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Don’t over think it, don’t think twice, just type. Music in my left ear, birds squawking over head in my right ear. The events of wednesday laying themselves next to my head of thoughts and experiences of my 26 years. Are they piled on top, do they filter down like sand through rocks. Some settling in the crevices in the sunlight, others trickling deeper into the cool dark silence. Long light evenings encourage protracted thought. Like the sun is the energy that feeds the plants, the sun refreshes the mind, forces it to clarify the day before sleep.
It’s a blissful day and I’m all in a new dress. I’m pretty nervous about it as it shows off my paunch a little (also it would be much better if I didn't need to hoik it down every 20 meters!) But it makes me happy and I want everyone to see me in it. I’m all of a flutter because things are always happening that are out of my control. But I love that you just can't tell what is going to happen next. My friend jess taught me that valuable life lesson.
There's a lovely guy sitting near me in the library. It’s strange to think that he might read this one day. If I speak to him, and after a while I let him know this is here, he’ll read it and know that I think he’s lovely. There are words I can type, others I can say. For positive outcomes situations need to be in alignments. I need courage to speak to him, for that I need the situation to arise, and for that I’m waiting. I souldn’t wait, I should make the situation.
Times. Breakfast time, lunch time, tea time, dinner time. Day time, Night time. Good times, bad times? Work time, play time, tidy up times? Past times, present times, future time. Party time, swimming times, lap times, lag times, tick-tock times, winning times, personal best times. Renaissance times, neolithic times. Lost track of time. Dark times, light times, no time at all. time off, time on? Family time, alone time. Question time. Dream time, real time, telling time. Check the time, forget the time. Not enough time. Who’s time, your time, my time, out time. Times up, Time out.
The silent boy grew strong. He was peacefully attentive to his brothers, sisters, his cousins and aunts and uncles. He moved practically unnoticed from babyhood to childhood. His mother and he had a truly special bond. From him she learnt a deep soulfulness that he effortlessly exuded. From her he learnt grace and all the practical processes that would allow him to develop into a young man; cooking, washing and caring for those around him. One blistering hot day, he looked out of the dark hut and saw loping idly through the heat of the day a tall striking man.
In the beginning there was tension and nervousness. Coaxing and fuelling this delicious agitation was Hope. Warm and exciting, Hope brings unlimited possibility. Hope infuses itself with reality to goad on dreams and creativity. In the middle there was tension and nervousness tingeing now with disappointment and joy. Hope has increasingly been tainted by encroaching reality. As ice might slowly work its way from the edge of a lake to the centre, so real events slowly claim and freeze Hope. In the end there was… I’m still in the middle, so broad and deep and choppy like the ocean.
Four years ago today I graduated. Today four years ago today 52 people were killed in terrorist bombings in London (that’s not including the bombers who died, so I suppose you can add another four deaths to that list). This morning I walked past the graduation hall with people lined up outside with their long cloaks and silly hats. This morning I thought of those families who are walking up to the memorial that has been unveiled, to honour their relatives and friends. The world keeps turning. The sun keeps shining. The rain keeps falling. Same same but different.
Dolphins are like dogs of the sea. But how can you trust anything with a large hole in its head? flipper, flipper - faster than lightening. I was worried about what to cook for dinner, but it worked out pretty well – clean bowls all round. I wonder if anyone is typing their one hundred words right now too. How can I make it that there are gaps between my thoughts?
Ummm, Biscuits: Oats 'n' rasins. Did you know Nepal was the only country that doesn’t have a rectangular flag. Or maybe I’m wrong – but I won a biscuit anyway.
I worked out how to make gaps
Well done me (for looking at the bottom of the page and actually seeing the instructions – I wouldn’t win a biscuit for observation!)
I thought I’m missed my chance to finish my 100 words batch – its just not possible to get to t’internet everyday. But that, in itself, is a nice thing. Perhaps I’d like to be a Victorian – just reading and sowing in the evenings, occasionally showing someone my ankle. Oh la la! Gas lights, blamange, scripture and dirt. That’s the Victorians?
Do the BR’s Count
A headache's a brewing after a long week at work. Tomorrow I will shrug off the grime and tedium of my employment and splash – somewhat at length – into the paddling pool of the weekend. It’ll take me and my trusty mushroom wagon four hours to get to the idyll that is Fi-Lee’s – but I know a cold beer, idle chatter and smiles will be there to greet me – bliss. I wish I had a personal DJ to work the music all the way there. Welsh roads demand two hands on the wheel, two eyes on the road.
AA membership one hundred pounds, a new alternator one hundred and forty pounds, fitted and ready to drive away, spending the weekend with my family – priceless.
Arriving at exactly the same time as the guys from Glasgow, a good omen for the brilliant evening that was to follow.
Food all personally prepared with love and fun – eaten in the same spirit.
Rain Rain go away, come again another day. With sunshine and showers we might be sat in, but with a house full of treats and conversations it will not be a trial, quite the opposite – fresh air will be had at some point.
Being in the middle of nowhere is liberating. Waiting for a text isn’t. I could pretend that it’s because of the lack of reception out here in the wilderness of Wales – if I really admit it, it’s because I’m waiting for a text that hasn’t been sent.
Walking along the beach in beautiful sunshine and the sturdy little colourful houses watching from the cliff top was food for my sole. Shoes off, socks off, cold clear sea water splashing up my cankles.
(I wish I didn’t have cankles)
Rum and raisin ice-cream in a cone that didn’t taste of dust.
There is a world class waterfall tucked up behind Devils Bridge. If Carlsberg made waterfalls. It is a fantasy waterfall all green and lush and oozy with vegetation and spray. A rainbow even miraged through the damp noisy air as we stood enthralled by the simplest please nature can offer: truth, untainted and powerful.
The water falls.
The water will still fall tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. The thundering of water pounding on rocks can never be hushed.
Eternally, it does not seek anyone’s approval. It is an incidental act of sublime beauty.
My head hurts, I can’t concentrate, i feel dodgy – was it worth it? Only time will tell. I’m undecided. I’m not going to get ahead of myself. No. It definitely was worth it. Yes. That was a quick turn around. I’m trying to be level headed, but there really is no need. It’s only me I’m talking to, only me who can manage my expectation and only me who will need to get out the proverbial dust pan and brush and pick up the pieces, mop up the spilt milk – so don’t cry.
Life as a car analogy.
I’ve been on my own in the car for a long time. I have the occasional passenger to pass the time, share a journey. I get tired of being the driver. Planning all the turns, choosing all the routes. It would be nice to have someone say ‘turn left here’, ‘let’s go via Gretna’. It might even be nice if some one took the wheel and I could sit in the passenger seat and gaze out of the window. It might even be nice if I could take a nap in the back.
The best people are the ones that bring out the real you, no questions, just you, there stripped.
The worst people are the ones who strip you of your protective veneer and then leave you.
You are naked and alone. That's worst than just being alone. You have to tip toe across the floor and pick up your discarded metaphorical clothes. After liberation clothes cover up the real you again. If only you’d kept something back. Something to cover yourself. They are the worst because they let you take your clothes off and left anyway.
Just enjoy being naked.
This goes out to the hung-over man in the bed. Big tunes in one ear, the hurumph and rustle of an over indulged body struggling in my other ear. Buzz killers forgotten, memories barely serving. A cider baby. This goes out to the hung-over man in the bed. Why does he go to someone else, don’t leave me out of the picture, when I’m the subject of the picture. Don’t discus me without involving me – don’t I get to know. Whatever, I’ll be fine. It’s the Bear and Owl story. He says...
LoveBox - The dog days are over, the doooog days are gone! Or is that dark days? Ha. Dancing and drinking and laughing and queuing… Back to life, back to reality… Was that DataRock or DataBank, all I know is I was loving the red tracksuits – they did NOT ruin my buzz. Blue balloons all tied up and straining in the wind. How did suddenly everyone have them. Magic. A bit of art and a coffee then back on the train north. I think I need a little hang over cry. So that was LoveBox – not to beat around the bush.
The beginning of the week came round too quickly. Monday had potential but also scope for disappointment. With my breath held it went off well. There were even some beautiful bits. Sitting on a curb on an ancient street with the sun all shining down was a quiet but delicious moment shared with a friend. I’m all of a tizzey now. Isn’t everyone, really? Its boggling juggling work, friends, house, study, getting to the right place at the right time, leaving enough time open for unexpected thing, and unexpected people. Better too much than too little to do?
I wish I was a poet
Then I’d write a poem
but I’m not
So this is not going to be a poem, maybe it could just be poetic instead. If I was a poet my words would cleverly rhyme and rhythm. The words would do more than explain or describe they would move, amuse or sadden.
I’d explain the rain (on the windows)
As it settles on the pane (in short interrupted flows).
I’m definitely not a poet. But I can do this –
a spongy apple hippo scrapped his nail on the adoring sand queen - nonsense.
I need coffee to write this. Really I should be working on my dissertation – infinite amounts to do at this stage – so much I don’t even know how much.
I’m not the sort of person who says: I NEED a coffee, but after my one day old cheese and basil pita I have a suspicious taste in my mouth and my eyes are tired because my contacts are old and, well, there is no harm in wanting a coffee at 14.10 in the afternoon. I could do with the fresh air. Off to the stalwart Veggie Café.
Everyone is so jet-set: San Francisco, Lisbon, Mexico City, Rio De Janeiro, Saint Paulo, Paris, Brussels, Edinburgh, Italy (I don’t know where) Novi Sad, Berlin, Nairobi, Zanzibar, Kathmandu…Ha, Chorlton, East Disbury, Trafford, Salford, Altringham, London. Foreign to some, home to others. Home is where, home is what…? Familiar, family…? Places I’ve been have made me me. My feet are itchy but for what and for where and for who. I could get a little house to call my own, a garden and some windows and a bed. Or i could move again and again and again…
Must – write – my – 100 – words… No doubt everyone who has undertaken this seemingly simple process has had doubts about their ability or willingness to complete a ‘batch’. I have struggled to get to a computer, I have waxed and waned in my enthusiasm but I have never not wanted to complete a batch, I will not be beaten. I must not have been beaten else you would not be reading this. The fact that this is accessible to you means that I successfully managed to insert 100 words into a little box for each and every day for one month
The weather has been mental – apocalyptic one might venture to say. Although, then I might be in danger of hyperbole. But I was woken up by the ferocity of the thunder this morning. It was no mere clap – it was an ovation, standing and exuberant. The British preoccupation with weather is in my blood, no point in denying it. I am affected by weather each and everyday. It control how I travel around – by bike, by car, by foot? And it controls how I interact with other people, sunshine brings people out, rain keeps them in. so there you go.
Preoccupations other than the weather, for me at least, at this time at least, are annoyingly and frustratingly relationship related. I let myself down by letting the feelings of other towards me affect my day. I am me, they are they. I should not have such a malleable brain. I should have a brain like a rock – rock brain they will call me. Archaeologist years from now will discover that rock brained people did exist, they weren’t just a myth. But alas rock brainers often die alone and suffer from neck ache (as a result of their heavy heads).
Bullet biting and taking advice does not come easily for me. It is something I should work on. But, a past time such as gnawing on ammunition does not sound like pleasurable life skill. I think I will leave the bullet biting to trained professionals. As for taking advice, this should be done with caution as we all know that we have to learn from our mistakes. Oh, I see a contradiction – I should learn that to avoid mistakes I should take advice. Oh, great, now I have to first actually ask people stuff then follow through with their suggestions.
This one hundred words thing has become a bit of a problem page vent for me – this must stop here. Positive, positive, positive… ommmm. Just five more entries and they all must have a positive glow to them.
Flowers started appearing on my tomato plants, I may yet reap what I sow. Cake was baked and enjoyed by a wide spread of people – it was like Chinese whispers of the baking world. Chats and cake, is there anything better. Yes, there are better things than idle chit-chat and iced treats but simple pleasure. Focus on the achievable.
Four more days… swimming costume bought – no excuses of lack of suitable swimming attire. Owl top bought – no more owl related clothing required. This is the pinnacle of my owl wardrobe. What would be the ultimate owl adornment – an owl tattoo. I could, you know, get a tattoo. No more nakedness, ever, there would always be that area of ink. An owl, a noble symbol – it could be beautiful. Ponder. No more nakedness… it’s a toughie. There is only one person who can help me with this decision and she’s not here. I could surprise her – toot toot.
Fifty two reasons – I wish I could say, but this is not a private musing, or a confessional, it just a back water depositary for people to discipline themselves to write one hundred words a day. But if this was just between me and them I’d start and carry on until I had said a whole pack of reasons. Pyjamas and spoons, laughter and gestures, family and smells, care and gentleness, smooth and rough, high and fast, slow and delicious, mistakes and luck, views and music, silence and adventures, memories and the future. But really it goes without saying.
If I read my entries I hope that I don’t get a negative impression of my little life. The nature of this process makes me introverted. But it looks like I’m going to be successful and achieve my first batch. It has made the month seem long – which can only ever be a good thing. What’s changed – well there are muddles of relationships. These have made me learn about myself, I have pushed myself to address them. People make me, do I make people? I’ve never really thought about it – maybe one day I’ll discover.
Its been wet, windy, sunny and hot. Its been London, Manchester and Wales times two. Its been boys and girls, family and friends. Its been frustrating and blissful, thoughtful and impulsive. Its been new and its been old. Its been delicious and disgusting. Its been scary and boring. So, very much like every other month. But this month has been better because its been so full. I’m standing on the cusp of the July looking into August and I’m nervous, but I’m hopeful. What will have happened this time next month – i'll just to go and see.
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