A Small Thought

I don’t have a favourite colour. I never have had one. I just tell people its blue, but when I picture blue in my mind it doesn’t please my guts.

Lately I have been saying it is metallic pink. Everything I own now is metallic pink. Even the shoes I am wearing. Deichmann, 19 quid.

I don’t particularly like metallic pink but it pleases my gut, so there must be some sort of spark there.

I think some children are embarrassed to talk about marriage and children. It’s a strange phenomenon. An eight year old boy I was teaching was trying to explain storytelling through the generations, and he said, ‘When I’m, well, when I have a child of some sort. Well, a small cousin of some sort, I will probably have a lot of stories to tell too.’

I chuckled at that. I was like that. I told my mum flat out that I would never get married. Ever. That it was a ridiculous notion and intolerable to me, at age eleven. Secretly I was crushing hard on my now-husband. He was fourteen and quite dashing. Did I tell anybody? Of course not. And I was quite cruel to him too. He must never be allowed to find out. I even prayed that when I was older, he would want to marry me. I actually got on my knees and prayed.

I said, ‘Oh dear God, please let me marry him when I am older.’ Every day for two months. I didn’t even say, ‘please let him be my boyfriend.’ I wanted something more solid than that, I suppose. Something in writing. 

Then I forgot, of course. Or it didn’t matter to me so much. My attentions were drawn elsewhere. Life. Exams. Stories to write and read. Exciting social events. Friends. Everything took over.

I even deviated a little and lead myself astray by mixing with some Bad Folk. Let us not tread those waters.

But at eleven, I prayed for him. So weird.

Seven years later, though, I married him. I guess prayers are answered. I married him after only four or five dates. That is weird. But I so wanted to. And I still want to. And I would do it all over again and get really excited to.

I have also never told anybody this. I fear I will appear a fool.

If I ever get to be old, I want to be old with my husband. I want to sit on a bench and stare as the world rumbles by. I believe it will be rumbling by then, not screeching as it is now. My hearing shan’t be as clear as it is now so that might contribute to the rumble.

Who knows.

All I know is that we are here on earth, and earth is fleeting. The people we meet and live with and accompany will leave us, will die, will be separated from us.  All I know is that we are still whole, with or without our loved ones, and that one can love wholly and completely without giving a piece of oneself away.

And that is what I am trying to do.

Destiny.

Hello, world.

I just want to put this quietly out there. This video is one that resonates with me on an extremely personal level. Almost word for word.

I know a lot of people have gone through this sort of experience. But it is good to share the feelings.

A few years ago, Something Big happened to me. It changed who I am fundamentally, and left me a lot more vulnerable and scarred. Ultimately I did learn a tremendous deal from that experience, but it has changed me on such a deep emotional level that I am noticing the change every day in my life, every single day. Everyday I am reminded that I am stunted because of what happened, bile and nausea have become a part of my existence.

I have moved on. I am happier, of course. But I know, deep down, that I will never have the joyful abandon I had before The Thing.

I was a different person before it. And I am sad because I don’t like who I’ve become because of it, because I know that the child I was then would not have grown into the adult I am now. And that, to me, is pretty hard to think about.

This video is very short. But it is very well articulated. And if you have ever experienced something like this, well, know that you aren’t alone.

Modern Safety

In this modern world, it is hard to be safe. Completely safe, I mean.

Look at it this way; the people you meet are not all going to be stable and sane. In fact, you yourself might not be stable and sane. That is a fact. So, let us say you meet a human who is completely unrelated to you, and form a relationship. It could be friendship, it could be romance, it could even be a bizarre attachment. Relationships come in all shapes and sizes, and the way humans connect is strange and surreal and fascinating, so it’s hard to put a label on anything.

Anyway. Say you met the person, and for reasons unknown the relationship turned sour. I don’t know, maybe the other party decided you were too bossy and called the friendship quits. Maybe you realised the other party was a manipulative psychopath so you decided to get out of the situation sharpish. Maybe the other party thought you smelled bad. Maybe you thought they smelled bad. There is such a variety of reasons, you get the picture.

So you decided to move on in life. Sever ties. Goodbye, and good luck. Or leave me the heck alone and don’t contact me. Or see you around (but not really).

Well, if that person (or, indeed, you) decided that actually they didn’t want to sever ties, and wanted to keep in contact, would it be so hard? We have Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and we check into places almost unconsciously because there is always that option.

Instagram: Hey, social media person, would you like to tell everybody where you are eating this delicious cinnamon roll? Here are some options based on the location your phone is giving me!

Social Media person: Urrrrmmm. Noooo. Wait what, I didn’t click anything!

Instagram: Congratulations, now everybody knows you were eating at Cinnabon in the Bull Ring, Birmingham City Centre at 2:30PM. HEAR THAT EVERYBODY? SHE’S RIGHT HERE. COME GET HER.

See what I mean? Even if your location services are switched on in your phone settings you could be unconsciously sending out signals to the interwebs about where you are.

It’s not even just that. People are so innocently putting in where they work and how many languages they speak and where their pet dog likes to go walkies, and they don’t realise that ANYBODY can find them. ANYBODY.

Remember that smelly girl who was clingy and weird? Well, hullo, she is now at the reception desk at work asking for you by the name only your mother uses when she is pretty mad.

Or that manipulative psychopath you desperately want out of human existence? Well, he knows your name by heart and has created a google account in your name (I mean, what the heck is your problem, man) and is now emailing you relentlessly.

Well, folks. We are not safe. I guess we never were, and stalkers have a way of finding out where you live out of pure will and drive. We all know lots of things are possible out of pure will and drive.

It’s all this data, though, that we have everywhere. All these different databases with different aspects of our lives stored on their systems. If they all pooled their information about us collectively, they would have a complete picture of our lives down to a (reasonably accurate) prediction of our deepest fears and desires. Banks, medical records, dental records, school records, job records etc.

The technology is there, you see?

I don’t have Facebook and I really, honestly, don’t put any personal details about myself on the internet, but I feel so vulnerable all the time.

Do any of you feel this way? Do you feel safe using Apple, Google Play etc? I mean, for example, the other day my phone suggested that I could go ‘home’ instead of Shropshire, despite the fact that I entered Shropshire into Google Maps. What was that about? How the heck did it even know where ‘home’ was? I sure as heck never told it. Also what is with the cheek of suggesting I go home?

Um, no, smartphone, I will decide where I want to go. I am still capable of doing that. See? They’re savvy.

Tom Hughes

Two Cold Uncles Knitting to the Beat

Hello everybody!

I was sitting in the library today, trying so hard to conjure up an idea for a short story. I have a hand in on the 17th of March; I have nothing to write about!

Anyway so something inspired me to get on to google and type in ‘story idea’. A website called ‘Plot Generator‘ came up and I thought, holy moly, have I just stumbled upon a goldmine?!

Turns out I did. A hilarious gold mine. I filled in some boxes with keywords and names, and it generated a little story for me. It had me laughing so much I had to get up and take a breather.

Have a look, if you’re interested!

 

Twig Blackadder was thinking about Emilia Blake again. Emilia was a kind angel with handsome hair and slim lips.

Twig  walked over to the window and reflected on his pretty surroundings. He had always hated peaceful Lancing with its slobbering, strong seaside. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sad.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a kind figure of Emilia Blake.

Twig gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a stubborn, wilful, coffee drinker with built hair and brunette lips. His friends saw him as a modern, magnificent monster. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a villainous grandma.

But not even a stubborn person who had once made a cup of tea for a villainous grandma, was prepared for what Emilia had in store today.

The rain hammered like thinking parrot, making Twig bittersweet. Twig  grabbed an ethereal key that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Twig stepped outside and Emilia came closer, he could see the slobbering glint in her eye.

Emilia gazed with the affection of 4480 selfish amused ant. She said, in hushed tones, “I love you and I want closure.”

Twig  looked back, even more bittersweet and still fingering the ethereal key. “Emilia, I’ve always loved you,” he replied.

They looked at each other with nostalgic feelings, like two glorious, giant goldfish sobbing at a very considerate holiday, which had piano music playing in the background and two cold uncles knitting to the beat.

Twig  studied Emilia’s handsome hair and slim lips. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” began Twig in apologetic tones, “but I don’t feel the same way, and I never will. I just don’t love you Emilia.”

Emilia looked happy, her emotions raw like an old, open old shoes.

Twig could actually hear Emilia’s emotions shatter into 8876 pieces. Then the kind angel hurried away into the distance.

Not even a cup of coffee would calm Twig’s nerves tonight.

THE END

They even generated a cover for me!