1st – July - 2009
Indent, capital letter, rant. Oh dear, I’m just an amateur. I’m sitting here on my 'outside summer sofa’ in the garden, under the palm tree...losing my blogging virginity. Oh the imagery that creates. Just imagine. I’ve never blogged before, could say i'm nervous. Blogging seems to be rated the best stress reliever; so I’m going to give it a try. Today while in the centre of big bad Birmingham, I walked into ‘The Works’ and brought Camilla Morton’s book ‘A Year in High Heels’ where I found her words perfect for my little life dilemma and took her advice to start blogging.
‘If you feel like giving the world immediate access to your musings, rants or
inner turmoil, rather than leaving your diary open on the bus its time to start
a blog.’
How wonderful.
I always face my diary to other people so they read how actually depressing life could be… if they were me. I also joke alot too. Pointless little one liners that only i laugh at.
I sped through 75 of those perfectly smooth pages today. The book already looks unconditionally loved. It’s the way I caress them as I turn the page over. They get touched and rubbed more then a blonde prostitute. (I guess they get more customers then brunettes). Muhaha. I took my newly purchased book and propped my buttum on one of the stone benches by the fountain. The temperature was hitting 34 Degrees Celsius, but I didn’t mind how much I seemed to perspire at that precise hour. The fountain. Where I wish to spend the rest of my days reading next to. The sound of the water, and the way it glistens in the sunshine, its so beautiful it hurts. How utterly crap that it was turned off today. I had nothing to greet my ears except a drunken man gurgling beside me.
Then he moved I felt joyful for a second then all I could focus on is the distant murmur of so many conversations of the passers by. I hate that. So many words, so little time. They seem to mesh together to make a fuzzy kind of noise; you can’t make out any words, just fuzz.
I felt pretty today. I sat reading in what seemed to me an awfully flattering position, if I must say so myself, good side facing the public. My legs comfortably collapsed on the bench beside me; like a rag doll they just seemed to flop down, I guess through exhaustion, the heat drains everything from you, I realised that today as I slumped down like an overweight 70 year old. Anyway back to my seat. Yes I did look terribly beautiful, facing the statue the other side of the fountain. Where there appeared…like snow in the middle of July…totally unexpected… a man.
Oh yes. A man. Such a beautiful curly haired creature. Even beautifully trimmed stubble mounted his perfectly chiselled chin. I have never described a man as ‘beautiful’ before; there is a first time for everything. I looked over sneakily a few times, the last one I wish I had missed. I watched as a tall, slinky Chinese devil of a woman came flowling across the steps into his arms. Suddenly I felt like Bridget Jones. My flattering position then turned into a butch army competition. I was the butchest to compete obviously. I went from Cameron Diaz to a female Ozzy Osborne in seconds. It was amusing I guess. Trying my hardest to seem appealing when all he was waiting for was he oh so perfect half naked sun goddess. I love that word. Goddess. It’s like a VIP, but in words, like a VI…W? It can only be used when describing an utterly indefinable woman, only ever definably by the word ‘goddess’. I warn you to not use it densely and it may lose it powerful powerfulness over other words. It’s a VIW.
Oh no. I shall shut up now. Overall I had such an inspiring day minus the beautiful people rubbing in how beautifully perfect and beautiful they are. Ha. I caught the 126 home, 40 whole minutes, travelling in intense weather conditions, next to a man who though deodorant is only something famous people wear. A better way to see it is that I had 40 minutes to find refuge in my book again, giggling silently at the words of this amazing woman who I had only just discovered.
Anyway that is enough of my day. As this is my first ever blog I decided its time to describe myself a little too.
I sped through 75 of those perfectly smooth pages today. The book already looks unconditionally loved. It’s the way I caress them as I turn the page over. They get touched and rubbed more then a blonde prostitute. (I guess they get more customers then brunettes). Muhaha. I took my newly purchased book and propped my buttum on one of the stone benches by the fountain. The temperature was hitting 34 Degrees Celsius, but I didn’t mind how much I seemed to perspire at that precise hour. The fountain. Where I wish to spend the rest of my days reading next to. The sound of the water, and the way it glistens in the sunshine, its so beautiful it hurts. How utterly crap that it was turned off today. I had nothing to greet my ears except a drunken man gurgling beside me.
Then he moved I felt joyful for a second then all I could focus on is the distant murmur of so many conversations of the passers by. I hate that. So many words, so little time. They seem to mesh together to make a fuzzy kind of noise; you can’t make out any words, just fuzz.
I felt pretty today. I sat reading in what seemed to me an awfully flattering position, if I must say so myself, good side facing the public. My legs comfortably collapsed on the bench beside me; like a rag doll they just seemed to flop down, I guess through exhaustion, the heat drains everything from you, I realised that today as I slumped down like an overweight 70 year old. Anyway back to my seat. Yes I did look terribly beautiful, facing the statue the other side of the fountain. Where there appeared…like snow in the middle of July…totally unexpected… a man.
Oh yes. A man. Such a beautiful curly haired creature. Even beautifully trimmed stubble mounted his perfectly chiselled chin. I have never described a man as ‘beautiful’ before; there is a first time for everything. I looked over sneakily a few times, the last one I wish I had missed. I watched as a tall, slinky Chinese devil of a woman came flowling across the steps into his arms. Suddenly I felt like Bridget Jones. My flattering position then turned into a butch army competition. I was the butchest to compete obviously. I went from Cameron Diaz to a female Ozzy Osborne in seconds. It was amusing I guess. Trying my hardest to seem appealing when all he was waiting for was he oh so perfect half naked sun goddess. I love that word. Goddess. It’s like a VIP, but in words, like a VI…W? It can only be used when describing an utterly indefinable woman, only ever definably by the word ‘goddess’. I warn you to not use it densely and it may lose it powerful powerfulness over other words. It’s a VIW.
Oh no. I shall shut up now. Overall I had such an inspiring day minus the beautiful people rubbing in how beautifully perfect and beautiful they are. Ha. I caught the 126 home, 40 whole minutes, travelling in intense weather conditions, next to a man who though deodorant is only something famous people wear. A better way to see it is that I had 40 minutes to find refuge in my book again, giggling silently at the words of this amazing woman who I had only just discovered.
Anyway that is enough of my day. As this is my first ever blog I decided its time to describe myself a little too.
Jessica Mae Groom.
Sarcastic/Stubborn/Extroverted/Insatiable/Sweetheart.
Many people get to their teens and feel they have to find themselves. I think I found myself at the age of about 5. And to be honest I like it. I’m a pretty cool person. I have never changed my opinions or views to impress people. I'm happy to catch an average of six buses a day. I'm on a constant search for happiness, not that I don’t have plenty, I mean by this that I don’t like spending a minute of the day where I’m not happy. I search for it without fail, every day.
I try to never give up on the good times and I don't think there should be ever anything to regret. I can't empathize how much I believe in trust. I've come to find,
due to lack of knowledge, people lie; leaving me always humiliated. I have a passion for drawing, painting & reading. I'm always down for conversation. I believe people should spend the time getting to know strangers, so lets make each other smile. (Meaning a nice conversation with a stranger on the bus about something pleasant but random, not influencing a pedophile to call me sexy.) Ha. I have a crap sense of humor too. Well that’s it for now I guess. I’m going to retire, as the sofa needs to be put away and my palm tree watered. Good night y’all.
I try to never give up on the good times and I don't think there should be ever anything to regret. I can't empathize how much I believe in trust. I've come to find,
due to lack of knowledge, people lie; leaving me always humiliated. I have a passion for drawing, painting & reading. I'm always down for conversation. I believe people should spend the time getting to know strangers, so lets make each other smile. (Meaning a nice conversation with a stranger on the bus about something pleasant but random, not influencing a pedophile to call me sexy.) Ha. I have a crap sense of humor too. Well that’s it for now I guess. I’m going to retire, as the sofa needs to be put away and my palm tree watered. Good night y’all.
