Tag Archives: personality

Plotting vs planning & minimalism vs chaos

I am usually a plotter type writer and I do not like reading in first person and outside of poetry and my blog posts, I rarely write it.  Yet there is something going on in the throes of my imagination recently that I don’t quite understand.

The series I am working on here on my blog “Shadowlands” is not plotted; I have no idea what is going to happen from one week to the next in this story.  It is as much of a surprise to me as it is for you.  As soon as I have written each post, it is put here on the blog without redrafting – yes you are reading first drafts, I am sure you can tell? 

I am also astonished that I am writing this in first person; I usually hate reading stories that are written in first person.

I don’t know if this is a fantasy, a horror or a dark fantasy yet either.  I suspect horror.  But I can’t really say, for I do not know.

I don’t think about the series until I am ready to write more.  I am doing this to see if I can become a Pantzer – if I can and if this series turns out to become good and popular, I may try to pants my way through other stories in the future.

I have no idea what started this, but I have learned to live by impulse regarding all creative matters recently and not to try and make everything perfect like I usually do.  It doesn’t have to be perfect if you are having fun and you are creating something.  So far, it is a good rule to live by in my opinion.  I have started doing things in art, journaling and writing that I have never done before because I felt that there was a certain system and order you had to do things – systems and organisation are innovation killers.

I used to think it would be lovely to pour coffee over a crumpled piece of paper and stick it in a journal purely for aesthetic reasons with a few pretty buttons, ribbons and cut out vintage faeries – but then I thought, HOARDER ALERT!  Who’d think that was artistic?  But I recently discovering a whole host of people on YouTube who are junk journal creators and they are selling those very ideas I often secretly coveted for myself over the years.  I was surprised that most of my unique but ignored ideas were actually a cultural thing in certain bohemian creative circles and I then I became sad as I realised how much fun I have been missing out on in life.

I was raised by a scrupulous mother.  White walls, beige carpets, glass tables, clinical house stinking of bleach and spring cleaning happened monthly!  No room for cutting and pasting pretty things into makeshift little booklets and journals.  No room for saving buttons off the shirt you are throwing out and keeping cinema tickets as memorabilia, that is dirty hoarding, it’s not creative, it’s not nice and it is not art!  This is what I was raised to believe, this is what was brainwashed into my mind and I often dreamt of freedom.  I often dreamt of keeping all the pretty things, because most things I had growing up were often thrown away within less than a year – nothing lasted.  My mother was often proud of her “throw away” cultural ideologies.  She even bragged that she wasn’t the sentimental type too – often throwing away family photos of people who she had recently disowned and never saving anything just because of emotional value.

She tried to make me like her.  For a time it nearly worked, until I literally had the second nervous breakdown I ever had in my whole life.  She was making my home like hers, though a little more dowdy because she knew I liked natural colours.  So magnolia walls with brown carpets and curtains, she winced at my liking for oak furniture (the most sensible normal choice she could accept) and I hated it.

I felt my home was cold and uninviting and very old fashioned, it never represented my personality at all.  Not the true me anyway.

As soon as I decided I couldn’t take contact with her anymore, my house dramatically changed and it is slowly becoming a warm, fun and cosy place for me.

My living room side walls are green with wallpaper on the chimney wall that looks like trees from the Lorax.  My sofa cushions are a mix of all my favourite things, bees, marvel comics, quotes I love, kittens, rabbits and butterflies.  I have faeries and dragons lining the bookshelves as guards to the world of my imagination that are my favourite books. 

My window ledge is festooned with herbs and a lemon tree, which my mother would probably find dirty to have potted plants indoors like that.

It’s lovely and it is my home.

I know I am 39 on my next birthday, as things progress to how I want for my life, the more I am starting to believe that for me, life might really begin at forty as they say it does!

Let’s see!

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Filed under About my work

art, feminism and technology

Yesterday I decided to paint something that was emotionally lead and unplanned; the result was a horrible mess of gloomy colors around a shadow person bleeding from the upper thighs. When done, I reflected on my emotions and they took me to a place I wasn’t sure was a factor mentally. A place where I am screaming about feminism going too far, a place where I see lackluster mothers at the school gates waiting for their children to come out, only for them to act like they’re not home when they go, ignoring their children’s existence and having one child after another.

I was feeling strongly about this because I am a mother, I have a five year old little boy and I wanted so much to give him siblings, but due to ill health I was and still am unable to fulfil that. I come from a family where having lots of children is expected by and large (particularly on my father’s side), but also a family where fertility doesn’t last past 35 (on my mother’s side) and I am 32 right now and so far, I seem to have all the health problems of my maternal side of the family.

I crave to play with my child, go out with my child, have fun with my child, but due to sickness a lot of events I have to miss due to being bed bound. Unfortunately or blessedly in many cases, I have a child that is far too independent for his age, he is strong emotionally, he doesn’t need me as much as most five year olds need their mothers. He is unusually mature and above average intelligence academically. He would rather read quietly alone, listen to Lady Gaga music, play dress up, do painting, all alone. I offer to play with him regularly and his response literally is “No thank you, I want to play alone” or “Not now, I am listening to music”. I can’t even tempt him with treats, because he is unusually moderate for a child. You give him a whole bag of candies and he will never eat more than 12 small ones. Now you’re probably thinking he is a dream child and to many modern mothers he is, but to me, he is a nightmare come true in some respects. I wanted children, because I am a big kid, I am imaginative and naturally playful and I have to admit I am rather crestfallen at how serious my little one is turning out to be.

I see children running around screaming, playing tricks, wanting attention all the time; “mummy play with me”, “mummy hug me”, “mummy, mummy, mummy”. My little boy isn’t like that.

I am surprised he likes being alone at home and playing quietly because he is also naturally gregarious; he will super socialise with everyone outside of the house and will do things in large groups of friends, teachers at his school has said he is unusual for this. He is very caring and sharing, creative and fun with other children and even other adults outside of the house – but inside the house and with other relatives, he acts too adult for me.

I am not sure which personality is his natural one, the one when he is at home or the one when he is at school or going out with me.

I scream at feminism going too far because a lot of women these days are forced to be equal whether they like it or not, to the extent that women’s rights have taken rights away from the traditional women. Women have to work to support the bills even if they are married because of their financial difficulties. Therefore a lot of women have careers and in my opinion, hardly know their children because of it. Feminism and women’s right’s aren’t the only factor here though; the increasing dependence on technology is another problem. Women are known to be very social at the best of times with other women, therefore women are never away from their mobile phones or tablets or social media websites. Women are more dedicated to their relationships with other adults and their gadgets than they are with their children and what is worse, they are encouraging their children to have the same unhealthy relationship of being plugged-in to any type of computing device, just to get them out of mummy’s hair.

Feminism and technology together are slowly killing the mothering instinct. It has been proven through generational breeding various animals that after several generations of having their off-spring cared for by others, the mothering instinct dies and even if forced to rear their young the mothers usually have forgotten how; breastfeeding for example, is a skill lost to a majority of women these days because of the access to formula milk, so much so that breastfeeding has become a taboo in public and a taboo subject to discuss. How ridiculous the world is becoming! I truly believe this is a serious problem and I plan on writing a story about this soon.

Keep in tune.

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Filed under Art By Me

I’m a cocktail

I am a mix, a cocktail of habits and idiosyncrasies

I am a person

I am my self

An individual

I control what I like and what I do

I do them for me and not for you

I am a rainbow of surprises

And what you’ll know of me is what I gift to you

You may not see the whole picture

To survive one person has many masks

Do not trust those with few

Nothing is completely black and white

Everything and everyone is an array of color

An enmeshment of flavors

We are our chefs of life

Go forth, be yourself, in delight

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Filed under Poems G - I