Stay Beautiful

Falling in love with her was different and it’s something I can’t expect to ever get back. I’m contemplating a new love, another young female country star, one that’s slowly set to become the future starlet of country music. But she is different, she is older and she, well, she isn’t her. I fell for my first love – the one – when I was young, ripe, on the brink of becoming a wilting, unsteady thirteen year old. To find love that young and to know that it’s a love that has strengthened over years still, that it continues to fills me with happy tears whenever I think of her (apart from when those tears fester into something that burns) is startling and I don’t think I will ever find it again.

I have to face that she is no longer mine, and she no longer belongs to country music – despite whatever invitations and awards she may get credited for by the CMAs. This is sad, I know, but true.

To contemplate another love, a brighter, shinier, newer love seems almost wrong. I can’t seem to break away from the first. I know it’s what needs to be done and it’s what has to be so. Isn’t that what all first loves are like? To keep going back to it is devilishly unhealthy but I’m rooted so deeply and firm that it’s hard to unravel myself, and spin out into the opening arms of somebody else, somebody that will actually have me.

I’ll always remember her, the way she was, and not the way everybody likes her to be now, with her bright red lipstick and permanently straightened hair; her drawling, repetitive songs that bear no country twang whatsoever, and her persistence on looking sexy now just for appearances, instead of wearing Texas made dresses and lush, amazing cowboy boots. Like she used to.

Perhaps it is time to let go. I know everybody tells me so. Some even roll their eyes over the way I will still disintegrate into splinters whenever she makes an appearance on television – British Television instead of American. This may seem unhealthy but for a long time she was the best thing that had ever been mine. Now, she simply belongs to everyone else.

I know, I’m so full of angst.

I won’t ever let go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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W O R D S

Do I startle you?
I can engulf you,
I can make your tongue swell,
Swivel dance do twists unthinkable slither upside down,
Into the grooves at the roof of your mouth,
You’ll take me to your grave,
Til Death do us part, my sweetheart,
I will be etched into your cold slab of stone,
Immortalised there,
Forever

Writerly Reflections

Why did I want to be come a writer? It’s a fairly simple question to ask but rather a difficult one to answer.

I suppose first of all I wanted to write because I loved reading. My story isn’t one of reading J.K Rowling and desperately wanting to be the way she is as a writer, which is odd because I love the world of Harry Potter a lot more than anything else. The world of Harry Potter comes up fairly frequently in my blogposts. My story came from being twelve years old and desperately wanting to be the girlfriend of famous boyband members. In particular, members of McFly. I could gush on about them for hours in my little notepad I kept hidden in my wardrobe.

What they looked like when I thought I could be their girlfriend. That’s right. All of them.

In order for that to come true, I started writing fanfiction in little diaries I bought from Clintons. I wrote so many stories, and they were all filled with bad writing, bad romance, and probably some really bad dialogue. I still have them, but they’re far too embarrassing to read. But without them I wouldn’t have gotten this far! I would stay in my room for hours every single day of the summer, endlessly spilling my pen into the pages that I kept private. Because nobody was allowed to read it.

Bad writing = good writing!
(Eventually!)

 

Gradually, I moved onto writing from paper to Microsoft Word but still in secret. I would wait until my whole family had gone to bed before I could start tapping erratically on the keys of our shared computer keyboard. I don’t know why it all had to be kept in such secrecy. It just felt so private. I’d never done it before.

When I started to grow older, I realised that – yes – I wanted to become a writer, an author, unconditionally. And all I did in my spare time was fantasise about how incredibly amazing that would be. I have drawings in my old collected notepads of book covers with my name on them, that one day I could actually be a published author. I still have that dream today and am not going to stop writing, ever. Now, I am pursuing a writing course at university. People say it’s a waste of time, choosing Creative Writing as a degree, but I would never have come across the writing opportunities I’ve been given without enrolling onto this course.

Since September, I’ve started a new novel in my own time, written short stories almost every single week during term to submit, become a weekly feature writer for a worldwide online magazine, submitted to a number of different writing competitions, gotten the chance to meet famous writers and poets, and next week I get to be in a workshop with an award winning author!

Really, I don’t think I decided at any point – yes I want to be a writer. I kind of fell into it, and as I got better at it, I then just grew into it.

Writing is awesome.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/24/writing-challenge-reflections/

Flight MH730

In regards to the missing Malaysian plane, I was shocked and disgusted to discover that the relatives of those who perished into the Indian Ocean are reported to have been delivered the devastating news by a regular SMS text message. I mean … what?

That’s just disgusting.

That the news of having your loved ones to be – first of all – missing and then to have regrettably died through a simple text message is cruel, apathetic and cold. This is what I have heard from the news. People were screaming. It’s so distressing, and so sad.

Sometimes, I really hate the world we’ve grown into, that we have to resort to technology for absolutely everything. Even delivering news to the bereaved.

Maybe I’m missing something, but I just don’t get that.

BABYSITTING

I realised I haven’t done a blog post about cats in absolutely ages. It’s not that I’ve become bored of them – AS IF! I have just been without internet for a while so without further ado … LET’S TALK ABOUT CATS.

My friend from work has told me she is going away for the week and was struggling to think of anybody to look after and stay with her kitten whilst she was away. Needless to say, I told her, why are you looking any further than at me? She agreed, and I’m now babysitting for the week a three month old kitten – who despite his age is like a GIANT compared to my own cat. She is seven months but is still a little titchy thing! I vow to be the best temporary mother that this kitten has ever seen. I’ve even stocked up and got his favourite treats in the cupboard for when I go and see him.

I’m terrible for feeling guilty when I leave animals alone, especially at night. Even at the zoo, I feel bad leaving them there, I just feel like they need some company. Although animals in zoos probably love it when the public all go home. Back at my non student-y home, we keep the rabbits indoors so they don’t have to spend all their days outside and alone in complete darkness at night times. What can I say, I’m a softie for the softies!

I am so excited to be this little chap’s new temporary mummy. His name’s Oreo, which is adorable, although I’ll try not to sneak him any of the actual biscuits. I know Mal – my kitten – has already had the pleasure of eating mine and only leaving crumbs while my back was turned. My friend said I can spend however long I like at hers, looking after him, keeping him company etc. I’m pretty sure she only asked me to feed him everyday but I can’t bear the thought of him all alone so I’ll set up camp there for the week and come home at night times to tend to my own cat. I’m even going to bring her along with me to meet him at some point during the week.

I will openly admit, I am hoping they might fall a little bit in love.
It’ll be like having little playdates. I just hope they don’t hate each other. They’re both black and white, so they’d have gorgeous babies! Even though I’ve made sure that’s quite impossible to happen by taking her to the vets some time last month.

Imagine, baby kittens as a result of a week long kitty romance!

I love spoiling my cat. She sleeps right next to me, and on my shoulder at night times and always comes running if I call her name. If I go shopping, I always look if there are any cute things I can get for her. She is my baby. Through and through. Cats are way better than human babies. Yesterday I went to Pets At Home and bought her a few treasures. I bought her some Dreamies – she goes completely beserk for them and has already tried to run off with the packet in her mouth every time she gets into the cupboard. I also got her a new nametag for her collar. It’s silver with three tiny, pink gems dotted along the bottom, in a heart shape, of course, and with her name in capitals letters stenciled in to it. She looks just gorgeous.

I also got her a bow.

Isn’t it cute?

Here’s one of her face, just so you can all see how grown up she’s looking now! If you scroll through my older blog posts you will be able to see photos of her as a teeny tiny baby, with matts of fur and fluff flying fuzzy all over her body. Now, she’s such a big girl, although still very tiny.

Once I am babysitting Oreo during the week I will be sure to take lots of photos of him. So keep holding your breaths for photos of that once I do my next post! He just has the cutest face, I have to commit it to the rest of the blogging community. Maybe I’ll even take photos of him with a packet of Oreos by his side.

TTFN.x

I have so missed blogging about cats ….

4,000 Words

Following my blog post about the author workshop I’m thrilled to be participating in, I received an email yesterday outlining the work we’re going to be doing to work with Lionel Shriver. Basically, the most pressing thing to do is come up with a piece of writing that is 4000 words long and submit it to her so it can be evaluated and critiqued.

I know, it sounds simple enough really, doesn’t it? It sounds like this is the most work we actively have to do within these workshops, aside from critiquing others’ work and really buckling down with all the fiction writing activities. It’s exciting and I already have loads of pieces that amount to either just below 4000 words or over. All I’d have to do is tweak it up a little and then submit, let her read it, and go!

But that’s just a little way too terrifying.

Writing 4000 words within two weeks is pretty simple and easy. That’s plenty of time. I have no issue with that. But coming up with 4000 words to submit to a real live – award winning author – FROM AMERICA is scary, to say the least. It’s incredibly daunting and I don’t even know where to start.

Giving her the first 4000 words of my novel is slightly embarrassing, as the protagonist is a womanizing jerk and in the second chapter there is a drunken bathroom scene in which two teenagers get a little too excited with each other (to put it that way). But it’s the most recent writing I’ve done and I have to admit I’m a little  bit in love with it. I am proud of it. But to give her something else feels odd, as I don’t feel my other writing is as good as the novel I’m writing right now. The piece we submit can be anything, on any theme, and can be complete, or a work in progress or something entirely different. Just as long as it’s fiction.

I think I am struggling. Being intimidated by author power-status is a little bit unnerving! Especially when you get to meet them!