Sunday, 27 September 2015

Turns and Spirals (Un-natural Beings)

My Mind, The Thoughts and Things
Served With a Sparkle a Hint of Rebellion and a Smile.



As I open my laptop to write this on Wednesday 23rd September 2015 google greets me with a surprise. A doodle of the season's harvest and a cheerful squirrel hopping about. I hover over the drawing when it tells me it's the first day of Autumn.

The First Day of Autumn, fall for the four hundred American visitors on here.

anyway that got me thinking, where on earth has this year flown to? It has flown past like thoughts. like the sounds/sentences that go in one ear and out the other.

Things in the near past have been eventful to say the least. I've been to concerts, festivals, school and back home again. To the sea, wild, forest, abandoned schools, pubs and parks. Been on walks with families and fur. Seen brass bands and french markets. Eaten coconut cakes, paella, salads, tried vegan settled for vegetarian, though I'm doing it because of the animals; when it comes to school meals my brain just isn't thinking straight. Like now I suppose.

School; Maths, English and Science
Biology, Chemistry, Physics
Options/ American electives: Philosophy and Ethics, Geography, ICT and Photography.
Pe, Citizenship.

Photography... I'm loving taking the pictures and have progressed so far over the course. The part I'm loving is the creative freedom. Well saying that there is some things we can't to but that's fine. taking pictures is the best part but analysing and editing isn't the best. I do it but I'd much rather go out and take pictures.

I type this at 18:11 listening to Lana del Rey's new album, honeymoon. Listen to it and it's obvious why I'm writing like this. Sat crunched up in bed in my fancy grey coat and burgundy/purple dressing gown, jeans socks and my pearls. Something new I picked up from a retro shop called space, a weighty real pearl necklace and matching earrings. It was an emotional buy let's say. The story goes like this. I found a dress, fell head over heals for it, tried it on curtseyed, bowed took pictures smiled my heart burst out of me and at only £20 i had to call it mine. Got back into my clothes stepped from the changing rooms greeting Father with the biggest simile i have ever remembered. he pulled his nose up at it and replied, "are you sure you like it?" to that I burst... ,"Yes! I Love it, look i'll show you a picture of it" he didn't like what he saw, Mother and my Sister caught a view of it and agreed with him. they didn't even like the shop and found their way outside. The jewelry was below a window. I looked out to see them casually leaning against the crazy tall buildings looking up at me. they signat me so hurry up. i shought no as the window is open, they laugh i clench the pearls heading to the counter. I emptied my purse and stopped myself from thinking about the beauty of a dress i just experienced. a black early 18th century beauty. The master piece flattered me in every possible way. contrasting its neighbor, a 1950's Christian Dior gold structured sleeveless dress and a 1960's gold Chanel masterpiece. Clenching my brain stopping thoughts from the day, let's hope you're satisfied with my story cut short.

Geography is maps,cities and colouring in

English, ugh the tears I have shed for English... many. the highlight of the last academic year. English was my daily best, the daily smile to let these ideas flow to write line lana's album honeymoon especially the song burnt norton - interlude. take a listen I wrote like that, freely and with praise with people who cared, truly there for me. I Loved It! (writing with tears bouncing above my lashes and sliding down my face and at the memories, memories of what I had and will never get back, now in full on silent rivers shaking closed lids it's dark like William and his pieces, William Shakespeare. I am getting like this because........ My teacher the literature hero sharing wisdom and life stories has retired. He is traveling the world, the last days of the year spent giving goodbyes to him. I handed in my book with a letter that read "happy retirement" it stook out of my book, i sweetly handed it over my voice softly let out, " can I hand my book in" how cheeky I know. The room, I sat second row in from the back next to the radiator and up in my glance was a large window displaying a beautiful overgrown area of the school the sun dancing through into some parts letting pretty purple and yellow wild flowers flourish. In front of me a woman, his painting, she came, she was noticed half way through, sitting on a blue cloth in the corner next to what looked like pictures of his grown up children, I never got close enough to see them clearly though. Most teachers say where they were from but English was different he was giving of wisdom and children's stories but not of his life, much. I know of his long hair and late '60's charm, all of this he told me when analysing poems. These poems I am going back on this week and last. It crushes me to do that i was attached and could write pages in that purple book and blue anthology. The charming ending to the year was once again crushed by the fact........ well Sir would write the nicest comments when marking my work constructive yet caring something none of the others did, he obviously saw potential in last years me. He moved me up I thought it was for the best for me to get out of the space I spent all the joy, if i'd gone back I don't know what i'd do, turns out the new teacher took the emotional route at the other end of the school so i'd be safe there out of the class of last year....... Worst of all my books , I handed them in thinking that he might read through it all mark it for the last time pass it on to my new teacher, in the top set and bid his final farewell............ It couldn't be any further than that, I return after the loss of all the joy that kept me going into a new class, I knew no one none of the texts they were studying and the room just wasn't the same. Its strictly techniques and fancy words. An example, my new teacher gave out a homework. Find the definition of literary heritage and contemporary poems. I struggled to find it so I ended up enjoying my evening writing 3 A4 pages explaining what I thought of it and some opinions on the poems. My feedback from the teacher was along the lines of thanks for sharing your opinions but ask me about how much you should write for the homework, basically saying that I had written to much, I think. It's just not the same and what I loved is gone, those pesky tears have found a way out again, I honestly don't like english any more. I'm torn and worn, my joy my english my creative words and little praise has gone so if anyone wants to know why i'm "not myself" or "not in a good mood"...... I'll send them here, I was fragile before, with few peers to start with so when english came filled me up and gave me joy again it was wonderful but now. Now i'm shaking , I can't take it. My joy has gone. Suppose it's just Fully Light now if we are getting literal. Okay I'll pull myself together for next week but let's hope yours is better than this. If I don't think about it then I'm okay, I just thought I'd share this with you.

Big love to you all, (fully light)

Joyfully Light.

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