Looking back to when The Zutons were one of my favourite bands and I bought their CD from Woolworths. They were responsible for Valerie, not Amy!
It is wearing a ball gown while wading through the thickest waist-high mud for miles and miles
Needing to light a hundred feet tall candle with one little match and no ladder
A thousand bees inside a small, metal box with one coin-sized hole
Seeing the finish line before the starting gun goes off
Trying a particular lipstick and it changing into another shade by midday
Sticky notes that keep falling off the wall and disappearing between the floorboards
Your dad’s heavy denim jacket that you will never grow into
Turning the volume up as high as it will go and still straining to hear the music
Eating until you are full and still feeling like you are starving
Waiting for the knock on the door when you’re sitting in a meadow
It is reaching the other side of the bridge before you have set one foot on it to cross.
I always want to write, every minute of every day, and I always have ideas in my head. Ideas that might be big, and they might last for no longer than two seconds. They’re all still there, and they’re all very loud and blinding.
When they are small, it’s hard to justify the effort to put them onto paper.
And when they are big stories that are bouncing around in my head, that are so complicated, I would need to sit in silence for a week to even grasp them with both hands.
Sometimes there is no motivation to write anything, fictional or otherwise. Sometimes this site goes neglected and unloved for weeks at a time. And sometimes I can’t stop. Sometimes it’s unhealthy when I stay awake until the small hours, scribbling by lamplight.
All to often, the desire to write plagues me but my body refuses. Together, we make the decision not to pick up the pen and notebook. We can’t even use an app on the tablet. But the stories are there. The characters are screaming at me inside my head to let them out, but I can’t always release them.
I have never finished a project. Starting to write so young meant that my language was soft and poor. Looking at it now makes me cringe and I could never submit that anywhere, so it is added to the pile. I’m sure that pile is taller than me by now.
There is a colourful rush that comes with writing and a relief, as though eliminating a headache and making room in my head. I’ll never stop, no matter who comes along and degrades my work, because I write for me and no one else.
I recently read an article about the hidden female mindset, discussing how men don’t understand what women go through on a daily basis in regards to everyday sexism. The author of the article talked about how women have been ‘trained’ to constantly brush aside anything that makes them feel uncomfortable or makes them feel like the lesser sex. Now then, I’ve had my fair share and I 100% agree with how messed up the world is when I can’t walk down a street at night without my phone clutched in my hand. It’s uncool, it’s unnecessary and there is a part of me that jumps at strange noises (although that could just be me with my inherent fear of balloons and fireworks). What I don’t agree with is how the author talked about being wary of men on the street, in car parks, shops, anywhere and always thinking ‘they could overpower me and I wouldn’t be able to stop it.’ I’m not going to lie, there are a lot of men and women out there who could probably overpower me and beat me to a pulp with my real lack of muscle tissue from not working out… Ever. The difference is I don’t convince myself that this is going to happen because there’s a bloke in the same vicinity as me.
I am all for equal rights, but not just for women, for everyone and I absolutely draw the line when women start lumping men together in the category of ‘violent thug’ or whatever phrase is popular that week. A person – man or woman – is not necessarily going to attack you just because you are a female. Yes there are some shit eating people in the world who don’t deserve a moment’s thought but they’re the exceptions. Bad things happen in the world, it’s a sad, sad truth, but I don’t think that we as women need to shuffle around, carefully avoiding men that we don’t know. I accept that horrific things happen to women – and men – and something definitely needs to happen, something needs to change.
I don’t go about my everyday business quashing my thoughts about how men are better than me. You do get sleezy guys who rear their heads every so often but that’s just a hazard of the job. We can deal with them and all of the women I know, including myself are confident enough to deal with awkward situations. We don’t hide it, if something uncomfortable happens, I go straight to my boyfriend, my dad or my male housemates. I tell somebody, I don’t keep it a dirty little secret and then go on tumblr and slate the male gender. The more random oestrogen-fuelled articles I read about feminism, the more I’m finding it aggravates me to know what some women actually think about men. I have a lot of wonderful men in my life and I’m glad that they’re there. I also have a lot of good women in my life but in all truth some of the worst people that I’ve known have been female. It’s all about bring open and not judging people because of their gender. Ultimately, I’m going to stop reading these articles that appear on Facebook and just get on with life as soon as I’ve posted this blog article!
Peace out x