It flutters
like a caged dove
beating feathered wings
It stirs,
a shining light beneath
a calm, silky ocean
It strains my lips
they pout, and move
silently, then they smile
Someday,
it will escape, to fly and soar
amidst gasps and incredulous joy
But not just yet
for now, it is mine
and his. Alone.
Can the worst four years of your life also be the best four years of your life?
I would have said NO… if I hadn’t lived MY life. If I hadn’t been me. And if you hadn’t been you.
These past four years have been a dream and a nightmare. They have been both heaven and hell, a hell-ride and a joy-ride.
So many things have happened, to both of us. I moved three times in three years, which was very stressful to say the least. I cut all ties with people who had abused me, injured me, manipulated me and betrayed me all my life. I left my old life behind, and became someone I didn’t know I could be – someone free, someone happy, someone healthy. That was very difficult. I had to leave behind all my comfort zones and become an adult.
And you were there.
Through it all, through the fear, and the tears, and the uncertainty, you were there. My one ray of light. My hope. My love. My strength.
You were there for me every step of the way. Just as I was there for you when your dad died, and then again when your mum died, just six months later. Just as I will always be there, no matter what.
4 difficult years, but also 4 years of discovering what being in love really meant. 4 years of enjoying your company, 4 years of loving you and having fun with you. 4 years of experiencing new things with you. 4 years of living daily with you and knowing you as no one else does. 4 years of you knowing me, the new me, the real me.
Oh and there were also 2 work-related promotions, and a myriad of writing commissions – PAID commissions ofc (started earning money as a freelance 3 yrs ago). Not to mention the orgasmic joy when we purchased our house, decorated it, and settled in it, to name but a few. And what about all the fabulous holidays, experiences and adventures together? So much to mention… too much for it to fit in here. Hehe…
4 years – it seems like so much time has passed, and yet, the feeling of looking forward to seeing you, the fluttery excited charge in my heart each time you smile that sweet naughty smile at me, the way my heart bursts whenever I look into your eyes… are still the same as the feelings I felt 4 years ago.
And they will never change.
There is currently a trend of everyone to create their own ‘Facebook page’ lately. Facebook pages are usually a way for artists or businessmen to market either their talent or their products. Restaurants have Facebook pages, as do shops and designers. Painters, singers, writers and dancers have pages. Many people, from VIPs to actual nobodies (who nonetheless wish they were ‘popular’ apparently) are all the time sending an ‘invitation’ for ‘likes’ to all and sundry, as though the more ‘likes’ you had from the people out there, the more you valued yourself.
Well, I am a published writer. I write for a local magazine, a local newspaper, and a Russian historical website, and even though (unfortunately) writing is not my main job, it is a very special part of my life. Writing has always been my passion and I always wanted to become a writer of books. For now, I have merely contented myself with selling articles freelance, but the best is yet to come ;p
Anyways, some time ago a friend asked me how come I did not have a Facebook page, when even people who did not provide any product, information, or service had one, merely to appear ‘hip’.
I provided a product and could market my talent through my Facebook page – so why didn’t I create one? Simple – I DON’T WANT TO!
Personally as a writer and as an individual, I feel that I have many facets to my personality. One or another of these facets may appear in one article or the other, or they may not. The point is that I am not just that. I am not just a writer who writes articles about relationships. I am not just a writer who writes about historical castles and battles. I am not just a world-traveller with a travelling features column on a weekly newspaper. I do not want to be defined by these things because I am much more than that. Also, I put too much stuff about me online as it is!
Don’t get me wrong – I like posting pictures on Instagram, comments on Facebook and (sometimes) an extra informal article, like this one, on a blog, HOWEVER I feel that there are also hidden depths to my consciousness which are impossible to define, and therefore ‘collecting’ all of me on a ‘page’ is not possible and makes me feel uncomfortable. Kind of like giving presents to one’s stalker. (And believe me I’ve had stalkers in the past and I know what I’m talking about).
So, no i DO NOT, and will never have a ‘Facebook page’. That is, unless I publish a gazillion books and my manager and PR decide to upload one for my fans… but that’s another story ;-p
Allo?!… Allo?!… YES I’M STILL ALIVE!
Truly, I haven’t written anything on my blog in such a long time, and I am kind of ashamed of myself. The usual story applies – I was too busy! Ah but, you ask me, too busy doing what?
Well first of all, after me and my other half bought the town house (or maisonette actually), we started the job of refurbishing it. True – it was supposed to be ‘finished’ in Real Estate jargon – meaning that there were ‘perfectly good’ walls, a roof, a kitchen (which I must admit, is swell), and two bathrooms, and we could just move in with our furniture in a jiffy. Well, guess what? It actually wasn’t.
First of all we had an electrician check out all the kaboodle. Needless to say, we found LOTS of stuff that needed doing and changing. Even had to dig into the walls in some places. Secondly, we got a plumber and checked out all of that too – after a while we realized that almost every piece of plumbing we would come into contact with on a daily basis, needed to be fixed too. The shower nozzle and the flushing in the main bathroom had to be changed, the ones in the ensuite had to be changed as well, as did a couple of taps. Last, but not least, last week the kitchen sink got blocked. When we changed the pipe and poured down some sink-clearing acid, this fell through the pipe, threatening to spill everywhere and corrode furniture. We managed to clean it, but for now we cannot use the kitchen sink at all, since the plumber is currently abroad… achhh it never ends.
Electricity and plumbing aside, we hired an Irish guy to paint the whole house, because quite simply, it was terrible. Not only were the walls not sanded and so quite rough, but the people who lived there before us were, apparently, colourblind. Would you believe that each room in the house was painted a different colour? Each room represented a colour of the rainbow, I KID YOU NOT!
So, the stairs leading to the main entrance were blue, the living room was dark green, the kitchen was light green, the main bedroom was red, the second bedroom was pink, the third one was purple, the main corridor was a weird salmon colour, and the washroom on the roof was orange!!! It took us almost three weeks to get the darn colours out!!! Of course, we did not do the painting ourselves, since we have no experience in the field and while an experienced painter took 3 weeks, we’d probably have spent 3 months trying to figure it out… and it was difficult for the painter too! Some colours, like the orange, just wouldn’t come out! He had to paint the same washroom 6 times for it to disappear!!!
In the meantime, although we were not the ones painting the place, we took time off from work, and when we actually did go to work, ferried ourselves straight to the new home afterwards. We already have some furniture (not to mention all my books) there, as well as a new 55″ T.V set already installed, and to be honest, though the painter seemed like a nice sort, we did not want to leave him alone with the stuff. Mostly though, we realize that certain workers/mice tend to take long ‘breaks’ when the cat is away… so, better safe than sorry.
To cut a long (very long) story short, the paint-job is now finally done. We also ordered a lot of furniture, the main bedroom, and the parquet flooring, which should be delivered next week. Let’s see how that goes.
The most stress-inducing issue of them all however, is the Maltese mentality. Why? Because every time one needs some kind of works done, or some kind of service, even though one is offering money, one has to literally chase said manufacturer/furniture store/woodworker all over the place. You call him a million times only for him to tell you to go talk to him in person, then when you actually do, he either tells you he does not provide that kind of work, or that he needs to come to your place to verify the measurements for a simple quotation. Later, he forgets he had an appointment and does not come, so you call him again. And again. When he finally comes, he’s late, takes the measurements, and tells you he will ‘let you know’ about the quote later. A couple of weeks go by and nothing. You send emails and call some more. Until finally he calls you back and tells you the store is on shut down for the summer months… OH FOR FU**’S SAKE! And this is not an isolated incident – it’s EVERYBODY!!
How the hell can I not be irritated? So many setbacks just because people do not want to earn money and do their actual job!
Anyways, yes – this is what I have been doing and where I have been. There is much work to do yet, but we are, very slowly, getting there. I had hoped we’d move in before leaving for our ten-day holiday to Wales in September, however at this point, I doubt it very much…
Still, I believe all of this will be worthwhile in the end. Our ‘Castle’ will be just the way we want it – a refuge, a haven, a dream-house – I can’t wait!
My most recurrent problem with writing has always been that of writing too much. I guess there are just too many words flittering and skittering in my brain. This was an issue when I wrote essays at school (they were always too long), when I wrote my Bachelor of Arts dissertation (which exceeded the word count set by the University board) and when I wrote my Masters dissertation (which I spent months trying to shorten, while most of the other students couldn’t make ends meet).
This may sound like me bragging – but it really isn’t. When it comes to writing, I believe this consists of three parts. First, one must be a reader. One simply cannot be a writer, if one does not know the world one is delving in. Most importantly, how can one handle the written word, if s/he hasn’t encountered different examples of how it can be used again and again? Secondly, technique (which is where flash fiction comes in). A writer should be able to navigate through the sea of words and meanings, and steer herself clear in order to arrive wherever she wants to go. This means that if she sets out to write up to a certain word count, she must know how to economize and use her writing skills in order to do just that, and stop the extra flow which is mostly only frills.
Thirdly, of course, a writer sees the world like no one else does. She sees the world with a thousand eyes and none. This is what is called ‘imagination’ by some, ‘inspiration’ by most, and ‘dreamland’ by others. But that, of course, is another story.
Flash Fiction, also called Micro-fiction, are short moments in time, or very short stories, described by a writer in a few words. Flash Fiction is usually something which happens in one single act. Opinions differ on how long a flash fiction story ‘should be’, there being markets for works as short as 100 words, up to 300 words, or even as long as 1,000 words. There are also many competitions, especially online, for writers of flash fiction.
Flash Fiction is fun, economical, easy to write, and is really good for ‘flexing’ one’s mind, so to speak. It is also quite good for exercising one’s stream of consciousness approach. Having limited time, but an infinite amount of words waiting to come out, I have decided to post some of my flash fiction stories from time to time, and maybe letting my ‘dreamland’ suffuse my waking moments… and make them more interesting.
‘In movies, knights in shining armour are the order of the day. Be they the metaphorical knights in love stories, who save damsels in distress from semi-perilous or uncomfortable situations, or actual medieval knights jousting during festive tourneys or challenges.
Real war however, is very different. Actual knights during medieval times were war machines. They were men trained to kill, men trained to obey orders, men following a cause. Training to murder someone in the name of honour is a paradox. At least, that’s how we perceive it in this day and age – when the death penalty is a subject which promotes controversy, as are issues such as suicide and euthanasia. At the time, it was the most common thing in the world however – something which, I think, people of our age can never fully comprehend. That is how much the concept of killing has changed.
From the youngest age, Maltese children are all taught their historical background as Maltese citizens at school. We are told about the glorious Knights Hospitallers of Saint John, who came to Malta after battling in the crusades, and established the different auberges in Birgu and then in Valletta. Most importantly, we are taught about the Grand Siege, when the Knights and the Maltese battled against the Turks, who wanted to invade our islands. These are our roots and it is what we are made of. The blood and the sweat of those who fought in the name of freedom, will never be forgotten. And yet, do we really know what that means?
Yesterday, I started researching and reading a bit about the Order of Saint John in Malta, and I remembered certain things which at the time, did not seem important to a child’s mind, but which now have different connotations. I read and remembered that they are the oldest Order of Knights still in existence, that they were rivals with the Order of the Templars, and that while they were in Malta, since a large percentage of their income had been reduced for a number of reasons, they turned into smugglers and corsairs, that is pirates who raided Turkish towns upon the coast of North Africa, and then sold the plunder they took.
Knights turned pirates, warrior monks battling Turks …’
This article is original and copyrighted. Want to read the rest of it? Please visit –
http://www.eve.com.mt/2015/02/08/knights-in-shining-armour-do-they-really-exist/
Thanks!! Would be interesting to read what you think about it too. You can comment here or on eve.com
Today my bf and me started that big and overwhelming adventure that is – HOUSE-HUNTING.
Ever since I’ve been small, I’ve dreamt about having my own place. A hole in the wall where to hide away from the rest of the uncaring world, a palace to design and buy things for whenever it suited my fancy, a tree-house where to store all my favorite things in the world.
Although I’m aware that the house/maisonette/apartment/whatever we buy in the end will not be perfect, and will definitely not have ALL the features I desire it to have, I’m also aware that some things are achievable with time. For example, if there is no fireplace, one could be installed, if there is no parquet flooring, I could save up for it and install it as well. Budgeting here is the key. I think the important thing is to buy somewhere spacious which has the POTENTIAL of being all that one wishes… and then move on from there.
Saving up and changing color schemes or knocking down walls. creating windows or apertures or shift bathrooms around… that will come later.
Here’s a short list of all I’m looking for in a house. Some of these things will have to be there before I buy it, some of them are do-able later. I hope, in time, to get them all. The sky is the limit ;p
1. A cozy study where to enjoy all my books and obviously, write
2. One of those awesome writers’ desks in mahogany with a lot of little shelves and pigeon holes
3. A fireplace or stove
4. Parquet floors
4. A big kitchen
5. A combined affair of little shelves, tailor-made, to put all my herbs in
6. A window seat in the main bedroom (preferably)
7. A 62 inch T.V
8. A big veranda or yard for my yet-to-be-bought owl and bbq set ;p
9. An old style rocking chair
10. Wrought Iron Chandeliers
After four years, yesterday I re-watched the animated movie ‘Paprika’ (2006). This Satoshi Kon masterpiece had always remained in my mind as one of a kind in its genre (that is, anime movies), and my perception of it did not change after re-watching it.
Apart from the plot-line, which is bewitching and exclusive in and of itself, the characters are wonderfully mysterious, yet with understandable motives and feelings, and, most importantly, the graphics and colors, apart from being unusual and perfect for the dream-sequences pertaining to the storyline (which, in fact, concerns dreams), are vivid, yet in a way, horrifically nightmarish. The theme of the hellish circus is captured perfectly, and wonderfully juxtaposed with the clinical and cold atmosphere of the labs. The soundtrack is also exceptional – in fact this was the first animated movie to use a VOCALOID – that is a singing voice synthesizer software.
What entirely fascinated me apart from all this (yes there is MORE) was the double and split identity of Doctor Chiba, whose dream-self is the sexy, cute and pixie-like Paprika. Able to navigate through dreams, free as a bird and always smiling, she is totally different from her genius down-to-earth counterpart. This is what we hide inside us – another self – which is only free when we are asleep.
And the question comes naturally to mind – what is my dream-self like? If I had such an advantaged technological device that enabled me to control my dreams, would I also have such a different dream-self? Self, but not self? A part of me, but, as Paprika says, with me being also a part of her? Who would be the strongest between us, the conscious me, or the subconscious one?
‘Paprika’ is not a children’s anime. Not only does it have violent, sexual and very disturbing connotations, it also has a very convoluted plot. One which makes us thing and debate, frown and wonder. The term ‘fucked-up’ also comes to mind lol.
Unfortunately, its director, Satoshi Kon, died in 2010, so we will have no more of these gems coming our way. Another anime of his which I’ve been hearing for years about, and never got around to watching, is the psychological thriller ‘Perfect Blue’ (also by Satoshi Kon), which not only has an immense cult following, but is also described as being one of a kind.
‘Perfect Blue’ is even older than ‘Paprika’ since it was produced in 1997. Certain animes, like certain movies, are ageless.
This morning I woke up in a cold harsh world after a night plagued with nightmares. Again, I froze in terror while someone who hated me tried to choke the life out of me, again I shouted at someone whom I absolutely despise, screeching for some shred of justice, again and again I woke up alone in the darkness. Unloved, and feeling as though the whole world didn’t want me to exist.
This morning I went to work with a heart heavy with dread and loneliness. I looked up at the bloodied clouds, testament to a powerful and cruel sun. I looked down at the sea – a sea gone as scarlet as the lips of a cruel woman smiling in derision, reflecting the turmoil splashed above it. I walked into a square block of concrete filled with people who did not want to be there, people I do not know, people I am not interested in.
Yet, all it took was a cup of coffee with a friend. An hour where I could laugh and talk and vent, knowing that the other person was interested and wanted to help. Realizing how much I worried, and that I needed to let it all flow. Let it all go. Leave it all behind me.
Somehow.
I smile now, trying to pick up the shards of this broken mirror, even though I know that tonight, I will have to fall asleep again.
Each journey is an adventure. Each adventure is an inspiration.
books, life and other things...
A Pride and Prejudice Lovers Guide to Other Books
A Book Blog for Speculative Fiction, Graphic Novels... and more!
Encounters with film, books, music, food and travel - welcome to my world!
To observe, to be enchanted, and to enjoy the simple stuff in life, is truly a delight.
miguelolmedo1988@gmail.com
Books served with a generous slice of cake.
Darkly Dreaming Moonsong 