Keep Me

Don’t breathe a word angel.

Let the words flow through the rivers that fall from your face.

Don’t doubt the wonders of your mind;

Don’t question the strength of your shoulders’

Like you would not question the strength of the tide or the fury of the winds over the moors.

Do not question the fire that burns in your heart,

like wildfire, it’s indestructible.

We are the indestructible and you are my wildfire.

Burn me, warm me, soothe my wounds

Love me like none ever shall.

Don’t doubt your feelings;

Don’t discard them carelessly.

They aren’t waste but birds that must fly.

They must soar and flaunt their beautiful colours;

They must flaunt themselves to me and no other;

These birds are my birds too.

Lover, that’s what you are.

How can you doubt that you are any less of the world?

How does your self worth define itself?

Give credit to the size 9 feet that kiss the earth for you.

Give credit to the soft skin that protects you from the battering wind.

Give credit to the lips that kiss my sadness away.

How can you have doubt when I hang on every word you say?

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OOTD 31/08/15

I’m going to try something else new. I’m not going to also start incorporating my Fitbay posts onto my blog for quick and easy fashion inspiration on my blog. I love clothes. I can never get enough and I have a very broad range of what I will wear. Anyway, here is my Outfit Of The Day- my new pineapple dress from Sports Direct (bought in the sale), my new military style cardigan and a baker boy hat that my boyfriends mum had given me just today which I thought would look cute with the cardigan. The dress for a 14 is quite tight fitting but not so tight that I have a problem. Oh, and it’s covered in pineapples… But I already told you that. I adore fruit prints as I feel it lighten the outfit up and makes it a little more fun. I like to play around with my outfits. It makes the cardigan and hat look a little less serious, which, after my grumpiness due to lack of sleep, was definitely needed.

See ‘ya guys! x

Siren

They dig their claws in

one by one.

Every charm and flattery he

is subject to pulls him

away.

You can’t make a friend of the devil.

They will blush out their innocence.

Or their lack of.

They will serenade you with their

deadly charm;

You’ll be nothing more than

a sailor at sea.

Love me, Sailor.

Come home to me, Sailor.

Don’t get tempted, oh Sailor.

These devils will only grow paler.

Let Music Take You There

Music is a translation of what we think, what we know, how we feel. We communicate with complex strings of sounds which make up words and symbols. Music goes beyond our usual method of communication. It seems to have a direct link to our memories. One song can tripper thoughts and feeling that had long since passed, or give way to knew ones we didn’t think we had.

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Bastille’s first album Bad Blood, for example, is a summary of my entire trip to New York. When I was seventeen, my auntie and uncle had given me the fantastic opportunity of visiting them in America. I’d only ever been abroad once before, to France with my grandparents, and had never been on a plane. I had mixed emotions about the journey, which I had to take alone. I was upset about leaving my family behind. I was excited about going somewhere entirely new and seeing my cousins again. It had been so long. I was a little scared about flying. I was happy about finally having some time off after working pretty hard over the summer. I was sat on the plane, probably about half way through my eight hour journey when I’d finished watching two films. I was ready to settle down now so I was looking through the planes album list. I didn’t really see anything I was interested in but Bastille was the latest thing so I thought I’d try it. I fell in love. I listened to that album for about… the next three hours. I listened to it while I was in New York. I listened to it on the way back. These songs became a comfort to me. Now whenever I hear the album, it’s a symbol of my journey. It’s my travel music.

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Another example of music marking my life would be 1989 by Taylor Swift. My boyfriend, George, bought me this for my birthday. I am an avid Taylor fan. I needed the album so badly, and like the darling he is, he got it for me. While I was at uni I’d listen to this album and I’d think of him. This album reflects my relationship and the journey I made to get to uni. It’s all a ‘state of grace’, so to speak. When I felt sad about George having to leave, or when I felt lonely and missed my family, I’d switch on my CD player and I’d listen to a bit of Taylor. I moved house twice last year so this album is the symbol of my change. George stayed through all of that, just like, despite the huge changes of sound Taylor has gone through, she’s still Taylor Swift. Despite all of the changes I’ve gone through, I’m still Sam Wiltshire.

Music makes up our identity. It interlocks with fashion and hobbies and our personalities. in a way, a person’s taste in music makes them who they are. You often know pretty quickly after finding out a person’s taste of music, whether or not you’re going to like them or not. You have a point over which you can bond. George for example, is so very different from me but when I looked through his small CD collection the other day I realised that he was exactly the kind of boy I would have pined over at school, if we’d gone to the same one. Someone who listens to a lot of techno and house is often not going to give someone who listens to Papa Roach religiously the time of day.

In my eyes then, music is magick that holds physical evidence. You can hear it and you can see the effects it has on people. It can make them sad, it can make them happy. You can move people with a good song. You can change the world. Good music isn’t help back by language barriers. Everyone can understand sound. Music, in my eyes is something that everyone should be able to access and create if they wanted to. I grew wishing I could learn an instrument but my parents couldn’t afford it. My learnt to play the recorder for a few years in primary school and in my last two years, I had the pleasure of playing the flute. I adored it. The flute is a beautiful instrument and I wasn’t actually too bad. It was such a shame when I had to leave it all behind. These days I play the guitar, not very well, but I am self taught and I love to sing. I have sung since I was very young. These are skills that I would love to pass on to my children in the future. You don’t need to cling on to the charts to hear good music. It’s all around you.

I was a little outraged by Taylor’s move to make people pay to listen to her music online. I buy her albums because I adore her music, but I usually can’t wait long enough to buy her deluxe editions, nor do I usually have the money to afford such luxuries. So therefore, I can’t listen to her extra songs. It’s elitist. Music has become a gigantic industry for the elite. What has happened to the ‘lower’ forms of music? The local gold mines and community spirit? I have instead chosen to listen to other people’s versions of her deluxe songs and I thoroughly recommend it. No, they do not have Taylor’s beautiful voice, but they do not need it. Music is music. It doesn’t need to have a stamp of ownership. Everyone knows the song belongs to her. She makes a lot of money. Give people a break and try to remember what it’s all about.

So, I guess what I’m trying to get across in this article is that you should take advantage of what you can listen to. Experience all that there is to experience. Let the music take you there. And if you ever get the chance to make your own- do it. Music is the language our memories choose to speak.

Thanks for reading guys, see you soon! x

Will I Be Remembered?

I have always wondered how people would react upon my death.

Would they spare a second to frown?

Would they cry?

Would they scream?

Would they throw their possessions in anger?

Would they sing for me?

Would they remember my voice as a voice of reason?

Would they see my face in the stars?

Will I be remembered?

Would I be remembered as the girl that got away

From life, as though it were an old love.

Would old tales get told to my children, my grandchildren?

Would people laugh at my humility like they laugh at my stupidity today?

Would they love me like I long for today?

Altar Me

I was just scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed when I came across a whole load of pictures from various different Pagan/Wiccan groups displaying members altars. All of these pictures showed off some kind of wealth in the manner of which they had displayed plenty of expensive looking items. This has led me to think about how commercial paganism really is, beyond what any other religion may be. This is ironic because Paganism is a nature based spirituality, based upon ways of the old. How has modern day consumerism come to affect how we worship? I, myself, am guilty of wishing I had the money to splash on fancy chalices, athames and altar cloths. These things are expensive. I see the types of clothing that is fashionable, generally, among other pagans and free spirits and I wonder where on earth they are able to raise that kind of money. Do they still have all of their organs? Their limbs? I window shop with envy pouring out of my eyes.

As I was learning, online, about Wicca, most of the sources told me about how I should have an altar from which I could practice the craft and be at peace. They recommended that I have items that symbolise the elements. Wands, athames, crystals, candles, incense, statues, cloths, you know it. Then of course, there are all the different forms of divination that one could try their hand at. These too, can also be quite costly. I myself wanted to try and make everything. However, when I realised that my sister had thrown away my wand, and my best friends had gone mouldy from the oil that she had rubbed into it. At this point, I didn’t really talk about my beliefs and was still very much in the broom cupboard! I thought about making my own deck of tarot cards but after studying my first deck, I was worried that it would be far too complicated.

My own ‘altar’ is a window sill. I had a few small candles, a small card trinket box of tumble stones, an incense box I found on a car boot sale, with various different types of incense, and often a glass of water. It’s very basic but isn’t that what the practice is all about? Using what you’ve got, making what you haven’t, and keeping it close to nature, close to your heart? It’s almost like a status symbol or a competition. There’s a programme I liked that was on BBC called Switch, I thoroughly enjoyed it and it really did show, to me, what the community is like. They used ‘normal’ women vs ‘posh’ women. In the reality I see it’s ‘normal’, as I would class myself, vs the expensive lifestyle of the pagan hippy. I understand that this is pretty controversial and could probably cause some argument. The ‘free-living’ hippy lifestyle, doesn’t look very free from where I stand. That’s not to say that it is wrong and if you have the money to travel, to buy pretty things or to help people, then do it. Feel free to. A part of the Rede is to ‘Live and let live’, after all.

Anyway, I’m not sure what else I really have to say on the matter of the commercialisation of Paganism and Wicca. It is something I’ve been thinking about for years, ever since I’d taught one of my school friends about it and a few days later she’d persuaded her mum to buy her a very fancy carved table to begin her altar on. I was shocked that her mum had done that, considering I had third degree question from her mother- just in case I was badly influencing her daughter, of course. I have no idea what has become of that friends beliefs as she moved away and we’ve slowly lost contact as people do, but I’ve not forgotten. What are your thoughts? Is it all necessary?

Thanks for reading! See you soon x

Side Note: Image is not mine.

Tick Tock

Time is something I have always found to be scary. I’ve never felt as though I have had enough of it. I grew up wondering what the future would be like, wondering if I’d ever get to see it. I’m sat here, in mine and my boyfriend’s room staring at the calendar, knowing that I’ll have to go away again soon. While I’m excited to start up my course again and settle into my new house, the thought of leaving him again scares me. The first time we’d faced so many problems, and I’m scared in case we face them again. I’m scared I’ll be lonely again. I spent so much of my time feeling lonely. Story of my life, really. I’m scared about what I will get to achieve while I’m still here and I’m worried I’m going to look back on the summer and think: ‘why couldn’t have I done more?’. I used to worry each year about going back to school. For a few weeks before going back, I’d have difficulty getting to sleep. I didn’t have any reason to be worried. I could handle the douchebags. The teachers weren’t particularly mean. But it meant that a year had passed. Time had gone by that I could not relive. You don’t get second chances to do things over. From a very young age, I understood this.

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I’m writing right now, not to inform you as I would in my usual article. I’m not really trying to entertain. I’m just trying to shift a weight that’s on my chest that will crush me if I let it. I used to have dreams of remaining a young child while all of my friends and classmates grew older around me. I never saw myself age. I didn’t know I was even able to. I could picture futures for everyone else. In my future, I saw nothing. I found it a miracle the day of my prom. Sixteen and still live. Success. I also used to have dreams however of being older than everyone else. I wasn’t aware of me having an adult life, just that no one could recognise me. I had grown up too quickly. That was something I made sure never happened. I made sure I made the best of my childhood and, whilst all the kids my age started drinking and going to parties fairly young, I stuck to what I knew best. I didn’t need that lifestyle. I knew that when I got to eighteen I’d be able to do all of that stuff and not feel guilty about it. Guilt is a very real thing in my life but I’m not worried about guilt right now. I’m worried about time and space. I’m worried I might fall through the gaps.

How does one become unafraid of something as constant and ever-present as time?

Thanks for reading x

Mortality

I’m dying, she said,

as she looked out to sea.

But I’ll have a replacement, she said,

as she looked out to sea.

So you won’t have to feel sad, she said,

as she looked out to sea.

I’m not immortal, she said.

I can’t fight everything alone, she said.

I’d be better off dead, she said.

She said, I’m dying,

as she looked out to sea.

She said, What do I have left?

as she looked out to sea.

She whispered, Who will save me?

As she leapt into the sea.

How To Level Up A Town

This morning, I started thinking through ideas of what I could write and I began brainstorming lots of different routes that I could go down. The one I wish to explore today is one about my home town. Now, we’ve recently had a few new developments in the town. Our large church, of St. John the Baptist, in the centre of town has had it’s tower rebuilt and rejuvenated and looks stunning. We have also had a new H&M building recently built in town too which has had a lot of interest in it, stirred up a lot of mixed emotions and has pulled in a lot of profit from what I can imagine, as well as other big brand chain stores like JJB.

I’ve had ideas on how the town could expand and evolve for a little while now. I’m no councillor and I may never actually get to play with the figures but I have had a lot of thought about these things. I’ve read the papers. For example, I know that a lot of people would be happy to see the carnival run again. I, for one, loved the carnival. It thrived and the town was alive with sound and light. It sat in the week gap between my birthday and Halloween so naturally, this time of year was my favourite. The carnival was something that made the town stand out. It brought everyone together. Our town has lost, since it has grown, it’s sense of community. Yeovil is divided into lots of small different communities now, but these rarely get the chance to mix like they did in the carnival. I think Yeovil is ready to reinvest in this exciting time of year. We all need something to look forward to. I would hate for my baby sister to never get to see what a carnival looks like.

Next up, I would like to address the issue of the old glove factory on Reckleford. It’s an old building and a symbol of what our town was built on, so why have we let it run down and house drug addicts and filth? We have a fairly large problem of abuse. Alcohol, drugs, and violence has been a thing of our town for a long time. I have seen it, I have grown up near it. Most people in this town have. Why is it still an issue? Why are people pretending it doesn’t exist instead of giving aid? In college for my English A Level, I had to try to advertise an idea. I chose to advertise a refuge centre built into the old glove factory. Yeovil currently does actually have a refuge centre, and maybe even a small drug rehabilitation centre but these aren’t really heard of. Yes, I’m aware that in order to rebuild the factory building, it would take a lot of juice, but I personally, think that something like that would get it’s fair share of use. Or perhaps just a rehab centre. Or maybe even both. It’s a very large area to work with. We hear horrible stories of attacks and stealing due to things that could be helped, stopped and prevented with the right education and facilities. I don’t feel as though Yeovil really has these facilities at the moment and I feel as though it should. This would be easily accessible. It’s a well known location and it might actually make the area safer.

If that’s not so good an idea then perhaps something for children to use. The factory is across the road from a school I used to attend. It has a lot of different plant growing around that area, and perhaps an indoor garden, a greenhouse factory. With the right building, play equipment and a beautiful garden for everyone to use in all weathers, would be a good idea. I just feel as though this building is monumental to our town and could be instrumental, too with the right care and attention.

Lastly, I’d like to address the issue of the town centre’s expansion for business. We are beginning to grow in big brand chain stores. What we are not helping is smaller independent companies and stores. We aren’t really encouraging our people to think for themselves and to expand their horizons and their own entrepreneurship. I know that our town is home to a lot of talent but it is being forced to work for these large chains. These stores are important to the economy and consumerism of the town, but it also drags away the character of the town. That’s not our main problem though. Our main problem is that there are still far too many empty spaces. Glover’s Walk is one big empty space. We need to encourage independent traders, not shut them down. We need to encourage new ideas for things we don’t have, for things we didn’t even realise we needed.

I remember reading in the Western last year about traders on and around Wyndham Road complaining about a lack of business there, due to certain other business scaring away theirs. I’d also heard of the local brothel being shut down. This is something that is common occurrence but it shouldn’t be. When it’s shut, it should be gone and deterred. People’s businesses are suffering and I for one, always feel uneasy around Wyndham Road. I don’t think Yeovil town centre requires a brothel and I think that the police and council could work harder on a relocation or a full shut down of that property. Bring Christmas light’s to the Wyndham area. Bring business!

These are my idea’s on how to take our town to the next level. What’s yours?

Thanks for reading, see you soon! x

Following The Light

With time light changes,

the buds will bloom,

the trees will turn green.

With time light changes;

the flowers will die,

and the river will sour.

With time light changes,

and the things that were

most important

will vanish into the late afternoon

shadows.

With time light changes;

the things we took for granted

will move away, like the water

it can’t stay the same.

With time light changes;

the focal point of the picture

will change

and then you will have to start again.

With time light changes

but unlike light, we cannot.

We stick to what we know;

yet we paint and write about the light

that we cannot touch.

With time light changes;

the lilies will glisten,

the water will sparkle.

With time light changes;

the sky will turn grey,

and the bridge will be damp.

With time light changes,

and all will be dark again.