Monday, 20 December 2010
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
My Quest to be a Punk-Rock Chick.
Some stereotypes are true, its a sad fact but it's true. For instance; 'Irish people drink Guinness.' Now I'm sure there are people in Ireland who don't, but it is true that most Irish people do like Guinness... I've never met one who didn't.
Another true stereotype is, pretty much any, about gender. Most straight men like cars and violent video games, football and beer. And by the same token, most girls like cute things like babies, and kittens, and pink fluffy things and getting their nails done. I do, I hate it sometimes but its true.
I think all women have inside them the little girl they used to be, mine (like most) was obsessed with girly things like barbie dolls and Moomins, fluffy pen tops and cute little bunnies! But she also loved to climb trees make mud pies and sit for hours playing with ants, worms and woodlice.
So now as an adult I have a war between myself and I that rages on endlessly.
One side of myself loves filling pretty notebooks with poems written with pens that have fluffy animals on top of them. She loves listening to cheesy pop like Cher and Elton John, and reading Chick-Lit like Marian Keyes. She loves wearing floaty tops with floral patterns and gorgeous sparkly shoes.
She dreams of filling her home with antique furniture, beautiful jewelry boxes and perfume bottles, white ornamental bird cages filled with freesias and pansies. She loves hosting dinner parties and serving home made desserts. And she dreams of living in a country house, having lots of kids and being a stay at home mummy in a floury apron and baking cookies for when little Charlie and Lavinia come home from school!
Then there's the other side of myself, the side that forked out lots of cash on all the tattoos she has lovingly adorned herself with. She loves punk rock and alternative music like Rancid, The Goo Goo Dolls and Foo Fighters. She lives for live concerts and keeps the tickets from all the live bands she sees in a scrap-book with a scull on the front. She wears rock tees, punk boots and a trilby hat, and is building up the courage to get all her hair but her side fringe cut down to an inch or two long and dyed bright pink! She reads Shakespeare and Poe, and loves watching classic horror movies like 'The Shining', 'Psycho' and 'The Omen'.
These two very different people somehow co-exist in my (rather imperfect) body, and for years I have battled the soft and fluffy side of my self (I call her Tallulah btw), trying so hard to get rid of her altogether, but she's always managed to hang on in there! And although I do tend to lean more towards my rocky persona, I don't think I'll ever be able to kill Tallulah off completely, and if I'm honest I don't really want to. For years Tallulah was everything I hated about myself, my tendency to be over-emotional, my irrational fears, and my ditsy nature, it all infuriated me, when all I wanted to be was strong, self assured and down to earth.
But gradually I have come to realise that all these things, which seem at odds, are actually just all little parts of one whole person, and without them, I wouldn't be who I am. So I can like manicures, pretty handbags and soppy movies, and still be a tough punk-rocking chick. And I can have tattoos and a formidable rock and roll collection, and still be a feminine woman.
And if you think I'm weird for having tattoos and swearing, or if you think I'm a sell out for listening to Cher and doing my nails, then that's your opinion, and your entitled to it. But as long as I'm happy with who I am, I don't care what anyone else thinks about it!
Another true stereotype is, pretty much any, about gender. Most straight men like cars and violent video games, football and beer. And by the same token, most girls like cute things like babies, and kittens, and pink fluffy things and getting their nails done. I do, I hate it sometimes but its true.
I think all women have inside them the little girl they used to be, mine (like most) was obsessed with girly things like barbie dolls and Moomins, fluffy pen tops and cute little bunnies! But she also loved to climb trees make mud pies and sit for hours playing with ants, worms and woodlice.
So now as an adult I have a war between myself and I that rages on endlessly.
One side of myself loves filling pretty notebooks with poems written with pens that have fluffy animals on top of them. She loves listening to cheesy pop like Cher and Elton John, and reading Chick-Lit like Marian Keyes. She loves wearing floaty tops with floral patterns and gorgeous sparkly shoes.
She dreams of filling her home with antique furniture, beautiful jewelry boxes and perfume bottles, white ornamental bird cages filled with freesias and pansies. She loves hosting dinner parties and serving home made desserts. And she dreams of living in a country house, having lots of kids and being a stay at home mummy in a floury apron and baking cookies for when little Charlie and Lavinia come home from school!
Then there's the other side of myself, the side that forked out lots of cash on all the tattoos she has lovingly adorned herself with. She loves punk rock and alternative music like Rancid, The Goo Goo Dolls and Foo Fighters. She lives for live concerts and keeps the tickets from all the live bands she sees in a scrap-book with a scull on the front. She wears rock tees, punk boots and a trilby hat, and is building up the courage to get all her hair but her side fringe cut down to an inch or two long and dyed bright pink! She reads Shakespeare and Poe, and loves watching classic horror movies like 'The Shining', 'Psycho' and 'The Omen'.
These two very different people somehow co-exist in my (rather imperfect) body, and for years I have battled the soft and fluffy side of my self (I call her Tallulah btw), trying so hard to get rid of her altogether, but she's always managed to hang on in there! And although I do tend to lean more towards my rocky persona, I don't think I'll ever be able to kill Tallulah off completely, and if I'm honest I don't really want to. For years Tallulah was everything I hated about myself, my tendency to be over-emotional, my irrational fears, and my ditsy nature, it all infuriated me, when all I wanted to be was strong, self assured and down to earth.
But gradually I have come to realise that all these things, which seem at odds, are actually just all little parts of one whole person, and without them, I wouldn't be who I am. So I can like manicures, pretty handbags and soppy movies, and still be a tough punk-rocking chick. And I can have tattoos and a formidable rock and roll collection, and still be a feminine woman.
And if you think I'm weird for having tattoos and swearing, or if you think I'm a sell out for listening to Cher and doing my nails, then that's your opinion, and your entitled to it. But as long as I'm happy with who I am, I don't care what anyone else thinks about it!
Thursday, 21 May 2009
Annabel-Lee By Edgar Allan Poe.
| It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel-Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me- Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we- Of many far wiser than we- And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea. I am a big fan of Edgar Allan Poe, and 'Annabel-Lee' is my favorite of his poems. It is such a beautiful, yet poignant poem, I defy anyone not to be moved by it. 'Annabel Lee' was the last poem that Poe composed, and was first published in November, 1849, a month after his death. |
Monday, 18 May 2009
Life and other works of fiction. Part VI
People say many things about death, people say it is the only thing in the world that is assured, and they say that it is just another part of life, but no matter what anyone says, it never makes it hurt any less.
He had given her forty-six years, three children and a life full of happiness and love. And as she stood to give his eulogy, and began to speak of what he meant to her, his life and what kind of man he had been. All she could hold in her mind was his death, and the hole he had left in her heart.
She remembered sitting by his bedside that afternoon, just a few days before. He had held her hand and told her it wouldn't be long, they had talked lightly, about the weather and the garden, all the time ignoring the elephant in the room. But he had known, somehow in himself, he had felt death drawing closer. And without fear or sadness, he looked at his wife, he saw her how he always had, and with dignity and a warm loving smile he squeezed her hand and said "You can give me the umbrella back next time you see me." The same words he had said to her after the first time they met.
And then, he was gone.
So as she stood, in front of their friends, their children and all their family, she wondered how best to sum up her feelings. Was it better to have loved and lost? Did she know everything happened for a reason? No. Instead she said these words:
"Our life together was not all of the big memorable moments, it was the little ones we shared every day. Shopping together, doing chores or just sitting watching television. Its the moment's you don't take pictures of, those are the ones that are missed the most."
By Me ~Please Don't Copy~
He had given her forty-six years, three children and a life full of happiness and love. And as she stood to give his eulogy, and began to speak of what he meant to her, his life and what kind of man he had been. All she could hold in her mind was his death, and the hole he had left in her heart.
She remembered sitting by his bedside that afternoon, just a few days before. He had held her hand and told her it wouldn't be long, they had talked lightly, about the weather and the garden, all the time ignoring the elephant in the room. But he had known, somehow in himself, he had felt death drawing closer. And without fear or sadness, he looked at his wife, he saw her how he always had, and with dignity and a warm loving smile he squeezed her hand and said "You can give me the umbrella back next time you see me." The same words he had said to her after the first time they met.
And then, he was gone.
So as she stood, in front of their friends, their children and all their family, she wondered how best to sum up her feelings. Was it better to have loved and lost? Did she know everything happened for a reason? No. Instead she said these words:
"Our life together was not all of the big memorable moments, it was the little ones we shared every day. Shopping together, doing chores or just sitting watching television. Its the moment's you don't take pictures of, those are the ones that are missed the most."
By Me ~Please Don't Copy~
Life and other works of fiction. Part V
Looking back on it, he didn't remember the fear, the screaming, or the panic. Just what came next.
Just nine months before, when they had watched hand in hand as that little blue line appeared, and cried with joy. It seemed like mere moments had passed, and now it was time. It began on a Wednesday, at 02:17 in the morning, as he watched her scream and curse him for inflicting this pain on her, he held on tight to her hand and didn't let go, even when he thought his own was broken.
As she screamed and howled, he was filled with terror, a million thoughts raced through his mind. 'Surely it wasn't meant to hurt this much?' 'Something must be wrong!'
But then the screaming stopped, and he stared, dazed, as the doctor gently placed this tiny person, into the cradled arms of the woman he loved. And he stared at his wife, the girl he lent his umbrella to all those years ago. He stared at her, sweaty and smiling with her hair wet and stuck to her face, holding this human being that they had created together. He was filled with more love and pride than ever before, and as he watched her, with tears running down his cheeks, he realized she had never looked as beautiful as she did at that moment.
As a mother.
Just nine months before, when they had watched hand in hand as that little blue line appeared, and cried with joy. It seemed like mere moments had passed, and now it was time. It began on a Wednesday, at 02:17 in the morning, as he watched her scream and curse him for inflicting this pain on her, he held on tight to her hand and didn't let go, even when he thought his own was broken.
As she screamed and howled, he was filled with terror, a million thoughts raced through his mind. 'Surely it wasn't meant to hurt this much?' 'Something must be wrong!'
But then the screaming stopped, and he stared, dazed, as the doctor gently placed this tiny person, into the cradled arms of the woman he loved. And he stared at his wife, the girl he lent his umbrella to all those years ago. He stared at her, sweaty and smiling with her hair wet and stuck to her face, holding this human being that they had created together. He was filled with more love and pride than ever before, and as he watched her, with tears running down his cheeks, he realized she had never looked as beautiful as she did at that moment.
As a mother.
By Me ~Please Don't Copy~
Monday, 27 April 2009
Life and other works of fiction. Part IV
Finally the day arrived. It is never as romantic as it is meant to be, more stressful. But their is usually a window, one small moment in the day, when thoughts of ripped dresses, family feuds and dropping the cake all melt away. And in the future, that window is what is remembered, all the rest is more like a dream. For those two it was the entrance, and each before in their allotted places. Waiting.
She stood behind the huge white closed doors. Nerves engulfed her, as she stood, in her beautiful white dress. Arm in arm with the first man she had ever loved, about to be given to the last.
And for his part, just as nervous, as he stood. Waiting, with the eyes of all he knew focused on him he stood fiddling with his buttonhole.
At that moment, before the doors opened, they both wished the same thing. They both wished that they could be alone, with the only person who made them feel safe, and comfortable. The only person they couldn't see. Eachother.
Then the doors opened, and she began her march. They both looked simultaneously, their eyes met, and they smiled, their nerves evaporated. As she reached her beloved, and placed her hands in his, they knew, without words, that this was it. And as they spoke their promises to eachother, and meant every word, they both knew that after today, after this moment, neither of them would ever need anything more ever again, because all they needed, they had. In eachother.
And that was the moment they both would remember, forever.
She stood behind the huge white closed doors. Nerves engulfed her, as she stood, in her beautiful white dress. Arm in arm with the first man she had ever loved, about to be given to the last.
And for his part, just as nervous, as he stood. Waiting, with the eyes of all he knew focused on him he stood fiddling with his buttonhole.
At that moment, before the doors opened, they both wished the same thing. They both wished that they could be alone, with the only person who made them feel safe, and comfortable. The only person they couldn't see. Eachother.
Then the doors opened, and she began her march. They both looked simultaneously, their eyes met, and they smiled, their nerves evaporated. As she reached her beloved, and placed her hands in his, they knew, without words, that this was it. And as they spoke their promises to eachother, and meant every word, they both knew that after today, after this moment, neither of them would ever need anything more ever again, because all they needed, they had. In eachother.
And that was the moment they both would remember, forever.
By Me ~Please Dont Copy~
Friday, 3 April 2009
Life and other works of fiction. Part III
Christmas had always been her favorite holiday, but this, the first ever spent with just those two, excited her more than usual. She had bought him an umbrella stand, amongst other things, a little joke betwixed two lovers, a celebration of their meeting. She awoke on Christmas morning at 6.45am, turned to rouse him, but found him gone. Her first instinct that he had gone to sneak a look at Santa's generosity, but then she saw it, a note stuck to his pillow, 'Come Downstairs' its instruction.
She smiled and rose from the bed, eager to discover what lay in wait for her downstairs... a puppy?... a romantic Christmas morning breakfast with the man she loved?
She opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the corridor, to a strange feeling underfoot. Looking down, she realized it was petals, a carpet of petals littered the corridor and stairs. She followed her trail to the end, quietly and slowly, her breath caught in her throat. She followed her trail to the living room door, slightly ajar, she could see something, a glow emanating from inside.
She pushed the door open and saw the room, lit by the Christmas tree. And Candles. A thousand candles covering every surface. And in the middle of the room, a box, a huge gift, beautifully wrapped with a tag that read another instruction 'Open Me.' She looked around, he was nowhere to be seen, she tiptoed towards the box, barely breathing, for fear of waking in bed to find him snoring next to her. But as she reached out to touch the box, it did not disappear, she felt the ribbon between her fingers and pulled. The box fell open and revealed inside - another box, smaller but still beautifully wrapped. Again inside that one, a box smaller still, and again and again until the floor was covered with tissue and ribbon and boxes of descending size.
Finally she held in her hand the smallest box, the last box, she looked around again, but still no one was there. Her heart stopping, her breath caught in her throat she opened the last box, and inside she found, a folded piece of paper. Confused, she began to read. Its one last instruction......'Turn Around.'
She stopped, her heart leaped to her mouth as she turned slowly, and there merely inches behind her he was. Kneeling, holding in his hand, a piece of jewelry more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. Overwhelmed as he began to recite the words she had dreamt of hearing her whole life, she began to cry, and as he slipped the ring on to her finger, they embraced. They sank to the floor, and there, amidst candles, and petals, and boxes, and ribbons, and a Christmas Tree. They made love
She smiled and rose from the bed, eager to discover what lay in wait for her downstairs... a puppy?... a romantic Christmas morning breakfast with the man she loved?
She opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the corridor, to a strange feeling underfoot. Looking down, she realized it was petals, a carpet of petals littered the corridor and stairs. She followed her trail to the end, quietly and slowly, her breath caught in her throat. She followed her trail to the living room door, slightly ajar, she could see something, a glow emanating from inside.
She pushed the door open and saw the room, lit by the Christmas tree. And Candles. A thousand candles covering every surface. And in the middle of the room, a box, a huge gift, beautifully wrapped with a tag that read another instruction 'Open Me.' She looked around, he was nowhere to be seen, she tiptoed towards the box, barely breathing, for fear of waking in bed to find him snoring next to her. But as she reached out to touch the box, it did not disappear, she felt the ribbon between her fingers and pulled. The box fell open and revealed inside - another box, smaller but still beautifully wrapped. Again inside that one, a box smaller still, and again and again until the floor was covered with tissue and ribbon and boxes of descending size.
Finally she held in her hand the smallest box, the last box, she looked around again, but still no one was there. Her heart stopping, her breath caught in her throat she opened the last box, and inside she found, a folded piece of paper. Confused, she began to read. Its one last instruction......'Turn Around.'
She stopped, her heart leaped to her mouth as she turned slowly, and there merely inches behind her he was. Kneeling, holding in his hand, a piece of jewelry more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. Overwhelmed as he began to recite the words she had dreamt of hearing her whole life, she began to cry, and as he slipped the ring on to her finger, they embraced. They sank to the floor, and there, amidst candles, and petals, and boxes, and ribbons, and a Christmas Tree. They made love
By Me ~Please Dont Copy~
Friday, 27 March 2009
Life and other works of fiction. Part II
Love comes quick and quiet, not fireworks, or sonnets or long tangled words. It creeps in and takes you by surprise. Thats how it was for him, it had been some time since the safe return of his umbrella, (which he would now cherish forever as the instrument of his destiny). That day was like many others, a meal together and walking in the park. He watched her as they walked along, her laughter and giddy joy at the beauty around them drew his heart towards hers. He watched her transfixed, as she piled up mountains of fallen autumn leaves mere feet from the swing. And as he pushed her, gathering momentum, her long wavy hair, the colour of the of the leaves themselves, flowing behind her as she glided through the air, laughing and smiling as the carefully piled leaves flew in all directions.
So beautiful was her smile and her life, it came to him like a flood. As she swung back towards him, leaves in her hair, he caught her and twirled her around to face him. He gazed at her face, her warm smile and deep brown eyes. He knew in that moment that nothing in his life would ever be quite the same again. And he gave up his secret, his three word sonnet. And as he said it, she smiled, the most beautiful yet, and they shared a kiss. One he would feel forever after on his lips, every time he closed his eyes.
By Me -Please Dont Copy- xx
Sunday, 22 March 2009
Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
This is one of my favorite of Shakespeare's Sonnets. Even though its a bit obvious, I love it anyway! :)
Friday, 20 March 2009
Life and other works of fiction. Part I
A rainy day at the end of summer, it was the first day of the rest of their lives, and many other forgotten clichés. But simply it was this, their meeting, their first 'Hello'.
That rainy day by the beach, when she lost her umbrella, she found a shelter much more lasting.
He walked along the promenade, immidiatley she caught his eye, that bedraggled beautiful princess, chasing along the beach after her umbrella. Instinctively he offered his own, a gentleman to the core.
And that was how it began, as a gust of wind on a rainy day, taking her umbrella and in return offering: A meeting. A stranger. A chance.
Not love at first sight, as many might say, but an exchange of numbers to retrieve borrowed Items, this is the story that started it all.
A runaway umbrella, brought them together.
That was the tail the grandchildren would know.
That rainy day by the beach, when she lost her umbrella, she found a shelter much more lasting.
He walked along the promenade, immidiatley she caught his eye, that bedraggled beautiful princess, chasing along the beach after her umbrella. Instinctively he offered his own, a gentleman to the core.
And that was how it began, as a gust of wind on a rainy day, taking her umbrella and in return offering: A meeting. A stranger. A chance.
Not love at first sight, as many might say, but an exchange of numbers to retrieve borrowed Items, this is the story that started it all.
A runaway umbrella, brought them together.
That was the tail the grandchildren would know.
By Me -please don't copy- xx
Tuesday, 17 March 2009
Theft and Magic shoes.
This post is primarily about the weirdness of men, well some men are normal I'm sure, but so far i don't think I've met one. I got a phone call from one of my dearest friends tonight, for the purposes of this blog we'll call her Marie, let me tell you a little about her. She is a Goddess, we have been best friends since we were fifteen at school together, and I'm fairly sure i know her better than most, and she certainly knows me better than nearly anyone. She is the strongest, kindest, most honest, self assured person i have ever met. She is like a sister to me, more so than my actual sister infact. But unfortunately like many women i know, she inexplicably loses herself a little when she is in a relationship. She stops seeing her friends as much, and she becomes totally dependant on the man she is seeing, even to the point that she is somehow blind to all his faults.
A couple of years ago Marie started seeing a guy, lets call him Douche. We are from a small-ish town in England and it was no secret that Douche was a loser, with a great many substance abuse problems, tendencies toward violence, and a life time ban from most of the pubs in our home town. But Marie was convinced that Douche had calmed down since meeting her, that she was good for him and he no longer did hard drugs: "Just a bit of Pot!" Was what she told me.
I think she thought she could save him, and as dubious as I and all our mutual friends were, she seemed to be right, for a long time their relationship seemed to be going very well. Of course we couldn't have a girly night out for months because she took him everywhere with her and if she ever did go out without him, she would inevitably go home early. But we got to know him too and we started to warm to him. I infact changed my mind completely and apologised to Marie for pre judging him.
That was until about six months ago, when after Marie and Douche's relationship had been having a few small problems, he cheated on her, and broke up with her in the middle of the street by going to meet her with his new girlfriend, and making out with her right there infront of Marie. He did a great many other things too, but if i listed them all this blog would go on forever! She was distraught! I had known Marie for years, and I had never seen her cry (She doesn't like emotional displays) and she called me in floods of tears. After a while when her grief had subsided a bit she started spending time with him again, she told me and our friends that they were just friends, and even though we knew it was bullshit, we couldn't understand why she would want to be friends with him anyway!
But it was none of our business, so we told her what we thought and then let it be. And of course, it happened again, this time on Marie's birthday! The bastard split up with her on her birthday! When her family were on holiday, so she was totally alone. Anyway, getting to the point of this post FINALLY!!!.....
Marie rang me tonight, and told me that Douche turned up at her house just, stinking of booze with a nine o'clock shadow. Apparently someone had broken into his house (without breaking the lock) stolen his expired passport and a £5 gift voucher, and to top it all, they had also continuously rang his new girlfriend, saying nothing but 'Hello'. And Douche new it was Marie, despite the handicap of not having a key to his house, his girlfriends number (Or any use for his expired passport or a £5 gift voucher for Burton's menswear) because whilst she was supposedly on the phone to his new girlfriend........ He recognised the sound of her shoes!
It made me laugh.
Monday, 16 March 2009
Hello Again!
It has been soooooooooooooo long since I have posted on here! :( sorry bout that! (Not that anyone cares or even reads it, but just incase!) To be honest I forgot that I had this blog! :( but now I have remembered I will try to attend to it more often! Lots has happened since I last posted.... I was fired, just before Christmas and I still haven't found another so the whole 'Insomnia' thing hasn't stopped. Infact its 2.28am right now, I am feeling tired though. Think i will bed down soon! So I will go... and leave you with a thought that occurred to me a few nights ago when I was arranging some flowers on my coffee table, and this is all me I didn't hear this anywhere...
'Roses are like Women, they come in all different colours, shapes and sizes, but every single one is beautiful, and you have to handle them carefully, cause' they have thorns!'
x
Wednesday, 30 July 2008
I dont have time to sleep!!!
Its 4.35am in the morning, it is JUST starting to get light out, and i have yet o got to bed. I do this alot! My fella tells me i have insomnia, i dont think so... I Think... I just like to be up, doing things. Sleep is boring!
AND ANYWAY!! How can i sleep, when i have just had an idea for a new book. ( fyi: I am a bit of a writer) Im not going to say anything, but im quite excited. Except, i have the pefect title.. Which is wierd coz it usually takes me ages to come up with the title, usually ive finished the whole book before i come up with a name for it!... And i typed the title i have, into google. just incase. And its already taken. By a film AND a book ! (that id never heard of) The genres and plots are totally different...but still. So does anyone know if you can use the same title as a book thats already been published, not that any of my stuff is ever going to get published but you know... consistency!
Anyhoo let me know guys! Mutchas Gracias!
XXX
Hx
AND ANYWAY!! How can i sleep, when i have just had an idea for a new book. ( fyi: I am a bit of a writer) Im not going to say anything, but im quite excited. Except, i have the pefect title.. Which is wierd coz it usually takes me ages to come up with the title, usually ive finished the whole book before i come up with a name for it!... And i typed the title i have, into google. just incase. And its already taken. By a film AND a book ! (that id never heard of) The genres and plots are totally different...but still. So does anyone know if you can use the same title as a book thats already been published, not that any of my stuff is ever going to get published but you know... consistency!
Anyhoo let me know guys! Mutchas Gracias!
XXX
Hx
Tuesday, 29 July 2008
The Dream
The dream is long, forever long.
The dream is theirs, of love so strong.
She dreams his hair, his eyes, his mouth.
She dreams his kiss, embrace, pulling south.
She meets him there, and together they fall.
Into a world so bright, no sound at all.
Every night they spend as one.
Until the dawn when sun must come.
In her dream there's only two.
A world awaits in every slumber new.
She knows him well, for years theyve spent.
In dreams where everlasting joy ferments.
She knows his touch, his breath, his whole.
He knows her life, secrets and all.
They are each other, they are as one.
They have a life of romance and fun.
But in the dream he is bound to wait.
For waking day is for his mate.
In the harsh, light of the day.
She knows she's alone, he goes away.
She pushes through the day's neccesities.
Works and eats with thank you's and please.
Watching her clock, she waits the end of light.
To sleep, to dream, of her moonlight knight.
In her dream they are together.
In the dream they have eachother.
She wishes the dream would last forever.
So asleep she falls, to waken never.
The dream is theirs, of love so strong.
She dreams his hair, his eyes, his mouth.
She dreams his kiss, embrace, pulling south.
She meets him there, and together they fall.
Into a world so bright, no sound at all.
Every night they spend as one.
Until the dawn when sun must come.
In her dream there's only two.
A world awaits in every slumber new.
She knows him well, for years theyve spent.
In dreams where everlasting joy ferments.
She knows his touch, his breath, his whole.
He knows her life, secrets and all.
They are each other, they are as one.
They have a life of romance and fun.
But in the dream he is bound to wait.
For waking day is for his mate.
In the harsh, light of the day.
She knows she's alone, he goes away.
She pushes through the day's neccesities.
Works and eats with thank you's and please.
Watching her clock, she waits the end of light.
To sleep, to dream, of her moonlight knight.
In her dream they are together.
In the dream they have eachother.
She wishes the dream would last forever.
So asleep she falls, to waken never.
I carry your heart with me- by E. E Cummings.
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart.
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
E. E cummings
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart.
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
E. E cummings
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