Sunday, 27 September 2015

Turns and Spirals (Natural Formes)

My Mind, The Thoughts and Things
Served with a sparkle a hint of rebellion and a smile.
(a smile turns out to be irony by the end sorry if thats what you wanted, it didnt come)

As I open my laptop to werite this on Wednesday 23rd September 2015 google greets me with a surprise. A doodle of the seasons harvest and a cheerful sqiwrel hopping about. I hovwer 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 yoer flown to? It has flown past like thoughts. like the soundse/ sentenses that go in one ear and out the other.

Things in the near past have been evenyful to say the least. Ive been to concerts, dfestivals, scholl and back home again. To the sea, wild, forest, abandoned schools, pubs and parks. Been on walks with families and fue. Seen bress bands ans french markets. Eaten coconut cakes, piella, salads, tryed vegan settled for vegetarian, though im doing ir bwcause of the animals; when it comes to school meals my brain just isnt thinking staight. link now i suppose.

School; Maths English Science
Biology Chemistry Physics
Optiona/ American electives: Philospophy and Ethics, Geography, ICT amd Photography.
Pe Citezenship

Photography... Im loving taking the pictures and have progressed so far over the course. the part im loving is the creative freedom. well saying that there is somr things we cant to but thats fine. taking picutres is the best part but analysing ansd editing isnt the best. i do it but id much rather go out and take pictures.

i type this at 18:11 listening to lana del Rey's new albu, honeymoon. Listen to it and its obvious why im writing like this. sat crunched up in bed in my fancy grey coat and burgandy/purple dressing gown, jeans socks and my pearls. Something new i picked up from a retro shop called space, a weighty real pearl neclave and matching earings. it was an emotional buy lets say. the story goes like this. i found a dress, fell head over heals for it, tryed it on curtseyed, bowed took pictures smiled my hwart burst our of me and at only £20 i had to call it mone. Got back into my clothes stepped from the changing tooms greeting Father with the bifggest simile i have ever remenbered. he pulles his nose up at it and replied, "are you sure you like it?" to that i biurst... ,"Yes! Ilove it, look ill show you a picture iof it" he didnt like what he saw, mother and my sister caught a view of it and agreed with him. they didnt even like the shop and found their way outside. The jewelry was below a windoe. 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 cleanch the pearls hedding to the counrer. i emptied my purse and stopped my self from thinking about the beauty of a dress i just experienced. a black early 18th centuary beauty. the master piece flattered me in ever possible way. contrasting its neighbor, a !950's christain dior gold structured sleaveless dress and a 196-'s gold Chanel masterpice. cleanching my brain dtopping thoughts from the day, lrts hope you're satisfied mith my story cut dhort.

geography is maps cities and colouering in

english, ugh the tears i have shead for english... many. the highlight of the last acedemic year. english was my daily best, the daily smilr to let these ideas flow to write line lana's album honeymoon especially the song burnt norton - interlude. take a lidten i wrote like that, freely and with opraise. 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 its 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, ,y last days of the year spent giving goodbyues 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 vioce 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 windpw displaying a beautiful oveergrown area of the scchool the sun dancing through into some parts letting pretty purple and yellow wild flowers flourish. in frount 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, 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 atatched and could write pages in that purple book and blue anthology. The charming ending to the year was once again crushed my the fact........ well Sir would write the nicest comments when marking my work constructive yet caring something none of the others did, he obviously say 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 id gone back i dont know what id do, turns out the new teacher took the emotional route at the other end of tje school so id be safe there out of the class of last year. ,,,,......... worst of all my books , i handed them in thinking that he might read throught 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 couldnt 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 wasnt the same. its strictly techniques and fancy words. an example, my new teacher gave out a homework. find the definition of literary heritage and contempary poems. i struggled to find it so i ended up enjoying my evening writing 3 a4 pages explaining wahat 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 id written to much, i think. its just not the same and what i loved is gone, those pesky tears have found a way out again, i honestly dont like english any more. im torn and worn my joy my english my creative words and little praise has gone so if anyone wants to know why im "not myself" or "not in a good mood"...... i'll send them here, i was fragile with few peers to start with so when english came filled me up and gave me joy again it was wonderful but now. now im shaking , i cant tske it. my joy has gonr. suppose its just fully light now if we are getting litral. okay ill pull myself together for next week but lets hope yours is better than this.

Big love to you all, (fully light)

Joyfully Light.

© Joyfully Light | All rights reserved.
Blogger Template Designed by pipdig