Watching the Sky Dance

With renewed optimism, the pair stood for the second night in the dark, the previous evenings failure buried deeply in the back of their minds.

It was their last chance at seeing the elusive kaleidoscope of colours in the sky, before potentially having to carry home their disappointment like an extra suitcase.

Time no longer seemed to exist, poised as they had been for long minutes that melted, unlike the ice, into hours.

The sky had been the same colour since early afternoon when the last whispers of daylight had floated away with the winter breeze.

Although they were surrounded by other bodies, breathing too in the darkness, silence seemed to shroud them, like an extra layer to keep them warm against the biting cold.

It was only broken by the occasional sound of boots crunching in snow, as the pair shuffled their feet to fight off the cold grip of the hands that kept threatening to take hold of their legs.

Thankfully, eventually, like magic the sky changed.

The moment it did, the temperature didn’t mean anything anymore.

All their waiting had all built up to that one pivotal moment.

The people around them faded into static, they were no longer there, as their lips met quickly so as not to miss anything, in an offering of gratitude and unfiltered glee, under the dancing sky.

It was just the two of them in the whole world, in that moment, completely in awe.

Hands holding on tightly to the moment, fingers locking them together, like it was held between their hands, fragile and fleeting if they let go.

Later, sat in the darkened coach on the way back to the hotel, no words were needed. It no longer felt as though they would ever be sufficient enough again.

I meant to post this Wednesday as an extra little anniversary gift, but true to form I forgot so here it is, albeit a few days late!

W.

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Up, up and away!

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Clinging on to him, even back then.

Today I helped my baby brother move to University.

It still feels surreal even typing it out.

I suppose now that he’s almost at the age of 20, I probably shouldn’t be referring to him as a baby, but I have a feeling that even when he’s 60 I’ll be picturing his big blue eyes and chubby cheeks instead of greying hair and wrinkled skin.

I think that’s what made it so difficult to say goodbye to him, because in my head I’m not saying goodbye to my brother who is now essentially an adult with his own independent will and a strength much greater than my own both mentally and physically (I know the latter part comes as no surprise to anyone, it wouldn’t take much to be stronger than the squishy noodles I have for arms), but instead a little boy who needs protecting from the big wide world.

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“I’m worth what I convince myself to be.”

As briefly touched upon in my previous post, I do now in fact have a boyfriend.

This fact continues to baffle me on a daily basis, and can’t be as shocking to you as it was to my family who had already resigned me to a life of cats and hermitism, which let’s face it is still a very real possibility.

I only bring it up again because I recently remembered a comment one of my friends made when my relationship began. It was something along the lines of potentially writing a post, or making a video (which believe or not I’m less reliable at than writing this blog) about how now I had a boyfriend, I’d overcome my self esteem issues.

I can understand why she thought this was now the case, but after thinking about it for the past few hours (the curse of being stuck in my own company)  I’ve come to the conclusion that if anything, my self esteem is at times even more fragile than it was before.

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“And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”

With the new year comes an increase in gym memberships (at least for the month of January!), so many “new year, new me” posts that I’m surprised my eyes dont get stuck in the back of my head after all the eye rolling I’m guilty of, and people generally promising to be a better version of themselves than they were the year before.

I’m by no means casting aspersions against those that do choose to set themselves resolutions.

I wish I was that kind of person.

In case you couldn’t tell from how sporadic my posts have been this year, and the metaphorical tumbleweed that rolls past whenever I think about my blog, I’m not that great at sticking to goals generally that I set myself, let alone overarching ones that I’m supposed to adhere to all year.

Although I don’t actively have resolutions, there is one thing that I do continue to strive for in all areas of my life, and I’m almost positive I’ve mentioned it before on the blog, and that is happiness.

Before it’s misinterpreted, I am by no means unhappy.

Although 2015 has had it’s moments, on the whole it’s been one of the better years of my life.

I’ve forced myself out of my comfort zone, perhaps not as often as I might have liked, but in pretty big ways.

I left a job that was I was ‘safe‘ in, both in terms of the work and my colleagues who I felt I could completely be myself around without judgement. I thought that I would never find that again and yet I’ve been lucky enough to land on my feet a second time around.

In one of my prouder (and completely uncharacteristic) moments, I put myself out there with a guy I liked and it turns out he liked me too. I don’t want to wax lyrical about him too much as he already knows he’s amazing and I’m going to have to put up with the ego, but he’s added something to my life that I didn’t know I was missing.

I made myself a Youtube channel. Again, it’s perhaps somewhat lacking in the content department, but if you’d told 18 year old Wynona, whose self esteem was somewhere down towards the earths core, that she would have the confidence to post videos of herself on the internet for anyone to see… she’d have probably not said a lot as she was also crippilingly shy, but she’d have thought you were crazy!

My family and friends continue to put up with my madness, encouraging (and allowing!) me to be the best version of me that I can.

And so every year that goes by, I get closer to reaching my ‘goal’, for want of a better word.

It’s almost as though I can feel happiness now, warming the edges of my fingertips as I try to grab it.

With a little more time, I don’t doubt that it will finally be something tangible.

I’m not disillusioned into thinking that work isn’t going to be required in maintaining it, but once I have it, at least that’s a start.

Hug too much. Smile too much. And, when you can, love. – Neil Gaiman

W.

Fear of Falling

I thought I knew what it felt like to be scared.

As the roller-coaster reaches its peak, and the ticking of the carriage climbing begins to slow and eventually stop, my heart falters as I force my eyes closed in terror, knowing the drop is soon to follow.

In that moment I can feel each beat of my heart pounding staccato, like a drum being conducted by a school child, still learning how to keep rhythm and tempo.

Or the sensation of those cliché butterflies, doing circuits around my stomach, as I’ve waited for important exam results and nervously anticipated interviews.

Now as I try to keep hold of something delicate in my hands, I wonder if I ever truly felt scared before.

Words are my currency, I am rarely at a loss for them and yet my mouth is dry, tongue lying heavy with worries I can’t bring myself to verbalise.

I am no longer afraid of what comes after the drop. I know that the ride always comes to an end. The bars that temporarily restrict you are released, and as soon as my feet touch solid ground my fear dissipates into nothing, as though it were never there.

And those butterflies never stay too long. I’ve over thought countless situations where I’ve imagined the consequences to be scarier than they ever could or would be and so they are rationalised away and set free.

I have no guarantee this time that my fears are unfounded.

No way of knowing that everything is going to be okay in the end.

And so, the thought of losing you, and this fragile thing that grows between us is what I now fear the most.

W.

Baby COMEBACK.

*a few bars of piano play as the wind dramatically blows my hair in my face*

Hello… it’s me. I was wondering if after all this time without writing a post you’d still be interested in reading it…

Catchy, huh?

I apologise for my unintentional hiatus.

Don’t really have an excuse.

I just think as per usual I put too much pressure on myself. Not everyone can be like Adele and have their comeback be just as good as their other material.

I am tentatively going to say that there will be more content on the blog.

The new year is scarily fast approaching and so I should probably begin to think about making ‘write something you idiot’ one of my resolutions.

Saying that last year’s resolution was to become a Grammy award winning artist and that hasn’t quite panned out.

Speak soon.

W.

 

The Daily Fail: Volume 5

Let’s be honest, it was only a matter of time before another edition of The Daily Fail.

This week’s was inspired by something that happened today so I figured why not write while the memory was still painfully fresh.

I present to you ‘Girl Harasses Unsuspecting Public

Int. Popular low cost clothing store – Day.

The socially awkward blog owner enters the shop through creaking electronic doors, her less awkward mother by her side.

They converse as they head towards the center of the store.

Only part paying attention now, she begins to browse.

The blog owner, eyes rapt, becomes frustrated as she can’t find what she’s looking for.

“Of course they don’t have them any more.” She says, looking to her mother who she thought had been stood behind her.

She is of course mistaken.

A quick glance reveals a lady who looks nothing like her mother giving her a much deserved side eye as she walks past.

The socially awkward blog owner sighs, eyes now scanning the shop for her actual mother.

After eventually locating her, she explains what had just occurred, only to be greeted with amusement, and not the pity the blog owner was hoping for.

The socially awkward blog owner despairs but is consoled by the thought of finally having inspiration for her newest post.

End scene.

I hope you once again enjoy taking pleasure in my misfortunes.

This is by no means the most embarrassing time this has happened to me either.

I remember avidly talking about Pokemon when I was about 8 to a stranger in Toys R Us. I realised too late he wasn’t my older brother who was watching in amusement from a distance… I could feel the fire burning on my cheeks for hours after.

Ah well, it’s one way to make new friends.

W.

Disclaimer: All characters within the story do exist in real life. I do realise the ‘blog owner’ character sounds like a parody of a human being, but she is unfortunately based upon myself.

Letter to Autumn

Dear autumn,

With each day passing, I feel closer to your embrace.

I see you in the metamorphosis of the leaves, once a vibrant green, now a crisp ochre.

I hear you in the crunch beneath my boots, and as you whisper to me through the trees.

I feel you brush coolly against my fingers, the tips of my ears and the end of my nose, tantalizingly within reach.

I know it’s been a year and plenty of time has passed, but I remain the same girl I was the last time we met, stuck in stasis, unable to change like you do, autumn.

Still seeking comfort in the same rituals.

Hiding beneath visible layers, a scarf, woolen jumpers and mittens, and those that remain unseen.

Those deeper layers, autumn, that keep me company while you’re gone.

They don’t leave, even when perhaps I’d wish they would.

I hope you can take my heavy words, and make them weightless, dissolve them into breath, momentarily seen before dispersing, disappearing, and captured once again within your cool, welcoming arms, I will be free.

Until that day though, autumn, I will wait with bated breath for your return.

Hands and heart both open.

I do realise it is now officially autumn, but I liked it too much not to post, so here it is regardless.

W.

The Daily Fail: Volume 4

This weeks edition of The Daily Fail was inspired by a recent visit to a local art gallery.

I am by no means financially stable enough to afford any of the art work, but I do enjoy the odd browse, staring wistfully at paintings that I might buy in an alternate universe where I have enough money I could bath in it, but I digress.

I present to you: ‘Local Idiot Found Lost In Gallery‘.

Int. Local Art Gallery – DAY

Socially awkward blog owner enters the art gallery, hoping she doesn’t look as out of place as she feels. She meets the eyes of an employee sat behind a desk nearby.

“Am I okay just to browse?” She finds herself asking, shifting her ‘I Bloody Love Books’ bag (which I should now state was a gift) feeling more and more self conscious as the seconds go by.

“Of course!” The employee replies, smiling, eyes returning back to the computer screen in front of her.

With her boots squeaking incongruously on the wooden floor beneath her, the blog owner makes her way around the gallery, stopping in front of a set of paintings in particular that she enjoys.

A different employee is suddenly beside her.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” She tries not to startle before meeting the gaze of the employee.

“No, not really. I came in a few months ago and saw these paintings and were hoping they’d still be here.”

A conversation ensues about the artist which eventually results in the employee to ask if she’d seen the paintings under different lighting. The socially awkward blog owner shakes her head, and watches him pick up the expensive painting and carry it over to a section of the gallery where there are spotlights directed at the wall.

After hanging up the painting in the empty spot on the wall, he proceeds to dim and brighten the lights, explaining how the painting changes depending on the lighting.

He then asks if the blog owner had seen all of the other paintings in the collection to which she replies she hasn’t, and follows him as he leads her over to a large computer screen.

The employee loads up the gallery’s website and proceeds to talk her through pages of artwork, pointing out which ones are low stock, those that are on offer, and the blog owner begins to worry he’s spending all this time with her in hope of selling her something.

It would seem that her scruffy exterior, book bag and squeaky boots didn’t give her away.

Her worst fears are confirmed when his conversation takes a turn.

“Do you have a lot of artwork at home?” He asks. The socially awkward blog owner thinks of the array of posters she has at home, and thinks that they’re not quite what he was referring to.

“No,”

-Nervous laughter-

“Unfortunately not. I still live at home…”

Perhaps she imagines it, but the blog owner is convinced the employee looks crestfallen.

“…with my mum.” She can almost hear a shovel digging into the ground beneath her, and smell the growing pile of dirt beside her.

The socially awkward, non-artwork owning, blog owner feels her embarrassment begin to creep up her back, feeling the evidence of it now on her cheeks.

“Well… I’d better go now.” Her boots squeak again, as if the whole situation hasn’t been mortifying enough, and with that she makes her hasty exit, no doubt leaving behind a very confused/bemused gallery employee.

End Scene.

Well, it’s safe to say I won’t be going in there again any time soon.

The man was so polite and helpful, I wish I’d actually had money to spend in there after all the effort he went through talking to me.

I don’t think the commission from a painting would have been enough compensation for putting up with my attempts at conversation.

Please try and make me feel better by giving me examples of times when you’ve made a not-so-hasty exit?

W.

Disclaimer: All characters within the story do exist in real life. I do realise the ‘blog owner’ character sounds like a parody of a human being, but she is unfortunately based upon myself.

Me, myself and I.

True to 22 year old Wynona, my first blog post as a 23 year old is somewhat overdue.

To make up for it though (or to give you all nightmares, you decide) I give you my first ever YouTube video *insert crowd noises here*.

It’s a bit awkward, but that’s apparently my aesthetic.

If I thought sharing my blog with people I knew IRL was scary, this is a whole other level altogether.

Go easy on me.

W.