Tag Archives: dancing

I can’t wait!

I step in time

With the dancing mime

Lost in a mirror

Lost in rhyme

Trapped within myself

Hung upon a shelf

Teased by the light

It’s their delight

Broken like a china doll

I cry and cry alone

Nobody to love me

Nobody is home

All I ever wanted

My dream is quite pure

Is to have a love

That will endure

That’s all I’ve ever wanted

That’s all I want for me

But pushed aside forgotten

Is all that came to me

I would gladly throw away

All my songs and rhymes

All my stories and my freedom

For those better times

But locked in sadness I’m alone

And trapped in time I cry

Is it any wonder

I can’t wait till I die?

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Queen of Winter

Skipping bare foot in the snow, dancing and laughing is the crystal fairy of winter’s chill

Tapping frost onto cobwebs and lacing the ground white with each step, over mountain and over hill

Icicles worn like gems decorate her silver neck and frosted leaves make her shining dress

A gown fit to impress, the faeries at the Yuletide ball

She will be much loved within the dance-hall of Oberon and Titania

Bringing a dancing mania to one and to all

An ice dance supreme, like a tremendous dream as she decorates streams of icy walls

For she is The Queen of Winter and she will stand tall!

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Ten skills I want

Top 10 things I want to be confident in or train in eventually;

Tango dancing (in fact I have always wanted to do this and have a partner who likes it too, but never mind)

Paso Doble dancing (same as above)

Belly Dancing (did in the past but was never confident in it and need to loosen up again for it)

Playing the piano properly (one handed and by ear only player at the moment)

Reading and understanding musical notation

Tarot reading (yes been doing it most my life but not confident enough to leave the books alone)

Yoga (never tried it but before weight gain, I was a very flexible contortionist)

I want to be confidently fluent in Italian (at the moment I am on unit 16 of the course on Duo Lingo)

I also want to get back into some kind of combat fitness

Improving my ventriloquism skills – I can kind of do pretty well at the moment, but I want to be much better! I don’t like proper ventriloquist dummies though, they freak me out – I like puppets!

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Guinea pig tango

Abstract thought of the day, guinea pigs singing and dancing to “Sway” by Frank Sinatra!

I have had this image in my head for a few days in actuality – guinea pigs partying it up to that song, dancing the tango and singing “when we sway I go WHEEK!  Yeah, I know, Paul has already expressed concerns for my mental health!

But that’s what happens when you live a life of solitary boredom!

Thanks for reading…

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Fool myself

Sleep deprived and hungry

I hold back the tears

I dream of fantasies and it takes away my fears

I see a rainbow in my head and I chase it down

Because I am hiding from myself and my own frown

Maybe here I can hide and pretend I am really happy

Dancing with the pixies like everything is sweet and sappy

Maybe I can fool myself till it is true

Maybe I can dance away all these blues

I sing good luck to myself

Hang my sadness up on the shelf

And make believe that it’s OK

And skip around and play all day!

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Pierrot the paint thrower

Today’s abstract thoughts took me to these places;

I was imagining my favourite movie soundtrack “Good Omens” and in my imagination I was proficient in playing this tune on a recorder, I was sitting on the top step of a step ladder, watching a cute guy who walked a bit like Charlie Chaplin painting an abstract picture of a candy world.

He was enjoying the music I was playing and every so often he would call out a colour and I would throw it into the general direction of the canvas and he would be happy!

“Pink” he shouted and I threw the bucket of pink paint at the canvas and he wiped it down on the canvas making lovely pink foliage for the flanks of the picture and I continued playing the recorder, getting off the steps slowly and gracefully whilst doing a solo waltz around the artist.

He then shouts “white” and I dip a large paintbrush into the pot of white paint and playfully throw my left arm out to the sides splashing the artwork all in seemingly perfect choreography – again he looked happy and continued painting in the clouds.

A little white dog, a Jack Russell terrier to be precise, came and sat next to me dancing with my recorder, still playing The Good Omens tune. 

I noticed in this vision I was a sky blue and pink Pierrot style clown and the little white dog had a silver and pink ruff around him, instead of a collar.

I was soon interrupted in my imaginings by Paul, who said it was time to get Henry to bed!

But these are the things that I imagine but are never put to use in a novel or story or anything, such a shame as I love sharing my thoughts with anybody who is willing to listen! 

Thanks for reading!

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Black scarf

Balconies and black scarfs

A party behind closed doors

Laughter and dancing

Merriment fills us to the core

Red lips and biting

Our game is bittersweet

Promises of eternity make us both complete

Golden gowned you saw me

Shining bright and true

Because you knew when you saw me

I am just like you

No scarf to hide my commitment

I am not ashamed of you

We’ll be together I know it

Until our lives are through

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Vanity & suppression

I have been thinking about the YouTube channel I am going to set up after Christmas a lot, I have been trying to think about what it should be mostly about.  People like themes, they don’t like random people no matter how authentic they are, or do they?

I mean, I like a lot of stuff and I would like to do a lot of stuff – I don’t want to be bored with the same old same old, you know?

I want to sometimes read out my poetry to people, I want to share gardening tips and recipes and my journey through weight loss and other things.  I don’t want to just be a gardening vlog, or a beauty and fitness vlog or a writing vlog.  I want to do the whole caboodle, now people say, sure you can do this but have multiple channels, but I don’t really want to do that.

If I had multiple channels, then I will need to film and edit every day for a once a week post on each and that is taking up more time than I want to do.

Plus I am none too thrilled about the editing process, I hate doing anything technical for too long.

One of my biggest desires in having a YouTube channel is to visibly show people my weight loss, fitness progresses.  But contrary to that there are two things I hate about it… the fame this could give me and the fact I have to show my fat ugly body and face on the camera, or else, what am I showing?

I’m paranoid enough without being famous!

Seriously, you have no idea how paranoid I am when a stranger points and looks like they are talking about me.  I mean… I can’t cope now, let alone when I know they know me… you know… at least right now I can put it down to me being a schizoid, of course they aren’t really pointing at me…. Until they then call me fat ass to my face and I am like… ok I guess they were then, rude!

I keep my mouth shut to people who shout that at me, primarily because I want to live.  But inside I want to shout out “Like your lip will be if you carry on mate”!

If people knew the attitude that goes on inside my head, I would have been murdered years ago!

I don’t like the idea of going out dressed up in a headscarf and huge sunglasses and learning to turn my head away from anyone as I walk past them like some super international spy!   

I just want to dawdle down the street in my scruffs on a lazy day, walking a dog, without it being splashed on the papers “TC bad hair day” or “TC midlife crisis” you know.

But then again, there are days where the attention whore comes out and it’s like “for goodness sake notice me, notice me, stop ignoring me, why am I being ignored when I have just walked down the street looking like a bowl of fruit”?

Thing is, I do like attention if I have to be honest with you.  But the problem is, on my terms and the world doesn’t work like that!

Fame scares me because of the stupid lengths some journalists will go to for a good pic and a front page position in their newspaper; it’s disgusting what some people will do to advance themselves.

When I was little I was famous for a few months in North London as being a pageant queen stripped of her rightful prize because of nepotism in the judging panel.  I remember someone taking me by the hand to pull me away from my mum so they got a perfect shot of me, The Angel of Burnt Oak!

That scared me, let alone the incidences with a couple of my more famous relatives.

The universe has wanted me to be famous for a long time, but I have always fought it.  My grandmother and some of the Romany relatives we have often sat down having fortune telling annuals for the family and from the age of seven they have all been convinced I will be a huge name in the world someday; though they said I will be late in getting that name.  I will be in my early forties.

They suggested even back then, that I am destined for greatness, I will find greatness myself, but I will find someone equally great to spend my life with.  They warned me I would have a child with a man but then I would leave him to start a second family quite late in life. 

Though I would start all this late in life, my legacy would be huge and I would be like Shakespeare or Charles Dickens in how long my fame will last.

Vanity, I know – I know its vanity and I would hold my hands up and say, you think I am bad for this now?  You should have seen me when I was thinner and I felt prettier than I do now, then you’d know how vain I really can be!

I even have a playlist called “Vanity” where you will find songs on it such as “keep young and beautiful” by Annie Lennox, “You’re never fully dressed without a smile” by the musical Annie and “beautiful and dirty rich” by Lady Gaga!.

So yes vanity has always been part of what I call “my true” personality, but it has been badly abused and supressed over the years.  Make no mistake, I don’t think I am beautiful, but I do know there’s a lot of people who said I am and although I don’t believe them, I take their word for it; as the world isn’t generally nice about that sort of thing, unless it’s true and I know a lot of beautiful people who hate themselves too.

I used to obsess over my looks a lot because I can’t stand it when another woman notices; you forgot to do your eyebrows today, omg you have no lip liner, just lipstick? 

I can’t afford to be vain anymore; I don’t have the budget for it.  But when I got sick in 2014 I totally let myself go because my illness made me bedbound and for a while we thought I had some type of cancer, but it wasn’t. 

I also thought, nobody is interested in me with a child and I am approaching forty, why bother?  Especially with my baggage. 

But I have been doing a lot of inner child therapies lately and its waking the true me up again – I love it, but I also hate the idea of people seeing my changes and thinking I am trying too hard to impress others or that I am being pretentious, when in fact I am actually becoming my more authentic and very supressed self! 

As a child, before my mother started to peel me apart from the age of 7yrs I used to love standing in front of people performing for them, singing, acting, dancing, showing off and being my beautiful self in such cocky little way!  This I believe is one of the reasons behind why my grandad called me “cocker” because I was cocky before my mother got her nails into me!

It’s funny but I started to get fat around the time mum started to hate me and supress me, before that, when I had her love and support, I was blooming marvellous and hadn’t a care in the world, I could move mountains with my confidence. 

She insisted she needed to hold me down though, or I was going to the devil, she especially freaked out when I got the notion of burlesque – a thing I saw on TV thanks to my grandad and uncle watching it and predicting that will be me when I am older, mark their words! 

My grandma said if I turn out like that, I’d definitely be following her mother’s footsteps as she was a cancan dancer and burlesque performer!  Imagine that, my great grandma a cancan performer! 

As a child my biggest career dream was to be a fashion designer but my mother worked like a woodpecker on my confidence when she found this out and wouldn’t encourage anything that might be connected to fashion and destroyed my sense of self love as much as possible to get this stupid dream out of my head.

Yet, ironically, it was she who’d force me into the pageants until I became embarrassingly fat for her and she told me she was ashamed to be seen in public with me because of it.

So yes, given the right environment, the right sense of self, I am a vain creature and attention whore to boot and my mother did everything possible to knock me off the pedestal I was on, because she felt the way I was going my life would be filled with sin if she didn’t act cruel to be kind.

But I have tried hard not to be vain, narcissistic or to reach too high – because I can’t stand the reactions from people like my mother who are vitriolic and jealous or greedy to try and do something to you to either destroy you or make entertainment out of you.

I have to say it has been a battle that’s been with me my whole life.  I want to be this great person that everyone admires and to be beautiful and loved, but I also don’t want the evil that comes with it.  You know?

I am on a weight loss journey, so I can be whoever I want to be unashamedly and with a little extra confidence – I will never have oodles of confidence, but I am going to fake it until I make it and I want to be a butterfly or better yet, a peacock!

As I’ve said before, I have had to learn to do everything on an emotional level alone – no support – no friends, nada.

It’s scary to think of what I could be if I am still alone, you know?  I need security, I mean emotional security.  Yeah sure, physical security, physical assistance is in abundance in the world, but it’s the emotional security that really counts.

I’ve never been taught to cope with grief or have my grief acknowledged by anyone.  I was always made to feel bad and selfish when I was sad and grieving a loss.

Told I am a stupid girl who needs to snap out of it, snap out of the idea my grandpa has just died, the same grandpa who I lived with for the last 3 months of his life as he died of cancer right before my eyes!

10yrs old and all I got was a pat on the head from my dad, nothing else from anyone else, when grandpa died, when I was still tearful after three days, people became aggressive with me – get over it you stupid girl stop going on trying to get attention for yourself!

All I wanted was a cuddle, some kind words, but being raised by adults who are all self-absorbed, obviously they don’t think about anyone but themselves.  They might have been a close family in that we had a massive family extended for five or even six generations that still maintained contact, but they were not supportive of each other.  They were not the kind of family that pulled together to grieve and help each other, they all go off into their own small groups or by themselves and the children usually end up forgotten.

When raised by people like this, is it any wonder then, why I cry when a stranger shows me kindness and goes out of their way to be nice to me and sympathetic?

Because I am genuinely not used to being treated with any kind of humanity!

I was raised like a thing, not a person.

I remember when I was in therapy groups as a teenager, I remember joking with my peers about how I wasn’t raised I was dragged up and spat out, reeled in and clout, clout, clout.

My peers though knowing it to be tragic laughed, the therapists cried and some refused to treat me as my case was so specifically hard, they needed a lot of mental time off from work, as hearing what I went through, broke them.

It happened to a lot of therapists, I often had them in tears when I recalled my normal daily life and they’d have to end sessions early.  I tried my best actually to hold back a lot because I needed the therapy, but some of them insisted I didn’t – my mother did.

I remember one therapist in particular was so aggrieved by what I went through, she broke all protocol just to give me a long, long tight hug as she cried and she told me, she so desperately wants to get me away from my parents and adopt me.  Then she came to her senses and she couldn’t be in therapy with me alone anymore, she had to have a colleague with her to maintain a professional standard.  This woman worked tirelessly to try and have me removed from custody of my parents, but she failed.

I was weirdly happy with quite a bit of my childhood until I realised that my parents weren’t normal, after seeing so many professionals break like that.  I really thought it was normal that at 7am you’re kicked out into the garden until lunch time, made to entertain yourself when you’re not at school with only a dog and a rabbit as company or the elderly neighbours talking to you over a fence.

At 12:15pm daddy comes home for lunch, perfectly normal to cook for him and yourself, eat your lunch and get out into the garden by 12:45 again until you’re called in for dinner at 4pm same routine, mums working night shift, you got to cook for everyone – then outside again until 7pm.

I thought it was perfectly normal to only bath once a week and nothing else and that in the summer your bath became the kids paddling pool, but with soap!

Of course it’s not, I know that now, but back then, it’s normal life!

I remember my mum when I was of legal age to drink getting excited that I was of age to become her drinking partner at nightclubs, but I was terrified of going to places like that and refused to go.  She was disappointed, but still tried to have drinking nights in with a slap up meal with her mates and tried to make me drink alcohol with her – “here love, drink more of this, you are more human after you’ve got a drink down you, you’re so tight otherwise… go on have another and another”.

She nearly poisoned me one night when I gave in to every temptation.  I got so ill I nearly needed the hospital, the hallucinations were really, really bad – she said it was only alcohol, but I never really knew.

Dad was furious.

I still went with mum to her mates, but I started to insist control in my drinks and never trusted anything given to me after that – I wanted to know my orange was just orange and not some exotic new type that mysteriously contained vodka or gin that they didn’t tell me about.

I am not tight; I will drink, but not enough to get drunk.

So yeah, all sorts of things could end up on my vlog, but I won’t make it a sympathise with me vlog.  It will all be upbeat or informative, nothing dull, nothing depressing; it will be my happy place.

I was thinking about being 100% authentic on there, no matter how tragic it is.  Doing all sorts of things, whether I get laughed at or not, because no doubt I will because I am cheeky – I am self-deprecating and I do stupid things, I am accident prone, I am just not graceful and clueless… it will be hilarious. 

I mean the other day, I was putting on something really tight and I struggled and I was hopping around the room like a Chinese vampire, trying to heave these darn pants on and I fell ass over tit on my face!

Don’t be surprised if that happens in the vlogs if I am brave enough to show my face!

Henry forgot his password to his Roblox game review channel he had, where I’d comment from time to time funny little quips now and again, interrupting his shows and he said if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have had as many views – because a lot of people loved the mum stuff.

We thought at the time, Henry was a budding “Morgz” because he did a lot of stuff with his mum didn’t he?

Well this post is getting a bit long now, so I think I had better end it here, sorry about that, just so much on my mind tonight.

Thanks for reading!

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Beauty, dance, and gratefulness

A handful of friends have sent me DMs recently about my deadline.  I have to agree to take their advice and not push for it, because in the past two weeks in particular life here has been hard on me and I have found it difficult to focus on reading anything, let alone writing anything.

Henry is has recently had an emergency assessment to test for autism because his behaviour is worsening at school, at the moment they decline to say much about their findings because they feel they need to do another one or two assessments on him before they are sure.

Along with this, as you all are probably aware of, Paul and I are separating; which is a surprise really, because around 2015 we more or less decided to stick with each other, despite our relationship only meaning to be temporary.

We don’t know when we will decide to live apart as I have discussed recently, but it is on the cards.

Along with this I am trying my hardest to get into shape and lose weight, so I have more confidence in myself when I start a new relationship.

I really wanted to debut a book by summer, which is why I wanted to approach an agent on the 21st October, however, I have too much going on right now to do it and along with it all, the idea of YouTube may also be a failing start for January too; because my future is very uncertain right now.

I am also very confused by people behaviours online recently.  Since alerting my readers of my separation with Paul, I have been getting a lot of attention in DMs.  I suppose it’s not so confusing as I have more or less announced my availability, but what is confusing is the dominance some people are portraying in their emails to me from the off-set.  Like whom do they think they are?

It started with the email from a well-known author to Paul, I won’t mention names, but he is pretty big as far as authors go.  According to Paul this author had asked him outright whether or not we genuinely are in an open relationship and if it is OK for him to approach me for a relationship someday?  Paul said of course.

Though this author has not approached me in any other way other than being a sort of friendly online acquaintance, I felt it was cheeky to do that and especially behind my back!

He has a blue tick on twitter, so it’s the genuine article, but he is not the only person who has approached this recently with me. 

Unfortunately I feel some pressure by this person to finish my AD project in particular as they believe they’ve cottoned on to my plot with my hints and has got inspired to make something very similar if I am not quick enough; unfortunately, they’ve kind of guessed correctly what my story might be. or so, Paul has told me someone who is associated with this author has told him.

I don’t know whether or not Paul is just rocking the boat telling me these things, because he was initially afraid of losing me, but more recently he has found a new lady himself and doesn’t seem to think that what he told me in the past is anything to worry about, now.

I really don’t like cloak and daggers and underhanded stuff and I am getting rather uncomfortable with it all.

But if what Paul has said is true, then this author will be starting the idea around March apparently, which is why I feel the pressure to write this quickly, because its a series.

For now, all I want to do is focus on is my fitness, trimming down and getting my head together, whilst still trying to write a tiny bit per day towards any current project.  Maybe read a book once a fortnight, the reading has slowed down immensely.

But I am trying to find my true self. 

My true self, since a very young child – kindergarten almost, has always had a massive love for fashion and glamour.  For short bursts throughout my life, I have tried to get into it all big time – but there was always someone getting in my way and stopping me, usually my mother.

My mother is out of my life right now, so I feel free to be as vain and beautiful as I want, in the manner I want.

I loved the book “Matilda” by Roald Dahl as a child and in there is a quote where they say that there are two types of women in the world those that choose looks and those that chose books. 

Most of my life I chose books, purely as a means of escapism.  Had I have had a more stable life I would be more focused on looks and entertainment of other kinds, such as singing or acting.

All I know is that I am a huge daydreamer. 

I can’t help but think of great stories all of the time, often at the drop of a hat – but I have little interest in making them books, I want them to be on the screen somehow.  It has always been my primary goal.

My idea of the best kind of entertainment is visual and audio.  I read a lot, yes, but mostly to learn, I don’t really read for the amusement of it – I am just knowledge hungry, that’s all.

I really don’t think I’d be as much of a gaming or science geek as I am today, had I have been raised primarily by say – my honorary auntie Sheila or my grandmother for example.

I know had I of been raised by my paternal grandmother she’d have made me go into the equestrian gymkhana groups and gymnastics and all sorts of things like that.  She’d have fully supported my sports goals in swimming and judo and would have pushed me into other things to socialise a lot with the better classes as she’d put it; Potentially making me become a singer or an actress along with it, because she often tried to encourage me to go with my aunts to their amateur theatres to be a part of their little comedies, but at the time I was bullied out of it by being fat shamed by my mum.

I really wanted more of the life my grandmother wanted for me, as it reflected what my dad wanted for me too, but mum never supported any of it.

All my life I have envied women in gymnastics in particular.

As an adult my grandmother learned I had a passion for watching dance shows and that I really wanted to learn to dance and she arranged for me to go to Ealing to become taught by a famous dancer called Anton Du Beke.  When my mum found out I was going to go to it, she gave me a nasty ultimatum, go to this school for dance or lose the internet.  At the time I had an Ebay business and I had a lot of online friends, so losing the internet was not an option for me, so she had got her way.

I have always wanted to learn to tango, especially with a life partner, because I have a lot of passion in me and I really would love a relationship like Morticia and Gomez Addams. 

It’s a goal I have still, once fit enough I will go to find a school for the tango.  Or if I become a published author and famous enough I’d practically beg “strictly come dancing” to let me be a celebrity contestant!

But ultimately, my stories should be on the screen and should also be merchandise as a lot of my ideas are not only horror, but mostly for the family entertainment industry.  Horror is lessening these days as I am thinking of more light-hearted fantasy stories.  Sure, project AD is a dystopian, but it has anthropomorphic characters, children and comedy in it, which lightens the mood immensely.

Even if I am only writing a paragraph per day at least it’s getting done.  But for now, I can’t do much more than that because there are a lot of explosive arguments going on about me, mostly between Henry and Paul but lately, Paul is starting to drain me with his noticeable irritations, because he feels as trapped as I do.

I am just in the way.  That is not something I want to feel when I am still quite emotionally vulnerable and could at any moment decide to seek out the medicine box.  I mean, other than Henry and a rabbit, what I have I got to live for?

Paul and Henry have already decided between themselves that Henry will stay with Paul not me, so I won’t even have Henry as an excuse to stay alive soon; Just the rabbit, and he is 5yrs old on his next birthday.  He is also the last birthday present I’ve ever received since we fell into poverty, that’s if I am not including the regular chocolate bars I’ve got between then and now.

Still, shouldn’t be ungrateful.

Happy reading!

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The Moon Dancing Witch

Shards of moonlight glimmer through the night forest canopy, silver lights my path towards the centre where the agaric grows and now at this midnight hour, I see them glowing.  I hear little titters of laughter around me, gently little folk enter the toadstool circle and surround me.  Smiling, cheerfully, welcoming me to their magic circle.

A young girl elf holds out her hand and greets me, smiles at her brother as she leads me to join hands and join in with the moon dance.

Merriment was made there that awesome night.

What a grand thing to be a witch.

 

 

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