Dear Diary…

*Personal Blog*

I know I’m not in a good place, when anything I start writing begins with ‘Dear Diary’ …
It’s like my safety blanket,  this is where I need to pour forth my soul and if you are not interested, please return when my writers block has scooted away and I feel more human again… I hereby apologise in advance for a little self indulgent emotional drama…

On Wednesday 7th June,  this week just gone, this day should have been Mum’s birthday. I suppose it still is her birthday in a way…

It has been six months since I lost my Mother and I am stillI unable to cry, I refuse to talk about her death in detail to anyone,  I hardly ever talk about the slow dwindling decline I witnessed throughout the duration of 2016. Apart from a few scattered blogs, where I feel safe writing,  yet only ever hinting,  skipping around the surface of details with no desire to elaborate. I find myself carrying a whole years worth of pain and suffering,  totally unspoken.

Upon days, like birthdays,  these surface,  they rob me of my sleep and gnaw away at my thoughts… I want to pour my heart out and all I say is “I’m fine”
It’s nothing,  it’s hormones,  the full moon, wrong time of the month, headache,  my knee is troubling me… all the various bull shit excuses I can lean on without having to explain the truth behind tear less eyes…

I think I’m honestly struggling and I don’t know how to reach out or who to reach out too and there again… what would I say?
There are no details here! There are no haunting memories laid bare.
Just empty words and an aching heart…

Maybe it is simply hormones and I’m feeling grotty… I feel stuck in a cycle of inactivity because I can’t move forward… trouble is,  I don’t know how to…

So Wednesday has been and gone, with respectful passing thoughts.
I keep myself so busy that I just don’t give myself time to think. 
Today I utterly crashed out,  I have lost all spoons and fell asleep during the day  (unheard of for me) and my knee really does hurt and my tummy ache is quite real.

So is the pain in my heart…

Thank you for taking the time to read my words, if you have got this far, please allow me to reassure you that I am quite alright  (mostly) I just really needed some space and time to pour my hurt into words… and…

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Anne Harrison 10.06.17

Broken Words

 

you can stare at the screen for as long as you like and still it remains blank…

 

the words are there

you know they are there

they have been running around your thoughts for days

you can picture the scene

hear the voices of your characters

they push into your dreams

they play in your daydreams

lingering on a long bus ride

 

but

 

sat before the screen

the words flee

the scene fades

words slip from your fingers

their voices silent

everything is distracting

focus scattered

 

sit

 

i have an hour

i had an hour

time dwindles

still i stare at the keys before me

qwerty mocking me

another lunchtime escaping creation

 

confused

 

even non fiction is fuddled

a change of direction

failed

im still sitting here

still sighing hard

 

watch

 

half my time is lost

and these words

are all i have

my fiend

 

im using the delete key more than i care too

words are written

then deleted

gone

 

i know the scene is there

i know what happens next

i know what i want to write

i know ill be on twitter instead

 

giphy

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Anne Harrison 09.06.17

 

 

 

 

 

 

Questioning my Confidence 

I am feeling lost a little unfocused. 

I see all that accumulates upon my ever growing to-do list 📃 and bury my head.  

I know exactly what I want to do in order to do what I want to do 

But I’m frozen from action 

I sit… Lost… 

I bury myself in chores 

I invent excuses 

I know I can do this,  so why can’t I start?  

I’m frustrated,  sat in class I’ve not studied. It’s always one day,  next day, next week,  month… Year… Never… 

How can I let myself down? How can I discard my dreams?  Lost in an endless circle of scrolling,  getting annoyed at myself for being frozen. 

The inability to start is clouded by a fog of insecurity.  

And I end up questioning my Confidence 
Anne Harrison 30.05.17

Beyond Writing

Personal Blog, art musings …

I’ve actually found a little time today and earlier on in the week to dust off my old paint brushes and pick up where I left off earlier this year with a series of abstract paintings. The joy of waiting so long between building up the stages of the paintings is that I can drastically change the whole appearance of the work.

By that I mean I’ve been cutting up a lot of what I’ve done and rearranging by weaving the designs together, creating checkboard patterns of various colours and textures… in theory… because in reality I really haven’t got a clue what I’m doing most of time, actually, all of the time. You see, I’m no artist, I don’t even pretend to be,  I can’t draw and I simply mess around with paint, acrylics and watercolours.

I’m in love with texture and colours, patterns and shades.  I adore various mediums and despite not having a clue what I’m supposed to be doing. I tend to make a glorious mess.

Among  my passions I delight in visiting art galleries… just as music/novels/movies… I do not hold a singular genre in favour. Preferring to explore many known (and unknown) artists alike. Travelling to London and Liverpool to explore exhibitions. I’m inspired,  though I lack any skill or talent. I paint, like I write  (or sing) not because I’m any good, but because I simply love too…

Having no burning desire to be something I’m not really gives me the freedom to enjoy what I do for my own pleasure… if nothing else I’ve made a glorious mess and had fun doing so…

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Anne Harrison  29.05.17

Wednesday Wonderings

 

This is me Today

Compliments are a pleasant surprise, I am humbled when I get a lovely message from someone saying how much they have enjoyed reading my work. It doesn’t happen very often and I don’t fish for comments. I just write because I love to write. I already know that it is far from perfect and it’s not destined to be anything more than scribbles on a blog. Because I write for fun, not for fortune, not for fame.

I have a little following here, which is very comfortable, these are my invisible audience, my friends, those I address freely without fear of judgement, for this is my safe haven, my corner of the internet where I can discuss personal thoughts along side fiction and if you’re really unlucky, my dreadful poetry.

Thankfully I have had some lovely comments from friends and strangers alike, which encourage my words, I’m inspired to write and my silly little story flows freely from my mind to the screen, my fingers carefully finding the right letters on the keyboard to create the words I’m thinking… It’s all a weird kinda magic if you think about it…

I wonder how far my words travel, I wonder what inspired people to follow my blog, I wonder a lot… I know that there are countless other writers out there in cyberspace, all seeking an audience, most far superior to my own humble attempts. I read plenty of other blogs with sincere admiration this casts doubt upon my own wild hieroglyphics. I badly need to edit, yet because I write straight from my thoughts, the whole editing process kinda gets sorely neglected. I am wordy, overly wordy, but inspired by Lovecraft (among others) I adore collecting beautiful rolling words and long expressive sentences. The words are there to be used after all..

My Self Doubt is born from a fear of judgement, it follows me throughout various aspects of my life (a significant example is my weight) my self doubt craves approval and security, pacified self doubt is transformed into peace of mind and all this can be turned around by a few kind words… there is so much power in words, they can destroy or they can elate.

I think it’s important to be kind with words to others, for you never know what is hidden under the surface and how the right words might just clear their own clouds of self doubt and ignite smiles…

Maybe one day I’ll face the dreaded editing? There again, maybe that’s not my ultimate goal and I shouldn’t worry so much over what I wonder?

A few ponderings over my lunch-break today to share with you.

 

Love Anne 17.05.17

There’s nothing so cruel as memory

*Person Musings*

 

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?

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Anne Harrison 15.05.17

A whole lotta words

On 26.09.16 I reposted a short story on my blog, on Friday  I wrote part 75, bringing current events to a comfortable  (current) conclusion… With each post being between 300 – 500+ words… that’s a whole lotta words in 9 months… I fell in love with writing at university, yet at the same time the course also shifted my perspective on publishing. I decided that there was no way I could ever be a published author. So I decided a blog was the perfect outlet for my silly little tale, my outrageously terrible poetry and most of all, my blog became my safe haven, to express myself on matters such as overcoming depression to coping with watching my Mother slowly die… Here was my freedom of expression,  where I didn’t need to delete posts because of trolls. My story is fantasy based, has Dragons… nope it’s not influenced by GoT (even if there is an eyeball scene) instead I’m heavily inspired my Michael Moorcock/Anne Rice… I don’t have a hero, my main protagonists were killed really early… oops… My next stage is to jump 14 years ahead… with possibly a few significant scenes before then to include… Ironically, I still personally prefer poetry, but I follow so many wonderful poetry blogs, my words are dumbed into silence. I think, I would like to use the space to explore my adventures, to put my experiences into words, but my characters won’t shut up and demand my attention. I’m taking a little rest from writing, I’m still staggered I’ve wrote so much in just 9 months… maybe this year I’ll actually achieve http://nanowrimo.org