If you don’t post it on social media – did it even happen?
I have had a long, tiring, yet tremendous day. Seen some unique items and iconic cars. Casually strolled past historic landmarks and explored hidden spaces.
I have taken so many photos, walked 18,000 steps, travelled to the capital and back…
…yet the only image that graced any social media platform was a stunning piece of street art. So, is it ironic that I choose to write about my adventure, without actually, technically, writing about my adventure?
I put my phone away today, turned it off and slipped it to the bottom of my bag. I wanted to walk with my hands free, I wanted to admire the towering skyline, the architecture, the world above and free from a small glowing screen. I wanted to absorb my surroundings, not fight with constant distractions.
However, during my technology free time, I couldn’t fail to notice just how many people are glued to their phones. Neck bowed in what really looks like a painful position, grinning taking selfies, or ranting loudly to someone else.
The air is a buzz with hashtags and likes or 26 photos uploaded of the same meal. Check in at each location…. Got to let the world know, got to fish for those 💖 😊👍
I think I enjoyed my day more without needing to document every detail, taking the time to put my phone away, that’s like committing the highest form of rebellion and I enjoyed rebelling!
I actually really very nearly asked Google ‘how to relax’
All my chores are up to date, laundry, cleaning and the unpleasant task of doing the loo! (a weekly must on boat life) I don’t need to go shopping. It’s raining, so I can’t decorate outside. I could carry on with the sanding and varnishing inside. I could…
Or I could try something unique for me… Relaxing…
Chill out, without being exhausted. Nibble crisps, without feeling guilty.
Watch a movie from beginning to end without jumping up every few scenes to do something (that usually could wait) Even the cats are out!
So how do I relax?
I have the whole day to myself, for myself. Which is unique, I feel happy about this fact instead of frustrated. I might even try this ‘binge watching’ thingy… I brought the dvd box set of Taboo weeks ago and not had the time to watch a single episode yet… That could be a good way to relax…
I wonder why I find it so hard to do nothing?
Why I’m always filling my life with ‘things to do’
Some would say that I’m trying to hide from issues.
In reality, the truth is far more simple.
I feel that I have already wasted too much of my life in front of the ‘Simpsons’ and channel hopping for hours, throwing wine down my neck to relieve the boredom of an unhappy life.
I have watched my Grandmother and then in turn my Mother both become glued to the tube, both becoming reclusive, agoraphobic and angry at a world, they refused to venture out into.
I have wasted too many (depressed) hours, crippled with the inability to move physically, locked inside my mind. These are the remnants of my old life, who I used to be.
I am so busy, I fill days with adventures, with work, with chores, I keep myself busy because I feel like I have wasted enough of my life already.
So to relax, to have a day to myself, for myself is a day to be treasured. For I need to learn that these are important too that I am allowed down time… I need down time, or I burn out and sleep for a whole day, that’s not a pretty sight!
So here I am, writing to relax, pondering over how I can enjoy my day (guilt free) before my next adventure tomorrow morning…
… Found in an old note book, I wanted to breathe life back into words which touch my soul and spark the imagination…
Basically collected from Movies and Music, with perhaps a single Political Quote among the ridiculous and the fantastic. From single lines, to whole speeches.
Words are magic without the rituals. They can inspire, destroy, cast seeds of infesting doubt, lift spirits, mend broken hearts and instigate infectious laughter.
Whether they emerge from films, lyrics or great minds, inspiration can emerge from anywhere, even a public toilet in London! Where I once read an interesting snippet of graffiti… ‘Happiness does rely on the absence of problems’ …
The Viking Prayer
“Lo, there do I see my father.
Lo, there do I see my mother,
and my sisters, and my brothers.
Lo, there do I see the line of my people,
Back to the beginning!
Lo, they do call to me.
They bid me take my place among them,
In the halls of Valhalla!
Where the brave may live forever!”
“So it’s Rorschach and Prozac and everything is groovy”
In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valourous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition! The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it’s my very good honour to meet you and you may call me V.”
“Just paint your face” the shadows smile
If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.
Who is this great burdensome slavering dog-thing that mediocres my every thought?
I feel like a vacuum cleaner, a complete sucker, it’s fucked up and he is a fucker
But what an enormous and encyclopaedic brain
I call upon the author to explain
I thought I would save the best (and the longest) till last…
I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be an emperor. That’s not my business. I don’t want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone – if possible – Jew, Gentile – black man – white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness – not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone. And the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way.
Greed has poisoned men’s souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost….
The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men – cries out for universal brotherhood – for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world – millions of despairing men, women, and little children – victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people.
To those who can hear me, I say – do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed – the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish. …..
Soldiers! don’t give yourselves to brutes – men who despise you – enslave you – who regiment your lives – tell you what to do – what to think and what to feel! Who drill you – diet you – treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don’t give yourselves to these unnatural men – machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts! You don’t hate! Only the unloved hate – the unloved and the unnatural! Soldiers! Don’t fight for slavery! Fight for liberty!
In the 17th Chapter of St Luke it is written: “the Kingdom of God is within man” – not one man nor a group of men, but in all men! In you! You, the people have the power – the power to create machines. The power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure.
Then – in the name of democracy – let us use that power – let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world – a decent world that will give men a chance to work – that will give youth a future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power. But they lie! They do not fulfil that promise. They never will!
Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people! Now let us fight to fulfil that promise! Let us fight to free the world – to do away with national barriers – to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men’s happiness. Soldiers! in the name of democracy, let us all unite!
^this little word is important… it means this is a diary entry, it is not fiction^
I write a little personal shit at times because I follow an interesting theory that ‘Writing about emotions may ease stress and trauma’ it means, when I have a bad day (which are thankfully few and far between) I write. I pour my heart, my emotions and my pain down upon *my* page.
I don’t even go into detail, I skirt around subjects which haunt me. I use words to free my mind without having to trouble anyone. I like this freedom, I value this ability to have this page for self expression.
I have chosen to focus on my Poetry lately, this was a proud moment in my life and because I feared being seen as big-headed, it took months to choose to share the whole assignment. This also gave me a short break from my fiction and gave me a little time to reflect upon how I use this blog for my scattering of ‘diary’ entries.
Feeling unable to express yourself, when you have already established a good mental outlet for bad days, is utterly crippling. Like feeling caged up inside your mind, because my thoughts torture me with guilt about letting free emotions upon my page…
… why should I feel guilty?
Why should I give up something which helps lifts the lid on painful memories, it’s unhealthy to cage words, it’s such a relief at times to pour my heart out into words…
This is my freedom, this is my self expression, this is not a ‘woe-is-me’ this is where I put my hurt, so it can’t hurt me.
Through my words, through my blog, I am free!
If you see any blog marked *Personal* you are hereby also free to choose to read my words or not, but I won’t give up using a tool which is of benefit to my mental health.
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…
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…
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.
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?