So this is a bit scary, jumping in head first. If you know me in real life then you will know that I have been constantly talking about starting this little here blog for the past 6 years.
A little about me. I came in to this world kicking and screaming (or rather pulled out) blue with the cord round my neck. The first thing I saw was tiny little rosebuds on the wall paper (I think I may have fabricated this visual a bit- I vaguely recall this being said). The name of the hospital was “The Rosie”. I have lived in a small little market town nestled in a little valley near Cambridge. Growing up with my two dearest sisters was a lovely thing, the big blue tent in the garden, summers spent camping in France (Eurocamp!) and rainy days playing and building or being “directed” by our older sister. Then it all went a bit grey and a lot of things were scattered in different place. Around this time I started to get very down and sad and had weird pain in different parts of my body, things at home were not happy. The only solace was my new schools (changed because of my last school getting horribly unbearable due to bullying) art teacher called Mr James and my best friend Joanna. Weekends were spent escaping to her mega shed wonderland and being enveloped with love eating spaghetti cheese staying up all night working on art deadlines listening to goodness, being the little orphaned child her and her family were my world. This was when I first remember starting to have the knowledge that I would create and escape to my own cosy-non boring world. I like this world with its special little things and people where everyone is kind and honest and have no secret hidden agendas. Things in this world are warm and cosy and wrap you up like a good duvet in the winter. Much like my objective of this here blog.
I started art school and really found myself in making and drawing and designing. This time, despite all the storms, was one of the happiest and I really felt like I knew who I was and found my way of being happy. I was in the Cosy Non Boring World around 85% of the time. Experimenting and hiding away in the dark room. The smell of paint and turpentine and developing chemicals. At my most productive and alive forever covered in stains and having messy hands (messy hands = happy heart). Walking to the bus stop on early winter mornings, pavements glittering with ice, carrying work and feeling so happy. Catching the bus and winding round small country roads that led to villages. This was my life and my routine. I spoke only with a select few (cosy non boring world people) and loved dearly speaking with my special penpals located in Australia, Canada and Barcelona.
I then set forth to live in a big grey city after finally finding what I loved. I really loved to draw and make and think about how I could transfer what is in my head (cosy-non-boring-world) into something more tangible (this manifested in Weird jelly house estates and secrets sewn into clothes along with mangled bodies scribbled). It was my way of understanding the Non Cosy boring world. Being in a big grey northern city was a culture shock, I drank too much and ate too little. Things were rocky, whilst I loved being a student I started to get incredibly ill and only was at uni half of the time due to absence. The previously mentioned aches and pains in my body turned into a very scary painful illness and I couldn’t even move. I felt my life disappear in an instance and went into hospital and didn’t come out for a while. After that I moved back to the small market town and then decided to make a big change…
Before I left for University I met a beautiful brown eyed boy whilst visiting a dear mutual friend in Barcelona. We were penpals and evenings were spent trying to communicate our thoughts and dreams to each other. It really was love at first sight. Visits from him and visits to him were exciting and we really had a special connection. He really did change my world. Here is what I wrote about it:
I keep meeting strange people from my past, or just people I know vaguely and the words “i’m moving to barcelona tomorrow” pop out my mouth suddenly. These words sound strange and distant from me like I am telling another persons story.
I hugged my daddy goodnight for I’m not sure how long, and my puppy dog, and my dads new girlfriend. I’m actually really really leaving to live in another country that is not england for a while, maybe a good few years or more. Im scared this is real now, this is grown up, i have made this choice. Its happening and unravelling at an astonishing speed and I’m unable to really grasp it and hold it and to keep it and make it feel real and like its happening to me and not something that just happens to others. I’m not sure of my life out there, where am i going to live? where am i going to be and who with (borjita i know that but who else?) and what will i be doing. I JUST DON’T BLOODY KNOW!! it feels fucking weird tomorrow i will wake up and it will be a start of a new chapter a new part of my new life.
wish me bloody luck, or something ;)”