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.
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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

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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

 

 

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

Spray-paint, name tags & great coffee.

I promised you my story…but it will have to wait for another day. Today is a little cloudy, and while things sort themselves into fashionable order, I will take the opportunity to just share a few ‘in the meantime’ thoughts.

I’m having a night. One of those ones I haven’t seen in a while. It’s not exactly ‘bad’…just flat and grey and I know in the corner of my mind, like a catching a fleeting glimpse of something…something is not quite right.
It’s been a long week. Oh…hang on…It’s been a long few months!!

While I haven’t been super forthcoming with details (with nearly anyone-don’t worry, you’re not being singled out) my whole life has changed. Why?…because I made it so. Because it had to, to save my sanity and self respect. Because there just comes a time when it should. And I knew it was exactly that time. Time for change.
Someone said to me this week, that it seemed I had a new ‘persona’. It was interesting, because all it really meant, was that that person had never seen/noticed this side of me before. I haven’t changed, I’m just more of me than I was before. I still can’t decide what I want from a menu in less than (at least) 5 minutes. I still have trouble crawling from underneath warm covers in the morning. I still have an unquenchable thirst to create and be inspired. I still run through the house singing, and crash tackle my dogs when they’re not expecting it. I still love rainy nights in and clear nights out. Strong coffee always features in my day and I smoke cigarettes.
Those things are parts of who I am, but they are not all of who I am.
Maybe the thing that’s changed, or just become more obvious, is that now I have found this place that I love. A place I actually want to be, explore, and let inspire me. And I know what I do want, don’t want, and what I deserve. My boundaries and desires have become quite clear. And from somewhere, I have tapped back into my reserve of independence & self-confidence to establish in my mind, that I am completely capable of achieving.

You see, through my life I have been respectively told that I am nothing, nothing without someone else, that I am plain, and that I …cannot. And I have repeatedly taught myself that I can.
Maybe I am not pretty or feminine or delicate. Maybe I don’t inspire second glances or stand out in a crowd…but I am beautiful and colourful for who, and as, I am.
Maybe I don’t make the most money. Maybe I am not a world celebrated artist or business owner. Maybe I have not grappled my way to the top…but I am proud of my achievements and strength.
And maybe I cannot do everything I try…but at least I try.

And now I am here, in this brand new chapter, feeling pretty brand new. I am experiencing new things, and trying to feel every moment of the present for just what it is. 3 weeks ago, someone I had literally just met, looked at me and asked me point blank “Do you always run away from things?” And I replied…”No, I’m not running away…I’m moving forward”. It was either forward or down, and I decided I’m not ready to go down just yet.
One day I might tell you where I am, and what has changed, but right now that’s just geography. The important stuff, is where I’m at. And it’s a better place.

It’s pre-school bedtime hours for me tonight kids. Have to be up early with the morning people, but I’ll be around the way again soon.
Hope you are all well, and looking for your better place…if you haven’t already found it. Maybe you have and you just don’t know it?
Cheers
V

 

Here

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I sat for a minute, lay down, not knowing what else to do.
There are, there are things to do, but what they are escape me right now.
The music puts its foot on my chest and holds me down and I don’t even try to wonder how. It says all the things I won’t understand.
I am existing. In this room. In this place, between nowhere and nowhere else.
It’s grey and rainy, and the weight is everywhere I can see.
Warm fur nestles to my side, begging that I love, feel, and the memories just flow, leak, roll.
The face I can see, and don’t see, and the hand I can’t touch, slides into my own. The heart I can’t reach, beats behind my eyes, pushing each tear to the point of overflowing.
That heart is gone, wherever mine is, they have run away together, but I am still here.
There are things to do. Important things, unimportant things. But what and which, is what and which?
The voice changes, the music, the song. It always changes.
And the chair sits in the corner and rocks, laments days when it was an important thing.
The scents leak from the cupboard. Things hidden away, nestle together in the comfort they can no longer give.
And the call beckons softly, to find another place, other things. To pack the music up and take it away with me.
The warm body next to me huddles closer. A tear licked away. A soft snuffle. Please?
I am here for the love you cannot give. The things that are gone. I am here.
I am here.
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Void

Want to know what it feels like, to have a man, that has claimed to love you for over 13 years, sell you dreams, and keep you living in hope, tear your heart out in one swipe? Me too…because right now, I’m not feeling anything. Oh…I know I will. I know that in a few hours, when the shock subsides (not the shock of it happening-just the feeling) I will feel it. I’m imagining it similar to all the other times, but more of Mack truck like effect. Because this is it. The last time.
I know…drama drama drama right? But he ended it, again, and this time it’s done. Not because he says it is…but because I don’t have the energy to keep fighting. Not because I don’t love him, but because I just can’t do it any more. I can’t.
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Right now I’m just a huge messed up ball of anger, and hurt and confusion. Right now I want to hurt somebody, and if nobody gets in my way, I’m guessing it will be me. Right now, I don’t care about anything or anyone, much less myself.
 But in the morning, when I can see clearly enough, process the thoughts that are spinning in an out of control fashion around my head currently, in a weakly diluted (okay barely diluted at all) bath of wine and whiskey…I’m going to feel every single little part of the hurt, and betrayal and loss.17362774_1027317360737433_2339336717897629705_n
Someone said to me tonight “It was a betrayal of love, and a betrayal of you. You fight for love, and he plays with it”. Well, I don’t like this game, and I can’t play it any more. I have fought for too long, to get to the castle, to be told that the game is over before it begins. And the thing with games, is that they come with consequences. If you land on the corner square, you go to jail. If you land on a ladder, you slide down it. If you hurt somebody, that is strong enough to have dealt with your bullshit for 5 fucking years (not including the stint 8 years before that again), you need to expect, that before they are gone, they will show you what it’s like to feel.
17012372_10211245417504954_1407257881_n.pngConsequences. Something he has never had to deal with. Because he trusts that he is loved, and while love has never been enough for him to return, to commit to, he thinks it is enough to protect him.
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He says he wants to be alone, period. So, he can be. And I will make sure of it. Vindictive-sure. Vengeful-maybe. Justice-fuck yes. I’m guessing at this point, there may be a person or two out there, wondering just how much they have under-estimated me, or my affinity for evil? For truth? Perhaps even under-estimated my lack of resourcefulness and memory? And I can say this, because I’m a bottle of wine and half a dozen good (fuck your Scotch) Irish whiskies to the wind. I can say it because lack of inhibition, apparently lets me say whatever I want, to whoever I want (those people know who they are tonight, and I regret nothing!)

But for now, I will sob, and despair, and be fucked up. Let all who wish to judge, kiss my lily-white arse. I deserve to feel exactly how this feels to me. I deserve to hurt and bleed and pine, and ache and long. I deserve to feel what this man has done to me for so long, that I may be able to one day, finally, let go of all of the light and goodness, that I see in him, still. I deserve to grieve and be hurt, and be bitter, and angry and resentful. I deserve to question and doubt, and know that he has done the wrong thing to me, when all I ever wanted for him was good. I deserve to know that I didn’t do this. that I was not to blame. That I have nothing to be ashamed of. That LOVE is nothing to be ashamed of.
5f1e127976647cf347fb3500479d4a93You see, all along, people have said that losing love is like grieving a loss. And I have known both, so not to diminish anything, but…there’s this. This. This is a decision. He decided that love was not enough. that I was not enough. He decided not to choose me. He weighed up the options, of which there are countless, thought about it…and decided that he didn’t love me enough. Loss is not a choice. this. This is a choice. I was not enough.

It is not my fault, I know. But it is my pain to bear. That this person I love so very much, my soulmate, the person I would give everything for, that told me until this week began that he loved me, wanted me…thinks I am not enough for him. He would be alone, over making a life with me. He would choose nothing, over me. Let that sink in, because it’s taking a while for me.
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So now, I’m going to go and try and sleep this off. This initial fucked up knee-jerk reaction to pain. I will wake up feeling sick and worse off for it, and steel myself to go to work and put on a brave face, when all I want to do is be alone and feel the entirety of this…void. And maybe he’ll show enough respect to just explain anything, and maybe he won’t. I don’t know why he’d start now, to be honest. It doesn’t seem that it’s been a high priority to this point. But the consequences…they will come. After all, who am I to stand in the way of a mans true desires?

Goodnight Kids. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. Or Karma.
V

 

Shades of Grey

The last few weeks have been grey. I’d say black, but black is black…devoid of all light and hope, and they weren’t that, but for a few moments. Those moments felt like forevers at the time, but they were only moments never the less, and they passed. Grey is just bleak, with the light trying to shine through, but failing in part.
Nothing went epically wrong, it’s just that nothing went particularly right either. Lots of small things amounted to an almost overwhelming sense of disappointment and failure. It’s a feeling that I know is exaggerated and untrue, but emotions are the hardest thing for most of us to control, and you can either shrug it off as the professionals do, or submit to it.
The vivid, bad dreams, the small problems and setbacks, the lack of prospects, people that matter giving a distinct lack of fucks…all added up to grey. The emotions were running at an all time high, and I guess I just gave in for a while. You can only stay positive for so long, until a pressure crack forms and starts to let this stuff in.

I guess what all that grey added up to, was a massive amount of thinking, over-thinking and searching. I felt disappointed…in myself more than anything else. That I am trying so hard to not only stay above everything, but move forward and do better things, and it’s not happening yet. That it’s all so slow and time-consuming with no fast result. I have made all of these decisions and choices to change things, and they are just staring back at me, with this quizzical expression on their inanimate faces. And then I start to wonder, if any of it will make one fucking iota of difference in the scheme of things anyway? (Did I mention the over-thinking?).

This grey washes everything out, and brings with it, a lack of motivation, which in turn makes everything worse. I can see this unfold before my eyes, and just feel horribly apathetic about the whole shebang. ‘Housework can wait, this is too much effort, that goes in the too hard basket, nobody gives a fuck anyway, who’ll ever know, what’s the point??’
But the truth of it, is that it doesn’t matter who else knows, or gives a fuck…because I should. Because I want to. Because I do.

I spoke with a friend last night, and we arrived at pretty much this conclusion too. That, if the ultimate meaning of life has escaped everyone else thus far, then it probably doesn’t realistically exist, or if it does, we are to find our own. That we are all just here to live out our days, and then move on. So living is what we should do. To make the most of what we have, are, do.

That all sounds easy enough right? Until another person comes into your equation and makes it all the more complicated. It changes your perspective of life, and the meaning of it. It changes your ideas, of what you want from time, without you even consciously realising it. And then, there you are one day, sitting there wondering how the fuck everything blindsided you in plain sight. How did it all change so much? How did you let this happen? Did you agree to it? Did you ask for it? Do you want it? Wtttfffff?? So many shades of Grey. (I did mention the over-thinking right?)
And of course, most days you can keep on keeping on, being hopeful, being resilient, being positive, being deflective, being cheerful, being fake, being strong, being productive, being closed, being ignorant, being…busy.
Those things are not always as bad as they sound either. Being busy and productive, will eventually lead to better things, if I just keep at them. Looking for better work, will mean more inspiring things, to consume my time and bring higher purpose and confidence. A new horse in the stable will lead to less stress and better access to opportunity. More time spent on purposeful things, will mean less time to spend over-thinking (I believe I did mention that pastime previously) the void. But emotionally, it still leaves gaps that can’t be filled with work, or money.

I guess this is where the hope comes into it. The notion that allows me to get one foot in front of the other every day, despite the muscle resistance to do so. The belief that intentions can translate to reality, and words into actions. The hope that, when the universe has repeatedly sustained its idea, that some things are destined somehow…that perhaps there is substance to that. That, some things cannot be denied, despite the struggle.
So, after that somewhat disjointed rant, which seemed perfectly fluid as I wrote it, I’m going to keep doing some of the productive, busy stuff. To keep trying to changes those shades to a more defined colour, and keeping hope that one day, the palette will reflect brighter colours.

Stay busy, or stay happy Kids.
V