Hooked on time. Obsessed. Truly I am.
Circling notions. Of beginnings. Of ends. Of long extended middles.
Attempting to understand the world. Before the world. Beyond the perimeter of our world.
The tips of the leaves lead me right back to the roots.
Past. Present. Future.
Relative. Time. Science.
How to make the best of a mistake?
How so much turmoil exists in the world when living is amazing. Physically, and scientifically amazing.
And yet some are so self absorbed in bubbles - [Round, iron leaded bubbles] - that they cease to comprehend the outcome of their actions. Infliction of pain. Ignorance.
A blind eye.
Gold plated segments are weighing the world down. Gravity must feel the strain. Surely.
Friday, 26 March 2010
Friday, 8 January 2010
[14] 2010
Numbers. Countdown to 12am. It's all numbers. 2010 is yet another number. Another day.
So here we stand. Or sit in my instance, contemplating what the year ahead will bring.
I envisage points, points of which are already set in stone yet in between the inconsistently spaced pointers is absolute emptiness. A pure blank canvas. Much like a flat, unbroken carpet of snow just waiting for that first imprint.
I can feel the momentum building.
So here we stand. Or sit in my instance, contemplating what the year ahead will bring.
I envisage points, points of which are already set in stone yet in between the inconsistently spaced pointers is absolute emptiness. A pure blank canvas. Much like a flat, unbroken carpet of snow just waiting for that first imprint.
I can feel the momentum building.
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
[13] ...
Cold knuckles clenched release dust over dew,
extinguishing the crotchet of watery rotation.
Relive the rise and fall of shifting identity no more.
Now one less drop descends.
one less leaf feeds,
and one less murky puddle forms.
Open palms walk freely, clear of broken stone.
extinguishing the crotchet of watery rotation.
Relive the rise and fall of shifting identity no more.
Now one less drop descends.
one less leaf feeds,
and one less murky puddle forms.
Open palms walk freely, clear of broken stone.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
[12] Seeds
Hello darkness my old friend. I've come to talk to you again...
Just because something is dark, does not necessarily denote a sense of pessimistic turmoil. Echoing silence can be bliss. Contemplation. Room to breathe.
Summer, oh lovely summer. It's been fantastic and it's still rolling. Shortly to depart for a spot of grape picking in the South of France.
Nearing the end of undergraduate education, thoughts are somewhat encompassing the next move. Planning has become somewhat alien to me so nothing is concrete, however emigrating is a high possibility - Where...? who knows. Love the simplicity of France, the culture of Prague, would certainly like to experience living in Cuba. I guess it's irrelevant where I land. The crux of it all is claiming my own pad. I'm craving the independence of arriving in a completely new city, finding my own place, new friends. Adequate distance from family.
Of course there's the income situation. Freelance? Start my own company? Teach? It's all very exciting. My ideal circumstance would be this:
- Move South - birds do it so why not me?!
- Teach in a primary school
- Illustrate children's books part-time
-... with the view to publishing my own illustrated book...
- Find a cosy little flat
- During the summer holiday's travel
I think I'll take this away with me and muse on it a little further...within the sound of silence...
Just because something is dark, does not necessarily denote a sense of pessimistic turmoil. Echoing silence can be bliss. Contemplation. Room to breathe.
Summer, oh lovely summer. It's been fantastic and it's still rolling. Shortly to depart for a spot of grape picking in the South of France.
Nearing the end of undergraduate education, thoughts are somewhat encompassing the next move. Planning has become somewhat alien to me so nothing is concrete, however emigrating is a high possibility - Where...? who knows. Love the simplicity of France, the culture of Prague, would certainly like to experience living in Cuba. I guess it's irrelevant where I land. The crux of it all is claiming my own pad. I'm craving the independence of arriving in a completely new city, finding my own place, new friends. Adequate distance from family.
Of course there's the income situation. Freelance? Start my own company? Teach? It's all very exciting. My ideal circumstance would be this:
- Move South - birds do it so why not me?!
- Teach in a primary school
- Illustrate children's books part-time
-... with the view to publishing my own illustrated book...
- Find a cosy little flat
- During the summer holiday's travel
I think I'll take this away with me and muse on it a little further...within the sound of silence...
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
[11] Puzzled
Perhaps of recent days my focus has been solely for the needs of those around me and I've forgotten, in a sense, to listen to my own voice and adjust accordingly.
Confusion. Confused in the fact that my ideals have shifted significantly. Confused that I don't feel anyone understands or can provide answers, hence the need to jot down thoughts haphazardly like this. Feedback is minimal, however in a way, writing projects it all straight back at myself and challenges the ways in which I deal with it. Surprising more often than not.
So confused. [End]
Confusion. Confused in the fact that my ideals have shifted significantly. Confused that I don't feel anyone understands or can provide answers, hence the need to jot down thoughts haphazardly like this. Feedback is minimal, however in a way, writing projects it all straight back at myself and challenges the ways in which I deal with it. Surprising more often than not.
So confused. [End]
Sunday, 19 July 2009
[10] Fate
I suppose everything happens for a reason. I don't believe in fate, however I do believe that there is a purposeful action behind every movement. To wake us up. Inspire greatness. Find strength in places unknown.
Yes. Consequences are there to provide new insight. Challenge current ways of life, of living.
Rambles. Lots of vented rambles.
My thought box isn't too grande at expressing the non-cryptic; It seeks the mysterious, perplexing channels.
Yes. Consequences are there to provide new insight. Challenge current ways of life, of living.
Rambles. Lots of vented rambles.
My thought box isn't too grande at expressing the non-cryptic; It seeks the mysterious, perplexing channels.
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
[9] Preservation
Preserve.
Is that not what sentimentality endorses – preservation?
The many black and white framed stills of movie clips I hang in precariously selected white space of wall, all for sentimental reasoning; to be reminded of what was.
To celebrate the unique quality of that specific point in time.
Everything. Anything. All that exists in the past exists in memory and what a precious facility to have that is.
Backlogged family events, past love - so distant, comfortably numb.
"There is no pain you are receding, A distant ships smoke on the horizon"
Yes I did just reference Pink Flloyd.
It seemed fitting.
Obviously I am no Heroin addict, however with a pun in place liberation is what I am...
...I am the Heroine of my very own story.
Is that not what sentimentality endorses – preservation?
The many black and white framed stills of movie clips I hang in precariously selected white space of wall, all for sentimental reasoning; to be reminded of what was.
To celebrate the unique quality of that specific point in time.
Everything. Anything. All that exists in the past exists in memory and what a precious facility to have that is.
Backlogged family events, past love - so distant, comfortably numb.
"There is no pain you are receding, A distant ships smoke on the horizon"
Yes I did just reference Pink Flloyd.
It seemed fitting.
Obviously I am no Heroin addict, however with a pun in place liberation is what I am...
...I am the Heroine of my very own story.
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