Category: Adulthood

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations

Social Media

Social Media is really strange.

It is an information overload, there is so much to take in. All the time. A constant feed of news and stories. Peoples thoughts and feelings. Other peoples thoughts about those thoughts and feelings. It never stops. Ever. Time differences make this happen. And insomnia.

This morning I planned to spend an extra hour sleeping but I have used half an hour of that hour up already staring at my screen. Scrolling. Catching up on everything that I missed while I was asleep for eight hours. EIGHT HOURS. I’ve only touched the surface. In half an hour. So much information.

There are, of course, really good bits. There are lovely photos of people doing lovely things. Inspirational posts about records of achievement or important life events that people are really happy about and wish to share with the world.

They also want to share what they had for dinner. What they are doing each moment in time. What they are thinking. Their view both politically and of a field near their house. Bizarre. We all do it though.

There is so much love on people’s birthdays. Couples anniversaries. Births of new born babies. Deaths.

When selling items or tracking down dogs or posting a job vacancy in a small business or notifying of a community event, it is a brilliant brilliant tool. There are few better places to promote than on the social.

It never stops. This fricking world never stops spinning. Sometimes you want it to. So bad. For just a minute. Sixty seconds.

Letter writing is almost extinct. Visiting a friend’s Facebook page allows you into their life, what they are doing, where they are living, whether they are married, have any children. A like is deemed contact. A love is even more. A virtual wave, a handshake, a thumbs up. You’re doing great.

Memories daily reminding you of the past and reminders to tell you about the events in the future. Making you realise how, maybe, you should be living. How you used to be. The moment just whizzes by.

It is good. It is bad. It is a voice, a platform, loving, dangerous, cruel, unkind, kind, helpful, useful, boring, odd.

Social Media is a really strange thing.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations

Things adulthood forces you to do:

Adulthood. A whirlwind. While we’re all tirelessly trying to get by with the notion of an alcoholic beverage at the end of each day, I thought I’d cheer everybody up by showing that you’re not alone. Here are things that adulthood forces us all to do (I’m sure of it). I really hope I’m not the only one.

Set an alarm for a fifteen minute nap

Moan about being tired

Procrastinate by doing chores to avoid other adult responsibilities

Want to go to bed earlier

Moan about being tired

Cancel on social events

Celebrate when a friend cancels on social events

Drink too much

Work so hard your eyes turn blurry

Moan about being tired

Enjoy the little things more

Appreciate the outdoors

Talk to people who bore you

Talk to pets like they are human

Do anything to shut off the mind

Keep on learning every day

Moan about being tired

Worry about the future when there’s nothing you can do about it

Feel fully satisfied after ticking three things off the to do list

Stay at the pub for “just one more”

Realise that health, happiness and love are everything

Moan about being tired

Treat half a day off as a fortnight away in paradise

Embrace those long road trips

Embrace time to yourself

Listen more

Moan about being tired

Notice the beauty of the world around us

Find yourself “just being polite” frequently

Give up on looks and focus on fun

Scream at the moon and at the waves

Enjoy life

Moan about being tired

Adulthood might be hard, tiring and testing, but it also makes up the majority of the time that most of us are lucky enough to spend on earth and it is great!

Categories
Adulthood fiction Stories Writing

Delay (part 1)

“Don’t you think, you know, you should maybe consider taking some time off.”

“Mmm,” Melanie grunted disapprovingly.

“I don’t think you realise how much you take on all of the time and this is just huge for you to cope with. Mel, you look tired. Seriously. We are all so concerned for you.”

“I don’t know.”

“Just ask at work, they are going to understand completely. They will. And you will feel so much better for it.”

“I just hate letting people down.”

“For God’s sake you aren’t letting anyone down!”

“I just think I’ll worry that I am though.”

“Mel.”

I knew as Cassie was speaking with that same affirmative tone that I’d heard so many times before she meant what she said. It was like being spoken to by a teacher at school, a decision-making boss, or, worse, my mother. As irritating as it made me, I also realised that such seriousness in Cassie’s voice meant that the care was so genuine and that my situation was probably more serious than I treated it.

I knew I buried most issues under the carpet. I knew it was a trait that I would always possess. Yet I struggled to see quite how this proved to be such an issue to so many people around me. An interest almost. I failed to see that my getting annoyed at their care was wrong and how I was extremely lucky to have so many people looking out for me, irritating me daily when all I wanted to be was alone.  

“Here you go, another cup of the good stuff will sort you out.” Cassie passed me a perfect cup of tea, just how I liked it.

Cassie always knew to leave me when I fell into one of my unique zone out moments, but she always knew how to welcome me back into the world with such warmth.

“Thanks.”

“Here, I’ll stay for another one of these then grab a bottle on my way back, shall I?”

“Sure.”

After consuming our warm brews, Cassie left for the long list of chores that her Sunday had in store for her, but she was sure to be back by six o’clock, prompt as ever. Her hugs were so tight and true that it left me wiping the tears that I didn’t know existed away from my face. I had finally broken a little and began to feel ashamed for it when the doorbell rang, again.

“One moment!” I shouted, straightening myself up and powdering my nose as fast as I could so the guest wouldn’t notice my sadness.

I hoped it would be the postman but then remembered it was a Sunday. Then I prayed for a delivery man, the milkman working extra, a supermarket van driver for an order that I had sent for while drunk and had then forgotten about. I hoped it would be anybody except for who I knew that it would be. Somebody else offering their deep concern for my wellbeing and somebody else wishing to sit for hours telling me that I needed to take some time out, to rest, to look after myself for once in my life.

Categories
Adulthood fiction Observations Stories Writing

The Friend

“So, that’s all we have time for on the programme this week.”

There’s a soothing aspect to having the radio on as a constant background noise. It is something that I feel strongly about and as a result, my house is never quiet. Whether I’m leaving it on so that Poppy, my Spaniel, doesn’t feel lonely while I’m out in the day, or to keep my mind focused on the words being said so that it doesn’t wander into those dangerous dark places, I always have sound.

Poppy’s favourite station is Radio 2, though she does like Heart FM on Sunday’s – musicals and love songs aren’t her thing. I particularly enjoy Radio 4 for it’s discussions and the peaceful tranquility that comes with it. I feel I learn something merely by having it playing out even if I’m not listening and, most of all, I feel like I have company when I am alone.

I find Sunday’s the hardest days to cope after everything. Sunday morning television is hideous and currently I haven’t a good book to indulge in. I love to lose myself in fictional worlds but it has to be the correct, gripping read and my taste is becoming pickier as my age increases.

Poppy lay on my lap sound asleep but in a state whereby if I move she will know instantly and pine for me to return. I can sense it and, apparently, so can she. Stroking her soft fur brings me calmness but otherwise I am fidgety and restless. What to do.

I press my phone and there is nothing. No messages, no likes or comments on social media, not even a breaking news broadcast. Nothing is going on.

Outside is cold but sunny and bright which brings envy towards my friends with kids and perfect families, probably playing outdoors or off out for lunch at a country pub that they saw recommended in the paper. I rarely envy children having made a conscious decision not to have them, but times like this I do.

Breathing in slowly and out deeply relaxes me further but only for a second when a car pulls up onto next doors driveway causing Poppy to bark loudly in attempt to warn possible intruders off. She fails to realise that they live there and it is perfectly within their rights to park up.

I tune back into the radio that has been playing throughout my morning and chuckle slightly at the comedians. Even though I don’t find them very funny at all, I feel I should at least try to laugh on occasion today.

The day suddenly feels huge with an expanse of time to fill in which I have no plans and nobody to plan with. I pick up the paper and attempt the crossword to add productivity to my day. At least I will have achieved something that way.

The first clue. Seven down. I can’t do it.

The door rings. Jenna.

“Oh hey darling, I was just checking in. See if you’re alright. Martin has gone out with the kids. I wanted some time to myself.”

Imagine that, I think, wanting some time to yourself.

“Lovely to see you.” I say, genuinely so grateful for her presence.

“Here, look. I brought a bottle. It’s up to you but I really fancy one.”

“It is the weekend after all,” I agree, pretending I’ve got it all together with my normal, upbeat response.

I take the perfectly chilled bottle from her, my thumb prints marking the icy casing and put it on the kitchen side while retrieving two glasses from the cupboard.

“I’d usually not consider drinking before 1pm,” I say with a smirk.

“This isn’t a usual day,” replies Jenna, reassuringly but making me question her mental state as well.

I pour equally generous measures into the glasses and smile at the sound. I smile at the sudden buzzing feeling inside me. A feeling I’d forgotten about.

“Cheers to friends,” we both say simultaneously.

The first sip and I am reminded how lucky I am.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Seasonal

How’s your January?

Bleak, dismal, grey, tiring, sad, long, monotonous, cold, dark. These are a few words that people use to describe the month of January. How is yours going?

The period after Christmas is always strange. The new year brings a lot of excitement and anticipation initially, but a week in and everyone is scared of the change, worn out by the darkness and fed up with the cold.

I am a firm believer of the condition S.A.D which stands for seasonal affective disorder that many people suffer during the darker winter months.

I’m not afraid to admit that some days during this difficult month I have cried for no reason. I have panicked about the future unnecessarily. I have felt tired and exhausted wondering where I am going wrong in life and then I look outside and realise that it is pitch black and only 3pm.

I wake up in darkness, walk to work in darkness and leave work in darkness. My toes and fingers have threatened to fall off due to being freezing cold. I am running out of warm jumpers because they are all in the wash. My motivation is lacking most days. I feel overwhelmed with my year’s to-do list!

The memes fill social media describing the ninety fifth day of January. The weather reporters bring news of more rain, grey skies and the big freeze. Outside looks bare and spring seems miles away.

However, while running on an extremely bright and beautiful morning this week I discovered some perks to this godawful first month of the year and decided that there are ways to appreciate January as much as any other month:

  • the hope of spring is around the corner
  • there is still beautiful sunshine
  • glistening frost
  • wood burners
  • appreciation of a thick coat
  • there are buds on the trees
  • the first signs of daffodils start to appear
  • dogs look really cute in coats

So there we have it. January. A depressing yet hopeful, beautiful month.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Writing

Social Media – a false existence.

On a personal level I find social media both brilliant and destructive.

It enables me to keep in contact with more friends than I would ever be able to without it and from all corners of the globe. It gives me an insight into the exciting travel adventures of others, let’s me read about inspiring people doing wonderful things and provides me with ideas about how to better my life.

However, it also gets me down on mundane days when I’m going about my quiet little life and others are dining with celebrities, climbing mountains and looking drop dead gorgeous.

I think we all know not to compare ourselves with others and that what people post on their social accounts is a warped view of reality. I like to think of myself as very real on my personal Facebook and Instagram accounts, not worrying too much about what I look like to the rest of the world, yet I can understand how people easily get swept under the false carpet.

Since I have become a part of the literary social world using my accounts as tools for writing inspiration, motivation and also (I hate to admit) publicity, I have had a very different experience of the virtual social world.

I started my writing Facebook page first on which I plugged my blog. This is still very much the case and an extremely useful tool in doing so. It is also linked to my fairly new Instagram.

This was started after a conversation with my sister who is a photographer about how to build a social following in attempt to promote my work in the future. All very innocent and necessary.

I had every intention from the beginning to keep the account as real as possible and simply portray a writer’s life. This went firmly out of the window almost immediately as I posed in Aldeburgh in front of my sister and her camera.

Elegantly reading my book on a wall, looking into the distance (as you do). Sitting on the beach wearing the hoodie from work and beside my dog pausing so well it’s as if I have told him to sit for the photo (which I absolutely had).

I was planning weeks of photos in advance. Putting them in order of which day I would post them and occasionally even writing out the caption that would go with them.

In fact it is very rare that I post a photo of what I am doing at the very moment I am doing it, no edits, reflecting my true writer’s life, warts and all.

I have heard well known celebrities talk about this on podcasts whereby they have such a strong presence on social media that there have been days when they post a feel good post while crying themselves silly on the sofa. There seems to be such pressure and no break that I can see how it could get intense.

I have backtracked slightly now (maybe because I am starting to get somewhere with my writing so no longer need to fake it), but still find it difficult to be entirely true yet remain professional.

Recently I have found putting a weekly theme to my feed gains authenticity because the photos are genuine recommendations of things I have genuinely done in the past and are clearly from the past. I am not claiming them to be me, now.

That all said though, for all the bad parts of social media, there are so many good things that it brings so of course I will still use it and hopefully become truer to myself every day.

It is an interesting topic of discussion in the modern world and why my main focus of book number 2 is both the damning and honest aspects to the vibrant social world!

Categories
Adulthood fiction Stories Writing

Follow Me

“Don’t look back, stop being stupid,” Alana whispered to herself as if that would make the moment more reassuring. Except she was terrified. Utterly terrified.

Her steps were speeding up as were those of the tall, slim figure behind. She broke into an almost run and so did the silhouette following her.

“He’s not following me, it is just a coincidence,” she repeated aloud.

She knew that he was. She knew that this was not a moment of chance. Her gut was telling her so and since leaving her friend’s house, she had been watching the streets very closely.

He must have known she left at the same time each night. He must have researched her, worked out how regimental she was to routine. He must have waited for the clocks to go back before beginning his mission, whatever that was. To scare her? He was doing a good job of that. What did he want? How did she know that he was male?

She didn’t.

She edged her neck around realising that it would have looked less obvious if her movement had been faster, but she was too afraid for subtlety. The figure was still following her and speeding up accordingly to match her pace.

Her heart was racing and her legs felt numb. The cold air was biting the ends of her fingers and toes, but the rest of her body was overheating in fear. She wished she had taken her friend up on that drink she offered her. Maybe it would have relaxed her a bit, calmed her nerves.

Each time she reached a streetlight, which wasn’t often, she felt a bit safer. The figure vanished momentarily every time. She didn’t know where. Then, in the darkness, it reappeared as if it wasn’t actually there.

She knew that the alleyway would mark a long period of low glowing light so she hoped that the figure would change direction. Just before leaving the darkness it was so close to her that she could almost hear the breath. She picked up pace. She reached the light.

Scared to turn back she looked forward and ran. She ran until she reached the group of houses before hers. Feeling surrounded by safety, she built up some courage to turn. There it was. At the top of the road, standing. Still. Staring down at her, panting hard.

What was his intention. What did he want from her? If he really wanted to catch her then surely, he could have, she isn’t the fastest runner.

She turned her gaze forward again and stopped a moment to catch her breath. She didn’t want her mother to ask questions.

Feeling ready to resume her journey home she caught sight of the door to her house.

‘Hello, Katie. It’s been too long.’

The figure that had been so frightening behind her was terrifyingly in front.

She froze unable to consider what to do next.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations

To anybody struggling…

To anybody struggling – you’ll have a lovely Christmas

To anybody finding things difficult – there are good days to come

To anybody wanting more – the best day of your life may not have happened yet

To anybody feeling anxious – one day your confidence will overrule

To anybody suffering – the rain will pass you by

To anybody worrying – it may not matter in the future of yours

To anybody fighting – you are stronger than you think

To anybody comparing – you don’t see the bad parts

To anybody not smiling – you have so much in life to smile about

To anybody hurting – it will get better

To anybody over doing it – take some time for you

To anybody fretting – weigh up what’s important

To anybody feeling empty – notice everything around you, appreciate

To anybody struggling – you have got this.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Writing

10 Things that help me distract my creative brain

As a creative with an overactive imagination, sometimes I find it getting the better of me. I feel overwhelmed by thoughts and sometimes even scared, especially when I dream.

I find certain things in life distract this chaos and help me masses when trying to relax without thinking up a new plot line for a novel or a horrific scene in my head for the next short story competition. Here are a few things that help me distract my creative brain:

Reading

Something I don’t do enough and miss it when I haven’t made time to read, but it is something that helps me lose myself in this busy world and escape into another one.

The radio

Even if I’m not actually listening to it, I find that simply by having the radio on in the background soothes me. I also have a theory that the wisdom from shows on radio 4 subconsciously sinks in, thus upping my intelligence, but that’s just a theory!

Podcasts

Much like the radio, I find listening to podcasts very relaxing and a way to gain an insight into various topical discussions and learn new things away from my writing. I am also more likely to be consciously listening to a podcast which is always a good sign!

Music

Whether it’s on my walk to work, whilst getting ready for work or on a car journey in between, music is essential to my life. I struggle to go a whole day without it. It is my saviour.

Walking

Walking is another essential to the structure of my days and a nice break from my writing. Sometimes if writers block is looming, a nice stroll will soon sort it out.

Socialising

Being with those closest to me is an obvious candidate for distracting my creative brain and exchanging scary story lines for happy thoughts. If simply being doesn’t work instantly which it usually does, then I find talking about ideas I’ve had or dreams that are bothering me helps.

Being by the sea

The sea is amazing in both chilling me out down to the core and springing up new ideas within my creative side. I wrote a lot of my first novel by the sea and loved what I wrote.

Travelling and car journeys

With company or alone, I find car journeys (train or any other method of transport) a happy space in which to stop, to contemplate and to live in the moment. All of the activities in this list are about living in the moment and focusing on that to take a breath away from the chaos that is life, especially that of a creative, and travelling certainly does that.

Meditation

I tend to dip in and out of mediation and yoga but I find them both very useful. If I have had a particularly busy or mind boggling shift at the stores, when I come home to write, I meditate for five minutes before doing any work. This helps me to make the shift between different types of work and puts me in the correct zone to write.

Puzzles

Sudoku or jigsaws, without sounding like a grandma, are great in losing myself in the moment. They require focus so my brain can’t be bombarded with other stuff but not too much that they put stress on it.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction

My perfect writing day

My perfect writing day would begin with a wake up time of something later than 7AM! It would probably be a Sunday (no work – yay!) and so I won’t feel guilty for lying in until around 8 o’clock.

I will get up and boil the kettle to make myself a first cup of tea which I will enjoy with a tasty lemon yum yum and my book. I love having time to read other people’s work and I love taking the time to read without constantly staring at the clock thinking about how long I have until I have to get to leave the house.

Having read and drank and gained inspiration for my own writing, I will get up and boil the kettle for a second cup of tea which I will enjoy in silence, just thinking. I may be writing inside my head or simply allowing the ideas to bounce around my mind before I begin the serious business of getting them down onto paper.

Next I will mediate. Just for five minutes but a meditation settles my mind and puts me in the correct mental space in which I write best.

Then it’s all about my setup. In the summer months this will be more commonly in the garden, in the winter it’s usually at my desk, but ALWAYS it consists of coffee, water, maybe snacks, an incense burning, my diary and my laptop.

Then I will write. And write. And write.

No time restraints, no noise, just me, myself and my imagination…

Wine comes later after a successful amount of work has been done. That’s the perfect writing day for me!