The Floating SeaHorse and the Epidemic of Dream-sickness....

An Angel's Despair...

The throbbing pain against her ripped jeans had gone numb, as had the cold bloodstained pavement, covered with shattered glass. In the whirling haze of lashing wind she could still see the thundering clouds of night. She whispered in darkness, rain wet against her cracked lips, "I broke my wings."

jonathoncomfortreed on DeviantART

In the arms of an Angel, far away from here

From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness  you fear

You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie

In the arms of an angel may you find comfort here.

(Martin Stranka)

So greetings Dear onessss,

       Today I've been thinking about angel's and seahorses. I know hey, deep, deep subject. :] But what is the world without deep subject's like this? Heehee. 

       

      Nah my own angel's a pretty cool guy: though I guess it depends whether you're thinking of the dark angel kind or the good-at-heart kind. Oh and by the way...what is it with the obsessive amount of angel and vampire books out at the moment? It's as though everyone had the same idea at once and now we're all just sick to death of it all. (Well I am).

        Ah and in my defence, before I started hearing about all these teen romance books between angels and girls or vice versa, I (honestly!), wrote a small novel that was very similar in genre. One day I just woke up and literally I was burning, burning to write. It took me a week to get out the first half of the draft on paper, and now it's long-complete.

   Luckily, I made sure that although the novel did circle around a young girl and a fractured angel named Mahan, I didn't let the romance side get in the way. It was more a premise that told how you should stick to what you believe, even when everything's beating against you.

   So now heehee, I just feel cliché with all the other similar books out when honesty I did write it just because I had to...not because it was the current theme in the market.

     But...my angel's were/are pretty cool. Dark angel's in the story have shifting, black tattoos that mark them out, and with all angel's in the book, human's can see them, but they only see them as human's: aka, they aren't as magnificent-looking, they don't have wings and usually they're wearing business suites. (For whatever reason)

    

      In the novel, the girl is wounded by this dark angel called Kanah who is basically a psycho whose convinced that Mahan belongs to him and his dark king, and that if he is pushed enough he will eventually give up his convictions. The injury causes her to be able to see things that no one else can (such as two wolves that happen to be as large as horses almost) and it moves on from a plague called Angelo a Death that nearly wipes out all of Australia, to a series of violent murders based in Sydney.

      

Do you know the picture of that seahorse is a tribal version of one? Seahorses...I don't know why but they make me feel inexpressibly sad. If I ever came back as something it would either be a seahorse, a cat or a dragon (if they were real). 

 Ah and on a side note, when I referred to dark angel above, I meant Sodom, my confidante. In that...for lack of heartlessness I see that deep down, even though he's a vain, devil-may-care shape shifter who will do and say anything to get what he wants, he does have a heart to him. Though by now nearly all of it has been eaten away.

You know...when I used to dream more, I would experience this phenomenon in my dream-worlds that I began to call Dream Sickness.

What, you may ask, is Dream Sickness?

    I've always believed that for one reason or another dreams tell you things about your own life and problem's and sometime's even the lives of those you know. Dream Sickness, I'd see it in my dreams' as a deep, numb blue atmosphere that would gather about someone I knew in the dream. They would be melancholy and very tired...like the sort of tiredness you get when you're somewhere bitterly cold. That something in them was sick in spirit.

       Often I'd speak to the person later in real life, and I'd discover that they were a bit or a lot down in spirit. 

Ah and nightmares! I have few and far between - though I do have heaps of dreams that I guess you could say are nightmarish (such as a fair few where the Joker from the Dark Knight was chasing me around a cabin with his knife, threatening to do things to me..heehee)

       Nah the dream that really scared me was odd. I was Kate from the LOST TV series, and I was as old as her too. I had a young child, a boy, and I know that for some reason he disappeared out of my life. Now in the main part of the dream I was living in a Queensland-er-style house that overlooked all this acreage and this gigantic gum tree. I was overseeing a construction project in which all these worker's were building a shack or hut at the base of the gum tree.

Now even though I had approved its' construction, I couldn't understand how it would work. See the shack, it was so so small that I didn't see how anyone could live in it.

   About this point in the dream, and out of nowhere, my missing son and another little girl appeared. They walked out onto the green lawn just in front of the half-built shack and my boy looked up at me and then pointed at the hut.

"Don't go into the house mummy, please don't go into the house!"

He screamed this, with tears streaming down his face and fear in his eyes and in that moment, we all realized that there was something terribly wrong with the hut, that it was dangerous.

All of us began to run away from the shack in terror and about that point I abruptly woke up. The fear from that dream was still with me and for almost a minute I believed that 'the house' my kid referred to was my own house in real life.

Scary, scary dream heehee. (No, do not

laugh please.)  

So I will leave you with a thought-provoking question...are you ready?.........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................Do you like tea? :D

   No, really I'm curious to know who dreams' in black and white, because there was only ever one friend I had who dreamt without colour (and who saw the moon backwards from his home country). No clues heehee. 

   So I will drift back into mediocrity and the listless task of finding a job. HarHarHar...

Dasvidaniya friends,

Miss CLScarlett xx

P.S. The turtle couldn't help us...so watch the balloons and all of us float...

           (Ah I love you if you know what that means)

The Little Black Bottle of Potent Sunshine and a slice of Courteous Absence...

       I had this amazing dream once.....

       And...that's all I'm going to tell you, have a nice day.

       Heehee, nah, I'll let you in a little bit. This dream, well in general I used to dream ten times more than I do now. Fabulous dreams they were, full of excitement and impossible situations, and more often than not I would find myself being chased by the IMA or another government agency, but hey here's the twisted part, I actually really enjoyed being pursued and hunted.
     
        Maybe it is a vanity thing, a part of me that wants to be the object for some devil-may-care person's obsession...or rather the type that you would have glimpsed with Reno and Cara in my novel.

        But this dream I had, it was one of those dreams that I think of as closer to reality or physically just-about-there. These dreams feel grander and more deep and twisted, almost like de ja vu. In this particular one, that evolved around my stories. I had it the night before I moved away from my old home a few years back, and it was the largest dream I've ever had (too long-winded in fact to put here completely) (and yes, I know you're wondering how I've managed to fill this blog up so far just talking about the dream but never describing it. Heehee.

       So....

  I was me, but I also had an 'other' half who in the dream, was Cara from my novel. She was me, and I was her, yet we were separate. Similar to mystical connections you read in books or see in movies, and similarly...her pain was my pain.
  We lived in an apartment by ourselves and basically out of nowhere one day, we were contacted - or rather confronted - by a secret government agency that was basically an extremely stylish version of the IMA and the MIB.
   We were called to a meeting at their agency, and because my dragon half and I realized that they might turn to more drastic measures if we refused to come, we decided to.
    The agency was located in this huge, blank office-looking building that was situated in the sunniest part of the city, surrounded by palm trees and blue skies. We both got into the lift at the base and travelled to probably the top level.
     When we arrived there, it got very weird very fast, starting with the fact that we were straight off confronted by a group of agents led by a woman agent. What I meant before by stylish is that their black and white suits were like the ones you see in ultra expensive Hollywood tuxe shops including these coolio shades.
    But what was weird was that somehow these group of agents hopped into the lift and went down while we were still getting out of the same lift. They also gave us both a knowing, triumphant smile, the sort that showed that they knew...in the end, that we would give in and allow ourselves to be caught up with the agency.
    Now when those lift doors opened for us - and after the group of agents - we were confronted by this room of un-knowable size. I say un-knowable because of the fact that it was stuffed full of hundreds of colourful, moving aliens and people. That's why I mentioned the MIB, because basically that's what the agency dealt with, aliens and other odd creatures.
    One of the head agents greeted my dragon-self and I, making us feel as if we were important and loved. He began to talk to us about something, but halfway through we were distracted by a commotion. It was horrible.

   
      Basically they had this gigantic squid/alien/parasite chained down in a section that looked like a boxing ring and they were literally pumping its' insides out using a hose. It went for ages and was very gruesome, eventually ending with all this black stuff cascading out of the creatures' squid-like flaps and spaces on its' head and neck.
     We freaked out after seeing that and both of us left in a hurry.
     However, later that day, during the night in fact, I woke to find that my dragon-self had disappeared from our apartment, and somehow I knew that she had gone back to the agency.
   I stormed there, went up the lift only to find the same room near empty and in shadows. There, in a similar ring to what the squid creature was held in, my dragon-self stood, chained to its' sides.
  Only the chains weren't completely constrictive. In fact what I saw was many agents watching and taking notes while my dragon-self was forced to dance, even though it pained her. The head agent told me she'd done it to protect me.
 
   I was devastated pretty much and it's hard to describe the feeling even as that. It was like a piece of me had been ripped out, and I'm still not sure if I was ever able to save her. But yeah, it hurt.

   So that's my epic dream. After which I woke straight up and just knew that it was somehow important for me to write it down.

   Well on a lasting side note, I have decided to delve into the odd waters of freelance writing. I have a possible break in my fledgling career due on Saturday morning, and really...it excites me, this new adventure waiting.

   Also, for one reason or another I have decided not to continue trying to work for the navy or army. And it is incredible how much lighter I feel having made that choice.

    Thing's are pretty good right now, and life seems to have more light.

    Follow the Sun dear ones,

     Miss CLScarlett xx

the Floating Lights I saw and the Voice from Beneath the Moon...

enmi on deviantArt

Starlight...

Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die

Starlight
I will be chasing the starlight
Until the end of my life
I don't know if it's worth it anymore

Hold you in my arms

I just wanted to hold....
...You in my arms

My life
You electrify my life
Let's conspire to ignite
All the souls that would die just to feel alive

But I'll never let you go
If you promised not to fade away
Never fade away

     You know how sometimes you just get to stages in your life when you know something's about to be taken from you...or that the only way to be happy or whole again is to give it or them up? I know everyone faces this in different ways but lately I've been faced with it again, and before in my past. It almost makes you wonder if all these little things we have to give up are training us for when we have to give up life. After all, how else could those people on their death beds be so content?

Maybe I just always fall for the devil-may-care guys or people, and in the end I have to give them up, even though I feel I need them. Sometimes it's just the devil-may-care figures in my own head.

This isn't right though, and I can say this or that but in the end I know two things. The first is that eventually I'll have to give up the toxic parts of my life and somehow figure out how to get out of the labyrinth my mind has become. 

Secondly, I know I won't do this for a long time, and indeed I don't even feel inclined to do it. Even if I wanted to escape: how?

  Sometimes we all get into such a rut that even though we see how high the walls are and how surely we've forgotten who we used to be and the potential we once had to be happy in life and ourselves, we can't get out. Often it's too late by the time we realize that we're even in a rut, and mine keeps swinging in tighter and tighter circles around me.

  What really makes me mad though is that I've been in ruts before and I thought myself rid of them yet here I am, years later...in another damn one. 

  But...perhaps you as much as I or anyone I know could take comfort from this:

     Rut's eventually end, though it may take years, but they will end. 

      Are you in a rut, you say of yourself? 

      If you feel trapped, isolated and that the weight you began feeling in your heart and body is growing by the day or even the hour...well then that's a rut. Usually they pass, though often it means you reach a rather big climax, as though the only way to escape them are drastic measures. 

    It will end.

Mainly (if you're wondering what on dear earth I'm talking about), I have to be cryptic about what my main problem is now because for one reason or another it may put me at a disadvantage to say exactly what it's all about.

   Meaning...through one various poison or another that I use to hone my writing and release me from my doubts, I have found a way to be closer to my favourite characters that I've written about over the years, (physically close and tangible in some ways) and in all fact the voice I hear is far more positive it seems than when I'm not in such a way.

   So really, to have to give up something that brings me closer to the comforting arms of someone I care about...well, there's my own personal labyrinth. 

So on and so forth, but hey...things'll turn out alright. Eventually.

     Thing's aren't so bad anyway, ah! But I did think of a little something, and really this is all soo fascinating about Chinese years and symbol's, that maybe I think about it too much. But...I am a phlegmatic, water, Pisces, summer Monkey. 

     Yeah, figure that one out heehee.

    Ah! I also recall that yesterday I was reclining somewhere inside my house when I heard this very soft thumping against a nearby window. I went to investigate and found this incy wincy bird banging itself against the glass. But seriously this bird was psychedelic! It had all these colours and markings that made it seem like something you'd see if you were hallucinating. I caught it in my hands and then released it to the world. My first wholly saved bird heehee.

   Reminds me actually of when I was living on the island and some friends and I were joking around and taking these sort of herbal remedies that were meant to make you as airy as a fairy, and well...not much happened, though some guys did play a joke on me heehee. In that I saw a small bird trapped inside a room and told the others about it and dead-flat they told me that there was no bird.

  Oh that spun me out a bit heehee. (By the way, yess there was a bird :] )

Lastly, I wanted to leave you with one of my first attempts at a short story that I ever wrote. Doesn't really make that much sense and I've never been entirely good in writing short stories, but it should humour you...

Until next time Feathered ones,

Miss CLScarlett xx

The Purple Damascus.

 ...Looking....

    Looking into a mirror, a reflection of your past,

 Watching others as they watch you, alone on a starry night,

    Feeling the beat of a thousand drums,

  A sound that has no ending,

 Staring into a tear-stained window,

   Dusty and full of the future......

   Eden shivered, a strange sadness filling her heart as she pulled her gaze away from the words. The words that lay between her and her new life.

  Of course it wasn’t the most significant thing. Not life changing, or something that would make the world a better place. She doubted that it would even help her. Yet there she stood, on the doorstep of ‘The Purple Damascus’ about to start living again.

  

   Zel allowed his bubble-gum-green eyes to rest on the girl. In curiosity he watched as she stumbled inside, a desperate look glazing her face.

  Her coal-black hair fell down in rapids, glistening and silky. Her eyes were also a startling blue he noted in surprise. Yet despite her unique hair and eye colour the girl intrigued him. Stepping from behind the doorway he slowly began to move closer to her, wanting her, understanding her...

  One of the other attendants moved in front of Zel at the last minute and quickly greeted the girl. Her eyes flickered momentarily towards Zel before she became immersed in what the attendant was telling her. Understanding that his moment had come and gone Zel once more retreated to the opposite side of the door.

  Silver light flickered like a broken window, spreading its’ comforting arms across the roof. Eden looked away from the green-eyed boy and re-focused on the man that now stood in front of her. He was explaining to her about something that related to economics.

  Eden frowned, wondering where the boy had disappeared to.

She jerked in fright as the man asked her a direct question. Muttering vaguely about the first thing that came to her mind she turned once again to where she had last seen the boy.

  He had such amazing eyes she reasoned, ones that talked and showed emotion.

  One Hour later........

    Eden sucked in a mouthful of fresh air. Closing her eyes she pondered on the decision that she had made, was it the right one? Was it really good and right to change the way nature worked?

   Eden smiled, even if it was, she had already made the choice and they had issued her with a pack. They had decided that this pack in particular best suited her as a person. So grasping the thin, silver disk tightly to her chest she began to leave.

  Making her way down the hallway that lead to the backdoor Eden allowed her thoughts and feelings to blur, knowing that now, everything would be different.

  Arriving at the back door she swung it open to an unusual sight;

 The sky was a rich red to the East and black storm clouds consumed the sky. Bucket loads of rain thundered down onto Eden and drenched her to the bone while white lightning riddled the sky.

   Running out into the storm Eden began to head for the end of the alleyway. All of a sudden she found herself slipping on the wet pavement and she fell to her knees. The package flew from her hands and landed in a puddle a meter away.

   Slowing getting to her feet Eden was alerted to the sound of soft footfalls nearby. Looking up, she immediately met eyes with the boy.

   Zel carefully bent down and picked up the package. Holding it up into the harsh storm light he then wiped the disk clean with his shirt. Walking up to the girl he handed it to her.

   “Thank you.” Eden said in relief.

 Zel smiled and allowed the girl to continue walking. Yet as she walked away he was hit by such a great amount of passion and sadness that he called after her.

  “Wait.”

Eden looked back at the boy and cocked her head.

  “Yes?”

Pondering on what to say Zel finally spoke.

  “ You do know what that package means don’t you? What it will do to your life?”

  Eden nodded.

   “I do know, yes.”

 “And you’re willing to risk all of your hopes, your dreams, your goals.... just to have security?”

 Eden looked down, suddenly uncertain about her choice.

  Walking up to the girl Zel touched her shoulder and whispered.

 “There is so much more that you can offer to the world, so much more that is in you... do not look to substantial things, things that won’t last forever. Yet look to me, for guidance. I am your new life.”

  Eden looked deep into the boys eyes, her own full of wonder. And she knew, that this was what she had been searching and looking for. That she needed. In that moment she fell in love, her heart lighting up with something like a fire and gratefully she took his hand.

    As the storm slowly passed from the low horizon, as the sky cleared and the evening star burst to life, the figures of two walked slowly down the street, both content with all. Behind them lay the crumpled package and with it their old life and ahead lay the brilliant future. The future that was set in stone since the beginning of time, in their hearts and the surrounding world and Eden finally, at long last understood the last words that were on the door of ‘The Purple Damascus.’

 ... Holding a shining light as you rise into the sky,

      The stars and planets surrounding you,

 Watching the wind sway the trees,

    Causing them to curl,

 Swimming in a crystal stream, your feet

   Brushing shells, sand and coral....

   

Take the Apple, Spin around twice and chant 'Lots of Rice'...

Welcome to the....

   As a rule, all who enter the Sinister Meeting Room must be mad to a seven quarter degree and really the only way to arrive here at all is to become lost.

   Here's a few instructions if you do happen to be heading the wrong way (or you're just at a complete loss from the start). So...

  1. Wait until approximately two in the morning, give or take a few minutes.

  2. Walk clockwise through your house ten times, starting from the kitchen and ending each time in the smallest room inside your house. Mind, you must not take yourself seriously in the least and often humming 'It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas' certainly helps too.

  3. Through one way or another you should get in, though be warned...you should bring a teacup along as payment (and we do sooo love tea in the Sinister Meeting Room.)

  4. This is the final step, you should come to a series of staircases very similar to the photo below:

  Obviously, you should follow them...right down below, and please! No quailing due to its' damp and gloomy appearance.

  4. (Tricked you! Not the final step heehee). At the base of these many stairs (and on a side note you may well come across some odd things on the way down so please don't touch or take anything). There should be a short corridor waiting for you, and depending on the time of year there should be a bed with a bear or a lion or some other sort of creature sitting on it.

 5. Under all circumstances you should ignore it.

 6. You should have arrived by now...though who can really tell. Sit down at the tables and chairs, have a cup of tea and play The Sinister Meeting Room's most favourite game: Lies and Heartaches.

   

  7.   For you are ashamedly not permitted to leave unless you give them your heart. There is no escape so do give in. Then you will never feel inclined to frown ever again. Quite painless really, and it has to be your own hand and blade that does the deed, so please placate us, if you would be so kind.

       There you are...now you are free. :]

       So on a small side note from Miss Scar, she is disinclined to be present today, a most unfortunate fact....though on second glance she does seem to be battling her own labyrinth at present so she may be a while. 

    In all respect and anger we play a furious game of watch-their-hearts-bleed and who-can-get-their-arm-chopped-off-first. Though lately she does particularly favour the-pursuit-of-her-own-madness-and-end, so...we shall see who wins the battle soon.

    And on a real side note, for whatever reasons I am having certain reservations about my life at present, though I have found myself strangely caught up in the dark, strangely lovely world of The Replacement. Which is seemingly a book about children that are taken at birth and replaced by a Cast-off who originate from a place called the House of Mayhem, which is ruled by a little tattooed princess and a band of living dead musicians. Heady...

         Goodbye dear friends,

     

Miss CLScarlett xx

                                             

Singing to Wolves

 Sometimes I feel like a wolf...and at other times I feel like a cat. Sometimes I feel like the dragon that I write about.
  Sometimes I'm just me.

  I happened to follow the advice of someone I care about today, and so I went running. Usually I'll run four or so days every week by following the little streets near my house, which in truth is really only one k long, though I do run it a few times and do some other exercises too.

  However yes I run...but I can never reach the level I so badly want to reach: where you can just run and run and be in it and not see the pain any more or have to really stop.
   So today I became the wolf.

   I ran for two hours, following tiny lanes that snuck between the back yards of houses, up winding hills that led to a rather quailing view of the gold coast and I also conquered a small river crossing that had no bridge. I came back spent, but I was just...pumping, pumping thrilled!

   See I found it - that space of mind - and true it was only during one part of my run, but for that time I didn't need to stop and didn't feel any pain or panic. Bloody awesome. :]

 
   Sometimes - well particularly yesterday - I feel the walls closing in on me and that there's something fracturing around me or in me, I can never say which. However this pressing down, haunted feeling led me to go on my run today, in that I just knew I couldn't stay in the house like I usually did.

  That to toss off the feelings that are growing and sheltering in me, I needed to toss off any boundaries. Namely any route...to just follow a road and see where it takes you.

 It did scare me though, wondering if I could just become so trapped in my head and in my routine and not wanting to do anything or deal with real people, that I'll never want to again. That it'll just be too hard to get back into the swing of things.

  That I have fallen between the cracks and have only just realized it. Where is the end?

  It probably doesn't help to think about it, because thinking about it so much makes me afraid of how far I've fallen from where I was earlier this year. There'll be a break...somewhere. Has to be.

   Lastly a small technique on writing (since this is supposedly what this blog is meant to be about).

  Stop staring at the screen and reading about writing. Just write. Not for deadlines or perfection or guilt, but for yourself. If you can't do it for yourself, write for someone you care about.

 
This is as much advice for you as for me. Seemingly I have become someone who talks about writing, romantizes about how I am a writer and reads books on writing, yet when it comes down to it, I just end up staring and fretting at the screen.

  In the end we need to get over ourselves and just do it.
   Smiling more is also something I should probably start doing - and that we all should - constantly not smiling just makes a life that is sometimes way gloomy, even more gloomy.


   So smiles, smiles, smiles. Be a happiness magnet as some would say, though it makes my skin crawl to think of being one heehee.

  Until next time dear ones, here's a small poem.
Miss CLScarlett xx

There Was a Box.

 There was a box...

Within time, notes of music, its' very lining.

  There was a box...

Swept up by the seas, until it came to rest, before my knees.

  There was a box...

Of beauty kept, that had sweet letters, stained on silk.

  There was a box...

Laden with stars, that held their ancestry, and holy birth.

  There was a box...

That's name was sadness, yet produced great mirth.

  There was a box...

That's name was light, it had no soul, only spirit to guide.

  There was a box...

That was laden with wishes once lost, that dwelt in a place not seen by wars.

  There was a box...

Its' beauty had no limits, its' depth was the ocean and its' hight was space.

  There was a box...

It held a heart, both bold and beautiful, yet destined to death.

  There was a box...

That kindled a flame, that lit homes and spit fire into love.

  There was a box.

  There was a box...

Its' legacy remains, as timeless as sand.

  There was a box...

That held a thundercloud, that upon release tyrants the earth.

  There was a box...

It held both beauty and terror, a Pandora's likeness, that was not much purer.

  There was a box...

That birthed both angels and demons, that was everything and nothing.

  There was a box...

It was a key.

  It was you and me.

The Flibbertigibbet and his merrymaking band of Poodles

Thinking of the layers we have as people...and how much things still surprise me is quite humbling in some ways.
  Only that, just when we believe that we know all there is to know about who we are or how we usually act, something comes along to shake it all up.
  It makes me wonder if things happen the way they are now...such as, if in life you get quite a few hard knocks at first, that could either mean that (you hope), the rest of your life will be as cruisy as mush, or the other alternative: there's something far worse still to come and fate is merely biding his time before he brings out the big guns.
   Then again, perhaps your life will just keep going the way its' gone, with occasional times of hardship or victory.
  Maybe I shouldn't think about it you say. :]
  Mainly what I find myself worrying about lately for one reason or another, is that I may be putting so much shit out into the ether about doom and gloom that death or fate's gonna start taking more of an interest in me than he already has. Right now it feels like he's taking closer and closer swings, and that maybe one day it won't just be secondary people I know that end up dying.

   Please don't get me wrong, compared to some others I know, my life is a picnic in the park!
  (Which by the way makes me agitated to think about because when you think about how many people are worse off than you, you start to feel categorized, and that you don't deserve to name or take your problems seriously - that they don't count - because there are so many worse things out there happening to other people.)
  Which in turn can easily lead to the...it's-all-so-pointless-I'm-identical-to-everyone-else-so-I-might-as-well-die attitude.

  Heehee, don't think that so much any more. I mad a certain peace with my demons, though they do occasionally come back to nibble at me.

I want to put down below a small poem I wrote a while ago, and explain it cryptically because...well, I feel like being cryptic heehee.

(It's also unnerving me that it's starting to prey on my mind that perhaps I reveal too much in these blogs, and that I miss just keeping things to myself. Ah but still...I'm sorry to say there's things you'll never find out about me :] )

So...

A match flame dying,
   poured forth a word, a whisper in its' dying breath...
It told me about life, how the stars could roar -
   it showed me my own wings...
It told me tales, of when giants walked the earth
   and fashioned from planets a telescope...
It told me of places, where it had gone,
   where it had lit the parchments of kings 
and watched music take birth...

   At the hand of eternals, its' flame had been lit -
as ideas were inspired and love re-knit...
   It had sorrowed much but been given more - 
its' gift was its' fathomless joy at giving of its' soul...
   Its' fire was its' heart, and its' tears drops of wax...
'Not every story ends well', he proclaimed,
   His ashes fell upon my desk, 
as I understood that it was I he spoke of...
   For in the life of a candle we are all the same soul -
the same beat,
  and in the end his spirit matched ours - matched mine...
As my flickering friend caught his last breath,
  he imparted this knowledge to me...
I was his candle, and me his star -
  he was merely the hand to hold -
the friend to guide.

 So...nada. Just a poem that vaguely relates back to Cara's story and other issues I was going through back then. Just a bit of fun.

  Though hey, I could be lying. :]

   Ah and today, I have a small request for anyone reading this meagre blog.

  In the experimentation and interest of good-feeling and humour, I implore you to choose a member of your family and for no reason whatsoever, leave a nice note and a small chocolate heart or candy where they can find it.

  We really don't do enough for others, and I mean that humbly. I often find I'm so immersed in my own head that sometimes it's hard to break out and do simple things for others like smiling or whatever.

But seriously :], just do it. Find an inspirational quote on the internet to give to your chosen person if you can't think of something. They'll appreciate it anyway.

  You know, this is true what I'm saying. 

  My father is a painter of a sort and he was once painting in parking yellow lines at a car park. He had caution wet paint signs and tape everywhere, and he himself stood watch as it dried, but people still managed to walk over the paint.

  Hardly anyone ever saw the signs, and only when Dad would yell out to them would they realize what they'd done. He himself said to me that if there'd been a pit there instead, all those people would have fallen in and hurt themselves. (Obviously).

  I completely get that society and most of us are programmed that way, (to just be so caught up in our problems and our everyday fight for surviving in this crazy-expensive world), but it's worrying I think. What if one day we just forget how to ever notice other people. We'd all rather communicate by media, not bother about going through the troubles to have any kids, and a growing desire to leave our jobs and the day-in-day-out grind. 

 If that really happened (and I myself want these things, to just not have to bother), but if it did happen: if no one had any kids, and so on, society would crumble. No one would leave their homes, or everyone would be living the hippy/nomad life and we'd cease to have future generations. Maybe in the end it won't be climate change that destroys us, but the advance of society and our inability to want it: as though the world jumped a few generations ahead and left us scrambling to not be forced out of our homes and jobs.

  However, I've mumbled on about all of this enough, and I'll leave you in relative peace.

   Though I'll still hang around to haunt you for a bit I think...:D

Much love Darlings,

Miss CLScarlett xx

P.S. To leave you in a disturbingly hilarious mood, watch the video below while taking your various poisons of choice.