When I was first given this topic on day -2 of this writing challenge I will admit to briefly considering the true, but admittedly rather generic platitudes I could envisage throwing its way: 'Twitter...
Eyes lock
A moment's pause, a hitch of breath.
A thud down through the pit of your stomach
Suddenly aware of your tongue, your lips, the moisture in your mouth, the tension of muscles as you slowly swallow for no reason.
A sigh.
Of contentment, of relief: a burden lifting.
No distraction, no gimmicks,...
Dear Future Husband,
Hi :)
Alright, so, nice one Abi, a smiley face potentially not the best first impression, but I'm nervous OK: a life sentence is a pretty big deal, and I was just trying to be polite.
I have so many questions, least of all who you are, where you are, and how we might come to...
It's funny when you look back on the choices and circumstances that have led you to a certain point or place and consider the exact chain of events that have resulted in your now day-to-day.
I read a quotation recently that proffered the idea that "There's nowhere you should be other than where you...
The man bun.
A seemingly simple thing. A sweep of hair, a grasp of hands, a twist of the wrist: done.
The archetypal feminine re-purposed to serve the strongest of jawlines, cheekbones and shoulders.
There's...
This is getting boring now.
It's what 3, 4 days in a row where I've found myself this close to the deadline, this much in need of sleep, this desperate for words, just any words.
This isn't creativity, this is sabotage.
Live to work, work to live, there's a fine line between passion and pressure and...
So I've just got in from coming inexplicably and hilariously 4th in a St Patrick's Day-themed pub quiz, in honour of my housemate's birthday.
(The quiz was St Patrick's Day themed in honour of St Patrick and his day though, just to be clear)
This is a really bad habit that I've gotten myself in to,...
So I've done that thing whereby I've come home intending to go to bed early and fend off anymore illness and promptly fallen asleep without having written anything, only to wake up at 20 to 12 bereft of words, the owner of one considerably befuddled head.
It's now 23:48 and I'm not sure what I can...
Mums.
A mother is a funny thing.
We have all had one at one point or another.
Some more than one, some still none to speak of.
Like Mother like Daughter, Mum's the word, and Mother knows best.
I love my Mum, and for her sins my Mum loves me, but this isn't always the case, not for everyone.
It's...
Again I've gone almost a whole day and not typed anything in this big, blank box in the back end of blogger.
Oh I've written today, yes, I wrote on the train on the way home, but by its very nature the result is a somewhat rambling stream of consciousness, so I'll spare you that.
I realise that in...
So it keeps happening that I find myself in the pub on a Friday night not having written anything as the clock approaches Midnight.
Again I remind myself that this challenge was never designed to impede on other experiences but rather enhance them, but at the same time I am beyond glad that this sense...
And some people, sir, do both.
It was tempting today to simply offer a quotation from the master, Terry Pratchett, as a mark of respect, but even without the impossible nature of narrowing it down to a single string of words, I can't help but feel that would be less a tribute, more a disservice to...
Today I had to make the decision to gather my things, switch off my computer and leave work early.
I was attempting that age-old trick of simply powering through and pretending that there wasn't in fact intense pressure building up somewhere behind my cheekbones, and that it wasn't pushing inwards,...
Set yourself a challenge to write every day for 40 days, there's nothing quite like it.
A day without a writing direction, without any kind of useful inspiration, and just starting to type 8 minutes before a new day.
Make that 7.
And now 4.
I need to write something, anything, but my brain is...
Socks are funny things.
I know people who point-blank refuse to wear matching socks, and one person who will colour co-ordinate his entire outfit right down to them.
Since leaving University I now pair my socks differently to how I used to when living at home, to the way that my parents taught me.
I...
I don't have one.
Or at least, not yet.
The title of favourite person is one not easily-earned, but then nor should it be.
I want my favourite person to be the person I can't wait to spend time with, to shower praise and good things upon, but not be afraid to call them out when they're in the wrong....
It's 3:33pm and I am yet to have breakfast.
I can count the number of times I have eaten breakfast in the last month on one hand. Comfortably.
I "get" breakfast and its ever-en-vogue sister brunch, but it simply doesn't factor in my alimentary arsenal.
It being the 'most important meal of the day,...
More.
More of what I love, more of what makes me happy.
More of the things I know and love, and more of the things that I don't. Yet.
More sitting in parks in warm, sunny places with a notebook, pen and the assembled untold stories of the people passing by.
More laughing.
More late nights, more long...
Accents are a distinguishing thing.
Patchwork and nuanced they hint at a back story, mottled and daubed with flecks of countries, conversations and circumstances we have known. It's through this inflection and intonation that we map the journeys of others, the rivers of speech patterns carving their...
I have never worn contact lenses.
I've never really had a desire to.
Some people want to be rid of glasses, of contacts, so completely that they take lasers to their eyes in an effort to permanently negate the need for them.
I on the other hand like wearing glasses. I like the way I look wearing them...
These are simply words to fill a page, words to fulfill an obligation.
I am the very definition of spent, and it is sheer determination alone guiding my finger touches across this keyboard.
When I set myself this challenge I'd not really comprehended the task I was undertaking. 40 days is a surprisingly...
An experiment.
How I came to be sitting in this pub; a literal history of the people in this pub.
Literally. In an effort to in-absolutely-no-way pass off some of my writing burden I asked the 6 people assembled to write a line on the topic of how they came to be sitting where they are.
In the pub.
1....
We spend a third of our lives sleeping.
We sleep in, with, and around.
Encouraged by those around us we sleep on it, sleep it off and often lose it altogether.
Sleep is the facilitator of...