Looking back with fresh eyes

Today, in an attempt to find inspiration I decided on visiting the Tate modern.  I figured that looking at the different styles would help me get over my little drawers block. Wondering around the different galleries I came across Dali’s painting, Metamorphosis of Narcissus. The painting seen attached was painted in 1937. The piece is based on the story of Narcissus. A man so proud of his look that when he saw his own reflection in a pool of water, he was unable to tear himself away. He eventually died.   In a version of the story, Narcissus the man died and became a flower. The word narcissism is said to originate from this.

Dali’s painting depicts Narcissus sitting (on the left) by a pool of water. Reflected on the right is a stone hand holding an egg. The stone hand closely resembles the shape of Narcissus’ body. Hatching out of the egg is a small daffodil, also known in the plant world as a Narcissus.

I was very intrigued. I mean, to understand the thought behind a painting brings out the true beauty of the painting. Well, that’s my opinion.  We are able to appreciate more the details of the painter’s creation. Only after a little while of standing there, acting like  I was very knowledgeable, I realised that  I had seen the painting years ago. Well more than 10 years ago, when I was doing my GCSE art project. I even re-created in my little sketchbook. At the time, I had no idea what it was called or what Dali was trying to depict. I don’t remember what my own interpretation of the painting was but I know it was nowhere close to what I described above. I simply took it as I saw it. A surreal painting. I was intrigued by it just as much as I was today. It made me think that sometimes it’s not bad to look back on our past.

Sometimes we come across something from our past and are able to approach it in a different way. Have a new appreciation for it. As we gain more experiences, more knowledgeable and more open-minded our outlook on everything around us changes.  We shouldn’t criticize our past selves or judge them. I admit the first thought that crossed my mind was that my silly 16-year-old self-didn’t care much about this stuff but always acted like I had an artistic taste. My second thought was that of joy, that I was able to gain a new perspective. I shouldn’t judge the past me but enjoy the current me. I know, this may seem a bit far-fetch for anyone reading this, but I am being honest about the thoughts that crossed my mind at the time.


A crazy thing called time: my short story

A little story I came up with one day. Now its a draft. 

Ever had that feeling that everyone else was crazy and that you were the only one sane?

As far back as I can remember I’ve been told I was abnormal. Different. Crazy.

The world around me would halt briefly for a second, then a minute and now hours. Not a single flicker of movement in the world. Just me, free to wonder aimlessly between the life like statues.

Apparently It’s my mind trying to catch up with the world or was it that my mind is racing a head? I can’t remember all of the different explanations.

One  thing I know….. there is nothing wrong with me.

Chapter one- end 2020

It’s November 5th and a plethora of colours are shooting up and temporarily painting the sky. I sit and watch them. Then reverse them,  watching the fireworks crawl back down. The colours draining from the dark canvas above me. I would have to admit that this is almost as good as watching rain in reverse.

It has taken many years but I’ve finally mastered how to control time. Pushing back, forwards and to a halt at my whim. I was never crazy.

I was brought up initially in an orphanage Not sure who my family were. Apparently I was left at Sister Katherine’s orphanage when I was 5 years old. It wasn’t long before I got kicked out.  I was too much for them and I was taken away to a psychiatric ward of a hospital.

I finally realised that I was able to manipulate time when I was 16. I know that it should have occurred to me years before, seeing that I must have been born with this gift but when you’re constantly being told that you are crazy to think you could control time, you start to question yourself. Doubting everything and fearing your own ability. I am no longer afraid of my power. Yes, it would be easy for me to rewind the clocks to correct my past. Undo all the times I tried to claim that I was not insane for thinking the impossible, but Would I really want to relive some many of my past years again?

With the future I have no interest in pushing forwards. Why leap forwards in time? Really now. Just to see what the future holds?I know what the future holds. Armageddon. No I am not being dramatic.

My name is Cora. The only problem looming over me, is that  a comet is set to crash into earth.

Scientists first noticed it half a year ago and the world is yet to find a solution to our problem. The comet is too large to be taken down by any weapons. There is nothing we can do. An impending doom.

Now do you understand why I have no interest in the future. Well I didn’t, until I started to see dreams of a little girl. Long brown hair and stormy grey eyes. There is a familiarity to her. Each time I see her she is standing I front of me talking to me but her words fail to reach me. The first time I woke up with tears in my eyes. The crazy thing is I feel like she is a part of me. Maybe all this playing around with time has somewhat connected me to the future. I know what I said before, Armageddon but what if she is in one of the possible futures that lay ahead? What if there is a way to stop what is about to happen? I don’t have ties to anyone else but she is a part of me. Maybe the only chance I will ever have at having someone else in my life. I mean for me to be able to see visions of her must be because she has the same power over time and is projecting herself back to me?

I know this would sound all crazy to you but I’m not crazy.

Chapter 2- the middle

They’ve notified us that the comet is due to enter the stratosphere in the next 24 hours. After that there’s no return. I’ve tried to think a solution to how it could be avoided. Even contemplated the idea that if I did nothing maybe it would still work out but a part of me, a really small nagging part of me doesn’t like the idea. It nags for me to turn back time. Give myself more time to figure out something. Like an itch I can’t scratch, I feel the urge to rewind time. I’ve tried telling others but we all know what happens when I mention the whole time issue. Crazy crazy crazy. Throw her into a psychiatric hospital.

When I look out the window I see the panic running a mock of the people. They were wrong about the comet. The first of the debris breaks loose and crashes down. A smoulder of fire erupts from the site, followed by scream and scattering or people in every direction.

I need more time. I want to see her but I don’t know how. I need to do something. Anything! But what? I curse to myself and then looked up again out my window. Coming straight at me is another chunk of debris. It’s racing towards me but I slow time down and watch it turn to a creep.

More time. More time. That’s it! Just rewind back and you will have more time! How much time? I start to rewind the hands of time when she pops back into my head. “Don’t do it!” she screams and I lose control. I see the face of my daughter when I’m hit by debris. Everything turns to black

Chapter 3- the beginning

I wake up in the middle of a field. Above me, the sky is clear. Nothing like the what I had seen 5 minutes before with the debris showering down, or should I say sometime in the future.  Im lying in the middle of a field and across the grass I see a tall old building with a sign outside. Walking up to the main door I realise how huge it looks. I mean my head only makes it to the letter box. When I reach out to knock at the door I see how small my little fist is. They are tiny. What’s going on? Then I realise the sign. Sister Katherine’s orphanage. I’m back here of all places. How? My powers could take me back in time. It shouldn’t be able to move me from place to place as well. It takes me a little while to remember that the orphanage had closed down 5 years after I left and the building converted to apartments. I had moved into the apartment out of morbid curiosity when I first found out. I’m back in the body of my 5 year old self.

The door opens and I’m taken in before I can say a word. It wouldn’t have mattered What I said. Shortly afterwards I was taken in and they didn’t believe a word I said about how I didn’t belong here. That I had powers that could turn shift time. Nope they blamed the horrible looking bump I had on my head. Saying that I must have hit my head. Just like last time it unfolds again. At first they think it’s the bump. Then they start to say I’m causing problems because I want attention. They’ve done a search on me and found out that I have no parents. Next they are moving me to a near by psychiatric hospital. Here at the hospital I’m force fed pills after pills. Disgusting things that are meant to calm me. They make me feel funny. I can’t think straight. Don’t even try to mention to me or ask what about my powers. Now that I’m back into the body of my 5 year old self I’m also back to the limited powers of my 5 year old self. I can barely hold a second.

There’s a brief moment I feel like I can think. I need to warn myself not to do this. When I’m older I will try something else. Just not this. I rush over to my window. It’s dark outside so I can see my reflection clearly on the window. I’m standing and shouting at my reflection. Warning  myself. My long brown hair and stormy grey eyes. The little girl I saw before was never my daughter. She looked familiar like she was a part of me only because she was me. That was never a message from the future but a warning from the past. I was warning myself. How stupid? Why didn’t I remember? My ego had gotten the better part of me. I had thought of myself as powerful enough to control time. When really I’m another puppet to the hands of time. This time I will remember. I fool myself into thinking this when the door opens to my room and I’m force fed more pills. My shouting had alerted them to my crazy behaviour. I start to feel fuzzy. My mind clouds and in a haze. The only thing that makes sense is that I now know why I didn’t remember this all happening. All those pills. It’s all going to happen again and again because I’m probably not going to remember this again. I’m stupidly going to come back to this time again in 20 years and rewind back to the beginning. I just keep telling myself that I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy and I can control time.

End? or just another point in the story?

Looking for signs not symptoms

Through past experiences I have come to believe that we are constantly shown signs on which direction to proceed in. Now it is up to us to decide whether we wish to proceed forward with the sign in mind or turn a blind eye to them.

I am writing this blog post whilst sitting in Hong Kong airport, awaiting my next flight. So this blog will be short.

Now these signs can be in the form of someone simply saying something in passing, an opportunity placed before us or literally a sign (I mean a full on billboard sign). Sometimes I will be thinking about something, a way to improve myself. Someway to change up my life and make it a bit more exciting. It is then that I would come across something, previously I would have thought it was a coincidence, now I see them as a sign.

Sorry I may be rambling, I did just get off a 13hour flight. I am in the process of ticking off something on my buckets. Solo trip to a foreign country where english is not the main language and visit Japan. So i guess two things on my bucket list. The past few months leading up to this date I wanted to make my life seem more interesting.

Im going off topic. Normally I am he most antisocial person on the plane. Im not great at talking to strangers sitting next to me. I just want to watch as many movies as possible. Today, the man next to me just kept talking to me about his work before we took off. He has a diving instructor school in the Philippines.

It was interesting to hear about his travels and interest in diving abroad. He went on to list some instructing school in England. I suddenly had the urge to sign up for classes once i got back to England. It wasn’t just a spontaneous whim. I choose to take it as a sign as I had been looking for something new to do. If i had done my usual behaviour of trying to politely nod whilst subtly insert my headphones in I would not have come this thought. I mean I did revert back to my old self afterwards, to which I was glad of. Things got a bit unpleasant when both that passenger and his friend, who i feel i must mention are 50 year olds started to try and direct their farts towards one another. >.<

Anyway, I need to make my way to my next plane. I hope to post about diving classes in the future. Until then, look for the signs.

Let’s go climb a mountain….

A few years back, my friends and I decided to climb Mount Kota Kinabalu in Malaysia. With little previous experience, I packed my bag with water, snacks, extra clothes and a mini headlamp. I was so excited and nervous at the same time. Why nervous? Well, that was because just as I was about to climb the guide mentioned that Asthmatics and people with medical conditions should take care as there was a history of deaths related to medical complications. Now I am an asthmatic who takes steroid inhalers and I have had open heart surgery when I was little. A moment of panic came across me and I started to doubt myself and my abilities. Maybe I’m not suited for this? This was years before I started meditating again and smack bang in the middle of my pessimistic phase but a little drive inside of me gave me the little push. The thoughts passed and I felt like I would regret not doing it. Nothing will happen!

We trekked 6Km on the first day to the rest stop at  Laban Rata and I was in love with the whole experience. Climbing higher and higher, I started to feel more invigorated. It was truly a great experience. The path changed from smooth slopes to uneven steps. The view was amazing each step higher I got. slowly creeping up above clouds.

At the rest stop, we were welcomed to a buffet to stock up for the next day. People from all around the world had come there to wait until the next morning before starting the last bit of the trek to the peak just in time for the sunrise.

At the time of our stay, there was no heating or hot water. I remember sleeping in my hoodie with leggings under my tracksuit bottoms and a wooly hat on my head. I so could have done with a boyfriend at the time. I could have used him as a hot water bottle and kept myself warm.

We were lucky because a few days before we ran into someone at the hotel and he had suggested we get altitude sickness tablets. I understand that this is probably obvious to those who frequently climb mountains, but to newbies, this was not a concept we had considered.  We were lucky compared to many others at the rest stop because next morning quite a few of the trekkers had to terminate their adventure at the hands of altitude sickness.

Early morning we set off again. headlamps strapped to our heads we climbed the mountain. We had reached the last rest point at 7km when a few of the guides started smoking. Within a few minutes, my dear little asthma kicked in. I could feel my chest tighten and I felt like I was wheezing. I decided to not continue and told my friends to go on ahead of me. I mean, how could I continue at this rate. Cigarettes have always been one of my biggest triggers. The inhalers had no effect. I know it was a wise decision but I was absolutely gutted. Trekked 7km out of a total 8.2km and I couldn’t do the last 1.2km. I did get to see a pretty amazing sunrise and made friends with a few other people that couldn’t climb further.

At the time I was very disappointed. It felt like I hadn’t accomplished anything just because I didn’t complete the last 1.2km.  I was so focused on the 1.2km rather than the 7km I had climbed. Only years later I realised that was wrong. Had I  given up at the start of the trek, maybe then I could say I hadn’t achieved anything. I learned more about my self, met new people and had climbed to an altitude greater than 3,000Km. I got to see amazing views and I learned that I should appreciate every experience more.

Life lesson to self: try to look at the positive more otherwise the perception of what you see/ experience can be greatly skewed towards the negative and that will be all that you will see. The perceptive can greatly affect the experience.

Book review: Lost Boy by Christina Henry. A twisted take on a classic fairy tale

When browsing the shelves in Waterstones over the weekend,  I came across this little book.  I was drawn to the cover art and decided to read the few pages. I found it to be interesting and so I bought it along with a book about Alice in Wonderland by the same author. (It shall be my next read).  I finished the book within two days and decided I wanted to write a review about it.  It is a twisted and darker take on Peter Pan.  Lost Boy by Christina Henry tells the story through the eyes of the lost boy, Jamie and his account of what really happened on the Island of Neverland.  One where Peter is not the good guy we grew up knowing.  For the classic tale is what Peter wants you to believe but as Jamies says ‘Peter Lies’. The story of how the infamous Captain Hook came to be and how maybe, just maybe we mistook him for the bad guy.

Through the author’s imagery, the once beautiful land of Neverland is slowly transformed into a terrible prison. Peter and the lost boys enjoy bloody games of pirate raids and battles where the death of either party is like to happen.

Peter in this story is arrogant, selfish, reckless and has a thirst for blood. Follow his rules or suffer the consequences. Quick to argue, quick to start a fight, quick to find more lost boys to replace the dead old ones and quicker to remove those that get in his way.  Peter wants all the Lost boys to love him, but he wants our protagonist Jamie to care for him the most. For Jamie is meant to be his best friend.

Jamie is the original lost boy, who followed Peter to Neverland listening to Peter’s lies. Initially, the lies cast a mist over Jamie’s eyes and he is unable to see Peter for who he really is.  As the story progresses the mist begins to fade.  Jamie’s development over the story is gradual and well thought out. He morphs from Peter’s number one lost boy into his Enemy.

Henry’s depiction of the classic tale retold will definitely change your opinion of Peter Pan. I warn those not ready to let go of their childhood to be prepared.

An excellent read.


An interest in history

Last weekend, I went to the National History Museum in London with a friend. I hadn’t been there in more than 10 years and had forgotten how interesting a place it was. Though Dippy the dinosaur was not there to greet us at the entrance, it was great seeing the blue whale skeleton suspended above in the Hintze Hall. I should explain to those, not from  London, Dippy is the Diplodocus skeleton cast that has been present in the museum since 1905.

I never realized that a blue whale does not actually have a skull. From what I could see it’s skull comprised of just two bones. The part that supports the fins hand long finger-like bones. From the tip of the mandible to the end of it’s tail, this not so little beauty is 25 meters long and hangs above many of the other star exhibits.

There were so many exhibits to see that I was lost in the museum for over 2 hours. From the 1000+-year-old enormous tree stump to the American mastodon. Other interesting exhibits included the dinosaur exhibit, the Attenborough studio, and the human biology section. I would definitely recommend a visit to the museum for those interested in a bit of history. Entrance is free and you are free to wander at your own pace.

I loved history when I was little. Trying to find out a bit more about the past. My favourite time periods: Ancient Greeks/ Eygptians, Tudor monarchy and Victorian.  Even in fictional books and movies, I am fond of the plots where the story has a past somehow linked to the present. The events of the past are what brought the future into being.

When I was little, I dreamed of being an archeologist. I was about 8 years old, sitting in my bedroom with a book about dinosaurs. Simply amazing that these powerful and wonderful creatures had once roamed the earth. On the last page, there was a map of the world depicting all of the places fossils had been found.  I was so sad because as a naive 8-year old I had convinced myself that all of the fossils had been found. There were none left for me to find. Thus the end of my eight-year-old self’s dream.


First book review: Night Angel trilogy

One thing I am passionate about is reading. I spend at least 45min+ in Waterstones. I buy at 2 books at a time, in case I finish one before I can get another one. I’ve either got a book or my kindle in my bag.

Now my bookshelf varies in genre. My favorite is fantasy fiction. I love the way an author can create worlds that do not abide by our laws of physics and nature. If they wanted to create a new form of magic (like in Mistborn series, which I will discuss in a later post) they can. Fantasy creatures like dragons could soar a sky, Elves roam the forest and magicians could travel to other dimensions. I have started to spread out into other genres such as crime, thrillers, romantic comedies, Horror, and sci-fi.

I have started to spread out into other genres such as crime, thrillers, romantic comedies, Horror, and sci-fi.

One day… I dream to have a room with wall to wall and floor to ceiling bookcases in my future home. Haaaaa…. one day!

Let us start with my first book recommendation, The Night Angel trilogy by Brent Weeks. It is my absolute favorite. I was mesmerized from book one and even named my dog after the main character. The story is about a young orphan name Azoth who lives in the slums. Daily life is a struggle living under the thumb of a twisted man along with many other orphans.  Azoth manages to convince Durzo, a legendary assassin into accepting him as an apprentice and eventually changes his name to Kylar. He develops into a somewhat anti-hero. His actions are based on what he and his master are hired to do but soon he becomes involved in something a lot grander than he ever imagined. Over the books we see him grow, fall in love and become the amazing assassin he was destined to be. Jam-packed with action and an incredible story. The book keeps you engulfed in its world. Brent Weeks introduces a few different forms of magic. I have to say one in particular, without giving away possible spoilers, is epic!!

He develops into a somewhat anti-hero. His actions are based on what he and his master are hired to do but soon he becomes involved in something a lot grander than he ever imagined. Over the books we see him grow, fall in love and become the amazing assassin he was destined to be. Jam-packed with action and an incredible story. The book keeps you engulfed in its world. Brent Weeks introduces a few different forms of magic. I have to say one in particular, without giving away possible spoilers, is epic!!

The author introduces you to many characters, each with their own troubled backstory and we learn more about each of them. Kylar’s world is rich in magic and history.

I would defiantly recommend this book series to anyone. I was so sad to finish the third book. The story had me with my nose in the book, wanting to find out what happened next. At the same time wishing the book would not finish and that more pages would magically appear in the book.

#Nightangel #books #mustread