Saturday, 23 January 2010
Slipping - Postcard Fiction
Monday, 18 January 2010
Pick Me Up
Thursday, 14 January 2010
Failure
I received word today that I didn't get into the second teaching course I applied for.
To say I’m not surprised is true, to say I’m miserable, perhaps also true, but mostly I’m terrified. Teaching was my practical option. My sensible choice. It was the thing that I figured I would enjoy and was the most likely to be successful of any of my courses of action. Now it has fallen through. I am completely without anchor because I’d convinced myself not to plan for every eventuality. I have no plan B at this stage, nothing to push me forward.
All other ideas of what would make me happy are not practical. I have spent many hours pouring over what I would like to be doing and none are financially viable:
I want another degree – I feel I wasted a lot of my 1st degree and although I enjoyed the creative based work I would like to do something more theory based. The problem with this is that it would cost way more money than I could ever think to afford.
I want to write – If I could make a living from writing my life would be wonderful. It is my dream to be able to write knowing I didn’t need any other form of income. This is problematic as it is highly unlikely to ever happen. Even if I manage to get published it is unlikely to bring me large enough sums of money to make ends meet.
I want an MA – Again my need for intellectual stimulation rears its ugly head. What I would really like is to push through to PHD level and teach University level students. The problem with this is again financial. It would cost a lot more than I could find to do this. It is not an option.
I love designing and making things – I have been making handmade baby clothes the past few weeks as something to fill my time. I have booked a table at some small craft fairs over the next few months to see if they sell. I love doing this, it feels so calming but this is also not a practical way of making money. My output on making these things is not enough to make any decent money from them. It’s a nice supplement to any income but not an income in it’s own right.
These are all I have left in my list of things I would enjoy doing, none of which are practical options. I know I can’t go back to working in an office again it just kills me physically and mentally. Shops are also a no no because of my ME (I have trouble shopping in shops on my own let alone working in one).
I keep reaching, trying to find a solution, an option of some kind that is not going to make me ill and I come back with nothing. Where I go from here I don’t know and that scares the hell out of me.
Monday, 4 January 2010
waking up
Sunday, 3 January 2010
Procrastination
My ability to procrastinate shocks even me sometimes. I have spent the week doing pretty much fuck all, apart from reading a couple of books. I’ve not even got dressed most days, preferring to veg on the sofa in my PJs. I have plans, plans I’m excited about, but the more I think about it the more immobile I become, the longer I lay in bed and the less I seem to do of anything. I know this habit, its one I’m very familiar with but I have yet to learn to break it. I know what I want which is a real rarity for me and now I’m left frustrated with my own lack of movement on these issues.
I guess the problem is more about my own need to know what I’m doing and the possible outcomes before proceeding. This is ok in principle but what happens when I don’t know where it will lead? This is what happens, the rabbit in headlights look descends. It really winds me up because not all my life is like that. Most of my life I have sorted in my head and I have the possible outcomes all mapped out. I know how to get those things therefore I can predict a series of outcomes that I am ready for.
There is only one thing that I haven’t been able to sort out in my head. This is because I don’t know how proceed because I’ve never done it before. I have very little frame of reference to draw from having just happened upon it the last time, besides I would not want to base anything I do now on that as it was such a spectacular disaster!
My brain doesn’t function without a plan, at all. I haven’t got a clue how I’m going to get this particular thing on the list. As usual if there’s just one thing that’s not 100% thought through my brain goes into shut down. It’s like ‘Wing it?... Do not compute!’ I get absolutely nothing done, even the stuff I know what I’m doing with. I have no idea how to break this particular manifestation of my inner control freak and it’s annoying the hell out of me.
Any suggestions?
Monday, 21 December 2009
Positive Mental Attitude
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Well thats different
Monday, 16 November 2009
Finally done it
Sunday, 8 November 2009
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.
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
The silent room
Saturday, 26 September 2009
Negativity is bad for your health
Friday, 18 September 2009
Black and White - Peeping at the surface
Thursday, 17 September 2009
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.
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
Growing pains
Monday, 7 September 2009
Dickensian Boy
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!!