The deep breath inwards...

... keeps me grinning, even after 4 hours of sleep and all the shrouds of darkness and sadness and idiocy all around everything. I know that there is potential in everything an everyone, and it makes me smile like a fool.

That's not to say it kills all of he problems - they sit there, stubborn, moving for no-one, and we have to tiptoe around them and clamber over the tops of their massive frames. Somewhere though, amongst all this, there is a feeling of positivity - An aura of inexorable change up ahead. Emanating from deep within the canyons under the problems is the next step, slowly creeping out, ready to shake this situation to pieces and set my family on a new course.

I just need God to keep my Mum upright. All of us are suffering, but her most. She sees some days through permanent darkness, never stopping to relax, always working to keep on top of all of the responsibilities and fears she's now lumped with. She's so string, but she certainly doest feel it. She's battered but not beaten, and I need her to feel encouraged until the change comes.

The loneliness is the worst part, easily. It kills us all. I'm one to suffer it quite badly, but I inherited that want for contact with people from Mum. She aspires only to share life with those around her, and now the nights are impossible.

I love her, and I want to be there for her all the time, but it isn't the same.



'tonm. xx

Book of the Moment: Anything with beauty in its words, I suppose.

Song of the Moment: "Blind" by Reana

Sighh...

es·say /n. ˈɛseɪ for 1, 2; ˈɛseɪ, ɛˈseɪ for 3–5; v. ɛˈseɪ/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[n. es-ey for 1, 2; es-ey, e-sey for 3–5; v. e-sey] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –noun

1.	a short literary composition on a particular theme or subject, usually in prose and generally analytic, speculative, or interpretative.

2.	anything resembling such a composition: a picture essay.

3.	an effort to perform or accomplish something; attempt.

4.	Philately. a design for a proposed stamp differing in any way from the design of the stamp as issued.

5.	Obsolete. a tentative effort; trial; assay

I want to achieve well at uni, I really do. I see myself, ten years from now, in a new situation with new perspectives and possibly more facial hair, looking back at my time at university and thinking about what a great idea it was to work hard and how much I've benefited from those three years of effort.

The fact is, right now I have an essay to complete about Global Media which in no way excites me, interests me or stirs up even the slightest sympathy with a single media expert anywhere around the globe within me. I am trying to concentrate, but all I can think about is the other project I have which is worth more credits and which I am currently failing spectacularly. I keep thinking of interesting new lyrics instead of researching quotes and references (inevitably because I am having to sit through another one of my brothers' band rehearsals, which makes me both jealous and annoyed at contemporary music). What's more, I'm just so inexplicably irritated all the time at the moment that I can't socialise, I can't relax, I can't compose; I'm turning into this miserable tosser with no prospects and acute deafness in one ear.

What's the point in this bit? I know I went to university to work, to push myself further, but it seems to be affecting me as a person more than my academic mind - Essays and research files are things which will never apply to my lifestyle ever at all ever never ever again never. I enjoy writing, but not when the topic is a mind melting series of dull questions designed specifically to drain all the happiness from the air around you.

You just wait - I'll get into the swing of the question at about 8pm, write furiously but then find that I have a billion things to pack because I'm leaving for Portsmouth tomorrow. So, I'll be miserable, then realise I've not started my other project either and take it out on those around me. I really hate it, knowing that this is the next inevitable stage, but here I am, sure of it and I can't do a bloody thing.

Any ideas?

'tonm. xx

Book of the Moment: "The Stars Tennis Balls" by Stephen Fry

Song of the Moment: "Stepping Back" by Ben Mi Duck

I am not too humble to tell you that I can't do this alone.

I'm not having a faith crisis. I think it's more of a confused daze.

Do you know the sensation you experience when you're struck across the head? Like, a real blow to the temple, thrown to the ground job? Well, when you try to open your eyes, there are flickering lights covering everything you see and a sharp hum rings in your ears, as if your senses are trying to reconfigure themselves after a risky pull-the-plug-from-the-back reboot procedure.

I'm there. I pray and believe it's heard, but I can't see any results because of everything imparing my view of what should be. That sounds too confusing;

I can't see anything working. I know it is, but I can't see it, because of the shock. There, that's it.

I know that things will change eventually - Note, I use the term change, because "get better" is not a guarantee. At some point, near or far, there will be a new spark, a new thing to either clear away some of the concussion or strike me once again. I know we are saveable. (That's probably a word...) We-Me-My Family-can be saved, pulled up out of the dark place and set on the ground once again, with the blue skies above us and the fresh air pouring into our lungs.

The thing is, it's really scary here, now, waiting for that. I trust it'll happen; I just bloody wish I knew what form it's going to take.


'tonm.
xxx

Book of the Moment: n/a

Song of the Moment: "Dance" by Robbie Seay Band

I think the "Christmas Joy" has been slightly detracted from.

I'm not being a fatalist or 'old and mature' or anything - I think what's happened is I've arrived home this weekend and expected everyone to be madly excited about Christmas. I guess I imagined the house would be full of the rich smells of mulled wine and mince pies, or that there'd be boxes overflowing with tinsel on the floor of the lounge just begging to have their contents strewn all over the house.

But they're all still in school here. I mean, I am too, technically, but i'm home for the weekend (though that may become the rest of the week, depending on how much help I can offer my Mum) because of this concert.

I suppose maybe I'm still subconsciously recognising that; Maybe a little voice in the back of my head is rying to remind me that there's still one academic week left for me to confront, so I can't put all my heart and soul into being a merry old soul.

Alternatively, tiredness is taking hold of me - I did, after all, get up at 6:30 this morning in order to catch a train which would get me home for 10:45. It was still brilliant, mind - Everytime I catch a train I enjoy the journey. In fact, I quite enjoyed the entire experience of getting up before everything else. I think it should be a once-a-week thing. Though certainly not every Saturday. No, that would be preposterous.

Now, wine and an evening.
Let's try and infuse the household with some Christmas spirit, eh?



'tonm.
xxxx


Book of the Moment: "Q magazine: Issue 258" - Q

Song of the Moment: "Airport Taxi Reception" - Sondre Lerche