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littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (SQUEAK! (credit - minkhollow))
I am a relieved moose. My piece of performance poetry (working title: "www.idontgiveafuck.net") went down really well at group last night :D And today I was out with Kate - we went for coffee and to plan out what we'll be setting for the week we take the group. Yes, we're all taking a class each this term, last night was David's week, and Kate and I are sharing a week in a fortnight, I think... but we had so much fun we ended up staying out for lunch, and not really getting that many ideas down :D

Things are moving so well at the moment... I feel like I've got this new sense of optimism, things don't seem as dark or hopeless as they did just a little while ago.

Long may it last! :D
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (kermit [credit: sdwolfpup])
I caught the train today.

We planned it last time, but I didn't want to say anything in case it all went to shit again.

But it didn't.

And I got the train home too, rather than wimping out and getting the bus.

Jaqui talked incessantly (mostly about the westlife gig she was at last night in Belfast) but even so, I still managed to get though it. Even though I've not slept for the last three days.

I am very chuffed!
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (get a room!)
Remember the cousin whose computer I am always being called round to divest of spyware, diallers, trojans and such? I was round there today doing the usual (complete with the usual litany of 'don't open the email attachments!' and 'you have to UPDATE the anti-virus stuff, plus it helps to let it run, you don't click cancel when it pops up!') when they were just settling down for their daily three hours of soaps.

So they were arguing about Neighbours while I was doing my thing, and right at the end these two girls kiss. It was quite sweet, you know, very shy and stuff... And I'm sitting there thinking 'wow, Neighbours has come a long way since I last saw an ep!' when the three girls start making 'yuck' and vomiting sounds and booing. Did the parents tell them off? No. In fact the mother turns the channel looking very disgusted.

*sigh*

I'm guessing I got my genes from the tolerant side of the family, for which I can only be eternally grateful.

Still, one funny thing - the general rabble was still going as Coronation Street started, but in the adverts before there was a trailer for the new series of SNT - of course, my head perks up and M (the middle of the three girls, she's 10) shouts out, "Shut up, it's Ant and Dec, Joanne likes them!".

Hehe! I liked the trailer, right enough, the one where they're waiting for the show hotline to ring, very cute.

But I can't help thinking, does this mean it's ok for me to have a threesome with Ant and Dec... as long as I don't consider snogging any girls from Austrailian soaps? ;)
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
Hello folks! I'm home, and god was it good to sleep in my own bed last night! (Yes, I know I said I'd see you all Monday, that was deliberate, I knew I'd need Sunday night to take it all in, and I did.)

So... Friday. Everyone got soaked on the ferry over, but spirits were still high. Luckily David, Kate and I were all in the same place, the camping barn (lovely, lovely, lovely cottage, and the beds were so comfy!). Unluckily the barn was four miles and several excruciatingly steep roads away from all the action, and there was only one bus down and one up a day. 10am and 1am. Yeah.

Anyway, there was a bloody funny one act play by the Rathlin amdram lot, Lemn Sissay performed in the Marquee (amazing) and we all got a little bit tipsy (apologies to anyone I might have texted *blush*). Then we went to the pub. And wasn't that surreal. If anyone had told me last week that myself and three of my good friends would be sitting in a pub sharing the craic with Colin Bateman and Lemn Sissay I'd have thught you were off your rocker.

So, back to the barn and to bed (and the less said about the drunken twat who came in at 5 and kept everyone awake for the rest of the night, the better, except to say that he found himself moved the next day...)

Saturday. The workshops started at 10 and first up for me was Lemn. Oh my god... I've never been in a workshop like it! Everyone came away with a poem each, and it's some of the most polished work I've ever seen come out of a workshop situation. I'm really pleased with mine, I can't believe it was less than 45 minutes writing. It was lovely, after we talked for a while, Lemn suggested we all just go off somewhere and work on our poems, and as Saturday's weather was a lot more pleasant than Friday's, I went and sat on the harbour wall and wrote looking out over the sea.

When I went back in, he came round to look at them, and I handed mine over, saying I was a bit unsure about one of the lines and how it sat. He read it, and was quiet and I thought 'oh, crap.' and he just looked up and went "Wow. Life is good!"

He read my poem out! :D

Kate got the same kind of reaction, which I was really pleased about, as she is just an incredible poet.

After that, lunch in the manor house - good food, good company... lots of lovely new friends I really want to see again.

After lunch I went to buy postcards in the shop, but it was closed. Bizzarely, it was open on Sunday, but I didn't get the chance to go, since Sunday was very hectic, so I'm really sorry if I promised you a postcard.

I was booked in for short stories after lunch, but the workshop kind of fell apart - I think everyone was a bit tired - so I went for a walk instead. Rathlin's amazing, in Church Bay, at the harbour, you could almost be anywhere, but the rest of the island has this sort of otherworldly barren beauty about it (arrgh, cliches! but it's true...) no matter where you go, even if you can't quite see the sea, you can hear it.

Then the new Writer's chair was unveiled on the beach. It's a huge carved stone chair, with a verse written specially by Seamus Heaney inscribed on the front, and the names on everyone who's taken a workshop at the festival on the back, with plenty of room for the years to come. Colin Bateman read his new short story for us in the marquee, which was hillarious, but he was competing against the now increasingly severe weather, and at one point there were fears the marquee could collapse. Or possibly take off, which seemed more likely.

Because of this, the concert was held in the back room at the pub, where they usually have a sort of cafe set up. It was a bit of a squeeze, but the atmosphere was great. Kieran Goss was an absolute hoot, what an entertainer! And he's a lovely guy.

Sunday then. Bus was late, and we were all panicking, beacuse there were rumours going round that the 11am ferry would be the only one going, because of the storm conditions. Turned out not to be true, thankfully. Last workshop was poetry again, Kate Newmann this time. Wow. I thought we were all productive in the last one... I got three done this time, and a whole heap of other ideas I'd like to go back and look at again, and most people there were the same. David came up with an absolute corker.. and all this and we even managed to get round everyone and read everything out.

Then there was an open mike session in the manor house - they managed to get me to read, in front of everyone, which I'm really proud of, and everyone laughed in all the right places too!

And then, hugs and goodbyes and the ferry (wet again) and too soon, back home.

And yes, it was a little craggy island-esque, the landlord of the pub (who is also the bus driver) had a fair bit of father jack about him!

I'm glad I went. I had a whale of a time and I proved a lot to myself - not just about my writing.
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (crumbs chief!)
My gear for Rathlin arrived in the post yesterday - programme, Kieran Goss concert ticket, very offical-looking security pass style nametag thing with my name, writers' group and such on the front and my accomodation details and the times of the workshops I'm booked in for on the back, map of the island and travel details and such.

I've been booked into the Camping Barn (bottom of the page) which is not a barn, but a very pretty little cottage hostel-type place on the wild, nature-reserve side of the island - I feel a little jealous of those staying in the harbour, but it's nice to be so close to the bird sanctuary - I'll be keeping an eye out for the famous puffins :D

So yeah, I've been looking out my sleeping bag and my holdall, getting all my bits together, debating over what pens to take (but what if I lose my good one?) - packed my new Piglet notebook (thanks, dad :D) and a rather large lump of good wishes from glasgow (thanks, you two :D).

And yet...

I wasn't at the Gig on Sunday. Saturday night's concert was a blast, just like Friday's but with this Friday's ferry ride to Rathlin looming in the near distance, my body started to rebel on Sunday afternoon and I spent the day in a panic-induced fever being fed paracetamol and having my temparture taken. A lot. Bloody adrenniline surges. Still, dad managed to get DC to do the concert with him, and he said I'll really enjoy Kieran Goss on rathlin (he asked me to pick up his cd for him at the concert, so that's a good sign :D) so that sort of took some of the pressure off. Maybe I was doing too much, but I really hate the way my body tries to sabotage me whenever I'm trying to do something a little bigger than I've done for a while. I've not been sleeping and I've been feeling ill - dry retching, the usual - I'll be sick as a dog on Thursday night, I know it, but I also know that when I get home on Monday, I'll wonder exactly what I was so worried about. And I'll feel proud and relaxed... until the next time.

Still, I suppose that Melanie and co think I'm ready for this is a big leap... now I just have to prove them right.

Plus, I cannot cannot CANNOT!!! miss Lemn Sissay's workshop... I can't believe he'll be there - I can't believe I'll be there, with him there!

Plus plus, I've just been to Kieran Goss's website, and having heard some of his stuff, I can't miss him twice! :D
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
I. Can't. Fucking. Sleep. Again.

Someone, somewhere, is having a good old laugh right about now.

Incoherent insomiac-type brain-clearing post )
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (roosevelt)
So today I dismantled the last remaning parts of my childhood. We cleared out the loft, and I finally found it in me to throw out the toys, comics, teeny magazines and other childhood remenants that were mouldering away up there. The books have gone to oxfam, the comics to the dump - they were too damp to do much with really - and everything else just went in the bin. Well, I did keep one old issue of Smash Hits from 1994, because it has an Ant and Dec pic that is begging to be scanned.

All the old toys went too. It's a shame really, because most of the dmage was incurred as a result of being stuck in the loft. So they've gone. Apart from my dolls house, which my grandad bought and painstakingly refurbished - seriously, he bought beautiful wallpaper offcuts for each room, stuck down pieces of carpet, and proper slate and brick paper for the outside, it still looks a treat. the day that gets thrown out is the day I'm not on the planet to stop it.

It was quite funny seeing my old Big Yellow Teapot again (an original too, not one of the late 80's re-issues!). It was one of my favourite toys as a preschooler. I think the teacup chairs were so cute, not to mention the sugarbowl car ;) The family were long gone though... I think they were reappropriated as pieces for a game or something.

I also found a folder of all the shit shit shit poetry I used to write as a teenager. Honestly, I was so emo I'm surprised no one ever dropped anything heavy on me. Mum refused to let me throw it out though, saying I'd thank her for it one day, so it got sealed up in a big polybag and it's going back up there, with a warning note attached that contents 'may induce nausia, and a need to seek out and maim the poet'.

Dad and I were just coming out of Tescos this evening when the first of the summer storms hit. Hot day, cool rain - gorgeous. It was fantastic, coming home through the steam and the rain, with the smell of hot, wet earth heavy around us and good music on the car radio. It was just one of those moments where everything is right.

*happysigh*
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
Read more... )
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
What a day.

My appointment was at four. So at five to four I present myself at outpatients reception, same as usual... just for the befuddled receptionist to inform me that Head Honcho doesn't have a surgery in the hospital on Tuesdays, I should be in the psychiatric unit. She gave me long convoluted directions that took me past the morgue only for me to wind up in the psychiatric ward. Not the nicest place in the world to be when you're feeling fragile. There was no-one there - doctor wise - so I made my way back out to the cafe, collected dad and set him on the receptionist. Oh, no you're actually supposed to be at the mental health centre a mile back out the road, (even though the letter said HOSPITAL) so sorry! So off we trot... to get there and find that the hospital, who said they'd let them know we were coming, didn't, and Head Honcho had gone to the psychiatric unit... back at the hospital! So we went back to the hospital, and, after discovering that I couldn't have got though to this part of the hospital from inside anyway as the inner doors are kept locked (reassuring... not.), found him... and he increased my dosage by half a tablet daily.

Life is wonderful.

On the plus side, I was very decadent, bought two macroons, and two issues of this weeks radio times (one Ant cover, one Dec cover...) yes, I know, very sad! I'll read the Dec cover and keep the Ant one ;-)
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (roosevelt)
I want you to tell me the story
Of the Cherokee man
You once knew.
How he brought new
and exciting presents
For your sons.
A Mickey Mouse watch.
Bubblegum.

I want you to tell me about
Motorbikes and fairgrounds.
About the roar of the crowd
And the thrill of speed.
About being so far
Ahead of your time
No-one could catch you.

I want you to tell me
About second chances.
About a tall man with
Kind eyes and a quick mind.
About a houseful of children.
About love.

I want you to
Tell me about Belfast.
About O'Hara's baps you
Had to eat with both hands.
About watching your
mother make lace.
About the people on
your street.

I want to take back
All the times
I didn't sit and listen
Because you were old
And I was young
And impatient.
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
Dad is baking downstairs. Wonderful smells permeate the house. I love the sound of the electric whisk, it holds the promise of delicious treats to come.

So Belfast yesterday. We parked the car at dad's work and got a bus into the city, which is much cheaper and hassle-free than trying to park in Belfast. It was absolute bedlam... imagine me, with my propensity for panic attacks in exposed spaces, and my dad, who is claustrophobic and hates crowds, trying to navigate Belfast city centre on the last Saturday before Christmas. Boots was the worst, you could barely move. I got knocked over twice by lanky idiots who don't consider anyone under 6 foot worthy of their notice.

Lush was the best. Crowded, but not mad, and well, it attracts the sort of people who aren't going to knock you flying then leave you. I bought an atrocious amount of pampering goodies (hey, PMT, it's allowed!). Used the tisty tosty last night, and now I have rosebuds on my desk. They smell amazing, rose scent all through my room.

I heard there's a Forbidden Planet in Belfast now, so we went looking for it, but it must be down some wee side street dad doesn't know (and those are rare) coz we didn't get there. We did find the Ann Summers... the teddy bears... with the... *giggles*. I told mum about those and she damn near wet herself laughing!

Disney store of course... dad talked me out of buying a Stitch that was on sale :( "The last thing you need is another stuffed toy" Well he has a point I guess... *glances at EC teddy mountain*

What else... no, that's it. Not much, but it's all about the getting out. And I survived. The crowds, the bus, the deviant teddies - I did ok. Couple of minor wobbles, but nothing major. It was a real triumph, because the last time I was in Belfast at Christmas, was the time I had my first panic attack, and collapsed on the train home. So I'm proud of myself.
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
So, last night wasn't bad at all. I actually had fun... we went into Ballymena, and pottered around in Camerons for a while. One odd thing... we got onto the relationships thing (she's married with three cats) I mentioned a messy breakup, and she asked 'do you still speak to him?'. I didn't correct her, but I felt shitty about it...

Had a minor wobble in one shop - panic wise - but all in all, I did really well, and we're doing Coleraine in a fortnight.

You're a goregous supportive bunch, thanks :-)

Gah... I've got the Election Coverage on in the background, and it's bloody depressing (and yes, Piglet, I did vote, Dad took Mum and I up to the school last night - he doesn't vote). It looks like we're going to have an MLA living in the village, but as he's Sinn Fein, it's nothing to be proud of.

Surreal image of the year on the UTV coverage, big Ivan Little (he's the big reporter they keep showing on TV Nightmares having trouble with the word 'phenomenon') being grabbed by the lapels and shaken by Ian Paisley :S

*sigh* The radical parties have all gained votes... and the SDLP and the Alliance Party have suffered... and it looks like the Womens Coalition will be lucky to scrape a seat or two (hoping for transfers...)... What's going to happen to the agreement if the Assembly turns into a catfight between Sinn Fein and the DUP?

Anyone want to come rescue me?
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
This is a pretty graphics heavy entry, so I'm LJ cutting it for those, who, like me, are on 33K dialup ;-)

Look at me! I'm published! )
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
Melanie the occupational therapist was here today... unscheduled visit, more about that in a mo. We went through some more of her factsheets, and made plans for her to take me into town in a fortnight as a kind of halfway step to going in by myself.

After she went mum cornered me, wanting to know if she'd talked to me about the whole long term 'where is this therapy taking me' thing. No, was the short answer. Boy was mum pissed off... you see Melanie was here early because mum phoned her a couple of days ago to tell her that I was down and depressed about the whole thing, Melanie only arranged the visit yesterday. I'd told mum as much when I got a little down about it a few weeks ago. Before I would have been pissed off about her going behind my back, but I understand that she wants to help, and I appriciate it. I guess what worried me a little is that their whole priority seems to be getting me out and about, and little else. Melanie said to mum, that dealing with that was the final thing, the whole end piece, and she'd have a word with me today about what the whole thing entails.

She didn't. It took mum to tell me why she was even here in the first place.

I'm always left feeling a bit breathless by her visits, if I'm being honest. It's not that they're fast, she's usually here for about an hour... it's just that she sits and tells me all this stuff, and gives me all these handouts... and a lot of it I already know, but I'm damned if I can even get a word in to say as much...

And I'd just like to know what filling in all these worksheets and survey type things is going to do for me. It's not as if she's getting information, it's all 'for your own use, I'll just leave it with you and let you look over it in your own time'.

Mind, if it gets me out and about on my own without having a major panic attack, I'll not mind... it's just that that isn't all that's going on in my life... and I'm not even sure about the rest of it... oh I dunno, maybe I'm expecting too much.
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
The editor of the writer's group book called today... deadline is Friday and all is going well! I can't believe that I'm going to see myself in print before Christmas!

On the subject of things literary, nano's getting closer - and I'm still dithering about whether I actually want to do the tv show plot, or the fantasy plot. Ah well, it'll all come good.

Melanie was here yesterday, so far so good, getting near the end of the first leg with her... after the next session she's going to concentrate on taking me out... getting me used to getting out and about without dad to lean on. But at least she'll be there.

It's funny the way I get down after she's been sometimes. You'd think I'd be boyed up, feeling I'm doing so well. I guess I just worry and that's not ever going to change, I'll always be a worrier.

I've got a backlog of unanswered email sitting in outlook. Sorry. Most of it's from Lyds.

Ever feel your life's a Salvidor Dali painting?
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
I've got a lot of conflicting thoughts rattling round my little noggin at the minute. Some of them I'm reluctant to put down, because I don't want anyone to worry about me (I'm ok, it's just the way my brain works sometimes), some of them, I don't even know how to articulate.

I'll have a go here, and see how I feel )
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
I've just got in from a lovely walk. Dad decided that what I needed today was to get out of the house. Turned out he was right.

His bright idea was to go into Ballymoney in the car, and go to the Riverside Park for a bit of a stroll by the river. We discovered that the park was a hellish lot bigger than we thought, despite having been there lots of times before. There are lots of paths and trails that take you practically into the town centre, without ever leaving the cool serenity of the park confines. It even crosses over to the other side of the road, via a footbridge under the railway bridge, without even hinting that there's a main road just above.

There were lots of people out walking their dogs, people feeding the ducks and the pigeons, and lots of people with small children had brought them to the playground in the middle of the park. We kept bumping into the same family - dad and two girls - all out on their bikes. Reminded me of dad and me doing the same thing when I was little.

We discovered a little winding trail through a small wood, that crisscrosses over the river several times and took it, just chatting away about nothing in particular, and feeling a bit awed that something so unspoilt and beautiful was hiding right in the middle of Ballymoney, of all places.

Dad bought some ice cream on the way home, and we drove with the windows down and the radio up.
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
Everything always seems easier by candlelight.

I have a tealight candleabra on my desk, it's nice to write longhand on paper by candlelight after dark. All that's lighting the room now are six candles, the monitor, the slight red L.E.D. glow of the emergency light's 'charging' signal, and the faintest glow of streetlight through the curtains... orange, white, red.

I love the rich mixture of shadows against the walls, deep rich black hollows, little creeping phantoms that flicker with the flame, long spidery shapes against the walls.

I come alive when everyone else has gone to bed.

Calmer now too, but then I always am in my own company, with candlelight and soft soothing music.

I need to find a job that lets me work from home, then I can keep my own hours and enjoy the darkness!
littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
The subject title is the sound of me severely injuring my pride. I fell off a swing.

Yes. A swing. You can stop lauging now.

It's a nice day, so I though it was a waste to sit indoors and read, when there's a perfectly nice park over the road, with swings for the sitting... so I was happily reading my book when I thought I'd take a break at the end of a chapter, and swing a bit... hey, it's childish, but it makes me happy, so don't knock it. Anyway, long story short, the wind picked up, knocked the book from my grasp, I made a grab for it, forgetting I was mid-swing at the time, and did a rather athletic belly-flop off the front, landing flat on my front amidst the woodchips and rubbish.

Grazed my hand, thumped my head and shattered my pride. Thankfully, no-one saw!

Maybe that's a sign I should grow up?

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littlemoose: A photograph of a vivd blue swallowtail butterfly against an orange stucco wall (Default)
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