Feels Like Home

For Christmas, my mum and I went to my sister's house; the most homely place I know - full of children's joy, games, blankets, hugs and family photos.

For days before, my eyelids hung heavy and my head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. We worked hard all week, mum and I; 'Team Sanassee' lining the pockets of fat cats just in time for the holidays. When I had a moment to think or even breathe, I thought about how I had to pull myself out of this - the dark circles under my eyes become more sinister by the day, the fuzziness gets thicker. But how amazing to throw your bags down by the door of your biggest comfort and get hugs and kisses from the ones who look at you with unconditional love when you've been recoiling from yourself in the mirror.

It was good to spend time with my niece and nephews; it was so good to get some sleep! My mum, sister and I sat in the kitchen for many conversations and cups of tea. My sister's cat, Bambi fell in love with my baggy wooly cardigan and made me her bed, her purring soothing my restlessness. We talked about me travelling, we talked about the things I now need in my life. Mulled wine turned tiredness into softness and I sunk into the couch and breathed the deepest I had in months.

The kids' excited whispers was the nicest alarm to wake up to on Christmas morning and when I came down the stairs, everyone was swaying to Dean Martin and preparing coffee. With an abundance of new Wii games, my sister and I worked off our Christmas dinner by playing Just Dance 2 for about two hours, it reminded me just how much I love to dance, just how good it makes me feel.

We all settled down in the afternoon to watch Karate Kid; Jayden Smith reminds me a lot of one of my nephews, Kyi-Tien. He's my godson, my little star; the one that has the dream of being in the Winter Olympics and cheers me up by giving me cheesy winks and thumbs up, the 6 year old joker.

I baked my sister's boyfriend some chocolate and hazelnut cookies on Boxing Day (pictured below) because he's the kind to appreciate love that comes out of the oven. And after I had stuffed my face the entire weekend, I worked out a detox programme in my head. I'll begin this in the new year because the cheesecake that my best friend baked for me when I got home is flirting with me from the fridge and I can't possibly hurt its feelings.



The dark cirles are a little lighter, my head is a little less stuffed but new year decision making approaches. With a dose of home now in my heart, I should be able to set myself free.

All sorts and Astronauts

My nana used to say: "If you laugh too much on a Friday, you'll be crying on Sunday," a bit dismal I know, but I wondered if there was some truth to that this weekend. I've never laughed so hard on a Friday in all my life; Sunday took on a bizarre and somewhat sombre mood.

I was up on some kind of galactic high (or maybe I was just up on too many everffecent energy tablets). I got a burst of enthusiasm I haven't felt in such a long time; silliness loosened me up, widened my eyes and had me spinning. I tried to identify the stars on Google Sky Map that seemed to shine more brilliantly where I was.

There were also random one-liners about astronauts and electrons, a jaunt to Starchild (a shop name that apparantly needed to be sung theatrically) and altitude sickness from a monster set of steps - 118 of them, was it?

Natural highs...they're the best.

When you're up there you hope that you don't get called back down. Sunday forced me back down; there were tears aboard that ship; I landed with a thud. Nana would have wiggled her finger at me: "you laughed too hard on Friday."

I wanted to stay up there where my feet don't touch the ground and the joy is infinite.

Positive; "statically charged like two electrons" as someone once put it.

Pictures of Matchstick Men

With decent settings and effects on my new phone's adequate camera, I have still failed to achieve my goal of taking more pictures. I do this all the time, I make declarations about making memories, catching opportune photo moments and yet, I still have nothing worth showing you. Please tell me that I won't be forever riding on the asthetics of others to pretty up my blog! The thing is, to take pictures, and I mean really take pictures, I need to be able to capture the new in new places and the old in new perspectives but I just don't see it in the room that I've been sitting in for days. To a photographer, every moment is a photo moment. I must be more vigilant!

Pictures are great and all that but it's music that gets me every time; a moment for every song and a song for every moment. My awareness remains in my moods, my emotions and the little hairs on the back of my neck that stand up when the right song is played in synchronicity with feeling.

I had a major ipod sort-out and deleted songs I noticed I skip through these days and replaced them with old ones I've rekindled affection for...perhaps it's my constant 'I'm back here again' feeling that has me revisiting frozen moments that can be thawed out time and time again. Old pictures however, are still too difficult to look at right now...they give me a different kind of feeling, similar to the one that has you questioning your reality like in that split second when you put your feet back on the ground after a rollercoaster ride or something. But I love to feel the giddiness I get from music, I kind of like the nostalgia; an appreciation of a time for what it was without the desire to ever change it if I could have.

So, no new memories as of yet, but here's a few tunes I've thawed out from those frozen moments:



Music Playlist at MixPod.com

Promises Promises by The Cooper Temple Clause
Hook and Line by The Kills
Underdog by Kasabian
No No No by Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Pure Morning by Placebo
Childproof by Queen Adreena

Communication Breakdown

It really is a time of uncertainty at the moment; the weather has thrown daily routine into standby plans and tube strikes have added an extra bit of drama to an already disruptive couple of weeks.

I have kept my end of every bargain and have managed to follow through with plans that don't just depend on myself like work trips and doctor appointments. Last week I went to Sheffield for work and tried to shut my ears off to comments such as "you know I hear snow is coming, you might get stuck here,". Now, I don't like to hear the sentence: 'you might get stuck here' in ANY circumstance, but the fact that it was said to me in Sheffield had me seeing horror-film clips flash across my inner screen. And you know the expression 'it's nothing to write home about?', well Sheffield is nothing to blog about so let's just thank it for The Arctic Monkeys and move on.

Since being back, there have been misconstrued text messages, missed phonecalls, damaged sim cards, hang-ups and all sorts of communication pandemonium...has this 'crazy' time of snow and christmas adverts (that are aired far too early), causing everybody to misunderstand simple unwritten laws that we've always rolled with? I'm having a deja-vous while everyone is experiencing confusion: people forgetting their own names and what year we're in and even who I am and how they know me. Or is it me?! Perhaps I'm living in a different time frame and all my friends are cloned in the realm in which I thought was reality... maybe an answer to the meltdown of something we've been using for years, the telephone...my line must be connecting to a different plane.

And amongst all these interpersonal errors, I went along to my clinic and waited for my doctor who was driving through ice and craziness to perform my surgery. One thing that I was hell-bent on having done. Three years I have been sent back and forth for this, three years of discomfort and dissolved self-esteem to remove the stone in my shoe, or my foot rather; a neurovascular something or other that wasn't any prettier than it sounds. But my physical hinderances have been lasered out. I wonder if it can be done with the emotional ones too...

But at the end of all this, I'm not sitting here with bandages around my feet feeling bitter and sorry for myself because I have to commando-crawl to the kitchen if I want painkillers...oh no no no. Well yes I guess I am a little bit...but I believe it's because I'm alone and bored and have even reduced myself to the thought of what everyone is getting on with at work. Scary. You know what would break up the boredom for me a bit? Some communication, some correspondence, some kind of two-way interaction...oh wait I just remembered, it's snowing outside, christmas is nearly here and no one knows how to use a phone properly anymore.

...

"Sometimes one creates a dynamic impression by saying something, and sometimes one creates as significant an impression by remaining silent."

-Dalai Lama

Unconditional

*My boy Rocky*

Missing the Sky

(image from we heart it)

Come fly with me?

Stay Within

The laptop has kept me company all day, I'd been debating on whether or not to leave the house and it made my decision for me. "Stay in and blog, " he said. Yes my laptop is a he. And he talks too. "Get inspired, communicate, explore."

So that's what I'm doing. I'm also looking over some writing I did a few years back. Here's a poem called 'Stay Within' (just as a note, 'Jim' is a reference to Jim Morrison and his lyrics to 'The End'...epic song)

Walls around seem to breathe me in;

their energy draws in the power of my eyes.

Need to plant my roots to stay within.

Stretched then pulled into an emotional bin,

dispensed as waste in disguise.

My prism of colours calls me in.

Ride the Snake, as told by Jim.

I’ve put myself on a shelf, to one side;

waiting to get back to where I’ve been.

Keep my arms connected to my kin

until placed between four towers where I’ll reside.

For now: tears, coffee, cigarettes, gin.

Never any interest for me to win;

only certain mantras of which to abide.

Mother Earth just ground me in.

Prop up a pillow on which to rest my chin.

Everything we know of the Universe applies.

In demand by others’ sin.

Walls have infinite energy to breathe me in.

Today you Made me Smile

Vacant/Occupied

I promised myself and the two of you who read this thing (you know who you are) that I would write toilet-roll-length thoughts and creative writing as often as you have hot dinners and here I am two months later. I'm now trying to rebuild a relationship with blogspot - it's not right this off again on again business. The truth is, I haven't had much to say but have had too much to think about. Like waiting at the airport for my baggage, I've watched these moments go around and around and around...I'm still not quite sure they are mine.

Forgive me for this slack warm-up but of course Halloween, Guy Fawkes Night (does anyone else still call it that?) and Autumn has passed us by and there are plenty of gaps to fill in and not enough time for hindsight so I won't blabber on about what I have done in my life recently; or more to the point, what life has done to me. I too have plunged into hibernation along with the rest of nature; all I've needed is sleep, so why is it that I have walked the waking hours like I'm on a valium-type-of-numbness? Switched off. Not firing on all cylinders as my Little Big sis says.

Today I woke up a little. Rubbing old times from my eyes, scratching my head about tomorrow and having yet another cup of coffee to think about the rest.

Longing

Emptied out like the contents of a cardboard box...first the outer packaging that cushions everything was taken out (the shell that holds the soul in place), then one by one an item was removed from its temporary home and placed in another (the heart, the lungs, the mind), the box was thrown away...

...let me love somewhere else, let me breathe somewhere else, set my mind free to be where it longs to be.

Glastonbury: The Heart Chakra

This bank holiday weekend I did something unusual; instead of film marathons and suffering from bum-numbness, I got several breaths of fresh air trekking around Glastonbury. I'd never been before - what a stunning little town!

My friend and I arrived on Saturday afternoon and went to The White Spring where the water runs crystalline pure and tastes just as so. While contemplating in this magical little cave, my chakras danced to the beat of a drummer who took advantage of the amazing acoustics and earthy setting.

I tasted the most amazing Brazilian steak that night at a place called Hawthorn's which we had to revisit the next night because we'd given it 5 stars; we spent most of the meal talking about the food which we decided was the only sign of the most satisfying dinner out. As we left the restaurant we were pulled down the street by the sound of live blues rock; we bopped a little in the doorway of the pub that was hosting it before we decided to call in for a drink...what an incredible band! The lead singer who was also the lead guitarist had the luxury of selecting a guitar out of the five he had for each song they were about to blow us away with. Someone in the audience asked if she could sing and took the stage for 'Sweet Home Chicago', turns out, it was Suzi Quatro's daughter.

Walking up the Tor, I got a healthy clear out; you almost have to use your hands to climb just to ensure that you don't get blown off by the incredibly forceful wind up there. I began the climb with a cold and by the time I'd gotten to the top, my innards felt like they had been pumped with menthol!

Walking down the high street that afternoon I was looking around all the beautiful little shops like I'd only just seen the sky for the first time...I was surrounded by Native American treasures and Pagan decoratives and crystals and esoteric books and all of my favourite wonders on one road! Oh to wake up and have that all on my doorstep *sigh* needless to say, I spent a fair bit!
It was a sad morning on Monday, knowing that I was going home. We had a meander one last time and ended up discovering a few more delights before getting our bus back to Bristol for the train. We found a shop called Star Child which actually looks like a magical apothecary built into a tree house (the herbalist in me squealed a little) and then we entered The Goddess Temple and the vision of that can only reside in my memory and cannot be described in words and all I can say is that my heart lifted up to the cosmos and my soul felt like it was finally home. I'll go back there one day and write in that Book of Inspirations, Meditate with peace and light a candle to all that is.

Papercraft and Story Book Treasures

I have plunged feet first into the magic and art of words, words printed neatly onto soft pages and then lifted off again and shaped into quaint little pictures. Having discovered paper and book art, I have become completely obssessed and I want to learn how to transform the glorious invention of paper into eye-dazzling decoratives like these by Sue Blackwell.

I want to learn how to make paper from scratch, I want to learn how to sculpt it into 3D, craft it into colourful and texturised murials and I want to mould it into one of my favourite things on this planet - the book and then pluck it out again and craft it into still story-book life!


And so, I'm halfway there with my new paper-cutting board and knife, my scraps of handmade paper and an old book ready to make the characters and the props but I cannot start yet until I have my own creative space and until I get my own room or more to the point, my own house, my tools will have to stay nice and flat and untouched in a crafts box. For now, I can mess about with my Origami kit...

...the other thing that's rekindling my lust for words is a whole new pile of books I've treated myself to, some I should have read a long time ago! The End of Mr Y, The God of Small Things, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, The Help and my favourite so far: The Time Traveler's wife. I love new books and I love it even more when I enjoy each one, knowing that I can add the author to my list of 'ones to watch'...although these freshly printed darlings won't be test dummies for my book sculpture projects!

On the road again

What a long time it has been since I pressed my thoughts onto this page and how much has changed in my life. I scribbled away furiously for three weeks to complete all my uni assignments-never will I write a story again that I felt was rushed and was only for the purposes of pleasing a tutor who may or may not get on with my work. Study over, life to start.

I moved house again, for the seventh time in five years and yet I am still not settled. This is just another tedious stepping stone closer to a home (although I'm beginning to think that this sort of thing doesn't exist). This time I can't unpack properly and my possessions are missing some of their companions; things I've had to leave in the foster care of others; but we'll all reunite one day I hope.

So, I'm supposed to look for a job now and even though I have a new qualification, I still don't have enough experience - pah! I'd love to work for myself, always wanted to really. I want to do it right this time. I think it is my soul's purpose to explore my creativity and spirituality...I've been told I must share it with others. But of course, I cannot do this from the confinement of my current dwelling...why is it so hard to be noticed by the outside world?...well I'm not even requesting that, I only ask that the city I live in find me worthy enough to help me make a living.

Everything is so different and everything is so uncertain. Either way, I move forward and the days go by; the seasons change. I'll ask the wind if she'll deliver some answers to my questions while she casts the pollen across my way.

Recovered

I have been stolen away from my usual cyberspace ramblings and for two weeks, I've experienced life a little more!

The universe has showered me with wonderful Birthday gifts including the hope for a new home. I mentally colour and decorate non-existent rooms all the time; washing them over with character and charm...one day these rooms will exist and soon too. Finally the dream is not so far away.

Friendship and settlement have been the key themes this month: bonds have gotten stronger, laughter has become more frequent (the celebrations have brought more of my favourite faces together) and the journey resumes. But now my path branches off onto something new; I don't know what it is yet but the closer and closer I come to the end of study I know something exciting is waiting for me there...it'll finally bring me my much longed for sense of peace. I know it to be so because in my entire life, I've never felt so grounded.

In Bloom

Amongst the clearing and sorting, I am finally seeing a brighter path - or maybe just having more hope for one than before.

I truly believe that there aren't enough hours in a day to achieve what I'd like to. There isn't enough investment for all the things I wish to try in this lifetime, but I hold onto those wonders like jewels in the palm of my hand for I have the heart of an explorer.

The colours of flowers and bees making honey is surely adding to the optimism and I feel for the first time, that I finally may be close to complete personal breakthrough and so, I wait in excitement for the summer to deliver me the rewards of my release.

The worst in me:

Your absence.

The worst in you: hearing me.

A lot of thinking to do...

Just when I thought time had moved on
and growth had fastened links nicely onto the chain,
I am forced to turn around and address myself,
with issues of old, that today feel like new...
I must learn to intergrate and alter again.

More observation from others to acrue
and weave into the tired processes of my mind.
Infancy, you seem to choke me more as I age;
falling apart infront of analytical eyes.
So much of you still hiding behind
the curtains of the stage.

Busy Bee

As spring approaches like a new dawn, the planet rebirths herself into a phase of new beginnings and opportunities. I love this time of year because I've finally woken up from the dull cold slumber of winter and I bless the year with my renewed handfasting (a pagan marriage ceremony) and another birthday celebration. Perhaps because I was born a spring baby the universe is so kind to me when it comes. I am hopeful and this year is a special one because my degree comes to an end and my twin flame and I finally reunite for good, to look for a little nest for us to live and be in love in...

...and so I have a busy week ahead, and in my thoughts, a busy couple of months to come. This week I'm making an 'Earth Mother' candle for a dear friend for her mother - she asked for a springy-fresh, mumsy smell and that's what she'll get with the fragrance of Pine, Neroli and Rose with a crackling wooden wick to make it sound like a camp-fire...visit The Moonchild Garden for more of my creations :)

Aside from this, I've got a gig to go to, Alice in Wonderland to see, dinner at Frankie & Benny's to eat, the Tate Modern to peruse in and some freelance editing work to get done...bring it on spring, I'm enjoying myself already!

Echoes of your music

Down spiral corridors I soared; twisting and turning I flew to the corners of the Earth and back...then suddenly, I was propelled up and out into the universe and I glided over...my heart wanted to leap out from my chest, it all went so fast. But time paused when I came to an abyss, your gentle melodies slithered into my ears and I saw you then - your halo golden, your soul's windows a perfect blue and your fingers sweeping over steel strings with beauty and grace.

I tuned into you and now I am in your trance-like spells...remembering, waiting, wanting...only soothed by the echoes of your music...

I'm on hold again until my heart sings its own sweet harmony, the next time I see you.

Today is fit for a dreamer

Fae ID

Upon searching for potential character names for my new tale, I came across a website that generates your very own fairy name by typing in your real name!

Your fairy is called Feather Snowwand

She is a cleansing force and a peace-bringer.

She lives in high places where the clouds meet the earth.

She is only seen when the seer holds a four-leafed clover.

She wears pale blue like the sky. She has delicate pale blue wings like a cicada.

Get your free fairy name here!

Ahh...so sparkly. ♥

Child's play

Today I fell into a place where children's minds expand; they twist and turn through stories, their imaginations satisfied with adventures inked on fresh pages.

For my Writing for Children class, I have to read a children's fictional novel...something I haven't done since I was a child. And yet all these years of writing and reading, struggling to develop and perfect my technique to reach adequate adult standards, I have missed something quite wonderful indeed. Normally I'd bypass the children's section in bookshops, mainly because I'd find noisy, rambling tykes causing a ruckus while their mothers peruse the shelves for something suitable. But I strolled into Foyles this afternoon and thoroughly enjoyed my browse! To my suprise there were more adults in there than children even though it's half-term! The covers were shiny and resplendent, mythical creatures and enchanting worlds splashed across the walls of that corner...I made my choices after a long gander and I haven't been that absorbed in a long time.

Halfway through the Rebel by J.R Andersen, and I'm still entertained. This isn't supposed to happen, aren't I meant to feel like a 'big kid' that needs to look at more prestigious texts in order to better my writing? Well I say that I look at tube carriages now and nearly a third of the passengers have their noses tucked deep in epic children's stories...a market I can get on with perhaps? And yet I almost forgot that most of my enthusiasm for wanting to be a writer occured when I was a child; writing until I was told to go to bed; storing novel after novel on my computer and even further back, tucking away the typewriter carefully after heavy-duty use. I lost that enthusiasm as I got older and more cynical. Adulthood makes you question everything for the negative outcomes, children question for the excitement of the positive.

And so, from now on, you'll find me drawing out my characters instead of meticulously bullet-pointing them out, writing from the pictures in my head instead of constructing a 'logical' sketch and reading books about fairies and wizards instead of those that present us with the failures and woes of the depressing old thing we call 'life'.

I want to get off

Today took me for a major ride, one I paid for but got short-changed on. Whilst on it, my emotions got tested hard and there was a grey cloud hanging over me that threatened to rain so I tried to shake it off and reasoned out my karma to allow a tantrum to occur in my head.

I was cold. I was tired and my love for the world was questioned. Pettiness played its part and caused me more silence than I would care to acknowledge. But I tried to raise some noise by listening to Staind (not a good idea, considering that album takes me back to bleaker times) but others were feeding off my fumes on a tooth-pullingly long bus journey after having battled to get my oyster card to swipe. It didn't. I had money on it, but had to pay more to a bus driver that felt like exercising his authority on me.

I craved the silence while I rode through the grotty stone-laced town that is Mitcham...and when I got home it bullied me. Anger diffused fairly soon after once I cut the cord with the general public, allowing them to take their energy back and return me mine but that grey cloud still hovers...

I know it very well and yet it still plays tricks on me. I'm onto its ways but it still wants to prove me a point, even though I'd love to ignore it. I never can though. There's some sort of attachment to it. It'll drift away for a little while and allow the sun to greet me, but not without getting what it wants: my hands up in complete submission, for it replenishes itself with my dignity.

Inspiration are you there?

Rifling, searching, digging deep...no stories wish to unfold today.

If only I had a fairytale of my own to fall into where the trees tell me which way to go and an elf recites me a poem. No bedroom walls and stagnation there; only a joyful dance through a forest that leads me to the Well of Answers. I lean in, reach down and pick a giant flower petal from the well and on it reads something of a revelation.

The Butterfly Queen blesses me with magic. And when I return, I'm full to the brim with creativity, inspiration and excitement; typing emphatically to record the wonders I've seen.

Cue reality:

Pft. I've stared at this screen long enough and it hasn't turned into a portal yet; only an empty word document with time running way ahead of me and I have emptied myself of motivation.

But still, the web is full of pretty pictures: this one is from we ♥ it.

Knitting, Procrastination and a General Sense of Vacancy

Yesterday I learnt how to knit. I've been longing to do it for some time now; thinking about all the possible things I could make for myself and avoid shopping for things that don't exist all together. Self-sufficiency is the key. Although I've only just started, I saw myself knitting in my sleep last night...a new addiction perhaps?

I should be working on what I've already learnt instead of finding new things to begin. I should be doing my uni coursework but I've seemed to fall into some kind of consuming loop of vacancy. I've been waking up late, my peak of alertness seems to come at midnight, and my work is on my mind for 60% of the day but my body is rejecting the idea of actually producing it. I've wandered around pretty aimlessly today, knowing that the hours are ticking away. Three deadlines to meet and I'm hanging in empty space, wondering how to pull myself together.

Wouldn't it be nice to just knit all day and allow the rhythmic pattern of weaving wool to take my cares away?

Creating My Wonderland

I received this beautiful notebook by Pink Cherry Mama, in the post yesterday; one of the gems I ordered from etsy; an Alice in Wonderland journal that's ready to be inked with magical words...

As the cloud's bellies remain fat with snow, I grow heavy with ideas and inspiration. So much to think about and so much to achieve - where do I start?

I made a promise to myself when I bought this journal that I'd get some more writing done. I couldn't have it tarnished with shopping lists and phone numbers...no no no. Alice would like to be the keeper of enchanting stories and poems.

The trouble is, I'm conjuring up the courage to christen the crisp white pages. Don't you find that sometimes you can't start a journal because you don't want to ruin its freshness? I won't allow scratchings and spelling mistakes! But these ideas of mine have to go somewhere...

I had a chat with a Rowan tree and he told me to write a story about him and his kind...the wisdom of the Oak, the humour of the Birch and the magic of my good friend, the Weeping Willow. When I meet my fairies, I shall ask them if they wish to star in my book too...

...there's room for every sort of magic in my world...but can I make it come to life on paper?