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I saw your reply x

I hope the Red Slopes are still going strong X

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You don't need to reply. Seems like a hit and run otherwise. Hope you have a good life, Kelly

I don't think I can reply to 'anonymous' unfortunately, but you too. Really.

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A brief encounter with my musical (and moral) acquaintances.

I am approaching the end of my two weeks’ annual leave. Last week I was in Athens. I was hot, tired, bitten to bits, with mixed emotions but for the most part, pretty content. This week I have felt anxious and depressed. Perhaps not depressed, I don’t like to use that term, it feels too ‘final’. Displaced, disappointed, lost even. These words are probably more apt for my current state of mind.

My mind is causing me some serious harm at the moment (well, on and off since teenhood really, overwhelmingly so since February 2019 and that strange, melancholy drive to work, listening to Girl in Amber and realising that I was so open and yet so closed, filled with emotion to the point that I felt empty, feeling so much that I began to feel nothing. A strange electricity seeping from my pores that made my being feel numb, useless, to the point that I relaxed a little too much when I saw a huge truck nearing my lane, closing in on my car, myself, and then this total, I’ll call it ‘empty-fullness’, hit me and I cried. Yes, there I was at 08:45, driving along, trying to draw my tears back in, starting to feel a little amused at the way I must have looked to other drivers. And then I stopped crying, imagined straightening myself out, thought about the day ahead, continued listening to the CD, and all this before 09:00. Thanks, Nick).

I keep revisiting this episode, partly because I have convinced myself that that was normal, acceptable Tuesday morning behaviour and deep down I know it was far from acceptable, but moreover it got me to thinking about music, more so my response to music. Had I have listened to something else, would I have had a different experience that day and from that day on? Would the ensuing problematic emotions, that have, let’s face it, continued to burden me since that day have stayed buried deep within? Perhaps they would not have appeared at all and by now I would have been doing cartwheels out of bed?

I am trying to understand this jigsaw of emotions that was in me, around me, not to mention coming out of my speakers. Music is sometimes so caught up with being in the background of our existence, that we can forget how important and how emotionally draining (in a positive way!) it can be. Less sound and more a conversation with ourselves, our surroundings, ourselves in our surroundings, and our mind (and spirit, if you like) forcing that connection, our physical selves do not really stand a chance. It is a gorgeous feeling really, that moment when you almost wake up from a somewhat catatonic state and hear something and realise it entered your entire being before you even acknowledged it was a song, a composition, some silly chords and words put together, that suddenly speaks for you when you can’t find the words, becomes a sort of medication for the spirit, a friend-foe (if something can make you feel so alive and yet so bitterly sore, can we truly call it a friend? If all your musical choices feel like friends then you are probably listening to too much glee). It would be trite to refer to music as an extension of the self, a missing part of our character, but surely it must be something more than mere background noise?

There must be a reason why we listen to what we choose to listen to; does it choose us, does it fit our social climate, our customised image, is there something deep in that complicated landscape, or that shitty ditty that we, to a point, take for granted? Have you ever had a day wherein you do not listen to anything at all? I have had weeks in which I will listen to the radio on my daily commute. I share this because to me, this feels like listening to ‘nothing’. It is blah. Now and again you may come across a decent song and the incessant retuning and skipping will feel worthwhile, but for the most part, it is a pointless task, in which white noise would be preferable. And I worry that time is too precious to listen to inanity. A day wasted when I could have had Lou or Nick. I say ‘day’ because as an adult, with a job, a house, relationships to maintain etc., you quickly lose track of spare time.

When I was younger I had so much time to discover new (and old) music, I could easily dedicate my day to listening to Radiohead’s complete back catalogue, from start to finish. That would be a worthwhile day’s work right there. Now there is less time for music, and it really boils down to the daily commute. Even if the radio is on at work, it must be communal, accessible to all, sadly no one wants jazz fusion or industrial, it has to be something light-hearted, easy-going, and to a point, blah. Then home time comes and there are always other things to do. It almost feels odd to sit and listen to music in the evening, like something is wrong. Should someone walk into the room, and find me sitting alone, listening to something deep, dark and wonderful, they will almost definitely assume that some of my wires are out of place, that I am planning something morbid, or I have had a bad day (when it would probably be the complete opposite!). So why is it perfectly and socially acceptable to watch TV alone but not to listen to music? I fear that reading is escaping down that same path, hence I fit my reading into bath time, otherwise I struggle (but that is for another time).

I guess the point I’m making, or querying, is it is hard, when you’re in a relationship, to find time to do things like read, or listen to music (the latter because for me, unless it is accompanied by alcohol, chitchat and dancing, is an all too personal experience to share with someone, unless that exploration is equally valued and on par with watching The Price is Right. It quickly becomes too awkward and deep, like something intense has to happen and then there is the problem of too much silence, if silence falls, it feels irregular, but if conversation ensues, the music becomes meagre background noise, UNLESS it is a deep analysis of the music, but that is probably too tiring after a day’s work, in which all we really want is to stare at a wall, notice some new markings, think about things, the marking, the music, the markings in relation to the music, the day in relation to the music, the markings starting to become words and images and then you have yourself a chance artwork! OR as previously highlighted, something to fill the empty space of things, and connect us, that music that resonates and creates and just kind of happens around us, in us, and does not really need to impress us or do anything at all, but simply exist, in that moment and create a barrier, or blanket, or friend, or punchbag or maybe just something lovely that will perish within the next three minutes. You can try and listen to something again the following day, week, year, but it will not feel the same, simply because you will not feel the same and therefore that connection, or friendship will feel different. You may have a greater understanding of it, or your feelings have changed completely, and it no longer affects you, perhaps it has joined the blah pile?).

To return to my original point, and to the present. When I think about Monday I shudder, feel tension in my chest, feel guilt over my lack of productivity, feel disjointed and irritable, feel I have not seen enough people, done enough activities. When I think about returning to work, I want to hurt myself in some way (and what would my body have possibly done to deserve that?). However, I know deep down that it is not work’s fault, it is me; it is in me.

The problem lies in connection with adulthood, my awareness of what is expected versus what I expect of myself. When I was at work a couple of weeks ago, I talked fondly of this post-holiday week, in which I would make clothes, paint, write, do all of the things I used to enjoy but tell myself I no longer have time to do, I’d embrace this week of nothingness, no plans, just Kelly time and really throw myself into making myself feel something, not happy, but alive. Now it is Thursday and I have not really done anything of note. I have exercised, sent off some poems (I really had to force that one as the frame of mind I am in will not permit rejection of any kind), been to the pub and for tea (my social side needs some stimulation, and it involved live music) and I have watched films, bought some music, skincare etc., little things really. However, the guilt is there; I should have done more with my time, I will not get this back, I will go to work on Monday and regret not enjoying my freedom… but why the guilt? Maybe I can just be and not have to do all the time. Maybe reading that book or watching that film or eating those biscuits meant something to me at that time, and just because my mind is somewhere else, trying to sew a dress or draw some lemurs, it should not have the right to make me feel lifeless and sad for doing something else.

There are things we do, things we think we want to do, things we think we should do and then there is the stuff in between, the things we call pointless, a waste of time etc. My fear is that the things I think I want to do now are actually the interests of the old me, and I do not want to do them anymore, that part of me is dead and I am holding on because there is nothing else going on in my life that I get pleasure from, like real day-to-day pleasure. It is bullshit, and I know it. That part of me is there, whether it pops up in the next hour or in the next decade, who cares, putting pressure on myself to be something that really, my current state is not ready to be, is actually killing any kind of spirit I have. Nothing can be forced. With the exception of Monday morning and that dreaded return to vocational life. But hey, we all have to do it, much like trips to the bathroom and eating healthily. So, perhaps nothing is pointless after all. It is all pulling and pushing, plotting and plodding, and time for nothingness has to fit in somewhere. If only for a chance to expel the negativity, or positivity, if you please. And I actually really enjoyed Mona Lisa Smile.

[iinventedthepotato-blog]

Who, what, why

I was writing today, and it got me thinking about the physical process. For me, the end point always seems to be in mind, like it’s something I’m rushing through to, dare I say, get it over and done with. I’d say I enjoy the beginning and the end. The middle is a bit of a drag. Yet I always claim that the process is more important than the outcome. The outcome is usually for someone else, even if we deny this. I was also thinking about therapeutic writing. That is writing for me, for my release. Kelly’s release from Kelly. If it’s purely for the process, then why share? Why send it away? Perhaps to help other people, so they don’t feel alone?

You’re never truly alone, because when you write you always have someone in mind. You’re writing to someone, for someone, about someone, we’re social animals, it’s hard to be totally disconnected, even if we try, even if we claim to be writing about ourselves, for ourselves, ‘ourselves’ rapidly becomes a myriad of personas, each one playing an important part in shaping how we present ourselves and indeed our work, creative or not, to the outside world. Therefore, if nothing creative is objective, is anything really ever unique?

[iinventedthepotato-blog]

Wasted time

I don't understand why people think weekends are a good idea. I hate weekends. They're just a reminder of how drab life actually is. We spend Monday to Friday wishing time (life) away just so we can, in some crude way or another, celebrate for 48 hours. There's nothing to do on a weekend, except wish it away so you can get back to Monday to Friday, which you can then wish away to get to the weekend. It's a horrible cycle. It is. And all I seem to do is reflect on my existence. It's generally quite negative too. It's proving to be a bit of a pickle, given that I hate the start of the week, I hate mid-week, and I hate weekends. Maybe Thursday is my saviour. Then again, it's the longest day of my life (on repeat).

Alas, maybe I just need to get a life, or, failing that, a hobby.

[iinventedthepotato-blog]

Define

I am nothing.

I will never be anything.

I cannot wish to be anything.

Bar that, I have in me all the dreams of the world.

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Pomme

I've had such a nice day, and now I feel dreadful. Why do things have to be one way or another? On the upside, I have a new hat and dress. 2 quid for both of them. Yes, that's right, shop until you think no more :|

[iinventedthepotato-blog]

Tuesday

What simple profundities What profound simplicities To sit down among the trees and breathe with them in murmur brool and breeze — And how can I trust them who pollute the sky with heavens the below with hells Well, humankind, I’m part of you and so my son but neither of us will believe your big sad lie

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2012: a year.

It’s all over and done with. 2012: What a year. 2012: it was off to a good start. I had lots to look forward to. I had lots of wonderful people around me, it was a brand new year and the fear of the end of the world was behind me. The fear had replaced itself with the unknown. This, in hindsight, was probably more scary... the unknown. I suppose it depends on how one chooses to look at it. If something is unknown, surely it can't affect me? It's what I choose to attach to this unknown. Excitement? Sorrow? Repetition? I suppose that's what is exciting about New Year. There's a chance to, not start over, but start again, fresh and motivated, everything you forgot to do last year you can do this year etc.

So, 2012... Ups and downs, smiles and frowns. Meeting people is easy but losing them is easier. I've discovered that for every person gained, at least two people are lost. I guess that's life? A healthy balance and all. Still, I'm one of those people that like to keep everything in its right place. I don't like change. If something is added, nothing is lost. Things are piled on top until there's very little space left. Maybe this in itself is a bad choice, after all, the more I pile in front of myself, the less of the world I get to see.

So, my review of 2012. I've had some wonderful experiences, and some not-so-wonderful-but-still-worthwhile experiences. Everything counts! I've been on lots of extended trips: Dublin, Amsterdam, Leeds, Bournemouth, Ripon, Brighton, York, London, Manchester... some lovely day trips: Scarborough, Whitby, Beamish :), Newcastle, Skinningrove, Yarm, York, Leeds, Saltburn, Chester Zoo, Eden Camp, the sea life centre, Bolton and Bolton Museum! And Preston Hall to name but a few. I've met some amazing people, most of which I've kept in my life. I've passed my photography course and have started a science and maths course.

I started 2012 in a hotel room in Leeds. I woke up next to Katherine and Gemma. It was a treat. Sadly, Brewster’s Hotels aren't to be trusted with their deliverance of croissants and coffee.

2012 was the year of career change. I switched from the arts to sciences. Now I'm contemplating a switch back. Ohhh this career malarkey is a tough one. I wish someone would choose for me. Strangely, I'm happy to sort someone else’s life out for them. I guess I enjoy organising stuff. And being bossy. Or maybe it's to take away the focus on my own life!

Valentine's Day was spent with my dear Rach, watching Titanic in 3D. I couldn't have asked for a better date :)

Congratulations are in order for my parents' 29th wedding anniversary (30th this year!)

Then came March... this is when it turned sour! I started working for Primark. This was an experience in itself, but it also added to my search for self-worth, my battle with reality and my imminent inner meltdown. April is a bit of a blur, and May was the beginning of my special relationship with medication. I can't say it's helping, but it's one of those things I guess. I hope to get better one day. Even though, I'm not entirely sure what 'better' is. I don't want to spend my life looking for something that is supposed to exist, yet is likely to be nonexistent. I'm going to take small steps and cherish the small things that make me feel positive/worthwhile. I gets that's what 'better' is. I guess that's what living is? Otherwise I'm likely to sit on my hands and close my eyes and wait for life to find me. Well, you never know, that could be an interesting experience!

June/July: very ill with gastroenteritis, lost 8lbs! Departed from Primark. Enjoyed a trip to Brighton with Rach. It's climbed to number 2 of my favourite cities. It's just a magical place. I described it as a place where people are allowed to live as a result of finding themselves.  I enjoyed my birthday season too. I went to Eden Camp and then drank wine and tried chocolate Philadelphia. This year's party was 'an animal that represents your personality' themed. I made my own dress and went as a peacock. Naturally ;)

August was cold but I enjoyed a trip to York with Shaun, where we discovered the greatest rock bar known to man - complete with bin bags and cooking oil. A return to Chester Zoo brought about a realisation as I sat for a significant amount of time with the chimpanzees. I realised I wanted to study primatology/science. It seems bizarre that I'd loved primates since I was in primary school, but somewhere along the line it was forgotten. Anyway, this is when I enrolled on an access to sciences course, and re-sat my maths. It's going, err, well!

September was the beginning of my course. I met some great people and started to find a part of myself that was otherwise temporarily absent. Maybe suppressed! I did the Middlesbrough 10k run (after arduous gym sessions) and was very proud of myself, so much so I went to the pub in my t-shirt and medal.... I also learned to swim! Finally! Thanks to David's patience. I saw Africa Express and met Damon Albarn. Oh, and had a my place crispy cake!

In October a few of us went to Manchester. Everyone saw Radiohead. I didn't. FML! Anyway, I had a nice night and discovered some new cocktails... Yeah, Thom Yorke, take that! Halloween was spent in Manchester also. Rach and I went to see 80s Matchbox B-Line Disaster. It was immense. I love Halloween, well; I love an excuse to dress up... Oh! And I finally visited Bolton Museum! It was like a dream!!

October was significant for many other reasons, mainly my courtship with the Councillor. We're nearly up to our three month anniversary <3 (I expect a home-made card).  We've had many wonderful trips, mainly Bournemouth, which brought me to Monkey World: somewhere I've wanted to visit for the past decade. It was the happiest moment of my year, and it stirred emotions that had lay dormant for many months. I should ask the doctor to prescribe me a chimp :) Well, I met the Councillor Chimp in the Monkey World gift shop who is there for me every night when I go to bed.

We also visited a Wetherspoons hotel. It was an experience. As was Ripon (and its one nightclub, WITH a revolving dance floor).

November and December have been busy busy busy. I've had lots to do at college, and have sadly fallen out of my gym routine/healthy eating plan :( but I'm back on it now! Well, getting there... Christopher graduated for his PHD. I was a proud lady. We had a wintery time in York, complete with mulled wine. We also had our own Christmas day in Leeds.

And then Christmas itself! Lots of dinners, parties, friends, Baileys, tears and shit wrapping paper that doesn't stick.

Then comes New Year's Eve. More so, New Year's Eve in Berlin :D My favourite city in the world, with the person I love, at the beginning of a new year. It was beautiful. And Blue were there, singing All Rise!!! EPIC.

So here's to 2012, gone but not forgotten, and that includes every single one of you in it. 2013 is going to be great, because I'm going to make it great (for me, anyway).

 xxx

[iinventedthepotato-blog]

Today

Stand up against governments, against God. Stay irresponsible. Say only what we know & imagine. Absolutes are Coercion. Change is absolute. Ordinary mind includes eternal perceptions. Observe what’s vivid. Notice what you notice. Catch yourself thinking. Vividness is self-selecting. If we don’t show anyone, we’re free to write anything. Remember the future. Freedom costs little in the U.S. Asvise only myself. Don’t drink yourself to death. Two molecules clanking us against each other require an observer to become scientific data. The measuring instrument determines the appearance of the phenomenal world (after Einstein). The universe is subjective.. Walt Whitman celebrated Person. We are observer, measuring instrument, eye, subject, Person. Universe is Person. Inside skull is vast as outside skull. What’s in between thoughts? Mind is outer space. What do we say to ourselves in bed at night, making no sound? “First thought, best thought.” Mind is shapely, Art is shapely. Maximum information, minimum number of syllables. Syntax condensed, sound is solid. Intense fragments of spoken idiom, best. Move with rhythm, roll with vowels. Consonants around vowels make sense. Savour vowels, appreciate consonants. Subject is known by what she sees. Others can measure their vision by what we see. Candour ends paranoia.

[iinventedthepotato-blog]

Interruption. Planned. Sequence.

I had a series of bizarre dreams last night/this morning. I've spent a large amount of my day thinking about them, and, naturally, what they could mean. I like sleep, I love dreams. Apparently, if one dreams one is not in a deep state of sleep, hence, it's beneficial to not dream, as it'll mean a big sleep etc etc etc... Well, I'd happily sacrifice my sleep in order to keep dreaming! It's a fascinating process. Does waking life influence our dreams, or do dreams influence our waking life? It could all be chemical nonsense; then again, I'm still an avid believer in the three-separate-entity game. Mind, body and spirit. Optimistically[?] I like to think dreams are anything but physical/chemical.

It's a possibility that dreams are reality, and reality is a dream. That one is living a parallel life. Maybe every dream is merely a clip of other 'higher' dimensions. If the mind was a corridor, and each door an entrance to a certain aspect of one's life, then surely, there's a possibility that 'dreaming' is actually just channelling into a certain timeframe, or multiple-scenario.

The imagery I experienced last night is reminiscent of my present life, in that there are certain people, places and personal interests that echo my everyday situations. However, there was an awful lot of fear, destruction, escape and, strangely enough, death!?

I'm either dealing with my issues through the creative trickery of dreams, or I'm experiencing past, present and future situations whilst my body is in an intense state of relaxation... or is it deprivation?

I've also spent a lot of this week thinking about Papua New Guinea. There's obviously a reason for this.

X

[iinventedthepotato-blog]

WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?

Papua New Guinea

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You're amazing x

:) x

[iinventedthepotato-blog]

A return to blogging! Will this be a regular occurrence? x

Anonymous!!!!!! x