A brand-new day

Good morning, everyone!

I woke up this morning, slightly more tired than I should be, though this time I can harbor the blame. Ha-ha. I’ve stayed up later the past few nights after having a break from my daughter. Thanks to my parents I’ve had four whole days to myself, and I should’ve been doing important things, and I suppose I did, sort of.

You know how it is, when given time, we tend to waste it. That being said, I rose up the ladder on a game, and fell in the same weekend thanks to a falling out between members of my tribe. Ha-ha, all good fun. I also took a look at my language project, and have been writing a story. I’ve restarted the story three times, and aim  to get it done today– this week. Hopefully. I’m sure I’ll get everything done and hopefully I can find that concentration I’m lacking.

Does anyone know where I left it?

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Tai Chi in the morning

This morning, I woke up with the beating sound of my music pulsing through the sound like a stomping elephant. It was a good feeling. Usually, everything is tiring, or a rush rush.

Whilst making my morning porridge I actually began a set of tai chi, with the bowl in hand and eating it between the steps. Productive, right? I did not spill a drop, either. Sometimes, when I wake up like this, and have a smile on my face I can’t help but feel like things are getting better, truly. I’m looking forward to the summer. It feels to me, like the summer will be good.

I’ll be starting the gym when I receive my next payment of student finance, and I’ll be equipping myself with the resources to help fix the flow of my studies next year. Hopefully, I get myself sorted. If I fail anything this year, I’m quitting computer games. I know, a daring threat, right?

Losing something you’re trying to find

I’m sitting here late at night, thinking about a gap that I’ve had for as long as I remember and as I think back I get reminded of every time I’ve ever had a reading.

When reading, I mean Tarot Cards. I’ve had my fortune told about five times over the last five years, really. Every single time the person reading my cards told me I’m letting someone control my life. Every time. They would announce, “You’re trapped, by choice.” and I couldn’t understand the concept. And I know sometimes I feel trapped, seeing as I know that I’m going to be bringing my daughter up on my own for the next two decades. That being said, my parents have been helping me more than I’d imagined they would.

They have truly been a marvel. But I can’t help but always creeping back to this sentiment of being trapped by choice. Every time I try to understand it my brain hurts. Then, at the end of the pain I give faint smile, as if it’s okay. It completely baffles me.

I think about the past quite often, and some could, or would say I’m rather stuck in it. Typical Welshman I suppose. Though that is the case I feel there is more to it than I can put into words. Imagine always feeling like there’s a void in your heart. Unexplainable, unreachable? Inescapable. Now, do you understand? It’s like losing your soul mate, though you know you’re yet to meet the person. It’s like being divorced after believing you’ll spend your whole life with someone.

And don’t get me wrong… I’ve met others like it. I’ve met people who share this feeling, though not often.

Sometimes, when someone asks me what I’m looking for in a person, I can’t answer because sometimes it feels like I’m not looking for a type, but a person I’m yet to meet. It’s like I’ve met them already, but who knows how it works or how anything works really. It’s just confusing.

So, I’ve decided to remove myself from the search. I’ve taken myself off any form of online dating, and stepped away from any foolish romance. The only person I need to look after is my daughter, and if someone wants to share my company they can come find me… as I’m not searching any more. I’ve simply not found anyone special, yet… And I doubt I will for a long time.

As for the Tarot Cards, I used to believe I was trapped by choice when it came to a person I was in love with, but I wasn’t. In fact, I made a choice which now I live with, and I sometimes get the feeling of being trapped but at the end of each day it makes it worthwhile.

 

So I got bored..

The other, when I was doing… I don’t know…. stuff. I was bored, and I wrote a sort of introductory scene which came across very very innocent. For me, anyway. Now, it wasn’t difficult to write, nor has it been worked on as such. It was just something I wrote when I had a spare five minutes. Actually, it was something I wrote because I found it difficult to write anything that day. I hope you like it though it’s not finished.

 

The white wolf wondered all across Sweden; People witnessed him battling the snow giants in the furthest reaches of Norrland; And a few years later, he showed up in Skåne where he killed the King of Denmark, and protected Sverige from her enemies. He was known to live through four generations of men. Legends began to emerge about him knowing the secrets to immortality. They spun wicked tales of him tricking the God of gods, Odin, into gifting him a branch from Yggdrasil, the tree of life. They whispered tales of him having eyes capable of piercing the thickest of mists, and enough strength to rival Thor, and the guile to trick even Loki.

                Some spoke of how he would transform into a wolf when he fought in battle, and others spoke of him being much more than a wolf. They believed him to be a God, pretending to be mortal. Of course, these are just stories. Who was to say the white wolf was even a single man?

                Uppland, Sweden, there stood a village crafted by the wood of the forest that once lived there. Its people, soft. Some had already converted to the ever-growing faith, Christianity. The followers of the White-Christ were already digging their nails into our lands, and scraping at the territory of the Gods. When the white wolf returned, the mere utter of his name crippled the spines of the weak. And for those strong enough, or foolish enough to challenge him, they lived short lives.

                The inn was hearty, loud, and full of drunk old men singing songs of the old days. The voices travelled far enough to reach the nearby houses, as did the smell. Buckets of chicken piled up, and nothing but bones left. The smell of dirty ale, honeyed-mead, and piss flooded the vicinity. The door swung open, and silence befell the room. The man who pushed through hid his face with a cloak crafted from the pelt of a white wolf. The hood still had the head of the wolf attached. Rowdy old men stopped, and looked down. The man who walked in had blood staining his cloak. He walked towards the bar and took a seat. In a coarse, yet young sounding voice, “It’s done, I’ve handed the evidence to your wife outside. Where’s my money?” he said. The man standing behind the wooden counter approached him, and handed him a horn of ale.

                “All twelve of them?” the bartender kept his eyes on him, “Ale?”

                The man rejected, and raise his hand, spreading out his fingers. “Ah, one of those days, Thomas?” The bartender reached for a green glass bottle behind him, “I’ve still got the spirit you gave me last time you came through. From Francia, wasn’t it?”

                Thomas nodded, “Yeah, I took a bottle from my father’s. He got around, didn’t he?”

                Thomas received a smile from the barman, “O’ yeah, I remember. Trinson was one of the good ones, wasn’t he?”

                “I guess. Can’t fault his taste in alcohol, at least.” Thomas looked down. “Sten, I won’t be doing another job after today…”

                Sten’s eyes widened, and after putting the sack of coin on the counter he folder his arms, and brushed his hand through his balding grey head of hair. People began talking again in the bar, and Sten leant in, “But why? You’ve done so many for us now, you’ve protected our people from so many bandits, brigands, and crusaders now… Why now?”

                “I just…” Thomas sighed. He took his hood off and clenched the bottle. He put the bottle to his lips, “Something has happened, and I need to return home.”

                Sten’s face said it all, but before any more questions could be thrown at Thomas, the inn-door opened. Everyone looked with gawking eyes. Sten muttered, “A woman? At this time of the day?”

                A woman approached the bar with raven-black hair, crystal blue eyes, a curvaceous figure, and was dressed in a pair of leather trousers, and a hide shirt. Even though she was dressed like a man she was looked at as if she was a goddess. She looked like she had walked through a war, and survived.

                “Why is she dressed like a man?” Sten asked.

                Thomas sighed, “She demanded it be so. She didn’t want to ruin her dress.”

                “I see,” Sten smiled, “this is the thing that came up, then?”

                Thomas nodded. She stood behind him, straightened back, and an infinite amount of courage. She had to have it to enter a place full of drunk men in the middle of the day. The laces around her shirt tightened her bust. She waited a moment behind Thomas. The people in the inn were whispering, “Is she insane? That’s the white wolf… how could she approach a man like that? He’ll kill her!”

                Her face grew fierce, and her tongue full of attitude, “Thomas!”

                Thomas kept the bottle in his hand, and stood up to face her, “Yea— “How dare you leave me on my own!?” she interrupted.

 

So, that’s it. I hoped you enjoy.

I’ve now got to write a 3,00 word story on something not so innocent to accompany the poem I wrote.

 

When the Welsh stop moaning

Being Welsh, I’ve never understood why people look down on us so much. They want to be our friend, but don’t consider us in competition with them. Whether it be in technology, economy, or any aspect of societal advancement. We, kinda suck.

I don’t mean to bring out the worst of the Welsh, but even after speaking with a Welsh Nationalist they had ideas of what would make Wales better, but not what already made Wales good. Except for Welsh cakes. Those will forever be the pride of my food when it comes to Wales.

To further enhance this obviously deep thought on how Wales sucks, I’d like to add that the majority of Wales are left over mining towns from an age we’ve past a good sixty years before. And whenever someone comes along to offer us change, a way of getting past it and moving forward… A large quantity of moaners moan. I mean… um… why?

I come from a lovely… I really mean rather infamous part of Wales; known for being rough around the edges, and distinguished as a bit of a thieves den, almost. That being said, besides its reputation, not much about the city of ‘Newport’ is actually that bad. There are several supermarkets within walking distance, an industrial centre with a cinema, and several restaurants, and now ‘friars’ walk, spelled with a lower case f? Anyway, it has a a doughnut shop. So, clearly, it is the bomb. Figuratively speaking, of course.

It had another cinema added and had a couple hundred new buildings placed around town…

Now, so many Welsh complain about the new places, new community buildings, bus stops, bus stations, office buildings and apartment blocks… But it is so much better than what it was before. And, if I could say anything about Welsh people, including myself, is that we’re all stuck in the past.

It is like we want the bad conditions and over-populated houses back; seeing as we’ve complained since.

I don’t know what it is, whether it’s the fact that we still don’t feel we have a say in anything our country does as it is all run through England’s parliament (mainly. Aside from an ‘assembly’) but, what is is that bothers me so much about the modern Welshman?

I think it’s the fact that we moan, and moan, and moan, about everything around us, and then deny the change, declaring our anger for the change.

Well, that’s why the towns in the surrounding areas never become cities, and villages never become more than an earlier urbanization… because we moan when we, the people get offered more.

It’s sad, really. As I’ve seen towns get offered cinemas, large supermarkets… which believe me… some places in the valleys need… but the people in the area decline it. The supermarkets will ruin the mining town? Who the fuck wants to be known as the miners who don’t mine anymore? The houses are damp, falling apart and were never made for long term investment. There really is little point in keeping the damn things.

But surely, the statues, and memories will stay as a reminder of who we once were, in libraries, community buildings, or town halls… or even place it in the lobby of that new cinema you rejected.

I don’t understand the reason for wanting a reminder of places which gave all our grandparents lung cancer or some form of long term crippling diseases from working under-ground without safety equipment.

That being said, I know I’m sounding like a moaning Welsh person… which is funny, because I welcome the changes coming to Wales, the towns and cities alike, and that’s something we need to work on. It’s hilarious seeing people who want to devolve from England… without any form of plan, but still stand in pride without any idea of what the hell they’re doing.

‘When you have  cake, you eat it. You don’t keep the crumbs.’ – That’s a little quote from me.

You’d think after 1,500 years of failing at everything we do, the Welsh would be innovative. Not choose to stay little more than a primitive people.

 

And that’s the thing. If we stopped moaning about things, and stopped staying in the past we could use it to our advantage, and further our goals, and achievements. We could improve the cities so people want to come to us for careers not flee in fear of being trapped in the marshlands of Wales.

Think about it.

Days like this I feel alien

I’m sitting here with bloodshot eyes, and swollen glands. I’ve been shivering all day, and my body is aching. My muscles feel like they’ve done a hundred miles worth of running, and when I stand up I shake to the point where I have to catch myself.

I’d like to pretend I never get ill, but on the odd occasion, and once in a blue moon I feel human by going through this shoddy mess. As much as I’m unhappy with my weight, and mood sky-rockets every few days, and sinks in between I love my body, and my mind. It surely acts as my opponent.

Lying on my sofa, watching the ceiling change colour as I shiver was an event, indeed. And though I managed to take my daughter to nursery and stumble home, I was met by frequent shocks of pain, like lightning in my brain. It was interesting though; it gave me some ideas.

Funny how we work, isn’t it?

I had images of where I need to take my book in order to complete it, and how to improve on it. Who knew, right?

As well as that it gave me some clarity on what I needed to do in order to better approach life. By doing simple things like stop seeking others’ approval. I need to start seeking the approval of myself. Seeing myself today, it was like I was on the outside of my body looking in at a helpless person avoiding the idea of seeking help, or mentioning it, except for a joke over text to a few strangers…

The reason I say the word strangers is because I haven’t quite had the liberty of having a decent conversation with anyone for the longest of times, and I mean… one where you feel the connection between two people. In all honestly, I feel out-of-bounds with the whole thing. I do miss certain people in my life and think about them when I get like this, but at the same time I think that it is better they are in my past.

Other times, you kinda realise how distant you are to people you were only recently so close to, and as much as it is a little heart-breaking, I think everything moves in the way it does to help us steady ourselves, prepare ourselves, and improve ourselves.

And that’s just what I want to do.

So, this weekend I’m going to pour what is left of my concentration into fixing this flu or cold or whatever the damn thing is, and then working on the rest of the projects I have to do for university this year. I’m very disappointed with myself in one of my modules as I really screwed it up. I hope I get to resit them in the summer.

When my projects are done in April, and everything is out of the way, I’ve decided I’ll read everything I couldn’t read this year, and then get ahead of the game by buying all the books for next year, and reading them over the summer. I’ll be studying in order to improve my grammar… And, I’ll be starting the gym! Time to get fit, I suppose! Ha-ha. To top it all off, I’ll be putting a scary amount of hours into working on my novel.

I’m so gutted that I missed my friend’s party tonight, so I hope she reads this and knows I am so sorry I couldn’t go…

But hey, onwards and upwards.

I can do poetry

So, I wrote this poem in half an hour…

It probably won’t get better, but here:

What once was ours, is now lost

My hands are bloody, my cloak still warm,
My bones are ruined; my clothes are torn.
My mind is muddled, my friends will mourn,
My life is ending, from sailing the storm.
 
My soul is drifting from pillar to post,
And my heart is crying, for a dear old ghost.
I still remember the loving embrace
Of an angel, with a pale face.
 
And so I ask, don’t shatter this glass,
I look at you, eyes shining, at last.
You remind me of days when I was another,
Fit, strong, happy, your lover.
 
And though I’ll remember, what I have done,
I need to tell you my feelings, my lonesome hum.
I could not save you, not even our son.
But one day I’ll change, I’ll show them, we won.
 
I’ll now let you rest, and relieve you of shame,
I’ll drown them in sanguine, bring them pain.
I have one trick left, my darkest endeavour,
Even he, will see me as clever.

Keep movin’ forward

Pain is temporary, it may last a minute, or an hour, or a day but eventually it will subside, and something else will take its place. If we quit however, it will last forever.

I failed a project and a test in my grammar module over the past three weeks. I passed the first two tests, but failed the third, and my project. I don’t understand, I thought I did everything that they asked but clearly not.

It really stung me today, finding that out. However, I learn something about myself each and every time I fail.

That when I fail, I get back up again, and try harder. And that this is exactly what I needed, as I have motivation to continue. I’ve felt demotivated for a while now. This entire term in fact. Well… I’ve had enough.

I may not be the smartest person, or the most grammatical, or even the one who pours the most effort in.

But, I’ve hoped for something to push me as much as I push it and I received that, so now, today… I will push harder. Even if I have to sit my exams over summer, I will come back and beat the damn tests and projects with an iron fist.

“Skill is only developed by hours upon hours of beating on your craft”. Now, I’m listening to words like this and I’m done trying to make an effort for other people, and I’m done trying to be the central piece holding others together.

No one will hold me up, stand me up, and I’ve done everything I can for others who have turned their back on me as soon as they made new friends. So, it’s time I take off my gloves, and stop withdrawing myself from my study, and hiding in my games.

A wake up call was necessary for me to feel like I need to try harder, and I will do… just that.

Just a bit of hail

So, I’m writing a post in the morning. Not unusual for me. I feel clear in the morning, when the library is empty, and only a few early risers are setting up their laptops. I feel that it brings out the best in me. But who knows, I usually get good ideas hanging upside down like a bat, but I can’t exactly spend all day doing that. (I don’t, really. It’s true) Ha-ha.

I lost my umbrella this morning. My daughter and I were walking over a train bridge and it come out of the handle and shot high up… high enough to peer over a house or two, and it floated away. I had no chance to catch up to it or grab it. I couldn’t even run after it as I couldn’t leave my daughter. I just had to gulp down my pride and walk on. (Sorry for whoever comes across it.) Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. All I was left with was the handle of an umbrella in my hand. The rest was just… gone.

It’s been rather an interesting couple of weeks. I have seen the back of a toilet shoot water up to the ceiling, and had my heating turn on in the night when I had manually switched the boiler off. I’ve had a surprisingly high amount of crazy dreams. One which I pee’d for what seemed like hours… It was horrifying. Ha-ha for a mundane dream it was pretty horrible. Luckily enough I didn’t wake up to a wet bed. I’m not that old, yet.

Other than my crazy ‘mad’ house… I’m doing better than I was in January, or February. I know it’s only the 2nd, but things are improving, I think. I planned a holiday for the end of June, and my daughter and I are going to go to Sweden for a week. It will be nerve-wrecking, and a little scary but fun!

It’s been nice talking to my friend from Sweden again, as well. I’ve missed her. And she’s been putting up with me on skype while I’ve been playing games. I think that means she’s a keeper, ha-ha. She’s been a god-send over the last week or two, and has managed to cheer me up every time we talk. Though, I haven’t told her that bit yet. We dated once, almost 3 years ago… can you imagine? We’ve been in touch all this time, even though we weren’t able to pursue something romantically back then. I think things will become easier, or rather more in my own control once I’ve finished education.

The thing I will say is that I’m becoming comfortable with myself again, and after a few knocks to the confidence I’ve recovered… I think. (You never know when it comes to me.) I have found out that I lack much of the intonation in my voice to give an easily noticed question/sarcastic response. As much as this is a bit of a shit thing to get… it means I’m starting to understand why people sometimes feel uncomfortable around me, and I give people the wrong impression. Though, if I can notice and understand why that happens, hopefully I can work on it so I don’t upset people by accident, ha-ha!

Other than work/friends I’ve restarted my dystopia travels, in the world of Ark:Survival evolved. I’m not playing as much as I was, but I’m enjoying it, again. We’re on a new server, and we met another tribe who we allied with. His words for allying were, “I don’t meet many Brits here, so let’s team up and take these fuckers on” and when we allied, he announced, “That’s mustard.” haha. I have never heard the idomatic expression “That’s mustard’ or, “It’s all mustard” before. It made me laugh, and made my phonology lecturer laugh just the same. The guy is a Londoner, and roams the world of dinosaurs on a raft with a stone house on top of it. Ha-ha.

Whereas, I just spend most of my time flying around on a pteranadon. Here’s a picture:346110_screenshots_2016-02-29_00001.jpgI know, we’re gonna take over this are and make our own base. Will be fun, I think… I hope.

Anyway, back to reality. I’ve got a few more projects left this year, and then onto preparation for year two. As well as that, I’m going to be throwing many blogs together over the summer about character creation, scene selection and possible crying over the fact that I have to write another 46 character bibles before writing the actual novel.

 

Enjoy your day everyone,

It’s mustard.

The enemy of oneself I

I’ve never considered someone an enemy, nor have I ever felt the need to go out of my way to be wrathful, or vengeful towards someone who has wronged me. I’ve never felt enough anger to let it take over me enough to do something horrible to someone. I’ve never fought a fight where I was accused of something I did not do. I’ve not hurt anyone intentionally for as long as I can remember. The last time, and the only person who has ever made me feel anger, true anger. Not annoyance, irritation or the feeling of pain/sadness is the big EX of my life.

And that, was after a paramount of verbal abuse, betrayal and physical abuse. Though, I remember when it happened, like the time I snapped. And even that inner monster we all have inside our heads didn’t react physically. I just gave a look that scared her. I remember it so vividly, and I couldn’t understand it. It was the moment that I made a decision to meditate to try and understand myself better. Why would a look scare someone so much they left the house, and ran as if I was the horrible person there? I was the one being attacked both physically and verbally everyday. I suppose I could understand it. But from her words, she said that my eyes had changed.

It was almost like feeling beside yourself, and you were outside, looking in.

It was a horrible feeling, and it made me feel a little disgusted with myself. Not that someone made me sad, or made me angry, or even that someone did all those things to me. It was the fact that I felt like a part of myself took over that shouldn’t have. It was wrong. After that I spent the better part of two years meditating every night and trying to figure out what happened.

The outcome of all that spiritual learning, or whatever it was, was that I don’t feel anger, at all. I just don’t get angry. I don’t know what happened, and can’t really explain it but I just… don’t. After calming down I guess I figured out my limit, and no one comes close to hitting that limit. Sure, I get annoyed, scared, or upset. But I never, ever get angry with anyone.

It is interesting and ever since then I’ve been interested in a theory that whatever emotion we lock away eventually gets strong enough to fight us for control, almost like it becomes so different from us, it’s like a separate consciousness. I think this goes for anyone who comes to a point in their life where they feel that it barters the idea of facing a crucible. My crucible – was myself. And, before that day I had ran from it.

And today, even now, I still hate myself for ever letting myself be pushed to that point where I feel uncomfortable with the thoughts that I had, but I’m glad I never let it win. I get down from time to time and think about things, but what occured to me last night is the fact that I’m not bothered by the fact that people don’t want to spend time with me, and after seeing a quote by someone writing, “Those who look for someone to love hate themselves” I feel like I found my answer. It’s not the fact that I’m angry with other people, or upset about how I’m treated or any of that. It’s the fact that I’m angry with myself for not being the person I want to be and always thinking about what others would think.