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?