When I think of the word History, I think – ha ha!
I think of all my experiences.
I think of all the times I never listened to others, all the adventures -risky and dangerous -that I took myself on.
I think about where I am today – or rather how I think about my personal history.
I find it useless to blame my parents or ex-partners or people who abused me at whatever age- not because I don’t think they had an impact on some of the decisions I made in life.
Some people were held accountable either by the law or good old karma and others went and still continue to go through their own life shit.
I can’t do anything to change my history. I can’t make a person talk me ( I can try to and have done) or love me or want to know more about me.
I find the more I rag at my past or people in my past – the less productive I am in my present life.
When I come to terms with say, a childhood experience or heartbreak/betrayal and I decide to forgive (not forget);
I’ve seen how this conscious act to look ahead instead of looking backward has helped me deal with my past, in unexpected ways.
Classic example: I was very hurt about the relationship I had with my Dad for many years and then, when I decided to focus on how I could try and move our relationship forward, Life found a way for us to have some kind of relationship.
He lives in Africa. I’m in the U.K. and I really love those silly IQ tests /knowledge tests on Facebook and so does my Dad!
It’s our time together. It’s a way I have found to get to know my dad, have a laugh, feel connected to him and it’s helped me see my Dad as a human.
I have been able to talk with him on skype and let him see who I really am- Who I have grown up to be. I’ve had the uncomfortable ‘I don’t know what to say’ and worked through it.
This is just one example.
I think if I had carried on being on the offensive – not being contact with him and thinking and feeling whatever it was I did, I don’t think I would have some part of my Dad in my life today.
Should he have reached out? I’m not even going there.
The point is I know how to reach out to people, I know I’m in control of me.
I don’t always get it right.
When I think of certain people and situations I’ve caused or found myself in- I can be confrontational and maybe those people aren’t ready or in a place to be a part of my life in a way, I want them to be.
It’s hard for me to accept other people’s choices.
I don’t give in.
The people I make time and effort for in the past or now- I do genuinely care about these people.
Eventually, I have to respect that not everyone wants me around or likeS me or …..who knows what they think!
So, I have to suck it up – cry, refocus my energy and live my Life.
I don’t forget these people.
I often want these people to succeed even the people who made life hell for me.
The people who tried to bring me down – one example,
At my hen do. I was looking good, my mental state was great and I felt good about me and I had an energy around me. I invited a bunch of friends out and one of the girls who I met through a relative – made the remark
” You’ve put on weight haven’t you”
My mates were horrified knowing how far I’ve come with my issues.
It took a couple days for my rage to kick in. I had it out with her and then I decided this girl has a LOT of her own issues.
Her life hasn’t been easy and isn’t and I’m not going to fall for it.
So even today, I big this person up. I encourage her to achieve dreams. I’m not best mates with her!
Fuck, I’m not stupid. ha ha!
I need positive people around me.
I just realized that she saw something in me that maybe she didn’t have and it’s easier to try and bring a person down than be happy for someone.
Not everyone is on the same level of thinking you and I are on.
We all have a narrative, a past, a history. We deal with ourselves 24 hours a day.
Sometimes we try to escape from ourselves,
We drug ourselves to get away from ourselves.
Be it with sugar, food, cigs, weed, prescription meds, alcohol, crack, spice, legal highs, extreme sports, sex, porn, money.
I’m glad I’ve had people run me down in life.
I’m not ecstatic about it but I can see the benefits of it – looking baaa ack over my shoulder…. ( like the song)
I am a person who is genuine, I have empathy, I filter my judgments, I forgive, I set boundaries, I reset boundaries.
I know what I believe in- what I am passionate about.
People do still challenge me.
I’m an observer and I ‘ve learned how to respond to certain types of people. Some people need to be spoken to how they speak to others.
If someone doesn’t get me -I’ve learned there are many who will and do.
I just put myself out on a limb and it feels like torture but I hang in there -until I’m just about to give up, then somebody or something comes into my life and reaffirms what I believe in.
I’m not saying my beliefs and values and the way I live are right for everyone but they are right for me.
I know what I need to work on and I do ask for help.
January is coming to a close –
no more Just January Jots.
I’ve enjoyed the word prompts. I never know what will come out of my head.
It’s sunny and I have lots of work to do and I’m feeling optimistic, scared and determined.
Thanks for reading
Paper, rock or scissors?
Choose one and you may win treasures.
Congrats you have received a one-year wedding anniversary.
I’m not even married – how is this a gift I can accept ever so gratefully, oh harry?
Will you marry me? I can make it true.
Alison threw a rock -aimed for the right side of Harries’ forehead- blood leaked out leaving his lips blue.
A twisty smile caught the ends of Alison’s mouth.
She needed a pair of scissors to cut out his heart.
Grim, I agree but her character is slighly Magee.
Squiggled by all the paper cut out men she’s collected over the years.
Paper mache collage project- in an attempt to fix her heart.
Glue worked better when she inhaled it’s fumes .
She would depersonalise from her very self and awake discombulated- and rather confused.
This is the sad tale of how alison decided she needed to repair her heart.
She flipped a coin that flipped her mind – all in one turnabout,
she came around -started singing the the Hokie Cokie.
Her twisted jive improved when the moon drew in a little closer.
She could almost hear a beating heart – she put her hand to her chest and,
well, she fell apart.
Envious stares at Man Mickey Finn – his heart beat loudly annd glowered within.
He was her first.
First attempt to re enter the game of tick tockers.
Little did she know that this manic method would send her over to the bog marsh rockers.
Frozen on ice add a straw and a blueberry, she sipped her amorous bloody cocktail – Mary already had men gouging her blood everyday.
Shaken not stirren.
Stern she was shaking.
What did Mary’s conception have that made men fall head over heel and lap for her attention?
Frowned, knitted eyebrows – she added her own rouge splash to the mix.
Men looked straight throught her – perhaps she needed a bar of a twix?
She had a cunning plan- not evolved or well thought out . She tuned up her senses whenever men were about.
The throbbing , pulstating came not from the heart.
An alarming discovery – It came from below the waist.
Mary – scartlet virgin? miracle, my arse!.
Poor Alison only wanted to feel desired.
When she went for her next ingredient,
she balked at its form and tried to appeal to its art .
Phallic and paternal it made her blush from the internal .
How would she get it to stay erect so she could snip it off when it was ready to launch and eject?
She tickled the floating accompanied planets and amusement came out in oohs and aahs .
Just a little longer, Alison thought blustered through scrunched up eyes.
make sure you aim for the right glass and not the glass eye.
The navy would be proud of her solid sea legs.
She mixed this new concoction. so sure she was,
she convinced me she was devout.
Up the straw the gloopy mixture reached her swollen taste buds.
Horrified she spat it out – perhaps she needed to make it a little more tart.
She came acrosss a nursing mother – whipped out her hunting tools.
Crying Babe clattered to the tarmac. Scattered Mother one breast left on the right side.
Shake it up and down the hatch . She waited for the rush of ardours to pour in.
Misery entered without a courterous knock. Sit down you gapless, toothy banshee of distrust.
Tears rung around her neck -weighing in at a hefty sized albatross.
The grief of being ignored compelled her into complete disorder.
How could she end this frenzied quest without settling into a forlorn heap of a mess?
Then a thought rainbowed across her mind. It lifted the burdened clouds and she put her hand to mouth to suppress a giggle.
If no one would have her then she knew what was best.
Alison abandoned her empathy in the puddle of complicated attempts to gain acceptance.
She proudly took her first step into her role as the the Queen of hearts.
If men wouldn’t love her, she would make sure they could love no other.
What a dreadful tale, is there are moral to end this fable – make it an epic!
I get bonus points if I end this and say she transformed – yes she did and serve this as warning on how to never ignore the self- proclaimed pious.
Yes, I am still plowing my way through year one of my Masters.
Woop! Running around like a yam shouting May day May day!
That is the month, Year one will be over and done with.
Aren’t you enjoying yourself, Daisy?
I enjoy myself when I see results! Deadlines keep my pressure up and my heart racing.
My next deadline is 2nd of Feb!
I started off with what could potentially turn into a novella with a heavily dense, plotted story about a woman with DID and an Alter ego that wants revenge on a past attack.
All super fab and exciting to research and write but I only have 2000 words I’m allowed to write give or take 10%
I was then inspired by this quote:
JUST KIDDING! IT WAS ACTUALLY THIS ONE.
I spent 12 hours drafting a whole new story about a woman trying to come to turns with an affair/ obsession/fantasy she has (in a group therapy setting). Plenty of surrealness.
Then Christmas happened – Alan Kaprow -‘ it’s a happening baby!’
Not my kind of happening, however, I will admit I enjoyed spending time with my family and friends.
There is a lot in the media – specifically social media about suicide prevention and keeping us humans safe, with telephone numbers to sign post us to organizations who may help if we are having a shitty time.
I think this is fantastic!
It also prompted me to put story two on the back burner and delve into my current draft which is some kind of supernatural -esque piece. I feel I can plot (without unwittingly out plotting myself or my character/s)
There is a lot of internal conflicts which contrasts with the Main characters environment/ the other characters in the piece.
It’s ahem.. fucking depressing to write.
Today, I had to stop twice for a break, it was that emotionally draining to finish the second draft.
It ends in death and a resolution that is reflective, real and tragic.
This is all just my opinion, of course – ha ha!
I’m currently taking advice off of my own Mummy -dearest!
inject the piece with humor, darling. Be witty. You’re a hoot in real life.
People laugh at me not with me. The people who know me really well and see the real me- sometimes do laugh me with me.
I have got a twisted, dark sense of humor and well, let’s hope I can convey it so it translates to the reader marking it. Must work on being funnier. I can do funny in real life
Yes, I’m still going for my first TMA to be reassessed.
OH MY WORDY HAT!
Then, I have the constant worry of my third TMA – another 18-minute play.
I’m exploring doing a piece on a couple who decide to have a baby or try to and maybe the mother can’t make up her mind whether she wants the child or not.
Does she lose the baby?
Does she have an issue with boys?
Does she only want a girl?
What does this bloody woman want?
I’m good at putting in obstacles in the way and creating tension – I put my characters through hell.
Oh, and then we have the final piece due at the end of May.
DareI state, I’m continuing with the second part (or act if you like) of my homelessness couple piece, I started in TMA 1.
I’m swotting up on Brecht, Stanislavsky, Meyerhold, Grotowski, Artaud etc…
Here’s a question: All these (and more) playwrights of the 19/20th century inspired and evolved theater into what we have today.
Immersive theater/street theater/ forum theatre=- the list goes on and on.
These playwrights wrote about and performed plays that reflected the historical time that they lived in.
Why if I say in my commentary that I’m inspired by certain Brechtian techniques? does that automatically translate that I am doing a complete copy cat Brechtian play?
Don’t many successful modern/contemporary playwrights of our time take a bit from different (even contrasting theories about theater) at times, to make something that is relevant to what they want to see performed?
SMALL rant- 😉
Can’t I be inspired by say; Brecht and his ‘estrangement’ techniques and ‘Gestus’ (without using it to the extremes he employed his techniques in his era?
He essentially hated the overly dramatic French and the German style theatre in his time. He lived in one of the most insane times- the communist era, wars, exile etc..
Of course ( because I know what he was thinking -sarcasm alert), he wanted the audience or just one audience member to go home and think a bit more about what they went to watch.
Perhaps, Brecht wanted witnesses 😀 to get the cogwheels turning with questions like
Does it have to end like this?
Did it have to end like this? (in a historical context)
What can I do as a person who has just gone to see a play themed around social issues?
Maybe an audience member/s could come to a conclusion (or not) that maybe their previous ideas (if any) about social change issues comes from within.
Not a government, not other people but from me, you?
Politics are heavy going so a play/ production does need to be entertaining – it’s a tricky pair up to get right.
Sometimes, a member of the audience may (or may not) think:
‘What I am seeing here can’t be a representation of a real person or what goes on in real life -or can it?
That is cool – they are in a theater watching something made up essentially, no?
I don’t know anymore. I’m up to my ears in theories and being creative and trying to stay true to myself and my reasons for writing.
I do have enough sense to think about doing a full on Brecht/Grotowski/insert playwrights name here to show I can do it.
I may struggle- it might not be amazing or great but I can bloody well do it.
My stubbornness does serve me well at times.
Right, rant over.
Tomorrow, I get a small break from thinking about fictional characters. I’m off bright and early to talk about if/how I can help my community with the skills I already have. I don’t need to be a BA graduate or a business owner or a mother or someone studying their Masters.
I merely have to be me! Full of flaws!
I feel so passionate about this project. I don’t want to jinx it by talking about it. I can’t talk about it- It would have to go in my volunteering page- Ha ha!
Please send me your positive vibes, mantras, empowering thoughts – all of that positivity shit. I fucking love it!
I need it – it helps me – it keeps me on the right path.
So, to end this ranty and rather a profane post
I will end in my mantra ( Second year of using it and it hasn’t let me down yet)
” I am successful at whatever I do”
I put the hard graft in too.
Thanks for reading my ranty post.
Peace, love, light and a bit of attitude embellished with hearts ❤ and fleurs.
I’m a Jedi at laying my heart and mind and soul for all to see in the written or oral form.
This post, I’ve been putting off.
Wondering what I’m doing with my life?
My life looks amazing in black and white and pink.
It is amazing!
Until, I focus on perfecting something to the point where I know that I will never see perfection. It is something I am yet to put a limit on.
I push the goal post of perfection every time I think I’m nearly there.
I stepped back from blogging, volunteering and doing work in my community to essentially focus on this Masters.
Not a bad thing.
Since I started out on this particular path, I’ve become over consumed with it. Nothing else exists in my mind but this.
An unhealthy obsession?
Here’s me laying myself bare. No cameras – ha ha! you will be put off for life.
I didn’t think I would be accepted or get help to get on this Masters degree. I went for my goal like a rabid dog.
I got what I wanted. A death wish.
I’m stubborn enough to know how to get what I want. Or,at least what I think I want.
Reassessing the situation in the place I am in now, I’ve realized my reasons for doing this degree is not to write novels or random stage plays or just any genre of fiction.
My main goal has always been to use it as a ‘feather in my cap’,and an added bonus to use it in my C.V. so, that I can continue to work in my community with the people and issues that I am passionate about.
Vulnerable members of our community.
I want to do this in a creative way.
Not a let’s go to the doctor and get a script and go to CBT and get in the system.
I started this blog around the time I was doing a 12-week programme called WRAP. (September 2015)
I wouldn’t shut up about.
I still don’t.
Then, this summer I was given the opportunity to do an intensive 5-day training course to be a Wrap facilitator.
I worked my ass off. It was rough but I did it. I thought I was losing my mind.
I write about themes such as homelessness mental health issues, inequality, politics.
I did get a decent mark on my TMA 1 – but most of the comments ( in my humble opinion) are patronizing, insulting, subjective and contradictory – to not only my own experience, knowledge, and research of stagecraft and the subject I choose to write about.
It was insulting to the people I work with and where I want to establish myself in the future.
So, on principle, I am still going for a remark.
In order to get a Switzerland reassessment, I have to appeal for a remark to get another assessment.
I’ve stuck up for myself when I felt like hiding away from the life.
I’ve had my viewpoint heard.
I’m still doing my MA.
I’m already on to the next TMA and I have hit all my deadlines so far. I’m still in the same writer’s forum group I started out in.
I don’t mind feeling uncomfortable. I’ve lived with myself for 35 years.
Others might have a problem. I don’t! Not my issue.
I am open to learning from my tutor who I am entitled to disagree with and within my rights to question. I might not get an answer 😀
I don’t know this person well enough to make a remark on their character or who they are.
I can only go by the feedback, my work and my ‘come back’ to answers and things I don’t agree with or that I’ve already referenced to back up the decisions I made.
Back to re-evaluating where I want to be and where I want to focus my energies.
I’m not going to stop writing or talking about my passions (in a way) that show a true representation of the subject and the people who inspire me to write.
Fuck writing to tick boxes and conform to one person’s idea.
I’m enjoying learning.
There’s a wealth of resources and information that I am picking up with the academic side of writing, reading others work, reading other writers feedback -this includes the one/people who mark my work.
I’m open minded.
I believe I can learn something from anyone, anything- doesn’t have to be human.
My daughter teaches me several things on daily basis. She is 5 years old.
I’ve decided to go with my heart and my passion and get involved in a project that allows me to get creative with others and use WRAP’s key core concepts and ethics.
I get to be unconventional. A responsible rebel! EPIC!
I get to be a part of something that could help others before their issues become diagnosed illnesses in the current model of treatment we rely on to live our lives in as well as a physical and mental state as possible.
My MA is a bonus, in my opinion.
WOW! I get to be creative in my work life, social life and I get to have fun blogging and learning from so many different people.
Someone is getting paid to read my work and mark it!
True, I am paying them ( MA’s are not cheap)
I asked to do this degree – knowing full well I put myself up for the role of guinea pig.
Of course, there is going to be teething problems. It’s a learning curve for everyone involved. Students, tutors, the people who fund it.
I’m in it.
I’m committed to doing this first year, on the condition, that I will make it less of a priority to where I have placed it since I started it in October 2016.
My people – my circle – my family are my priority. Yo dawg, gone all ghetto! 😀
My interests, my passion, what I do on a day to day basis to fulfill myself and bring in some cash is my priority.
Blogging is a priority – I might go under the radar for a bit and miss out on reading some of your posts.
I’m not going anywhere.
I don’t do New years resolutions.
I prefer to spread my goals out over a longer period than one month.
It does work for me. Less pressure.
Since I’ve realised my priorities , I’m enjoying life again.
Writing, studying, reading.
I’m so excited and honored to be a part of something I feel so much passion for in my community.
We are all stars.
I felt as if I was dying – burning out!
I found out I’m not.
I just needed to scout around to find a place in the sky that allows me to shine a little more brightly.
EVERYONE SING 😉
‘Twinkle twinkle little star…’
Of course, it’s awesome to receive praise.
I use it as a self-motivation tool to achieve my goals.
We are all different. We all want different things.
I am no different.
Seems obvious. ha ha!
I’m doing what I feel is right for me and my health and the people I surround myself with. They have to live with me.
Nothing complicated – just plain writing with no fancy flowers around it.
I’m the best decoration I have -I make no apologies for figuring my shit out.
words tantalize her very mind.
every adjective ,every noun resounds in the primal part of her -hidden and bound.
Let loose to its device it would seduce a nation of puritans .
Her sin is her lifestyle.
She heard this from the one who set her mind free with tempting condiments.
Honey dripping, swarming bees pollinating with a delicate fleur.
opening one up to her fullest bloom – Every species took one look at her and at the same time uttered the name: Allure.
Saucy enough to steam rouge to her usually pale cheeks.
Thoughts of rollicking in clouds, scented of meadow dew satin sheets.
Thorns might sting when they draw blood from the skin,
only you will know if it is worth pursuing the unrequited ache from the arousing pain consuming you from within.
Tempting, stealthlike- scented whispers , send flowered vines, to contain too much movement, from your limbs .
skin on skin contact is pure.
where is the shame of needing to remember what it is to live -fill the arid ,parched crevices, in need of moist hymns?
Trust, this fleur won’t hurt you, not even when you tempt her with mental visions that send her sweet nectar into a frenzied hive -alerting drones, intoxicated .
Merely, one queen combing her hair – let down your guard -let go of the bumbling confusion.
She can protect you,stop you from ignoring the drumming of what your heart truly yearns,
Connected by an incongruent rhythm , a dance you both control by merely partaking in making up the infusion.
Lilac and lavender -fields of frivolous laughter and secret ,coy smiles.
Lay down in fields born out of mother nature – her approval aligns your contoured bodies by joining in with earth tremors – exasperating your gratified sighs.
Free spirited, close to the ocean. She wants to be entangled – one body -a symbiotic union of something quite close to adoration.
Waves of emotions to deep sea dive in. La Tresor de la Mer – reeds, fish, seabeds ,caves to navigate together – dive in the deep end to begin with this exploration .
How to know if two souls are meant to keep the other lit?
A meeting of minds – a meeting of many kinds before one can promise the other that somehow they can see how it will come together and fit.
Hold your breath and enjoy the ride. Don’t struggle against the motion, the tide , leave la Mer to her dramatic side.
When you stop fighting and accept that water was 9 months of your first gilded breath.
Will we know if,
we are meant to glide and soar and tumble in the same sky -with nothing to hide -publicly side by side.
Finally, a door to close does it take away the pain to hear someone fully disclose?
Toxic. Out of time . Black -outs. Authenticate. History can’t be re written.
Heart rattling in its skeleton cage. Tears gushing out from myopic places – disarray. Conclusion.
Accept the consequences of living life without a protective mitten.
Move on. Take care.
Soft heart. Cuddly bear.
Vulnerable – exposed.
Spanish inquisition style is her only way to get full closure.
She is on a winning streak on the latest TV. game show – money adding up -indecent exposure.
Think rational Don’t internalise .
How much does she need to gauge the right amount to ease these emotions -without hitting the button- screeching -OVERDOSE.
Self-medicate is not the answer. Why bother with coulda ,shoulda, wouldas?
Maybes-immobilise a man – sends the mightiest into a deep state of comatose.
Past, take a seat and shut those eyes – rest your weary feet. Think what you have in front of you .
This moment- right now – shake off the claustrophobic smoke from what was.
This library book is well overdue
5-year-old kids threatening to kill her child.
Overnight intravenous drip infusion of exotic chilis. Early morning walk into the head teacher’s office. Papa Bear keeps reminding Mama bear to lay the mustard mild.
Spice is the variety of life.
Seeing red. Take the hangman game, notch it up a bit.
Educate these children. Don’t mind if she deals out a few electroconvulsive therapy shocks. Seek not for debasement.
Want to be a kidult? Open up your books to page titled Life-osphy.
One. Learn how to spell the word K.I.L.L.
Two. Ask yourself: do I understand what the word KILL means?
Three. You lose. Mama bear has plenty of rope.
Feet dangling, eyes bulge, lips turn blue.
Take a few tissues to mop up your hypocrisy.
Mommy, I feel sad. they hurt my feelings.
You made her child cry.
You left her high and dry – how many nights out of two months has she had a dry night since you started taunting her,poor child ?
Tickets please for rocky horror fun fair ride.
You called her name three times. Have your best moves ready for a real nightmare to arise.
Not in nappies anymore. Little boys throwing out words. Mess with her own and she will have you crawling – no time to deliberate or surmise.
You’re old enough to threaten her daughter .
You’re old enough to face the consequences.
Rational mind . Anti-bully campaign awareness still fresh in our consciousnesses.
We take this seriously.
Does she look like she is laughing?
Is this comedy night at the Apollo?
The only heckles she will be hurtling out will have silver bullets in them – everyone needs to learn how to handle a piece of lead.
HB pencil. tolerate.
Violate and harass – invalidate.
Emotions run higher than a cheetah preying on wings.
Change in medication. Not for sedation. This time, she needs a dopamine hit. Happy smiley faces.
No more tears to stain her cheeks to form bumpy glaciers.
Get them feel good buzzy fuzzy emotions kicked into touch.
Stale bread and cold tea. Why put up with such misery?
It shouldn’t matter what one person thinks!
Convince her beating heart. She will kiss your feet, make her rethink her faith.
Honesty . Upfront .
Stubborn. Don’t give up.
Whiskered eyelashes protecting the debris from burrowing in.
She manically blinks.
If your mind is in conflict with your heart. You want to move on?
Do whatever it takes. Yes – become a subject in peril – peel back the raw bark.
Even if it means feeling that stabbing pain when you find out your best mate of twenty years is actually a narc.
How does one deal with all emotion?
Duty – Crazy heretic donations.
Generic. Textbook. Not this box.
Contents fragile .
Ignore the rule. She’s already shaken.
This side up – depends on where you are standing.
Look at her shape, you will find it harder to put a form to her.
You will be forced to sit back and prepare for a crash landing.
She doesn’t want anyone to define her- She defies you.
Her child is different.
Not one drop of her blood will spill to conform to the norm and act like she is on automatic pilot in a game of grand theft auto, version 609 to fit in with this numb, dysfunctional society we exist in.
Her child is significant.
Celebrate her uniqueness.
On mama bears watch – no one is able to bring her down a level.
Look after them.
True and genuine are very few.
Partners, girlfriends, boyfriends , husbands, and wives – look at what they do?
also look at what they don’t do.
If they are getting it right more than half the time;
give them your love.
No need to sign a card with bon voyage.
Tell them you love them.
When a person is gone – there will only be a room full of stuff ,a framed photograph stuck in static to talk to or, a box full of ashes.
To have someone listen and acknowledge your pain and suffering is one of humanities’ s greatest gifts.
It supersedes a ventriloquist’s ability to throw out voices to animate a pair of eyeglasses.
It’s a rare quality to find in people.
Don’t give up. Don’t listen to the gossip.
Follow your heart,
if you know deep inside that someone is not who they make themselves out to be .
Sit with your pain and work through it.
Get out your utensils and instigate a salad toss up.
Happy endings are not whimsical.
Happy ends with tears dripping from a tap – she can’t turn it off. Sneezy Wrench of a shoddy engineer work.
There will always be another summer.
No sunshine needed. Buy a light therapy lamp.
You have to take what you can – give what you are able.
This is not a fable.
In examining yourself to get answers, make sure you are ready to bare your naked soul, to everyone you meet and greet.
Time is a merciful healer.
For now, her mirthful ending is broken in itty bits like a perfectly ,imperfect china tea cup.
So much liquid- it’s intensely bitter.
Her future is all she has to make things sweet.
She will solve that bloody sudoku.
Trick or treat?
She will do anything to keep her heart alive and filled with Amour .
She will take the pain until an angel whispers ,a reminder,in her ear.
You are not wading in the heaviness of crushed emotions and heart demotions.
This moment is all she has. How many times will she get to hear her daughter sing or say something funny?
and her husband ?
what if one day his eyes don’t open?
How would she cope with never seeing ‘them there eyes’ ?
Bambi has nothing on him. He takes the crown.
No small feat.
Little by little.
Appreciate the small,simple moments – the big stuff is just hype – you can always get back to someone later to tell them about it on Skype.
‘Don’t sweat the small stuff’ Wise – words.
Don’t ignore the small stuff. Blink and you will miss it.
You will regret it.
Time is all we have. Use it to propel you to a life you can comfortably hug, feel the sand exfoliate your feet.
No shell needed to hear the ocean.Open your mind and all of your senses and you can be anywhere you want to be.
Twitter will still be there so you can log in and tweet.
Life does not have to be lived in a state called frozen.
Hell,feel the passion burning up inside you. The destination is one you have chosen.