A Weekend Summer School

This weekend I had the opportunity to attend a local university summer school with Boy. I have to admit as the time got nearer I wasn't sure it was the right thing to do. I was worried about not fitting in; that it would be lots of big headed parents and that Boy would be out of his depth. How wrong could I be?

We had a fantastic time - in fact he quickly established himself and went off with the other children and got on with the workshops and activities. It was very tiring and very stimulating and very optimistic and everything, and much more, that I hoped it would be.

It made me understand that he copes well at school, that he does OK and that his social skills are just fine. Yeah maybe he doesn't have lots of close friends but that is OK with him so it is OK with me.

I was really tired when we came back on Sunday but also very elated, it has given us both a boost and that is good.

I have a job interview on Thursday and that is just what I needed to help me be more confident and more convinced of my ability to succeed.

A great time; a great summer school; a positive experience. Just what we needed.

Dix

Book Review - unless by Carol Shield

This year has been difficult financially and one of the consequences of this has been that I have not been able to buy many new books so I have taken to scouring the car boots and charity shops trying to find interesting reading. I decided that is was often difficult to find good books and to identify books that might be a bit more challenging or interesting. So my method was to look for anything that may have been shortlisted for an award or picked out by book clubs eg Richard and Judy etc. It hasn't always worked but mainly has been a pretty good method.

unless by Carol Shields was shortlisted for the Orange Prize for Fiction 2003 and sounded interesting. I was unsure when I started the book whether it wasn't going to be so good but I kept with it and in fact it turned out to be an amazing read. The basic story is about a woman writer who lives a good life with her family until one day her eldest daughter just leaves everything behind to sit on a street corner with a sign that says 'goodness'. I feel the book explores many themes; family, woman roles, politics, the nature of publishing, women's working life, etc and for the most does them well. I think perhaps that the feminist ideas in the novel aren't quite clear enough (neither weak or strong) but other themes help to balance the novel well. I would definitely read another piece of her work.

Dix

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

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.

The Sniper's Journal

The Sniper's Journal

I watched a program about Afghanistan on TV this week.

It showed families morning their children

trying to make sense of it.

Trying to justify their deaths.

It showed a young man with death in his eyes

telling us he is a sniper,

telling us he has killed 19.

19 dead and written in his notebook

because snipers keep count.

19 dead and written in his notebook

because snipers keep a death journal.

And his father, who took him to a firing

range to learn how to use his pistol

before he went on service.

So he could teach his son to defend

himself at close range.

His father was proud.

His father is a sniper too.

It's their family trade.

And it saved his son's life.

It saved his life the day he pulled his burning

best friend from their bombed vehicle.

Another one to write in his sniper journal.

His sniper journal full of 19 dead,

no names,

no descriptions,

just how he killled them and where.

19 dead in the snipers journal.

By DiH

I know I have blogged this before but have put it wanted to blog it again as have send a copy to Mr R.

A chance meeting

Recently I had a chance meeting with a fellow uni student. I hadn't seen him since the day I graduated. We met as I made my way back to the car after work and he was popping into the city. After a mutually warm greeting we chatted like old friends and I still can't believe how brilliant it was to be talking to another ex-grad about life our time at Uni and recent creative projects. I was surprised how animated and excited I became, it was like I had so much to say and so little time to say it in.

It sounds like he is also finding opportunities to use his degree and enjoy the skills he has learnt. He, like other graduates from our course, appears to have had a reasonably stressful first year after graduating before sitting back a little and weighing up the possibilities.

He must have thought I was a bit mad, I was certainly 'rabbiting on' like an excited child. After I got home and thought about our meeting I realised just how much I would love to go back to Uni and do my MA. Even though I am happy in work and feel happy in life I think the lessons I learnt in the three years of my degree could be applied to make an MA an even more successful and far less stressful experience.

Anyway Mr R was always a good poet and one particular poem always stayed with me, in fact, I printed off a copy from the forum and kept it. Now he has posted this poem up on YouTube for you all to hear.

Please follow the link -- it is a worthwhile experience.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MRag_8YnOyk

... sometimes i pretend to be a writer by Ben Shepard

Today I managed to buy the above book, at last. Ben Shepard was at Uni with me but sadly died suddenly in the second year. He was much missed from the course. This book was launched at Norwich Arts Centre in May but unfortunately I did not find out about the date until too late as was unable to attend. His sister has put together some of his writings and had them published.

I always like Ben, I felt that he was very much an individual and not afraid to voice his opinions. I felt he had lots of interesting things to say and was a good student to work alongside. We were not friends and I only had a couple of conversations with him during the time he was a Uni but I greatly respected him as both a fellow student and as a writer. I also like some of his Visual Art work, especially the Jelly full of fag ends and other assorted items. For me it worked.

Anyway I managed to get his book from Waterstones today and have started reading it and have been hugely impressed. I recognise some of the subjects he has written about from projects we completed as part of the course and yet realised I rarely heard him read them out in class or post them on the notice board.

I thought I would post one here for others to read as I feel his work should reach an audience.

I have become detached

I have become detached
An observer through the lens
Of an microscope
Familiar faces have become
Wriggling bacteria
In a Petri dish
Soon I will begin
My experiment


By Ben Shepard

More on Walt plus others blogs

will be but excrementitious.

This was the picture I used for this line of the poem. I still don't really know what excrementitious means as it doesn't seem to be in any dictionary but is obviously based on excrement so this was the picture I chose. There is something strange about this poem, almost haunting but could have an evil undertone - for me so difficult to read. Is is about inevitable death and god and love or is it about someone taking anothers life because they think it is the right thing to do or they think it is right. I would love to know if anyone is reading this blog if they have an opinion.

And on this point and I want to talk about my friends latest blog entry at

http://curiouslyspeaking.blogspot.com/

the one entitled Happy Birthday. This is an amazing entry. So honest and warm and really made me want to cry but in a good way. I hope she means me when she is talking about her friends even though I almost not dare to think that. I remember when we first met she seemed to have real issues about friendship and told me that she didn't really keep friends. Me, in my inevitable way, thought that meant that she didn't really want to be friendly with me outside Uni and that would a some point just walk away for reasons I might never know. In fact I remember thinking at least she was honest enough to say this might happen.

But this has not happened and we have been friends for a while, I guess 3 or 4 years and are now considering returning to Uni to do our MA's, although probably on different courses. It was so lovely to read her honesty and warm. I remember when we first met thinking that she was very guarded and appeared a little afraid of her feelings. (I have told her that and I do know that she may read my blog! - Hi RC if you do read this) and thinking that I am too emotional for her - I probably still am but we found a way to cope with our differences. She has supported me through so much both at Uni and since and I hope I have supported her too. Anyway just to say I guess, what a brill blog and mainly what a brill friend. I love you (not in the Katie Perrie way, cherry chapstick) , but in the true friendship way. Although the does beg the question would I snog her??? Perhaps more on that another time.

And work

Another day at work, but then the weekend. Hope the day goes quickly and the weekend slowly and maybe the newspaper will have a new opportuntity. But if not this week then maybe next.

And I want to tidy my house, sort out some paperwork and letters, maybe a bit of gardening, kick back and watch TV, walk the dog, play Wii fit, laugh, make love and be happy. Not bad for a weekend!!

Maybe more today - later

A Promise

Every day I think about things I want to put on my blog, ideas, opinions, pieces of writing, photos etc. And every day I don't achieve this. My promise is to try and blog at least twice a week. It means that at least I am writing something at least twice a week.

A couple of weeks ago I attended the MA end of year show at Uni. Some of the work was very good, in fact absolutely amazing. A video piece on memory and reality just blew me away. I just had to watch it and watch it and was lucky enough to see the artist to speak to him. I picked up a novel written as part of the Writing the Visual and managed to read the first 3 chapters but ran out of time. I so wanted to read the whole book - it was good - very good. Some of the work was not so good (or I had real trouble engaging with it - or even understanding it). The trouble is now I really want to do my MA. Next September it would be lovely to be studying again, even if only part time, to be able to put together both written and visual work would be so good. But it is only a dream. My current financial situation will not be sorted in a year, it may not be sorted in ten years!!

This year has been pretty awful for me - my illness, my mental state has been difficult, teetering on the edge of 'that kind of madness'. I know I am lucky that my friends and family have supported me and not allowed me to dive into the abyss but it still sometimes seems very welcoming. It still sometimes seems the answer. I miss Uni so much. I miss the creativity, I miss the conversation, I miss being an aged art student. It felt the most like 'being me' that I have felt since being a child. I wish I had worried less about fitting it and just lived the dream to its fullest extent. But hey, that is me always worrying I am not good enough, always seeing how good others are and missing my own potential.

I have been off line for a while, my hard drive failed. Now it could have just been one of those things and I guess that is what I thought it was and then something really strange occurred to me. The last photographs I uploaded were from the disused mental hospital in Norwich. I published a couple in my last blog. But some were very haunting, they appeared to hold the pain of past patients and were almost painful to look at. Did these photos make my hard drive fail?

A friend managed to save most of my data - he managed to rescue many of the photos but guess what most of the ones from the hospital have gone - only 3 remain - and they were the two I published and one showing my car. Even typing this is making me feel a bit 'creepy up the spine'. Ah well - I will never know and unfortunately I will never get to look at the photos properly.

I really should be in bed as I am very tired - I just want to sleep but didn't want to go to bed without blogging something. I will end with some of my 'words'. A piece I started a while ago and carry around in my latest handbag notebook. I think it is a work in progress.

Contradiction

am i a contradiction?
light and dark
bacon and cream
like chocolate
glass half empty
glass half full
am I
that kinda girl?

do they love me?
do they hate me?
normal.
am i
normal?

i wake to a heavy pain
that turns to feathered happiness
am i
that kinda girl?

do they hate me?
do they love me?
normal
am i
normal?


running, walking
smiling, frowning
unable, static, still
and eating
eating
bread and brown sauce,
cookies and ice
is that the kinda
girl I am?

do I love me?
do I hate me?
normal
am I
normal?

am I
a
contradiction
or
normal?

By DiH

Why I struggle with Poetry

I have been reading lots of poetry recently. For two reasons I think - firstly because I have little time and poetry is easy to read when time is limited and secondly because I keep thinking about how I wish I had been able to understand and grasp poetry at Uni. I often think in a kind of poetry, although I just call it words but in class I often sat there with a complete lack of understanding of what was being said and even worse why? And then I was told that my words weren't poetry and that stuck. I went to Uni with no background in poetry and no understanding just a little fear and anticipation. I left Uni with no understanding of poetry and lots of fear.

But at least I now read poetry regularly, buy lots of second hand poetry books from charity shops and enjoy what I enjoy. So maybe it did some good.

I found this quote by Spike Milligan in his book 'Hidden Words' and thought it summed up how I feel about poetry -

'I don't understand poetry. I read quite a bit of it and I enjoy it, sometimes; some of it goes down easily, some is totally baffling. I am not an intellectual, I have struggled with Ezra Pound'.

Not sure I have read any Exra Pound but I struggle with George S and Andrea, and Tim C and many others from Uni. But some poetry is just wonderful, it says so much in such a small space.

I like this poem by Spike Milligan - I understand it too well.

MANIC DEPRESSION

The pain is too much
A thousand grim winters
grow in my head.
In my ears
the sound of the
coming dead.
All seasons
All sane
All living
All pain.
No opiate to lock still
my senses
Only left,
the body locked tenses.

By Spike Milligan
St Luke's Hospital
Psychiatric Wing
1953/4

I don't think I am manic depressive, and I have never been in a psychiatric hospital but this feeling of absolute pain still fits and as for opiates locking away senses - medication locks away so much, the sense, the imagination, the core of me. Anyway back to poetry, just these few words fill me with emotion and also a thankfulness that I am not alone. Guess it is all a bit cliche but it makes me glad as well as sad.

D