Tuesday, 22 August 2017

This love

It has its own direction now
If before I mastered the fringes
Now I'm hapless sail
In the winds of your majesty

Why is it my fragments
That must entice you
Mere echos of interest
But I cannot dilute nature

Must I quiet the passion
As this will not map your path
Just quell the moment
Each meeting transitory

Can the wildness be anchored
Each ache somehow transmuted
So it is not asymmetric
But ongoing in its journey


Xxxxxx


Sunday, 20 August 2017

Gaps

The gaps between our time have widened somehow. Though not in actual time. My response to them has changed. There is a greater sense of gapedness. I'm practically measuring time by you. The time apart is less. The time with is more. In short I miss you much. Our next liaison may be shorter than usual. Thus I will embrace every single second of it.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx 💖

Thursday, 17 August 2017

Dandelion clock

A dandelion clock floats past me. I watch it gently fade away into spaces outside my field of vision. As a child, I called dandelion clocks fairies and spoke wishes into their feathery seeds. Once I couldn't see them, I believed they had returned to Fairy Land to grant my wish. Though thoughts of wonder have given way to logic. I still believe in magic. I feel the evidence every time you look at me. And I suppose if I made a wish, it'd be for you. 

💖💖💖

Wednesday, 16 August 2017

Flying V for peace ✌️

Oh war memorial man of Alsager, how many times I've walked past you and noted your striking resemblance to a rock guitarist. The way you hold your rifle. Fingers poised for a spellbinding solo, rather than warfare. Said rifle resembling the flying V, if you squint a bit and drink a lot.


I have so many vague memories of shouting ‘Angus’ at your stoney visage because in the dark of night, through misty eyes, you are much like Angus Young from AC-DC. 

Now that The Arms public house has gone. An empty space stands where once there was a monument to raucous behaviour. I don't suppose I'll drunkenly rock salute your stoney self anytime soon.

And yes I know what the real statue represents. A fallen hero or rather a testament to the many who fell because some idiot thought war would be a good idea. Thus there is much sadness in my ridiculous humour.

I don't suppose many politicians would agree but make music, not war.

Peace ✌️ 

Xxx



Monday, 14 August 2017

In a song


Let hands slow to Venus time
Retract from world beyond
An imprint of loves energy
As days pass in a song

xxx








Sunday, 6 August 2017

Collaboration

What is better than being inspired to write poetry? Inspiring beautiful poetry in the man who inspires me. We are both muse and creator. I'm greatly enjoying this collaboration. There are times when I feel unsettled. This is the fear of being hurt presenting itself. Yet, when I'm operating through instinct, I feel brave and joyous.

Tuesday, 1 August 2017

Difference




What a difference two months makes. On the 1st June, I was writing poetry about a ghost. Now on the 1st August, I'm writing it about a man who's presence is active.

At the beginning of June I was wrapping blue flowers around a broken clock. Hoping that the ghost would remember. I no longer hope for this.

On this first day of August, I love someone new. It perhaps apt that Goldfrapp's Utopia plays my wait for him to arrive at my house. Just over a week ago, he asked me what I wanted to do, I said "just be here". There wasn't anything that could have improved it. We were enough.

Xx

Easier

Sometimes it's easier when you know that love is entirely unrequited.  Of course it's terribly sad but it's still easier than I uncertainty. That sense of being too far ahead in feelings and not knowing how to backtrack through your emotions. Love doesn't come with a remote. You cannot pause, rewind, stop and you can't fast forward. I'd rewind if I could so that you might catch up. Or maybe I'd pause my feelings so I could enjoy you, us, without my heart clouding the experience. Every time I see you I feel more.  Though you tell me it's the same for you, we know that I'm a number of steps in front. You, so incredibly balanced in myriad ways. This, and others, makes you one of the best people I've met. I wonder if our feelings will ever find balance. Will you start to feel much the same way I do or never, ever catch up........

Xx

Thursday, 27 July 2017

I love you

For weeks now, I’ve been feeling like I’m falling in love.  I’ve been trying to apply theoretical brakes to this process.  Shaking my head at my emotions every time my heart sails towards you.  It's not that I don't want to fall, I just didn't want to get there before you did. Today I realise that trying to stop the tides of love is like trying to avoid the effects of gravity.  I am in love with you. I can feel it in every part of me. It's too soon to say it but it is not too soon to feel it. ❤️❤️❤️


Monday, 24 July 2017

Electricity

Sometimes the connection between two people paints magic onto each moment.  There have been suggestions of this before but Saturday was climatic in its majesty.   I wanted to wrap myself up in the threads of our chemistry and long remain there.  

I remember sitting in the pub, two week ago, when I met some of your friends for the first time.  We were listening to someone speak.  The tips of our fingers were touching.  It felt like we were suffused with electricity.

I’m trying hard not look forward too much or miss you but such is the joy of our times together, these responses are perhaps inevitable.    

Friday, 21 July 2017

My daughter

 I watch you sleep and marvel at your perfection. Your face is much the same as it was when I first held you. You're all arms and legs now, where once you were round. Your first smile, first giggle, first words - they all seem like yesterday but you're five years old. One day you'll be a woman. I know I'll still see the baby you, wrapped up in the years of your growth.

I can remember feeling terrified of motherhood. I had no idea of where to begin. This tiny person - vulnerable, perfect - entirely dependent upon me. Even when it's exactly what you want, it seems impossible to do. Yet I'm doing it and sometimes it's utterly amazing.

Though drained with a labour that lasted for days, I could still feel  the warmth of you on my chest. I can remember that feeling. You looked up at me and all the dreams of love that I'd felt as you grew inside me, solidified as our eyes met. Your eyes were newborn blue then, they're hazel now. The colour of my name.

Today is the last day of term. September will mark your transcendence into Year One. Not for the first time, I'm excited and sad simultaneously. And isn't this the cornerstone of parenthood. It gathers so many emotions together, at exactly the same time. It makes life before your child seem distant. The parenting challenges drag yet the stages of childhood zip by at ridiculous speed. I suppose The Doctor would say that parenthood is very "timey wimey".

For all the struggles, especially those brought about by being a single mother - I would not change a thing.

To my beautiful daughter. You are amazing. I love you more than you can imagine.

❣️ The RGF ❣️

Monday, 17 July 2017

Feelings

I'm placing this here, even though the romantic part of me wants to send the link to you. If you see it because you decided to rummage through my blog, then it was meant to be seen. Either way, I want to place the energy of my feelings somewhere public. I want to shout them.  I'm so happy we've met. 😍


Sunday, 16 July 2017

Searching for the ghost

Was searching for the ghost
Though I never knew
A memory, forgotten past
The fading tale of you
Was dreamlike then
Not lucid, blurred 
Like shadow in the rain
Finally I woke myself
Found place rather than train



Ghosts

I saw a picture a few days ago. I stared at it for a long time. The man in the image was familiar but I didn't know why. Not a first. It was a man who committed a crime in America many years ago. The recolouration of the image made it appear recent. The man seemed to be posing for the camera. Only on closer inspection could I see the ancient hand-cuffs and the thread bare clothes. I discovered that it was a picture of Lewis Powell / Payne, captured and sentenced to death because he had been found guilty of conspiracy to kidnap Abraham Lincoln.

He didn't look like he belonged there. He looked like he had found himself in the wrong place, at the wrong time. From what I've read, he met his co-conspirators by chance. His life may have lasted longer, if their paths hadn't crossed. How sad.

As hinted, his image was familiar to me. I realised that he looked like somebody that I used to know. So much so, it was if the man I knew had travelled back in time.  In fact, I used to wish that he could time travel. To a future point, where his emotions were healed. Of course, I don't feel like that now because my emotions are connecting with someone else. Nevertheless, seeing this picture was an eerie experience for me. Two men. Incredibly alike. Both ghosts.


Saturday, 15 July 2017

Friday, 14 July 2017

Romanticising

Today I allowed myself to imagine. Despite my determination, a Bridget Jones' dum dum de dum vision of the future slipped in through the back door of my mind. I'm sure I'm not alone in this. Women are prone to painting a future way before it's appropriate to do so.  Though, of course, few of us care to admit this.

I've always been a bit shit at wall building. I'm better at gateways with poor security systems and welcome mats. In other words, I'm quick to fall in love but slow to fall out of it. As beautiful as it is to be open and as impossible as it is to rewrite my operating system - I'm extra determined to avoid romanticising a possible future. I don't know what will happen but I do know that my romantic life is fantastic right now.

The RGF
Xxx

Sunday, 9 July 2017

Feelings start

~Something visceral
And beautifully wild
Shimmering ripples
Beginning inside
Not just body
Or even heart
You sing the songs
That will make my feelings start.~ 

Wednesday, 5 July 2017

That feeling

You know that feeling, when you see a book with an interesting cover. You pick it up, read the synopsis and think, ooooh this seems like my kind of book. Exactly the book you'd choose if  you had all the books on earth to choose from. You wonder if the promise of the cover, the synopsis will be all you imagine. You begin the absorption of each word with excitement. The pages seem to turn themselves. As sentences pass, chapter by chapter, you almost want to live vicariously through the story and embroil yourself completely in the papery goodness.

When a romantic connection is like that, it's really flipping amazing.

💖

Monday, 26 June 2017

The return

I had been waiting for the return. In fact my soul had half-written a blog post in anticipation of this.

If time is not linear but somehow circular, moreover, if each moment exists concurrently then maybe I knew the return would happen because it already had, is, will or maybe it was just hope. More importantly, perhaps the tenure of the return is different than I deemed. It was not his return but a return to me that I awaited.

I once said that I felt more like myself when I was him. That was true.  But in order to be completely myself, I had to feel it with or without him. I feel this now. 

I'm no longer waiting. Nothing has been lost. Everything is exactly as it should be. I have returned to myself because whatever seemed lost had never really gone.

There is also a chicken and egg situation here: I'm very excited that someone new has stumbled into my life. I don't know if he arrived because I stopped waiting or if I stopped waiting because he arrived. And it doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm enjoying him in each moment. It is a connection of present and presence. In other words, it will remain for as long as it should and we'll enjoy each passing moment.

The RGF

Xxx

Friday, 9 June 2017

Blanket of silence

I pick up the hope filled jug.
Then pour it on the flames.
The hope is not you now.
You were fire, once dancing,
with love's swirling rage.
Left -
this blanket of silence,
covers me, wet, like rain.
I glance back, blinking.
Only empty space remains.
I close the lid.
Sighing.
Then slowly walk away.

Wednesday, 7 June 2017

Fragments

As I sang fragments of The Incidentals today, I smiled at recent memories. 😊


Thursday, 1 June 2017

Blue flowers

Winding blue flowers
Around the broken clock
With frail desires
That you’ll forget-me-not
Pressing petal pieces
Into fractured time
Like inky pathways
That no longer chime
Soul's futile longing
Twine untwined, adrift
Loose ends reaching
To nowt but a rescind

~My eyes are still clouding​
At your whisper on the wind~

Tuesday, 30 May 2017

Waiting

I'm about to embark upon my first experience of a book club. This is super exciting and will encourage me to read as much as I used to before motherhood. Our first book will be Waiting by Ha Jin. This feels strangely apt.........


Sunday, 28 May 2017

Reminded I am

There are songs that I discovered after you, which remind me of you. It's not only the lyrics. Although of course there is some of that. Nor is it just because of the emotions in the sound. Though obviously this plays its' part. Largely, it is the connections that are reminiscent. Like stepping stones, a musical pathway, as accidental as the road that led to you.

The pathway steps along like this: Heartless Bastards appeared as a recommendation on YouTube​. I realised, albeit through alcohol infused memories, that we'd listened to them together. They were new to me then. I still don't know if Cigarettes after Sex came up for us. Though I have a feeling that they did. Maybe because of Heartless Bastards and maybe because of you, Cigarettes after Sex appeared on YouTube next. Some time later, a few months perhaps, Snowmine arrived. And it is Snowmine that triggers thoughts of you more than any other music. Though we never listened to this band together. I think you'd like them. 

Even if everything else you gave me was flawed or perhaps even false.  I do thank you for the music. There is authenticity and great beauty in it all.

Ironic though it be, reminded of you I am. 

Xxx




Friday, 26 May 2017

Love will win

It seems impossible to comprehend how the families and friends of the young people who died in Manchester will continue with their lives. Yet, I do know that somehow, with support, with love, they will.

Those that lost their lives in Manchester and across the globe, I hope they are resting in peace.

Those that have lost their loved ones, I hope they will meet and hug in their dreams.

It is difficult but somehow we must continue with our unique way of life because there is no absolute blueprint on how we should live. As long we operate with a continuous pattern of kindness, we are living a good life.

Though it seems hard to see at this time, in the end, love always over-shadows hate.

❤❤❤



Friday, 12 May 2017

Tidal wave

It is not merely a case of someone understanding your algorithm. You also must recognise theirs. The knowledge of the heart must reach out and mingle perfectly with another. The perfection is not of aesthetics nor materiality nor fashion. It is not even of wisdom or character. The heart sees its own right person. It does not do so through logic but through some system that our brains cannot fully comprehend. When it happens, it hits you like a tidal wave.


Monday, 8 May 2017

Ceilidh Rave

Discussions at work today culminated in a Ceilidh Rave Fusion. Well, my thoughts landed on the idea, we didn't actually have a Ceilidh Rave, mores the pity.  This bizarre concept probably suggests a couple of things: our in-work conversations are strange, my thought processes are even stranger. Yet is the fusion so utterly out there?

I've danced until my toes ache at a Rave, I've experienced similar foot throb at a Ceilidh. Both events have ended in a near-daylight, stumbling, debauched exit. Similarly, following both, my eyes blinked at the small hours, whilst my ears cowered​ at unexpected bird song. Yes, chemicals have played their part, as you might expect.  In fact, toxin fueled dancing is the hardest you will ever endure. And god damn it, you sweat BIG. The Ceilidh, of course, is more formalstyle than freestyle but no less bouncy for it. Finally, both Ceilidhs and Raves may be enjoyed in large buildings, which ideally, are hidden away from those who would complain about the noise pollution. The Rave and the Ceilidh: a match made in heddonistic heaven, no?

Yes. I can foresee a Ceilidh Rave. If a DJ can mix Mozart with the Sugarbabes, it should prove mere childs-play to mix a Sasha tune with some crazy Ceilidh fiddling.

A gentle Google search for Ceilidh Raves proved to be fruitless. I did stumble across a Disco Ceilidh but I'm unsure on what this entails. C E I L I D H doesn't really roll off​ the tongue like D I S C O (https://youtu.be/GSi4HE0OBcA), nevertheless it could work beautifully if we avoid false acronyms in song lyrics.

The Ceilidh Rave: let's do this!

Only for the hardcore UK Ceilidhers!

Yours, as ever,


The RGF xxx

Wednesday, 26 April 2017

RIP Unicorn

I have been thinking about the history of the unicorn. To me, this seems like a perfectly reasonable thought process to embark upon. Not in the least bit strange. Though what will follow, does get a little bit odd.  


I was interested to understand how unicorns came to be inscribed upon the fabric of modern Western society. Not exaggeration. Look around you. Unicorn-overload.  I wandered onto the World Wide Web, virtual spade in hand, to do a some light Internet digging. With the benefit of hindsight, I should have donned some gardening gloves because things are about to get unexpectedly grubby.


In modern times, the friendly unicorn can be found everywhere.  We see him on women's underwear and an extra cute unicorn type character within the likes of My Little Pony.  Yet historical representations of the beast are a million miles from the elegant, rainbow pooping unicorns we imagine today. Unicorny descriptions do vary across sources. But overall, it is safe to suggest that anything the historical unicorn loses in majestic grace is more than made up for in the macarbe.


In particular, I happened upon one account which describes a ferocious, death-defying unicorn being lulled to sleep by the breasts of a virgin. This unicorn is intimately attached to said virgin, and, (yikes) said virgin is quite naked. I kid ye not. As you'll no doubt agree, this revelation registered about a ten on my weird-as-shitometer and swiftly stomped all over my long-held images of pink, fluffy, magical creatures with shiny horns.


Here we have a unicorn that gallops around pillaging the townsfolk, that can only be tamed by the boobs of a virgin! This explodes my unicorn soulmate metaphor into the cosmos, in the most icky of ways. It is not the stuff of dreams but the fabric of nightmares.  On a metaphorical level, it’s a​ typical play on female innocence calming the wanton, horned beast. Therefore isn't exactly a celebration of the myriad power of womanhood but quite the contrary, with a hefty sprinkling of yuck.


These weird ideas are from the past. And thank goodness for that.  Nevertheless, my uni-horn discoveries have put me right off my 'favourite’ socks, which are pink, have eyes, fluttery lashes, and, yes, you've guessed it, horns.  


On this day my unicorn soulmate metaphor is no more. RIP.


With love,


The RGF

Xx


Tuesday, 18 April 2017

Wordy gathering



On this Tuesday 18th April 2017, I celebrate my blogaversary. Let the excitement flow! Nine years ago today, this gathering of words commenced.


I probably need to mark this prestigious occasion by raising a glass or two. I will not do this sarcastically. Though I feel like I'm making a joke at my own expense. No, this is a genuine celebration. This blog has been my outlet to joy, pain and pointless rambles. It is cathartic and transformative. Some of the biggest relationships of my life so far commenced since it began. I have documented their trajectory within. The greatest of these, was the birth of my daughter.

Thoughts by The Renegade Glitter Fairy, how I adore thee. 

Here's to beginnings. To endings. To bits in the middlings. Most of all, here's to words!


The RGF xx

Friday, 14 April 2017

Guitaring

 

I'd love to play this song on guitar. Of course there is that slight issue of being unable to play guitar. Coupled by the troubling fact that I don't own a guitar. Otherwise my journey towards expert strumming in a Heartless Bastard's stylee looks sound.

Thursday, 13 April 2017

It is time

The first record I bought was The Buggles, Video Killed the Radio Star. This song comments on technological advances and grieves the emphasis on image in video rather musical focus through radio.



In certain respects this song connects my thoughts to Ludschuch. A place that is emblematic of a desire to retain heritage and a refusal of the progress which threatened it. The Luddites met there. There are other stories associated with the space. In general there is a nature theme running through them.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lud%27s_Church

Ludschuch, in turn, reminds​ of Tolkien. Whose books have been described as a metaphor for industrial age that ripped through the countryside. His fear that human's were emphasising greed-power as opposed to soul-power were portrayed through the elves, ents and orcs in Lord of the Rings.



Change is necessary and progress can be marvellous. Yet progress should not destroy otherwise it is the opposite of it's alleged intention. Music should never be secondary to image, as represented by the video star. If we must worship nature, the very stuff of life, in secret, as the Luddites did then humanities priorities are in grave question.

I see Sauron as a terrifying representation of a power crazed society. Where money and control is deemed more important than oxygen. Trees are ripped out. Resources are monetised. Human life is secondary to wealth.

We need to return to something pure. We must value human life over money because money has no value without​ humanity. What use is power if the planet is dead. There would be nowhere to wield it. Appearance is irrelevant without a soul to wear it. As someone once said, we do not have a soul, we are souls.

We must re-prioritise. It is time.

Xxx

Tuesday, 11 April 2017

Monday, 10 April 2017

Fake messages



Positive aspects:

  1. Correct 'you're'. 
  2. Correct 'we're'.


Negative aspects:

  1. The message is from two men. Well possibly. It may very well be from twenty men. Hmmm I wonder what their motivation is, I think we can safely assume it's not marriage.
  2. There is no profile picture. Though if there were, it would be fake.
  3. Annoying text language abbreviations in the form of 'lol'. My goodness, even the fakers use annoying text language. 
  4. For some reason the 'compliment' was amusing. You message, include a sex focused compliment then actually laugh out loud at it. This is all kinds of wrong. 
  5. The message is clearly a copy and paste. If you're going to approach a woman for sexually untoward reasons, at least customise the damn message (and don't lol at the 'compliment'). 
  6. Dave and Steve are two of the most common English names. Though it is more than feasible that a Dave and a Steve are living in a flat in London somewhere, I seriously doubt that the message is from any of them. At best, the message practically screams fake names and at worst, dodgy sex ring. 

I have no words. This is so unlike me. I'd laugh to hide the pain, if I wasn't bombarded with messages like this all the time. No, I'm afraid laughter will not be possible. Like Elvis, it has left the building. However, I believe I can manage a weakly executed grimace.

The RGF xx

Sunday, 9 April 2017

A long way

Although I gently nod towards the irony within, I find that I've come a long way. I don't feel like I did a few months ago. Nor as I did a few weeks ago. I will never forget my second love but I'm finally letting him go.

This is my progress song. Hidden irony notwithstanding:


Saturday, 8 April 2017

Benedict Darcy Batch

As if my delicate disposition can cope with such imagery. Benedict Darcy Batch! Though I realise he has portrayed the wet shirted Mr Darcy emerging from the lake before, which, I believe, was for an advert. Oh how the Cumberladies swooned. Yet
imagine Benedict as Mr Darcy. Full role. My heart is fluttering out of my chest at the prospect. Swoonathon.

Edit: he was Darcy in the lake for charity. Thanks Google.  


Better still, imagine Benedict Cumberbatch and Brian Cox in the same room, at the same time. Ideally, whilst I too inhabited the time and space. The excitement-a-meter has just landed on explosive. 

Signals


When I spot the signals, I rather hope they'll appear in Gandalf mode - interesting shapes formed from pipe weed. What I'm saying is metaphorical. I'd like a potential romantic someone to send me a clear sign. One that's impossible to miss. I'm not requesting a wisened old Wizard who puffs da 'erb.  I like a beard. Bit of grey within is cool. But a really long beard, fully greyed and attached to a man of indeterminate age, does not maketh my boat float.

I digressed a little for a moment there. I know, I know, so unlike me. Ahem.  In short, I've had enough mixed signals to last me lifetime. Send me a sign created with clarity. The kind I can comprehend from a distance. Also, Seranade me with the songs of Snowmine. I ask but I don't believe I ask for much.

Thursday, 6 April 2017

Syrian gas attacks

Everytime we close our hearts
Lives are lost
Everytime we cover our ears
Injustice is served
Everytime we shut our eyes
Suffering goes unnoticed

Do not let those who place no value on human lives destroy, damage and devastate.
Do all you can to protect all human beings.

Please take a moment to sign and share.
https://www.amnesty.org.uk/actions/demand-justice-victims-syria-idlib-chemical-gas-attack

We must demand justice!

Wednesday, 5 April 2017

Venusian day

I'd like to spend a venusian day with you. That's a rather impressive 5832 hours. Beats a measly 24 hours or, to be more accurate, 23 hours, 56 minutes and 4.1 seconds.



Granted, at this point in time I don't actually know who you are but when I stumble across you, let's have a first date venusian style - hot and really flipping long. But you know, for practical-staying-alive reasons, we'll enjoy said date on Earth.





Tuesday, 4 April 2017

Clay

I might have mentioned this already. Yeah, I've definitely said it a number of times. I'm repeating because sometimes things are profoundly repeatable. Snowmine: They are, as I've uttered, simply incredible. I thank You Tube from the bottom of my internet connection for recommending them. Oh algorithms. I don't know how you configure yours You Tube but I bloody applaud you.

If Snowmine were clay, I'd create, well, erm, yeah, I'd sculpt a boyfriend from their words and music. That person would be flipping mind blowing. Gawd, I wish I was a real fairy.

Xx

Shouting in silence

No matter how loud
I scream the words out
I'm shouting in silence
Lungs trapped in cloud

My words become whispers
Then silence surrounds
Still you don't hear me
This abandon unfound


http://1974haze.blogspot.co.uk/2016/10/dusty-geminis.html?m=1




Freedom: music download

This man does incredible work to help refugees.  He has released a song to raise funds for refugees and vulnerable people.  Please buy the song and share the link.  We can create a better world.  We can bring about freedom!

https://itunes.apple.com/gb/album/road-2-freedom-feat-ahmed-single/id1214974808?ls=1&app=itunes

Sunday, 2 April 2017

Romance?

Is romance dead? Can anyone offer insight on this? From my perspective, which, granted - has been coloured by recent  negative experiences - romance is doa. May it rest in peace.  Perhaps I'm wrong. Or at least temporarily misguided. I invite a change of perspective. May the rumbles of romance roll in.

Xx

Saturday, 1 April 2017

Loop

Some time after watching Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, Orbital's Time Becomes dropped into my mind. Unsurprising really because the concept of looped time is a integral part of the story. 

Without giving too much away, Peculiars hide themselves in loops - a particular day repeated continually. 

If you could repeat a day, which day would you choose? I'd choose the day that my memory repeats on a loop. 




Friday, 31 March 2017

Time travel

Somehow time travel still remains at forefront of my mind. 

If I could ride my thoughts, I would. 


Thursday, 30 March 2017

Perfect brew

Sometimes it would be truly lovely if someone was around, just once a week, to make me a cup of tea in the morning. I'd flipping worship that brew. It wouldn't have to be perfect. Flavoursome. Drinkable. Proffered in a clean mug. But certainly not tea perfection. I'd quite appreciate a cooked breakfast, a back rub and, let's be idealistic, myriad gifts but I'd happily settle for a cup of tea in the morning.  





Wednesday, 29 March 2017

Blame and domestic abuse


Why don't people necessarily recognise when they are in an abusive relationship? Why don't they all leave immediately?

The answers​ are far from straightforward. It would be near on impossible for either a professional or a victim of abuse to give a conclusive answer. Based on my experience of domestic abuse, personal research and an awareness course - these thoughts are a starting point:
  • To acknowledge the existence of domestic abuse in a relationship, we must understand exactly what domestic abuse is. Physical violence is a fairly obvious example. As is rape and sexual assault. Whereas financial, emotional and psychological abuse are more difficult to recognise. 
  • The domestic abuser is often someone that the victim loves. The abuser moves from monster to lover constantly. They manipulate. This does not mean that the victim is stupid, it means the abuser is a master of their art. They were manipulating their victim from day one. They know how to charm. They know how to get what they want. The more sociopathic the abuser, the harder they are to spot. 
  • Once you love someone, it takes some time to unpick your feelings. The victim is trying to recategorise their abuser into someone who is a million miles from the person they thought they knew. This can take time. Whilst the victim tries to make sense of their feelings, the abuser is trying to win them over in any way they can - from declarations of love to suicide threats. 
  • When we love, we idealise. We make allowances for personality flaws. We make excuses for misdemeanours. Yes, even if it means operating in opposition to everything we believe in. It sounds incredulous to suggest that a victim of abuse can accept the abuser's excuses if there has been physical or sexual attacks. But we must remember that the victim has invested in the relationship. The abuser may well be a master of manipulation. They will go to great lengths to hold onto the object of their control. 
  • Sometimes victims are vulnerable upon entering the abusive relationship. They may have physical or mental illness prior to meeting the abusive partner. This makes it easier for the abuser to abuse. 
  • Mothers fear for themselves and their children. The abuser may threaten to kill them if they leave. Escape may seem difficult, even impossible. Remember abusive people seek to undermine autonomy. Thus the victim may not feel in control of their lives. This doesn't happen immediately but over time they may be scared to leave and scared to stay. 
  • Abusers can physically prevent their victim from leaving by restraining them and / or harming them. They may continually suggest that the police won't help. The victim may start to question their own sanity. 
  • Victims often blame themselves. We are taught to take responsibility for our own actions and we are told that their are two sides to every argument. Only the most self-important of people fail to ponder if they might be partly at fault when contentious situations arrise. And abusers blame the victim anyway thus the victim's doubts are internal then reinforced externally. This may be seen as the 'blame trap'.
  • The 'blame trap' supports the abuse. The victim blames​ themselves. The abuser blames​ the victim. Onlookers treat the victim with contempt because they cannot comprehend how they ever ended up in an abusive relationship. The victim feels ashamed because no one wants to appear vulnerable or weak. The abuser feeds that fear. Contempt from other people feed that fear. And so it continues. 
In summary, domestic abuse is multi-faceted. Each person's experience of it differs: the abuser's modus operandi, the victim's back-story, the victim's responses and other factors may contribute.

People think they know exactly how they'd respond to a domestic abuser. They believe they'd recognise manipulation and control as soon as it begins. Yet the reality is quite different, for the reasons outlined above and likely others not discussed here.

As indicated, those who haven't experienced abuse can look towards the victims with contempt. They ask: surely domestic abuse is obvious and boldly suggest that everyone would leave at the first sign of it. This, at best, is a partial viewpoint and at worse both inaccurate and indirectly contributory. Moreover it completely misses the real issue.

As human beings we should seek to educate ourselves on the signs of domestic abuse. We should support family and friends, if we believe they are victims of abuse. Domestic abuse is always unacceptable. Not only does it damage lives, it can end them. Every time we are incredulous towards the victim, we fail to acknowledge the reality: the fault lies with the abuser and a society that allows domestic abuse to continue.


Tuesday, 28 March 2017

The light

We "must be captivated by the light. Always the light" (The Lake House). In the context of the film, the words apply to architecture. How the architect must consult with nature when creating a structure that will stand the test of time.

I think it is light - in all that may be considered beautiful in this world, that must guide us. Not the kind of beauty that is illusionary but the kind that begins at the core and shines upon the world. 

Xxx

Blind

Treat people with kindness. Not the kindness they deserve because what they deserve is subjective.

Basically, we should realise that "an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind” (Gandhi).

Monday, 27 March 2017

Invisible

For some reason, I quoted Kate from The Lake House on my dating profile. Perhaps I was alluding to the soulmate concept, in a vague hope of finding them. Im theorising on this. Doubtless I knew the reason on a subconscious level but I don't recall making a conscious choice. These are the beautiful words “sometimes I feel as though I'm invisible, as if no one can see me at all. I never felt that way when I lived at the lake house”.

Kate lost something of herself when she left the lake house or, if you know the film / book, she hadn't found it yet.  The lake house sat between two worlds and two time frames. In it was her past, her future and the man she was yet to love / loved from the beginning.

As I re-quote her, I realise that I know the words without checking. Many aspects from the film resonate with me but I thought the star crossed lover element had mainly pulled me in. The sense of finding someone at the wrong time - just like Jane Austen’s Persuasion which the film heavily references.  As I recall these words, “sometimes I feel like I'm invisible”, I realise that the truth is far more difficult. It is not merely that my time frame is out of sync with someone elses, it is that I'm somehow invisible. Though I have a clear understanding of myself. I don't feel that I belong here.  Like Radiohead's Creep, I really am a weirdo.

In short, my tribe has very few people in it. In many respects, it's just me and my daughter. The small number of connections beyond family are dispersed through the repeated requirements of adulting. Even though I quite like being different and certainly don't know how to be otherwise - there are times when I'm just a little bit lonely.

Maybe I need to find my lake house or at least the space where my time frame connects up with someone elses. 

Friday, 24 March 2017

The shiny step

I was talking to a friend about domestic abuse some months back. She told me​ a story of a woman who was often injured by her husband. The story took place in a time where ladies on terraced streets kept their front steps clean. The cleanliness of your front step represented who you were. It mattered in the context they lived in. There was a woman in the story who didn't keep her step clean. She was the victim of domestic abuse. One of woman's neighbours commented, in scalding response to this woman's situation "well, look at the state of her step". The implication being that she deserved the abuse. Her husband was entitled to injure her because she wasn't maintaining proper standards. I'll let that sink in. It's an appalling statement isn't it. Though spoken many years ago, similar mentalities continue today.

I had another conversation with an ex colleague about the physical abuse experienced by Rihanna at the hands of Chris Brown. Notably we discussed the heavily publicised attack that left Rihanna injured. My ex colleague said "she probably deserved it". Obviously I was very swift to correct her, once I'd recovered from my shock at her words. The context of the abuse is irrelevant. Unless he was literally fighting for his life (he wasn't) then, no, Rihanna was the victim of abuse. There is no justification. There is victim. There is perpetrator. That's it.

Abusers will utilise every excuse at their disposal to justify their behaviour. Examples will include: I was stressed. You drove me to it. Whispering a threat is not the same as shouting it. I was jealous. I was drunk. I was stoned.  I was joking. You started the argument. You were jealous. I was worried..........

Abusers can be brilliant at disguising their behaviour. They can switch their emotions on and off. One moment they can be calm, the next screaming threats. Life with an abusive person is like dancing on eggshells. You always try to second guess them. Sometimes you recognise the signs of what's to come, which is abuse in itself. Sometimes it comes from nowhere.

There is no justification. Each of the stories above have common themes - abusers who believe they are justified in hurting someone else and bystanders who normalise thus accept their behaviour.

If you believe you are being abused, you are. Leave the abuser. If you see abuse, help the victim as quickly and, if possible, as discreetly as feasible. Only by standing together against domestic abuse will it ever end.

Xxx

Wednesday, 22 March 2017

Awaken and embrace

We know when someone is falling for us. We feel it as a recipient. We don't have the right to drown ourselves in the attention of another because they feel. As we bask in the light they impart, they connect with us.

We are not idols when we carry out a relationship with another person. It isn't a crush from afar. It's the activities of the heart. The lived experience of romantic love.

Words matter. Choose them wisely.

People matter. Treat them carefully.

Don't speak the words of love, unless you're in it. Don't demonstrate it, unless you feel it.

Overall folks, it's what Bob said…...


Monday, 20 March 2017

Easter fairies

The long awaited fairy garden. Our entry for my daughter's Easter craft competition.





PS. When I say long awaited, I mean by me. Slow to complete due to pesky things like sleep, food, work, school etc. 

Snowmine 🦄


"Tell me that you came for me!
Cuz I've been waiting for you.
Tell me you can hear what I'm saying.
Cuz it's a long walk back to town,
And I'm a far cry from the old me.
And I'm a far cry from the old me." 

Snowmine 🦄

Because in the end, that's what we all seek isn't it. The sense that someone completely gets you. Understands your algorithm. A shared language, which stretches beyond words. 

This band speaks to my soul. Nay, they shout to it. Like I'm being called back to myself or something equally mystical. 

Tuesday, 14 March 2017

Repeating 42

Has anyone else noticed that the number on the taxi in Deadpool is 42 and the radio station that Lucy tunes into, on the film erm Lucy, is also 42?

Coincidence? I've said this before but it bares repeating:
Mycroft: "what do we say about coincidences?"
Sherlock: "the universe is rarely so lazy".

I really think Douglas Adams was onto something.

Xx

Every other lover

This.......


.......not constantly. Sometimes foreground and at others just background. I cannot launch myself at love. Everyone has stuff and everyone's stuff matters. Yet when romance comes, this is the level of passion required. As Marmaduke Duke once said "every other lover in the world is just wasting time".

Xxx

The chase?

I have written, and yes, occasionally ranted about the dating etiquette that promotes the traditional gender roles of hard to get.  I've even suggested that maybe I need to play by the so called rules, even though I think them utterly ridiculous.

I cannot comprehend why I ever suggested anything of the sort. I want a partner not a saviour. I'd like to start with balance and improve upon it. How can I do that if I'm playing the role of the feeble female? If I wait passively for someone to snap me up, I'm essentially contributing to patriarchy.

If I'm interested in someone, I'll send them a clear sign such as 'hey, would you like to go out sometime'. If the question itself puts them off, then I too am put off because they are not the sort of person I want to invest in.

I won't settle. I will wait but my waiting will be active not passive. Brace yourself unicorn-Starlord-Deadpool because I'm feeling confident. ;-)

PS. You know when you have one of those ephinany style moments? Well this is one. There are many things that one can and perhaps should compromise on (the ideal height for example). Yet one should never compromise on the self.

Xxx 

Sunday, 12 March 2017

Dates

Dates are reciprocal arrangements. Based on compromise, consideration and effort. Basically, showing up at someone's house with beer or similar isn't a viable first date. It isn't even a date. It's a hook up pretending to be a date.

Men (yes I know I'm generalising) try not to confuse dates with hook ups.

Xx

Wednesday, 8 March 2017

I'll rise




"You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? 
Why are you beset with gloom? 
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? 
Bowed head and lowered eyes? 
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you? 
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? 
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs? 

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
  I rise."


Maya Angelou

Tuesday morning discovery

I stumbled upon these beautiful words via the ways of the internet. I particularly like "I claim the dawn". The inbetween time of the dawn. The end of one, begining of another. http://1974haze.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/perpetual-dawn.html?m=0. 


Endless Tuesday Mornings

"At night I am everything I fear

In the morning I am nothing I can't handle

I claim the dawn

for yesterday is simply what I was

and tomorrow today will be gone.




Emptiness builds a home here

in between hearts where hollows have bred

a deepening sea of nowhere consumes

and eats away at every connecting thread.




A Tuesday to spare

fingerprints on the edge of a frosted 

midnight dream a promise in pieces, so untrue

endless Tuesday mornings going against the stream."




https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/m.poemhunter.com/poem-amp/endless-tuesday-mornings//

International Women's Day: Men, let's do this!

On this day of celebration, this International Women's Day, I would like to shout from the rooftops that women across the globe are incredible beings. 

Every day should be a celebration of women. Yet often it feels more like a fight for survival in a patriarchal world.

There should be balance across the genders. We, the people, can do things to redress the imbalance.This incredible article makes a number of fantastic suggestions.

Let's do this! Men of the world, be a practical feminist every day.

http://www.xojane.com/issues/feminism-men-practical-steps

Tuesday, 7 March 2017

You Wanna Be Adored?


I have been giving quite a bit of thought to narcissistic personality traits. And, as I write these words, my playlist landed on I Wanna Be Adored by The Stone Roses. Coincidence? Doubtful. Everyone, to some degree, wants to be adored. We want to be valued, respected, admired. As human beings, it is absolutely standard practice to desire love and to return that love. It's balanced thus rather marvellous. Yet some of us seek worship. In certain cases, it is an emphatic need for adoration, at the expense of all others. This is the modus operandi of the narcissist.

Unfortunately, I’ve been attracted to quite a few narcissists. Some have been much worse than others. One in particular may well have been a psychopath. This revelation is a little alarming, to say the least.

Why have I chosen men with broken personalities who see a romantic partner as an extension of themselves? How have I failed to recognise such awful personality traits? Am I completely bereft of wisdom? Or, as something of an empath, do I want to make broken people whole?

I believe the latter description holds the most truth. Whilst I certainly don’t suggest that I have attained ascension as a person. Indeed, if I was to say that, Im fairly sure I’d be heading in a narcissistic direction myself. I do believe that I’m fairly self-aware, reflective and emotionally intelligent. I’m definitely too empathetic for my own good. I see the good in people, even when it's absent.

If I think back to every single important romantic relationship in my life so far, each one has been imbalanced. Those I've loved have needed fixing. They haven't all been narcissists (phewy) but not one of them has been relationship ready. Some were still in love with their exes. Others were emotionally immature etc etc. And, as suggested, there have been the men who slid around on the scum of the narcissism continuum. Yikes.

So now I’ve recognised the pattern, how do I fix it? A kind friend suggested, rather amusingly, that I should deliberately choose someone I'm not attracted to. She was joking. Yet there is seriousness to her wise words. Though, how do I choose someone I’m not attracted to? Attraction is the very basis of romantic entanglement. Hmmm, maybe some reprogramming is in order…….

In the meantime, if any of the traits in the following article relate to you, then stay the hell away from me. ;-) Actually, seriously. If anyone is interested in applying for the romantic partner vacancy, narcissistic / psychopathic personality types need not bother. (Moot point alert: because narcissists don't recognise themselves as narcissists. Oh the hilarity).

Fortunately I have an app in my phone which beeps every time I stumble across a narcissist. Ok, I don't but wouldn't that be handy. On a serious note, I think I'm now able to recognise the traits fairly swiftly. I just need to avoid people who are otherwise broken, whilst still retaining my preference for wordiness. Looks like Beyonce's Single Ladies will remain my theme tune for the foreseeable then.

https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/evolution-the-self/201311/6-signs-narcissism-you-may-not-know-about



Monday, 6 March 2017

Is this just fantasy?

I always thought that I wanted a romantic hero. The kind that Bonnie Tyler sung about - yet mighty with the pen rather than 'fresh from the fight'.  Think Shakespeare or John Donne, with their armour of poetry and passion. I, misguided as I was, imagined that some exciting man would one day sweep me off my feet. As they made their fated entrance - violins would play and fireworks would shoot across the sky.

I'm still fond of the idea of soulmates. Whilst fond, I doubt that it actually exists. I'd like it to, of course but all evidence indicates otherwise. Soulmates are, perhaps, a romantic notion created via our human need to believe in something beyond ourselves. It is an ideal. The epitome of romantic love. I blame the likes of Donne for this. Poets grow the idea of romance - like ivy hanging off the heart.

I'd still like a little romance in my life but I recognise its' transitory nature. It would seem that a good match is a good match and nothing more. Sigh. Do bare with me here because I'm unpicking 30 years of hopes and dreams as I write.

Blind faith. That's what I've had until now. Faith enmeshed with all the romantic comedies, poems, love stories and fairy tales that the years have provided. Plus I'm an idealist and a romantic. My belief in soulmates has never been evidencial. Everytime I've come close to near perfect romantic love, it's ended.  Every other time, I've been fooled by charlatans. Thus I have very clear evidence that soulmates are little more than fantasy.

This post doesn't contradict the preceding one. I still want to be wowed with words. This desire is statistically probable because I've been impressed with words before. I have actual evidence of wordy types. Gawd I hope there isn't just one or two men living vaguely close to me that are capable of language - aka a modern day John Donne. Naaaaa. They'll definitely be others. Right?

Gulp.



Xxx



Sunday, 5 March 2017

Words in time

So few men are able to write well or, in fact, write at any kind of acceptable level. I'm told that these things don't matter. Good sentence structure isn't important. Knowledge of poetry doesn't maketh the man and so on. Whilst I recognise that it's important to consider various elements when choosing a romantic partner. Verbal ability matters! Not empty dialogue, words must be matched with actions, of course. But crucially I have to be captivated by someone's words, otherwise I struggle to feel the magic.

I want a person that fits with me and part of that connection is established via romantic language. I can no more compromise on my need for words than I can on left wing politics.

There is someone who fits. It's just time.


Question your connections

Interesting article. If your ex wants to stay friends, it might be wise to question their reasons. If it feels controlling, unhealthy, imbalanced then let them go. Our time here is short. Make your life a positive one.

http://www.theearthchild.co.za/narcissists-and-psychopaths-love-to-stay-friends-with-their-exes/

Thursday, 2 March 2017

Size doesn't matter?

I wrote of the ideal height some months ago. http://1974haze.blogspot.co.uk/2016/10/the-ideal-height.html?m=1. I suggested 6 foot 2ish as the ideal height. This, of course, remains the case. Yet, as previously noted, exceptions are feasible.  Simon Neil from Biffy Clyro being a prime example.  You can't put a height restriction on hotness like that.

I would also make an exception for the fellow described in this blog post. http://1974haze.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/mr-big.html?m=1.  He is still able to send my pulse racing, even though he barely speaks to me. I don't even know why it happens. Pheromones probably and erm beardedness. Unfortunately his interest in me is so completely absent that I have more chance of dating the already married, well known Scottish rocker that is Simon Neil.

Unrequited attraction notwithstanding, in the case of my Mr Big, it is worth acknowledging that sometimes size really doesn't matter.

Xxx

Wednesday, 1 March 2017

A springy step



Today I feel ready to step forward rather than back. Perhaps it's because Spring is approaching or maybe the beginning of a new month is generating a sense of excitement.


I recall reading on t'internet that something cosmic is afoot. It may have been a spiritual alignment of some kind which enables new beginnings. Certainly Spring has long been associated with new life and growth. After the barren landscapes of Winter, Spring places a lot of green into the world. In fact it’s well known for this green making phenomena, which is commonly referred to as flowers and shit.


Coincidentally, or perhaps connectedly, I've recently exorcised one or two personal demons and transformed some loose ends into tidy knots. Furthermore, (brace yessens), I have an overwhelming desire to clean things, which, in itself, must signify something massive. (Note, this is an exaggeration, it's more a sort of low-level desire which could easily be overtaken by a need to sit down a lot).


I do feel inexplicably fresh and clean, much like an OutKast tune. Give me a minute and I'll be shaking my posterior like a Polaroid picture. This may be a step too far, it's certainly way too much for the people standing behind me, ahem, nevertheless, I do believe that I've underlined my point.


Whatever is in the air, it might buggar off as quickly as it arrived, thus I'd better commence operation get fit, new job, personal development etc without hesitation.


See you on the other side…..

;-)


Tuesday, 28 February 2017

Total Recall

Total Recall is on. It's fast approaching bedtime. It's a school night. I must sleep. Yet I repeat, Total Recall is on. Curses.

Petals on his jacket

I keep thinking back the first time I saw him. There were petals on his jacket, from where he'd gotten too close to the climbing flowers. His long(ish) hair cascaded over his striped shoulders. He felt entirely beautiful, in every way.  

We could have been anywhere that night. Everything else was background except us two. Our images were sharp, merged, colourful and almost illuminated. I felt as though we could have lit a thousand cities with the energy between us. 

I would groundhog day that first meeting in a heartbeat. In fact, in memory, I often do. 

Love, 

The RGF xxx

Monday, 27 February 2017

Second love

I discovered some months ago that 17th century sexting is flipping marvellous. I think I found it so appealing because I love language. The combination of sexual  and romantic wordplay became foreplay from afar. Indeed, that was rather the point of it. We both wanted to send endorphins zipping across the miles until we could enjoy them face to face. By Goddess, enjoy ourselves we did, both off and on the page.

As a sapoisexual who is a little obsessed with romantic language, when interacting via messages that are so vast and well articulated that they present as the handwritten love letter - wooing occurs. I don't think my wordy partner wanted me to fall in love with him, in fact I'm positive that he didn't but he did want to impress.  Unfortunately, the former was the unexpected side-effect of latter. 

Essentially, I didn't want to fall but like interactions with The Borg, resistance was futile. There are those who do not accept that love is possible in so short a time. They say, you only fell in love with the idea of him and to those people, I say this: people only ever fall in love with the idea of someone. It's how they seem to us that we love. Sometimes we hold back but if the feelings come, they come regardless. Love is not time sensitive. If you're ready and right person turns up, you fall.

Furthermore this man reminded me of my first love. Something that I've only recently fully realised. The first guy I fell properly in love with, was also fond of poetic language. I recall that he used compliment me in ways I'd never stumbled across before. Comparisons to the pre raphaelites and similar platitudes often fell from his perfectly formed lips. He bombarded me with flowery language.  Most of which was probably nonsense but it was beautiful nonsense nonetheless.  And my seventeen year old self was impressed by him, thus I fell in love without barrier or hesitation. I wasn't trying to hold back. I was inexperienced and idealistic. In certain respects, I haven't changed that much. 

I've been in love numerous times since I fell for my first, yet it wasn't until Summer of last year that I experienced the love I'd long been searching for. Though my Summer romance was brief by many standards, it was a transformative relationship for me. There have been many changes and much creativity since I met that man.  Moreover, I now refer my Summer romance as second love because it's the second time that I've felt it that way.

Here's to firsts!

Here's to seconds!

Yours,

The RGF

Xxx

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