Saturday, 22 January 2011

juggling with strawberry ice cream

one minute you're having an interesting conversation with an old friend you haven't seen in ages and the next minute a rather interesting idea pops into your head...
my little theory revolves around the art of The Juggler.
i believe that all human beings may be placed, very carefully, into two categories; very simply, people who juggle and people who don't.
The Non-Juggler:
there are some of us out there, who like things to be grounded, who take comfort in knowing that gravity will not disperse, that they won't wake up one morning to find all their belongs floating above them. They may look fondly at the books on their bookshelf, pleased that if ever they should need to know how to cook a vegan green tea cupcake then that little pearl of knowledge would be right there, in vegan cupcakes take over the world nestled between it's cookery book brothers. they may have a favourite chair, they may like to sit in said chair and make a thorough list of what groceries they need before enjoying a walk along their favourite path into town. they might enjoy wonderful, inspiring trips to amazing places because they always take the time to plan their route. they may get huge satisfaction when things, simply work, when things run along smoothly, and as expected. they may look at you with a smile and ask why would they need to juggle? what if it went wrong? why risk it? there isn't really a need to juggle anyway, is there? their coloured balls are in a basket, kept clean and safe, incase they are ever needed.

The Juggler:
then there are some of us, also out there, that might always take a different route to the town, because they are confident that they will get there, one way or another. they are not necessarily gamblers, in fact, they probably aren't, they don't throw the balls into the air without knowing, for sure, that they can easily catch them. they might prepare a back-up plan, if one ball slips from their grasp they could bounce it back off their foot. they might always want to be moving forward, perseverance making them exceed previous attempts. they might not try on clothes before they buy them, instead they may simply decide that they like it, and then wear it. 
they throw the balls into the air because they know they can, they may watch others watch and gasp and they may wonder what all the fuss is about.

the crazy thing is, everybody is capable of juggling, there isn't some genetic condition that stops one and enables another. and thats where The Grey Area comes into it. because of course, nothing is black and white, so how could there be Jugglers and Non-Jugglers without Apprentice Jugglers.

The Apprentice Juggler:
some of us may have a favourite chair, but one day decide that another chair may be better, so they may buy it, and sit in that chair every morning from now on instead. it might work out, it might be that that chair is indeed far better than the one before, but then again it might not be, they may not be happy with the new chair, and want the old one back. 
The Apprentice Juggler keeps the juggling balls in their pocket at all times, sometimes they may throw them into the air catch them, and sometimes they might fall onto the floor, but they throw them up into the air anyway, always hoping for the best.

well, that was what was mumbling through my head this evening, it might not make sense, but at least now i can stop thinking about it and go and make a coffee.
so, how many Jugglers/Non-Jugglers/Apprentice Jugglers are out there?

Friday, 21 January 2011

two years ago, whilst sat on the floor of my tiny flat in brighton, my legs aching from where i was squished in between the sofa and the bookcase and my hair scraped back into a bun perched on top of my head, i embarked on my latest craft idea; i was going to crochet a patchwork blanket. i remember my excitement at the thought of having my very own homemade blanket, it would be placed over the bed to be looked upon with pride admiration. 
well, it's two years on, and my excitement has faded somewhat since that first patch. however, as i stitched the last stitch the other day i stood back and smiled at my completed blanket, all those little squares joined together in unison to protect the backseat of my car (percy). 
i now want to knit jumpers...hmmmmm.

Monday, 17 January 2011


i wana build my perfect world,
i'll start with a scrapbook and a stack of magazines,
i've found my perfect orange tree that blossems purple flowers,
and the purple turns to gold and crimson, depending on the hour,
i'll cut out skies of pinks, blues and yellows,
they will make my sunset,
a warm milky gold over melting liquid meddows,
my rain will fall as silver glitter,
tracing patterns over rooftops,
in this world i will have no need for an umbrella,
i will dance through the streets with nothing on my feet, 
and hope and wish that the rain never stops.

Thursday, 6 January 2011

can't wait to smell that paint

sooo, it was my lunch hour and i'd just stumbled into costa coffee...
it was really snuggly and cosy and warm and just so perfect for curling up on their oh-so-squishy sofa's with a good book such as Juliet, naked. i stood staring at the fruit and oat biscuits, and then the ginger biscuits before concluding that the 6th of january was far too soon to break my 'must eat less sugar' resolution.
i walked on and then stopped when i reached the counter, smiling weakly at the man behind the counter.
man behind the counter- "hello! how are you today?" 
(i now like to think of myself as a 'regular', or 'a local', i have a costa card that lets me collect points and the guy behind the counter knows my order so i don't have to tell him, i'm pretty sure all that addsup to the title of 'a regular'.)
me- "i'm good thank you," nodding my head and glancing at the board, which as we've established is a pointless gesture, i know it, we know it, the guy behind the counter knows it. "how are you?"
man behind the counter- "yeah i'm well," he smiles before tapping on the till screen. "the usual?"
me- "yes, yes please," another pointless glance at board.
man behind the counter- "large americano with soya milk?"
me- "yes."
man behind the counter (even though i call myself a local i still don't know the man behind the counter's name, i mean what kind of local am i? ok, for my own sanity we'll call him frank.
frank- "had a good day?"
me- "yeah, yeah, bit tired today though."
frank- "tired? whys that then?"
me- "i've worked3days in a row this week."
frank- "what?!" he then proceeds to tell the girl clearing plates on the nearby table what i just said. the girl clearing plates laughs and waves her hand at me in a 'oh you're so funny' gesture.
it was at this moment that i realised i'm really not cut out for 'proper work'. 3days serving at a stationers and i'm wiped out, completely dead on my feet and the costa people think thats funny, or maybe they thought i was joking, because, lets be honest, 3days of work isn't really that much.
i didn't have the heart to tell them that my 3days of work was my complete working week. instead i informed them of certain facts about france and how much french people work.

so, that brings us back to the present. my little lightbulb moment in costa is part of the reason i'm very much looking forward to tomorrow; an entire day of squirrelling myself away with a stack of paint, ink and a shed load of paper...proper 'work' worth doing. 
much love

Monday, 3 January 2011

makes me smile

the resolutions

number one
i will eat less sugar and eat more lettuce 

number two
i will be brave and stop muting the woman on my pilates DVD and instead listen to her words of wisdom as she shouts them at me

number three
i will save enough money to get the tattoo i've been mumbling on about since i walked out of the tattoo studio the last time i was in there

number four
i will paint more

number five
i will write more

number six
take belly dancing classes

number seven
begin making fabulous cushions

number eight
drink more, because i'm young and full of youth and at worst will receive a few tuts. much better to do it now than to wait until i'm old to fall out of pubs and fill my shopping basket with spirits, then people will stop tutting and start eyebrow raising and there will be talks of 'secret alcoholic'.

number nine
live. because, quite simply, i am alive and should never forget that small fact.

well then, after writing these resolutions i suppose the ideal thing to do would be to start them. 
this one is the first of a quiet little book of drawings with even quieter words.

this is just the initial sketch of an idea, and hopefully similar idea's will stumble into my consciousness soon.

happy resolution making.

Saturday, 1 January 2011

so, 2010 has come and gone, just like the year before that and the year before that. i'm not really sure what i had been expecting to happen, but every time the countdown starts i suddenly wonder if the singing blur of people will stop when they get to number four or three, simply stop counting and return to their drinks, the band won't announce the new years arrival and people won't hug and kiss and shout sweet drunken declarations of love. there will be just a quiet nothing, along with the quieter realisation that life isn't about to change, and that things can skip along as usual. but that didn't happen, i sang along with them as we danced ourselves into the new year; laughing and screaming, full of hope and drenched in the dust of a million new born stars. we could have been anywhere and anybody; it didn't matter, it didn't matter that my feet were burning from the peep toe heels and the embers of the last year that was already fading and being forgotten. it didn't matter because the new year was here, full of everything i wanted it to be, kind of like a magic present; bright silver wrapping with the most perfect bow and inside there's anything, anything you imagine and want and it's there, right there in front of you!
this morning, i did not, as i thought that maybe i would, jump out of bed with new found enthusiasm and attack the world with new idea's. i did however stumble, bleary eyed from my drunken stupor, across the living room and drag my bruised feet upstairs and into the bathroom. but it wasn't all pain, as i stood staring out of the window whilst brushing my teeth i watched the wind blowing the trees on top of the hill and i did feel that the world looks different somehow, more disheveled, as if waking from a deep sleep. and as i tied yellow ribbon around giant trees and fussed over the dog getting mud in my car i found that i had a happy bounce in my step.
wakey wakey world, i promise this year is worth walking up for.