Friday, 21 August 2015

The Old Me



Sometimes, I can't remember who I used to be.

My memory became my manipulator as soon as everything fell apart, and I started all over again. I tried to remember the things I used to do and say and love. My memory started to tell me that it was all so easy back then. In truth, it probably wasn't.

I've found my way to old friends again, and we talk about who we used to be. I remember that we were sloppy and impulsive. We've all changed so much, but I can't help feel the pressure pump it's way through my bloodstream. It's a hot sting, and it comes back to me every time I see someone achieving things that I can't. I see these old benchmarks for adulthood, and I see you collecting trophies and memories. It strikes me that I don't have any of these things, not yet and maybe not ever. I don't have my name on a book, or on savings accounts or mortgages. I don't have a ring on my finger, and I don't have an overwhelming desire to produce a miniature version of myself.

I wonder if it's because I've changed who I am. I wonder if it's because I'm softer than before. Mostly, I wonder if I should be proud of the person I've become.

Tuesday, 18 August 2015

Date Night at The Smoke Haus, Cardiff

the smokehaus cardiff image, american food, american beer image


I'll tell you the truth, Rhys and I enjoy any kind of time together that involves food. Some couples go to the gym together, or drink cocktails in the Bay. We like to eat, and it's all very romantic, I'm sure. We aren't ones to shy away from a challenge, or an excuse to eat all of the carbs. I know what you're thinking- "These two are couple goals." So when we were invited for a meal to celebrate The Smoke Haus' first birthday, we jumped at the chance. Well, there wasn't actual jumping- broken ankle problems and all that.

The Smoke Haus is a low lit space with exposed brick and hoards of framed photos of American icons. Imagine TGI Fridays without the glorified spectacle, and without overly chirpy (and singing) staff. Although it's dim lighting and dark decor may seem a little too gritty if you've never been there, it emulates everything that you would expect to see in an American bar. The restaurant showcases remarkable attention to detail, which is something I really appreciate in a themed eatery. By using a remote app on your iPhone, you can also control the music in the venue by voting for songs in the playlist. Thanks to us, the other guests enjoyed a wonderful noughties mix of Blink 182, Foo Fighters and Will Smith.

Friends With Benefits

I can't quite remember feeling like we were strangers. I know that we are friends now, in every sense of the word. It took me a while to see this, and to identify the heart of the matter. To really understand this peculiar dynamic, I hunted through collections of messages and notebooks until I found my source. Of course I went searching for evidence, as any amateur journalist would. Some of my memories were met with eye rolls and amusement, while others were a trigger to parts of me best forgotten.

We are not in constant contact, nor do we need to be. Something about me, and something about you, feels familiar. We stripped down old stereotypes and ignored the rule that says we can't be friends. We know that we were once important to each other, but we know what this is- and what it always was. There is no foolishness in our friendship, only the shadows of people we used to know.

Saturday, 8 August 2015

Thanks For Firing Me



The most insulting thing you could ever say to me, is that I'm stupid.

Call me bossy or boisterous, and call me aggressive because I'm a woman with a brain.
If you call me stupid, you might unravel me.

Two days ago, I was a scared little girl beaten by bad luck. I stood at a crossroads, and pulled the pin out of a grenade. I had no compass or atlas, no obvious direction towards my future. All I had was myself, and not much was left. Today, I'm starting my life all over again.

I spent weeks, maybe months trying to find something perfect to write about. I spent the longest time trying to evict shadows and exorcise self doubt, and I spent nights worrying that I was losing the ability to tell a story, especially my own. My life kept changing, and there was no record of any of it.

All I remember is landing on a rough charcoal side street.

I don't necessarily remember how I fell, only that I did.