Not a self promoter.

Now I’m not one for boasting, bragging or bigging oneself up… it would seem I’m not really a fan of words that begin with B, apart from… boobs, belles, boys, bits, bums… We can see what I have on my mind. Anyways, I don’t think it’s necessary or very becoming from a young lady, such as myself. To be honest, it’s not great in anyone. There’s confidence, there’s being proud of an achievement, then there’s arrogance and rubbing people’s faces in your success – it’s a fine line to tread.

I’m not one for self promotion. I don’t wish to attract that much attention to myself. I am confident in my own skin, I know me, what I like, what I don’t, and if I don’t or am unsure, I’ll spend a few hours debating it in my mind, and possibly sharing it with you. But. There are things I know I am good at, and there are things I know I excel. We all know our own strengths as well as our own weaknesses but I tend to focus more on what I enjoy, more than what I think I may be good at.

As far as I am aware, I think its fairly dangerous to trust your own opinion of yourself. Know yourself, like yourself be proud of yourself, but don’t think you know it all, after all, we lie to ourselves all the time. We lie to others about ourselves, we are in effect our best friend and our own worst enemies, for quite those reasons. Always out to protect but also to blind. So well, I thought I’d do something very random, because I am random and I feel like it.

I’m going to share some things with you. What they will be are things I like, things that interest me, things I love, and they’ll be relevant. To me, to you, to something you like, a common interest, to someone you know, or to knowing where I’m coming from when you hear my ramblings a little more.

I’m an English student. I spend most of my days with my head in a book, thinking about a book, reading a book about a book or thinking about what I’m not reading. I spend time exploring history, philosophy, psychology, sociology, epistemology, literary theory, I’m an overthinker by trade, probably why I spend such a long time looking into things on a microscopic level, I’m a lover of analysis – whether its of a page, a character, a period, a psyche, or just my muddled and cuffudled brain.

I’m a TEFL qualified teacher, so I mould the brains of non English speaking students, which is ironic seeing as I seem to pay very little attention to grammar, punctuation spelling, or even whether the word I use actually exists in my own personal life. I enjoy teaching, love teaching, I find it the most interesting and fascinating thing to do. Its inspiring, rewarding, challenging, had work and fun, and they are all the reasons I love doing so.

I’m a writer of erotica. Don’t get too excited, I’m not published (well in an anthology, somewhere… not big time, published) I have a blog, I write sex as sex should be, raw, passionate and without too much soppiness and character. Its all about release and self expression. its another side of me to this one, a more primitive, raw, randy side agreed, but a side I embrace all the same.

I’ve started a music blog, because I’ve realised I listen to a lot of obscure stuff, that people seem to be very interested in when it comes up. I mention people nobody has ever heard of and that have less than 1000 followers on Facebook. I like finding odd little artists and songs, searching for something new to my ear, to prick the hairs on the back of my neck and make me stop and listen. And as I love sharing, well why not share that too, seems selfish to keep all my little musical treasurers to myself.

I write for my University online publication, infact, I’m under interview for Editor in Chief. I’ve been in print issues, and my writing is journalistic, from news to current affairs, reviews and previews, entertainment to fashion, politics to columnist pieces. I enjoy all sorts of writing. I think words are the most powerful tool, and weapon at our disposal, and I’m rather a fan of playing with them.

Now. I know that all this sounds like a bit of a boast, that I’m trying to show off, say how well I write, how many different things I can throw my hand at, how busy I am. Its not. I’m not a great writer, I enjoy it, there are certainly better out there. I’m a fan of commas and long sentences, using the ‘three’ in description and prescribing to clichés when I feel like it. I write colloquially, without thought, or point. I ramble, I jump about, I even forget the point I started with and end up somewhere completely different – not a to b, more… j to r (if you follow my meaning).

I’m simply saying it because, well I thought you might like to get to know me. Maybe you might want to read something completely different and fancy my other blogs, perhaps I felt like divulging, or maybe I felt like taking stock of what I do do. I think I may have my fingers in two many pies to do any properly or to the level I truly wish to. I’ve neglected my blogs of late with life’s general hiccups as it is, let alone kept on top of everything else, but as long as their a pleasure and not a chore, I’ll keep doing them. Thats what life’s about isn’t it. Sharing. Doing things you love. Talking to one and other.

Do I follow you, do you have another blog I should be checking out? – post it. If I’m not writing I’m reading something, editing work for the paper, books for University, marking for students homework or an album review. Might even be the back of my cereal box. If you fancy some music, or erotica – ask. If you want to know something else –  ask. If you want to chat – talk. I am, as they say, all ears. I fancy sharing, so lets here something about you.

What do you do, what do you like?


For all those lost loves…

For all those past loves we have to move on from, we have to let go but we will, always at some point – Love. There is always someone in your life that changes it in a way that you will never forget, one person that takes a little bit of you away with them forever. We have to move on but we have to remember, the good times, the laughs – the honesty of Love.

Golden, golden, golden river run
to the East then drop beneath the sun
and as the moon lies low and overhead
we’re lost

Burn slow, burning up the back wall
long roads, where the city meets the sky
most days, most days stay the sole same
please stay, for this fear it will not die

If I had a boat, I would sail to you
hold you in my arms, ask you to be true
once I had a dream, it died long before
now I’m pointed north, hoping for the shore

Down low, down amongst the thorn rows
weeds grow, through the lilies and the vine
birds play, try to find their own way
soft clay, on your feet and under mine

splitting at the seams
heaving at the brace
sheets all billowing
breaking of the day
sea is not my friend
and everyone conspires
still I choose to swim
slip beneath the tide

once I had a dream
once I had a hope
that was yesterday
not so long ago
this is not the end
this is just the world
such a foolish thing
such an honest girl

Rediscovering your past love…


For once I am not referring to men, or women. No I’m talking about hobbies and those things we used to love doing, yet somehow no longer have the time too. I’ve many, we all have, things in our past that we were almost obsessed with at the time. I danced, nearly gave up school for dance school at 11, swam for my county, amateur dramatics – performances, singing, dancing the whole she-bang (nearly drama school instead of Uni)… I played cards, was an avid poker fan, read for fun before Uni got in the way, played Badminton, Rock climbed…. and of course, the crux of and purpose of my post.

Played the piano. Since returning home for the summer and getting to play as much as I want, having a piano back has been quite something. I’d forgotten how much I’d missed it, the hours of practising, getting a piece, then playing as though you always could, the sanitation, my hands dancing over the chords and arpeggios, my long nails clicking against the ivories with each note. I couldn’t be any happier when sat at my piano for hours.

I get wrist cramp, I swear, I get up make a cuppa in a mood only to return with a “right you bastard” as I stare out the music, the notes, the staves tormenting me. It’s a love hate relationship and I love every minute of it. It’s not that I’m amazing, I gave up lessons after my grade 5 exam, not wanting to put myself through the torment of a theory exam, which now… you could say seems pointless but never mind, Oh! to be young and headstrong. But what does make the difference…

Its my passion. Its something I will always enjoy doing. I rarely play for others, I find it unnerving, I’m happy playing in the hall and if people can hear well then I hope they enjoy. But I play for me. For the personal accomplishment, for my own pleasure, for the satisfaction of completing something. There are rare moments in life when we can literally acknowledge progress, doing well. We work hard at work and feel like we’ve made headway but there’s no proof, maybe a smaller pile of papers, we cultivate friendships, but there’s no pat on the back, there’s just another name in a phone book and maybe an occasional text… That’s pessimistic I realise. But playing the piano for me is progress and accomplishment personified.

I can see me having learnt, I can feel the change and the growth in my playing, in my repertoire, in my mood. I have a favourite composer, I will save the details for a later blog but I determined to learn all of his work. I know that seems somewhat daft and copycat. I have no desire to learn or write my own music, it’s not one of my talents, I know that already, but what I do know is I love his pieces, I like playing them, the way they feel, the running notes, the epic crescendo’s, the softness…

So, this post really only has one message, as ever as a conclusion. What’s your passion? Go find something you loved doing, and do it. Whether it was a squash game with buddies every week, or a bath that you no longer get time to take, or swimming … or anything. Rediscover it, explore it, enjoy it. We only live once and life’s far to full of the un-fun stuff. Its time reclaimed the things we do love.

Lies, Laughter and Life.

We all lie. We do it everyday, all day. We present the us we want to be seen, the one that’s perfectly happy, with no problems, dressed and looking spotless or unintentionally not. We pretend to lead the life we want to, and cover up all the blemishes in the brick work.

It’s not intentional, we just do. We aren’t the same at home as we are at work, the same at work as we are out on a night out, the same there as we are with friends, or with a partner. We all lie to get through the day. We pretend to know what we’re doing and yet really, we don’t. We’re all bumbling along pretending to know what we’re doing.

But we don’t really. None of us do. We’re all trying to make our way through life the best way we can. We make mistakes try to forget we havent, try to learn and rush headlong into the next drama, dilemma and discovery. Isn’t that the fun in life though?

It makes me wonder though, what do we hide. What do we hide about ourselves. I guess it relates to this idea of being to harsh with ourselves, but we do hold a lot back. I’m a surprisingly private person, this blog is fairly liberating to speak my mind. I’m not a closed book,I’m open and honest but rarely will you hear me in person actually talking directly about my life. I just tend, not too. Not intentionally, just that’s me I guess. Private is private.

With those that do know me well, and are involved, they know as well as I do – there’s a little bit of me you’ll never touch. A little piece of me I keep just to myself, not just my deepest darkest secrets, well not primarily, but the essence of me. People say I’m mysterious, or intriguing whether I agree or not I’d debate but… however long we’re together they feel like they’re always getting to know me, finding things out. I like holding something back. You give everything of yourself, to someone, especially a partner and they leave, what do you have?

What’s important is to not conceal the true you completely. You can’t be guarded, a closed text, something that people have to prise into, or they wont. They’ll give up, they’ll think you’re hard work and they’ll realise they never will get you. The world doesn’t have to know your business but someone has to know, you.

It was listening to this song and musing further about my recent more, philosophical posts that I just thought- Maybe we should take the time to make sure we do know everyone around us, that we’ve really connected. After a break down of a relationship of a year and a half, we realised, we never dated. We never got to know each other, properly. Things got complicated and shit happens as does in life, and other things got in the way, he moved away, then there was family problems. Somehow we didn’t have the time to find us or find each other out. We’ve lived fairly, superficially, liking each other, loving each other but missing something in between.

How many people do you know and yet know nothing about? How many people in your life you spend a great deal of time with, get on with, laugh with but no virtually nothing about them and they you. It’s a surprising number and I think, well, its kind of funny. What an odd way to spend our lives and yet we do. Maybe those friendships work and survive because we don’t get bogged down with each others problems and become friends that are agony aunts, comrades and counsellors all in one, maybe. Or maybe we don’t feel the need because, it’s easier not to get to know someone, and just, have acquaintances. Less effort, less time, less… energy wasted if you don’t get on. After all, maybe you can just be there and be the support by your presence, doesn’t mean they need to know all your woes or you them. You’re the, positive friend.

Well anyways. Another fleeting thought…The Weepies, ‘Nobody knows me at all’, from ‘Say I am you.’

When I was a child everybody smiled, nobody knows me at all
Very late at night and in the morning light, nobody knows me at all
Now I got lots of friends, yes, but then again, nobody knows me at all
Kids and a wife, it’s a beautiful life, nobody knows me at allAnd oh when the lights are low
Oh with someone I don’t knowI don’t give a damn, I’m happy as a clam, nobody knows me at all
Ah, what can you do? There’s nobody like you. Nobody knows me at allI know how you feel, no secrets to reveal, nobody knows me at all
Very late at night and in the morning light, nobody knows me at all
Nobody knows me, nobody knows me, nobody knows me at all

Lifes intricacies.

We all love the simple life. Or we like to think so. Our lives are so overcomplicated, its life’s little treasures, or own little pleasures that make it worthwhile, really.

  • Walking along a beach. I’ve mentioned it a lot on my blog recently, and that’s because I’ve returned to my parents home at the coast and have spent every evening if not most of my day sitting, or wandering blissfully. Its my calm place. my special place. What beats a deserted beach?
  • A sweet cup of tea. With just one sugar. When your tired at the end of the day, or maybe your feeling under the weather. That hot sweet taste, glancing your taste buds. Just gets me – every time.
  • Unexpected smiling. You know when you just smile. For no apparent reason, a good old grin. It might be a song comes on you like, or you may just have a little thought to yourself. It could be seeing someone you didn’t know you’d missed or wanted to see. But that massive grin that just creeps up on you. The one that makes strangers in the street look like your mad.
  • Singing out loud with headphones on. I know I’m not a great singer, but singing at the top of your lungs, is something incredible. Doing it when no one can hear; the song cant mask your own terrible attempts at a well-known tune, well that’s carefree at its best.
  • Plucking my eyebrows. Yes an odd one. But I’m a little brow obsessed. Having been lumbered with my fathers brows and constantly teased for having slugs as a kid. I love looking at them when they’re perfect, if a little red, gorgeously shaped.
  • Antique shops. I never buy anything, it’s just a browsing activity. They’re mainly full of rubbish or old furniture, costume jewellery and war memorabilia, but there’s something special about items from the past. Of times good-bye, the good times, or so it always seems. Everything looks full of character, decadent, loved.
  • A good row. Maybe that’s just me, but getting all that tension out, having everything out in the open, a good shout. Getting rid of tension and pressure, or clearing the air.
  • Getting post. How irrational is it to excited about receiving a letter. I guess it goes back to being a kid. Your parents always seemed to get a letter, and the only time you did was a special occasion, a birthday or a ‘passing your exams’ sort of thing. But I still, love, getting mail. Even if I know it’s secretly a bill disguised.
  • A good cry. Especially at an emotional film. Nothing better, sometimes you don’t need to cry. Your not upset but a good cry, a release of emotion, letting go. Something about it, just, makes you feel better after I guess.
  • Nonsense conversations. When you sit and muse about nothing, someone makes a random comment and that’s if you are off at a complete tangent, discussing something completely pointless and hypothetical, with excitement and a great deal of enthusiasm.
  • A cuddle. I mean a proper cuddle. One of those long hugs with someone when you completely relax and just stand or sit, nestled into them, a perfect comfortable fit and feel altogether safe.
  • Laughing Hysterically. Everyone likes laughing but with my mum its a whole new experience. We both get the giggles over nothing. Stomach crunching, shaky giggles. When you can’t breathe and looks slightly like your having af it, heaving in silence with your eyes watering, only to suddenly take a massive deep breath and carry on. Laughing till your stomach hurts.
  • Driving.  I know that’s an odd one for most people who find driving a means to an end, a boring experience, but for me its the ultimate freedom, driving around aimlessly. you can go anywhere, do anything, see anything. It’s not just the experience its the drive.  Changing down to slow and hearing the revs kick higher, the acceleration as you overtake something, the gentle wobble as you sit chugging in traffic. The smooth leather of the wheel, worn where your hands are…. I am never happier than when out on my own, down some country lanes, just driving, for driving sake.
  • First times. First experiences of anything. That mix of trepidation, anticipation and excitement all rolled into one. It could be a personal achievement, or something you’ve always wanted to do, it could be conquering a fear or starting something new with that special someone in your life. Whatever it is, that mixed curdling feeling. You know your on the brink of something great.

They are but a few things in life that make it all a little bit better. I could go into the more amusing personal ones, but they’re the ones that always spring to mind. They may be obvious, but isn’t that just because, they’re the things we all appreciate and enjoy most?

Lyrics – The Literature of our Generation.

Nothing I’m about to say is new. It’s not at all profound or original. In fact I’m sure it’s a repeat of the words that every music lover will have ever uttered a thousand times. Buuuut….

Music is the lifeblood of the soul.  Doesn’t it just, get you? Between the eyes, in the back of the throat, with a slap across the face and right in the groin… It’s amazing how it can affect your mood. Reflect your mood. We all have our happy tunes, the ones you put on, on a bad day, when it’s raining, when the boss is moaning, when you burnt the tea, and the partners is driving you mad… and yet. It doesn’t matter; You’re out, on the tiles, your dancing in your head. Your singing your little heart out, with the biggest smile on your face. Without out it, we’d all be lost. What better expresses a feeling, an emotion, elation and depression, heartache and love…

A song can take you right back. To a time when you were a different you, to a moment you’d love to relive or rather forget. I’m writing this because walking along my coastline the other day, with my mum’s ipod on, there came a track. It came out of the blue and there I was, 14, dancing in the kitchen with mum, singing in the car, dancing in my mirror. I should be ashamed, it should be filed away with things you just never admit too, but I’m proud to say –  I sung my heart out to the acoustic (that makes all the difference I promise you) James Dean – by the delectable Daniel Bedingfield. Oh yes.

“I wanna know if your busy, Yeah yeah, I wanna know if you’re doing anything tonight,

I wanna know if you missed me baby,I wanna know baby. I wanna know…”

But that’s just it. It captured a specific time in my life and for me it’ll always be an iconic track however bad, or cheesy it is. However much I shouldn’t like it. Its like every one of your favourite bad songs, it’s a guilty pleasure. But that’s music…. Its individual.

Its art in at its very best. If it’s not a moment, or a feeling, a sensation or a mood, then its most certainly capturing a sentiment. Lyrics can somehow reflect your own story, touch you so close to home that it’s as though you wrote them yourself. They can capture something you didn’t think you could put into words. They can be poetic, or cheesy, sexual (more than likely) or sensitive. But they always a carry a meaning. They might not reach out to you, but they will somewhere. That’s the beauty of it. Lyrics are the literature of our generation, the memory board of the individual.