Posts made in May, 2010
Lost and Found
The blog’s on a short break while I get my head together.
I have words pouring out of me, feelings pouring out of me, that demand every bit of my attention.
I have an assignment due. My last one. It’s writing itself in a way I never really expected. And there is a lot of other crazy stuff going on. My head is having to do a bit of a rearrange to make room for new things. A new me.
I’m sorry about the Workshop. It will be back next week. You’re still getting biscuits in the post if I liked your prompt. But, you know, you put these things in the hands of crazy, temperamental and overly-emotional writer and well, consistency and order is not going to happen very often.
I shall be writing. And tweeting, probably. And singing, and talking a lot of shit about music and colours and beauty.
Because that’s where I’m at.
See you on the other side.
If I make it out.
Read MoreAlive
A two-post day. That doesn’t happen very often.
I was going to schedule this for tomorrow, but since it is a post about how I’m feeling right now, that seems silly, like it will lose its lustre somehow.
Why is it that it’s often on the days when I have had no sleep that I feel most alive?
All I wanted to do when I woke up was take pictures, so that’s what I have done.
Everything is glowing today, with a deep, vibrant beauty that makes me feel a little bit like being in love.
So.
This is my life today. I like it a lot.
And yes. I think a snail foursome is just about the best metaphor for happiness that there is.
Have a good weekend friends.
P.S. If you haven’t read this morning’s post yet, you should. It seems to be going down rather well.
Read MoreOh. Hello.
Hello You.
Yes. YOU. Well-meaning but makes-me-want-stab-myself-in-the-eyes-annoying You.
Hi there! Yes, I know it’s been a while.
It’s because I don’t like people, see? Or because I’m depressed, probably, or mad, or self-absorbed, or maybe I just don’t like you. I’ll let you pick one of those. Any one is fine.
Yes, we’re good thanks. Actually surprisingly good. Turns out my emotional well-being depends far less on attending every social parenting event going, and far more on space, sunshine, solitude, and spending time with the very few people that get me. Oh and writing, I know you don’t get THAT.
You do not get me full stop. I forgive you for this as I don’t really get me either.
Yes, Kai is fine thank you.
No, he’s not talking yet. He has, quite sensibly I’m beginning to think, shunned all forms of English expression and is doing very nicely with his own, far more creative, made-up language and signs and gestures and noises.
No, I’m not especially worried. I actually think it’s rather brilliant. I’m thinking of giving up recognisible language too. Saying ‘helicopter’ in Kai-speak is about a zillion times more fun anyway.
No, this is not in anyway a reflection on his intelligence. I know you think that because your child is now talking in sentences that means s/he/it is by far the superior being (and thus, logically, you are by far the superior parent), but doesn’t work like that, sorry. And the boy can play air guitar for frick’s sake, and his horse impression is better than most actual horses. If he does nothing else his entire life I will die happy.
Yes, his behaviour is challenging. Yes, I know he’s being an angel right now. Want to take him home for a bit and then see? Yes, I am probably over-reacting and making it all up. Whatever. Ooh look, a pigeon!
No, I don’t think he’s autistic. When I talk about the the things that are different about him this is not what I’m saying. He might be, for all I know, it doesn’t actually really matter much right now. Time will tell and all that. We’re too busy poking things with sticks to care much anyway at the moment. Good of you to respond to my worries in a way so perfectly designed to make me feel neurotic, judged and a big fat failure, though. Thanks for that.
No, we’re not potty training. The boy is scared of pooing already and has more ‘control’ issues than you could shake our poking stick at. So probably not a good idea, no? No, I don’t have plans to do it any time soon. He can be at school for all I care. We’ll do it when he’s ready, and by ‘ready’ I mean when he tells me he’d like to. Yes, this is probably down to laziness. While we’re at it, he’s not giving up the dummy any time soon.
No, he’s not sleeping brilliantly. Better though. Actually, for Kai he’s doing pretty damn good. No, on those nights he inexplicably decides to be awake all night I’m not going to leave him to scream in the dark. Yes, I still have to hold his hand when he can’t fall asleep. I know, I know. I’ll probably still be doing it when he’s 14. All fool me, huh?
Do I think that all of the above are probably because he doesn’t have enough time with other children?/watches too much TV?/ is due to the fact that I am a social recluse and obviously don’t speak/read/play/communicate with him at all? Oh, probably.
Anyway. I have to go to an important appointment/run away/shoot myself in the head/tweet about how stupid your hair looks.
I would LOVE to meet up for coffee one day!
Let’s do that really soon.
Not.
Read MoreWriting Workshop: Remembering a Summer Past
Welcome back to our Do-It-Yourself Writing Workshop! If you remember we’ve done things slightly differently this week. Instead of prompts, I gave you a series of words and phrases to inspire your OWN prompts on a theme. I can’t wait to see what you’ve all come up with. And, don’t forget, the five prompts that I like best will form the basis of NEXT week’s workshop, (and you’ll win a prize too).
I chose the first word, summer, and used it to write the prompt “Remembering a Summer past”…
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The girl lay lay out on the warm green grass, her legs and feet bare, her hands splayed above, collecting daises in the gaps between her fingers.
Image Credit: stock.xchng
She stretched, feeling her spine lengthen, pushing down, down with her toes, the prickly turf scratching her skin, the earthy, dry smell filling her nose. And she breathed. In and out, in and out. The pulse of the nearby traffic a soft roar like the sound of a womb, or the sea, or the wind through trees. Deep tendrils of feeling inch their way down through the soil, rooting her, as hot, piercing, healing waves of sunshine pin her down, heavy on her eyelids and her chest, flowing through and down and round and out.
And she smiles. And then stops, the smile catching as she remembers this, this moment, in another time and place.
A summer past.
Her grassy bed is replaced with firm mattress, cold sheets. Sunshine knocks at glass but can’t get in, the breeze from the open window not reaching her. She tries to stretch, and the burning pain of knotted, tight muscles chokes a sob from her. Her body feels swollen, unresponsive; tar running through her veins.
Breathe girl, breathe.
She closes her eyes, trying to paint the missing pieces in her mind, but how ever hard she tries she can’t turn white sheets into grass, or the ceiling into a blue sky with vapour trail kisses. She can’t feel the earth, suspended so far above it as she is. It is not sun that pins her down, just fatigue, and a body that won’t do as it’s told.
She is just a girl, stuck in bed, in pain, trying not to cry.
I am both these girls. Simultaneously across time, two summers separated only by six or seven years. My yesterday self stretched on the grass in feline bliss as my old self lies trapped in bed.
I had forgotten this. I’m not sure how, but I did.
This post did the rounds again yesterday. Remember?
Somehow I had failed to. Funny how it came along to remind me. Thank you my lovely Tara Lara, and I really mean that.
Because like lenses overlapping to bring distant letters into focus, that extra layer of meaning laid over my thinking yesterday brought with it clarity.
It is no wonder I feel as I do.
It is no wonder that feeling, sensuality, freedom, adventure, seem so attractive to me right now. Why I want to grasp them with both hands and not let go. It was not just motherhood that robbed me of those things for a while. Long years before of illness and pain left me living a half-life.
I stand at a point in my life where actually, if I’m honest and shake off the layers of assumed pressure, there is nothing to strive for. I am well, whole, alive. I have a demanding child, yes, and the emotional conflict that has dogged me my whole life, that is much a part of my nature as that need to do, to succeed…
But actually, right now, for the first time, I have the freedom to just be.
It is no wonder I want to make the most of that. I should make the most of it. My twenties have been one long, gruelling climb fighting the forces trying to push me down. I fought tooth and nail for everything it took to get me here.
And right now I am giving myself permission to stop for a bit.
I am going to try to just to stop. Just be. Just be alive.
Enjoying the sun on my face and the feel of the grass.
Because, you know? I’ve bloody well earned it.
________________________________________
Now it’s your turn. What word did you use to inspire you?
1. Summer
2. Lost
3. In the Garden
4. A Wedding
5. Escape
Leave your name and the URL to your post in the MckLinky below (the URL should be to your post not just to your blog) and leave me a comment to let me know you’ve taken part. If you have the time it would be great if you could try and read and comment on at least two other entries. And be kind! It’s supposed to be a bit of fun – we’re not looking for the next Booker Prize winner here.
If you haven’t had chance to respond yet, then you’ve still got till Sunday to enter your link! Or just wait till next week, when there’ll be five brand new prompts to get you thinking.
This Writing Workshop is brought to you in association with Mama Kat’s Losin’ It – who’s lovely author came up with the concept and runs her own workshop over in the U.S.
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