Just play

Tonight, as the pungent aroma of sex lingered in the cool air (more specifically Dr Marten black shoe polish and the scent of fidgety hands from a leather steering wheel) someone reiterated the fact to me that I was not ‘girly’. Nodding, I gave my kick-arse boots a last flick with the soft flannel cloth, and smiled at the shine they had freshly acquired. They’re right, I’ve never been good at the super-femme thing. The surprise that I now have my nails ‘done’ reflects on faces (I only do it so they get stronger and I can change colours). Wearing a dress never fails to inspire comment, and heels even further. It’s not that I don’t like feminine things..I just don’t think it’s really important, and I would rather be real or interesting, than pretty.

Everyone is born with natural talents, and it just takes a while for them to discover what they are. I guess some never really do, but most would, simply because these things just come naturally to them. The below quote from one of my favourite flicks, illustrates it perfectly…
Skylar: I don’t understand how your mind works.
Will: Do you play the piano?
Skylar: I wanna talk about this.
Will: No, I’m tryin’ to explain it to you. Do you play the piano?
Skylar: Yeah, a bit.
Will: Okay, when you look at a piano you see Mozart, right?
Skylar: I see “Chopsticks.”
Will: Beethoven, okay. He looked at a piano, and it just made sense to him. He could just play.
Skylar: So what are you saying? You play the piano?
Will: No, not a lick. I mean, I look at a piano, I see a bunch of keys, three pedals, and a box of wood. But Beethoven, Mozart, they saw it, they could just play. I couldn’t paint you a picture, I probably can’t hit the ball out of Fenway, and I can’t play the piano.
Skylar: But you can do my o-chem paper in under an hour.
Will: Right. Well, I mean when it came to stuff like that… I could always just play.
PeopleDoBestNaturally_124721There are certain things that I could always…’just play’. English, writing, reading, composing words, is the first. I’m not perfect at it. Hell I’m not even great…but I love to do it, all of it. At school and university, it took absolutely no effort whatsoever to breeze top grades at it, and endear myself to its teachers. If a passion can be loosely defined as some thing you love, and love to do, then these would be in the realms of one of mine.

Art is another. I excel at this even less than words…but I love it also, for many reasons. I find it quite difficult to maintain my confidence in myself with my artwork, as it is so easy to be misled or distracted by the work of others in comparison. It has taken me a very long time to stop comparing and let others simply inspire, motivate and challenge me.
21291718_10213047451634681_1007559060_nBut art gives me something that I cannot function well without-time. In the space when I create, everything else blurs and dissolves away. My brain switches all the other tabs to ‘sleep’ and focuses on the details, the curves, the ink, the lines. Invaluable time.

The third thing I have always wanted to ‘just play’ is literal-the guitar. From the first time I picked one up, I was intrigued with what type of sound I would ever be able to extract from it. They feel comfortable and nestle against your body like they were made to love you back. To be held and wrapped around and become a part of you.
For the first 37 years of my life, nobody ever took the time to show me, teach me, allow me to learn (except briefly my 5th grade teacher Mr Gonzales). Finally I found someone I could learn from, who inspired me, who actually wanted to teach me, and had the patience to… so I grasped at the basics. At this point, I should probably add, that guitar sadly is not one of the things I can ‘just play’. But determination and desire is going to win here, and I am slowly learning little by little.
21942235_10213619016930311_1959158588_n

The last few weeks have been ridiculously busy, early mornings, late nights and little free time. So today, with a day off…I went and got my girly claws cut back to ground zero (only on one hand-haha) and booked in some proper lessons. I can’t wait. I’m sure they can’t either…I already explained that I’m neurotic, nervous and basic, so they have been forewarned. But I will do this. If I can, or I can’t…I will give it the shot it deserves, because it’s something I’ve always wanted to do. If nothing else is reason enough, that is.

What is your thing? What can you just ‘do’ with your eyes shut? What do you gravitate to naturally?…it could be your calling. It could give you the direction you need, or the peace that you crave.
Food for thought Kids.
V

Advertisements

Desert-ed

how-to-find-water-when-youre-stuck-in-the-desertThere is a time when you know you need to just change everything, when you feel boxed in and dark. So you take that step, that huge step, off the edge, and into the abyss. And you fall and fall and fall…and then gently land…and you’re alright. And slowly, the dark fades, and the light starts to creep back into your life, and your eyes. You start to not only feel, but to appreciate. All the small things seem somehow beautiful, because you are finally taking the time to notice them, instead of just focusing on what’s inside, you see around you also. You gain a whole new love of the world, and the beauty of all its tiny intricacies. You renew all the emotions you have lost.
7c23d5d83519aa9362743f7ddf4c577eSo you picture yourself in this massive wide open space, this huge expansive desert. And there you are…this tiny speck from above, in a sea of rolling dunes. There is nobody near for miles and it feels great…all that space. But for just a split second you grow weary from standing, arms stretched to the sky, loving all your space and freedom, the sun raining down on you, and think. Right there is where you should stop that dream. That’s where the dream ends and becomes something entirely different. It becomes alone.

A song plays faintly in the distance from nowhere, someone in a printed shirt, a car, an accent, a look. Fuck you universe. Leave me alone in my desert. That’s why I came here…so you couldn’t find me. Leave me to my peace and strength. But instead you wait for a crack. A 7 day stretch of tiresome days, and consistent wearing down at the emotional rock. You start missing things that are missing, a little too much. The wrong things, the right things….just the missing things. You distort the good and the bad, and just remember what felt good, when it felt good. And those are the nights and days you long for. But the people that held you up when you fell, they are gone too.

You recall with great definition and detail, the way true love and passion felt, purely because it felt real to you, real at the time. You remember the feeling of holding what you wanted in your hands, your arms, your heart. You ignore the rest. The pain and constant heartache and lies. You forget the “I’ll try”s and “soon”s. You wash away ignoring the facts in plain sight, and uncovered secrets whispered in your other ear, by those who cared…more. You remember the touch, the look, the peace. You forget the broken sleep, and more importantly, the broken promises.
bad4ca1081bc38c80aa284fa94a08065

And all the deceit and secrecy now, does it not take a heavy toll? Its burden sits squarely on your shoulders driving you to the ground, to your knees. And in a desert, there is nothing to hold you up but sand. Your dreams are gone, your fairy-tales, replaced with resolve, reality and whiskey on the rocks, and the ground falls away. Alone.
51436cfa144a55810ea2c53c9418b174I have not changed. I am simply becoming myself again. I am the master of my own desert. I am strong and passionate, empathetic, emotional, strong-willed, stubborn and more than fucking enough. I am more than people know, and than I truly believe.

Tomorrow the sun will rise again, and I will step onto the sand feeling new again. The songs will not play as loudly, and the heartache will ease in proportion…I will see friends, and laugh and joke and life will go on, as it does…but for tonight, the desert is a lonely, place, on the rocks.

Stay warm kids, the desert can get cold. Like hearts.
Cheers
V

 

69 just means F*cked either way

So, it seems that one topic keeps surfacing lately. Maybe from lack thereof, or maybe it’s just the universe reminding me it exists…Sex. *omg she said it* we hear them whisper in hushed tones of discomfort.
It seems that no matter who I am talking to, or about what, it gets a special mention for one reason or the other. So why not just bring it out into the open forum. Never really been one for shying away from blunt topics anyway.

I told someone in jest today that it feels like I might just die soon, because it’s been so long without, and they went on to trump my meagre timeframe by at least double…and this was a guy. And he didn’t even care. Huh?
I told someone I was ill this week, and they joked that perhaps my virginity was growing back. I’m sure my use of the term ‘re-hymenating’ in the conversation would amuse a certain friend to no end. I should have been angry at the suggestion considering the circumstance, but I’ve not ruled it out as an actual reality, so I couldn’t be…As much.

In any case, it may not have been quite so long as it sounds (and no, that number is none of your business), but what I’m talking about when I say ‘sex’ is the real stuff. Not the shallow, meaningless, whatever kind. The intimate, passionate, connected, comfortably amazing kind. And it’s out there, just not from the people that send a plethora of dick pics and one line, badly spelled text messages.
It’s in late nights and early mornings. It’s in short drives and hotel rooms. It’s in nights of drunkenness and laughter. It’s in sleepy Sunday mornings and midnight awakenings. It’s in short greetings after long absences. It’s in every days and beach picnics.
It’s in glass houses and steamy kitchens. It’s in hot showers and big, soft, sprawling beds. It’s in distracting thoughts and carpet burns. It’s in tilting your phone, so nobody else can see the picture. It’s in moments you can’t forget, even if you try. It’s in a simple touch or look. It’s still there.

I think the problem, or not problem if you should look at it in another way, is really that I don’t want to just settle. I don’t need to lie on a bed next to just any warm body that’s around, to feel like I have obtained worthiness or popularity. I’m not selling out my emotional to the physical, or vice versa…I want both or nothing.
I don’t want to be with someone I don’t feel that connection with, with all the passion I have. I don’t want the ‘next best’ thing. I don’t need to be with someone I wouldn’t want to give my all to, regardless of whether or not I ever would again. I don’t need the easy road. I know what I want. And regardless of what anyone else thinks, I know that it’s as simple as simple can be, no strings, no bullshit, no empty promises.So while the world concentrates on hunger, poverty and missile warfare, I’ll just be over here sulking about my own completely selfish first world problem. The struggle is real, for now.

I hope whatever you’re getting, is putting a crazy wicked smile on your face. Life is short, and long, and hard. Own it.
Sweet dreams Kids
V

 

 

The importance of being important

I see a guy on the street, and he has a dog (not actual pic below). They have a blanket and a bowl, and a bag of things. If I have time, I talk to him, and take him treats or other assorted cash or items, and every day I see him, I can’t help but think that in a way, they are lucky. Not to have nothing, but to have more than some people really do. They have each other, loyalty, and they are grateful for everything they get. He is always lovely and polite. He never asks for anything more than a belly rub for his pup. They make me feel like I have so much more than I deserve, they make me realise a lot…and they make me smile.
I see a woman who travels alone. She is old, and far from where she is from. She uses a roller walker and dresses warmly and beautifully. She sits at the front, and watches the streets pass, the signs and waits for her stop. She offers her seat to all the newcomers, though she is entitled to it in every way. She makes sure she doesn’t take up space or brush people that rudely push past her. I help her each day, get safely down the stairs to solid ground, and she thanks me with a blessing in her sweet old voice, always thanking the driver on her way past. She has and deserves respect…and she makes me smile.

I see a man who gets on the tram in his half expensive suit, with his half expensive tie tucked neatly into it. Scanning the crowd, a small grimace crosses his face, and he blinks it quickly away. He takes all of two seconds to decide that the priority seating is where he should be seated. Unfolding a newspaper, or flipping through very important papers. Perhaps unfolding a very important laptop. Obviously he is very important. Obviously he takes the tram, only because it is accepted in the more mainstream section of the business world. A public chauffeur, because obviously his own personal one is off sick. Or perhaps his very important sports car is in the shop today.
But peeking out from the bottom of his suit legs are well worn, comfortably creased leather shoes, that have lost the majority of their shine. And fraying from the edge of his scarf, is a telltale thread or two, that says he has worn it often to combat the cold. He seems uncomfortable because, well…because he wants to be much more important than to have to travel on a tram with everyone else, like everyone else. And he makes me sad.

Every day, we are creating our own version of a living hell, just by following the greed and calculated insanity of human nature. Progressiveness is leading us into an isolated concrete cubicle, to bend us all over. George Orwell, eat your heart out.
A society where creatures will pay to store in boxes, the things they have collected , but neither use nor need, yet refuse to let go of. Hoarding possessions they are too protective and greedy to relinquish, yet too rational to have filling their lives. Things they have earned. Their things. Precious Thingsssssss.

I admit, I have some of these things…but I am learning to let go. I am feeling how much lighter my life feels, without the clutter of heavy burdens, and the things I no longer need. Because most things are meaningless. They are just things that can be changed, replaced or done without. They are not what makes our lives rich, or make us any more or less important. Things don’t care about you. And they can all be taken away so easily. Property, money…stuff. None of these are any measure, to genuine love, trust, respect or reliability.
What is important is who you are and what you do, not what you have or where you work. What is important is how you treat others, that are simply trying to live inside this same world.

And quite honestly, this doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice anything for anyone else. It doesn’t mean you have to give a fuck what other people think of you. It doesn’t even mean you have to go out of your way to impress or placate..but if you can inspire admiration or respect from strangers, or friends, or lovers without trying to…then I think you are doing it right.

Cheers Kids, have you made anyone smile today?
V

 

What’s in a name…

We, as sentimental, selfish, romantic, loving, generous, narcissistic, jealous, caring, wanting humans, do this thing. We label things…and animals…and people. Not just for the ‘type’ of creature they are, but actually label. We are born with given names, acquire nicknames, short names, pet names and labels.
As my name is quite long, and has several abbreviations, I have been called many things at different stages of life. I have also been given both names and labels by people who feel for me, good and bad (and quite realistically, probably a few choice ones I’m not aware of).

I don’t take too well to alternate names, but some seem to adhere regardless. They have changed over the years from schoolfriends, parents, old ladies, work colleagues, business clients and in the online community.

There are also endeared labels. Two people in my life have always called me ‘Sweetheart’, one of my oldest friends, and my most recent. It sounds strange coming from most people, but from these two sounds quite natural. The former only uses the word on those he despises or loves, and I’m pretty sure it’s the latter…or at least I hope so.
Another person I used to know, for a while called me ‘Lover’, which sounded quite heartfelt, until I found that I wasn’t the only one, literally. Loses it’s gloss pretty quick. Now it sounds more like poison.

I debated once, about the use of labels in a relationship. At what age do you stop using the words ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ and pretend you are mature enough to have progressed past that point? We were no longer boy and girl, yet supposedly exclusive, but not married? Hhmm.
‘Partner’ sounds ancient or gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that), so/but essentially misleading. In the end, we decided that it was not in any way a normal relationship, and found odd metaphoric terms of endearment. I like to think they were both metaphoric anyway, although there *may* have been a tinge of truth to mine.

Another friend, who is actually married, never refers to her husband as that, but always just calls him ‘my Mi***el’. It is sweet and completely innocent, like her, yet as mentioned above, a very direct form of ownership.

I’m pretty sure just about every committed couple out there use some form of alternate name for their partners, ranging from gut-wrenching stuff like “Honeybunch’ & ‘Sweet-pea’, to the more widely used ‘Love’ or ‘Darling’. Today I saw ‘Snuggle-monkey’, which seemed very apt considering who applied it, and to whom.
A guy once made the mistake of trying to call me ‘Darl’…wow. He never did that again.

I guess in a nutshell, if you are with someone, that you acclimatise to whatever they call you (within reason-and excluding the heat of argument), but by far the most soul-piercing name anyone has ever called me…is my own. My real name, from their lips. In those moments it wasn’t just about me. It was acknowledgement. It was about this person being with me, and only with me. Even if only…for those moments.

What names do you share Kids? We want the vomit-inducing cuteness. Spill.
V

Hustle and heart

So, I wanted to write a blog, but the topic…well, there were too many. I couldn’t isolate, narrow down, minimise.
I still have a story to tell, but now is still not the time *put the popcorn away*. That’s for a more level-headed later.
Instead of trying to make coherent sense of all the thoughts, I’ll just write a list instead. Of…things. Things in my week, thoughts, realisations, learnings, re-visits, angers, delights & other…things.
It’s not advice-I’m not qualified or self-assured enough to give it. It’s just ramblings, because I’ve had a tiring week (mine work differently to yours) and today was hard. I was angry and venomous, and I knew it. I need to find some positivity, so I can find sleep, and wake up in a better frame of mind. There has been so much rapid change, I needed to find ground, run my toes through it’s sand, then dig them in deeper and feel the grains.1.’Things’ can be hard to let go of. It’s hard not to relate the things we own, to being a part of who we are, so in many cases, it can be hard to let go of them. If we have them for a long time, each passing minute makes us feel like they are more ingrained in our character…but they are not. The things we own, are merely a reflection of who we are-an extension. We are no less without them, and if we let them go, we make room. For new things, other things, or simply just open space. We create a gap that can be filled with change and forward motion. Sometimes we need to de-clutter our lives to make it better, or give ourselves the opportunity to redefine our image, or bolster/rediscover our sense of self. Letting go of anything important is not easy, but it can be so very worth it.

2. Sometimes the smallest gestures make the biggest impact. A smile can bring a smile, a helping hand can bring a blessing (Actually it was “Bless your heart, and every other part”-Haha), remembering a name lights up eyes, or circumstance, and knowing unexpected things brings engagement to another level. Say hello, use their name, pat their dog…just making an effort means the world to some people.

3. Know who you are. Don’t be afraid of it. Your emotions and moods and quirks. Your fetishes and fantasies, dreams and reality, passions and peeves. Take the time to get to really know what you like and dislike, and how you react to things. Be ok, with you. Really know…and understand it. NEVER apologise for it.
4. Accept who you are-own it! There is NOBODY else out there on the planet like you. Be brave enough to feel, to love, to anger, to react, to defend, and to do exactly what you want and how you want (as long as you’re not hurting others intentionally in the process). And I mean how YOU want. Not how others think you should, or how it is expected. You are enough, and there are plenty of people out there that know that, or soon will. If you ever feel like you are not enough, or too much for people…then they are not your people. 5. Don’t settle. Life is a journey, and a tough one. Adulting sucks, and loss and heartache and loneliness. But love…love doesn’t suck. It can be amazing if you do it right. And puppies are awesome, and warm pan au chocolat, and walking in fresh air, and new places, and good (or if you’re lucky-fantastic) sex, and roast dinners, and pampering, and loud music and, and, and….
Small delights are to be found in every day. We hurt and heal. We experience a huge amount of emotion, and there are adventures everywhere if we stay open to them. You never know where being honest and brave can take you. Settling is a limitation we place on ourselves when we don’t feel we can do, or get, or deserve any better. Don’t settle, please. Please.
6. Love and like are completely different things. When we love someone, or are in love with them, we just are. They can do silly, awful, disrespectful, hurtful, or indifferent things to us, and we continue to love them, just because…we do. The human heart and brain don’t always see eye to eye. But that said, we can still feel the impact of those things…we can still not like them for what they do, or who they are, or how they are. We can still get angry or upset with the things, the words, the lack of anything. But love is steadfast. We just need to understand the difference, and act accordingly. Because no matter how much you love anyone else, the first person should always be yourself.Well, stick a fork in me…I’m done, and as someone said to me in the week..it’s getting too late for philosophy or anything that doesn’t involve sex. Time to join the monsters on, and under, my bed.
Goodnight Kids, thanks for listening.
V

Orwell that ends well

largeGeorge Orwell said it over 70 years ago, and I believe he said it best…
““The people will not revolt. They will not look up from their screens long enough to notice what’s happening.”
There’s nothing like travelling through a big city, and people watching to make you realise just this. To see just how many of them are not watching you back, or even noticing you are there. On a crowded tram or train, on a lonely street, a hustling shopping mall…it makes no difference. ‘They’ don’t even look up…the masses, the zombies, the technologically focused…’they’.

Albert Einstein, one of the most brilliant brains of the 20th century, is said to have predicted something almost identical: “I fear the day technology will surpass our human interaction. The world will have a generation of idiots.”
251F794A00000578-0-image-a-1_1422408964508Well, maybe not all idiots, maybe well educated by google, but definitely suffering from an over social-media-ised anti-socialisation. Tragic.

I watched a couple sitting side by side. He casually flicked his arm around her, tried to talk, joked a little, and then gave up trying to win her attention. A second later they both were glued to their phones, and not a word more was spoken the entire trip.
I spoke to someone casually (because I have no filter) and they seemed shocked, surprised, hesitant to reply. When they did it was brief and disjointed.
I chatted with another guy for near 30 mins a few days last week, and on the third day, we realised that of the 20 travellers in our line of sight, we were the only ones not plugged into some type of socket. Actually talking. *GASP*.

This week alone, I have spoken to at least a dozen people I don’t even know (although now I chat frequently to one), made a baby giggle hysterically, patted a dog in a shopping cart, watched the same terrain affected and change in 3 different lights of day, listened to funny, stupid, dramatic, and joyful conversations. I have been aware of a very highly strung junkie, thanked 20 different drivers, helped 3 lil old ladies disembark, and given up my seat for numerous disabled or elderly passengers. I have given people directions, been surrounded by cute, hungry little sparrows, jumped off a stop early a time or two, and been unexpectedly complimented by a girl who felt the need to justify speaking to me, by explaining that she also had no filter. I told her no excuse was required.

We are in a world of people who are switching off more and more every day, just by switching on. iPhones, iPads, iPods, ithis, ithat, ieverything.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate social media. In fact, I think it’s fabulous. Some days, and in many ways…it’s the only way I can stay in touch with some of my nearest and dearest. But, everything in it’s place. Snapchatting, tweeting and face-timing, seems to be replacing good old fashioned talking, visiting, writing. People don’t send letters, they send ‘likes’ or ‘pokes’ or messages. People don’t visit, they email or post on your virtual wall.

We are all being desensitised methodically, and in the process, losing empathy, sympathy, respect, affection and love, yet hate still seems rife, and tempers shorter. People use the platforms to clearly express what they hate, are upset about, can’t stand or are even slightly disgruntled with. They argue politics and war, religion and sexuality. They complain about bad service, lack of service, no service and not being serviced. Perceived anonymity is making people bolder, and the boundaries of personal privacy are becoming slim to non-existent. Anything goes.
CDNk5TjUEAAoXeaMaybe I’m just different, maybe old fashioned or being left behind, but I find it so…sad, to see all of this ending. I’m happy enough receiving messages, but call me and it puts a smile on my face. Video-chat and that expands exponentially, because then we are actually sharing our lives together. Send me a letter, and I’ll probably read it more than once on the spot and then again next week…just because you took the time to write it.

I don’t want to be part of the Umbrella Corporation’s infected masses. I don’t want to be the inanimate body that stares at a screen while the world passes by in the background. I want to be that kick-arse chick with the big gun, making the world a better place to live in. Feel free to press ‘end’ and join me.

Goodnight Kids, I’m off to read my book (you know-the kind with real pages)
Cheers
V