Week Late Valentine’s

My boyfriend and I have just hit the eight month mark, and this year was the first time I was going to get to see Valentine’s Day from within a relationship.

So of course, sod’s law decided to shove it’s size thirteen boots into my life.

Boyfriend pulled something in the back of his knee, (didn’t say how), and I was hobbling about on a dodgy toe. What’s more, the film that I wanted to see only came out in America on the 14th, not the U.K. Hence Valentine’s a week later when the film did come on in the U.K and we could actually go see it.

I argued with online booking, I argued with three pairs of shoes and I forgot to pick up my gloves but we made it to the film! Success.

Despite the online advice that high demand for the film might mean tickets were in short supply the theatre was pretty much empty. There was boyfriend and I, and two other couples. Six of us in total to watch a film in what was the smallest theatre I have ever seen. But it was nice and I don’t really mind missing Valentine’s day. We both enjoyed the film and boyfriend has bought me the book as a Valentine’s present.

As for the film itself; well you really need to read the book by the looks of it. You get the feeling you’re missing a lot of back story, but that would probably be my only qualm. I loved the casting and the take on good versus evil with Will Smith playing a fantastically placid Lucifer. I think some films tend to go overboard with the imagery surrounding the devil by that theological debate is a whole other post which I may do next week if I remember the topic by morning. (I tend to have “oh that will be cool moments” and then forget about them completely after sleep. It’s rather annoying, especially if one of those moments solves a massive plot-hole in my novel and I’m just too tired to pick up a pen.)

I love films that twist halfway through and say “AHA! You thought this was going to happen, you thought me cliche! Well see here Miss Forrester, I shall now completely surprise you. Mwhahahahaha!” *Discrete cough* Hmm, yes, anyway. My point is that I enjoyed the film, am looking forward to reading the book and in a not really there point to the post; Valentine’s Day didn’t sweep me up as much as I thought it would.

I would have liked roses though. I really don’t want the only flowers I ever receive as a Valentines to be from my dad. [When my dad remembers he buys my mum a big bouquet and then a single rose for my sister and I each so everyone in the house has flowers on Valentines. I repeat, when he remembers. This is the household that regularly forgets birthdays, anniversaries and any other memorable occasion or event.]

winters-tale-poster

Organising Up

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I’ve been buying notebooks again, however I do believe that this is based on fair reasoning.

In preparation for the third of April, when I will be launching my new book of poetry and stories at the Shrewsbury Coffee House, I’m attempting to attend more poetry open mic nights.

Since most of my poetry is spread over an accumulation of about five individual notepads, interspersed with inspirational imagery, chapters from fan fictions and layouts for original chapters, a new form of organisation seemed overdue.

The plain notepad is the new one. Dedicated to poetry only, and what is more, dedicated to completed poems only. It is what I will hopefully be reading from at any future open mic nights and what I should be reading from on the third of April. (Though that night I may read just from the book.)

Do leave a message if you know of any up and coming poetry nights in the U.K, preferably around Shropshire or Bath. Even if they’re not open mic, it is still nice to go out for an evening of poetry.

Elusive Jeans

English: Mannequins wearing jeans in Sânnicola...
English: Mannequins wearing jeans in Sânnicolau Mare, Romania Deutsch: Schaufensterpuppen mit Jeans in Sânnicolau Mare, Rumänien (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am aware that I’m short. Apparently I’m dead on five foot, but I was told this by a rather drunk, self-proclaimed witch shortly before he ended up paralytic on the floor and this might suggest that is less than accurate. It is a number that seems close enough though and I’m going to stick with that when people ask how tall I am, since any other answer would first require me to spend the time measuring myself.

Have you ever tried to measure yourself? It is always far more hassle then I care to put myself through.

But back to the original point of this post; which is actually nothing to do with jeans but a feeling of guilt that I have not posted properly in a while and I am actually quite proud of my older, not-so-fiction-based posts that are hidden somewhere in the archives of this blog. (Check them out if you have time. I think they’re rather good and I tend to be my harshest critic. I could also be wrong; but we won’t mention that.) Anyway. My older not-so-fiction-based posts are the only journal I really keep anymore. Paper based ones tend to be scribbled in a couple of times and then sit dormant on a bookshelf until I go back and throw away the overly emotional drivel of thirteen-year-old me.

There is a reason why I don’t like my older poetry. It sucks.

However! I’ve found that writing up about what goes on in my little life here, tends to produce much more cohesive and engaging pieces of writing than any of my journals ever did. I tend to write in a stream of consciousness, I don’t proof-read that much and I spend the next twenty minutes staring at the notifications tab hoping that someone will leave a comment and validate my eccentricity.

Blogging and writing in general requires a certain level of egotism. You lot are getting to see our life’s work in a way; if we’re not going to be pompous about it then why do we bother trying to show our work to the masses in the first place?

This brings me perfectly into why a stream of consciousness can be a problem with these posts. Well less of a problem and more of a confusion since I tend to wander off down numerous tangents before I get to my point. I mean really! I haven’t even mentioned why me being short is relevant to this post yet.

Why is it relevant?

It is relevant because last Thursday I went shopping for boot-cut jeans.

Firstly, nowhere really wants to sell you boot-cut jeans, they all want to see you skinny jeans instead. I have plenty of skinny jeans at home. On Thursday I wanted boot-cut.

Two places had a good selection. The Gap shop in Chester had a really good range and the costumer service was absolutely fantastic! Within moments of me turning to the display rail looking completely bemused as to what I was actually meant to do next, and which pair I wanted, there was a shop assistant there and waiting. Incredibly friendly and ready to help. It was just a shame that all the jeans were a little too long in the leg to actually fit me.

See that is the problem. Around the bum, hips and thighs, the jeans would fit and look dam good. I’m nicely proportioned. I feel comfortable in my body. However, the jeans puddled on the ground at my feet.

As a student I find myself walking around campus and the town a lot. Even if I wore a fairly tall pair of heels, which I tend to do normally, my trousers would still drag and the bottoms would no doubt get soaked on damp days.

There was only one place that I found where the jeans fit me perfectly.

Next.

The Next petite range was a fantastic fit. Size sixes, and a reasonable leg length. I found that in some other shops even the petite lengths were as long as the regulars, making shopping rather frustrating. It was a shame that the petite range in Next wasn’t bigger. For a fair sized store the range was rather limited.

I don’t think that my size is that unusual. I’ve met loads of people who are a similar height and build, who find the same issues when shopping for clothes.

I’m definitely short, but I’m not that short.

So what was your worst shopping experience? Do you end up traipsing sing from shop to shop just to find what you want? Or do you throw in the towel and risk the uncertainty of online purchases?

You can leave your responses in the comments below! Go one! Have a good moan.

Hunting for Creativity

Today I wanted to be creative.

I wanted the words to flow

Four am wake ups from rogue ideas

And conceded scribbles to bribe back sleep.

 

I needed the clatter of keyboards

Rattling my mind for the last drops

Waiting for the final thunk of gold

The smudges of ink that pulled a chapter whole.

 

Instead I got the crumpled paper

Of half hearted attempts to write.

Jottings, notes and contradicting plots

Which spin webs of confusion in my mind.

 

Works that once seemed good

Fractured beneath my own acid gaze.

 

I’m supposed to be a writer

Why can I not pin you down?

Where’s my sledge hammer for this block?

How do you bury my words so far beneath ground?

Rainbow dash

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In my sixth form we have all received our exam timetables. This of course means that each of us had received a form to inform the exams officer that he has done his job correctly and non of our test clash with each other.
We basically get given a green sheet of paper with an empty box, and in that box we have to write the world nil…
Now surely you’ll be asking, if the sheet was just thrown away then surely the exam officer would just assume that everything was fine with the timetable?

No.

To do so would ensure months of sarcastic taunts and angry notes, life is just easier when you do as the exam officer says.
Unless you’re Jad, the resident Pokemon, who somehow always manages to fail on all three counts. This year she only managed to fail on two, and Jad being Jad could not just write the word nil.

 

Well of she’s going to risk the wrath of the exams officer, she may as well do it with style!