Language

As a writer, I find myself often caught up in the story I'm trying to tell, the characters I'm creating, and making sure my grammar and spelling are up to par.  Now, don't get me wrong, these are all important factors.  But, sometimes the most important factor gets lost in amongst all the worry.  Language.

It is so easy to forget that language is at the core of my writing.  When I realised this, I was horrified - how could I ever have taken such an important tool for granted?  I mean, I appreciate that words are how we communicate, but I had stopped appreciating the choice of words.  Every single word means something.  And when we are writing, we should be completely aware of our word choices. 

Not only should we choose our words with care, we should enjoy the process.  So I'm planning on having some fun with language in the next few weeks.  I'm going to play about with word order and the words I use and see what I come up with.  I'm not expecting it to lead to anything amazing - but I am hoping to rekindle my love of words and just have fun with language for a change.

Have you forgotten your love of language?  Any ideas for word play that I can try?

Culmination

There are a few reasons I haven't blogged so far this week: problems with my internet; problems with my M.E.  But mostly stress as I hand in my final project (a.k.a. my dissertation).  Yes, two days ago I handed in the very final piece of work for my degree.  And as I don't have any exams - I guess that makes me finished.  Okay, so technically I'm still a student until the end of June, but for all intents and purposes, I'm finished.  I have completed the thing that I've spent my last three years leading up to.  I have completed my degree.

And honestly it's left me feeling a bit disorientated and lost.  I have been a student my whole life, and now...now I am not.  I am no longer a student.  Neither am I employed.  I am in that weird space in between.  I don't know what my future will hold and part of me can't wait to find out.  But another part of me wants to stay still, stay where I know what is expected and what I am doing.  So I am compromising - I am not going to stay still.  But nor am I going to rush forward and miss the present.  I am going to take it a day at a time and watch my life unravel.  After all, I still have my writing and crafts and other life stuff to keep me more than busy.

Every day now I have to remember that I'm starting something new; and that while my feelings of fear are completely rational, I will not let them govern me.  But for the next week or so, I am simply going to take a deep breath of relief and try to relax.  I need to let my body and mind recover from the past three years and prepare for the future.  A future I will share within this space - just in case you're interested.  

When Change Is Bad

It is often said that people don't like change; or, at least, British people don't like change.  I used to be one of those people.  I would rebel and rebel and rebel against anything changing in my life.  And then I learnt that change wasn't necessarily a bad thing.  Sometimes, allowing things to change is the only way forward in life, the only way to explore who you are as a human being. 

But I am a traditionalist at heart.  I'm not even exaggerating here - I am one of those weird nostalgic people who is always trying to hold onto traditions that I've never even really been a part of.  But, to me, there are just some things that you don't mess with.  Certain brands should never change their name (seriously, if WH Smith's changed their name I might never go in their shops again), certain traditions should always be held sacred (the celebrating of a birthday, no matter how you feel about it) and companies that have brought the same (tried and tested) product to the masses for a long time should go changing that product.

Unfortunately the last one has happened.  And it is so bad that I no longer buy this product.  I'm sure you'll all think I'm weird for writing an entire post on this, especially when you find out what the product is.

Cadbury's Dairy Milk bar.

That's right.  It has gone from this:

Click for Source

 To this:

(Sorry the picture is so blurry but it was literally the only one I could find)

Now, I am a huge chocoholic.  I eat a lot of it.  And until now, I ate a lot of Cadbury's Dairy Milk bars.  But now they've changed.  I can deal with their stupid 'spots vs stripes' campaign.  I can deal with the penny rise in the price.  I can even deal with the fact that the bars are 20g less than they used to be.  What I can't deal with is the change in the recipe.

They might think no one will notice that they've added a numbered ingredient to the mix.  But I did.  And I didn't notice by looking at the packaging - I noticed by taste alone.  The bars are now noticably sweeter than they were only a few months ago.  And that is a deal-breaker for me.  And what is the point in changing the recipe?  Seriously, they know people loved it, so why mess with it?  This is one change I can't deal with and so I am no longer buying Cadbury's chocolate - after all, there are plenty of choices (Galaxy, Milka) - as they have ruined the product I loved.  I know this probably won't make a huge difference - one person not buying the average of a bar a day might not be noticed.  But then again...it might.

The Ballet

I have always admired the beauty of ballet - to me it is incredible how anyone can train their bodies to move so eloquently and make it appear effortless.  And, of course, there are the costumes - who wouldn't dream of being a sparkling ballerina princess (or is that just me)?  But I had only been able to indulge my love of it through reading about it and watching video clips on YouTube (btw, if you love ballet as much as me, you should definitely follow Anaheim Ballet).

Yesterday, I got to watch my first ever, real, right-in-front-of-me (I'm not kidding - I was in the front row, less than a metre from the stage), ballet.  It was a performance of Coppelia - a fascinating story with plenty of humour.  In truth, it was the perfect ballet to see live.  I had worried that I would get bored when faced with an entire production (the only ballet I've been able to watch all the way through on film is Sleeping Beauty which will probably always be my favourite) but this was certainly not the case.  Not only was I thralled with the magic of seeing it up close, I became entagled in the story.  It is true that ballet can only really truly be appreciated when it is seen live.

This was an incredible experience for me and I am so thankful that there are ballet companies about that are willing to tour to local theatres, providing cheap tickets, to bring this incredible art form to the masses.  If you are interested, I saw The European Ballet - I would highly recommend you see if they are visiting your area as it really is an amazing experience.  Not to mention that afterwards, the prima dancers were very accommodating in signing many many tickets and programmes.  Many of the audience members were like me - they had never had the opportunity to see a real ballet before and I hope these dancers realise how many dreams they make come true each time they dance.

Heatwave

In the past 2 weeks, it has rained once.  Seriously - once!  I know I probably shouldn't be complaining, but it is April. What happened to April showers?  In fact, what happened to Spring?

Winter will always be my favourite season, but Spring is a very close second. I love that the flowers come out and the sweet scented breeze that makes it too nippy to take off your jacket.  This year we seemed to have skipped that.  Today it was hot - so hot that I'm wearing my only strappy summer top.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoy sunshine (there's nothing better than not being affected by depression because the sun is out).  But I also love the rain.  And I'm worried that all the beautiful flowers are going to die before most of them have even bloomed. Not to mention that sitting inside writing when the sun is so bright outside really is not tempting.  Is it just me that feels like this?  Am I just being incredibly British with my weather complaints here?  Are you out getting a tan right now and hate me for putting a dampner on the whole thing?

Having Hope

Every day I wake up with fresh hope that today will be better.  I will read and write and make good use of my time.  Of course, most evenings I am struggling to continue.  But the magic of a new day arrives and I try again.  I mean, how hard can it be?  Everyone else manages to cope.  So I wake up with the belief that today will be a good day; today I'll be productive and happy and nothing will get in the way of that.  I have to face every day with this attitude as otherwise everything becomes too much for me to bear.  In this way, I deal with the depression when it comes each evening, but I only deal with one day's worth, not an accumulation.  I don't think I could cope if every day I woke up I had to deal with all that came before it as well.

This is an extract of what I wrote in my freewriting yesterday morning.  I continued like this for fifteen minutes (ie, until my arm ached).  I am not sharing this with you for you to feel sorry for me or to be shocked at how optimistic I can be.  I am sharing it with you so you can understand how I live my life - day to day, moment to moment.  This is what it is like for me every morning.  When I wake up I have to have this mindset, or I would sink into depression.  As someone who has been there, done that, let me tell you that it is not fun and not a mental place I ever want to be in again.

I can't vouch for everyone else living with M.E. and the multitude of other chronic illnesses and disabilities, but this is how I cope.  I don't feel brave.  I don't feel strong.  When I am crying my soul out on my boyfriend's shoulder every night I feel like a failure (in fact, I believe he is the strong one for dealing with it).  But every morning I have to believe that today will be better, today I won't be in excruciating pain and exhaustion by the end of the day.  I have to believe because I don't have any other option.  Okay, I know I do have an option.  But which would you choose - to feel the worst you've ever felt times ten, permenantly; or to feel capable for a few hours each day?  Because that is the choice I'm faced with.  And, as I've said, I've tried the first one.  Now I would do almost anything to stop myself going there again.  So I choose to try.  Because I must.  Because I have to hope.

I even wrote about that yesterday as well:

 I have given up in the past but at some point I always try again.  It is the only logical way I can see to move forward in life.  Going backwards or standing still is not an option for me.  I have to have hope that I can change things and that change will happen.  Without that hope I have nothing.  That may seem like an exaggeration but for someone with depression it is not.  Depression sucks out everything about you and you become a shell, sinking deeper and further away from everything you had.

I just wanted to share this with you today to help you understand.  Please feel free to ask questions and I'll be happy to answer them.

Panic

It is April and I am officially panicking.  Okay, it's been learing for a few weeks now.  But now I have been hit with the reality that this is the month I have to hand in my final piece of work for uni (I would call it a dissertation but it's fiction so I don't know where it fits in that description).  I have less than two weeks before all my work is due in.  And I am worried that it isn't enough.  That I haven't done enough.

To add to my worry is the giant blankness that faces me after I don't have the safety cushion of being a student to get me through the days.  I don't have a job.  I have a disablility that will prevent me from working full-time and probably dissuade employers that I'm a safe bet.  I will have a degree that will be pretty useless in most careers (come on, no job asks for a Creative Writing degree).  I haven't got anywhere to live yet (mostly because we've been too worried about uni work to go looking).  I won't have any financial security so don't know if I can secure somewhere to live (and my boyfriend is the same).  You see my problem?  There is just so much to contemplate, to worry about.  And I am officially panicking.

But all I can do is try my best and hope that it will work itself out.  Afterall, in three months my whole life will be different.  Hopefully I'll be living with my boyfriend.  Hopefully I'll have some kind of job (even if it's freelance writing which I know is a lot of hard work for little pay but it's better than nothing).  Other than that it is a big empty void and I don't know how it will be filled.  So I continue each day to get on with my writing and uni work and applying for jobs and hunting for places to live, in the hope that soon it will come together and I won't feel quite so helpless, floundering about on the edge of the deep unknown.  Don't worry, I'll keep you posted.  And I know I won't fall in (I have far too much common sense to let that happen - not unless there is a disaster around the corner just waiting for me (touch wood that there is not as I don't know how much more I can handle).