Scribblings

Afterwork

Alright, so here’s the thing: I’ve tried to stay anonymous. I’ve tried to hide behind the words that I write. I’ve tried to hide among common people. I’ve come to realise it’s not easy. It takes a lot of effort and hard work…

They call me ‘hell’. They call me ‘Stacey’. They call me ‘her’. They call me ‘Jane’. That’s not my name. That’s not my name. That’s not my name. That’s not my name. They call me ‘quiet’. But I’m a riot. Mary-Jo-Lisa. Always the same. That’s not my name. That’s not my name. That’s not my name. That’s not my name. 

Hell, actually that is my name. I applaud you. I salute you, even! After all these years you can still call me by my name! How on earth did you manage that? [sarcasm]

The past few months I’ve hated who I’ve become. But now? Oh, now life is pretty awesome – dare I say great? And it keeps coming down to being yourself.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve renamed this blog from Scribblings of a Dreamer to Gone with the Wind on Wuthering Heights. In a way that sentence is an exact description of how I’ve been feeling for the past months. Yes, I’m perfectly aware that I haven’t changed the web address but don’t you worry about that because that my dear will never happen.

Tonight, I realised something. No, wait – this past week I’ve gradually come to realise something. Something that I deep down always have known but never lived by. Now, I can honestly say I’m living by it as well:

I’m being myself… and it is a self I’ve come to love! Self-esteem is a great thing…

This might end the post on a rude not, however, I don’t care. Be offended if you must. Here goes nothing. Hope grows inside me when I see people bigger than me out and about with people who [appears to] love them… it gives me hope that someday I’ll meet the cliche! Someday I too will experience this crazy little thing they call love!

I bet you’re picturing someone fat – someone gigantic/enormous in fact. But let me stop your fantasies right here and now… I’m not fat… I have what they nowadays call curves.

I know a lot of things and I’ve learnt a lot during my lifetime. But can someone please teach me how to flirt? But I have to warn you. I’m a lost cause…

Because who in this world could ever love a monster like me…?

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Scribblings

/ɪnˌfatʃʊˈeɪʃ(ə)n

Infatuation is an intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone [or something]. 

I could get lost in those eyes. When looking in my direction I’m secretly hoping they’re looking at me. And don’t forget that voice… Yup, she’s back! I’ve been down this road before… She’s found someone to rest her eyes upon during the lectures. She found him! Yet, then again… Why would he be single? He’s too handsome!

In the end, it doesn’t matter because I’ll only end up building a wall around myself. I’ll put my mask back on. Hide my vulnerability. Disguise that feeling I get in my body at all costs. Why do I still let love frighten me? Is it because I’ve been told too many times that I’m too ugly to be loved – too fat?

I wish I could describe your eyes. I wish I could tell you how the sound of your voice gives me butterflies and how your smile makes my heart skip a beat. I used to be invisible to the rest of the world. Then as if I was hit by lighting I decided it was time to take off my invisibility cloak. It was time to stop hiding.

From now on, I’m going to stop hating myself for what I’m not and start loving myself for who I am! I only wish I knew what he sees – if it is me he’s looking at…!?

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I’m back? (take two)

Hello there. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’ve neglected you, haven’t I? I’ve been distant and preoccupied with other things. I didn’t make you a priority and I’m sorry. Can you forgive me? Can we fix this and get back to the way things were? Is it possible? Did I mention I was sorry? Did I apologise?

Well, how long has it been? Three months?! Are you sure it’s been that long? That’s longer than I imagined. If only I had known. If only you had told me. Will you give a chance to explain? Did I have my chance; did I blew it?

The short version is that I lost my inspiration. It just disappeared. I had nothing to say; no words to write. But if you’ll give me a chance to make things right, I can’t promise I’ll check in and post something every day but what I can promise is that I’ll be better. Because it’s been a lonely life without you. And you know how I get when I let my toughts run wild and free in my head.

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11.02.2015

There are too many thoughts in my head. Running frantically round and round. Sometimes running a marathon. I try, but I can’t. I can’t  seem to write them down on a white piece of paper. They’re running too fast. Running away from me. I can’t catch a hold of them. There’s a whirlwind – a tornado if you like. Chaos.

There have been no walks in the fresh air. There have been no walks by the Thames, sipping my [black] coffee while music blasts in my ears. Volbeat. In Flames. Five Finger Death Punch. Or it might be the songs I’ve added to my March 2015 playlist. It all depends on my mood. There have been no walks by the Thames because I’ve been  sick. A runny nose, sore throat, and a little bit feverish. I’ve been exhausted. My body said stop and I nearly hit the wall. But I’m better now. 

I have a playlist consisting of 303 songs; one day, four hours, 46 minutes and 13 seconds. It’s an obsession. There’s a song to fit my every mood. It was created back in 2011 while I wrote my undergrad dissertation. I pressed play today when I finally could go for a walk along the Thames again. I hit shuffle and it was the best walk I’ve had for ages.

***

I tried to act normal and it was the worst five minutes of my life. I guess I’m just better at being weird. No, hang on, I’m better at being ME. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not normal. Normal doesn’t exist in my vocabulary. I tried it once but I don’t ever want to do it again.

***

I’ve made very important plans for Saturday. It will be the best Saturday in ages. It’s going to be epic. I’m having a single’s party and you’re NOT invited. I’m buying loads of ice cream, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. Oh, I’m not just going to buy it, I’m also going to eat it. Or, perhaps, I’ll buy a bottle of wine and drink it out of my new glass, a [stolen] souvenir from last Friday’s night out. All while watching House of Cards (season 2) or perhaps recap the last few episodes of Game of Thrones (season 4).

Guess it’s just another Saturday… Wait, hang on a minute, you’re saying it’s Valentine’s Da on Saturday? Well, it doesn’t matter because, as I’ve already told you, I have very important plans…

Do you  think I’m stupid? Don’t you think I know what day it is? How could anyone NOT know that Valentine’s Day is approaching? Even Starbucks had decorated their windows with hearts. And at WHSmith, it looked like Cupid had vomited all over the store!

Valentine’s Day is probably more fun if you’re in a relationship…

***

Putting on a fake smile is easier than explaining why you’re sad.

It’s less exhausting to live when you stop pretending to be someone you’re not.

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Philophobia

is fear of emotional attachment; fear of being in, or falling in love.

I’m only afraid of not being loved in return and I fear that I’ll only end up getting hurt (agliophobia). But then again, as Bertrand Russell writes in Marriage and Morals (1929: ch. 19):

To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.

 

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Hello, it’s me…

…I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet to go over everything. They say that time’s supposed to heal ya, but I ain’t done much healing. Hello, can you hear me? [Hello by Adele]

My deepest apologies but I’ve been living off-the-grid for some time. After I completed my MA dissertation I needed time to heal. I never came back after nine days. When I finally escaped the zone, I found myself prisoned in a new one. Finishing my dissertation completely drained by battery; thwarted my inspiration and I didn’t feel like spending any more time in front of a computer. For while I went back to reading and stopped writing. Fifteen thousand words killed my inspiration. I lost my voice; my inspiration. I forgot how to write. Creating sentences with words was no longer an art I could master.

I’ve been absent for a very long time. I made a promise I couldn’t keep. I fell down a rabbit hole and ended up far away from Wonderland. There was no Queen of Hearts screaming “Off with their heads!”. Neither a rabbit with a pocket watch nor a mad hatter challenging me with his riddles.

Do you know me? Do you know my name? You might think you do but you don’t. If you were to guess: Where do you think I’m from? 

I took the anonymity of the World Wide Web for granted. Thought I could hide. For a moment I thought everyone I knew was reading the words I wrote and published. Paranoia got a hold of me. But I have remained anonymous. My cover has not been blown. You don’t know my name or my story.

There’s no excitement any more. No recognition of the hard work I do. No grades. No evaluation. Just people who think they’re better than me. I want out. I’m counting down the days. Till the end of April, they told me. I’ll hold you to it. Come May, I’ll be gone. I applied for a new job. I got a job interview this week. Hopefully, the outcome will be entirely positive. Edit: I got the job!

Once again I find myself at a crossroad and I don’t know which road to take. Do I go left, right or perhaps I should go straight ahead?

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Bring me to life

I used to be angry at the world. Music dictated my mood and apathy consumed me. You never saw a smile on my face. If you did, I’ll bet you a 100 quid it was fake. I was a master of disguise. I hid behind masks. I consumed my weight in food and ate the pain away. I died a slow and painful death. Every day a little piece of me died. Because I wasn’t happy. Because I wasn’t alive. I didn’t live my life. I let the past define me and words haunt me. I cried. I screamed. But no one listened. There was no sound. No words. Only silence. Silent screams. 

I wasn’t like the others. Didn’t look like the others. Had different clothes. I used to be fat and insecure. I cried myself to sleep. I was excluded. Wasn’t pretty enough. Wasn’t skinny enough. I stopped trusting. Music and books became my friends. My escape. I consumed the words. Listened till my ears bled. Everywhere I went books and music came with me. Always. Never alone. 

It wasn’t until I moved away from home and started university I felt free. Free from the past. Like the Phoenix I rose from the ashes. I started running. Faster and faster. I tried running from my demons. I tried running away from the storm. Instead, I hit a wall and I fell hard. Down into the dark abyss. Surrounded by darkness I was lost. I was blind and couldn’t see. I pushed too hard. I ran too fast. I lost myself searching for someone else. Something else. I tried to be someone else. But I could only be me. 

I used to be angry at the world. Then I found myself [cliché, I know]. I found a better version of me. I found the golden mean. The desirable middle between two extremes. I continued to run. But stopped running away from the storm and stopped waiting for the storm to pass. Instead, I learned to dance in the rain. I found my place. Started to dream. Worked hard. Lived life. I found my way out. Out of the abyss. Out of darkness. Like the Phoenix I rose from the ashes. 

The past is the past. Life starts now; life is now. If you want to be happy, be… 

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Black filter coffee, please

Now that I’m about to accomplish one dream, I’ve started dreaming about the future again. Come August it’s time to grow up. Get a job and earn some money. Start saving up and sometime, way down the line, buy my own place. Decorate it after searching the web for inspiration; decorate it the way I want.

That’s why I need to get these assignments done.
My future is the only thing that keeps me going
and the only driving force I have left.

Some days there is neither inspiration nor motivation to go on. I’ve had enough. Six years is a long time. Two bachelor’s degrees and come August I hopefully have a master’s degree. Six years of studying. A ton of words read and written. Numerous cups of coffee. All those late nights. Not that many all-nighters. None I think. However, in 154 days – 5 months – it’s the end of an era and the dawn of a new.

How long is it going to take before someone reacts to that car alarm? It’s been sounding off for about 15 minutes now and I’m starting to believe it’s all in my head. But it isn’t. I swear. It happens a lot around here. Car alarms go off all the time.