I heard today that the husband of a friend has committed suicide. It is such sad news and has really rocked me. I knew that he had mental health problems and also they had marriage problems but you always hope that the 'darkness' will not be so bad that he feels the only option is death. It is at these time that I wish that I didn't understand but I do and seeing the terrible mess left behind I hope that will be enough to discourage 'bad thoughts' in the future. I feel the terrible pain of this children and wonder how this will affect them for the rest of their days - I understand my friends anger and sadness and guilt for what he has done and just hope they can all find a way forward, past funerals and paperwork, past recriminations and anger, past pain and tears and have a happy fulfulled and understanding future.
God be with them - God bless his soul.
Dix
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Saturday, 24 July 2010
News, news, news
Firstly I didn't get any of the jobs I applied for (see previous post) and although I was initially upset that I didn't even get an interview I then though hey, maybe somebody is trying to tell me something. At the moment I am going to enjoy the summer holidays with 'boy', do a few hours at work (nights but only one so that should be ok) and write. If I see a job I really want then I will go for it if not I will at this time wait for inspiration. Maybe something will come up. I know that I should probably be more proactive and I understand that our financial situation means I should be looking for a good job but hey it will surely come with time.
Secondly me and JC and Luna and one other lady called N are going to get our work published. And I am now starting to feel really excited. It feels like it is really going to happen. I have to get my work together to fill 20 pages (approx a5) but feel that this will be great something to show people, something concrete to hold and keep me motivated. It is so inspirational to be with the others and putting our work together - to have positive motivating inclusive criticism (if you know what I mean) and to work with people who see me as a creative person first and all the rest of it second. We met up and talked writing and politics and religion and it was fantastic. The work showcased was amazing (JC's long poem is unbelievably good and so inspired) although I am a little jealous that she can create something like this is one go - even if I could it would take me weeks to create a piece of work like that.
So watch this space for news on our soon to be self published book - Cherry Picker.
Mog
Secondly me and JC and Luna and one other lady called N are going to get our work published. And I am now starting to feel really excited. It feels like it is really going to happen. I have to get my work together to fill 20 pages (approx a5) but feel that this will be great something to show people, something concrete to hold and keep me motivated. It is so inspirational to be with the others and putting our work together - to have positive motivating inclusive criticism (if you know what I mean) and to work with people who see me as a creative person first and all the rest of it second. We met up and talked writing and politics and religion and it was fantastic. The work showcased was amazing (JC's long poem is unbelievably good and so inspired) although I am a little jealous that she can create something like this is one go - even if I could it would take me weeks to create a piece of work like that.
So watch this space for news on our soon to be self published book - Cherry Picker.
Mog
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
Another job application
Another job application filled in - and handed in at the last minute (but just on time). On paper I have just about all that they are asking for. On paper I should be a good candidate. But will I get an interview - who can say. I hope so. Just have to move on to the next application.
Filling in endless applications can be soul destroying and monotonous but it has to be done.
We will see.
Filling in endless applications can be soul destroying and monotonous but it has to be done.
We will see.
Sunday, 27 June 2010
Not being paid- again
I got my payslip from Mencap early this month and what a bloody mess. They haven't paid me again. I know that I only work as and when and that my hours have to be input every month but it is so frustrating that when I really need the money like now I just don't get it. They already owed me 6 hours (which I have been owed for a couple of months) and now it just got worse. Those of you who know me, or have been reading my blog will know that I am not doing so great with money at mo so every penny counts.
We are hoping to have a very cheap but fun camping holiday - I have saved some money to go and was counting on my wages to help with the costs. And now no wages - and I am worrying how I am going to pay for the holiday.
Trouble is I really need a break - time away from home, from bills, from stress and worry. And I should be able to count on my wages when I have earnt them. I shouldn't have to beg for money I am owed. But seems like I so often am. I have got to get a job that pays every month and is regular and not too badly paid.
I feel angry and upset and worried and stressed and well thoroughly pissed off - and all I want is my wages. I cried at work when I told them about it as it has really upset me - I made plans that might just about work and now it is all well, buggered.
Life's just a bitch. Maybe I should check my lottery tickets - that will be another downer!!!
Mog
We are hoping to have a very cheap but fun camping holiday - I have saved some money to go and was counting on my wages to help with the costs. And now no wages - and I am worrying how I am going to pay for the holiday.
Trouble is I really need a break - time away from home, from bills, from stress and worry. And I should be able to count on my wages when I have earnt them. I shouldn't have to beg for money I am owed. But seems like I so often am. I have got to get a job that pays every month and is regular and not too badly paid.
I feel angry and upset and worried and stressed and well thoroughly pissed off - and all I want is my wages. I cried at work when I told them about it as it has really upset me - I made plans that might just about work and now it is all well, buggered.
Life's just a bitch. Maybe I should check my lottery tickets - that will be another downer!!!
Mog
Saturday, 26 June 2010
Last night
Last night me and JC went to a Uni do. She really didn't want to go and I kinda made her - which gave me a huge responsibility. Then all day I was thinking of ways of not going and in the end I just thought why I am so worried - just go say goodbye to the course leader and come away. So we went - with huge trepidation.
Anyway when I got there I felt ok. There wasn't anyone else from my year and it was a nice relaxed atmosphere. I spoke to my Visual lecturer, (and I think JC is actually right in what she said about him but that's another story), I spoke to the Course Leader and got to say thank you - and got to say that it really did matter and it really had made a major difference to my life and thank you, thank you, thank you. I spoke about football to the poetry guy and it was a nice night.
So we decided to go - our time was over - I even spoke to 'folder holder' but just hello but JC didn't (but that's another post).
Then as we were leaving two students turned up who we worked with and really liked, especially N and it was just like being back in the old days. So much creativity just oozing out of us - ideas and challenges and a definite push to get the Cherry Picker published (how great would that be). We sat for absolutely ages just talking ideas and JC looked so alive and so happy and it was just well, FAB. I got ideas for stories and was able to make promises to take work with me for a meeting next month to talk about our work and start putting it together for CP.
I am so glad I went. I am so glad it was so positive and brilliant. I have a positive closure and a way forward.
Just thankful I was brave enough.
Thursday, 24 June 2010
Return - After
He stops at the gate and waits, staring at the ornate metal work chosen by his mother to be shaped like a rose. He pushes the gate gently, at first, then much firmer, much harder. It squeals open. The noise reminds him of a coffin lid opening from the black and white Hammer Horror films of his youth.
He walks purposefully up the path; stepping over the weeds pushing up through the gaps in the slabs. It was never like this before. Never. This garden was always neatly weeded, flowers deadheaded, daffodils cuts and tied – the flower beds carefully hoed. The lawn edged neat and dead straight – no blade of grass uneven.
Now the flowerbeds are undistinguishable from the lawn.
The Royal Blue door stands shut in front of him, layers of paint peeling away in finger tip sized circles exposing the colours underneath. Each layer showing the same Royal Blue but each slightly more faded.
He knocks at the door, quietly at first then persistently, knocking again and again. He waits a response. None comes. Nobody answers. Nobody comes. He rings the doorbell, moving closer to the door, placing his ear again the cool paint work to hear it ringing. There is no sound. The doorbell is dead.
He tries the door handle. And stops, his heart beating so loud it echoes in his head. Then he remembers the endless days of rushing through this door; announcing his homecoming and forgetting to shut the door behind him. His mother shouting ‘You make enough noise to wake the dead and put the wood in the hole will you’.
And for that moment he wants to rush through the door and shout, shout his arrival. He pushes the door open and steps inside. ‘I’m home’ he says. His words are spoken quietly, softly to no one there. The words do not reverberate outside of him.
Suddenly he smells a memory. A memory masked by the smell of uninhabited musky dust and damp. Fighting through the years – the smell of floral antiseptic and wax furniture polish; the smell of red hot ironed cotton; the smell of yesterday’s poached fish and boiling beef stew; the smell of stale Embassy No 6 and freshly scrubbed ash trays. The smells of his youth. The smells of his mother.
He walks purposefully up the path; stepping over the weeds pushing up through the gaps in the slabs. It was never like this before. Never. This garden was always neatly weeded, flowers deadheaded, daffodils cuts and tied – the flower beds carefully hoed. The lawn edged neat and dead straight – no blade of grass uneven.
Now the flowerbeds are undistinguishable from the lawn.
The Royal Blue door stands shut in front of him, layers of paint peeling away in finger tip sized circles exposing the colours underneath. Each layer showing the same Royal Blue but each slightly more faded.
He knocks at the door, quietly at first then persistently, knocking again and again. He waits a response. None comes. Nobody answers. Nobody comes. He rings the doorbell, moving closer to the door, placing his ear again the cool paint work to hear it ringing. There is no sound. The doorbell is dead.
He tries the door handle. And stops, his heart beating so loud it echoes in his head. Then he remembers the endless days of rushing through this door; announcing his homecoming and forgetting to shut the door behind him. His mother shouting ‘You make enough noise to wake the dead and put the wood in the hole will you’.
And for that moment he wants to rush through the door and shout, shout his arrival. He pushes the door open and steps inside. ‘I’m home’ he says. His words are spoken quietly, softly to no one there. The words do not reverberate outside of him.
Suddenly he smells a memory. A memory masked by the smell of uninhabited musky dust and damp. Fighting through the years – the smell of floral antiseptic and wax furniture polish; the smell of red hot ironed cotton; the smell of yesterday’s poached fish and boiling beef stew; the smell of stale Embassy No 6 and freshly scrubbed ash trays. The smells of his youth. The smells of his mother.
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
Loved
It felt good for a while.
Just for a moment.
It felt right.
It felt like the right thing
just for a while.
It made me feel
just for a while.
It made me feel nice.
It made me feel
like a woman.
Just for a while.
Just for a while
I felt loved.
June 2010
Just for a moment.
It felt right.
It felt like the right thing
just for a while.
It made me feel
just for a while.
It made me feel nice.
It made me feel
like a woman.
Just for a while.
Just for a while
I felt loved.
June 2010
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