Wednesday, February 03, 2016

To be overtly pensive about the fickle friend that is 'Time' can haunt thoughts at every moment, but to get nostalgic and sentimental about life and the choices that we make or the ones that are thrust upon us... I believe that is less self-indulgent and more necessary so that we can allow some self-awareness to simmer near the surface of our facades that we have spent so long cultivating. 

It seems that nostalgia and creativity are intertwined as I cannot put pen to paper without reflecting on the past and musing about what is to come. 

I suppose I should explain...

I came to the Far East with the Duke of Albany hot on my heels as we discussed attempting to pursue our relationship for a third time. But the powers that be dictated otherwise and he had to return to Bohemia. We have corresponded since then, and while he was here in the Orient I did allow the notion of absolution to cross my mind, but it seems that resentment and bitterness are hard emotions to swallow. That and pride.

So I then had the chance to breathe, on my own, on the other side of the world. It was exhilarating. Is exhilarating. 

There was a gorgeous man who caught my eye and took me on a whirlwind romance that lasted far longer than I intended, but I knew that relationship would be short-lived. As wonderful as it is to be adored, living on a pedestal can be exhausting and far less satisfying than one might think. I have had liaisons and infrequent frissons with other men, but only one has stood out and has the potential to go the distance. 

I am afeared to write much more on the matter. It is far easier to find objective words about men that no longer mean anything to me, but writing about someone who has opened my eyes to who I am. Someone who has given me an insight I didn't realise I lacked?

Words are not precious enough to describe him, nor pencil marks to give him form. Nay, even oils do not do him justice as I have so much to thank him for. And it still surprises me that his heart is mine. How even? Why me? How...?

I daren't question it nor speak above a whisper in case it is all a dream. 

D. S.

Thursday, January 21, 2016

My last post was rather nostalgic, and overtly selfish- for the new year I shall focus only on that which makes me happy. Because obviously it is only MY happiness that matters. 

That sounds like me in one of my more petulant moods, though it does seem to be a recurring theme in my life. Trying to make other people happy only ends in dissatisfaction and deflated expectations. However negative I may be sounding at current, I am actually grinning at a song that has begun to play, enjoying the luxury of time to myself to do what it is I love; to write, to draw, to create, to be me.

What Can I  Do? A very good question Rufus Wainwright. What else can I do but be myself? Even if that is occasionally selfish, conceited, arrogant and rude? I have the music just loud enough that I can't hear the outside world, and it's not the song itself that brings me joy, but rather the memories that have clung to the poetical words sung from a mouth more honest than my own. 

Had I spent the time to think or begun to plan my year as so many of my contemporaries have done, I would certainly say that my life has diverged somewhat from the original course I had set out on. But that in itself is why I do NOT plan. How can you guess what life will throw at you? 

Love? Death? Birth? Marriage? Natural disasters? Even those who claim to have a so-called-gift would never bet anything more their name on some of these occurrences that are just that... Inexplicable occurrences. It is a good idea to have a broadly, sketched-in-pencil, vague idea of what you would like to happen in your life. But a concrete plan? 


You're tempting Mother Nature to throw her worst at you, and I have no longing to enter into a game of wits with my goddess.

So, this year... Three weeks in and already I am claiming failure. Although I disagree with myself. I feel that the current turn of events (though slightly unexpected) are for the best. A positive influence that I wouldn't have dared to imagine. But then, only time will tell.

D. S.

Monday, January 04, 2016

As much of a cliché as it is to state 'new year, new me' at this time every three hundred and sixty five and a quarter days, I don't feel that urge. I don't feel any different at all to how I felt this time last week. I am more determined to focus on my favoured crafts; writing and drawing, but those are longings that I have all year round. The start of a new year only reminds me that life goes on, and there is nothing at all we can do about it.

I don't want to compromise myself, nor constantly adapt to suit my surroundings. I wish I could accept that I will not fit into every environment, but should rather spend time searching for my natural habitat - whatever that may be.

Anyhow, I have returned to the Far East with a bronze on my shoulders, and a flurry of fond memories, though it is truly wonderful to be home. Yes. I'm home. It may not be my native or natural habitat, but I have adapted the Orient to suit my needs. It is my home. For now. But I felt a huge release and the utmost relief as I stepped foot on the familiarly foreign soil. I have said similar things about various countries, but for the first time in half a decade I'm not considering where I can go next. 

I'm content with the space I am occupying, I just need to figure out how to spend more time doing what it is I love. 

As far as men are concerned, I am doing my utmost to keep them from my thoughts... There are always suitors, whether conjured up from the past, those who I can see and touch and taste in my present, or those that will somehow find a way into my future. I have spent far too many hours and days dwelling on these men. They aren't going anywhere, so I may as well accept that and do what makes me happy.

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

I close my eyes for what seems like a few minutes only to open them and discover I am once again staring a new year in the face, having little to no time to say goodbye to the year that was. I suppose I should fill in all that has happened during my adventures down under, all sorts of rumours have been flying as I haven't had the time, nay, the strength, to put the rumours to bed. But lying here in the sweltering morning sun on the last day of the year I feel I ought to give an explanation of sorts.

My last post, short though it was, dabbled in poetry and riddles, though it wasn't particularly clever nor rhythmic. It hopefully would have made you think of the land down under, a vast continent of reds and yellows, not too dissimilar from my childhood in Africa. My Mother has resided in the Antipodes for quite some time now, and it was about time I paid her a visit. All was going well until, on Christmas Day, my knee and leg seemed entirely out of sorts. I cannot begin to describe the pain, and though I am now on the mend, I had to go under the butcher's knife which rendered me somewhat incapacitated. The country has many wonderful views and creatures to ogle at, but it did rather dampen my spirits as I was confined to my bed chambers for the festive period.

Now that my spirits soar, of course it is time for my bags to be packed as I ready myself for my return journey to the Orient. I am looking forward to giving home; though it is certainly the strangest place I have ever lived, I feel comfortable and happy and of course it helps that it is mine. So as I prepare for another journey, the sands of time continue to pour, beckoning the start of a new year ever closer.

Resolutions should be at the forefront of my mind, but in all honesty, other than chasing my creative dreams, there is nothing more I wish to change. Maybe I'll just continue with those I conjured up last year...

It's amazing how much can change in a single year. I daren't begin to imagine what this next year has to offer.

D. S.
Have a guess as to where I am in the world...? I have allowed myself to let go of my many responsibilities and travel even further away from my home and the Far East in order to frolic in the waves of respite and relaxation. It has been months since I last had a prolonged period of time to myself, experiencing the world through my unadulterated eyes, and discovering a new land.

Though Christmas is only a few days away, I am once again on the Southern Hemisphere and couldn't feel further away from the scorching fires, roasted marshmallows and goblets of mulled wine that I gave become so accustomed to. Instead I lie under the baking sun, dashing in and out of the tumbling waves, cooing in awe and wonder at the flora and fauna this vast country has to offer.

Have you worked out where I am yet?

It reminds me of my homeland: a yellow grass, 
Baked by an unrelenting sun, warms the morning 
To an almost unbearable heat, so that the midday has
An eerie silence of bodies hiding in the shade, waiting
For a distraction, to think of anything other than the heat.
Though similar, it has a more cultured heritage, a pride,
An arrogance, judging all those who dare appear uninvited.
Compared to my homeland, where I am now makes me thankful,
For all that I have and the future I am offered. No fear, I can speak.

Travel if you can darlings - at worst you'll have fond memories. At best you'll have your mind opened.

D. S.