She looked up at the stars in hope that she would see spec of light dance across the sky. She looked up in hope that she would be able to make a wish. She needed a helping hand, an act of the universe to bring her what she most desired.
She had failed to impress on her own, failed to capture the feeling. All she wanted was to be able to hold that feeling in her arms- to love and nurture, to allow it to grow through the warmth of her soul.
In once last hope, she stood in the darkness, away from the haze of a wide-awake town with her head tilted towards a world of unknown. Her eyes flicking from constellation to constellation, across belts, scales and dippers; looking for an answer, looking for hope.
Friday, 25 June 2010
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
Getting it off my chest
Ever get that feeling where you just want to scream from the top of your lungs and name everyone who has ever hurt or let you down?
I want to do that.
I am not sure whether I am burning out following a very busy start the the year, well actually it is the first half of the year, or whether I am just having a 'moment', but it doesn't feel good.
I was just reading this blog post by Karen, and can totally empathize with the feeling of being a little boat on the big seas. Of late, I have been OK riding the choppy waves, in fact I have enjoyed the buzz and the 'Go Go Go', but all of a sudden, I can see a wave brewing in the distance and I am not quite sure how I am going to ride it or attempt to get over it.
What is stopping me from being able to climb the wave is my past, more specifically, past hurts.
Those that have lied, betrayed me and stamped on my heart and left me with little trust in people, a jealous eye and a barbed-wire fence around my heart.
I know this is a low spot, and maybe all I need is a holiday. It has been almost a year since I had any more than a day off - let alone a decent break. I know that I have taken a nose-dive from where I was three, even two weeks ago and I know I will return to those heights again.
But for now, a little moan and whinge and the acceptance that the past happened and I have to get over it, is all I can do in preparation for the bigger waves.
Oh, and a hug might help.
I was just reading this blog post by Karen, and can totally empathize with the feeling of being a little boat on the big seas. Of late, I have been OK riding the choppy waves, in fact I have enjoyed the buzz and the 'Go Go Go', but all of a sudden, I can see a wave brewing in the distance and I am not quite sure how I am going to ride it or attempt to get over it.
What is stopping me from being able to climb the wave is my past, more specifically, past hurts.
Those that have lied, betrayed me and stamped on my heart and left me with little trust in people, a jealous eye and a barbed-wire fence around my heart.
I know this is a low spot, and maybe all I need is a holiday. It has been almost a year since I had any more than a day off - let alone a decent break. I know that I have taken a nose-dive from where I was three, even two weeks ago and I know I will return to those heights again.
But for now, a little moan and whinge and the acceptance that the past happened and I have to get over it, is all I can do in preparation for the bigger waves.
Oh, and a hug might help.
Saturday, 12 June 2010
And the moral of the story is....
There was only one thing she regretted. She stood thinking about it as rested her iron back on its rest, and turned the shirt.
She didn’t regret marrying so young, nor did she regret the pain and hurt of her first love’s betrayal, for his lies and absence had only made her protect her children more and become the woman she was today.
She had never regretted that she had chosen to be a full-time mum, although at times she did wonder what the thrill of the big smoke and the buzz of the rat race felt like.
She never regretted that she had spent so much time in those early years on her own. Nor did she regret the whirlwind lust, romance and relationship with the man across the road.
She had never once regretted having a second family with sixteen years between her first and her last. Four children is a nice number she thought as pressed a strong crease down the arm of shirt. Those early years of the second family had been hard and a wedge was driven through the two sides, but she never regretted it. Her relationships with her children were nothing less than unconditional love. Special.
She never regretted that her second husband, who she loved dearly and so much more than the first, drank too much. He knew when he was wrong. She told him so. She was a stronger woman because of the first.
She never regretted that she gave so much all the time to others and very rarely got anything in return. She knew that she was loved and she knew that others didn’t always mean it.
As she hung the ironed shirt on a wire hanger, she thought about the thing she regretted the most.
Gazing out of the window, palms resting on the ironing board, she thought how she regretted that she had never, ever, learnt to water-ski.
She didn’t regret marrying so young, nor did she regret the pain and hurt of her first love’s betrayal, for his lies and absence had only made her protect her children more and become the woman she was today.
She had never regretted that she had chosen to be a full-time mum, although at times she did wonder what the thrill of the big smoke and the buzz of the rat race felt like.
She never regretted that she had spent so much time in those early years on her own. Nor did she regret the whirlwind lust, romance and relationship with the man across the road.
She had never once regretted having a second family with sixteen years between her first and her last. Four children is a nice number she thought as pressed a strong crease down the arm of shirt. Those early years of the second family had been hard and a wedge was driven through the two sides, but she never regretted it. Her relationships with her children were nothing less than unconditional love. Special.
She never regretted that her second husband, who she loved dearly and so much more than the first, drank too much. He knew when he was wrong. She told him so. She was a stronger woman because of the first.
She never regretted that she gave so much all the time to others and very rarely got anything in return. She knew that she was loved and she knew that others didn’t always mean it.
As she hung the ironed shirt on a wire hanger, she thought about the thing she regretted the most.
Gazing out of the window, palms resting on the ironing board, she thought how she regretted that she had never, ever, learnt to water-ski.
*******
........Regret the things you've done and not the things you haven't.
Monday, 7 June 2010
.... Yourself and No One Else
Just when I thought it was all going to be ok and I was finally being given a little break from the hard stuff, something explodes.
I haven’t felt like this for some time and I thought I had finally put it to bed, that I had tucked it in under a protective soft blanket and said goodnight.
But it looks like it has awoken and proceeded to get out of the wrong side of the bed. With its angry grumpy head it has come crashing back into my life.
It once told me I am far too nice for my own good, that I shouldn’t be willing to give it away so freely.
But what could I do? I gave it to people I thought I was meant to, the relationships which are held together by it and which depend on it.
I didn’t expect them to use it and treat it so poorly and as if it can be replaced without a thought.
And now it scratches at my insides and fills my head with doubt.
Now it stops me believing.
That I will ever use it again.
I haven’t felt like this for some time and I thought I had finally put it to bed, that I had tucked it in under a protective soft blanket and said goodnight.
But it looks like it has awoken and proceeded to get out of the wrong side of the bed. With its angry grumpy head it has come crashing back into my life.
It once told me I am far too nice for my own good, that I shouldn’t be willing to give it away so freely.
But what could I do? I gave it to people I thought I was meant to, the relationships which are held together by it and which depend on it.
I didn’t expect them to use it and treat it so poorly and as if it can be replaced without a thought.
And now it scratches at my insides and fills my head with doubt.
Now it stops me believing.
That I will ever use it again.
Friday, 4 June 2010
Not so Perfect Book Launch
I have never been to a book launch before but following Nik Perring's launch of his short story collection: Not So Perfect, I will be making sure I look out for and attend more.
I have been reading Nik's blog since I started this online rambling space. Despite being at the other end of the country, many of the blogs I love to read are all Manchester based, this is due to my lovely friend Sally (who lives in Manchester) who introduced me to blogging and some fantastic writers. Through the power of blogs, Twitter and Facebook, Nik and I have become friends so, needless to say I was excited and pleased to hear Nik was publishing a book. Having never really read short stories, I didn't know what to expect but when I got the perfect sized book through the post, I read the first story, Kiss and was hooked.
Not So Perfect has the ability to connect with everyone. The very perfect stories are insights to minds of everyday people which to some level we can all associate with. I mean, I think there is a Venus in all us females! All 22 stories are fabulous and although Kiss is my ultimate favourite, others become more loved depending on how I am feeling. My mum loves Angels in the car park, but I think that is because she can see herself lying in the snow to make angels.
I was so pleased when I knew I could make it to the launch and it didn't disappoint. I met some lovely people and now have some new blogs to read such as Kim's, Carol-Ann and Annie's. I got to hear Nik read five stories: Kiss, The Mechanical Woman, My Wife Threw Up a Lemur, Seconds Are Ticking By and In My Head I'm Venus. All fantastic. The questions were great too and it was interesting to hear where the ideas for the stories came from, and the process of working with Roastbooks to publish the collection.
I definitely need to seek out some local writers and attend more events like this because I thoroughly enjoyed it. Well done to Nik :)
I have been reading Nik's blog since I started this online rambling space. Despite being at the other end of the country, many of the blogs I love to read are all Manchester based, this is due to my lovely friend Sally (who lives in Manchester) who introduced me to blogging and some fantastic writers. Through the power of blogs, Twitter and Facebook, Nik and I have become friends so, needless to say I was excited and pleased to hear Nik was publishing a book. Having never really read short stories, I didn't know what to expect but when I got the perfect sized book through the post, I read the first story, Kiss and was hooked.
Not So Perfect has the ability to connect with everyone. The very perfect stories are insights to minds of everyday people which to some level we can all associate with. I mean, I think there is a Venus in all us females! All 22 stories are fabulous and although Kiss is my ultimate favourite, others become more loved depending on how I am feeling. My mum loves Angels in the car park, but I think that is because she can see herself lying in the snow to make angels.
I was so pleased when I knew I could make it to the launch and it didn't disappoint. I met some lovely people and now have some new blogs to read such as Kim's, Carol-Ann and Annie's. I got to hear Nik read five stories: Kiss, The Mechanical Woman, My Wife Threw Up a Lemur, Seconds Are Ticking By and In My Head I'm Venus. All fantastic. The questions were great too and it was interesting to hear where the ideas for the stories came from, and the process of working with Roastbooks to publish the collection.
I definitely need to seek out some local writers and attend more events like this because I thoroughly enjoyed it. Well done to Nik :)
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