Wednesday 25 August 2010

Sun Rise

Okay, here is another little story for you. For GCSE English there is a part where you have to describe something using a load of senses and descriptive language. We did a load of practice in class for it, each with different titles. This is one about a sun rise:

I’ve done it many times before and never have I seen the same sight. I have a photograph recollection of all the times I’ve been here in the same spot and every one is different. I often enjoy looking through them, not only to look at the picture taken, but how technology has changed from black and white old pictures to the ones that I’ve printed from the computer. The photographs however never capture the true essence of what is and what was, never will I be able to recall sounds I heard, feel the touch of the winters icy frost or summers light breeze or smell the freshly fallen dew on cut grass, for never will there be a moment like the one nature will produce now. For everyday is different, we can neither stop time nor call it back, it’s indefinite and brings us hoping and surprises.

Today was the same, a surprise, a wonder to my eye.

It took me longer than usual to get out of the house as I was taking along one of my Grandchildren and although I had told her in order to see a miracle she would have to get up early, be alert, ready and willing. However trying to get a 7 year old up and out of bed is not a task I myself would settle for everyday. Constantly anxious for whether I would miss the start of Mother Nature’s day not wanting to disappoint myself nor Rose for what I had promised her would be a sight she would always remember and trying not to get myself frustrated with her, while she frolicked around the house singing with her tooth brush in her mouth, waking herself up, but also the rest of the household.

Soon we were off. Rose singing ‘Oh What a Beautiful Morning’ at the top of her lungs with power that I no longer am familiar with and me trying to keep up with her carefree skip as we trudged through the park . The fresh spring air was crisp and cool; the grass was still wet from last night’s dew. The droplets glistened without the sun’s rays to reflect off of them, they were different from every angle and as we walked through the grass our shoes became increasing wet. There was a path nearby, but the grass was soft and bouncy on our feet so we stayed where we were. A few early daisies were dotted around, their petals closed to avoid the morning nip in the air. I suspected we would see them fully open showing off their pure flower when we would return this way in a few hours.

We stopped by the old Oak tree, which I guessed to be a few hundred years old. It towered above us high and dense with no intention of stopping. It was in the winter months you could fully appreciate the vast structure of the tree, but in spring time it was just as wonderful watching new buds appear and the green leaves unfold to make a truly magnificent sight filled with life. I saw a few birds starting to appear and soon the morning chorus was in full swing blocking out any traffic noise that ever was. No conductor to tell each singer the timing, no sheet music to tell them what note to sing, and no limit on what they could do. True improvisation. Rose started to whistle along, imitating the calls she heard from around her obviously marvelled by the tunes they were making.

We sat down at the foot of the tree, each sitting on an enormous root erupting up from the ground. I set up my camera, while Rose sat beside me eating the peanut butter sandwiches greedily I had made as a snack, dropping crumbs on the park floor that would most probably be picked up by a hungry bird later that day.

A touch of pink brushed the sky making it blush a furious red colour striped colourfully with lines of blue and lilac as well. From where we sat I could just see the tip of the Sun over the horizon eye level with us. I switched on my camera and stood up, Rose copied me, dropping her peanut butter sandwich and eagerly sucking her fingers clean she took my hand.

Together we watched as the Sun rose, slowly, but at a speed where it changed everything so quickly. Soon the flushed red sky turned orange and yellow as the Sun presented itself into the new day. Pastel colours, like the one’s I find in Rose’s crayon pot flooded the sky with delight. A bird flew across the scene to make it complete blackened out forming a silhouette where the sun shone brightly upon it. I looked to my right there her jaw hanging open in awe stood Rose. I gently let go of her hand and focused my camera on her with our scene and took a picture.

As the sky lost colour and turned increasingly blue, we started to head back. Once back home in the comfort of the house, our shoes on the radiator and a mug of Hot Chocolate in our hands, Rose’s mother asked: “What was it like Rose?”, she merely replied “Good, go and see for yourself.” But I knew she thought it was more than “good”, I knew she found it awe inspiring and wonderful. Because I have a picture which captures memories and sights like that.

Nothing's decided

This is a short story that I wrote when I was around 15, it was for the AS English class that I was taking a year in advance. I really enjoyed our lessons, they were so free, we could read what we wanted and write whatever we wanted for coursework.

One criteria was to write a piece intended for just reading. I chose to write a short story based of Arthur Golden's 'A memoir of a a Geisha'. It tells the story of Chiyo's (the main character) sister. They are taken away to Kyoto and separated. This is Satsu's tale of how she ran away.

I checked my almanac for the third time that day; it read ‘An auspicious day for small changes, a good day for travel in the direction of the Sheep, which was in the direction of northeast, the direction of home.’ Good. “Just trust it.” I said quietly to my self.

But how could I know until I was there? The almanac was a book designed to help with making decisions everyday. It told you whether doing even a small thing would bring you good luck or cause you pain and difficulty. Some people think everything to do with life is fate, and that your destiny is already decided for you long before you existence. Like a long path and you only have to follow it, there are no shortcuts or left and right corners. It’s just a straight line and you travel from one end to the other. I suppose it couldn’t hurt to believe those things once in a while. But it was hard to believe that this is what my life was, the opposite of everything I wanted. I wanted freedom, love, care, friendship, money and opportunities.

But there was just no way of knowing. All I had was trust and my fighting ambition to get both myself and Chiyo away from this place and back to our home. Back to our family and the life we had. I was prepared, my bag was packed and I had told Chiyo where I would meet her – by the river directly opposite the Minsmiza Theatre, and the time we would meet – one in the morning. But our meeting had been brief and frantic, how could I know whether she would turn up or not? I did not know her life now, how she was living and what troubles she could encounter.

I recalled the terror in her face at the parting in Kyoto. “Stay there.” Mr Bekku had said to me. “You’re going else where.” And he pushed me back into the rickshaw with his arm. My feelings and emotions were mirrored in Chiyo’s face, my eyes welled up and I couldn’t see her anymore, but her sobs echoed around me. I wiped the tears from my eyes and my gaze was met by the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her Kimono was embroidered with the warmest greens and yellows and her face was painted a pure white colour like the colour of the snow on the mountains which I had once seen in the distance back at home. “Mr Bekku,” She said. “Could you take the garbage out later? I’d like to be on my way.” There was no garbage in the courtyard. She continued to talk about herself in highest regard whilst she degraded others around her. I heard no more as the loud rumbling of the car traffic rolled by. A sight and sound I had never heard before.

I gathered the money for Mrs Kishino, the old woman at the door who would not let me past without some sort of pay. She said nothing to me, just nodded and smiled only slightly, I smiled back. Her were eyes comforting to mine. She understood what this meant to me, and maybe she was the only one in this place who really did understand. “It will be alright Satsu.” She said.

“I know” I replied clearly, although she could here the uncertainty in my voice.

“It’s best for you to get out while you can, if you wait until you’re my age your time will have passed. I can’t say that all the luck in the world is with you Satsu, but if you think about how much you want to be with your sister and how much you want to go home, you will make it.” Her old wise eyes met with mine again.

“What if she doesn’t come? What if all my days of planning have gone to waste? What if I get caught then I will never have another chance, it will ruin me if I try and fail, I will have to come back here and work until my days are over, and then…” Mrs Kishino cut me off short.

“Satsu, listen to me.” She began quietly. “I tried to run away and I failed, but only because I didn’t believe in myself. Satsu, believe in yourself and you can do it. You can.”

“Yes.” It was all I could say. Mrs Kishino stroked my hair, just as mother would do back in the village. “Good Luck.” She whispered.

Night after night I would work in the Tatsugo joroa-ya or the ‘pleasure house’ as it was known, feeding thoughtless men with this so called pleasure I could give them. Never once did I enjoy what I did. Never once did I look them in the eye while I gave my service. That was what I was. A service, which was abused, taken for granted, and I did not want to give freely of my service.

The time was twenty-five to one.

I ran, not looking behind myself, just running into the free streets of Japan, the bare soles of my feet slapping against the stone roads. I jumped over the occasional puddle from where it had rained a few days ago. I had run out in it yesterday morning when it was pouring from the skies, and cleaned myself, almost danced through the streets with the smile on my face, which I had so rarely done in the past months. When I returned to the house my Kimono was soaked through and I remembered taking it off and putting on a dry one, feeling the silk on my skin and how lovely it was. That simple thing I had done contented me and I was happy.

I saw Geisha in their brightly coloured Kimono, all on their way home after entertaining their guests not one of them bowed to me, or wished me a good evening,. They all knew what I was. I was not a hostess in the sense that they were, I wished to be though and I felt alone, isolated amongst these wonderfully beautiful Geisha, not one alike, yet all equally identical in a way. The Geisha didn’t smile at me, nor did they look at me with sneering or scowling eyes, they did not whisper rude remarks to their friends or turn their pale faces which shone in the moon light towards me as I walked past them. Instead they ignored me completely; they did not even regard me as a person. I felt oddly invisible yet too bright at the same time.

My pace slowed and I looked behind myself for the first time since I had left the house. I could not help but smile a little. Right now I could imagine Chiyo embarking on her journey to meet me. We would embrace in such a way that we would never let go again, even if we had too. I could imagine her soft dark hair and her pale eyes looking at me and I would wipe away her tears, we would clench each other’s hands and we would run. Run into the direction of the sheep. Home. My father would rush out the door, hold us and tell us that mother was going to be alright, then she would join us and we would hold each other forever and never let go. If only life wasn’t left up to fate.

I saw the Minsmiza Theatre, but I saw no Chiyo. It was only five to the hour, and I knew she wasn’t very punctual. I could almost hear the laughing and see the smiling of the people inside the theatre, who looked at the amazing costumes and watched the remarkable dances being performed.

I felt as if there was a spotlight on me. One or two people walked past me in silence turning their head my way and I stared back searching for Chiyo. The time seemed to go so slowly when one was waiting for something and I took it in my interest to find something to occupy my time with. I threw a stick in the water and gazed at it for as far down the river as I could see. A bird flew into the scene and grabbed my stick between its beak. Probably to build a nest for its family it was returning to. The stick’s journey had ended almost as suddenly as it had started, it would go no further in the direction of the sheep.

I stood by the river and looked into its deep, dark, unknowing waters. I would never know what was in there, how deep it was or where it was going even. All I knew was that it was there now and then the water ran away and it was gone. The curves of the river bed deciding the way for the water to flow and where it should go. Even if I threw a stick in and interrupted the river with something unexpected it could deal with it. It had guidelines that lead it on its way, and I knew I had none. I was alone and no one was there to push me back onto the right track or stop me from going off in the wrong direction. I was alone and Chiyo wasn’t coming. I was alone and I ran.

Sunday 22 August 2010

Saturday 7 August 2010

Connections and Impulses

So I think I finally have my five university choices sorted out. They will probably change and I won't have a clue where to go in a couple of weeks. I'll freak out when I actually have to select them on my UCAS form and make a last second impulsive decision that I don't think about and that eventually turns out to be wrong so that I have to tell someone I want to change it and then there will be a massive great big 'hoo-hah' about the whole thing and then I will once again be back to where I was and my original five choices.

I am currently listening to the proms, and its so good! Just the right amount of everything. Crash of a symbol, punch of a trombone, waltzing violins and a bright clarinet. I feel I have a connection when the clarinet plays the tune. I feel in a way proud. Likewise when reading a bit of Dickens and he describes the marshes in Great Expectations and the places in London I can so relate to that and understand that he has seen the things that I, too have seen. That's wonderful. And Shakespeare - I went to see Henry IV at the Globe. It was the first time I had seen that play and I loved it, but more so, with the fact that the play was in constant referral to the town and area that I lived in. I feel in tune with the play and the writer.

Monday 2 August 2010

12 minutes of conversation at 17:41

Helen

its fine there are thosands!

that wasnt right

thousands

17:42Me

thosands

ha

harrrrrharrrrr

17:42Helen

i think i need special spelling lessons before year 13

AHHHH YEAR 13

17:42Me

AAAAHHHH YEAR 13

AAKLFNNLDN,.BGDBKLASFD

17:42Helen

13 is my ultimate unlucky number, damn it

17:42Me

how is this

i can't even

akjsdlkngs

i can't be almost 18

it's just INSANE MAN

17:43Helen

i know i feel like a child

17:43Me

I AM A CHILD

I LIKE PLAYING GAMES

17:43Helen

no way am i driving, living on my own, fending for myslef

17:43Me

AND NOT HAVING TO HOLD RESPONSIBILITY

17:43Helen

i know!!!!

17:43Me

I CAN'T DRIVE

I CAN'T GO ON HOLIDAY ON MY OWN

I CAN'T GO ANYWHERE ON MY OWN

17:44Helen

we could actually go to prison

17:44Me

I CAN'T SIT IN A RESTAURANT ON MY OWN?!?!?!?!!1

OH LORD

17:44Helen

they wouldnt just blame out parents anymore

17:44Me

WE COULD GO TO PRISON

WE CAN DO ANYTHING

17:44Helen

hahahahahahaha

i wanna go to azkaban

17:44Me

....

17:44Helen

maybe not

17:44Me

HA

17:44Helen

but we have to pay bills

17:45Me

HOW DO WE EVEN DO THAT?

17:45Helen

i have absolutely no idea!!!!

17:45Me

HOW DO YOU EVEN DO ANYTHING

17:45Helen

im actually going to die

17:45Me

I CAN'T GO FOOD SHOPPING ON MY OWN

FOR MY OWN SELF

ALONE

HOW DO I GET A MORGAGE?

I CAN'T EVEN SPELL IT

17:46Helen

what even is a morgage

17:46Me

exactly

it's just a word

17:46Helen

and then!

we'll be getting married

17:46Me

how do i move away from everyone i knoq

17:46Helen

9-5 job

bored as ever

17:46Me

and make a billion new friends

17:46Helen

kids

grandkids

17:46Me

OH LORD

17:46Helen

DEATH

17:46Me

STOP IT

SLKDNGAKLSF

17:46Helen

where is time going!!!!

17:47Me

WHEREEEEE?

HOW IS IT ALREADY AUGUST

WHAT THIS FRICK IS THIS WORLD

17:47Helen

bejeezus 5 year olds dont know how easy life is at their age

17:47Me

IT'S NOT A LONG ENOUGH LIFE

I WANT TO GO EVERYWHERE

AND DO EVERYTHING

17:47Helen

me too!!!

17:48Me

i want to eat food so spicy my head falls off

and

and

and

swim in a lake

and

17:48Helen

skydive

17:48Me

climb the andes!

THE ANDES

17:48Helen

bunjee jump (maybe)

17:48Me

PERU

ARGH

17:48Helen

after peru it's time for uni

17:49Me

OH GOOD LORD

i'm 5

17:49Helen

can we just stay out there living wild in the forest

17:49Me

we can take a course at the university of life

we could just NOT GO

17:49Helen

haha

17:49Me

we have no obligation to go

17:49Helen

lets just explore th world

theres so much to see!

17:50Me

there is

and you know what

we are like the smallest planet

and we live in one of the smallest countries

and it freaks me out that i can still go to places in our small little country and be amazed by how different it is to anywhere else i've been

IN MY OWN COUNTRY

and then europe

well that's insane

and i've never been anywhere else

but how crazy must it be there?!?!?!

17:52Helen

i know we are so small

we are miniscule

17:52Me

then think of ants

LIFE FREAK OUT

17:53Helen

also, one tiny molecule tha makes up an object, imagine how many there are in the world

DEFINATE LIFE FREAK OUT