little people

I have been thinking lately about the choice of having children.

Sure, deep down I would love nothing more.

It would be wonderful to bring that little person into the world;

the best combination of my partner and I.

No doubt it would be magical to watch them grow and learn about the world;

the new eyes of desire, passion and laughter.

But underneath all this, I am terrified that I would hurt them the way I have been by my parents.

To make them feel unwanted in anyway would simply break my heart.

To reduce them to tears, despite their age of being an adult, would almost be unforgivable.

To instil disappointment and questioning in their development as a person,

so they feel like they are unsuitable or a failure in some way.

Not an option.

These fears are possibly natural for each parent.

But somehow, I feel like mine are accentuated because of my history and upbringing.

If you came from a good family, one that is stable and secure... would the fears be the same?

Or would they be worse as they have had amazing role models that they want to live up to?

Maybe these fears will diminish over time, or I will find success and confidence from my parents small failures.

Or maybe I won't have the option, prevented by a physical error.

But I guess it is a choice that every women must face.

Either way, I do not want to have a child and subject them to similar fears that I have had in my life.

I would do anything to spare them from the pain and torment of wondering if they were ever really good enough.

'You lot'

Divided and merged families are always a source of entertainment and angst.

But beneath the flow charts and laughter, hurt lies seething and brewing.

'You lot always think you know everything' was the latest statement.

Hurtful.

Honest?

Said and scarring none-the-less.

After the hours of tears on the bathroom floor, my questions is - what lot would you prefer?

If 'you lot' were really so unbearable and full of attitude (and let's look at the record)

are you embarrassed and would you rather 'the other lot'?

Tomorrow you will act like you didn't say it at all - that everything is fine.

But I will, unfortunately, ponder this for days.

Said in the heat of the moment?

Anger said in words?

Or truth finally spoken... your real opinion on 'your lot'.

facebook perfect lives

We are so consumed, as a society, to appear to 'have it all'.

We are driven, fashion conscience, wealthy, healthy, happy and to top it all off...excited about sharing it with the rest of the world.

Normally, this would be a good thing, as it wouldn't be blatantly done to the extreme.

It would be a private matter shared with family and friends, on the phone, via email or at gatherings with loved ones.

Instead, with the change in social media, we see it every minute updated on facebook.

Live news feeds, status updates, 'liking' and commenting, instant messenger and other 'faceyfeatures' make it nearly impossible to go seconds without hearing about someone's 'happiness'.

But is it genuine?

Or are we busy creating facebook perfect lives so that everyone else is aware just how good you've got it?

I often wonder how much of it is truth, or if they are posting it to make themselves believe it, bored or even trying to prove to others that their life is really, so much better then everyone else's.

Do you ever see people saying how it really is? For example:

Today I'm feeling sad and don't feel like getting out of bed... no idea why. Thanks emotions.

My ovaries and uterus appear to be strangling each other, so now I look bloated and pregnant even though I'm not. Great.

Or even, my boyfriend has got PMS worse then I do, what's with that?

None of these humours, yet honest and refreshing comments are ever seen.

Why is that? Because it might, God forbid, show people that life is not always grand?

Yet I think it would create the opposite effect - it would reassure people that's it is NORMAL to not have perfection 24/7. NORMAL to feel a little lost or low. NORMAL to worry about money and where it's going to come from next month with no work. NORMAL to realise that we sometimes, don't have it all.

So stop with the bullshit and the 'creating' of great lives on facebook.

Live your lives with all that comes with it - and don't feel the need to conform to the 'update' of things that you think other people would find interesting.

vent of feelings.

Sometimes it annoys me how much I care about you.

You could say something, or nothing at all that gets on my nerves,

and yet just looking at you and you pulling me in close makes me forget about it...

and like you even more.

Time away from you and I am more then excited to see you.

I bound in, energy and passion almost tangible towards you,

and there you are - with your calm and carefree way.

Yet despite it sometimes bringing me down to earth,

I love the grounded and ease at how you make me feel.

I think about our future sometimes and find myself getting anxious.

You're so reserved about it all - just so matter of fact that we'll be sweet,

that I dare not voice my concerns.

I just have to ride it with you and worry about it when it comes to that.

This ridiculous feeling, missing you after a day and wanting to just be with you,

can sometimes be so annoying.

But exciting all the same.

You make me smile and laugh.

You make me calm and relaxed.

You make me confused and worried.

But I love every way you make me feel.

Grief

Grief.

Is it tangible?

Does it physically break your heart?

Does it make your bones weak and your head feel drained of blood?

I don't mean the emotional sense; that is evident on people's faces.

I mean - medically, can you see it?

Does it ever mend?

A certain part of life that harms so many;

should there not be something we can take to lessen the damage?

Grief.

Is it tangible?

I look at the people around me and feel I know the answer.

Yes, people's hearts are fractured and their strength is weak,

never really the same or physically as strong again.

but

I want to help you, but I don't know how.

I can see you hurting, but ignoring it to put others first.

I can see your sadness, but also your hesitation to acknowledge it.

I can see the shield that is there, but I will always try to pull it down.

I can dote on you with cuddles and kisses, but sometimes they go astray.

I try and find your eyes, but they vacantly stare at nothing.

I try to find my way in, but you've learnt to rely on yourself.

I love you and am here for, but sometimes you don't see that.

simple words on a page

I have this postcard that I picked up in a cafe in London.

Apparently, it's going to be ok.

I laughed when I saw it and vowed to send it to people I knew.

Instead, it sits here and reminds me.

Appropriately fitting right now, I tell myself this affirmation often.

The housing will sort itself out, as will work.

You will stop feeling helpless at some point in the next few weeks.

It's going to be ok.

Despite the papered reassurance, my brain isn't convinced.

Perhaps if I stare it just a little longer... it will eventually sink in.

day eighteen

crying in the shower after such confusion.

a lovely afternoon with friends to replace the argument with a sister,

an evening returning, a serious conversation and it doesn't take much for me to tick.

already feeling so foreign in this house, i now feel like some sort of failure.

teaching's not good enough and no point doing masters...

apparently it's time for a career change.

trying to find my feet in this country and this house,

now is not the time to suggest uprooting the only stability i have.

the need for them to be happy for me, that i am happy in my life.

isn't that what it is all about?

retreating to bed with a rug around me,

i hope it will protect me from further thoughts of disappointment.

these walls that make a house

These walls don't make a home because you don't allow it to be.

Your questions and deadlines,

your biased and insincere attitude make me feel like a stranger in my own room.

The silence and the shuffling.

The lies and fake smiles.

I clearly mean nothing to you.

Yet if anyone asks you would conveniently tell them that I'm great,

because it suits you to 'fit the appearance'.

I feel like I can never do or say the right thing,

that I am huge intrusion to your peaceful paired existence.

And yet, despite all this... your hostility and your hesitant nature to care about someone other then your blood, I would forgive you and move on if you just gave a shit.

If you ever asked a genuine question and waited to hear the answer.

If you ever responded to my text messages about being home for dinner.

If you ever did anything that resembled motherly affection - and consistently,

just not when it suited you.

Instead I sit quietly in my room and not get spoken to.

I get nervous about whether I am home for dinner or not.

I apologise for getting in the way, in a space that should be my own.

I feel more alone when you are here then when I am literally, on my own.

I wait patiently for you to show some sort of real honesty with me.

So I will wait... continue to wait.

For something that I know, may never really come.

Day Six

Day six and I am back at school.

The same school that I physically left two years ago,

the same school that emotionally and mentally I seem to still have left now.

Children listen and respond with kindness,

and I find myself giggling with confusion.

They are clicky with each other and invasive in the teachers lives,

yet I find that annoying rather then endearing.

I walk around, almost feeling like I have gone backwards in so many ways.

London... when did that happen?

I changed... so what.

Day six and I am confused about who I am as a teacher and what I am doing at this place.

Day 2

Day two and already I feel displaced.

It all seems so normal, so routine.

It's like I never left.

Yet this funny space in my heart feels... soft. And a little weak.

It's the part that already misses the laughter and madness; the chaos that is London.

Perfectly normal and no doubt lingering -

I long for that teleport machine to take me back for a cuddle and a wine...

then back here to the routine.

To the comfort of being at home:

just after I get the fix I need to stop the confusion.

Radio Swiss Jazz

Awaking foggy and mucus headed, the buffet breakfast was the only thing calling my name.

A cup of tea with honey and a plate of fruit - heaven.

Such bliss in such small comforts.

Feeling less then average, Granada's magical streets held little appeal, and so back to bed I went.

Awaking again, relaxed yet still sleepy, I headed down to the pool.

Banter, sunshine and giggles...bliss at home, blessed to be in another country with a dear friend.

A horrendous lunch and a confused middle zen, the room again had me at hello.

A little siesta waiting for a wench to ready herself...

finally we were ready to explore.

Tiny streets, pharmacy confusion and a glam boutique goodbye gift - little else could please us.

A quiet garden with a water feature, a sign for 'Bohemia Jazz Cafe' and a closed looking window...

thankfully not so.

Walls lined with books, old records, musical instruments and jazz posters from the 1930's;

we had found a 'secret wardrobe'.

Faces of locals filled the tables and jazz was literally everywhere.

Men playing saxophones, upside-down tea pots, oversized medicinal looking jars filled with ales and vinegars - clocks in every corner.

It was nothing short of a page out of a new york jazz picture book, yet in the middle of Spain.

Little bulls and Spanish menus the only give away.

Four pianos called my name and guitars quietly strummed.

The trumpet in front of us alerted it's presence.

Feet tapped and people swayed.

Wine was drunk.

What a turn around -

Fogginess to 'Fantastico' with Fabulous Friend!

Counting Down

I find myself walking the streets of Barcelona, and counting down the days.

Three more nights in this hostel, you will be fine.

Six more days till you have Charlie, you will be fine.

Twenty-one more days till your under his wing, you will be fine.

For someone who once thrived on this, the change is drastic and confusing.

My clenched stomach, specifically at night,

makes me want to stay indoors rather then aimlessly wander.

My intolerance of hostels and the people,

makes me spend money on comfort and solitude rather then social bedlam.

I feel privileged and thankful for being here;

but excited already for it to come to an end.

Has my passion for travelling faded away?

Have I lost the courage that I once had and should now seek solace from staying put?

Maybe it's none of the above and I am merely caught in a moment.

All I do know now,

is I find myself saying at least once I day.

I want to go home.

I am ready to go home.

I miss you.

So very much.

To the point that maybe... nothing feels right.

Your strength and comfort,

the calm you make me feel.

I feel a little weak and lost without you.

That maybe I am just not cut out for it.

Pathetic and maybe fleeting,

yet something I feel so strongly right now.

I want to be with you,

hide from the rest of it all.

Just to be with you,

back to the norm.

All because I simply miss you.

in the haze

the eyes cloud over and flick to the side

the snarl appears and the fists clench

the words that are not real or true

the impression that is left lingering.

the heat and hurt in the room tangible

the tears that fall and give away the true self

the confusion and disbelief

the silence as the scene sets in.

the calm after the anger subsides

the sadness of how bad things can hurt

the whisperings and reassurances to try and make it better

the unquestionable want to make things work.

it's booked

The ticket is booked, the date confirmed.

Yet when seeking excitement from others, their responses all fall short.

'That's ages away still Danny'

'Thats really far too soon wench!'

I laugh and take it for what it is, the lingering thought in my mind as to why I am looking to them for enthusiasm still tinkering.

The trip to work with the regular crazies on the train - almost pleasurable as I know that it's coming to an end.

The kids screaming down the stairwell and barging into each other without so much as an apology - humorous as I think in disbelief how I've made it this long.

All these things make the leave excitement bubble underneath my skin, literally creating jitters.

Yet the random band at the local pub, the two bottles of wine and endless laughter with 'the wench' places doubt.

The cheering and 'hollering' from my regular year 10 business class when I walk in the door - their 'secret searching' to find me another visa flattering and humbling as a teacher.

The meandering down Regent Street or lying in the park - the endless selection of bars and restaurants, the theatre that keeps me feeling alive... how to say goodbye to the life I have created.

The excitement of leaving: a tempestuous few months remaining - will eventually come...

along with the ache to stay.

waking up tomorrow

I want to go to sleep so I can wake up tomorrow and for this to all be over.

For the stress of work to be finished and me being on holiday... relaxing and exploring.

For the worry of finance to be reduced slightly because I have a steady income.

For the aggression of everyday people;

their negative vibes to be turned into a positive for no other reason then the sun is shining.

For you to be back so that I can feel at ease again, simply being around you giving me a sense of peace.

For the younger me to be only a plane trip away and able to go and muck about with.

So I sleep and hope it comes to me in my dreams...

just for the next little while until things begin to unravel and start to become normal again.

in the garden

Today I slept amongst the roses; Philharmonic and Halle.

White and bright orange respectively, they were my friends for the day.

I heard new born babies whimpering and words of admiration for the inner circle.

But the best sound was that of children giggling.

Playing hide and seek amongst the beds of flowers and darting in between the hedges,

they were enjoying the day almost as much as me.

People took photos and walked,

laughed and canoodled as couples...

but seemed too composed on this postcard perfect day.

Many a time I wanted to join the children,

exploring the hidden elements of Regents Park and throwing their parents caution to the wind.

After much restraint, I settled for lying amongst my new friends and taking in their scent,

catching the suns rays and enjoying the sounds of others.

network unavailable

Comfortable in my own skin and fairly content with my own company...

yet I find myself having to remember how to operate without you.

Longing for the meaningless banter... or even your comedic bodily functions,

I find myself just a little bored at times.

An exciting adventure for you away and some reflective time for me -

I'm trying not to think too much.

Words lingering in the back of my mind, your reassurance seems so far away...

my certainty about the way I feel only stronger then before.

Still weeks until I get your side - to hear how you felt without me.

Anxious I am about the verdict,

yet my hope and faith in us...

this 'unlikely' couple keeps me sane.

A message or an email with a little hint so desperately craved.

No network makes this impossible.

I spend the time trying to be occupied...

and all the while missing you just the same.

limbo of dreamtime

The evening draws to a close and they retreat to the comfort of bed.

Exhausted and spent she has no words left to say.

They lie and whisper to each other, but mainly she just looks and watches his animated face.

Entangled in arms and legs, sleep does not come to them this way.

They part begrudgingly, her only wish for there to be more breathing air between them.

The light is off and her eyes close wearily, trying to wave off the dread of tomorrow.

He pulls her in closer and kisses her hand and cheek, reminding her that he's still there.

She feels her body give in and knows she could lie here forever.

Limbo between awake and dreamtime, they find their comfortable position;

her on the side and him on his back.

Sleep and peace, a night of comfort and companionship.

A part of them always touching - fingers intertwines, toes tapping or foreheads gently resting ...

wanting to just be part of each others worlds.

an early morning train

An early morning

A peak hour train.
Weary workers

A jumper in the way.

Late for work

Calls to the boss.

Moans and complaints
A life newly lost.

A family destroyed

A lost and broken soul.

An inconvenience for Londoners
Others left to grieve and console.

Rushing in the door

A jumper on the tracks.
Annoyed and angry
A moment never gotten back.

bag lady

with her limited belongings,

she dawdles up the path.

plastic bag in hand and trolley rolling behind her,

she seems so lost in her way.

as i watch her walk,

i am curious of her story.

does she do this all day with really nowhere to go?

has she slept in a comfortable place or even changed her clothes recently?

i stand and stretch,

watching the way she operates.

she approaches one of many ponds and stares into the water,

seemingly lost in her own despair.

she reaches into the plastic bag, for what unfortunately

my mind only leaps to negative assumptions.

completely contradictory,

she grabs some bread and breaks it into pieces.

she stands there and feeds the birds and ducks...

sharing her only possession with these helpless creatures.

she is so selfless in her ways.

not only once now have i seen her,

but several times on the same running route.

with nothing materialistic to offer, she offers herself.

a friend to the animals... an unacknowledged act of hope and kindness in the world.

from a woman in rags with a plastic bag and an old shopping trolley.

silence

I feel frustrated within myself,

unsettled and restless.

Sitting still, silently and uncomfortably for five hours is really far too long in one's head.

The need for conversation and banter can be a blessing, yet a curse in disguise.

Silences emphasises my endless space of creative clutter inside my head;

unproductive and unused.

It highlights the annoyances of others around me;

screaming children and sickly romantic and organised couples.

It gives time to question insurmountable things about life;

my future and my fears.

It makes me feel completely alone;

despite the company that I'm with.

Worst of all, it makes me revel in the nervousness I have;

the return to London

sadness of an ending holiday

work worries

...

the list goes on.

All of this... nonsense, would simply fade away with some idle chitchat.

For once, I wish my crave for conversation would cease to bring me some craved inner peace.

till times

It was just an idea, a fleeting moment on the tills whilst we wished away our Sunday shift.

Hungover and hoping for something exciting to happen, we put the plan in place.

Contiki around the states, New York for New Years -

a graduation present to myself and a chance to travel and holiday for you girls.

We researched and plotted, talked and fine tuned.

Booked. Going. Four friends and one hell of a holiday.

We counted down for months, the whole pharmacy buzzing with our enthusiasm.

Goodbye's at the airport so far from sad, adventures and laughter ahead...

even a few little squabbles in a taxi down 5th ave.

One bus, four seats up the front because of some car sick loser, and a song that now,

years later, brings a sprawling smile and shoulder shimmy on my face.

Every morning,

mere hours of sleep and a knowing laugh from us all that despite it's repetitiveness and annoying nature -

The Killers have a lasting memory past this trip.

What an adventure, such fun with great friends.

Missing you always ladies...

so glad for 'all the these things that I've done' with you.

xxxxx

ignorance in education

What is it that gives you the right to think you are better than everyone else?

Is it your exclusive education that is apparently so much more detailed and thorough then mine?

Is it that you wear 'mature' clothing, that despite it's 'creative lacking' is sophisticated and says you mean business?

Maybe it's that you've been here longer, therefore have rights to the school stomping ground.

Or that you earn more money and have a lovely home, compared to my flat share and economic suffering.

Regardless, it gives you no right to look at me with disgust the way you do;

like I'm an embarrassment for simply existing.

It doesn't excuse the way you ignore me in the corridor or the stairs,

yet talk to me when it's convenient for you.

It certainly doesn't give you the right to walk around with your head held high so far above and more important then your colleagues or friends.

I don't let your attitude get to me all the time, but after a year and a half...

you'd thing you could at least pretend to know my name or of equal importance to you.

Your education may have taught you one thing;

ignorance and snobbery -

well done.

It's bound to get you far.

just minutes and hours

the question of time constantly plagues my mind, now more than ever.

the amount of time left and all the things I have to accomplish and see.

the waste of time putting myself through the aggression of school.

the time that it will take to adjust to my life back at home.

how long it will be before I see my London family again.

and of course the time left to earn the money which i need for all of the above.

yet now there is a new aspect that I am left feeling despondent about.

the time left with you, here in London and enjoying this life.

how long we may be apart because we both need to do things for ourselves.

if this time will affect us, for the better or the worse.

you say a certain month, and all will seem too near...

despite your thoughts that it really is so far away.

i try not to worry about anything related to time,

given it really is out of my control.

yet time with you and here is so precious.

will we always have awkward timing in life, or will everything destined just be.

i still feel rattled and nervous,

wishing for something concrete to be put in place.

why is there only one friday in every week...

really is not enough.

so tired and exasperated,

i really do not want to go to school tomorrow.

am i still a child.

non poetic or creative.

bla feelings of a thursday night.

uncharted territory

With your eyes glazed over,

you're a million miles away.

I look at you and wonder,

worry at where you are.

With no sure ways or signs to tell,

I have no choice but to be patient.

If you want me to know you'll tell...

I've never been one to invade private space.

I remind you gently that I'm here if you want,

and not to spend too much time in your head.

You reassure me that we're ok with a kiss and a comforting wing...

enough for me right now.

The light goes off and you slightly let the guard down;

offering just a few words.

I can't help and evidently have no idea what to say.

So I simply offer the same reassurance that you gave me.

Uncharted land.

New territory for both.

Slow and together... we'll figure it out.

a sunday afternoon

the room is dark and damp, lit only by tiny fairy lights and a bar sign saying 'blues'.

we walk in, unsure of what we have stumbled across.

seemingly quiet and unpopular, we take a drink and sit at the lonely bar.

warm up takes a while and the antiquated compare appears to know something about the old joint.

time passes slowly, and the bar beings to fill.

an extensive list of locals and new comers starts compiling and before you know it,

we can't move to get a drink.

the 'jam time' starts and feet start tapping,

hands keep the beat and mouths are filling in the gaps.

this room full of 'musos' and mates soon to be have something in common.

addicted to the feel of the instrument... of the crowds applause,

of the passion that unites cultures and people of all ages

the blues bar on a sunday jam session...

a unique feeling and nothing quite like it.

hooked

with droopy eyes and a lopsided smile, he returns to his loyal friend.

it's been hours of entertainment - yet he remains as engaged as ever.

his hands move swiftly,

eyes darting back and fourth... ignoring his name called by anyone.

breaking only for emergencies, he is hooked in the cyber world he has created.

despite the requests of school work and lessons,

friends and a social life...

he has no interest in a regular routine.

day in day out,

he feels compelled to participate in the game of cyber life...

always trying to outdo his previous score.

the droopy eyes start to close and the smile now sinister...

obsessed with world inside his own.