H O M E .      A B O U T .      C O N T A C T .      T U M B L R .      T H E   B O O K   J O U R N A L .      sailorjennie [at] gmail [dot] com

Sunday, 17 January 2016

Missing You Always.


Monday January 11th, 2016. 
12:30am. It was almost time. You were quietly rustling in your hay nest and I couldn't sleep, not wanting you to be cold or alone. I scooped you up and brought you to bed, tucking you in beside me. You listened to me talk for a few hours, letting me gently hold your little paw. I think you were doing a better job at reassuring me, when it should have been the other way around. A final few shallow breaths, one last twitch of your ears and you slipped peacefully away. We grew up together, you and I. You knew all of my secrets, patiently listening to all of the silly worries my early-twenties seemed to conjure up, always there with a reassuring nose nudge or an agreeable stomp. Oh how good you were at stomping. It's not the same here anymore and it won't ever be again, not without you. But I'm clutching on to the thought that being with you in your final moments, and I'm so thankful that they were peaceful, just the two of us, is all I could have hoped for as the end became our present, and now my past.

Oh and by the way, I just found that little clump of hay (that must have taken ages to wedge in there) under the seat of my rowing machine. And that shows just how often I've been using that lately, doesn't it? Are you really exercise guilt tripping me from the bunny afterlife?

Missing you always, little kale monster.
xo


- One thought from each day, told in fewer than one hundred words (probably). Sometimes odd, sometimes silly, sometimes entirely nonsensical. Who knows. I don't. It's a new thing I'm trying. Except for this week. This week was difficult. The words wouldn't come. And I couldn't write anything else.

Sunday, 10 January 2016

The day the sky fell in.


Monday January 4th, 2016. 
This was the day the sky fell in and clouded my dreams with stardust and miniature droplets of water. It's all very well having your head in the clouds, somewhat beautiful in theory in fact, but when the wings of birds are fluttering in your eyes it can be difficult to see which way is safe to turn.

Tuesday January 5th, 2016. 
You are the light I did not know I needed until suddenly you were standing next to me, with your warm glow allowing me to find my place on my map.

Wednesday January 6th, 2016. 
The incredibly kind people who work in my local corner shop think I'm very healthy. 'Oh, back again for more kale?' I haven't mentioned it's for the rabbit, the tiny kale monster. I've left it too late to mention now, it would just be too awkward. So I continue to pretend I really like kale. I don't like kale at all.

Thursday January 7th, 2016. 
Last night I dreamt I was an expert on a television quiz show. I was an expert on Dadaism. I referred to myself as Queen of the Dada's. 

Friday January 8th, 2016. 
You were screaming for someone to help. You were in a glass box. Everyone could see, but nobody really listened.

Saturday January 9th, 2016.
There's a particular feeling that I cannot articulate into words. It's as though I'm slowly freezing from the inside outwards. Thoughts are slowing down and feeling warmth in my fingertips is a long forgotten notion. But when I close my eyes and inhale deeply, I am sure I can detect the subtle sent of a far away barbecue and the delicate touch of a slight breeze upon my eyelashes.

Sunday January 10th, 2016. 
Thoughts over a slice of cheese toast at midnight:
We should really fix that tiny hole in the ceiling. Maybe a new profile picture would be a good idea. I wonder how one goes about getting to read manuscripts as a job? Let's be honest, that wouldn't feel like a job at all. Music is on shuffle and 'Someone Like You' just started playing, there will be tears in approximately 30 seconds. Everytime. Cheese toast probably wasn't the best idea before sleep. Hopefully no more dadaism dreams will follow... 

- One thought from each day, told in fewer than one hundred words (probably). Sometimes odd, sometimes silly, sometimes entirely nonsensical. Who knows. I don't. It's a new thing I'm trying. 



Jennie May
xo

Sunday, 3 January 2016

Slightly Ajar.

Friday January 1st, 2016.
If just yesterday I stood beside a dusty window in a room where the rain fell on the inside and thick grey clouds obscured even the notion of there being anyone inside, today I am standing at that same window, but this time it is slightly ajar and on a clear day.

Saturday January 2nd, 2016.
Sometimes when the rain hits my window at just the right angle it sounds a little like icy fingernails. It's as though they're trying to tap tap tap their way inside. And if they got in, what then? Would they evaporate? Or would they try to tap tap tap their way inside my body? In a never ending cycle of trying to find the best place to finally rest.  

Sunday January 3rd, 2016.
There was a giant Ferrero Rocher chocolate sitting in the kitchen. It was a gift that I hadn't yet eaten. Sometimes I held it in my hands, pretending it was a normal sized Ferrero Rocher and I was just exceedingly small. But today was the day that I ate most of it. At 8am.

- One thought from each day, told in fewer than one hundred words (probably). Sometimes odd, sometimes silly, sometimes entirely nonsensical. Who knows. I don't. It's a new thing I'm trying. 


Jennie May
xo


Friday, 1 January 2016

Dear January, 2016.

How are you? A question that can be both innocent and probing, depending on who is behind the words. There are those that a 'fine thank you, you?' will placate. And those people who already know the answer isn't that, but who want to hear you say it aloud. Who want to penetrate the wall you've built to try and protect yourself, because they know the wall isn't working. You're standing in the shadow of your own self constructed prison. It takes away your sunlight. The darkness looms overhead. And the only way to induce change is to chip away until the wall begins to fall. It's messy. It's difficult. And you're left with a pile of bricks and dust that need to be dispersed before you can step out of the shadows and back into the world.

Much of 2015 was filled with half finished writings, a distinct lack of photographing, rare outings, little bravery, no pride in what I was doing and very few meaningful connections. What do you do when you hit an all time emotional low? Well, to be honest I have no idea. But after an extended period of time (that I can only imagine must be different for everyone, it's just sort of, well, whenever you feel ready) it's now time for me to pick myself up, dust myself off and begin again. And it just so happens that for me this has coincided with the dawning of a whole new year. A year in which I can discover and grow into whoever I want to be. Cliche perhaps, but it's a neat little metaphor I'll keep close beside me.
What sparked my changing thought process? Well, I went to New York. And the world opened up. I saw glimpses of the person I would be if I were a New Yorker. And I liked that person. And then I realised that that person was still me. Another part of me I didn't know was in there. But me none the less. And while I may not be in New York in person anymore, part of my soul certainly is and it's soaking up the energy of immediacy that encapsulates the city. The kind that makes you believe that there is something out there in this big wide world waiting for you to see, an opportunity to be seized, a person to meet, an event that will change your very being forever. 

In December I unplugged. Spent some time alone, giving myself a stern talking to. Spent time with my family, who I am grateful to have because they give me a comfortable space in which to simply be, for as long as I need. Decorated the tree. Gave presents. Opened presents. Watched an almost uncountable amount of Christmas films. Passed around boxes of chocolates. Made a small dent in the enormous bottle of gin my mum bought me. Laughed. Cried a bit at how fortunate I am but how complicated I seem to insist on making things for myself. Un-decorated the tree. Started making proper dinners again; turns out there is a limit to how many days in a row I can have cheese and biscuits and still feel good. It's three days. Found exactly the right book to get stuck into after a bit of a reading drought. Saw in the New Year with cake and gin and sandwiches and singing. I'm still working my way through that bottle of gin, it may just take me all year. And now it is time to plug back in.

There's a difference between not caring what people think of you or what you're doing and believing that no one cares. The former was liberating. The latter made me reckless in the worst way. There were days where I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed and I don't ever ever ever want to feel like that again. I should have reread this a little more often, I think. Although I suppose I wasn't brave enough. But getting on a plane has taught me that I can be brave and I'm starting to believe that maybe I can write. Maybe it's something I can be good at if I give myself the chance. And so...

a few plans for two thousand and sixteen so far...
Figuring out the dream.
Being brave enough to reach out and saying hello, can we be friends?
Seeing Adele again, and maybe, very probably, cry singing along to When We Were Young.
The Cursed Child play!
A trip to the seaside.
A wander around London.
Cinema trips - The BFG, Fantastic Beasts!
Books galore. No particular numerical goal, just picking up whatever I feel like at the time.
Believing that I can write.
Going to see some Shakespeare.
Write. No excuses. Just write.

You've stood by my side through thick and thin, even when I haven't deserved it. Thank you. Sincerely, thank you. And so here's to a brand new year. Not a whole new me. I'm the same person, just a little bit different. A little like this space. It's not new, but it will be something a little bit different. Because I am not afraid. I am capable. And I'm beginning to believe in myself.


Happy New Year to you and yours. 
This is your year. 
To be who you want to be. 
To do what you want to do.
You've got this. 
I believe in you.

Share one of your goals for this year in a comment?
I would love to learn a little more about about you.

All my love, 
Jennie