Rediscovery

Like many things from the time I spent pretty much housebound in 2008 I did not realise I had this blog until I stumbled across it. Now, 2 years later I am on Lithium. I am more 'stable' but so very tired.

I've tried my best to pick up my life but to no avail, I'm a year and a half into my MA in Community Work and have just been turned down for teacher training. I know I'd be awesome at it, kids love me.

There are no jobs anywhere for a new person to the workforce, all training is work based, all work requires experience and work based training. I've tried to kill myself so many times but generally wake up a few days later confused and stinking.

SMILe(Student Mental Illness Lifeline) has been good for me to work on but I come up against so much opposition. I don't see why wanting to help people is controversial.

Writing - I had a scholarship at Totleigh Barton in Devon, it was the happiest week of my life. I almost felt normal and my words were valued. I also took part in NanoWrimo and completed it.

I don't know why I'm writing this. There is no one out there who is bothered. A tiny part of me hopes some laptop god will post me a job, here Amy, here is your new life. Take it, be new.

Oh crap, is that really the time.

I've just woken up and it's 6.30(pm that is!). I had a very stressful day yesterday as I had to go to the doctor then had about 10 hours on my own. I don't like my own company in the least bit. I did some writing for my story when I couldn't sleep during the night. I'm not writing it in a linear fashion, when I get ideas or images for certain chapters I just go and write. Annoyingly I couldn't wake up my friend to get my computer lead so I wrote on the back of a leaflet. I must type it up soon before it gets lost.

Anyway, lets get on with draft 2 of the pants poem I put up the other day! For a dry, witty kind of poem I feel it is lacking in rhyme. Also the line about the destuffed teddy is such a cliche. Also, I feel it needs a new title.

Memories from the Biscuit Tin

Weak squash and a custard cream/fruit shortie
These comforts of my childhood
Now, a remedial dream/remedy
Comfort disintegrates like
the last digestive, crushed in the packet
Stale memories haunt the floral biscuit tin
An omnipresent smell of decay.
I lament, and reach for the tonic, the gin
It was all so much easier back then.

It still has a total lack of a decent form. This may be one to abandon. Still I like the God-like quality of the word 'omnipresent', it kind of indicates faith. The ritual of the remedy having been like a prayer. The flowers on the biscuit tin are designed to contrast with the decay of the reality. Also a pun in the last line, that gin is the new tonic. I still can't decide on the first rhymes, the custard cream one sounds a bit pompous and the fruit shortie just loses any sense of rhythm that there was as it is too short. Also assonantal rhyme just doesn't seem to fit. I should probably regig the lines to get a rhyme scheme as opposed to random rhyme but then I suppose the lack of structure could be helpful to the feeling that everything is falling apart.

Hooray! I'm finally managing to download the How To Write guides from the Guardian, took me forever to find them. Hopefully some of the exercises will be helpful. I've got an email from Danny about a creative 'unblocking' weekend - sounds like cerebral irrigation for creative constipation!

I'm not too good today though, I had to go to the doctor this morning which made me nervous all night. I was sat outside the uni library with my notebook last night while Arkady printed some stuff for me. It feels so much like uni has just spat me out into some awful abyss. I'm glad I had my new notebook with me, it's not a snazzy looking one but it's small enough to carry pretty much everywhere so hopefully I won't lose as many good ideas through my porous memory.

Night Owl

It's 5.44. We stayed up to watch the election results but now everyone else has gone to bed. I did too, but now I am up again. Assaulting my keyboard with a nighttime bout of creative insomnia. I am writing my story. Like baking cakes or painting pictures I find it so much more flowing when I should be doing something else, it used to be revision I was avoiding, now it is trying to get back to sleep.

Photoetry

Autumn

The leaves can flourish now,
Now the sun has burned her glory out, too bright
No jade of envy stems from them
Not jealous of the sporadic clout
Sapping the life of gentle green gems

No, chestnut will triumph now,
When luminous yellow is a memory
Leaking from the delicate pores of gold
As crisp feathers fall from the tree
To blanket earth, abandoned, frozen, cold.

Yay! Just emailed Danny some poems. This is the bravest I've been since I sent in my portfolio to apply to Writing Squad, and then I didn't know the person at the other end of the email address, which is so much less scary.

A Poem in Progress

Ok, here's a rough draft. I'm trying to write such emo stuff so I thought I'd write about daily things like yummy cups of tea, routine and simple stuff. Seems to go into depressed mode quite quickly though. Anyway, here's draft one:

Kiss It Better
Weak squash and a rich tea biscuit
These comforts of my childhood
Are a failed remedy.
Comfort disintegrates like
a de-stuffed teddy at my touch
Stale rich tea memories haunt the biscuit tin
An ever present smell of decay.
I reach for my gin and lament
It was all so much easier back then.

Ok, so, it's crap but I think there is something here I can work with.

Where am I? What day is it?

I think one of the biggest obstacles for me in writing is my health. I'm not capable of being on my own for more than a few hours, so once again I am writing this from Arkady's computer. My laptop and all my writing folders are the other side of the city. At the same time being ill gives me something to write about. I am really aware that I have a different perspective on life to many other people.

A lot of people with severe mental health problems find it difficult to express themselves but this is not the case with me. I want to be useful to the mentally ill community by helping them communicate. Perhaps through documenting my experiences the family and friends of people with similar problems may be able to access some understanding. This is why I want to write: to help.

I did a module at uni called Narrative, Identity and Crisis and we studied a very avant garde book called Spasm which was about an epileptic girl and the problems she faced. It had a really chaotic structure to reflect her disjointed life. I'd like to do something similar with my depression. All too often books about depression are written by people who haven't experienced it themselves and like I say you can smell the chocolate, see the chocolate and read the packaging but you'll never know how it tastes until you take a bite. Hmm, nice analogy there, I should save it to my ideas file on my computer so I can use it in a 'poem'. I think my depression book will have impulsive writing and then reflections on the impulsive writing. I want it to be a useful explanation rather than a 'woe is me' whinge about life. Lists will also ply a major part and hopefully pictures. Art therapy is used for a reason. It is a horrible cliche to say that a picture paints a thousand words but it is unfortunately true. I like to take photos of how I feel, maybe I shall try to upload some onto here.



Phew, this blogging stuff is addictive!