publishing

Reflection.

I look into the full length mirror, looking completely crestfallen and exhausted I study myself. Hair hanging over my face as if the life had poured out the ends, eyes flickering between hopeful and defeated, I thought whether or not I could face another day. This thought warmed me inside to know that this day, thankfully, was over. I begin to remember the headache which haunted me earlier only to realise it never actually left. Now with a thumping head and steadily weakening legs I turn around only to be met with the impossible.

My reflection.

Clothes torn and tattered, leaning to the left suggesting the right has been injured and panting as if he’d ran for an extensive amount of time.┬áThere he was, standing there, staring at me as I was to him but with a fire in his eyes that mocked my own defeated hue. He wasn’t finished.

“You…did this. To me, to us.”

And in that moment I realised this day was far from over.

There’s another snippet I felt I was ready to publish here, let me know what you think. This and anything else similar are simply ideas for now, I enjoy playing with certain images in my head, enjoy!

Advertisements

Struggling with the past.

It happens when I’m in bed, it’s late, the mattress slips away and suddenly I’m falling. It’s not normal, gravity doesn’t act the same way, I’m suspended by resistance as if held there, yet descending towards an almighty abyss.

Parts of my life loom below to be observed and reflected while falling, further, further into the spreading darkness. I’m forced to relive these moments, falling through the branches of the tree that is memory. Branches of events growing into consequences and ending in colourful finale as they flutter and detach into chilling emptiness.

In rehashing these moments I can interact with the version of myself unaware of the future. Shake the naivety out, quash it. I find myself changing, aware of what I was, what I can be, and I realise all of these windows into my past have to happen the way they do, if not I wouldn’t be the same person I am now. Right now, in this moment, I live these over and over again like a bird taking flight only in accepting they will eventually have to land again.

Just a bit of creative rambling this time, hope you enjoyed it. Just splashing little snippets of writing here and there to see what I can do so let me know what you think! This is just what stuck out.

An arts course…what are you going to do with that?

I’m guessing the majority of arts students dread the question “What exactly are you going to do with your chosen subject?” and I can confidently say I am part of that majority. This is when the verbal waffle-irons heat up and I talk my way out of a rather awkward situation.

Well, actually, you see, there are many career paths I can progress towards when I finish my four years of study. Such as, you ask? Well…

Jobs are hard to come by, I do understand, the economy isn’t in great shape. However, I still think arts related careers are as pertinent, if not more so, than they’ve ever been. In the past few years I’ve gotten to know several people who are successful in what they do creatively, they’re an inspiration, to be truthful. To see someone making money from genuine hard work is rather refreshing after hearing about yet another banker’s spending scandal.

I have plenty of ideas of what to do when I finish University, as many of us students do. Blogging for example, I’ve toyed with the idea of making money from blogging for years, partly why I’ve started again. That doesn’t mean it has to happen, but writing something is always motivational towards the end goal of somehow making money from the words I tie together.

The current goal, is to get published in print. Be it for a newspaper, a magazine, or a fully fledged novel in the future. I want to be able to hold my own work in my hands having had it approved and sent off by someone else who is willing to stand by it. Reading just makes me want this more, to think every novel or magazine I hold is a perfect testimony to the fact that it happens, people get published every day and millions of books are put into print. If their dreams can come true, why not mine?

I was in a lecture a few weeks ago and the man speaking was analysing a poem (a rather beautiful poem at that) to eventually reveal he was the poet behind it. We see careers possible from an arts degree every day, I think we don’t realise until it’s pointed out exactly where the work is. Even the most simple of things like an advertisement on the side of a bus, someone had to come up with whatever words are strewn across it, meaning someone got paid for that.

So when someone asks me “what are you going to do with that?” in that snarky ‘I’ll have fries with that‘ tone, it’s so obvious to me what I want to say…the words just aren’t there due to surprise that it isn’t obvious to everyone else.