Warm Guns

The wooden drawer in my bedisde table came out with the sound of the trollies scraping along the frame. It was a quick sharp pull that made all the books and loose pennies slide forward with a jolt.
Under the books, I felt around in the darkness and dust until I found what I was looking for. I slid the barrel back as quietly as I could and settled the gun into the V of my right hand, all whilst my eyes were glued to the staircase in the corner of my room.
There was someone downstairs and I felt safer knowing I had my gun.

I wouldn't kill anyone, I knew that. Maybe a few warning shots and then if they started to come at me, or they were armed, I'd get him in the leg or something.
It was the middle of the night, so in my black boxers, old paint splatted t-shirt and my hair in a messy top knot, I padded down the stairs - gun out and up.
I wasn't expecting visitors.

My house is a nice house. I have a lot of books which are stacked up pretty high everywhere but aside from that it's tidy. It does however look strangely eeire with nothing but the street light coming in through the window on the landing.

As my feet crept along the carpet, I realised I had neglected my hoovering chores. Looking around the corner, gun first, I followed my bare feet across the corridor and listened at the door to the lounge. I could feel the breeze on my ankles at the crack of the door jam.
I edged the door open a little.
I felt a breeze across my face as I looked through the gap; the windows in the lounge were open.
Even thought he gun had slept unused for months now, it felt safe and warm in my hand, my palm slightly clammy against the hard grip.

Mentally, I counted down...

5

4

3

2

"Get down, I have a gun!" I shouted out into the darkness, the door swinging open. Silence.
I waited and heard nothing still. With my gun still up I flicked the lightswitch on with my elbow. The room flooded with llight and the blinds knocked against the open window.
My arms fell to my sides. I lef the window open when I was smoking in here this afternoon and must've forgotten to lock it closed again.
I did not have visitors.

The Silencing of my Lamb.

The baby screamed, and I was tired.
Screaming, screaming, screaming.
The highest pitch; the most blood curdling wail.
"I'm coming" I hissed into the darkness, knowing she wouldn't hear me nor understand.
Opening her bedroom door, the screams did not falter.
"Shh, now. Shhhh" My pleading whisper fell away into the darkness as I lifted the writhing screaming bundle to my chest and held her close.

"Shh now. Sleep. Shh my little lamb."

Screaming, screaming, screaming - I rocked her back and forwards, holding her closer and closer. I felt her gasp for breath in between screaming and still I held her closer. Her face so close to my chest. Tight.
Muffling, stifling and then nothing.
There was silence at last. Silence from the screaming.

Karma, Lush Solid Perfume.

Karma is my smell. My boyfriend smells it, or anything vaguely similar and thinks of me.  

With main notes of orange, patchouli, pine, lavendin, lemongrass, elemi and cassie the Lush website 

boasts that wearing this perfume feels like "running through the fields on your way to Woodstock." 

I can't say I know what that feels like, but wearing this perfume does make my day brighter. 

Kind of, hair flowing in the breeze, sunshine warming your skin, happy day - brighter. 

Spicy sunshine in a bottle that's also available in a spray and an atomiser. 

As well as a perfume, a soap, a karma combo shampoo bar, a bubble bath bar... The karma list is endless.

(I also recommend the Karma body bubble bar. Leaves your skin soft and everything smelling wonderful!) 

I'm not sure what either elemi or cassie is but if they contribute to creating this magic stick then the more the merrier. 

A spicy, happy smell that gets the day going but also manages to keep you warm throughout the whole day. 

Like I said, magical sunshine in the bottle... And only £5 for one stick, each stick lasting me around two/three months. 

JK Rowling; The Saviour

God knows what I would have done throughout my childhood without the Harry Potter books to keep me sane, but for other people out there in the world these books were literally life saving reading material. 

Evanna Lynch, aged 11, battled Anorexia for 2+ years until she managed to gather the courage to write to her author-hero JK Rowling. The Irish actress, Evanna, wrote to Rowling to thank her for the magical wizarding world of Harry Potter that she could escape to; the books gave her "hope". 

Writing back "like a councellor" Rowling encouraged Evanna, through multiple letters to overcome her eating disorder with bravery and then to strive for the role of Luna Lovegood; the role Evanna is now famous for creating. Miss Lynch is noted to have looked up to Luna throughout reading the novels thus amplifying the significance if her finally landing the role. 

"Anorexia is destructive, not creative. The brave thing to do was not to succumb to it..." Lynch recalls from the resonating advice given by Joanna "Jo" Rowling. 

Evanna is now a survivor of Anorexia and has not returned to her disorder, she's pursuing her acting career and also working with the Harry Potter Alliance Charity where she gets to write and talk to young girls about body issues. 

Thank you, JK. 

Three for a girl, four for a boy...

So, I've been thinking about pregnancy a lot lately. Not in like a "Ooh, I'm feeling all maternal" way, but just in a pondering way. More like a "hmmm" than a "ooh" way. Gettit? 

70% of the girls in my college class are pregnant or have already had one child. Okay, that's clearly not an exact percentage because I'm not that mathematically motivated, but I'm pretty sure 70% is an accurate representation of what is going on. Okay, back to my original point; There's a lot of girls who're pregnant. And now a bunch of my adult friends are getting married and getting pregnant.

I don't need that for me now, I don't want that right now, I'm happy where I am but I can't help but ponder it all. 

The girls in my college class can't have planned their pregnancies, surely? They can't have wanted that for themselves at 18/19/20? They're Facebook's give a different idea though, so many announcements of "happy news" and news they have "waited so long to share..." Along with various photos of blurry bean-shaped things in a sea of black that is apparently what the pregnancy-savvy call Ultrasounds. 

I was talking to someone today who's bruised their coccyx doing God knows what, I offered them some painkillers as any friendly person would do. However, the person in question knows that I don't take paracetamol or ibuprofen, I take Cocodomol; just because I'm a wimp and I really don't like pain. She declined my offer, with "No thank you, I can only take paracetamol at the moment." Something clearly code for "I can't put strong pharmaceuticals in my body currently because I'm carrying an unborn foetus..."

Does pregnancy really put a lot of strain on what you can and can't do? 

Are there things apart from the obvious narcotics that you can't ingest? 

Am I wrong to believe that if you're pregnant you're meant to glow and be happy and glossy all the time? Is that not what pregnancy feels like, even if you look like the cautionary whale? 

Maybe I have more to learn than I thought.... 

Lex 

Dangerous Days of Being a Writer

Today I got a glimpse of what it might be like to be a real life writer. I got up when my boyfriend went to his "proper-job" at nine, I showered and I got myself dressed all with the intention of having a productive day.
The morning was productive to be honest. I wrote my Mis En Place for the day - something I've picked up from my chef-boyfriend - it's basically a list of everything I've got to do today. For a chef it might be a list of preparation and various chopping to do whereas my MEP list includes things like going to the bank, checking my hours at work, returning things to various stores etc.
Anyways, with the intention of going into town and doing all of my things I walked into town around 2ish because I intended to go to Starbucks for their 3pm-5pm Happy Hour to sample my new favourite; the triple caramel frappucino. However, the Winchester store is closed for rehab until July. This made me incredibly sad.

Coffee-less, I completed all my errands and I got the bus home.
Monster in hand, due to my lack of coffee, I decided to watch one or two episodes of Grey's to inspire me and calm me at the same time. This is where the productiveness stops. I watched three episodes and promptly fell asleep.
Now, I'm four hours later and still watching Grey's. Now my housemates are home, and I've still done nothing. It's not that I lack motivation - I'm motivated, but I'm motivated to do everything the hard part is deciding what to do first.
My dissertation.
My journal.
My poetry work.
My blog.
My innocent earnings for more twitter followers.

Either way, and for no apparent reason, I have done nothing today and I am feeling far too over emotional to talk about it anymore. Maybe it's days like this when I realize I shouldn't be a writer because I would do nothing and have no money and die.

Whatever.
Lex.

Winchester Tells Everyone...

To my horror, a student at Winchester University has created a Facebook page; "Winchester University Tell Him/Her"
This webpage allows you to send in tips and things you haven't got the guts to say in person, which are then posted anonymously on the Facebook page, for all to see.
Does that ring a bell? Set us on The Upper East Side and we've got our very own Gossip Girl.

This is a bad thing. Obviously. Whether the things posted are true or not, it's a degrading way of dealing with things that we are old enough to know how to cope with by now. I had more faith in my generation, that we wouldn't resort to some kind of Gossip Girl - Burn Book. It would seem I was wrong.

"Calling somebody else fat will not make you any thinner. Calling somebody stupid will not make you any smarter. And you've got to stop calling each other sluts and whores.It just makes it all right for guys to call you that."

 

Does that sound familiar? It should. It's from the world-famous movie Mean Girls. And I hate to side with cliche, but it's true. What's the point in standing up for ourselves constantly if everyone else believes it's okay to publically humiliate us and tear us down all the time?

Although not personally affected by the website, why am I the only person who feels this is a terrible idea?
I expected more of you Winchester.

Lex.