Wednesday, 27 August 2014

waiting room

As I walked back to Connie from the shop this evening I found myself deep in thought praying. If you won't send me a job at least send me a sign. Just point me in a direction. I think I'm hiding it quite well but I can feel a twist of anxiety the same way a girl will wring her wet hair out, getting tighter and tighter inside. I told myself I wouldn't worry this early on but I am. Jones is unbelievably supportive. In fact he's the only one who isn't getting on my back. I think I'm stressing because time is flying by faster than it's ever done before. If this was just another summer holiday it would be over next week. But it's not a holiday, its a stand-by period. Time is running past me and nothing is changing, nothing is happening. I feel a little bit like I'm in a waiting room holding my ticket but the receptionist calling the numbers out has lost and forgotten mine. How long am I going to sit here until someone notices me? I wish I was 19 again. 19 felt like a great age when I met Jones and my life started getting interesting but I was young enough to make mistakes and still had time to work out what was coming next. At 21 it's a completely different story. Just 2 years changes the outlook on life and the way people look at you. I feel very much under pressure. I know for certain that I do not want to reach 22 and still not have my own place to live. I will hate myself if that happens. Please God don't let that happen. I've done what I promised I would do when I was 11. I went to college, I went to Uni, I got a degree, I've almost published my first book...just give me the one thing I've wanted for the last ten years, I want to get out of these four walls. To do that I need a job. Come on. Just give me a break.


I was more angered on Pidgin's behalf than relieved when we discovered that she cannot go to Africa. On the one hand I felt as if a mysterious being was interfering because I have been fretting inside over the upcoming absence for months, but I truly felt guilty to see her plans fall through the floorboards. After a hurried rush around it is settled that Scotland is to be the plan. Still eight months, still a long absence but at least she's in the UK. At least I can get there. I wasn't at all envious of a trip to Africa. Truth be told the whole thing sounded like a version of hell to me, but Scotland. I'd love to experience that. I am totally jealous of that and I fully intend to get myself up there at least for a weekend to see Pidgin and the highlands.

I'm just glad to report to my own thoughts that at least there's now one less thing for me to be worrying about. Scotland is not Africa, it's practically home. England's cousin. All will be well.

Wednesday, 13 August 2014

Spoilt Rotten. New Laptop

So my blue H.P Laptop Harry Potter finally died. Gave up. Shut down. It had a good run with various repairs and it saw me through uni but now we've called it a day. Brilliantly though, the night my old machine tuckered out was the night my Mr Jones bought me a brand new shiny RED laptop!! A better one, a sexier one. One with separated keys and a smooth sleek touch pad and a slim light weight screen. For a piece of technology it's beautiful. Marking the end of an era. The old blue one was never my personal choice and all its connotations is for the trash, this new red one is like me, it's bright and vivid and as University ends and life in the real world starts I am kitted out with a wonderful new piece of equipment. :-) I am so spoilt. Not silver spoon in mouth spoilt but awesome Christmas day pile of presents, expensive treats and date night spoilt. Cinema to watch my movie spoilt. Cans of pop and making tea spoilt. I have a surprise for you spoilt. :-) I've become a gleeful naughty faced child when I read a message that says I have a surprise for you. And my hands clap together in over the top exaltation. Amazingly this gold and marble pedestal is wonderfully comfortable. :-) haha! I have no intention of climbing down any time soon, and after all I've been put up here so very nicely. :-)

I am so spoilt. :-) I love my new Laptop. Which incidentally I am writing on now. I'm not sure what to name it. I think I shall be very original and call it Red. Like Red riding hood and those erotic passages. Yes. Red it is. I love it. I love how easily it types. the keys are so beautifully spaced. I clickicty click with perfect ease. Ooo I am so spoilt.

Thursday, 7 August 2014


I love my nieces with a love like no other, sort of an unyielding adoration that nothing can tarnish. I love being fun and weird Aunt Sian but I often wonder will my own children one day love me the same as these girls do. I want my own little ones to think I'm fun and weird and enjoy my company. I've decided the first thing I'm going to do when I get a little money is to construct some sort of little presents for them. Trip to the pound shop it will be.

Damp Pillow

I approached that door with an ominous feeling not unfamiliar. I didn't even like that door, I'd never have chosen that glass. Blue for money they said, what money? What a hark! The unfinished attempt of a porch, left for more than ten years yet another example of the disinterested attitude that surrounds this place. Sometimes it's like there's a crushing weight pushing down on me every time the key turns in the lock. These four walls are the most oppressive thing in my life.

I waited until I scrambled into bed and pulled the covers up like a child before an overdue assault of suppressed emotion came gurgling up and I had a little cry. Not for long, just a few minutes of silent sobbing and deep ragged breaths while makeup remains trailed from my eyes. For the first time in a while I wasn't waiting for that text, my mind preoccupied. These four walls and the image of my twelve year old self. I can see her sitting there crying for much longer than I allow myself to now. Writing similar scribbles in a weathered notebook. Nothing really changes until we change it-Is that a quote? It feels like it should be. The tears brought on a headache, it's been quite a while since I've been overwhelmingly upset over these walls. Even though I scrubbed my face with a towel and tucked deeper into bed I still felt a few more quiet tears slide into my pillow and after five minutes had to turn it over to avoid the dampness.
I hate it here. I'd sell half my soul to be somewhere else and never have to come back.

Monday, 4 August 2014


After a year and a half and I still get nervous butterflies when I'm getting ready to see my boyfriend. Throwing on half a dozen outfits to get the right mood and debating if my underwear's suitably enticing just in case. I never imagined one person would make me feel like this so often and unconsciously doing so.

Book Cover paintings

Book Cover Paintings
My illustrations of my characters

Three days

It feels like a hundred years has passed by and it's only been three days. Day one I felt suffocated in my room and took action against the claustrophobia by taking down my feature wall of artwork. The creations made by my nieces I have carefully put away in a folder while my own paintings and drawings lay somewhat carelessly in a heap on the table. The coffee cream wall I've revealed is vast and empty now but for a miniature globe on a nail, my skydive certificate and some distant dream leaflet of Scotland. I regretted the action almost immediately because now a lot of the character in this room has disappeared. The childish elements that lingered have been discarded and if it wasn't for the paper mache alien in the corner you could almost pretend this was the room of a normal adult. I do feel a little more comfortable in the open space. A little.

A full weekend here is like a prison sentence. A headache of outstanding pain gripped me on the second day and I crawled into bed making the room as shaded as possible and attempted sleep at eight O'clock. It's a sign, it's all a sign. The air in these four walls is poison, I have a headache even now. The third day I couldn't  tolerate anymore and I escaped, I spent the day with my sister in law and the evening out with my crew of friends all pushing forward finding their place in the world and even though I still had a raging headache most of the night at least I was with people I could have fun with and not stuck in those four walls suffocating in slight madness.

Tonight I will be back with my Mr Jones and Connie and all will be well. I cannot work when I am bordering on unhappy, and my happiness is measured by time spent with the two loves of my life. This is why my writing was at such a standstill for so long, because I hadn't met him and life was very near sad and pointless. I have written more in the last year and half than I have done since school when I first met Grace. Now my Mr Jones is back I can concentrate on proofreading my first.

Saturday, 2 August 2014


Still with me? What do you think about all this? If you have any ideas you know feel free to throw them out at me...the book? Oh THE Book, that book. Yeah I know, but that's going to take time more time than I have to work my life out. If we get to Christmas and things aren't settled that's when we're going to panic. September?...Yeah there's always September, things always start or stop in September. September's only a month away, if something happens by then it will be a true miracle. Pidgin leaves in September, typical isn't it. Something always happens in September. It's a mark for us. Ok, I'll stop worrying and we'll re-think in September. Summer isn't over yet after all.

Car's out of Gas

So my guidance coach/case worker from the Job Centre has emailed me a very suitable role for me to apply for: Tyre Fitter Vacancy at Mechanics for Us.
If this wasn't so crushing I would be getting a good laugh from such a ridiculous idea. On top of that he also thought recommending a list of apprenticeships requiring an NVQ level 2 in engineering was a good idea. I've graduated with a degree in Writing, by some miracle I trudged through three years of boredom and stand still life and this is what I'm reduced to. Some skinny runt of a loser telling me I'm worth no better than a garage job clearly unsuitable for someone like me. Not that I think women can't work in garages, I'm all for equality but for gods sake I'm sat here typing this with curlers in my hair and I'm looking at my paintings thinking: I'd never ruin my artistic hands by lugging pistons and gear shafts around, fitting tyres and climbing around clumps of metal.

I do keep ticking over various ideas in my mind because the chance of actually getting a library job or heavens above something in publishing well those chances aren't just slim they went down with the Titanic. I have considered what I'm good at in life: I can paint and draw, I can write creatively, I'm good with people and customer service but there's no way in hell I'm spending my life serving customers. I am great with the kids. I can tell a good story. That's all I've got really.

My sister in laws think I should train to be a nursery nurse, which is something I have considered. Its just to do that it means raising the time and money to do the course and then what a waste of a degree. I could have done that after college, I should have done that maybe.

I want my own home, I want to be able to know there's always food in the cupboard. I want central heating that comes on whenever it's cold. Am I asking for too much really? Someone employ me in anything tolerable and I will be the hardest worker you have. I am good at working hard, I'm good at saying Yes. I don't want the last three years to be a waste. I desperately want those who are telling me to apply for any old crap to piss off. I'd like to see them study for three years and it be for nothing. Just breathe, I'm just ranting. I'm not upset not really, I'm not even all that offended. I'm not even lost. I know where I am, I know where I should be. My cars just out of gas that's all and I can't get there on fumes.