A Resurrection.

Hello, all. It's been a very long time - nearly a whole year since I last updated this poor neglected blog.

A year is but a drop in the ocean in the grand scheme of a person's life, but I can quantify my last year in terms of a rekindled love, a pregnancy, an engagement, two house moves and then suddenly, staggeringly, a baby. The past year has been so unremittingly packed full of these rather high-impact 'life events', that I must admit to still feeling a little like I'm waiting for the pause, so that I can catch my breath. I think I've fitted into twelve months what most sane people would spread over a few years, yet there is still a lot more to come in the foreseeable future. Caring for a brand new, utterly dependant tiny person demands enough time and effort in itself, and rightfully so. But, true to form, I've decided to couple this with planning a wedding, starting my long-delayed writing, and pivotally, my plans to restart my education.

The desire spurring on these plans, coaxing into action a brain sluggish from lack of use, is the overwhelming one of self-preservation. In the last year, I have gradually, subtly, but most definitely changed from the person I was pre-pregnancy - that person has been submerged and relegated, in her place a mystical new being, whose primary concerns relate more to such oddities as nappy brands and anti-colic milk bottles. This is spurring a feeling rising within me now; a panicked realisation that I am losing myself, and the passions that once helped to define and shape me, to the Mumzilla I'm becoming.

Now, I am acutely aware that these words can be easily misconstrued, to imply that I'm not enjoying motherhood or that I resent my child in some way. Just to be clear, my daughter - Charlotte, for anyone wishing to know - is more precious and important to me than anything else in this world. I adore her completely; becoming a mother is more rewarding and joyful than I could ever have imagined. I humbly accept that my daughter has given me more happiness, in the short time that we have thus far known her, than I could ever have achieved otherwise.

However, I don't believe that becoming a mother and also retaining your own identity and pursuits should necessarily be mutually exclusive. A mother, with all of her desires to nurture and care for her child, and a woman, possessed of her own ambitions and desires outwith the child, do not have to exist as separate entities. Surprisingly, even in this day and age, something I keep hearing from too many sources (and far too many of them women) is that motherhood should be 'enough' for a woman, the implication being that bearing a child should extinguish any other yearnings a woman may have. But in my view, surely suppressing all other ambitions for the sake of a child will only harbour resentment in the long term? What happens when the child is fully grown, flown the familial nest, and said woman is left with a life she finds simultaneously unsatisfying and suddenly empty? I hasten to add that if a woman is truly happy with a life lived as a mother, then of course that is completely her choice and to be respected, and commended. Raising children is by no means an easy role. But with that said and acknowledged, that is not the life I would choose for myself.

I'm not saying that I want a life away from my baby, far from it. What I am saying is that I want to be allowed the chance to build a life that will both make me happy as an individual, and ultimately create a better life for our family as a whole. Some may think it selfish that I am currently considering going back into education in the very near future, while my daughter is still in babyhood and will require looking after by somebody who isn't me. However, the long-term benefits that I can attain through education and a subsequent career, are difficult to deny.

I excel when my brain is met with a challenge. I have been removed from education and learning for well over a year now, and to me this is now becoming painfully obvious. It has allowed me to become lazy with my mind, and also left me bereft of any real direction in my life overall. As I mentioned earlier, I have grown sluggish; mentally lethargic, if you like. And now that I've began to take note of this negative slide, I feel somewhat restless and ever so slightly ashamed.

Currently, I am not a good role model for my daughter and I really make no bones about that. My worst fear is that one day when she is older, she will look at me and reject academia for herself because her mother did nothing with her own life. Conversely, if she does choose to pursue further education, I do not want her to look at me and feel no pride for the mother who wasted her own mind and talents. I will have no achievements to demonstrate to her; there will be nothing for her to want to emulate, and I will have only myself to blame for not being proactive at this stage. I must add that I'm not looking for sympathy or a pat on the back here, this is just the way it is. That's why I intend to change it.

This blog is in itself rather symbolic for me, resurrecting an old blog and an old hobby (my writing) to coincide with this rediscovery of my own identity. For a while I have been toying with various different grand ideas, a whole host of wide-ranging university courses and career plans that are all so pie-in-the-sky that I know, and the people around me know, that I'll never follow through on them. Now, I have decided to pare it all back, to get away from aspiring to courses and careers that I really have no knowledge of and no real burning interest in, just because they 'sound good', and focus instead on what really matters to me. As I've lost myself, so too have I lost my passions, and what really drives me. I used to write pages upon pages of prose and poetry on a daily basis - a battered and dog-eared notebook would always be found in my bag, full of random characters, plot ideas, a pretty sentence to be used in something, somewhere... Pen poised to capture any new inspiration as and when it appeared. Now, I have not bought a new notebook in months, more likely years, as this blog post is the first thing I have written, at all, in around six months. It's probably rather sad how much I am enjoying creating this post, feeling the flow of words and enjoying the liberation that comes with their expulsion onto the screen.

So with all that said, instead of pursuing new things that only incite within me a lacklustre enthusiasm at best, I am going back to basics and sticking with what I know, what I'm good at, and what has consistently made me the happiest. You've guessed it, I want to go back and try my hand at English Literature again. When I left university, I did so because I had the luxury of selfishness - I had no responsibilities and when I grew bored, that seemed like enough to make the course invalid and unworthy of my time. Now, with the benefit of hindsight and the newly-acquired maturity that motherhood has instilled in me, I can see that university is the means to an end. I may not enjoy every part of the course; at times I expect I will utterly despise it. But what it will give me at the end - a degree, a way in to a career that I have always wanted, and a way to both better my family and enhance my daughter's future -  is immeasurable.

I'm not stupid or naive or under any illusions. Going back into study is going to be bloody hard, and sacrifices will undoubtedly have to be made to allow this venture. It's not going to happen overnight; it may even be a good few years before we are stable enough, both financially and logistically, for me to even begin the education process again. But I've had what I would consider a small but highly significant epiphany, and since it's taken me so painfully long to come to this realisation (my fiancé and family will happily attest to this), I don't intend to be so negligent from now on. I also realise that I come across like I have something to prove, but in all honesty - yes, yes I do. I have something to prove to my family and my daughter, to the people who doubt my ability to better myself (and have expressed that doubt oh-so-condescendingly), but above all else, I have something to prove to myself. And I am not going to let a small thing like having a baby render me any less capable than anyone else.


I am ready to be me again.

The Skeleton Club.

It's very difficult for me to let go, on such an open blog. I kept an anonymous blog because I wanted an outlet, but then I realised I disliked the very reason I began it - the anonymity, the feeling that I was being somehow untruthful. One of my little quirks; starting a blog where I could lie and feeling in some way too guilty to fully utilise that one little comfort. It didn't help that I gave out the address and allowed people in, it tainted the purpose somehow, and meant I stopped the posts as I couldn't relax. It's not that I distrust those who I offered it to, it's just that to let them in instantly put me on my guard, and I realised that these people had access to intimate details about my life, and if I continued to use the blog they would indubitably learn details that I would rather keep very much locked away. The skeletons in my closet have plenty of room to dance around privately, without giving them public licence to embarrass me too.

It brings me to wonder whether I can ever truly open up like I'd love to be able to. Annoyingly, I know it would make me a far better writer, if I could attain a certain candor that as of yet I haven't been able to bring to my words. Connection is the key, and so far it has totally eluded me.

It's another reason I'd like to introduce more of my fictional writings to this blog; the falsity a writer like myself loves because it deflects attention from their own weaknesses, both literary and personal. This blog becomes a daunting challenge when it's centred upon 'reality', as it means I have to focus on myself - and if I don't like writing about my deeply personal thoughts and feelings, what else is left to say? It becomes hollow, stodgy and stale, missing the passion that a blog (essentially an internet diary) deserves.

So how do I change this? Do I even want to change this? Is it possible? I really don't know.

Initially this blog post had been entitled 'The Patriot', in relation to my recent trip to the Isle of Skye, which was both breathtaking and inspiring. And it was then that I realised, that to fully explain all of the emotions that the island had awoken in me, I had to understand and relate to the reasons I had connected to the place so entirely. The idea of the Skeleton Club came naturally, it seemed to fit perfectly with what I began writing about... The troubles and issues that have thus far prevented me from writing as well, as emotively and as eloquently as I want to. Skye, my writing, the skeletons - everything so intricately interconnected.

Opening up will take time, and I don't think I'm over-dramatising when I say that. My family know about this blog, they can see it, and if I'm entirely honest they know very little about who I really am and what I have endured as a person, and that really does restrict me, in bonds that I don't know if I'll be able to shake. My problem is that I offer excessive and unnecessary care to the thoughts of others, but hopefully time will erode the self-consciousness and the insecurity that have so far hampered my passion.

Wish me luck.

Prolonged Absences...

...Make it far more difficult to begin again.

I've been trying to kick-start this blog again for weeks, if not months now. I won't lie, a lot of my motivation just seemed to have vanished, with every aspect of life, but I'm beginning to view things with a sharper sense of focus now and things need to change. They just need to get better, simple as that.

My boyfriend has a beautifully simplistic view of the world, and I'm going to attempt to let that view wash over me too; me, the over-complicating, complex nutjob. As a luxury for a girl who drives herself to the brink of insanity on a near daily basis, I'm treating myself to a little dose of 'simple'.

And so I have some simple goals:

• Write, and write for me. One of my favourite quotes by Cyril Connolly - "Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."
• Sing again. For no reason, for no purpose, other than for enjoyment. Why must everything in life, be it hobbies, passions, loves, tattoos, be categorised and necessarily meaningful?
• Adopt a new way of looking at the future. And decide what I want to do with my life, not what makes anyone else happy or proud.
• See more of the people that make me smile, and laugh, and cry. Friendships are easily faded and I want mine to remain bright, shiny, untarnished by time.

Are these too idealistic? Possibly. Will I try my best to hold on to them? Absolutely.

Hopefully, I'll get the chance to blog again soon, and for longer. Maybe I'll start requesting topics, who knows...

Just because it was my choice.

Doesn't make it any easier. I am sorry.

Because there's nothing left to say and this will say it all.

Well you've done done me and you bet I felt it
I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted
I fell right through the cracks
and now I'm trying to get back
Before the cool done run out
I'll be giving it my bestest
Nothing's going to stop me but divine intervention
I reckon its again my turn to win some or learn some

I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm yours

Well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you're free
Look into your heart and you'll find love love love love
Listen to the music of the moment people dance and sing, we're just one big family
It's our God-forsaken right to be loved loved loved loved loved

So I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait I'm sure

There's no need to complicate
Our time is short
This is our fate, I'm yours

Do you want to, come on, scootch over closer dear
And I will nibble your ear

I've been spending way too long checking my tongue in the mirror
And bending over backwards just to try to see it clearer
But my breath fogged up the glass
And so I drew a new face and I laughed
I guess what I'll be saying is there ain't no better reason
To rid yourself of vanities and just go with the seasons
It's what we aim to do
Our name is our virtue

But I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm yours

Well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you're free
Look into your heart and you'll find that the sky is yours
so please don't, please don't, please don't.
There's no need to complicate
'cause our time is short
This oh, this oh, this is our fate, I'm yours.

Bring me the world.

Away from the lens.

Well, I know this blog is primarily concerned with my modelling, but at the same time I'm going to be cheeky and use it for my not-quite-so-exciting personal life too.

As anybody truly close to me will now, things have been pretty rocky recently in a lot of ways, and I've been coping with a lot of things, which I won't go into on my public blog (I have an anonymous one for that!)

But it's getting to the point that something has to give, and now, it has given. Because of financial strains, we were seriously considering giving up our flat and moving back home anyway but what we also realised is that doing so would give me the opportunity to do something I've always, always wanted to do - save money to go travelling. Since I started at university, if I'm entirely honest, I have utterly detested it; it has single-handedly sapped every ounce of passion I have for the subject - sucked it bone dry and snapped the shards. So I'm taking myself out of the situation for a year.

My parents seem to think I'm stupid enough not to return to my studies after a year, but I know myself that I have to - I have far too much ambition, and my life plans don't include me being stuck in a dead end job. I'm taking a year out, before my grades start to matter, and then I'll go back and I will succeed. They don't seem to realise that the doubt they have in me just reinforces my need to do well, but perhaps that's why they're discouraging me? I suppose underneath it all I'm still a quiet rebel; tell me I'm going to fail and I'll do anything I can to prove you wrong. Tell me I can't do something and I will dig my heels in all the way, even if it causes me to blister and stumble. Don't you all know me well enough by now?

Well anyway, I have the most itchy feet possible. I have always had this wanderlust, and in all honesty I blame the Lyon genepool for that (even though it's that side of the family trying to stop me now - and yes, I do know you're reading!). I love the thought of getting out a map, and taking a random chance on where the pin will land... I could follow it around the globe, soaking up every city, every country, every culture en route. I want to experience everything this world has to offer, and I'm not content to settle with the small corner I've already sampled.

So once I've sat my second year exams, I'm going to be sitting plotting, poring over travel brochures until I can come up with that perfect itinerary! I'm having trouble deciding between continents at the moment, and I don't have the budget to see all three of the ones I'm leaning towards - North America, Australia, and Europe. But I will see at least one of them, now it's just choosing which one.

I can't wait.