Friday, 31 October 2014

Halloween Night answers

I have it!
Ten minutes quiet solitude in the backyard, not on my wall which has this year been destroyed but on a new stone that is to become home to my writers troubles, there is near the bottom of the garden a few stone steps that are well hidden by a bush when one is sat down on the step concealed from the house, almost not there at all if you don't move which is how I like it. Under our largest tree which offers a good deal of coverage from the elements. I am surprised actually that I never thought to take up this spot as my own before now.

Sat in the not yet darkness of Halloween night, with my black cat 'Dust' curling himself artfully around my leg-most appropriate I thought, I have reached an answer to my new book series. It only took ten minutes. A few rattling leaves, one which fell from a branch above and landed in my hair which was inspiring in itself, unusually warm, wonderfully warm with a cool breeze. For a moment I trailed from one thought to another of: Why wasn't it this warm at that damn party I gave, it's been two Halloweens since then and both have mocked the year I tried to throw a party. I decided quickly I did not want to think too long about that night or that time of life at all really and threw myself back into the moment of here and now. The leaves on the steps around me, gorgeously golden, I've always entertained thoughts of magical fairies invisible to our eyes touching every one and painting the trees those colours. Tinkerbell was always a favourite of mine. So there it is...Autumn, magic, seasons. More than one. A season for each girl, and when everything goes to pot they are the chosen four. That's how they're connected. There's where the link lies.

Excellent. I have my answer. I always get my answer out here. I stand up lifting the cat with me in one arm and brushing off the dust from my jeans with the other and I carry the cat into the house with me feeling much happier than when I walked out.

Things will turn out alright in the end. Because I still have ideas, and answers and that means I'm fine.

Halloween Poem

So it's Halloween again
Can only mean one thing
Little buggers at your door
and Christmas will soon begin
Scary movies on ITV
ghosts rattling within
Teens in graveyards drinking WKD
While Asda has half price on Mr Kipling!
So wrap up warm, lock your door.
Don't mix the dead with the living.

Wednesday, 29 October 2014

Are we more than we are? Thoughts about God.

It's at times like this that I feel that God is testing me, testing my strengths and watching how I cope with trials of life. Then I remind myself that I am not inclined to believe in God. I like the idea of the Lord but I am much more a Darwinist than a creationist. Then I think, it's hard not to believe in God in the moments, hours and weeks when you doubt yourself and your situation because suddenly you find that the faith you are losing in everything around yourself has to go somewhere. It cannot just linger around like a ghost, so it aims for that mythical Once Upon a Childhood when you used to kneel on your bed and pray to a brass cross holding Jesus Christ. -Perhaps this doesn't relate to anyone else but this is me. (Sometimes, like now, for an inexplicable reason I wish I hadn't sold that cross at the car-boot sale, telling my mother I had 'outgrown' it.)

I am not a worthy subject of any faith, I don't claim to be anything other than 'undecided' but in my own head, at times of personal strife, I still think about God, and right now I am wondering: Am I simply looking for someone to blame for the trials I am enduring, looking for a reason as to why I am in this situation, just not accepting that bad luck happens for no damn reason?
OR am I truly more a believer than I like to admit and a voice inside me, either the voice of God or my own soul which is somehow connected to a bigger picture, is reminding me to stay strong because this is not for nothing. It is for a bigger purpose.

That's what I'm sure we all wonder at some point isn't it?
Are we more than we are?
Were we ever more than we are? Can we just not remember? Or have we not realised yet?

Common Cold poem

For years my sworn enemy, The Common Cold and I have been waging a terrible war with each other each year when the leaves turn golden and the wind becomes chilly. Usually I keep myself well guarded and put up a damn good defence but this year the bastard has taken me off guard.

So you've conquered me again have you?
crept up upon me in the night
I never saw you coming
Couldn't put up a fight.
Usually such a good defence
each year when the leaves turn brown
but suddenly you've taken me off guard
run me down into the ground
Headache and runny nose
you laugh at my blotchy face
red nosed and germ infested
you jeer at my disgrace
so early in the year, before the leaves are properly gold
You Bastard how you've overrun me.
Damn you...The Common Cold.

Monday, 27 October 2014

Song draft: Who You Are

'Who You Are' or 'Bright Light'
Song draft.
I'm not much of a song writer and god help me I can't hold a note, but I gave this a go.
I can see it being made right by Georgia Florida Line.

When you're kicked down in the dirt
and they kick you again for good measure
don't stay down on the ground
though I know it hurts
take another strike,
because at least then when you die
you'll know what it is to feel alive

You know you're a light
a bright light inside
Something that feels right
You've come so far
but one day soon, everyone's gonna know who you are
(who you are, who you are)

The days gonna come when you have to fight
might as well be today
so stand up this time
when they kick you down
when they hurt your pride
remember you're a bright light
stand yourself up this time

[chorus x1]

Having a bit of a rant

Getting awfully fed up of checking my emails twice, three times...eight times daily and seeing the same blank screen staring back at me like the Magic Mirror declaring silently "You are clearly not the fairest of them all"
I do not want to face Christmas which is crawling out from under the bed like an old sock I'd rather throw away than consider wearing again. -Check out the similes I'm busting out here, I guess the more downtrodden you feel in the real world the more the creative energy in the land of imagination flows.
Days like today I wonder if I didn't have the imagination I am gifted with and the urge to write would I go half mad, then I admit that I pretty much am half mad as I feel more inclined to speak through ink to a piece of paper than to strike up a conversation with most people in the world around me. Then I think I'm not mad, the people around me with noses stuck in glass screens but boasting that they have brilliant lives are mad. I canter off point....if I didn't have this desperation inside to write, days like today would eat me alive.

When someone makes you feel pointless, it's crucial in order to keep your very core alive that you take those moments, chew them up and spit them out before telling yourself what you are worth. It's the people that can't remember, or can't see who they are that end up falling into the pit of darkness made up of the words of others. I say it so often to myself I guess because I rarely, if ever hear anyone else say it...I have a bright light inside of me, and I know I am meant for a greater existence.
 I know everyone carries psychological hang-ups from childhood and school but so often I feel myself slipping back into that dirty damp place full of self esteem issues and I can see that young girl, confidence worn down by everyone even my closest friends who I am delighted to say don't feature in my life anymore, when the only thing that made me feel good was to sit alone and write. As I have always done. As I do now. I have to force myself to keep from tumbling over the edge of that line, to feeling like I am still that girl. I. Am. Not.

I am a bright light. I know who I am.

Friday, 24 October 2014

Urghh. Arthritis.

With still no news on a steady job I have started writing my Fairytale Series. The least I can do in the current situation is put more faith and dedication into my books and hope for the best. I've got a hot water bottle pressed behind me cushioning my aching back where Arthritis is threatening to curl up in the little joints of my spine and stay there. I'm dosed up on tablets trying to bring swelling down and so far the pain relief has not kicked in, so the hot water bottle is at work slowly reducing the pain. if I don't move too much it's not so bad. I can use my fingers to type at least, but if this pain doesn't ease up by tonight my plans to do some painting will be put on hold.

Wednesday, 22 October 2014

Raindrops in a Cold Cup of Tea

Raindrops in a cold cup of tea
A few spiteful raindrops slip down
and spit into a cold cup of tea.
The china: thin and pretty
Chinks like a glass slipper on a marble step
Disrupting the week long silence
The party is long over.
No one’s collected in the plates
The table still laid
Is laden with uneaten cake.
 A snail crawls up a table leg
As if he might see where they’ve gone
And unseen, creeping in, is a setting green mould
About to be washed away by rain
That dribbles into half-drunk cups of tea,
Now gone cold.

Poem about Connie

It's too cold in these four walls to concentrate on my book. It's pissing me off because I have ideas I need to get down but I keep getting distracted by the chill. It's harder to concentrate here anyway, I feel like I'm sat here awkwardly in a room that is frozen in the past while I have moved forwards. The simple truth of the matter is I just don't belong here anymore. I could light candles and cast an attractive illusion of comfort over the place but it will be a lie.

Nights like this I just miss Connie.

Never before has there been such a place
so wonderfully simple
with it's welcome embrace
Four walls unlike those of my cage
it's almost, nearly, sort of Home
With all it's faults and creaking ghost
the closest thing to it that I've ever known
As if some inner heart beats within
and when away, only half of me seems to live
I miss you most on nights like this
because Connie is where my heart is.

Sunday, 19 October 2014

The Mad Hatter

Weekend art work: Came up with my version of the Mad Hatter who will be a character featuring in my new book series, Steampunk Inspired with the freaky goggles and robotic animals including The March Hare. Had some great ideas for the character I'm going to write so I hope everyone likes the illustration of him.


(In progress)


(Close up of robotic Steampunk inspired animals including The March Hare)

Friday, 17 October 2014

The Christmas Boots

It's happened again, that moment of utter overwhelming brilliance. They're red, and they look like Santa's coat cut and sewn into the most beautiful perfect pair of boots. The elves of the workshop could have made these. They were practically designed for the Spirit of Christmas. Medium height, tight, the lining wrapped in cream fur and the exterior made from suede. They have a heel I could manage, and I can already see them matched against twenty autumn/winter outfits. I'd need a red jumper, and a red coat or a red poncho, and a ribbon, and creamy wooly knits, or snowwhite fleece. I NEED these boots!

Some time later...

I hate my feet. People who are shorter than 5.9 and wish they were tall and talk about it often...I hate you. Ok bit strong, but you cannot find nice shoes in your size, you end up bulldozing innocent people in Primark when new stock arrives because they only ever have 2 pairs of size 8's available EVER! You're always conscious that if you wear heels people think you're abnormal, you hear this phrase often: "Blimey, you're tall ay ya?", men don't find you attractive or they d...o but they say phrases like this "I'd fancy you if you weren't so tall" OR "This girl you're setting me up she errr as tall as you?" (insert awkward face), your feet always look overly big to you no matter what, you buy shoes you don't even like just because "they fit, omg they fit!" AND the beautiful Red Christmas boots that are on special offer that are murder worthy, must have ARE NOT AVAILABLE IN YOUR SIZE! Urghhhh! ...Rant over. I feel slightly less angry, I am going to play my tiny violin now.


Writing one of my new books and I'm bored of it already. I told myself I'd only do ONE chick lit because I had that idea in my head but now I've started another because 1.) It appeals to a certain audience that I can reach, and 2.) I have developed a few new ideas. But I just don't find this sort of thing that interesting myself. I have another idea for a series that I'm really excited about, it will take longer to write and I want it illustrated and perfect, it's right up my street and I think until I have it out of my system I won't be able to focus on these other stories.

I'm going to postpone these chick lit's I've started and make a solid attempt at getting my teeth into the Fantasy genre. That's where my own interest and passion lies. Yes I've decided. I'm going to take myself down this route. For now everything else is on standby.

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

Arthritis hurting.

It's bloody freezing in here. Not so cold yet as to see my breath crystallising in front of my lips (which I assure you this room has been in the past) but freezing none the less. Freezing so I am hunched over my hot water bottle wrapped in a thick jumper and jeans. I got drenched in the rain the last few days and now I'm paying the price for the wretched weather. My arthritis hasn't just creaked it's full on crunched and cramped itself into a ball of pain. My toes, knees, shoulders, ankles my wrists and my fingers. It's the fingers that bothers me the most. I'm used to everything else.

My knees were the first thing to give way when I was little, my shoulders were much later when I was in high school, but my hands have only been for the last few years. The first time I cried, clasping one crunched up hand in the other unable to deal with the sudden pain and afterwards the insistent ache. I remember the first time my hands curled up into a frozen state of agony as if it happened just minutes ago, I'm still not used to it. They're not screaming now, just aching, I can still type. Not so much for holding a pen or pencil for very long but I can type.

I suppose I ought to start a course of tablets tomorrow. Take a couple of weeks before they work their way into my system and take the swelling and pain down anyway. Winter's not even started. This is lousy. All I want to do is curl up in the warm and eat.

Monday, 13 October 2014

Pencil Skirt day-continued

Nothing to boil the kettle for. A bit of a waste of time if I'm perfectly honest. Let's just leave it there.
Something is going to happen. I keep telling myself it's going to work out soon.
I think I'm getting chubby. I'm too down about this Pencil Skirt shit to really focus on my weight right now. Maybe I'll just get fat over Christmas and sort it out afterwards.
Wish I wasn't so hungry, but my god I'm starving. I eat when I'm sad, that's the worst way to be.

I have yet another Pencil Skirt day scheduled for tomorrow, hoisting myself up on that lifeline I mentioned earlier. Coffee with Two Sugars. Maybe that will work out. Perhaps I'll manage to climb up onto that life line after all and I'll be a Falcon. A Falcon not flying anywhere but with the beginnings of wings none the less. That would be something at least.

Another Pencil Skirt day

  I have another pencil skirt day...I'm so certain of my cards and what they read that I'm clinging to the hope that they are right and something will come of this month. If this new pencil skirt opportunity is the triumph I predicted for after the disappointment then please let me know soon. Disappointment is better than waiting at any rate.

Friday, 10 October 2014

Coffee with Two sugars

Because I’m that sort of person I have been making a round of tea every morning, because making tea when the weathers cold is sort of my kind of thing. Well Coffee with Two Sugars turns out to be someone important and seeing my situation he might be throwing me a lifeline. I can’t blag my way through this, this all depends on an ability to demonstrate dedication and quick learning, I need to be competent I can’t just pretend to be.

 Its generous and considerate of Coffee with Two Sugars to throw me this life line, the only question is...Will I be able to catch it and drag myself up? and if so, how long will I stay aboard the ship? It’s not unlikely I’ll end up overboard again, but let’s not pretend that attempting to catch and climb that lifeline doesn’t fill me with nerves. I am nervous. Because I damn well need this.

Wednesday, 8 October 2014

Lost. Poem.

Lost, lost a long way from home?
lost in the uncertainty, the blackout of the unknown
the lights have turned off,
the curtains have closed
and now you stand in the dark
They'd say you're lost I suppose
and you're alone.

Tuesday, 7 October 2014


I mentioned a few days ago that I would appreciate knowing if I had my foot in the door or not...turns out I don't. So that's that I suppose. I shall finish the week and put it down as another experience. That's all I seem to have so far: experiences, which are all well and good but experiencing something is not the same as living it. I need to live.

I knew in myself this 'opportunity' wouldn't go where I needed it to because I just had one of those feelings, I drew my Tarot cards and read that dissapointment was enevitable and I believe the cards, they prepare me and now it's come to pass. I can't pretend I'm not slightly crushed because I am, but I know I was excellent, I know I put 100% in and I excelled. If they had the finances to open the door I would have been accepted, IF they intended on opening the door at all in the first place. It's a difficult one to judge.

I walked home and it rained lightly most of the way. Typical.
I headed through the lane that runs alongside my four walls and had forgotten in my depressed reverie that rain makes this little road very muddy and littered with huge puddles some so deep that you can't see through the dusty water to the bottom. I was reminded of Grace, I was reminded of that time some years ago I tried it; I jumped into a puddle in a childish attempt at escape. I didn't jump into a puddle this time, but all the slow walk between those puddles I thought about Grace and how many trials I might face in my life when already they're mounting up and kicking me down every chance they get. I wasn't in the best of moods.

I pictured Grace standing there at the other end of the lane, in all her fiery glory and I thought: "how long is it going to take before I get there?" I was so utterly miserable and I felt that thickness on the back of my tongue and the threat of tears, just the threat, just the sting. I watched Grace look back over her shoulder at me, as if to ask if I were going to linger in the rain much longer feeling sorry for myself? I took a breath, I composed myself, and I caught up with Grace at the end of the lane, rounded the corner and into those four walls thinking:
My imagination is the only wonderful thing about me, and it's all I truly have.

Thursday, 2 October 2014

Cheese Toastie

There are a lot of things I hate and dislike, I'd say falling into the hate list has got to be that I don't have a cheese toastie maker anymore. :-( I really like cheese toasties, and I miss having them often. I wish I could afford a new machine, when I become financially secure I'm going to buy a new toastie machine. And a years supply of good quality razors...because I also hate cutting my legs with the cheap ones.

Wednesday, 1 October 2014

Missing Pidgin

I miss Pidgin. It's been less than a month but right now things are happening, or not happening I'm not sure yet. It's that uncertainty that's making me want a catch up with a hot refill drink in the Lakeside. There's not exactly anything you can't write down in an email but its not the same, I can hear our voices through the words and I can laugh and enjoy the conversation as if we really are in the same room but the presence isn't there and I wish it was. Just because big things are either going to happen or I'm going to be thoroughly let down and in either case Pidgins not here to see me through them. I'm sure I'll feel back to normal in the morning. But right now I miss my friend.

Opportunity. Thinking

Feeling hormonal, there's no reason for this! Perhaps it's just because a lot is going on right now, there's a lot of uncertainty in the air and I'm doing such a brilliant job of not letting it overwhelm me before I know where I stand.

I'd appreciate knowing where my near future lies, I'd appreciate a paycheque...I'd love to feel a little bit of money in my hand, I'd love to know I could buy a washing machine because needless to say that issue still hasn't been resolved and lugging bags of laundry to my brothers houses is growing terribly tedious and humiliating. It's going to be a little over two more weeks before I know whether my foot is in the door or not. The thing is no matter what else I might think or say, genuinely and rooted deep down where I am trying to keep a door closed...I really want this. I want to win, to achieve this because it's one of the only things that's come my way in a while.

The main reason I want this is because if I do succeed I will know for the rest of my life that my first foot in the doorway of life was achieved on my own, by my own means, and I did it all by myself. I didn't have a finger pointed for me in the right direction, no connections, no help. I had no relative holding out a helping hand, no one opened the door for me, or helped me through. I did it all by myself.
I searched, found, pursued, pushed, excelled, excelled again, worked, proved myself and then came out with a winning hand. If I succeed. I don't want to think about it too much, I'm putting it on here and then walking away from these thoughts because I admit I do want this, and I am only admitting it here. Now I am going to bed and I shall say no more on the subject until there is something to say.

Friday dreaming

Here in this room it's become awfully lonely. This isn't my room anymore, it's not my space. Over time this room has become nothing but a room in which to go to sleep and wake up in during week days. I feel no attachment anymore. Every evening I have to spend here, though its infrequent just depresses me, and I miss Connie. I can't wait until Friday, Friday has become my most favourite day. My favourite day used to be a Thursday, but now its Friday :-)