built up areas.  Now I'm not sure why.  If I feel calmer and more myself in the countryside why on earth am I living in the city?

Chasing Clouds

This is a new poem I have just written.  It is still in the early stages but I really could do with some feedback on it.  Feel free to be brutal!

Chasing Clouds   

The bright grass sways

around my prone state 

as I spot shapes in the clouds.  

The sun beats down, 

I am on the warm side of comfortable, 

an insubstantial mass of conscious 

amongst the sentient brave.   

The compacted ground beneath 

my lying form sends my back 

into spasm that does not ease 

until I raise my legs. 

Feet flat on the ground 

knees peeking out from the grass 

caps tickled by the gentle sway.   

I wait here as the clouds advance over me 

fluffy white delicacies will turn 

into angry bruises roiling across 

the sky like a petulant child threatening to cry 

the droplets falling to caress my skin 

clinging to the sanctuary. 

Waking my deadened limbs.    

Laying in this glade will not save me 

the impending darkness lovingly calls 

Staying does not deliver an inquiring mind, 

it is just enough to mimic living 

the grass not real, just as the fluffy 

white bunnies in sky will not remain 

when I open my eyes to the world.        

Full Throttle

So today I posted my volunteer requests to the schools in the area.  I sent out my carefully crafted invites in their eye-catching envelopes addressed to each Headteacher personally.  I stood and deposited them in the post box and realized I was holding my breath.

That's it.  They are gone.  The risk has been taken, the choice made.  I didn't realize until I was stood there how important that step really was.  I could have backed out before now, even after all the effort I put into creating the little cards, I could have thrown them away.  For a split second that seemed like a tempting idea.

Now they are gone I guess the worry is less about what if they don't reply and more what if they do?  I've made a decision and I'm not sure whether I can follow through.  What if I get there and I suck?  I could fail at this, I've never taught children before, they might hate me.  These are the things I worried about the moments before the letters slid soundless into the box.  Unlike usual though I have gone ahead regardless.  I am going full throttle on this, to hell with the consequences.     

That way, hopefully, I'll surprise myself.

Checking in

Wow! What a week.

I've been so busy creating things and concentrating on my non-existing career.  I've been looking for a job for the last 3 months and had got into a pattern of applying for anything that had the right amount of hours.  I was sending out the same CV, churning out the same answers to application questions and getting nowhere.  

When I was at college I attended many seminars in standing out in the creative market, individual looking CVs and the like but I had only ever applied that to creative applications.  When looking for a normal job I would revert back to the old standard CV and covering letter.

After last week's decision to do teacher training to hopefully teach primary school, I realized I needed experience in a school.  This week I was sorting out letters requesting voluntary work within primary schools.  I started trying to do what I normally do, when a friend pointed out that they must receive quite a few of these requests and that maybe I should try something different.

She was right.  I have made little notecards using illustrations that I have drawn this week and I have to admit they look quite good.  It has spurred me on to put the same effort into my CV and applications.  I have completely redeveloped my CV with illustrations in the background like a watermark.  I really like them and they are really 'me'.

Whether it will get a better response than my previous one I don't know, but at least I will have given them something a little different to look at.  And I will be going into any interview with them expecting me, not just another lemming .

What a Gorgeous Day

The sun has been shining and I'm in a good mood.  Today I took my 30 minutes writing outdoors to celebrate the lifting of the rain.  It was lovely.  I sat under a tree, listened to music and wrote.

It was a bit self-conscious to start with but after a few minutes I totally forgot there were people around me.  I got so absorbed in writing I barely noticed the others stretched out across the park.

So overall a good day.   

Old Friends

I've been revisiting books I've read in the past recently and I have to say they haven't let me down.  Books I remember from childhood and books from my angsty teen years and more recently discovered ones that were worth another read.

I've rediscovered The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge and I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, both books I loved in my early teens.  Even now they have a charm that make them worth reading.

Next I visited Jane Austen and remembered just how much I like her.  These days I guess it's not cool liking classic romance, I should be reading edgier stuff, but I can't help myself.  Liking romance these days is like admitting you've sung along to a Michael Bolton song or cried at Neighbours!  It's just not admitted to.

My younger preference for Pride and Prejudice has been replaced by my  older and wiser self and Persuasion is current favorite.  I feel as though some books are like old friends, warm and welcoming and reassuringly familiar.  I'm all for boldly pushing the boundaries on fiction (I love Hunter S Thompson, Chuck Palahnuik) but sometimes there is something beautiful to be found in the familiar.

I feel myself luxuriating in characters I know better than some friends I've had.  They are the books of my years and I'll always have a soft spot for them.  

Next stop Room With a View and then perhaps I'll dive back into a Margaret Atwood.

  

New Layout

Just changed my layout.  Trying it out.  What do you think?

Feedback appreciated. x

So, what do you do?

Today I'm mostly contemplating the nature of work and why I can't seem to make up my mind what I'm going to do.  Every week I have another way in which I'm going to get by financially and none of them stick.  I guess I never really knew what I wanted to do when I grew up and I still don't.

There are many things that interest me and I find my attention span fairly short, which is not conducive to finding a long term career.  When I think of an ideal world where I get to do my dream job, it's not a conventional job.

The bottom line is I want to be a writer.  I suppose I already am.  I write fiction.  I sometimes dabble in poetry but my main thing is fiction.  Ideally I would love to earn money with my writing but I think it's not that realistic and if I can do this it'll be a long way off.

There are jobs where I can use my creative juices to earn money like journalism or advertising but that's not for me.  The idea of bending my creativity in that way doesn't sit right.  If I write I want to only write the subjects that float my boat.  

That leaves me with the option of finding something to keep me afloat financially.  But what?  And should I really wait it out in a job I'm not into in the hope that one day I'll be published?  I have other interests, things that get me excited intellectually, should I chase them instead?

My head hurts.  

Neno's Award

I'd like to thank An Uninspiring Blog Title for nominating me for this award. It's great to know when people enjoy the blog and your blog was one of the first I check in on when I started looking at others. It's has inspired my thoughts and writing.

Neno’s Rules
1. As a dedication for those who love blogging and love to encourage friendships through blogging.
2. To seek the reasons why we all love blogging.
3. Put the award in one post as soon as you receive it.
4. Don’t forget to mention the person who gives you the award.
5. Answer the awards question by writing the reason why you love blogging.
6. Tag and distribute the award to as many people as you like.
7. Don’t forget to notify the award receivers and put their links in your post.

I love blogging as gives me a space to syphon my thoughts, just skimming the top off my over-active brain. There are many reasons why I blog and even more why I read others' blogs. This space we have here is great to bounce off each others ideas. Other's thoughts inspire mine and then mine inspire others. It's a great process.

I'd like to pass this award on to:

Time To Tell the World

Plan Plan Plan

So I've decided I need a plan and I thought I would post it on here in a bid to stick to it. I don't do well with plans, a small discipline issue, so I'm trying new avenues to enforce progress.

Firstly I will write for at least 30 minutes every day. I'm hoping it will be longer than this but figure starting with a small amount might be a good idea. If I go over that amount I can feel like I've achieved something.

Secondly I'm gonna start walking more. I've been trying to locate parks around my area within walking distance so that whenever the weather is nice I can head out and spend some time outside. I've spent far too much time indoors recently and it's depressing.

Thirdly I want to only search for jobs online every other day. It seems that looking for a job has become my new time wasting technique. There is no need to keep checking several times a day. It's overkill.

Lastly I want to do more sewing. I've been doing odds and ends but nothing planned. I have projects I want to really get stuck into and why put things off? I'm just gonna go for it.

So now it's written down there's no going back. My failure this time would be public.

Let the experiment begin!

Old is a state of mind

So I went to a party tonight. You might be able to see by the time of this post that I didn't stay late. I just don't get that scene anymore. The music was so loud you couldn't talk, there were annoying strobe lights and it took forever to get served at the bar.

It was at this point that i realized I had gotten old. A few moments later I realized I didn't care. I was glad that I had finished with that part of my life. After all it took a lot of alcohol for me to enjoy that scene even when I was really young (like 18!!).

I say good for the old fuddy duddies, they know what they're talking about. I'll be applying for my zimmer frame shortly!

Dormant Haloes

Someone said to me one day while the sun
was shining and the days were long
that I would never amount to much
I smiled and I thought you're right.

That person had always been disappointed
in my lack of drive, my way of making everything a joke.
I would laugh at those who gave a damn
or those who pushed to make the grade.

That person didn't know what happened
to dreams, or where high hopes led.
They did not understand the importance
of invisibility, in blending with the crowd.

Getting by was more important than getting ahead
Dreams crept in and were swept away
hidden beneath bravado and joviality
lay the dormant haloes of a fallen angel.

What point was there to falling where others fear to tread,
reaching for something other than the safety of your head.

The Cheek of some people!!

So today I had a visit from my sister-in-law (JC). This was odd on 2 counts. Firstly, she normally lets me know before she pops round and secondly she was supposed to be at work.

She seemed really pissed off so I made her a drink and waited for her to vent. I was expecting something was wrong at work as she has only been there 3 weeks and already she hates it there. It seems like the people she works for are a little crazy and very rude. I had been hearing odd stories about them for the last few weeks.

She sighed and begun the latest story. I have to say I was shocked that employers think they can get away with what has happened. Perhaps I'm naive but I thought there were laws protecting people from this sort of thing:

JC had applied for the job through the Jobcentre website. They had advertised for someone on a low salary with a high commission estimate. This was confirmed in the interview and they offered her the job. When JC received the contract it stated it was commission only. When she queried this she was told it was an error and they would sort it out and come back to her with new a contract.

It took them 3 weeks of gentle reminders for them to do anything, the whole time JC is working full time. This morning they asked for a meeting with her and told her the job was commission only and not meant to be her only job. When she challenged them that the advert had stated a salary and an OTE they told her she could either accept it or leave!

The cheek of some people to think others are gonna roll over and take whatever they dish out! Needless to say she going to tell them where to go and look into where she stands legally.

tsk tsk tsk

The thing about laziness...

...is that it's a disease. It arrives in one part of your life and then quickly spreads to all other aspects until your entire being is saturated. along the way it mutates into apathy, boredom, lethargy etc. Nothing positive is born out of laziness.

I've been wondering today about what it is that makes me put off the things I should be doing. Is it laziness? I guess I have spent a lot of time getting in my own way but I've never really been sure why. Somewhere during my early school years I learnt that if I coasted I had more friends. I taught myself to use simpler words and only do as much as it took to get by.

I got past the being someone else for other people thing a long time ago but the laziness thing has never worn off.

However much I want to I don't seem to push myself in anything. I have no discipline.

A bit of nonsense

Strange what just falls out of my head sometimes. This is just a little something, totally undiluted and raw:

Light tingles spread across my arm and the smell of rain assaults my senses before I even feel the first drop. The dark purple bruises travel fast across the darkening sky all light reduced to a tiny shaft of brilliance caressing the leaves of the trees around me. I am standing alone amongst nature. We are in communion. The clouds pass over me, sending me into darkness and on to the rain. The first fat drop falls, barely caressing my cheek before tumbling to my chest to weave a meandering course on my skin and easing under the cotton barrier of my top. Others follow on until they have beaten down their predecessors leaving my body cloaked in slick moisture. My clothes desperately cling wet from the onslaught. The smell is overpowering now in my little patch of green and I welcome it. I am laughing as the lightening begins to strike. The energy it releases hits like a tidal wave. It is absorbed by earth and the air. Too much power for one living thing to possess, it has destroyed an oak in my forest. Vengeful flames lick at the air, cursing the water pounding at its soul. With this power the world is mine if I wished it. The power and the glory ripe for the taking. I will not take it. I do not wish to be consumed. I will just stand guard until my time is ended.

shivers

I'm just listening to some music and thought I'd check back in. The last week has been quite weird. I've kept coming on here thinking I would post something but kept drawing a blank. I found myself with nothing to say. Maybe I did but not something I was ready to write down.

Sometimes writing down what's on your mind feels so final. Thoughts are just thoughts until they are written down and then they're just out there, stark, open and vulnerable. Words can be a very frightening thing. They can express emotions and thoughts that we perhaps try to hide. Once they are verbalized they exist in a way they didn't within your head.

Facing them written down is enlightening but also incredibly scary. perhaps my head is a darker place than I would like it to be, maybe things aren't good. I've always been a fairly positive person, telling myself there is a way to do everything, a way to talk myself out of any bad situation.

I guess my own arguments are sounding a little thin these days, because it takes may take just one person to exist but you need more than one person to make a real life.

So I think it is time I headed out of my life for one inside my head and got a real one. How do I do that? I guess I've forgotten along the way, time to relearn.

reading

Recently I've been rereading a book I read a few years ago. Most of it I had forgotten and it has been good to rediscover a story I enjoyed in the past. I'm nearing the end now and have been reluctant to pick it up and read.

I know some of the events that happen at the end of the book and find myself unable to read them. I know one of the main characters die and that some bad things happen towards the end. Obviously things all work out apart from the one death I've mentioned but I can't seem to make myself read it.

I feel like I don't want to read it, which is ridiculous as I know I like the story. I wonder what is it that makes us shy away from sadness sometimes even when we know it is make believe. A good story can make us experience a whole range of emotions and sometimes we seek these things out, but what makes it resonate so deeply.

It's strange how the lives of people who never existed can touch us more than those who populate our own little worlds.

I think I might leave the book for a day or two and try again.

Hmm, a bit deep for me...

An Angel told me he wasn't holding his breath,
that some people just walk past the sign
for deliverance on their way to the supermarket.

My Angel says ignorance is not my excuse
I'm already a lost cause and there's only so many
times he'll hit me over the head with the sign.

Angel doesn't know I can always see it
never thought my blindness deliberate
or that I choose to walk away from salvation.


Just typed this straight into the computer and was a little surprised. Any thoughts welcome.

Loneliness

So for the past couple of weeks I've not really felt right. I can't really explain the uneasy feeling I've been walking around with. It was made all the more strange because I couldn't identify it. It was an alien feeling to me and not being able to compartmentalize this feeling disturbed me.

If you've read any of my previous blogs or have known me at any stage of my life you'll understand why. I am a control freak and don't deal well with my own emotions. They are identified, labelled and then stored away, hopefully never to resurface in a form more harmful than the co-ordinating of my underwear.

It hit me today as I sat restlessly watching tv what the emotion I've been grappling with is. Like a bolt from the blue I knew my problem and why I had not realized earlier.

I am lonely.

I have never been lonely before. It's hard to believe but it's true. I have managed to get to the ripe old age of 27 without ever being lonely. Its a very strange and alien concept for me to wrap my head around and throws into confusion the future I have long had in mind for myself (crazy cat lady).

I wondered why I had never felt this feeling before. There are times in my life where I have felt so alone and isolated but even in my darkest moments I wasn't lonely. I guess the answer is an easy one. I never let myself feel lonely before. I made my life so reliant on only myself that the thought that I could need something from another person that I couldn't provide for myself was impossible.

Now I have let that mindset go a little. I allow others to help. I think this is why I am lonely because I know I don't have everything I need. That I need more.

I'm not sure who is more sad, me back then or me now.

Leda

And lastly, this is the second to last poem I wrote before the barren years.



Leda


The distant hum of wings whistles through the water.

Minute droplets of acidic fear fall on her bare flesh
And refuse to burn away the blood
spattered on his pristine white feather breast.

His claws are rampant in the struggle for his prey.

The grotesque beating melody effaces
my eardrums as the sea ebbs away
from the majestic swan in triumphal stand.

Stirred by the gentle moans of the retreating surf

the bird takes flight leaving the figure still
swaying to the beat of wing on flesh,
a trickle of red on her ankle sinking in the sand.

Journey to Eden

Moving on through the years this is me at 19. Slightly less Emo.


Journey to Eden

Softly, Softly
on the cold stone floor
feet exposed to the harsh
abrasive surface
that nature created
and man carved.

Gently, gently
across the dew ridden grass
that clings desperately
to the sanctuary
of the creviced sole
hardened with cold.

Careful, careful
through the thorns to Eden
the yearning of
something promised
but not yet fulfilled
revives the heart.

Lightly, lightly
on the sandy shores
dancing through the
grainy sand that runs
through my toes
my naked feet.

Still, still
with death lapping
at my vulnerable feet
enticing me for a dip
maybe just
for a little while.

Conversations with my 16 year old self cont...

Savage Man


The world is turning
spinning on the axis of the mind
orbiting the heart
like a hunter circles its prey
waiting to savagely eat.
Primal instinct
runs through the veins
pumping the hunter adrenalin
as he lies in wait
for the stray young
of another man's tribe
to devour, destroy, to mutilate.

Conversations with my 16 year old self

So today i was looking through some old poems I wrote when I was young and hormonal. Thought I'd share a few with you.

Shades of Me

Endless shades of grey engulf the subconscious
blurred at the edges, devoid of clarity
Rainy in my heart, stormy in my soul
A million shades of grey that entrap the spirit.

Sparkles of moonbeam that shoot through the dull
so many shades of rainbow fighting
so little light battles and succeeds
A million shades of moonbeam hold the keys.

Searching for my purple haze on the horizon
never coming, waiting feels like forever
wind blows through my mind and soul
A million shades of purple haze is my hope

Endless shades of confusion in my conscious
Conflicting thoughts in heart and in head
whirling like tornadoes, hurricanes
A million shades of grey on my stormy sea

A million shades of me.


I know, I never realized quite how emo I was back then and this is by no means the most depressing!

Tracing Happiness

Curve of the lip and spark in the eye,
vague crinkle between mouth and nose,
a brief dazzle of pearl.

A carbon copy of a true emotion
does nothing to the original.

Not There

Ancient echoes tell me that you’re leaving
The walls leak shadows of hungry eyes
searching for words that choke in my throat.
The world waits impatiently

in the hollow of the silence as
feelings topple inward and seal the mourning
of the loss of what was never there.
So rings the timeless chime of life ill spent.



So this is my first poem in about 4 years. So bizarre that it came off the back of my last post. It is literally a first draft but thought it might as well go up as can't believe I wrote it. My poetry has been blocked for a long time.

Today I wondering whether I take enough risks. I suppose I've always been a very cautious person, not wanting to commit to something without being sure of the outcome. I have been accused of over-thinking things and Ive never bothered to deny it. Just recently, however, I have started to think about the things I could be missing out on by sticking to my regimented way of thinking.

I'm not saying I never take risks but they are rare. The biggest risk would have to have been my college course, which sounds a little sad now I think of it. The battle with myself that I went through just to show up to the interview was bad enough. My hands were shaking and my mind was blank except for the fear coursing through my veins. Self-doubt plagued me but that wasn't the main reason for the panic I felt.

I sat on a bench outside the building I was to enter, clutching a portfolio of work which the majority of I had never let another person read. I was about to hand over something that was incredibly private for somebody else to scrutinize. I was not there because I thought I had talent or because my work work was remarkable in any way. I was there because I loved making it.

In the deepest darkest moments of my life, when I just wanted to curl up and die, when I thought my world was empty of anything worth holding onto I could sit down and release all the hurt and the pain. Other times I would just escape into the world in my head and live in a place full of so much more than I possessed in reality.

The works in my hand were the products of my sanctuary and so close to my heart that I resisted letting them go. I didn't know what awaited them and myself on the inside of that building and it made me want to run as far away from it as possible.

But I didn't.

It was the bravest decision I have ever made and not just because I opened myself up to be judged but because I had no idea what the outcome would be. Would I be able to do the same again? That I don't know. Now I am a little more battered and bruised and also a little more open and vulnerable.

I would never have guessed that day sat on the bench where I would be now, 5 years later. I started a process that day that has slowly removed personal barriers that I didn't know needed to be removed. I am a better person for it but I am also much more cautious.

My decisions effect me more than they used to and risks become greater now. I wonder whether it has prevented me taking the risks needed to really live my life. I told myself after that day that I would risk more and think less but it didn't really pan out that way. The worst affected area I think is my artwork. My art can be good but it is not extraordinary and I think the only way it'll ever get there is if I put myself on the line.

I want be that person walking into the unknown whose willing to show herself to the world. Just to say "This is me deal with it".

Will it happen?

We'll see...

News

I'm not sure what I want to say today but I felt like I should come on here.

News Update:

My parents are moving to Scotland, which is a long way from where I live. I'm not sure how to feel about this. People keep asking me about it and I can name all the reasons it will be good for them and I really see it as a great move for them. But then comes the look. People get that searching look, like they are trying to find what I'm not saying.

I'm expected to state the obvious about how I'm gonna miss them, like that's not a given. More than that I think 'm expected to be more upset than I am. Maybe I'm unfeeling but I'm just not that upset.

My older sister is acting like a child over the whole thing, which is annoying me. She seems to be displaying all the emotions expected of me. all I can think is that this behaviour is pathetic. I just don't get the big deal.

The Merits of Research

I do remember sitting in a classroom which was always the temperature of the tropics a few years ago. I was sat next to LB, we were both randomly doodling with the giant pens that I thought would be funny. In my head I'm thinking the over-zealous heating is a ploy to see us prancing around in swimwear ala Club Tropicana by Wham. The song takes hold within my head playing in a circuit.

In the background AS, our then long-suffering teacher, is talking about something important, if I can only just focus on it. But that pesky George Michael is relentless. I lean to my other side and DH is scribbling furiously her notes. I make out one word RESEARCH. Crisis averted, no need to listen, research isn't really vital to my career as a writer.

BOY WAS I WRONG!!!!!

A few years have passed since I left my degree in Creative Writing. I left with a BA and stunted creativity. I thought this was down to overthinking my writing. I ditched all planning and research and just started writing from my heart. I ignored my brain telling me to correct spelling or grammar and ignored the critical voice asking where it was going.

I found it freeing creatively and actually began writing something I was happy with. It wasn't perfect but I liked it, which was an improvement. When I started looking at the work I was doing it was all inter-related. Unknowingly I'd started writing a trilogy.

As the work progressed I put down a plan. A PLAN! Totally unlike me. Two weeks ago I was suddenly struck by the fact that in order to make my work better I need to research quite a bit of information.

The big revelation is that I enjoy doing research. I'm surrounded by books and my own typed notes. Everything is covered in highlights and post its. It's all very surreal but I love it.

All those years ago sat in that classroom I never thought I would be in the position I'm in now.

This is serious now, not just a hobby, my life is this story now and I'm compelled to finish it. Scary

Back again

Again with the long absence. I guess not having regular internet is really affecting what I'm keeping up with. I realised yesterday that I hadn't talked to one of my friends for months. Thats pretty terrible. She lives in France and the only way to keep in contact is via e-mail.

I guess the problem lies with me thinking I have nothing to say. Which is not true. I have plenty to say just maybe not anything interesting. So I think I'm just gonna stick some new thoughts up here anyway. Send them to the great Muser in the sky.