Just a thought

A year ago I wrote you a letter. I told you it would be the last one that you would ever receive from me. I remember the pain I felt in my heart as I penned that statement. I had left you reflecting in front of the fire. We had finished our last argument, we had talked about it the last time, options were exhausted and so was I.

My letter was never meant to be so long, but as I sat curled into myself; the emotions that I could not show you fell out and splashed onto the page. I left the letter on the spare bed. No hearts or kisses to illustrate the page, it wasn’t a love letter; it was goodbye and a reminder of the pain you had caused.

I heard you reading it several hours later, your regret echoed with every page turned. We never spoke of that letter and I never got a reply. Sometimes I still want a reply – even now. Sometimes I want to send you another letter, another reminder to stop you from moving on.
I want you to be stuck in a mud full of memories.

Whooooosch!

Everything this week has been rushed. My life has stepped up a gear and I can't slow it down. This post is going to be rushed because although I want to update this blog I have no flipping time. (Flipping is my word for the month, every other word is a flip or flipping) So for a while, I feel that this blog will become my 'ranting space' with very little creativity, not that I think I have any but I like to give it a go - I am in it for the ride.

I realise that I am not making things easy for myself. I can't say no and I can't stop helping people, thus giving myself no flipping time. Seriously though, where is time going?

 

At work I am a cartoon character, with arms buzzing up and down typing, answering the telephone (because no one else flipping bothers) I am up and down like a flipping yo-yo. I don't run this company, I flipping well should do, so why am I having to sort out our fire extinguishers (which have been out of date since 2001!) I am a full marketing department - just me.

At home I have a new kitchen to plan and install. Work hopefully starts tomorrow in which case I need to pack everything up. Then I need to plan plan plan.

I have friends who I want to see and talk to, and with Christmas time looming, lots of people to catch up with. I want to help my friend who has three year old twins and after being amazingly strong for the past year, after finding out her husband was seeing someone else, is now in pieces and unable to cope. I don't know what to do to help, other than offer to babysit so she can go food shopping or walk the dog, I can only do this if I have another 3 hours added to the day.  I think I might put a Christmas hamper together for her - some handmade goodies for her and the little ones. 

Time time time time, flipping time. My dad has offered to buy me lunch today, great! saves me cooking tonight but I have adverts, copy, deadlines, phone calls coming at me from every angle.

Talking of which... better get on.

Rant over.

Mindful times

I am all about being mindful at the moment and exploring new visual treats.

Yesterday, I had another stone posted on the inspirational Handful of Stones blog, reading it this morning has made me hungry!

I also found a title for my new blog, well, in fact it was given to me by my friend Peta. She cooked dinner for me last week, and over a couple of glasses of red wine I chatted to her about this blog and my idea for another, to which the title rolled off her tongue: Pedal to the floor and mindful.

I like it.

I enjoyed my drive to work this morning and being more open to what is taking place - even it it happens every day, it is never the same. I need to be careful though, I did a little too much 'looking up' this morning and nearly hit the curb.

Second thoughts

Is there a name for those few split seconds, when you wake realising that whatever you had been dreaming about, was just that – a dream, and before you remember what is really going on in your life which causes your heart to sink to the pit of your stomach, those few seconds when you have nothing on your mind but feeling of complete peace and contentment.

Why can’t those few seconds be longer?

That moment of realisation that everything is not as it should be or that there is a big task at hand, whether a work presentation or a relationship/friendship problem, is like going too high on a swing and losing your stomach. The heart beats harder, reaching the back of your throat causing short sudden breaths.

The thought of staying under a duvet, hidden from the world is appealing. Why not just crawl under a rock until the storm has passed? Surely not everything has to be addressed and dealt with.

As the cogs begin to turn, there is hope that a new solution may be found, that the night to ‘sleep on it’ has provided an answer. Breathing slows and the stare begins, the wall becomes the visual for the thoughts being churned. Eyes stay open, fixed on a dent in the wall or a flower on the wall paper, it distorts as conversations are rehearsed and responses prepared.

The thirty minutes which pass achieve nothing other than lateness.

Ping!

I have had a light bulb moment. I have been inspired by blogs like this and this. I like how they encourage me to be more observant of my everyday life and how, when you look close enough (or perhaps it is more about being open to look) there is so much more to see.

I take the same route to and from work. I sit in traffic watching other drivers, the expressions on their faces engraved with the impending day or ahead or the relief that a day is over. I don't want to be one of those people - staring out the window at the car ahead, not really seeing what is taking place around me. The drive is monotonous but what I see doesn't have to be. So, once a title comes to me, I will take time to see something new on the drive to or from work each day and post it on a new blog.  Maybe Southampton can be inspiring. If only it could give me the title.

Not enough time in the day

I have a new favourite book, well, one to add to my list. I have just finished Enduring Love by Ian McEwan and I am thinking of turning back to the front and starting again. The story of Joe, Clarissa and Parry has kept me captivated, with a eagerness to turn each page and the sense of panic if I knew I couldn’t squeeze a couple of pages in each day.
The book is so beautifully written with such detail into the characters, their emotions and the balance between love and obsession, the destruction that betrayal leaves and the delicacy of all relationships. I love reading books that make you think and ones that extend my vocabulary.

Talking of which, do the kids of today look up words they don’t know in a dictionary? I think not. My new word for this week is: crepuscular.

Another beautiful book, which I can’t stop looking at is 100 years of Fashion Illustration by Cally Blackman. It is full of gorgeous pictures of the development of fashion and collections from the great couturiers such as Chanel and Christian Dior. The styles of the illustrations cover Art Deco, paintings and computer generated all creating beautiful pieces of art which inspire.

I have never been too interested in fashion design, I don’t follow the catwalks and don’t really know what is in season from one to the next, I just like what I like and wear what I feel like, but this book is something I can get lost in, time after time.

Profile pictures

I see your face
no longer close
your gaze is not mine
it belongs to another
the one by your side
in the place that was mine
she can stay in those shoes
my soul no longer fits
green is not my colour

twisted smiles
the light in your eyes
my heart gulps down
a pang of pain
reminded of being broken
but my happiness prevails
and brings me back to
better times

When I grow up......

This past week I have been reflecting on my school days and the impending stages of adolescence my half sister faces.On Tuesday I listened to her arguing with her dad, she is fourteen years old and much more feisty than I was at that age. The problem is - she doesn’t know when to stop. She bites so quickly at remarks that are said in jest to madden her and shouts at everything before storming out the room in a ’Kevin’ strop. The argument was about how lazy she is, how she spends her day in bed and what a waste her life is. It moves onto the paper round she has quit because she doesn’t want to get up at six in the morning every day for the rest of her life. ( I know that feeling!) My younger brother is laughing, he has reaped the benefits and now earning £20 a week for a paper round consisting of a few papers. When I was fifteen, I had a paper round for the local news which always had to be stuffed with the freebies, making the weight of my round double. I got paid £7 tops for delivering to two big caravan parks. Unlike Louise and Sam, who don’t talk or help each other out, I frequently enlisted the help of my brother Adam to share the load. I remember the day we discovered that one of the caravans, the one furthest away, down the gravel track was inhabited by a witch. We watched her from behind a bush and noted that she had two big pointed ears and always wore black. We didn’t deliver her papers for a couple of weeks until we were told he had to. We dared each other to be the one to put it through the door, sneaking around the caravan so she wouldn’t see us. She did though and she opened the door to accept the paper. I remember being so scared, that was until, we realised that she wasn’t a witch, nor did she have big pointy ears. What she did have, was two large hearing aids that were tapped to her head. Needless to say we ran away laughing and we still chuckle about it now.

On Wednesday, I watched Louise's GCSE dance performance and the rest of the school delivering ‘House Dance’ where groups of friends put together dance routines in aid of their team house. I watched twenty dance routines over two hours and all I thought about, was how glad I am not to be at secondary school again and how, no matter the money, I would never take the opportunity to be twelve to sixteen again. It was interesting to watch and be able to identify the quiet ones, the bullies, the ‘popular’ girls who all the boys fancied, the small geeky girls and the stud of the year.
The actual routines were monotonous, they were all to songs in the Pussycat Doll genre (not sure what that is) with a lot of body popping and jolty movements. A breath of fresh air came with the girl who tap danced to a classic Chicago song unlike the twelve year old that truly believed she was part of the Pussycat Dolls and throughout her routine pouted and provocatively twisted her hair through her fingers whilst bumping and grinding. She got the biggest cheer. I felt sorry for her and what the next few years will have in store.

I have been trying to encourage Louise to find her own identity and install some faith in her that it is ok to be different, but all I get is raised eyebrow and a ‘yeah right’. I see her conforming to what her best friend tells her is right. Last week they went to Thorpe Park and had been given a strict dress code - totally impractical for a theme park and the wet cold weather. I could see the panic in her eyes that she didn’t have the ‘uniform’ to which I told her to be bold - wear red tights not black, shorts instead of a skirt, but my job at convincing her that it would be ok was poor. But on reflection, I don’t think that I would have listened to a peer telling me to be different and stand out, when the rules of the social circle brand you as odd or un-cool.

Now , I couldn’t care less about conforming. If I like something - I wear it, I only hope that I can lead by example and that she will find her identity and be comfortable and confident with who she is. I think we have a long way to go yet and a lot more ‘Kevin’ strops.