Friday, 23 September 2016

House // Wand // Patronus



I've always found something incredibly satisfying about answering a few questions and being presented with something that proclaims to represent me in some way. I think it's because I feel as though I'm constantly changing, or at the very least just constantly changing my mind, so I can never quite decide where I would fit.

My surprise at being sorted into Gryffindor over Ravenclaw all those years ago still hasn't entirely disappeared. I'm probably somewhere in between the two and I think that's quite a nice place to reside.

Despite knowing nothing about Ilvermorny, during the sorting quiz I felt that same feeling of curiosity and excitement that I felt when I was sorted into my Hogwarts house. I'm a Thunderbird and I don't entirely know what that means, but I certainly feel an affinity with it. In some way. Somehow.

In years gone by, when asked what I thought my Patronus would be I would mutter something about a rabbit or perhaps an otter, but in truth I was never really sure. A rabbit would probably be too obvious. And I just think otters are cute. As you can see, I hadn't really given it that much thought. But somehow the selection of questions I happened to be asked on Pottermore at that particular time has managed to give me a Patronus that fits so perfectly I'm convinced it really can see into my soul.

I mean, horses can sleep standing up or lying down, and that's pretty much me right there. Also Ginny's Patronus is a horse and Ginny is nearly Jennie.

My mam's Patronus is a wood mouse, because you bet I wanted to know! It fits her perfectly and I have no doubt she would be able to fend off an army of dementors with her little wood mouse pal, they're not to be underestimated. I'm intrigued to see what my boyfriend's Patronus is once he's back from his little seaside jaunt. He's a Slytherin so perhaps he'll stay on brand and get some kind of snake. We'll see.

Are we housemates, or perhaps even Patronus pals? 

Friday, 12 August 2016

Specs, baby.



I've been thinking a lot (read: wholly too much) about what this space has evolved into. Writing consistently here is something I've not managed to do for a long while. At first that weighed heavily on me, thinking 'oh I should be writing' at every possibility because I really wasn't busy. I had the time to invest, but I just couldn't bring myself to write. And now I can see that time away has allowed things to become clearer. It's like when you're standing close to a vast piece of art; you can see the details but they don't make sense because you haven't had a glimpse of the whole.

It's only now I see that this is a lo-fi space. It's not a curated collection of finished pieces because nothing I'm working on is remotely close to being finished. And I can't curate my thoughts because when I try to do that, it's like putting the plug back in to a swirling whirlpool of water - nothing can leave and everything becomes still. Instead this is a place for everyday moments that together may seem insignificant, but actually they unite to form life. Things that happen. Thoughts. Dreams. Hopes. Goals. Things I've bought, which are very few and far between these days. Things I didn't buy, of which there are many. Things I like and those I don't. The highs, the lows, the things in the middle. It's all real life. And that's what this has to be.

And so here are a few words about my new glasses. My new, extortionately expensive glasses. I don't like to think about how much they cost AND they were half price because they talked me into joining the monthly contact lens scheme. But y'know, gotta invest in your vision. Slightly strange glasses are my favourite. After years of oversized black plastic frames, my aesthetic this time (until my eyes invariably get worse and I need a stronger prescription) is middle aged man meets Harry Potter. Middle aged Harry Potter. And, so far, I'm pretty pleased with my decision.


xo


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Monday, 1 August 2016

Dear August




August, already. It almost doesn't seem possible.

I've been thinking a lot about being busy and what that really means. There are different kinds of busy, but it's almost as if there has been some kind of strange competition as to who can be, or at least appear to be, the busiest at any given time.

There's being unsustainably busy, when you've taken on more than can ever be achieved in a particular time frame, but you keep ploughing on because it's the only thing that you know how to do and risk burning out completely. There's being busy but not being especially productive. And there's being distinctly unbusy.

The latter is something I've actively sought to perfect for a long while. I thought that by giving myself enough down time, things wouldn't ever feel too overwhelming and I could mentally check out for a bit. Of course, I was wrong, because it left too much time available for me to wander around the deep recesses of my mind, and the space to overthink myself into oblivion.

My previously allocated free time is now taken up by some freelance writing. It's not the most exciting, or particularly well paid. But I'm almost not really doing it for the money, although I definitely need that too at the moment. However, writing for someone else seems to have allowed for the rediscovery of my motivation, that seemed to have wandered off for a while, to write for myself. It's true when they say that ideas aren't exhaustible.

Anyway, I think what I'm trying to say here is that it turns out there's such a thing as 'just the right kind of busy' and it's far better than being unbusy.

August, you look good.

I've got an appointment to finally get some contact lenses again, so I can reclaim my face from the burden of glasses sometimes. Wearing glasses isn't something I mind too much, but if I can find some lenses to suit my eyes then it'll be nice to have a bit of choice again.

We're going to London to see the Cursed Child this month and I'm hoping that I can avoid all spoilers until then. It's been far too long since I've been to the theatre. I don't know that excited is quite the right word, which I suppose is why I haven't bought a copy of the script yet, but I'm certainly curious. There have been a few think pieces recently talking about how JK should just stop, or that she's messing with childhoods. And I don't see that. There's always going to be a clamouring for more insight into that world, and I'll probably see or read anything that may happen in the future. But I do so somewhat sceptically, not because it's going to ruin the original story for me, but because I don't think anything can ever be better than it.

Remember that opportunity that arose but I didn't want to talk details incase I jinxed anything? Well, I'm starting a MA in a few months and there's quite an extensive reading list that I need to begin making my way through. I've joined a facebook group and the discussions happening on there have left me feeling very out of my depth already. They're all so organised and prepared, and my decision to apply was so spur of the moment I'm still processing the fact that I'm actually doing it. But I think I'll be okay. I think I can do it. And if it means I'll be even more busy that before, well, all the better.



xo


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