Round Peg, Square Hole

You may have heard the expression 'square peg, round hole', well, this came to mind last week when I was staying at my parents'.  Only I didn't feel like a square peg in a round hole - this would imply that I didn't fit there anymore.  No, what I felt was more like a round peg in a square hole.  By this I mean that I slipped in easily to my childhood home, but it wasn't a snug fit.  Assuming the round peg is smaller than the hole it would go in easily, but also come out easily - this is how I felt.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't have a bad time.  In fact, it was the holiday I needed after the stress of uni (and now I've come back to the stress of what happens after uni).  I also didn't feel like I didn't belong.  But it was much more complicated than that.  I did belong.  But at the same time I felt that when I left I wouldn't have left a new mark on the place.  This isn't necessarily a bad thing.  I just think it means that while I will always be part of that family, that house, it isn't where I 'belong' any more.  I have my own life now.  That house is where my roots are, it is where I came from.  But it isn't where I fit anymore.

I'm honestly not sure if I'm making any sense here.  Trying to explain the feeling of belong and not belonging at the same time is one of the more challenging things I've ever done.  The only other way I can think of saying it, is that I felt almost like a ghost.  Not one who was invisible.  But one that doesn't leave an imprint and when it is gone, no one notices that it's not there anymore.  Okay, that sounds much worse than I intend.  I know I will be remembered (honestly mum, I know you remember me and think of me!) but I am not really part of that life anymore, not in that way (the way where I live there) anyway.

I hope that amongst this rambling you have managed to understand what I am trying to say.  In my childhood home I am a round peg, and it is a square hole.  So now I just have to find the place and life that is a round hole of the perfect size.

A Word on Faith

On Sunday my brother was baptised and he and Kess were made official members of their Church.  Now, I am not Christian (actually I'm Pagan) but I once was so know how it all works.  And I haven't been in a Church for a long while (mostly because I don't want to - it's not really relevant to me after all).  To be fair, I'm not a big fan of the Christian religion - to me it seems that a lot of Christians are only really Christian in Church.  Not to mention the wars and prejudice and the constant attempt to convert me (even after I was converted!) 

But on Sunday I realised something.  I may not believe in religion, but I do believe in faith.  I believe in people when they are filled with faith.  And I realised that I am not that different from many of the Christians in that particular Church.  The Minister spoke about how their faith led them to purpose and the ability to trust themselves to another and how they are never alone.  As he spoke I knew that that is how my faith makes me feel.  I don't believe the same things as them, but I believe our faith unites us.

I would consider myself a very open-minded and accepting person (I mean, not many non-Christians would get up and give a testimony starting with "I am not a Christian" in front the Church) (because that is what I did of course) (or no one I know, unless they just don't tell people they do on their weekends).  Okay, deep breath, sorry about all the parentheticals.  So yeah, I believe that everyone has the right to believe what they want and to live how they want, as long as it is not harming anyone else.  But as I look around me all I see is prejudice and hate and I know that that is not what religion and faith should be for.  We should all be united in the knowledge that we all have a faith, not be bickering over which faith is 'right'.

What about you?  Do you believe so strongly in your faith that you want everyone else to follow your beliefs?  Or do you let the idea of faith keep you peaceful and hope for a better world?

Emotional Connect

On Saturday night I watched the new Doctor Who episode (don't worry - no spoilers here).  I am a great fan of Doctor Who and am increasingly loving Matt Smith.  But today I'm not going to write about him (no matter how yummy he is).  I want to write about the fact that I was scared.

Yes, you read that right.  Saturday's episode seriously scared me.  And for once it wasn't the premise (like with 'The Empty Child'), it was the alien itself.  Now, I consider myself to be the same as most of the population - jaded and cynical with a strong stomach.  I am not really bothered by blood, guts and gore.  Usually if something freaks me out it is the psychological element that gets to me (like Davros).  But on Saturday, the visual of the alien physically turned my stomach.  I only slept because I was so tired (though when I woke up in the middle of the night I couldn't get back to sleep easily due to its face haunting me).  As far as I know I didn't have nightmares, though I'm expecting them any day now.  The truth is - the alien scared me.  Not the idea of the alien.  Not even the fact of what it could do (though that was a little creepy - I'm not going to say more as that would be spoiling it).  But the aliens face.

I have been scared by Doctor Who exactly twice - the two times I mention above.  And the thing is I thought I couldn't get scared, like I said, I'm jaded. And even if I did I was sure I would never admit it.  Yet I'm admitting it here and now.  Because I realised something. 

I am glad I was scared.

I am glad that there is that bit of human left in me that made me scared.  It is a valid emotion and so I'm not afraid to say that it scared me.  If anything, it just proves how amazing the Doctor Who team are.  And I hope one day that my writing will bring out a base emotion in someone else.  Not necessarily fear, but something.  That is my aim.  I want to touch people with my work.  I want them to remember it.  I want them to think about it when they should be sleeping.  I want my work to matter. 

I actually didn't realise the last few things until I wrote them here.  I want my work to matter.  So from now on, that's what I'm aiming for.  I am aiming to appeal to just one person emotionally. If I can do that, I think I'll be content (though I'm sure I would find a new goal to reach).  What about you?  Why do you do what you do?  Why do you write/draw/whatever it is you do?

Easter Cakes!

As it's Easter, Chris and I decided to make some cakes (okay, so we made them last week, but close enough!).  We used the simple recipe of chocolate + rice crispies = cakes.  And I thought I'd share it with you in picture form (just in case you can't work out how to make them yourselves!)

We started with some chocolate.  We used 3 bars of cooking chocolate but I don't think it really matters.

Then we melted the chocolate in the microwave (I told you it was difficult) and Chris poured it in to the mixing bowl.

The we added rice crispies.  I don't know how much we used as we guestimated based on how many the chocolate could cover.

I then put the mixture into the muffin cases and Chris put a few eggs on to each (sorry, no pic for that).

In all, the mixture made 13 big cakes which were enjoyed by my family.  Have you made any treats for Easter? Or given this recipe a try?

Award!

I have just received an award from a good blogging friend Veevee.

Click to go to her blog

I was very surprised to receive this award and it made my day.  I hope that you all agree with her that my blog is full of complete honesty - as that is what I'm aiming for with every word.  I write this blog primarily with my readers in mind.  I want you to feel that this is as much your space as it is mine.  Since starting this blog I have discovered that the community surrounding the blog-o-sphere is the the reason I blog.  Yes, my words are important to me, but not as important as your responses and the friendships created via this blog.

A Social Hole

Today I had the chance to catch up with a friend from college.  I haven't seen him in over a year (at least) so it was great so chat and talk about our lives and how they're going.  He is in his first year of uni and as I listened to his escapades I couldn't help feeling a little jealous, and a little nostalgic for the life I led in my first year.  Don't get me wrong, I am relatively happy with how my life is now, but as I remembered going clubbing each week, drinking alcohol and meeting lots of people it's not surprising that I found myself missing that lifestyle.


I left wondering why I was jealous of someone living like that.  I'll be the first to say I did not follow any 'rules' in my first year, in particular regarding my health and lifestyle.  My sleeping schedule was a tragedy, and my diet wasn't much better.  In respect to that, I feel much more fulfilled now. 

I have come to the conclusion that what I really miss is the socialisation I had in my first year.  Back then I knew a lot of people, I made friends easily and was rarely left to face the world alone.  Unfortunately, due to the fact that I'm not able to go out very often now (plus the work load increase for all of us), I am no longer in much contact with any of those friends.  Sure, if we see each other in town we say hi (considering that I manage to leave the house about once a week, that isn't a normal occurance).  But the only real contact we have is via facebook - a poke here, a message there.  No longer do I get phone calls each week to see if I'm going out.  I am alone (not completely as I have Chris, but he feels more a part of me than anything).  All my socialising is now done online.  I have made friends online and I am thankful for each and every one of them - but it is not the same as seeing someone face to face over coffee and having a good old natter.

Surprise!

I came back to my parents' on Sunday.  I haven't seen them since Christmas and figured this would be a good time to see them all.  I wasn't expecting the random present I was given (seriously, no clue at all).  For those of you don't know it was...

A Kindle!  Yep, I have the best parents ever!

So, of course, being an avid reader I downloaded a few free books and, as a blogger, had to take pictures of the screen (by the way, the one above is one of the many pictures presented when the kindle is in 'sleep' mode).

 And after I'd started organising them into different collections (so far I have favourites, classics, non-fic and writing books)

 And once the novelty of organising them wore off (okay, I'm still thinking of new collections I could create - any ideas?) I bought a book.  (Technically it was the second book as I accidentally bought the complete works of Emily Dickinson - though for 69p I can't complain.)  So what did I buy?

Notes From Underground Anthology (you can purchase it here) which is an anthology created through the Literary Lab.  I will be writing a review of it as soon as I've finished reading it (at the same time as reading a page here and there of all the other books I'll have!)

And, because I know you're just dying to see it covered in beautiful words, a final pic:

Anyone else have a kindle or other ereader?  Anyone planning on getting one?