Horror

‘A picture is worth a thousand words.’

Or so they say.

If you’re using words to describe an image, there is simply no amount you can string together to give someone the entirety of the scene in 3D visual colour (unless perhaps you and the other person are colour blind, but even then it falls short of the mark).

I find the best way of accurately describing anything is not through words or through images, but through experiences.  People, expressions, colours, the breeze even… is never the same in photographs as it is to see it, feel it, taste it, hear it or smell it. The tangible cannot be substituted and that which we miss out on experiencing with our five senses we categorise as ‘unreal’ or a ‘fantasy’.

I believe there is a sixth sense. Not the sci-fi version of ‘I see dead people’ but rather a sense of faith. Considering a majority of the population on earth believe in a god or some higher power, it’s not exactly easy to deny that when we believe in something, we can’t sense it. Otherwise, why would you believe it if you can’t feel it? There’s that little nagging cricket down in the pit of your stomach telling you that it’s real. It’s something you can’t explain, there’s no way of knowing how or why, but fact of the matter is it’s there and it’s real. THAT is the sixth sense.

Now I’m freaked out Freddie Krueger is going to rip his nails into me tonight.

Moods

Starting something can more often than not be the hardest part of any venture. When I try to envision myself fulfilling a lifelong dream of writing and actually publishing a book, it’s not the beginning of the story that I find myself drawn to – it’s the middle. The part where things start to complicate and the main character has so many issues going on that their head is about to burst. It’s quite difficult to write the lead-up to any climax as the emotions felt by the characters are so complex and varied that it stresses me out trying to help them not to be stressed out. I’m getting stressed right now just remembering the pent up aggravation I felt trying to make it through the final chapters of a story when everyone in the damn book just wanted to go haywire and completely veer from any sense of normality in a fictional story.Phew!

I think this is why I don’t write so much anymore. When things get toodifficult with other peoples lives, as much as I’m a shoulder to cry on, I endup going ‘Stuff this, these are NOT my problems!’ and walk away. When anauthor, you simply can’t do that… and I struggle with that side of things! Why can’t it be easy?

Blanked

A Sunday consisting of movies in bed, chats with the neighbours and a general lack of doing any form of housework was how I spent yesterday. The sun rose and I reluctantly rose a couple of hours after it, cursing my body for not being able to go back to sleep and stay asleep for a rather long period of time. After attending a wedding the previous day as bridesmaid and driving two hours home after the reception that evening, the last thing I felt like doing was, well, anything. The knowledge that no work was waiting for me today (Garfield's most loathed day of the week - Monday) didn't seem to help my body relax, all I could do was feel guilty that I wasn't doing anything. This rings to me as laziness. The general lack of want to do anything and yet the ongoing nagging in my brain telling me to finish the washing and mop the floors... maybe even wash the dog.

It turned out today hasn't been so bad. Being officially 'unemployed' leaves me open to interviews at any time of the day - bingo! Let's hope that in approximately 40 minutes I will find out whether or not I shall be once again employed and not have to drag out the anticipation of ongoing interviews days, maybe even weeks apart. As we all know, money is something we all need. Not necessarily want (I, for one, despise the concept of paper notes and gold coins) but is however the most common posession for a person to have. Without money, where would we be? Considering time travel to the stone age is out of the equation and bartering for chickens in a temple isn't how we purchase our food, I'm gonna say the homeless child in the gutter in Calcutta.

All of a sudden I feel very fortunate and grateful for my life and un-paid phone bill that I currently have the money to pay... as soon as I get around to it.

All By Myself

It's said that showers let the water wash away all thoughts, problems and provocations. Perhaps the people claiming these 'facts' are in fact, braindead. Since when have you gone into a shower and not thought, worried or cried? I sit here, on my bed, wrapped in the fluffiest towel I own, which has coincidentally been in my posession since I first moved to a beach side town at 5 and pour out my heart or maybe my brain and it's overcrowded thoughts into a keyboard and onto a screen.

As of late I've stopped playing music when having a shower or a bath just to see if the solidarity of it might be a tad bit more soothing... alas, I come out feeling stunted like a newt, at odds with the problems racing each other back and forth in my head. If it wasn't for the fact that you also feel clean after lathering yourself up with a chosen brand of scented soap, there'd almost be no point.

To be fair, the music goes on as soon as I enter my crowded bedroom, prolonging the sense of loneliness instilled by quiet showers and an empty dining room at meal times. It's almost as though every problem I have I don't take action to sort out until I've lived with the misery for a little while, clutching to it as though it were a fluffy teddy when sleeping. I like to take the problem, close my hand around it softly and blow it out again through the gaps between my fingers, feeling as though part of it I am in control of and denying it the right to mentally affect me. Meanwhile, a majority of it floats around me, engulfing me in hysterical laughter, saying 'Ha-ha, you are as little as a peanut.'

This is all in my head isn't it?

The Truth

"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife." - Jane Austen

I've found this statement true not only with wealthy men but with the less fortunate also. The only exception to this general rule is the middle class. The ones that think they've got it all!
It seems it's always the middle class that, when given the opportunity to experience the 'party life' or 'social scheme' they deny marriage as being of any value to their long term plans and more of a hindrance than a help. I'm not sure why this is as statistically proven middle class men are more prone to being faithful to their partners (the term 'partner' is used rather loosely) then the less fortunate or well off.
It makes my head spin. My man is in the middle class... and although I believe with all my heart (if such a thing exists) that he is and will be faithful to me, he has no positive comments to make on the subject of two people saying the vow 'I do.' I hear that is has no value and is an unnecessary commitment to make when you both already know that you love each other. When first brought up in conversation it wasn't dropped for a number of days until I agreed alongside him that marriage was an unnecessary formality and that two people can be quite happy without sharing the last name. Oh please.

Perhaps it's me having concerns about the future and wanting the 'official commitment' to be made, just so I'm aware of how far he really is willing to go for me. At this stage in life, I thought I'd be further along than I am, but realistically I'm right back where I started; four years old and setting up a baby nursery in the corner of my room, using Barbie's man Ken as the father.

After mulling over this issue in my head for the better part of 2 months I think I've finally had to come to that peace of mind that, I'm with this man for better or for worse because I love him and with or without the vows, my commitment to him in my head and my heart outweighs that which can be spoken aloud with words. He is my forever and I will stick by him through thick and thin until maybe one day he realises that out of anything he can do to make me happy, a ring on my finger would be the icing on the cake.

Or is that the cherry?