Apologies my loyal three

or is it two now?

I know my posts have been few and far; life is a demanding mistress.. or master or husband? I don’t know, but while I untangle my cliché, here’s a youtube offering in apology. I will be back with many words soon. None of them wise..

Or I may just go watch Toy Story.

Enjoy..

 

TOP FIVE BEST TV THEME TUNES OF ALL TIME

5. Child of the 80’s giving her age away.. Amazing when you think about it – advertisers, producers, pay heed. This little girl was addicted to the grey vixens of Florida. I didn’t entirely know what sex was and I definitely didn’t know anything could sag or droop.. .. You really don’t need pert pecs to hold an audience. (and I still know all the words)

4. How low is your opinion of me? This might send it over the edge.. Yep I used to want to wear those clothes. I drooled over that custard yellow jumper, I practiced the moves, I fancied her brother and even wrapped a scarf round my head and pinned plastic daisies to it..

3. We may never escape the 80’s. But so what, pull up a stool, have a pint. At least your somewhere everybody knows your name.. ( 😀 ) the cheesiest lines are proven to be the hardest to resist. Near impossible when you are posting after midnight.

2. But then came the 90’s.. I realise this seems so cheesy now, but hearing it even now, makes me feel all misty eyed and bubbly inside. This was my university. We used to save up to buy the videos.. This is the theme to every hangover I ever had. This was the theme of my life…

1. This was a close call, but this is one of the most haunting and beautiful pieces of music I’ve ever heard. I’ve picked songs that transcend simple theme jingles.. but this is more than even that. Its an introduction to a tragedy..

And because I cannot end on a sad note and also because I couldn’t possibly not have this in my list. But whoever heard of the top six list?.. okay. this is a top six list, just shhhh.. 😀

How we kill creativity

I was in my early life the perfect student.  As such my parents were looking forward to what could only be a cruise through high school. But something happened. Not drink, drugs or boys – I was possibly the only truant who skipped school to write sonnets.

My issue was difficult to explain but let me try – I didn’t have time for school. See, hard.  I knew from a young age what I wanted to do – and it didn’t involve maths. I wanted to write. I could endure a few maths classes, I couldn’t endure devoting my head to three hours homework every night – when could I write?

I’m sure I am not alone. Dance, music, football. Engineers. Entrepreneurs. Politicians. Social Workers. Life is such a varied thing, why is education, our preparation, so narrow?

Ken Robinson explains it in much better depth – and he’ll make you laugh. Promise.

http://new.ted.com/talks/ken_robinson_says_schools_kill_creativity

Ten ways writers can waste time on the internet

.. while fooling yourself into thinking you’re being productive.

Hide in phone

stuck

but instead of a kid, do it yourself and send it out when you’ve hit rock bottom – when friends phone back in a panic tell them the only way to set you free is to buy a copy of your recently released ebook. Don’t forget the amazon link.

Life stalking on Pinterest
The glossy pictures, the shiny teeth, the worn floorboards.. I worry about how much I want those floorboards.. And that chair, I must have that chair.. How can I write without it?
desk

Research.. think you know the basics? Still, you don’t want a comma to come between you and your inevitable greatness

Depress yourself by checking out how good everyone else is

Feel smug at how bad everyone else is

Slushpile Hell

Find out where you sit in the pantheon of genius..

I write like

testing it by scanning in the yellow pages and seeing if Joyce comes up.

Find out who the hell Palahniuk is .. and then just admire Pitts abs..

Search for inspiration

Feng Shui your writing space so that success can find you (its like homing beacons to carrier pigeon only they don’t bring disease they bring Booker Prize nominations) You may need to remove a wall or build a fence, but handily you already have a yellow pages to hand.

Write an article on ten ways to waste time on the internet

Ten things I’d never have known without the internet

 This peculiar and utterly unique feeling, something akin to permanent chicken pox.

An itch that can never be relieved ….wrong

That penguins are multi skilled as well as illegally cute..

penguin

That two people I know had tuna sandwiches for lunch

That knowing two people had tuna for lunch makes me want to eat tuna now

That no matter how boring that might make my life sound, someone out there wishes their life was this interesting

bored

6 That a discussion on that versus which can generate over 300 posts, the last 100 of which consist mostly of one word,  which is neither that nor which..

punch

7 That as a woman I am deeply insecure

vain

8 That the cat has been taking the piss for years

cats

9 That no matter how stupid you think you are someone out there is always worse

poo

10 that I may be broke, unimportant, too polite to ever not let someone cut in front of me with a tight smile and muttered obscenity, that my bikini bod may be a swimsuit and sarong bod, my boss may patronise me on a daily basis but at least I am not this man..

worser

where do you buy tippex these days?

vintage-pink-typewriter

I want!

I’ve always loved typewriters. Its the closest I will ever get to fulfilling my ambition to become Jessica Fletcher. I found one once, broken and beautiful, rusty gold, with keys that descended deep into inky bowels. My fingers would be like Popeye’s after only a haiku…

Can’t actually use them – the tippex required to deal with my wayward typing would be the toxic straw that broke the world. And think of the poor forests. I needed a podium beside my librarians ladder and Jumpin Jack Flash giant toothbrush, but I don’t have the space.

I can still dream though. Found this site – the Grand central reserve of typewriters. For this image alone I love it.

danlooking400a

I deal in typewriters sonny, any kind ever bin, ever will be, aint nothing I aint got. I’m Mr T. What you gotta say about it?

Check it out..

http://mrtypewriter.tripod.com/index.html

The Hidden Truth of the Camera..

I often think of photography as being somewhat similar to writing, in that it is something a great many people think they can do, without research or study. They pick up a camera, power up the laptop and imagine themselves living the slow montage life of pensive pouts and late coffee-filled nights…

Then you see something like this..
craig ….My homeland seen through the lens of Craig Easton’s camera. Even I didn’t know it could be so beautiful. The colour, the light, the composition.. all seems so simple, until you see a master at work..

If you want to feel like you’re in the sugar plum fairy outfit your mum made standing in front of the X-factor judges, horror on their faces,  then might I suggest you…

Check out his website 🙂 And let him show you how it should be done..

http://www.craigeaston.com

And yes there goes another wall in the dream house…

craig5

I think I will put it in the breakfast room (yes I will have a room just for breakfast) I’m not a morning person, I need something this serene to ease me into the day…

Take a break..

The-Worlds-Largest-Deckchair-2Am away on my holidays, suitcase packed, nicely sprayed up to a Robinson’s orange. I thought about getting the flatmates to tend to things while away, you know, feed the fish, post to the blog, but I’m not sure I trust them with the fish…

So… adieu…I’ll leave the world’s largest deckchair as a place saver 🙂

Living inside a rainbow..

Santa-Marta-Ghetto-Rio-de-Janiero

Just wanted to share this. I think it is amazing. I’m no expert on poverty or third world issues, but beyond the politics of it all something beautiful was created and I do believe very strongly that our environment, specifically visual environment, has a strong influence on our happiness.

Maybe its the artist in me, maybe its being the daughter of an engineer and dreamer. I was raised on building sites, I climbed ladders and scrambled across open joists to get to my bed. I had a tree house built into the eaves of my bedroom, a little trap door accessed by a rope ladder that let me clamber through the innards of the house.

People say write what you know, where you came from, I say I can’t, its too much like something you’d read in a book..

Maybe it is superficial. It wont stop a bullet or put food in bellies. It won’t educate. But it might just inspire. That seems like a good place to start.