[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.

[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.

[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...

[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]

[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.

[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.

[8] Two Parts

Currently living in London.
Initially, as I walked around clutching my London A-Z staring wide-eyed at surroundings, I found it a little daunting - It is after all only my fourth time in London.
Perhaps I didn't fully appreciate it back in January - it was cold - but this time, there's something quite satisfying about finishing a 9 hour day and crashing out in the park with dinner, a drink and a good book.

OK so walking back to an empty apartment isn't ideal. Thankfully I have old & new friends to amplify conversation and good times throughout the void.
Building new memories to replace the old, tarnished ones. That is the aim...
Maybe the focus should not be on substitution, merely addition. After all, I like the past, I like what was. What precedes is integral to the present and future after all!

I find it fascinating - I'd go as far as to say that I find it quite romantic; In love with the ghost of the past. Perchance it is my own ghost from the past treading eroded paths in search of familiarity and that overwhelming youthful mass of warmth - not so much the figure typing reflectively here in haste.
I find it sad, not a sadness for me, but for the little girl who lost her little boy. I feel her sadness, wandering aimlessly throughout passages of time in search of all he was.

I hope they find one another one day, I think they will... long after both myself and himself have left this world...

As for me, well looking forward to returning home and making the most of the summer to come. The summer of '09 is going to be immense!