It's the small things in life

Those little words of encouragement, they are behind that glint in our eyes.

Small favours, no problem. Means more to me than you'll ever know.

A text goodnight, sweet dreams my dear, it's the small things that matter.

When you fall asleep on the sofa, after a long day at work, your mum, your friend, pulls a blanket over you to keep you warm.

A nice cuppa tea waiting for you when you get back after a frantic phone call.

A cake, for me? On my birthday so far away from my family.

That extra long hug, it's just what you need.

Your mate tells that awful joke or pulls that stupid face. Every time. It gets under your skin, you erupt with joy..

laughter that makes you stomach full of pain. Stop! You cry, but it's not what you mean!

Laughing when it's awkward and in silence, that's the moment that makes you tingle with excitment.

Laying in the sun, the frosty snow or rain, with nothing ahead, no regrets but knowing your free.

Free to live, make decisions, fall in love, change religion, say no, say yes, live for whats now and whats to come.

Being 19 it's not so bad.

A head full of buttercups

Sitting in a field of yellow buttercups. I sprawl out my arms and lay back, the long grass tickling my neck. Eyes wide open staring into a dreamland, a sky so fresh, the air so clear. I smile as if all the warmth of the sun was coming from my face, breathing in second by second, wishing it would never end. A scent of unpolluted air, sweet and drowsy.

My hand is suddenly gripped by another, the soft flesh making me nervous and a reminder your here. I roll onto my side to see what connects that other hand. My smile deepens as I see your bright face. My face to touch is red hot, a gentle stroke and you put my hair behind my ear. I won't burn, I never do. No thanks. No need for suncream. I'm too cool.

A small glimpse of whats to come, a day where my mind is not deep in confusion. Instead, I'm blissfully ignorant, one step at a time, taking it all in. So much to breathe in. Too much beauty for one day. Then from nowhere, one pink flower says it all in an act of thievery.

Now I've said goodbye. Perhaps not to all the flowers in the field, but there will be time. I sit on my boat home, floating into land. Still I gaze at that sky and breathe in that sweet scent of pollen, only this time it's mixed with gritty fumes. All alone in my field of beauty tainted by petroleum, noise pollution and thoughts.

Thoughts once confused, no longer. A smile never lost, remains for now as I lay my head down upon a pillow of buttercups. Memories are what make a life, a life full of memories is one worth living. So lets start living.

Late night scrawls

Walking through the under pass, all I could think about was what had been. I knew I had to come back at some point, but not now. I wasn’t ready to face anyone, especially those things which I knew would take more strength than I was capable of presently. I was weak with luggage and tired with anticipation. My own bad decisions coincided with my own stupidity. Stepping out into the street, chills abruptly coming and going, the sun hit my face. My vision was momentarily blocked when I stumbled forward, my case in hand and a dozen other bags balanced on my arms.

I had begun to make my way ‘home’. I looked from left to right and then straight ahead, with everything so familiar yet my mind elsewhere. I crossed the street as a single tear splashed onto my hand, but I quickly brushed its remains from my face. This was the last place I wanted to be, especially all alone with a weight upon my shoulders. Someone rescue me? Please, someone take me away from here, and take me to my real home.

DMU Library

WHY does the library insist on being like a sauna?

Maybe it is the perfect remedy for sweating out all the alcohol from a night out..

00h my goodness it is SO flipping hawttt!

I can't understand how this is healthy or helpful for students?!

The road to a friend's house is never long

They say that friends come and go, but your family are for life. BUT, what if your family don’t stick around?

The friends you make in primary school, how many of them are you still close with? I think it is a rare occasion that you would have kept up a friendship all the way from primary school, unless it was without the help of family connections or good timing. Friends do tend to come and go through your life, but there are those people in your life that you hold on to. Those friends who make that difference enough in your life, those friends who care enough to go out of their way, the ones who put your needs above that date they had planned, they are worth your time.

These people listen to you, they know you, your loves and your hates. They see your imperfections and love you for them. Friends who know exactly how to embarrass you, who know what face to pull or joke to say, sometimes just a word and it puts a smile on your face. These friends are rare, they make the effort with you, even when you feeling like shutting the world out. And when this friend goes through tough times, it’s you they turn to because they know your one of those rare finds.

They believe in you, even when you’re making an awful decision. They are patient, with your lateness, your strops and relationship dramas. They know how to make you the perfect drink, tea, coffee, whatever it is you love. They tell you the blunt truth; you look like death, and I don’t think that guy is right for you, I saw her cheat on you, that dress looks too tight.

These friends don’t need a reason to give you a hug, to bring you your favourite food, or cook you dinner, to take you out for the day and turn up on your door unexpectedly. They do it because they love you, they would not want to be anywhere but sitting in front of a crummy movie eating ice cream, or down the pub having a pint with you. These friends need you as much as you need them; they would be as lost, without your all night sessions of playing computer games or a heavy night of drinking as you would be.

These friends come and find you when you've “gone to clear your head”, they come and see you when they are missing you, they let you cry in front of them then take the mic out of you enough to make you smile and they give you the pep talk you need to face that person who is making your life a misery.

These friends are rare, normally formed in the shape of one.

They hold onto you because they know you are worth it too. This friend can go months without seeing you, but when you meet up it’s like no time has passed. They never forget your birthday, because they are either with you or wishing they could be.

To find so many qualities in one person, practically impossible in this world, right?

But when you have a friend that comes pretty darn close, you know their worth holding onto.

It’s time to return those rare qualities...

First tattoo (July 2008)

This is a piece of work I wrote as part of my course at university about my first tattoo, which I got done whilst in India in 2008..

I can’t believe I am actually going to do this. My hands are shaking and I am breaking into a cold sweat. Why did I let her talk me into this? If I go first and she doesn’t get one done too I am going to flip out. At least it will be worth it when I go home because If I don’t do it now then I will definitely never do it because I’ll just chicken out. Just think of the cake, think of the cake. The cake. No I can’t do this, it’s too scary. Oh crap we are here; there is no going back now. If this man gets it wrong I think I might cry.

He says it won’t be painful but I am not convinced. My hands are so sweaty. It’s really hot in here or is that just me, maybe it’s just me. Oh gosh don’t look at the needle. Oh crap I looked its massive. Oh fuck this is actually going to happen. If she lets go of my hand I might scream or cry, maybe I’ll even pass out then I won’t have to do it.

Those needles best be clean or my mum will kill me if I come back with an infected tattoo. Wow. I can’t believe, oh fuck that hurts. Ouch. Why the hell did I let her talk me into FUCK. Wow this is painful. Everyone told me it wouldn’t hurt. Why does he have a strange look on his face? This is creeping me out. What am I doing? It’s so scratchy it’s like torture.

Ok. The worst is over with. Cool. It looks cool. I have a tattoo. Awesome. I am so cool. I wonder what my mum will say. Maybe I won’t show her first of all. What a surprise everyone will get, innocent little Alice has a tattoo. Ouch!! Not again. Please God. Not again. Shit. Shit. This is more painful the second time round. It’s ok. It will be over soon. Any minute now. No? Keep going. Ok. I hate you! You are causing me so much pain. Oh it’s done. Phew that was quicker than I thought. I wonder if it will bleed.

So glad it’s over. It’s really sore. Jeepers, no one said it would be this sore. Now it’s your turn missy. Bet she will cry, I hope she does, it caused me enough pain. Now there is no getting out of it for you. I hope she doesn’t break my hand.

Anger is an issue

Appologies for swearing, this is a fictional piece based on a patient in a mental asylum..

"I’m Angry. Apparently, they put me in here because I go blind with rage. Silly fuckers. Do I look angry to you? I am not angry at all, that’s not the right word to describe how he made me feel. When he pinned me down. And used my head as a hammer, my body as a tool. He should be in here. Locked up without a key. Being told your crazy, a psycho, mental, abusive, a disturbed human being who is a bit fruity, a loco lunatic. My brains unstable, unbalanced, I am a tad nutsy but i’m not fucking angry. When they pulled me from the mess of his body they shouted at me, deranged, schizoid, fucking nutter, stupid screwball, she is off her nut, crackpot. Wanker. That’s what I echoed in return. You try living with someone who puts his fag ends out on your face. That’s right, I’m the fucking lunatic. I’m the one who got locked away because I am the one who got abused, who got thrown about as if i was a sack of potatoes. He had it coming. Fucking good. That’s what i felt when i saw the blood pour out his skull. But i’m not angry, not me."

Nothing beats a bit of tlc

When the clouds start to gather over head,
when your crumbling into blindness,
when your vision is your reflection,
when you want out, but have no hands to reach it,

a little bit of tender loving care is all you need.

If you end up suffocated with no cash back, no guarantee,
if your creeping into a pit where nothing seeps in,
if your being here is a hollow absence,
if you can't understand or comprehend yourself,

a little bit of tender loving care is all you need.

Then you can wipe the salt from your eyes,
then your shoulders become much lighter,
then your not alone, but your embraced,
then you can say yes, a sweeping revelation,

a little bit of tender loving care is all I need

to be comforted with my head held high,
to forget my deep cuts caused by their words,
to remember I am worthy, I am someone,
to say yes, with an arm around my shoulder,

a little bit of tender loving care is all I needed.

Inhibitions

These are things that we are so afraid of saying, or acting in a certain way...

For me, I hate karaoke, at least when I am sober i do. But if I am honest, even when I have had a few to drink I still find it scares me silly. I just KNOW that I can't sing, I wish I could, but I am not going to do anything about it because it doesn't bother me enough. When I am out in a club and I know a song I will just sing a long fine and happy because I am being silly and no one cares when your in a crowd full of people, you don't care. What matters is the unified voice singing above the noise of the song, every drunk face joined in unison to bring about a murmur of noise.

Inhibitions come in so many forms, mine come in worrying what people think about me too much when it comes to singing karaoke, or becoming very rowdy and silly. It's a great feeling when you don't let your inhibitions rule you, but instead, you go crazy!! For most people this happens when you are drunk, except you take that step and run a mile... everyone tends to take things a little too far!

I have given up alcohol for lent and it is proving to be a challenge so far, but it has been over 2 and a half weeks an i have managed it so far. So when I am in a situation, such as a club, surrounded by drunks, i can let my inhibitions go as well. They won't remember. These drunkards around me won't blink an eye, so who cares if i dance crazy and sing painfully, if I am really loud and rowdy, who cares? No one but me will remember in the morning. And waking up feeling o.k is a pretty good feeling. Not wasting my day in bed or feeling hungover.

So i think once you put yourself in a situation where you have no choice but to let go of your inhibitions, regardless if you are drunk or not, I think the results can be incredible. I had an amazing night on Thursday when i didn't drink. So perhaps I will continue this. I will at least until Easter, which is about 4 weeks time. Maybe I will learn a lot from this experience, I definitely am learning people think I am a little crazy because I am giving up alcohol which in their eyes is "impossible". I will prove them wrong.

I can't say that, whenever I am in a karaoke situation ,I will go up and sing, alcohol or not, because I haven't quite got to that stage. I will need to work on this one...

Every time I travel

... I end up with a story. Why is that? Do you think it's because of the way the world is created... full of people so unlike each other, so unique, with their own mannerisms, quirks and practices? When different cultures meet perhaps they sometimes collide?

Every time I travel i see a new expression, a new face with their sadness, joy or confusion. Their smiles from soft to exuberant. Every inch of their face tells it's own story, their outfit chosen for the day, none the same. Young couples who like to show each other off, to old couples who still hold hands.

Is it true the further north you go the friendlier people get?

Maybe my stories came about because my personality tends to be one that is inevitably going to get itself into an awkward situation to a journey from hell. You hear about those people that things happen to, I think it must be the way the world works, that i am that person. I have been hand selected to take on what this unexplainable planet has to dish out. If something is going to go wrong it will. It's not always a 'bad' thing that happens, but it is definitely, at the time, a cause for considerable patients.

So. My story. When I travel. Do you think I end up with something to tell because my being is destined this way, after every journey and because I look friendly so an advantage is taken?

These people must specifically be placed to find me. To torment me, talk to me. To frustrate me or bother my peaceful reading. The reading I am frantically trying to catch up on for uni. I feel ready for anything with the knowledge of past experiences packed in my bag. My book and headphones at the ready.
Phone? Check
Food? Check
Now all I have to do is aboard my mode of transport and hope for the best. Hope that today, it won't be my day. that today I will get to my destination in peace, unstressed and ready for whatever, or whoever awaits me at the end.
But, with the ways of the world as they are, and the people within it being out of my control, I can only go prepared. My hope is packed and my patients is within snatching distance.
Here.
I.
Go...