Time waits for no man. Or woman.

Sat at my kitchen table with a coffee from my coffee machine, thinking about the world at large, or the world at small, and what a crazy place it is. Time passes so quickly yet it seems like only yesterday that I was opening this blog, starting a career as a teacher and moving into a place of my own. Fast forward 4 years into the future, and here I am, a different person, a different career path, sat in a different house with my 4-years-ago-brand-new laptop sat broken in the next room. Well, at least it lead a long and happy life, right? (I mean, it got to travel the world with me and everything - pretty special right?)

I don't know if you've ever seen the movie Epic, but there's one scene in particular that springs to mind. The tiny creatures of the woodland areas find themselves watching the seemingly clumsy movements of a human. To them, he's walking really slowly, his reactions to things going on all around him are well out of time, in slow motion, the words he's saying in that scary, deep, slow motion voice. This is supposed to be the reason why it seems impossible to swat a fly (or so I've heard, I try to avoid such things at all costs) To them, we are clumsily moving around in slow motion, and always reacting to their escape plans way out of time.

Remember when you were a kid? Chances are the summer holidays lasted forever, an endless stretch of days for bike riding, playing with friends, sharing stories, picnics and day trips to the seaside. Now, those of us who get a six week summer holiday watch on, horrified, as the six weeks slip through our fingers like dry sand. And, the rest of us who are lucky enough to get time off at summer, find that, again, it's gone in a flash.

Is time going faster? Since we've grown in height have we also changed our perception - our clumsy, slow motion movements speeding up? (Yes, okay, I know, I didn't grow all that much, just leave it alone would you?)

I don't know the answer. All I've learned is that time is precious -  today you have a million things to be thankful for. Life is short and no-one knows what the future holds so enjoying the present could not be more important. If I could go back in time to visit 22 year old me, I would tell her to enjoy the ride. Every moment is a blessing and one day you're gonna look back at teaching and travels and all the fun that ensued with nostalgic rose tinted glasses, and just wish you'd cherished it a bit more. Don't wait until that happens - appreciate life right now!

Exit Dreams

Felt inspired to write this after the poetry recital yesterday.  Really enjoyed hearing the other poems - such an honour to perform in the same category as the incredibly talented poets who made up the Over 25s.  Thanks to everyone for all your support: family, friends, colleagues - you have all been amazing.  I won a real enthusiasm for continuing with my writing and hope to perform some more in the future - that's the best kind of winning I know :)

I've forgotten what it feels like

to be the one

that you count on

for smiles and sun

So when the darkness appears

and my fun-filled head

rests in my bed

I feel real dread

I know the dreams are coming now

they always do

it's always you

I don't mean to

But my subconscious

is hearing voices

stupid noises

rest is pointless

What was that now?

It's telling me lies

that your heart is full of hate

I should learn not to wait

that my hands are tied by fate

But then last night

my subconscious

drowned those voices

oh, it got it right...

You were the same

and told me clearly

you cared for me dearly

and that you nearly

fell like others do.

But had to be honest,

it's not what you wanted,

and you just wondered

how I was and

wanted to say 'Hi',

then walk on by,

so satisfied.

And when I woke

I just knew it

we didn't fit

and the truth just unzipped:

confined

refined

an after thought

in your mind

but the centre

of mine

and that's not right.

So you did right.

So thanks for checking in

thanks for wandering

into my REM

and satisfying

my brain-

it's okay

and I'm not insane.

Voices are just voices

not reminiscent of bad choices

and now they're all choked up

because you just showed up

and said...

"I'm not the bee in your bonnet,

nor the words of your next sonnet

just the truth hiding in your closet -

don't pretend- you always knew it-

I was never what you wanted."

And that's honey to my ears:

exit dreams.

All of the above (a verse for the dreamers, the foolish and the clumsy)

Sometimes I dream things I shouldn't
have really long flashbacks
that last for hours
in that time in the morning between asleep and awake.

I have crazy ideas
put them in motion,
or sometimes leave them alone,
when I realise that they really are just bonkers

I'm romantic,
a fool,
imagine all those hopeless scenarios
run after trains when my beloved is zooming away from me
so, so fast.
and hope one day someone will run after me.

I jump through hoops,
I make hoops for others
and if they can't make it through,
I give them a leg up.

I am not strong enough to use my lawn mower,
I am ridiculously scared of most living things
I like making friends
but I hate it when they go away.

A lot of things go away.

But sometimes they come back again.

And if they don't,
I throw my head back onto my pillow
and sleep;
dream exotic dreams...

Sometimes it's daleks
and karaoke
or a fungi funeral
but in my Alice and Wonderland world
it never seems to matter

that I don't look perfect in photos
or that sometimes I eat badly
or if my hair looks rubbish when I get up in the morning
and I can't make it look right
or if I walk halfway to work with my skirt tucked into my knickers
or that I do really bad animal impressions
or that I give people I've just met fashion advice
or that I make mistakes
or set my alarm on weekends
and find it difficult to multi-task...

Because I know that for every mistake,
stupid photo,
TMI tweet,
blabbery blog post,
social faux pas,
accidental flash of underwear,
and the rest,
there is a belly-aching laugh,
a smile,
a skip in my step,
a holiday from real,
a song I know all the words to,
a small kindness I can pay to others,
and a love that is requited.

Whenever that will be.
It will turn up.

And in the meantime,
I will know that it is okay to be,
to do,
to have,
all of the above.

Instant karma, mafia wasps and the famous tainted love controversy of 2014...

Here is a long overdue blogpost on the amazing and awe-inspiring nature of instant karma which has become so, so apparent to me over the past 30 odd days.  (Not that I particularly subscribe to some New Age pick-and-choose-which-bits-you-like Hinduism, rather that 'you reap what you sow' is a central part of my actual belief system)  This will be followed by a couple of mad, rambling anecdotes (naturally)

Currently it is lent, and, as I do every year, I decided to challenge myself to something.  Now, we all know the debacle of when I tried to make everyone on my Facebook friends list smile (lent 2011) and that weird time I was forced, reluctantly, to give up Johnny Depp (lent 2004) but this time it was different.  I wanted something achieveable, but challenging.  The Facebook friends list one was very challenging, but I never managed it (although having a good stab at it counts for something, I'm sure...) whilst the Depp thing was just plain bizarre.  With this in mind, I decided I wanted to do something good, a good deed, if you will, every day of lent.

It started out as something nice.  Just plain, old nice.  I brought double chocolate brownies in for everyone at work.  I got to eat some too!  It was great.  But as the days went by, I started to notice something...

A force that is beyond myself started to pay me back in weird and wonderful ways.  I bought a coffee for someone behind me in the queue, I got a coffee bought for me the following week.  I brought in mini-eggs for people at work who had helped me out at a stressful time, a 'well done' card landed on my desk for getting through the stressful time. And the gifts kept on coming.  Coffee, chocolate, cards, thank-yous, well done, compliments, lifts home etc. etc.

So maybe I just know some pretty awesome and amazing people?  Probably.  And I feel quite guilty, like my efforts mean little compared to all these lovely blessings that keep on coming.  But, onwards I go, because I am quite enjoying doing all these little things, and, hoping upon hope, that I might surprise someone, or make someone's day, or bless someone just when they needed blessing.  Because now, I really need to pay everyone back for what they have blessed me with!  So I guess the quantity and quality of what I do for the remainder of lent will have to increase - I need to up my game!

Maybe you knew about instant karma already, maybe you don't believe in it, maybe you just think I'm plain bonkers.  If that's the case then I hope this post gives you a sense of what the little things can, and do, mean.  And if you were one of the people who blessed me, then hopefully you get a sense of how much it meant to me.

And, to conclude, I now admit that today's blessing comes in the form of my friend, who vows to save me from the mafia wasp in my house (a wasp I think belongs to the mafia, and I don't know why)

Now, I really better go because I need to figure out how to avoid making a mistake in the quiz on Monday like the tainted love controversy of January this year (I must only quiz people on the original artist behind a particular strain of musical genius when I definitely, definitely know that I am right!)

Furthermore, it's worth noting that instant karma works the other way too.  You know, put vinegar in your Dad's wine glass and get attacked by the largest spider you have ever seen...that kinda thing.

Be warned!

Why Sherlock Holmes makes you WANNA...

You know when you become so obsessed with fictional characters that you start dreaming about them?  When you become so absorbed in a book that you think the characters are all your best friends?  When you somehow manage to convince yourself that the song you are playing is the soundtrack to your life?  And that each dance move you bust out on your way to put the kettle on (again) is somehow documented by a camera ...and that maybe one day you'll get recognised for your killer shapes by some dance scout? (Do dance scouts exist?) Okay that last point is a clear digression from the subject at hand...ahem...

What happens in the human mind when any of the above happens is a real mystery to me.  But it is simply magical! You can't put your finger on quite how to describe that sense of excitement you get when you first hear the intro to a song, that you realise instantly, is soon to become your favourite.  I wish you could put that moment in a box and keep it forever, because it's pretty much like falling in love.  That feeling lasts such a short time, but is the reason that song holds such an esteemed place in your head.  You memory of how good that feeling is, holds the song in a moment, a past moment, where it can do no wrong.  Your imagination carries you off into the sunset.  You're walking along the beach with the love of your life, or flying through the sky, not a care in the world, or trapped in an eternal summer - so long as that song plays.  It's just like....the song...it just...makes you WANNA...

Then comes the moment that you've crossed the line.  The line between the perfect amount of plays and overplaying it.  When you go into that dark corner, you can never get back that feeling, that sense of excitement, that knock-you-off-your-chair-and-roll-onto-the-floor-in-shock reaction.  You can barely remember what it was like.

Fastforward in time now.  You've managed to forget that song.  Or that episode of Sherlock Holmes (or book, whatever it is...)  Life has carried on, and so have you.  You keep on watching the same old stuff, listening to the same old stuff etc. etc.  Then, all of a sudden, you are reminded of Sherlock for some reason (I dunno, your friend mentioned it or something...)  You decide to watch the first episode again. BAM!

"What was the BAM?" I hear you ask.  That was you being bowled over, all over again.  It's like you never even watched it in the first place.  Suddenly, you find yourself falling in love with him, like the past year never happened.  It's irresistable, the whole process is involuntary.  It's happening and you can't stop it.

That moment, my dear friends, is what I like to call The Great Re-discovery. (Yeah, you can probably think of a better name for it yourself...)  The point is, it's pretty amazing how fickle your memory can be.  It's also amazing how exciting and 'OOOOH' and 'I can't believe it' and magical the whole thing is.  I do love it.

One great thing about being a writer, is that (hopefully) I have the capacity to allow this to happen for other people.  I like the thought that maybe one day someone will put down my book, after reading a particular chapter, and have their thoughts entirely absorbed in a fictional world that I have created.  I am ever hopeful that this may be the case, as I managed to achieve The Great Re-discovery myself, with my own book, this very year!  I was seeking inspiration for my current book, and decided to re-read a chapter I had written in another project for some ideas.  I re-discovered a character that I had almost forgotten about.  What a guy he was.  Suddenly, I had that feeling of excitement all over again.

That is why I love writing so much.  I get completely immersed in a different world, with some pretty cool characters.  If only they existed!  One day you will get to have a read, and then I can only hope that one character makes you WANNA...

The Jar

Once I had a jar
I kept everything in there
From sea shells to pins,
And all shiny things
And, oh, for the contents, I cared.

Over the days and the years,
the jar began to get full
I needed a space,
a real special place,
somewhere for my affections to lull.

I discovered I owned something else
that soon replaced the jar
I could fit all the love
and affection and stuff
right here inside my heart.

But then a problem arose
for not everything that went in
put a smile on my face,
or a skip in my pace,
and it seemed my heart was burning.

You see, I wasn't the only one
who could add things to my heart
anyone can lean in,
with a wink or a grin
and add baggage that could smart.

At first you wouldn't guess
that they'd left anything there
but once you've let them in
they can do anything
and it really isn't fair.

I wrestled with closing my heart
and giving up collecting my blessings.
It's a free-for-all
if I don't withdraw
this privilege to those I let in...

But if I don't have a jar
where I keep all the things I love
where will I keep
my firm, steadfast belief
in a Heavenly God from above?

How will I exercise patience?
How will I think with my gut?
My own intuition
would become a pale vision,
without the guidance of love.

I guess I have a heart
with an automatic door,
where you can't control
who touches your soul
and it hurts when you have to let go.

Still, I'd never swap for a heart
that's locked under key and chain -
you can't find happiness
in loneliness
and you'd never love again.

"Who's trying to put you in a box? Have you told the police about this?"

One of the things which will (probably) never get old for anyone ever is taking quizzes about what sorta personality type you are.  This kind of categorisation has been going on ever since Freud was a twinkle in his Papa's eye (*please note: this is not a history lesson, I don't actually factually know if this is true...)  And the reason why we like it so much is because we like ourselves.

It's no secret that the most important thing to you is, well, you.  Although I know many selfless people, there is a natural tendency for humans to be absorbed in self.  This isn't something to be down about - in the words of Jason Mraz "We're only human", and afterall, we're hardly as bad as Descartes! (he seemed pretty wrapped up in himself didn't he? "I think therefore I am..." yada yada)

Lately, I've seen a few things doing the rounds on the Internet concerning extroverts vs introverts.  This caught my attention for a few reasons.  Firstly, I used to know exactly what I was out of those two.  It was clear as day.  I didn't want to talk to anyone I didn't know, I had a few close personal friends who knew a lot about me, the rest were people I got along with but wouldn't exactly be people I shared my secrets with...and I would make countless excuses up to avoid social interactions with people, even my very close friends.  Yes, I was as introvert as a snail, a tortoise or...or...a hedgehog!

Somewhere along the line though, I think my introvert self got turned inside out.  I saw something on Buzzfeed (okay, I know, not the psychological point of reference that Carl Jung would be proud of or whatever) which made me think twice about the introvert me.  The description of the extrovert in each picture reminded me of...me!  The person who never shuts up, always tries to connect with people, comes off a little clingy because of the need to just be talking, to anyone, my want to be the centre of attention and of course my recent 'hobby' of talking to strangers as though I know them.  "What could all this mean?" I asked myself.

Well, I did some soul searching.  I thought about that time in English in Year 9 when I got the chance to play Lady Macbeth and got a little buzz from performing in front of my class.  I also thought about that time I pretended to be interested in a packet of custard powder in the Co-Op because I saw someone I was friends with from the CU at Uni and didn't want to have to speak to them.  And I was curious.

I came across the term "ambivert".  Yeah, weird, I know, someone resented being labelled either one or other and decided there was a name for someone who is not strongly either way inclined. 

Despite having done a number of quizzes (all with different results about whether I'm introvert, extrovert or ambivert...or belong in the lunatic asylum (thanks for the insult Jung!)) I came to no conclusion really, other than the fact that, apparently, I would make a good salesperson (?!)  And so, I decided, that I didn't want to fit in a box.

I mean, who knows me better than a quiz I found through the medium of Google?  Precisely - everyone.  Even Alex who works at the Sainsbury's Local knows me better than a quiz on the Internet (*disclaimer, I don't know if anyone who works at the Sainsbury's Local is called Alex...)

I know me.  I know that I don't fit into these boxes.  I don't even fit into that box 'ambivert' that is reserved for those people who don't like being in boxes.  Because, well, I'm claustraphobic and stuff. 

I'd like to think that there's a whole row of boxes with a bunch of people in, all confused about their identity (Descartes is sobbing "Who am I?" Freud is shouting back "I am your Father!" Darth Vader style from the box next door...) all the while I am jumping around like a loon on top of the boxes, singing something idiotic and trying not to fall in.

I think, somewhere along the line, I got lost in this metaphor.  But, if this post is nothing more than nonsensical ramblings, at least I can be proud that I managed to reference Freud, Descartes, Jung, Jason Mraz, Vince Noir, Darth Vader and Alex from Sainsbury's Local all in the same blog post!