As a child, my first experience of being humiliated and disillusioned was a painful experience at Sir Jonathan North. I was deeply passionate about history, I wanted to study history and either be a historian, librarian or work in a museum. That was my goal, my fascination with ancient cultures… Especially the Romans, meant that I had collected a fine display of Roman pottery and coins. When we covered this era in history class, I was beyond excited and chose to take my collection to class to share in a ‘show and tell’…
Well that was a disaster, my class ‘friends’ mocked my collection… Calling the whole thing a waste of time and boring etc…
My bubble was burst, I was disheartened and at that point neglected my life goals, feeling humiliation and bullied…
My passion became a dirty secret, I lost a lot of the pottery (because it reminded me of being bullied) but somewhere in my heart the ancient Romans refused to let go of my interest…
So when the chance arose to visit the dig site in Leicester last weekend, I couldn’t resist, waiting an hour in drizzle and cold with hundreds of others, for a glimpse of Roman Leicester awoken some of my passion, but also a fair deal of humiliation.
However it has thrown into light an interesting concept in my mind, how one painful experience changed the whole direction of my life, because I was bullied for something I loved… Had I not took comments so personally, had I shrugged off such negative attitudes, would I have never been bullied for so long?
Had I just ignored them, would I have followed my dream, fulfilled my goals and become an academic? How different could my life had been had I reacted differently to one singular event?
A quick look at a collection of various media currently inspiring the ‘Notsoshortshortstory’ among other elements of my life, painting, scribblings and mood…
Lyrics:
The truth is subjective
And the court has lost perspective
And what is your objection here
Fear’s only fear if that’s what you call it
But what do you call it if you cannot speak?
Fear isn’t real unless you invoke it
So how can you blame it if you don’t believe
(Believe in me) Why won’t you believe
Liar, you thief, what you did to that priest
You’re wild and you’re reckless, you cursed the queen’s necklace
You connived and deceived and learned how to read
You’ve made the men wary and say you won’t marry
Speak your mind and deny
All the things that you have done
You are guilty
You are found guilty of every crime under the sun
The truth is subjective
And the court has lost perspective
And what is your objection here
Pain isn’t pain unless that’s what you name it
But how do you name it if you cannot speak?
Pain isn’t real unless you invoke it
So how can you suffer if you don’t believe
Liar, you thief, what you did to that priest
You’re wild and you’re reckless, you cursed the queen’s necklace
You connived and deceived and learned how to read
You’ve made the men wary and say you won’t marry
Speak your mind and deny
All the things that you have done
You are guilty
You are found guilty of every crime under the sun
And the jury of my peers has yet to learn my name
And the congregation of your fear refuses me my name
Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
You better say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Say my…
Say my name
You better say my name
Say my name
You better say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
You better say my name
Say my name
You better say my name
Say my name
Say my name
Say my name
You better say my name
***
***
***
Lyrics:
Take the children and yourself
And hide out in the cellar
By now the fighting will be close at hand
Don’t believe the church and state
And everything they tell you
Believe in me, I’m with the high command
Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?
Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?
There’s a gun and ammunition
Just inside the doorway
Use it only in emergency
Better you should pray to God
The Father and the Spirit
Will guide you and protect from up here
Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?
Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?
Swear allegiance to the flag
Whatever flag they offer
Never hint at what you really feel
Teach the children quietly
For some day sons and daughters
Will rise up and fight while we stand still
Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?
Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?
Can you hear me, can you hear me running (can you hear me calling you?)
Can you hear me hear running, can you hear me calling you?
(Can you hear me running) Can hear me running (can you hear me calling you)?
Can you hear me
Hear me calling you
(Can you hear me running) hear me running, babe
Can you hear me running (hear me running)
Calling you
Fortune, fame
Mirror vain
Gone insane
But the memory remainsHeavy rings on fingers wave
Another star denies the grave
See the nowhere crowd, cry the nowhere tears of honor
Like twisted vines that grow
That hide and swallow mansions whole
And dim the light of an already faded prima donna
Fortune, fame
Mirror vain
Gone insane…
Fortune, fame
Mirror vain
Gone insane…
But the memory remains
Heavy rings hold cigarettes
Up to lips that time forgets
While the Hollywood sun sets behind your back
And can’t the band play on?
Just listen, they play my song
Ash to ash
Dust to dust
Fade to black
Fortune, fame
Mirror vain
Gone insane…
Fortune, fame
Mirror vain
Gone insane…
Dance, little tin goddess
Na-na-na…
Drift away
Fade away
Little tin goddess
Ash to ash
Dust to dust
Fade to black
Fortune, fame
Mirror vain
Gone insane…
Fortune, fame
Mirror vain
Gone insane…
But the memory remains
Ash to ash
Dust to dust
Fade to black…
But the memory remains, yeah
To this faded prima donna yeah, yeah, yeah, hey
[Solo]
Dance, little tin goddess, dance
Na-na-na…
[spoken:]
Say yes
At least say hello
Say yes
At least say hello
I am in love with the arts, my passion expands beyond writing, I adore painting, but I am no artist. I try to take pretty photos, but I am no photographer. I write possibly each day, but I know in my heart I shall never be published, my art will never grace the walls of any gallery, my photography will never be found in any magazine and my next project will probably amass to nothing either. Basically, because it doesn’t matter…
… I crave not fame and fortune, I can not adhere to the strict ‘rules of writing’ I use far too many words, I tell don’t show… Instead of show don’t tell… and I use far too many dots all dotted around the place in dot like chaos…
I write, I draw, I paint, I snap photos because these are things I love to do and mediums I admire. I attend talks by poets, who can stand before an audience and share their words beautifully, I will travel the country and even abroad to visit museums and galleries to witness displays attend exhibitions of world famous artists and also find local artists hidden in pub attics in small side streets… falling in love with the colours and lines, the words, a dance… inspiration surrounds me, I find beauty in the mundane, a leaf in a puddle becomes a boat for captain ant and his band of merry pirates.
My love delves into music, though I can not play an instrument (yet) I love the world within movies, books, stage and screen, comics, heroes, villains, aliens, the macabre, the tortured souls trapped in pages of a dusty novel. The unknown, the supernatural, the inner realms of sincere spirituality…
My name will never grace anything more than this blog and that my friends, is enough for me …
I’ve not written since before Christmas, I had decided to give myself a little time out to reflect on recent events and focus on coming to terms with my current loss. I tried to write, but my words had become fuddled in my mind, they wouldn’t translate to paper/screen and the pictures in my mind vanished with frustration. The longer I tried to hold a scene, to describe events the swifter events slipped by… My muse had left me… *strike dramatic pose*
Truth was a lot simpler, I just had too much of ‘normality’ that needed my attention and the inner realm was not in fact beyond my grasp, but pushed back to the far recess of my mind so I could deal with what laid before me. My stories starting to play out in my dreams instead, this helped resolve my insomnia, I was dreaming and I was sleeping. These factors also aided my ability to deal with shit.
I have dreams which follow on from one another, like my own personal soap opera in my mind, I replay last nights events in my thoughts as I lay my head down to sleep and somehow the little characters in my dreams can pick up the threads of a tale and run with it.
So if I can think it, see it in my mind and even dream events, why can I not find the words I need to describe my inner world to my small circle of readers? I have new characters to introduce you too, new plots and plans, I decided that I would introduce mythological creatures when a Phoenix entered the Kings realm and stole the stone (spoiler?) my imagination was working overtime, but my pen laid dormant.
Maybe the answer was with the appearance of the Phoenix? For these creatures arise from the ashes, they are life after death, resurrection, reincarnation… Personally they have a family connection lingering there deeply…
I needed time and I needed to accept the fact that I also had to take a break from writing, because forcing writing just turns into nonsense. So I rested, my story rested, my dreams lead my plot and in life I could focus on the harsh reality I was going through. Sometimes the answer is not to escape, but to give reality the attention it required…
I am ready to start to write again – yet I’m still not ready to cry… But I am back!
I had been crying in my sleep, I know this because I awoke with dusty eyes, itchy and glued eyelashes. The fading remains of a non-memory swiftly leading my morning mind.
I had spent my dream in deepest distress, I had lost a baby yet I was at a wedding trying to be happy for the newly weds who were expecting. I don’t know where I was, this was one of my dream realms, where I know everyone, but none exist in reality.
There was a shadow, this shape which followed me throughout my dream, guarding me, watching me, because I could not see anything beyond my crippling torment.
I felt my belly, it was empty, hollow, like a broken eggshell, the life within stolen from me, leaving me shattered and running, running and searching, seeking the lost… Like it was something outside, beyond, reachable … But totally out of my grasp…
I awoke, Casper using me as a springboard, between the window and his awaiting food. Joy stirred, glared disdainfully that her beauty sleep should be disturbed by thunder paws.
It was 10 minuets before the alarm was due to go off and I had been crying in my sleep…
I realise I have not written in a while, neither blogging or fiction, but my little pink book has been collecting the never ending scribbles of a mind/life which feels currently trapped in limbo. Circumstances currently are limiting my freedom and although this is just a temporary situation, which I have no objection too, I still feel a little lost in life until everything gets back to ‘normal’ … ish …
So me and my little pink book make plans together, we analyse, we criticize, we sympathize and we look ahead, for looking behind was starting to destroy my peace of mind and looking ahead forms a clear path beyond the chaos.
I’ve enrolled in a writing class, Word Salad, which I am absolutely looking forward too, that inspiration to write on a regular basis and develop my rusty skills, have fun, create beauty with words, or vile horror… I wonder where this new adventure will lead?
But can I juggle words with language? For I am a fool to myself (and my bank balance) all common sense must have fled my mind, as I have also enrolled, again, with Leicester University to learn Japanese! These two courses I am looking forward to working through along side each other, one may influence or distract from the other or they may compliment each other…
I have been bold, I have reached out for something to direct me after I escape this limbo. This, and a recent (see this morning) insult, have actually added inspiration to push myself further, to reach beyond this current stillness, to actually question each fragment of my life and see a challenge instead of a stumbling block.
You know, I actually don’t want to be a famous writer, I don’t want to be an expert in any field, I have pretended, I have attempted to lead, to guide and advise… But in recent years I have cast off my old self and the fake ego which I have used as a mask to hide my depression. A frail soul disguised as something I was not.
I am happier without this ego, happier to begin again, to start from scratch and learn all new shiny adventures along my way. Life is more peaceful without the need for false faces and insults, instead of hurting, have spurred me forth instead.
Limbo will lift, in time, I know I have a ‘to do’ list longer than my life span, but at least this way, there will never be a dull moment…
My dreams, when I can remember them are surreal to say the least. Though I find them all very similar, the settings, the scenes, the people and the colours… It is as though I somehow reach into the same world inside my mind each time I dream.
My Dreamscape is quite dystopian, rugged landscapes and ruined cities, I always feel this urge to ‘clean’ my dreams… But cleaning is the last ting I have time for in my head. These sepia dreams are usually very action packed, the people are sometimes those from reality, but mostly they are not real people at all, some aren’t even people. Yet these archetypes appear time and time again in my nighttime realm. I know them, I live an entire different life with them.
The colours are always muted, or it’s dark, dusk, dawn? That surreal half light tinged with an over wash of brown, like when you leave your shades on too long and forget you are wearing them, though it is the colour of the sky… Buildings are ruined, yet technology has advanced, there is no where to live, just holes to rest between fighting.
I have even been known to dream within my dream… and when I dream within my dream, my dreams are set here in reality… the normal world outside my window… and I will wake, usually violently, within the dream to find myself having to fight for my life!
Sometimes I’m not always so active in the war like dreams, sometimes there are vast lengths of conversation in a language I don’t understand, yet speak perfectly … Plots drawn up again a faceless enemy.
I never feel distressed upon awakening, I can sometimes grasp lingering fragments of the dreams as they dash quickly from my thoughts, replaced by mundane needs to fall into an early morning routine. Sometimes I find myself feel exhilarated, especially if there has been a battle… But this never lasts long into the waking world and then the dystopian realm within my mind is forgotten until the next dream…
Sometimes, if I am really tired, or just slip from concentration, I have these little slips, like visions or flashbacks into the dreamscape, even when awake…
I expect a dream analysis, would be quite fascinating (if I believed in such things) but this isn’t a recurring dream, it’s just that all my dreams are in the same world, that realm within my mind, where I can only find, at times, this overlaps reality…
Tatterhood 