Month: August 2010

Words and Wheels

I’ve been away from the computer for the last few days.  Away from the computer, but not without my notebook.  I started writing the lines that make up this post while on the train to Glasgow on Thursday.  I like trains, and I love writing while in transit.  Something about the rhythm of the journey colours the words, knowing that that there will be some sort of evidence of change from beginning to end. I’ve loved notebooks for as long as I can remember.  Lined ones, because my hand-writing without them was, and still is, a bit wayward without them.  My childhood heroes were:  my Dad, my Grandmothers, and Harriet The Spy.  After I read the book, I started recording my life in notebooks of my own. The first journal I remember keeping started on another train journey, in Norway, when I was seven.  The home for that journal was a green and white marble composition book that I still have.  It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen in my long years.  In it wrote about my first fishing trip, and a dance, and a pizza with too many vegetables on it.  At the start of that trip, I was a kid.  By the end, I knew I was someone who wouldn’t be happy unless she was writing, or travelling.  Preferably both. I moved on...

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The Hazel-Eyed Quite Nice Person

OK, I am going to admit something here.  When I was single, I was quite jealous of people in relationships.  Not bad relationships, because who has time for that?  But the good, solid, heart-melt relationships.  I have a boyfriend now, and he’s quite lovely.  So lovely in fact, that I would be jealous of myself if that were possible.  Even though it isn’t, I am a little bit.  I asked him if I could write this on here, and he said yes.  See?  Lovely. Since we’ve established that I’m a little bit jealous of myself, I’ll admit something else.  I’m on a roll, here.  I’m a little bit jealous of people with jobs.  Not in an I-feel-sorry-for-myself kinda way.  More in an I’m-very-enthusiastic-and-I’d-like-to-work kinda way.  People have asked me if I work, and if I like my job.  I’ve liked all the jobs I’ve had, yes.  And I’d like another one now. I’m not very good with boredom.  I used to think that boredom didn’t exist.  Or at the very least, was invented as an excuse for people with no imagination.  I was wrong. I do a lot of things in the name of ‘research’.  (For my writing.  Though maybe not this kind of writing).  Everything is research.  Life is research.  I go to parks, I go to movies by myself in the afternoon, I have dinner in restaurants...

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Ink from my notebook…

I am restless.  Before sitting down to write this I played Mafia Wars three times, brushed my teeth twice, drank two cups of coffee, ate a bagel, turned on music, turned off the washing machine, did some laps around the house, thought of poems I’ve written about procrastination and wondered if this is another one, turned the music off and sat down to write this.   The above word-splurge is what happens when you can’t leave the house because you are waiting for a workman to come and fix something in it, and actual ink from my actual...

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True Confessions of a Book Addict

When I started this blog, oh so long ago, I wanted to post every day.  At least until it became a habit.  But I have another habit.  No, it isn’t collecting job-application rejections.  It’s reading.  More specifically, it’s books.  Actual page-and-ink books.  I have a lot of them.  I try not to dog-ear the pages or crack the spines, but I read them.  Well, I’ve read most of the ones I have. When Borders was open, I practically lived there.  It is a known fact that being in bookstore lowers my blood-pressure to the point of Zen.  It doesn’t really matter what bookstore we’re talking, but Borders had a special place in my heart, and there was one close to my flat in Glasgow.  And so, I was there a lot.  I have this thing where I cannot leave a bookstore without buying a book or 3.  I’ve amassed quite a pile of unread ones, because I can buy even faster than I read.  It isn’t about the buying, it’s about the books.  I’m just as greedy in libraries.  Or with friends who say, ‘Here, read this!’ Remember the list-that-this-blog-isn’t-about? Item 10a. would be: Read all the books I’ve left unread/people have thrown at me. Sounds simple.  Until we get to 10b.: Do not buy another book for myself until 10a. is checked off (except The Girl Who Kicked...

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