Snapshot

Had a sudden urge to write after listening to Radioheads 'Street Spirit' on repeat for 20 minutes. Really wanted to write a short story or even my last piece for the Vogue competition, but distraction formed itself in webpictures of strangers living incredible lives on Twitter. (My Internet was down for two days, so its all incredibly novel again...)



Find myself quite fascinated by strangers actually. Compelled to write about them in some sort of snapshot prose...possible short story brewing. We all seem to promote a snapshot version of our real selves, especially on the Internet or in first meetings- displaying fast and furious facts. Me like fashion. Me like writing....indie music, guys with beards, beaches and arty films. We present our blurb to strangers hoping to entice them, encourage them to take a closer look to learn more. To learn we are a Pieces. We used to be anorexic. We hate our brother. We are scared of being hurt.



We all have a story to tell and it seems now with social networks booming that more than ever we need readers. Condensing our lives to short stories and then micro fiction so the easily bored eyes of the public don't wander. Must remember the people that truly count are the people that sit down and read the full length novel.



And demand a sequel.







P.S Throughout this snapshot pondering I decided on a trend to 'comment' on for Vogue comp! LOVEWORN. Clothes that are creased, crumpled and feel all soft and worn in. Because I love looking pretty in scruffy clothes :)

Short Story

A Short story I wrote a while ago and don't know what to do with....

Night Walker:

Dragging her eyelids open only to see the fermenting clementines next to her, she let them shut slowly back down. Eyes still shut she lifted her heavy limbs out of bed and walked towards the front door. She kept her eyelids down, though she knew exactly what was surrounding her- bodies lying comatose, ashtrays filled to the brim and pools of beer sitting stagnant in forgotten cans. She didn’t care to look. Instead she felt her way to the door and opened it, she left the smell of death behind her and embraced the iced breeze of the night.

Her feet were bare and hurting as she walked over the gravel path. The tarmac road felt heavenly. Her tracksuit bottoms were too big for her and left her fresh tattoo completely exposed. Her hoody was shrunken and tight, riding high to reveal more tattooed skin on her stomach. She stretched out her arms and pretended to balance on the pale curb by the road. Not a single car drove by, not another life for miles- exactly how she hoped it would be. She headed to the middle of the road and lied down, the cold cement refreshed her rotting body. She stared into the sky at the two stars on show and half-lit moon. She stared at them with no thoughts running through her head- there wasn’t need for thought tonight.

Eventually she rose from the road and continued walking. To her right was a 24 hour MacDonald’s, inside the workers had taken off their hats and were falling asleep on the empty tables. She walked in and ordered a milkshake, a chocolate one. She was greeted with strange looks and disgusted eyes as she smiled dreamily at the acne ridden employee. He gave her the milkshake and she gave him a quid and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks gorgeous”. She left them with their bemused faces and drank her milkshake as she walked. Which she did a lot. She walked and walked. She saw houses, most of them sleeping, some of them not. She heard arguments between husbands and wives, she saw kids smoking out of their windows, she even saw a couple making love on a kitchen table. Now I say making love, but I don’t mean that- I mean sex. Sex in it’s purest form. She watched in awe sucking her straw absent mindedly, how she missed sex, passion, all of that. Continuing on she returned to the house with the child smoking. The girl smoking out of her window reminded her of herself when she was 12. The two met each others gazes and after another sip of her milkshake, our night walker gave the child a wink and weak smile as if to wish her good luck. And with that she continued on.

Pass the housing estates now and towards the outskirts of the town. Here lay abandoned warehouses and empty petrol stations. She had left the world of the living and entered a ghost town. She wondered through these buildings, half expecting to be raped or murdered- half expecting? Half hoping. Instead she met a stray cat. Black as her hair and undernourished, she let it have the remains of her milkshake and gave it a scratch under its chin. Just a couple of lost souls passing in the night. She extended her hand as she walked and felt the chipped bricks of the building. She liked to do this, touch things as she walked passed them, she imagined this would be how life would be if she was blind- she imagined it would be tremendous.

Leaving the ghost town and stray cat she climbed over a wire fence into the skate park. There was a single skateboard lying upturned on a ramp. She flipped it over and wiped the mud from it’s wheels. She took it to the top of the ramp and settled her feet onto it. Using her arms she propelled her way down the ramp, with arms outstretched as always. She was flying alone with only rolling wheels for company. She continued skating for another hour until moving on. She took the skateboard with her but did not ride it- she preferred to walk.

She was far away from home now and saw no sign of civilisation. Her thoughts briefly drifted back to her home and the fermenting clementines, forgotten and rotten. No. She was not there anymore, she wasn’t even in the same universe right now. Looking to her left she saw the beginnings of a wooden fence. Fantastic she thought, we’re nearly there. She stroked it as she walked, secretly enjoying the odd pain from loose nails. She giggled to herself until a shadow stopped her in her path. The shadow from the bushes slowly revealed itself to be a lone wolf. It stopped in the middle of the road and stared at her. She looked into it’s eyes with no fear- she was beyond that now. The two creatures stared for an eternity, (or two minutes, actual time). She felt no terror, no horror, just a pure calmness throughout her entire body. Here she was looking into the heart of a killer and she felt totally at ease. Was she dead? She must be, no living person could do this. The wolf lowered it’s head in pity and returned to the bushes in a blur of silver fur. She wanted to cry, to fall in the road and cry it all out- but alas, she was numb.

She climbed over the wooden fence and down onto the soft sands. She walked and walked, legs moving without prompt now, as if some force was controlling her limbs. As her toes touched the sea she stopped dead. She sat herself down on the wet sand and stared at the ocean like she had stared into the eyes of the wolf. Why wasn’t she cold? It was the middle of January and she wasn’t wearing shoes or socks- let alone a jacket or scarf. She should be shivering, hurting, aching for heat- but no. here she was motionless without a single goose bump. She wasn’t crying either, despite the desire to still raging through her. She wanted to scream, to run, to at least keep walking- but something had her rooted to this spot.

Her eyes followed the waves as they slowly lapped around her. She wondered what she would do if she saw a man drowning right now. Would she run to his aid, call an ambulance, attempt to save his sorry life? No she thought. I probably wouldn’t. her head began to ache, much to her pleasure. She loved her tension headaches, they were the one thing that linked her to the rest of humanity. She did suffer the delicious pain, she was human after all. Was this fresh pain serving as a reminder that she was still alive? Or just a dull ache to remind her she’s not part of this world anymore? She didn’t know, it hurt too much to contemplate.

Somehow she managed to pull herself up from the sand and onto her feet. She looked at the ocean with envy. She wanted to join her imaginary drowning man. She walked into the sea, the freezing waters doing their best to tempt a reaction from her weary body- notice the pain! Turn back! They screamed. She felt nothing. She walked on to the ends of the earth, hoping for some sort of salvation. Sadly all she found was the floating corpse of her once walking body. A tear fell for the first time. She smiled.

Followers hey?

So- has been a while since I've had a lil' write on here huh! Work has been stressful, and trying hard to ajust to grown-up time- i.e trying to fit in a full time job with boyfriend, with friends, with me-time, with exercise, with writing, yada yada ya! Turning out to be a little tricky, but so much more enjoyble than my time in limbo when I had nothing but time.

Since I last wrote I've joined the social networking site- 'twitter' which I figure will be great for promoting this blog and to make some contacts in the industry. And so far- so good, have got myself 21 followers! One of which is a writer and blogger, Jenn Ashworth who I've got a little link to on this side bar right here---> So that's made me happy. Also makes me feel rather divine and god-like...I have followers. Must not let the power go to my head.

Also must write something of worth here so that when/if anyone reads this blog they will actually see something good as appose to narcissistic ramblings. Have a week off work next week so jobs to do are:

1. Write a fantastically interesting/witty blog


2. Write a short story and submit to someone. Anyone.


3. Write a piece commenting on a fashion trend for Vogue writers contest (because lets face it, Vogue is my bible.)

Tis a plan. Till then must keep scribbling....

Stand By

A new year calls for a lot of things- a new blog entry for starters, new plans, resolutions, goals, fascinations, musings, wanderlusts even? Not sure that last one is even a word... feeling very thinky and wordy this evening (terrible combination for a writer with no readers!) But hey, I'm gonna spit anyway- feel free to join in.

This time last year I had a year of change ahead- moving from Southampton back home with the parentals, jobless and with no real plan in mind besides travelling. And looking back- I had quite a kick ass year. I had an awesome last few months in Southampton, came home and proceeded to bum around for the entire summer jobless. I had two holidays, one festival and a summer romance that turned into a real relationship. Then after a few false alarms job-wise I got one that would fit the bill... for now anyways.

I'm not where I thought I would be, but I'm happy- probably happier than ever actually. I'm not in the job I want to be in, no- but I don't dread going to work. I enjoy the work and like the people I work with- surely that's better than most jobs in itself? Besides I'm constantly reminding myself it's only temporary, so I take the con's of retail life with the pros fully aware it is not forever. I'm not living where I see myself living- again temporary before I travel and then pick a spot on the planet to inhabit. I'm in an incredibly happy relationship- which as you may have guessed from my previous post is quite the achievement. I have a loving family around me including the best sister in the world who I'm going to miss like hell when she's off surfing the coast of Australia (wait wasn't that my idea?!). I have awesome friends, who I don't see enough, but when I do it revitalises my love for life as I'm constantly inspired. All in all- I've got it good.

Saying that I do see (and hope for) this year to be one of change...again. Last year was full of new things and I want the same again. If I stay in the same place (metaphorically and actually) I feel stagnant like a forgotten beer. So I want some things for this year- not resolutions (GMTV told me they're bad for your health..) just 'things' I want to happen/see/do/think....

• READ more. Currently enjoying 'Love letters of great men'. Want some exciting fiction to inspire me.
• WRITE more. Haven't written anything in so long, makes me sad- awaiting inspiration and courage.
• DO more. In general. Maybe exercise a bit....go to more gigs, go to the theatre/museum/gallery....stop sitting on my arse on my days off basically.
• LEARN again. I miss lectures. I want a degree in philosophy...and photography...and anthropology....
• TRAVEL. It's part of the plan this year (again) if I don't do at least a little this year I'll have really let myself down.
• MOVE. Somewhere. Don't know who with, don't know where- but it's gonna happen.
• SEE my friends more (caps didn't do the intended job with that one did they?).

I think that's it. I'm sure I'll add more as the months wear on. This is probably the most I've written in weeks- already working on numero dos. Kudos to me.

X

The worst of me

I promised some actual writing, so here it is. I'm going to be brave and lay the worst of me on a platter for you (whoever you may be). As I'm sure a lot of writers would say- the worst of you always seems to produce the best writing- or is that just me? Either way here are a few carefully selected segments of my random writings over the past four years. I started writing random thoughts at uni and have built up over 7000 words of thought. Usually about my crap love life. To clarify these were all written when I was unhappy, or happy and being melodramatic. Take each word with a pinch of salt- I'm not really this depressing, it just makes for better writing. And looking back I realise how lucky I am now to have Antony (the boy) in my life. Anyway, enough mushy talk, here is the worst of me.

Tuesday 7th June 2005, 01:24
And so she is home, comforting herself with empty spaces, knowing the complications aren’t in this house. She warms up to her inner voice, smiles at the faces she wants to see. The faces she wants to block become like recurring nightmares, scenarios playing over in her head while the birds tease her to insanity. At least there is safety in the knowledge that they are all far away, both in distance and in time.

Saturday 13th May 2006, 17:18
This gaping space has become horrifyingly normal for her. She stares at the cracks on the wall whilst a numbness hits her hard. These painful dreams, these reincarnated tears, these broken record memories are wearing her thin. Injecting hearts onto her arm brings a smile before the jealousy rips it back. Her awkward hurt is now a companion. Something to hold to when there is nothing. Blank thoughts dance across the screen while the vague knife stabbing her does so without question nor answer. Shattered pieces of her pleasant memories get strewn across the town for her to photograph like a tourist.

Tuesday 29th August 2006, 18:37
The only thing raging in her chest is anger. Anger at him smothered in confusion. How dare he make her fears reality? How dare he throw her back to the wolves? What right does he have to crush her, what right do any of these men have? After doubting herself she screams to songs and allows the anger to flow. She screams at the self abuse, she screams at every thought leading her down that path, she screams for every scar on her body.

Sunday 11th March 2007, 16:59

There are no more tears to cry for the moment, she is sore and weary from drowning. Hope of this ending, hope of a release has died. Suffocated from her own breath, she sends a coffin full of hope off like a paper boat in a never ending sea. Slowly it falls into the distance as she accepts her fate. And what a fate it is. Collapsed on a bed of dreams she remains fallen. She accepts the pain and stares into it with no fear. She is beyond fear. She is beyond everything.

Friday 25th January 2008, 17:58
What to do on this remaining scrap of innocence? Begging to be defaced, determined to die dirty. With what graffiti to mark this canvas with? Words of wonder elude her as the irritant of strangers after her services grows. Just words she thinks. Destroy it with words and the actions will follow.

Sunday 18th May 2008
She has figured herself out. She is a writer that cannot spell. She is an artist trapped inside the body of someone that can’t draw. She is a creative that lacks the talent to transform her dreams into realities. There is only frustration, no fruition. This is all about to change she whispers to herself. Everything around her is dusty, begging to be cleaned. A new chapter is opening up. Change is upon her, and finally- finally, she embraces it. She revels in it in fact, it is becoming a new hobby. Routine and formalities have driven her to stagnant waters. She looks forward to newly appointed challenges and makes a pact with herself. Do it now, do it before it’s too late.

Thursday 12th June 2008, 01:33 AM
How can music do that? Reach into the bottom of your soul and reveal to you long forgotten emotions. God she loves it. These early hours are the best, when all are asleep but her and her new best friend- Mr Joslin. Oh how you move her, recreate tears that fell years ago. She thought they had died, gone forever- but you found them. You have decorated her sketched face with the artful little shapes. You are reminding her what her calling is, showing her it needn’t all be electrical nonsense- just passion. And her loves, (oh her loves), losses and continuing loneliness, you’ve found them too. Her mind is shooting scenes every second- various men take their turn in the role of leading man. He’s in bed with her and holds onto her naked skin for dear life. And you, good sir, are their soundtrack, and you are infuriating their imaginary passion and her real hurt. She thanks you for it, truly, nothing has moved her this far for years indeed. I think it was the push she needed to finally approach the belly of the beast. ..and secretly enjoy it.

Wednesday 30th July 2008, 12:29 AM
The lower half of her body has lost feeling. Sometimes she wonders if she will be able to walk again. Stuck in limbo she looks inwards for inspiration and entertainment. Her daydreams, as usual, provide the best. Another love interest has entered her life- but like so many others, he is planning to leave. Another relationship that will die prematurely. Perhaps the stranger she runs into every three years is the one for her. Fate certainly seems to want them to meet- how else would he have found her after all these years?
Her boredom needs a new word, the current one doesn’t begin to explain. She has too much time to think and at times she wonders if she will loose her mind. Thankfully all this is giving her fingers incentive to type, to record, to provide evidence. For if she truly disappears, as she fears she will, at least this will stand as proof. She lived! She wrote! She loved! She slept.

Monday 3rd November 2008, 15:47
He walks tall and with a purpose. His smile when he sees her is all she thinks about. When she’s with him all she feels is calm and supreme relaxation- there are no games being played here, no false words or stomach flips. When she sees his passions surface she smiles to herself. A man without passion or dreams is one without love. He has opened her eyes to a bigger world and reunited her with her own love for life and the accompanying soundtrack. His knowledge and fierce intelligence astounds her. His caring hands wrap around her instinctively. And she loves it.
Her romantic history to date has been full of hurt and bad luck…he has become her lucky charm, changing all of it in an instant. Others have tossed her to one side- but she thanks them for that, she was put there for him to find. Even fate seemed to want them to meet- bringing them together again and again in chance meetings over the years. Well, she thanks you fate for leading him to her. She knew there was a plan behind your games and is glad to finally see what it was. It was you.

Making plans

You know what I've noticed? nothing....and I mean NOTHING ever goes according to plan. I've been writing life plans since I first picked up a pen- nothing exact, just rough outlines of where I want my life to go. Hell it's one of my favourite pastimes. Yes, I've had many a life plan jotted in my diary and each one falls through for one reason or another.

After realising my future travelling buddies wanted to wait a bit longer for the adventure than me (totally understandable considering they're both on track to have fantastic careers and want to focus on that right now) I have decided I will have to do it alone. I've decided not to do the 6 month around the world thing yet either, because frankly- I'll never have the money for that. So now I'm thinking just a month or two doing a volunteer project somewhere. Possibly Fiji or Thailand. Maybe I'll just leave and see where the metaphorical wind blows me. As long as it isn't Camberley I'll be happy. Then when I come home I want to move out. Possibly to Portsmouth with friends, possibly Brighton alone. I would like a beach to dream by and a city to play in. I need somewhere with a music scene and writing jobs. For some reason the notion of picking up my life, moving to a new city alone and starting again totally enthralls me. I think it would be so refreshing. Obviously I would keep in contact with everyone...but to just be somewhere new and make a new life for myself. God it would be good.

But as I said, nothing goes to plan. I'll probably end up in the north pole living with an Eskimo and his pet seal. So I have an even better plan. Stop planning and enjoy the present. I live in my head too much, planning and scheming for the future when I should be sitting back and enjoying what I'm doing today. What is that quote? "Happiness is not a destination, it's a way of travel." Very true. Must remember that. And I have enjoyed today- a day in bed with my boyfriend watching 'Leon' and eating Chinese. Life's too short to get carried away with plans.

That is all I have for today. Next time I promise to write about writing or jobs I have- this is supposed to be a writers blog not an online diary...I guess even that one didn't go to plan.

Happy Halloween kids

Beginning of the twist

Well, it's been a while since I've had a little type on here hasn't it? The reason? I got a new job and was chucked even further into my personal limbo with it. The job is at River Island. I'm back where I started, literally gone full circle on myself. I am now the 'menswear product manager', which basically means I'm in charge of making the menswear floor 'visually appealing' and merchandise their stock for optimum sales....I move clothes around and dress mannequins. I had three weeks of training in Guildford and ending up travelling in between my sisters (where I stayed) and my boyfriends. During this three weeks my sisters old room at home became transformed into my new room and my old room became a holding room for my vast amount of crap that I've accumulated over the years. So in short- I was living out of a suitcase without a room to call my own, training for a job I didn't want and learning to love public transport. Pretty much my limbo optimised.


I'm pleased, however, to report that things are starting to settle down now. I started my job (officially) yesterday in Camberely.....and actually quite enjoyed it. I'm planning on keeping my eye out for any writing jobs in Camberley and if anything fantastic comes along I will bid farewell to the world of retail finally. In the meantime I'm going to enjoy what I do and have fun with it- after all it isn't forever. And I know I'll enjoy it more when pay day finally arrives (God I've missed paydays). I will continue to write in my free time (have idea's for a new short story and am now officially a contributor to the 'Don't Panic Media' website) and will start FINALLY saving for my travelling adventures.


I have started to move myself into my new room and am starting to feel at home. And I can now use my day's off productively, I can write and write and write until my fingertips bleed. I can steal all of my boyfriends music, lie back and get my official education. Speaking of the lover and music, he came up with a great idea of us putting together a fanzine. It is probably a dying art form now, but with his immense musical knowledge and my not-completely-crap writing skills, I really think we could make something good. It would be a fun hobby whilst adding nicely to my portfolio. And hey, might even make some money! After that we'll open our own independent record store/coffee house.....then of course the record label.....



In the words of the beautiful Kate Hudson in 'Almost Famous': "It's all happening"

(I don't know why there's three pictures...I can't delete one of them....lets pretend it was intentional art....I hate technology- where's my typewriter?)