Heard this song while shopping in H&M in my town in January, heard it again in H&M Westfields and was mesmerised by it, spent ages looking for the lyrics - and I finally found the song!
Star xx
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A personal blog to write what I can't say in person. Who am I today?
Sunday, 24 February 2013
Wednesday, 6 February 2013
The Urban Piper - Leigh's Guy
I'm buzzing a little at the moment. Was just told by my personal tutor that I received the highest grade in my class for a uni module. The pass mark was 40, to get a A - well, a 1st - you have to get 70. I got 82! I'm stunned. Pleased, and relieved for having passed what was in my opinion the most challenging module, but stunned.
So, on that happy tone, I am finally - yes, I know - going to post a small bit of The Urban Piper !!!
Actually, I am writing this for my little bambino Nanni (she's not really my child, hahaha! I think she's actually my age) who features in The Urban Piper the adorable Leigh Brian. She attends a Christian school with her socially awkward, equally cute and unpredictably angry younger brother. She's spontaneous, hates the sounds of balloons bursting and likes to say the same things a lot of different ways. (Talking about the character here, by the way.)
Here's a little something I wrote yesterday. I was inspired by her telling me about how she was waiting for this really beautiful boy and feeling nervous about it. He didn't turn up, but I put my own twist on it... (heh heh. Throw Shaire in there some where, and the shit is ready to roll XD )
Star xx
I recognised the hue and shape of his car before I spotted him. Blue’s finger hovered over the ‘lock’ button of his remote car key, but his head was turned, cobalt eyes staring at me and a mischievous smile lighting up his face, one thousand, ten thousand times purer than Fransisco’s. Whenever I saw him, he looked so overjoyed to see me, like I was a heroine or a saviour, and no one I had ever known made me feel so appreciated and happy to be alive, happy to exist. “Hey, Leonita!” His arms were wide.
I laughed and flew at him, my arms hugging him before I had time to remember that he absolutely was not my guy.
So, on that happy tone, I am finally - yes, I know - going to post a small bit of The Urban Piper !!!
Actually, I am writing this for my little bambino Nanni (she's not really my child, hahaha! I think she's actually my age) who features in The Urban Piper the adorable Leigh Brian. She attends a Christian school with her socially awkward, equally cute and unpredictably angry younger brother. She's spontaneous, hates the sounds of balloons bursting and likes to say the same things a lot of different ways. (Talking about the character here, by the way.)
Here's a little something I wrote yesterday. I was inspired by her telling me about how she was waiting for this really beautiful boy and feeling nervous about it. He didn't turn up, but I put my own twist on it... (heh heh. Throw Shaire in there some where, and the shit is ready to roll XD )
Star xx
___
Leigh, my sweet bambino, was pulling her sleeves down over her hands so much that I was certain they would all be stretched out by the time her sweetheart arrived.
We sat on the edge of a small and relatively new fountain erected outside of Pad Mall. Personally my butt was getting cold but I’m sure Leigh’s attentions were more orientated towards every entrance and exit of the mall, and every person going through them. Her eyes flitted like a snake’s tongue.
She’d said they hadn’t officially arranged to meet; rather, they’d met at the mall more than a handful of times by sheer coincidence – or maybe just the fact that it was the same time and place every week, she had Sunday School, he had Karate – and now Leigh was anxious about seeing him, taking extra care to look exceptionally radiant, with faint hints of liploss and mascara, much to the disapproval of the lady who ran the Catholic Sunday school. She actually skipped it today in the hopes of catching him both to and from his training.
I leaned forward until I could see her whole face. “Leigh?”
Her lithe body convulsed, sound becoming electric currents. “You... you don’t have to stay, you know,” she said, hasty words tripping her tongue, a messy and rapid cascade of half-sentences. “You can, you know... you know...” Quietly, she panted a couple of times, looking back at the entrance in case she’d missed something. She resumed, looking at me, “- you know. Scram. Skidaddle. Cut. Bounce. Skip. Roll.”
“Leigh...” A soft laugh left my mouth before I could stop it.
“Depart.” Here came her trademark pause, a short stare, and the inevitable words, “You know. Go.”
“You were with me when I met my guy,” I said fondly, playing with the tip of her spunky hair for a minute. I hadn’t realised she was staring at me until her lock of hair fell from my fingers. “What?”
“So... you and that guy... are you together now?” she said in a hushed voice. Why did her eyes seem to be gleaming?
“No!” I was... well, for want of a better word, aghast. I quickly recalled what I had said and wished I hadn’t phrased it that way. “No, no. I didn’t mean – no, he’s not my type – my guy, I mean, no. We’re not going out. I barely know him, Leeeeigghh, I mean come ooooon,” I laughed awkwardly, tilting my head forward, pretending to scratch it so I could hide my embarrassment. Everyone who’d seen me with Blue had jumped to the same conclusion – it had started with Kitten, where would it end? Although, I could understand why someone would think Blue was just too beautiful to be without a female accompaniment.
“I’m gonna tell my brother,” Leigh said triumphantly sitting up straight “Yep! Imma tell him! That’ll take the wind out of his sails. That’ll wipe his stupid freaking... stupid grin off his face.”
I thought of Russell’s smug smirk, his eagerness to obey Tristian’s every whim. If he really did have a childish crush on me, I didn’t know why he was eager to report to Tristian about me, little worm. Maybe Tristian promised him something.
It finally fell into place.
“Yeah. Tell him.” I said instantly. Fire was in my blood. Why did it always have to come to this between me and Tristian? I felt like calling him up and screaming ‘What the FUCK - ?!’ down the phone and somehow shaking some sense into that twisted guy. Whenever I thought I had the upper hand, I'd realise that he was still manipulating me.
Knowingly, Leigh advised me, “I don’t like that guy you and my brother keeps hanging around with. He seems like a total – mindfuck.” she said, looking somewhat pleased that her parents weren’t here to censor her.
“Yeah, he is.” I scanned the entrances again. “Seen him yet?”
“No,” she said, her voice tiny, apprehensive. I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know what sort of guy it was that she was meeting, and I didn’t want to disappoint her – but in a nutshell, her Sunday school would have finished fifteen minutes ago. If he had been here, he was probably gone.
“C’mon Leigh,” I said gently, easing her up off the edge of the fountain. “My derrière has icicles on it.”
“Can’t we... just five more minutes... ?” she murmured, walking towards the mall.
“Well, you know,” I called, “Your Sunday school would have finished - !” She’d disappeared inside. “Twenty minutes ago...” I grumbled to myself, trudging after her. Past the glass doors, I spotted her making a beeline for this guy in a dorky green hoody, loitering outside of a music store, painstakingly taking his time with browsing. His skin was dark enough for the store clerk to eye him up in case he stole something. I couldn’t believe he'd hung around in here for fifteen-twenty minutes. She gave a shout from about two feet away, and when he turned around his face completely lit up. She looked like she was walking on balloons after that, bouncing with every step. Standing there watching it, it was just so cute that I kinda wanted to blub.
‘Okay, you got what you wanted now,’ I smiled to myself, heading back out of the mall, and the thoughts of murdering Tristian, complaining to Ma, Maine or Anais, or chilling at home with Midnight were circling my head, offering their appeals. As I passed a street running along the side of Pad Mall, something better than all of that broke through my musings.
“Shaire?”
We sat on the edge of a small and relatively new fountain erected outside of Pad Mall. Personally my butt was getting cold but I’m sure Leigh’s attentions were more orientated towards every entrance and exit of the mall, and every person going through them. Her eyes flitted like a snake’s tongue.
She’d said they hadn’t officially arranged to meet; rather, they’d met at the mall more than a handful of times by sheer coincidence – or maybe just the fact that it was the same time and place every week, she had Sunday School, he had Karate – and now Leigh was anxious about seeing him, taking extra care to look exceptionally radiant, with faint hints of liploss and mascara, much to the disapproval of the lady who ran the Catholic Sunday school. She actually skipped it today in the hopes of catching him both to and from his training.
I leaned forward until I could see her whole face. “Leigh?”
Her lithe body convulsed, sound becoming electric currents. “You... you don’t have to stay, you know,” she said, hasty words tripping her tongue, a messy and rapid cascade of half-sentences. “You can, you know... you know...” Quietly, she panted a couple of times, looking back at the entrance in case she’d missed something. She resumed, looking at me, “- you know. Scram. Skidaddle. Cut. Bounce. Skip. Roll.”
“Leigh...” A soft laugh left my mouth before I could stop it.
“Depart.” Here came her trademark pause, a short stare, and the inevitable words, “You know. Go.”
“You were with me when I met my guy,” I said fondly, playing with the tip of her spunky hair for a minute. I hadn’t realised she was staring at me until her lock of hair fell from my fingers. “What?”
“So... you and that guy... are you together now?” she said in a hushed voice. Why did her eyes seem to be gleaming?
“No!” I was... well, for want of a better word, aghast. I quickly recalled what I had said and wished I hadn’t phrased it that way. “No, no. I didn’t mean – no, he’s not my type – my guy, I mean, no. We’re not going out. I barely know him, Leeeeigghh, I mean come ooooon,” I laughed awkwardly, tilting my head forward, pretending to scratch it so I could hide my embarrassment. Everyone who’d seen me with Blue had jumped to the same conclusion – it had started with Kitten, where would it end? Although, I could understand why someone would think Blue was just too beautiful to be without a female accompaniment.
“I’m gonna tell my brother,” Leigh said triumphantly sitting up straight “Yep! Imma tell him! That’ll take the wind out of his sails. That’ll wipe his stupid freaking... stupid grin off his face.”
I thought of Russell’s smug smirk, his eagerness to obey Tristian’s every whim. If he really did have a childish crush on me, I didn’t know why he was eager to report to Tristian about me, little worm. Maybe Tristian promised him something.
It finally fell into place.
“Yeah. Tell him.” I said instantly. Fire was in my blood. Why did it always have to come to this between me and Tristian? I felt like calling him up and screaming ‘What the FUCK - ?!’ down the phone and somehow shaking some sense into that twisted guy. Whenever I thought I had the upper hand, I'd realise that he was still manipulating me.
Knowingly, Leigh advised me, “I don’t like that guy you and my brother keeps hanging around with. He seems like a total – mindfuck.” she said, looking somewhat pleased that her parents weren’t here to censor her.
“Yeah, he is.” I scanned the entrances again. “Seen him yet?”
“No,” she said, her voice tiny, apprehensive. I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know what sort of guy it was that she was meeting, and I didn’t want to disappoint her – but in a nutshell, her Sunday school would have finished fifteen minutes ago. If he had been here, he was probably gone.
“C’mon Leigh,” I said gently, easing her up off the edge of the fountain. “My derrière has icicles on it.”
“Can’t we... just five more minutes... ?” she murmured, walking towards the mall.
“Well, you know,” I called, “Your Sunday school would have finished - !” She’d disappeared inside. “Twenty minutes ago...” I grumbled to myself, trudging after her. Past the glass doors, I spotted her making a beeline for this guy in a dorky green hoody, loitering outside of a music store, painstakingly taking his time with browsing. His skin was dark enough for the store clerk to eye him up in case he stole something. I couldn’t believe he'd hung around in here for fifteen-twenty minutes. She gave a shout from about two feet away, and when he turned around his face completely lit up. She looked like she was walking on balloons after that, bouncing with every step. Standing there watching it, it was just so cute that I kinda wanted to blub.
‘Okay, you got what you wanted now,’ I smiled to myself, heading back out of the mall, and the thoughts of murdering Tristian, complaining to Ma, Maine or Anais, or chilling at home with Midnight were circling my head, offering their appeals. As I passed a street running along the side of Pad Mall, something better than all of that broke through my musings.
“Shaire?”
I recognised the hue and shape of his car before I spotted him. Blue’s finger hovered over the ‘lock’ button of his remote car key, but his head was turned, cobalt eyes staring at me and a mischievous smile lighting up his face, one thousand, ten thousand times purer than Fransisco’s. Whenever I saw him, he looked so overjoyed to see me, like I was a heroine or a saviour, and no one I had ever known made me feel so appreciated and happy to be alive, happy to exist. “Hey, Leonita!” His arms were wide.
I laughed and flew at him, my arms hugging him before I had time to remember that he absolutely was not my guy.
________________________________________
Sunday, 3 February 2013
Looking Back
From Secret Escapes. These images are so therapeutic for me. This looks like a haven...
“The world makes me sick. I also make myself sick. I must seem like I wallow in self-pity every minute of the fucking day.
I guess it's kind of true. Sometimes I think of nothing aside from how revolting this world is. So corrupted. It's as if I am the only person here, even though I am surrounded with people. I can't connect with anybody, and in day-to-day existence, I pretend for an hour or a few hours at a time that I do feel, that I do exist. After that, I don't know what I am.
-- Star ”
I wrote that a couple of months ago.
When I look back at S.K.'s words and I feel so sad for her - me - whoever, all of me and my secret alters. Just to reiterate, S.K. is the 'depressed me'. She hasn't come out in a couple of months. I don't miss her, but I do wonder what happened. That why I was looking back over my 'Depression And Stress' posts.
I don't know if I can call it Looking Back yet, it has only been about a month. So many people have noted how much calmer, happier and jokier I am. They say I laugh so much more now. I've noticed it myself. When I think about it in idle moments, I'm so overcome with relief and gratitude that I came out the other end.
So who am I now? Good question...
Am I back to truly being 'Star?' I think I am closer than I've ever been since I first lost myself. Noriko is back for sure, but I'm surprised to say that Shay's made a few appearances (if making cat noises around the house is any measure, heh). I feel as if I have a good grip on my life at the moment. For that, I am truly grateful. I also saw one of my (my? S.K.'s? Sometimes all the parts of me merge together) old posts from this time last year. I remember I'd listened to The Miracle Of Self Discipline and felt so inspired. Then, a month or a few months later, I just crashed. Nobody could explain what happened to me, why I became depressed so fast and so intensely.
Because that was such a key example of depression going in circles, there is a little fear in me that it will come back. I know that if I stay aware, focussed, and remember that there are people around to help me, I'll be fine. But once when Pixie called me late at night, once again very upset about her personal troubles, I suggested that maybe she was depressed - a lot of what she said sounded like depression to me - and she said with a lot of anguish that (in essence) she prayed to hell it wasn't because depression never goes away.
As she is one of the people who knew about my own struggle with It, those words did make me feel a little offended. After all, she'd also noted the change in me. I get that Pixie was too upset to realise what she'd said and what her words meant - that I was cursed for life.
I didn't know if I should've felt anger or despair. At the time, I didn't feel anything. But I'm not sure I'll be picking up any more late night calls if I'll feel worse when I put the phone down. I have my own life to get on with now.
Star .
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Friday, 1 February 2013
As An Ex-Dancer
[An after-thought/continuation of a previous post.]
I should be more specific.
When I say that 'I don't see myself dancing again', I mean in formal education.
For me, dance is a an expression - most would agree. But studying dance at college killed a lot of the love I had for it. Why should I have to forsake my natural way of moving to get some points on a scoresheet that will eventually give me an A Level, and will just about mean a damn thing in The Adult World? Why do I have to conform to what 'they' (teachers, examiners - whoever, man) want me to do to pass my exam? God, why?
I will tell you something that saddens me. I got a C at Dance A Level. Of all the girls in my class, I was the one who was choreographing in my spare time, I arrived at classes early and left late, I gave Dance A2 more time than any of my other subjects, my teachers and classmates praised my work, the girls who'd so kindly agreed to be a part of it said that they enjoyed dancing my group piece.
But Dance received the lowest grade of all of my A2's. To say that was a blow is more than an understatement.
I was told that (probably because of the tuition fees rising,) grade boundaries has dropped, so everybody got horrendous marks (obviously to make it harder to get the mark we needed for uni.) But it didn't matter. I feel sickened and so, so miserable. All that time, and effort, and eagerness. If I had a passion for Dance, that wouldn't have fazed me, but instead my love of it went down the drain.
I haven't officially danced in two years now, except in my room, in private.
The reason this blog post came about is because Mama began asking me about it. I don't remember how we got on the topic, but I remember getting so upset and angry... and so damn frustrated about it that I just fell into silence and refused to talk on the subject any more. Until then, I hadn't realised that I even felt that way about all this. I thought I'd accepted that Dance was just a part of my life - a phase that spanned 7 years - and that was mercifully over.
And that's fine.
I'm glad I made the last minute decision to not take it at Uni. I was sitting in that Dance field meeting full of horror and fear. I knew I couldn't take that course or I would crack. I already know the limitations of my body, I'm tired of being told what they are, I was just so tired of everything that came with the territory. I'm much happier in English literature.
I know things happen in life for a reason. 7 years of Dance gave me contacts, friends, experiences, self-confidence and creativity in physical form. None of that will ever be wasted.
Star .
________________________________________
I should be more specific.
When I say that 'I don't see myself dancing again', I mean in formal education.
For me, dance is a an expression - most would agree. But studying dance at college killed a lot of the love I had for it. Why should I have to forsake my natural way of moving to get some points on a scoresheet that will eventually give me an A Level, and will just about mean a damn thing in The Adult World? Why do I have to conform to what 'they' (teachers, examiners - whoever, man) want me to do to pass my exam? God, why?
I will tell you something that saddens me. I got a C at Dance A Level. Of all the girls in my class, I was the one who was choreographing in my spare time, I arrived at classes early and left late, I gave Dance A2 more time than any of my other subjects, my teachers and classmates praised my work, the girls who'd so kindly agreed to be a part of it said that they enjoyed dancing my group piece.
But Dance received the lowest grade of all of my A2's. To say that was a blow is more than an understatement.
I was told that (probably because of the tuition fees rising,) grade boundaries has dropped, so everybody got horrendous marks (obviously to make it harder to get the mark we needed for uni.) But it didn't matter. I feel sickened and so, so miserable. All that time, and effort, and eagerness. If I had a passion for Dance, that wouldn't have fazed me, but instead my love of it went down the drain.
I haven't officially danced in two years now, except in my room, in private.
The reason this blog post came about is because Mama began asking me about it. I don't remember how we got on the topic, but I remember getting so upset and angry... and so damn frustrated about it that I just fell into silence and refused to talk on the subject any more. Until then, I hadn't realised that I even felt that way about all this. I thought I'd accepted that Dance was just a part of my life - a phase that spanned 7 years - and that was mercifully over.
And that's fine.
I'm glad I made the last minute decision to not take it at Uni. I was sitting in that Dance field meeting full of horror and fear. I knew I couldn't take that course or I would crack. I already know the limitations of my body, I'm tired of being told what they are, I was just so tired of everything that came with the territory. I'm much happier in English literature.
I know things happen in life for a reason. 7 years of Dance gave me contacts, friends, experiences, self-confidence and creativity in physical form. None of that will ever be wasted.
Star .
________________________________________
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