“The funny thing about it all is that literary talent isn’t rare. Lots of people can write good stories with good characters and great sentences. What’s rare is the stubborn, pragmatic thing that tells you ‘I’ve got to do this every single day, even when I don’t want to do it, when I’d rather pluck my eyes out and feed them to the birds.’ That discipline combined with talent is very rare. I’d be willing to bet that some of the most brilliant writers who ever lived have never been published, because they weren’t prepared to do the work. You have to make sacrifices and be utterly selfish. Everything else and everyone else is secondary to your writing.”
Pluck. Pluck. Pluck. That’s what success takes.
You just learned a bit about me:
- I am a cuddler.
- I am a morning person.
- I am an only child.
- I am currently in my pajamas.
- I am currently pregnant.
- I am left handed.
- I am a little shy around the opposite gender at first.
- I bite my nails.
- I can be paranoid at times.
- I enjoy country music.
- I enjoy smoothies.
- I enjoy talking on the phone.
- I have a car.
- I have/had a hard time paying attention at school.
- I have a hidden talent.
- I have a pet.
- I have a tendency to fall for the “wrong” guy/girl.
- I have all my grandparents.
- I have been to another country.
- I have been told that I have an unusual sense of humor.
- I have or had broken a bone.
- I have caller I.D. on my phone.
- I have bathed/showered someone.
- I have changed a diaper.
- I have changed a lot over the past year.
- I have friends who have never seen my natural hair colour.
- I have had major/minor surgery.
- I have killed another person.
- I have had my hair cut within the last week.
- I have mood swings.
- I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.
- I have rejected someone before.
- I like the taste of blood.
- I love Michael Jackson.
- I love sleeping.
- I love to shop.
- I own 100 CDs or more.
- I own and use a library card.
- I read books for pleasure in my spare time.
- I sleep a lot during the day.
- I watch soap operas on a regular basis.
- I work at a job that I enjoy.
- I would (consider to) get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free.
- I am currently wearing socks.
- I am tired.
- I love to paint/draw/sketch/sculpt.
- I consume at least one alcoholic drink every month.
- Graduated high school.
- Smoked cigarettes.
- Ridden every ride at an amusement park.
- Collected something really stupid.
- Gone to a concert.
- Helped someone.
- Spun turn tables.
- Watched four movies in one night.
- Been broken up with.
- Been kissed.
- Taken a college level course.
- Been in a car accident.
- Been in a tornado.
- Watched someone die.
- Been to a funeral.
- Burned yourself.
- Ran a marathon.
- Your parents got divorced.
- Cried yourself to sleep.
- Spent over $200 in one day.
- Written a 10 page letter.
- Had a best friend.
- Lost someone you loved.
- Skipped school.
- Gotten in trouble for something you didn’t do.
- Stolen books from the library.
- Been in a mental hospital.
- Watched the “Harry Potter” movies.
- Fired a gun.
- Been in a school play/musical.
- Been fired from a job.
- Taken a lie detector test.
- Swam with dolphins.
- Attempted suicide.
- Written poetry.
- Read more than 20 books a year.
- Gone to Europe.
- Loved someone you couldn’t have.
- Used a coloring book over age 12.
- Had surgery.
- Had stitches.
- Taken a taxi.
- Had more than 5 online conversations going at once.
- Had a hamster.
- Dyed your hair.
- Had something pierced.
- Gotten straight A’s.
- Your parents sent you to a shrink.
- Been handcuffed.
My hair is naturally the color:
- Light brown
- Medium brown
- Dark brown
- Dirty blonde
- Strawberry blonde/Ginger
My eyes are:
- Light brown
- A combination of things
People sometimes label me as:
Some of my biggest fears are:
- The future
- Not being loved
- Free falling
- Failing at something
- Being forgotten
- Getting blood taken
- Dying slowly
- A friend with benefits
- A laptop in my room
- A television in my room
- Good grades
- My own car
- Married parents
The Love Book is an app for iOS and andriod devices chock full of literature about love in all forms, including platonic, romantic, and love after death. The selections range from poems by authors like Emily Dickinson and William Wordsworth, to prose selections from Shakespeare and Harry Potter, to real life love letters and short stories.
There’s also the option to hear many of the selections read aloud by Helen McCroy, Damian Lewis, Helena Bonham Carter, Gina Bellman, and of course… Tom Hiddleston. You can buy the app for $2.99 from the itunes store or for $3.21 from the google play store. I personally thought it was well worth paying for.
Wow. I am glad this happened. A powerful, powerful poem. One of my favourites. Glad this was done.
I went into the high street, mind made up to lunch alone at the DCA, even if it was only soup. I wanted luxurious soup. The pedestrian sign was green but habitual irrationality gripped me. I always fear that the sign will burn red right when I am in the middle of the road. So I didn’t cross it but walked up. After the sign had turned red, I walked down again and pressed the button. Green.
Instead of the DCA, I walk into the noodle bar. Order the usual - small noodle box, extra vegetables, today it was satay instead of spicy coconut, and because I wanted to splurge - tofu. Four pounds fifty.
I walk on. Perhaps I should sit in the library, munching crisps, browsing airline tickets. But crisps make too much noise in the silent zone. I turn back.
I go into the DCA. Maybe, a piece of cake with some coffee. But it’s too posh for me to sit alone. And I forgot to carry a book to hide behind, To get lost in. Head into the shop. This art print I’ve been eyeing is still there. It is too expensive to buy just now. If it is mine, it will come to me … I browse … Finally I see something else which I’ve wanted for a long time. Dice. For storytelling. I buy them in a jiff. Power of Ten by Charles and Ray Eames fascinates me. The inside of a carbon atom looks like space. I don’t buy it.
In H&M there is a beautiful purple jumper and khaki trousers on sale. I wander about with them in the shop. Even try the purple on. It fits beautifully. Then, I stash them away. The same in the next few shops where I find lovely clothes, on reduced prices. I don’t have anywhere regular to go. Maybe there are cheaper clothes elsewhere…
Henry’s. I buy a raspberry and white chocolate muffin, and a small cappuccino. One coffee away from a huge mug of free hot chocolate. A nice email slows my speed eating. I don’t loiter…
Maybe I should get a shampoo, a nice new conditioner, how about the Soap & Glory perfume? Is it too tacky? I need to go to Tesco’s. Buy Quavers. Maybe also crisps. Tomatoes. Kitchen roll. I load the basket and leave it … it is too heavy a weight … on me …
The sun has set. Little girls in burkhas gossipping about what grosses them out.
I am on my doorstep, fumbling in my parka for my key. The pack of tissues falls, I pick it up. I check my phone. No messages. I try to remember which way the key goes in to the lock … The door opens.
Indoors, silent, dark.
Project Unknown | via Tumblr on We Heart It. http://weheartit.com/entry/81992973/via/projectunknown
The last of 2013. The year is a dying tribe, few of its members remain. For me, the academic year is also, almost over. And my student life drawing at an end.
We had an MLitt event today - a sort of Showcase. A fancy word really. But more people turned up than I expected, which I wasn’t best pleased about.
So, a dark and wet morning and I was up first to read my poems. And I did.
Normally I’ve been the person whose had a sleepless night or two before having to get up on a platform, but today, I only found my hands shaking after I was standing up there.
Part of it was because - fuck you, academics. Yes, after all that slog and tears and pain, I’m still second rung. (Soundtrack Speed of Sound here). And then it’s because I’ve learnt the hard way that if one is reading poetry - it can’t be done with an expectation to be understood. It might happen. But to not count on it. To go out there, sing my song, the best I can - even if it’s not very good.
And also because - you know, at this point in time, with it being up for neither assessment or audition, I had nothing to lose.
Maybe I would have taken a very different approach in any other situation.
But hopefully, not.
This change is real because, fuck you - academics.
It’s been a long day. I am sad about something. The day is then spent in good company which cheers me up. We part. I haven’t eaten in hours. On my way back I go to the Henry’s I like, there are two in the city.
I order an egg chicken mayo toastie, with hot tea and Firefly. In the corner are two empty chairs. Outside the world is fading into grey. I take off my jacket and open Virginia Woolf’s diary to entries for the year 1928. The toastie arrives, I pour myself a cup of tea. Then I listen to Woolf talk about her lecture at Girton college, and munch my sandwich, sip my tea. It’s so hot it burns the roof of my mouth, but, it is yummy and so satisfying.
Woolf talks about the ups and downs of waiting for reviews. I am relieved that I am not the only one to take it all personally. I finish my sandwich and put on my parka.
Seances in the coffee shop. Words which bring the dead to life, and food which makes the living survive.
"(L)ife has to be sloughed: has to be faced: to be rejected; then accepted on new terms with rapture…"