Archive for the ‘Writings’ Category

I want

Posted: July 10, 2015 in Writings
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I want. The most under used and over used statement in the English language.

As a child, roaming the aisles of a crowded super market, your eyes catch all the fancies it has to offer. You peruse the ‘sweetie’ shelves trying to decide which chocolate it is you would like and then you call out to your mum or dad in the neediest possible tone… “Muuuuuuummmmm, I want this!” She scolds you for whining and promptly refuses, after all, you are at the corner store for only a pint of milk. Grossly disheartened you try again in the hopes that this time she will acknowledge and deliver on your request… “But mummmmmm, I want it” and before the words have cooled off of your tongue, she speedily backhands your arse. In her most disciplinary tone she turns to you and at the top of her maternal voice shouts “I want DOESN’T get” leaving you in tears, sans the chocolate with a red faced woman pulling your arm to remove you from the store – After all, she is the embarrassed one.

And there it begins, we are engrained with the ‘I want, doesn’t get’ mantra. We learn to stop asking because we no longer enjoy the disappointment. We learn in time that if we truly want something, we can rely on no one else but ourselves to go out and get it. We learn that we do not actually know what we want and so spend hours searching for a brand of vacuum cleaner we like or a washing powder that is practical. We forget that we wanted to do something meaningful with our lives and instead ended up doing something sensible. We spent a childhood WANTING and being told we could not have, only to grow up as adults who know longer know how to get what we want. That is, if we have been smart enough to figure it out at all.

Now you are with friends, a partner or family and you decide that no one feels like cooking tonight. The question is put out there “What do you want for dinner?” You can’t answer. The truth is you do not know what you want and because your sub conscious has been trained not to know, you spend 45 minutes perusing the take out menu only to decide that a trip to Tesco’s for a loaf of bread would probably be the cheaper, more practical option, though no one else agrees. Deep down, you knew you wanted a pizza but because everyone else wanted fried chicken it was probably the safest option. So you give in, you concede to the majority because that is the easier way, to give in to what everyone else wants to save you the hassle of making a final decision only to have it challenged.

We have become a nation of drones. We either know what we want but are too afraid to say it… or we don’t have a clue what we want and so we ‘go with the flow’. We never give definite answers, women have memes created about them and we spend our lives miserable and unsatisfied because we were too indoctrinated to speak up. We pose questions for which the responses are vague. We answer questions with questions. If something is asked of us we respond with words such as maybe, possibly, we could, we can, I don’t mind, why not. We have become afraid of saying I WANT. We fear judgement and so we have forgotten what it is to speak up. We fear ourselves and so we have forgotten what it is to live. We fear that knowing what it is we want will be the destruction of thinking what it is we need. We live responsibly – Working in jobs that are safe, driving cars that are practical, eating foods because we should, being agreeable because it is expected.

I ask people daily… What do you WANT to do with your life and never do I receive a response that is selfish. You would imagine that this is a good thing, right? No. If I ask a mum of two what she wants for her future, she may say that if her children are happy then she is happy. Sounds legit. Well it’s a load of crap because that same mum actually wanted to be a pilot and travel the world but she didn’t and now she won’t because she fears that it won’t relate to what other people or her children want. So she forgets what she wants and when asked the question, she cannot answer, she cannot disappoint herself.

Well I say fuck that.

It is about time that we stopped being sheep. It is about time that we learn to stand up and shout from the roof tops what it is we want. Why is it so difficult for adults to just open their mouths and let their desires out without fearing rejection, judgement, disappointment and ridicule? When did it become ok to just DO because it’s the right thing instead of LIVE because you have desires to fulfil?

If I asked you what you wanted, could you answer? Could you release your deepest desires and be wholly truthful without fearing your own response? I am not talking generic answers, being happy isn’t a WANT – It is a state of mind. I am talking specifics. I am talking honesty. I am talking raw, heartfelt cravings for yourself and for your life.

I am not saying you have to have it all figured out but by Gods, at least try! At least be grown up enough to speak what you think instead of censor yourself for public viewing, If you want something say so! In the same breath, if you don’t want something, say it as well.

Our parents may have said ‘I want doesn’t get’ to us many times, but they also said something else. They said ‘If you don’t ask, you don’t get.’ Perhaps we should’ve listened a little more to that one instead.

Next time someone asks you what it is you want for dinner, just tell them you wanted the pizza. Maybe finally you’ll get something you want.

Cacophony of silence

I berate thee

You placate me

Not forever you say

But here in darkness

To breathe

To stay

I tire of the company

Living only for one

I watch

The world goes by

Without me

Not a second thought

No one dare try

Smiles, laughs

Only shadows care

And in my solitude

I ponder, I wait

Change comes not

Loneliness, my fate

Time passes

I stand still


Faux resolve

You think me strong

My head, weak

Heart unfeeling

Do I dare speak?

To say what comes

To mind, my dear

Will only do harm

And so the noisy

Silence persists

I plug my ears

I block the sound

Arms enveloping me

Soul shielded from

The storm

Darkness here

My only friend

I long for her

To bring me home

In a time before women were allowed to vote and men had mani pedi’s, our breast wielding predecessors were happy to restrict their movements by way of a corset and stay home to tend the home and children. Those days are long gone, instead we wear corsetry for sexual prowess and only marry a man willing to tend the home and children so we do not have to. Who are we? The modern, 21st century woman with independence and a career – We are a single man’s worst nightmare.

Making a statement meant wearing a pair of pants and non-conformity was met with oppression

Women before me spent hundreds, no thousands of years fighting their way to the top of any ladder they could – Political, financial, emotional to name but a few. They donned their bonnets and walked the streets, picketed their views for all to see. Making a statement meant wearing a pair of pants and non-conformity was met with oppression. It has always been an underlying fuel to any gender driven fire – A woman, refusing to be held down by societal norms, wanting only to be found as equal.

Well here we are, 21st century women in arms living the spoils of the gender equality war. And are we happy? I don’t think we are not happy, I think we are too proud to admit that women before us fought so hard for something we are not even sure we wanted or still want – To be independent, to be emotionally self-supporting and to be reliant on only ourselves for anything we could or would want. A man, a relationship, sex, love – It is on our terms, we call the shots and if it exists it is only because we allow it to.  Or so we think…

SO what happened? When did we skip the grey area between the two extremes? On the one hand we chose not to be oppressed but on the other we choose to need nothing but what we can give ourselves. What happened to being dependent with an opinion and why do women come under such scrutiny for wanting to be a stay at home mother, reliant on her husband but still having a voice and actually wanting to support and give her husband what he needs to make her happy. Surely we should be acceptable of the middle ground when we advocate for the extreme.

General perception said that a woman’s place was behind her man and in the home, his place was to bring home the bacon

We have forgotten that in those times of ‘oppression’, many (if not most at the time) revered the role of doting housewife. General perception said that a woman’s place was behind her man and in the home, his place was to bring home the bacon. So now, the modern woman has the opposite – She can go out, make and have a career, bring home the bacon and refuses to stand behind anyone. But what makes standing behind your husband any less admirable than what you do by being self-sufficient.

As a gender, women are the nastiest kind. We judge the women that choose the dependent lifestyle and rebuff the 21st century norms that say a woman need not have a man to be happy. And what of the men? The confused souls that have to endure this ever-changing mind-set and never know where they stand… We tell them we want independence and do not need them but when they do not provide what we expect them to, we emasculate them and make them feel worthless. We tell them that they can be whoever they want to be but when they take metro sexual strides, we mock their sexuality. We say that we don’t need them to play the role of the man, the provider, the bread-winner and yet work them so hard they are filled with resentment.

With much love I say that the modern woman wants to have her cake and eat too and she needs to take a step back and evaluate what she wants before calling any more of the shots. I have said ‘we’ all this time because as a gender we have always wanted one thing, equality, but in some way we have managed to abuse that and use it to our advantage – No longer do we feel we are equal but we now act as if we are superior. Who are the oppressed one’s now?

The societal pressure is still there, to be the career woman. The perfect mother. The perfect wife. A lady in the streets but a freak in the bed. To have and keep it together, always. I am just saying that it is OK not to slander the women who choose the lifestyles they do, in fact that makes them more modern than any of those fighting for independence. If a mother chooses not to work, if a wife chooses to cook and clean, if a woman chooses not to have children or if a lady chooses she only ever wants to be single it is because of choice. Who are the rest of us to decide that their choice is any better than our own?

So who is the modern woman?

She is the woman with choice.


Dark blankets shadow the night

A moon, ever glowing, ever white

Hidden and removed from my sight

Lost to me, sadness, my only light

Sinking, swallowing, feeling alone

Tired of listening, hearing me moan

No ring, no message, no telephone

The sound of silence, the lingering drone

No one around to see me weep

No human touch, my hand to keep

Tangled emotion locked away deep

From pit to pillar, my love does leap

Away from them, myself I did shove

Thought of my actions only for love

Hurting, aching, longing to see their face

Smell their hair, feel their embrace

So difficult on my own it has been

Many aches, many nights, my tears unseen

So it draws near, the end that is nigh

Each dragging day, ending with a sigh

So close you are, so far away

Why does tomorrow always feel like today?

And yet soon I’ll wake up and so it shall be

Finally, you here with me

The concept of impatience is a rather interesting one when you take the time to delve deeper into the inner workings of the human mind. We rush through hours only to wait days… We spend our whole lives trying to get somewhere as fast as humanly possible and yet we only ever get anywhere at the time and place we are supposed to.

I’ve spent a few days conceptualising my thoughts into a coherent piece of writing on the subject and was listing various examples of being impatient when a prime example happened in front of my very eyes on the train. A stand off in the rail doorway. You want to get off. I want to get on. Let’s waste time in a face off while others climb on effortlessly at alternative entrances. So what did either of us gain? Absolutely nothing but annoyance for the rest of our journey home, the train still arrived at its destination at the exact time it was supposed to.

We are impatient even when we don’t realise it. Driving along you may find yourself cursing the traffic light because it turned red just before you managed to get through it, not stopping to realise that had this light been green, the next would’ve been red anyway. Aggravation reigns and we arrive at our end destination at the exact time that the universe intended… Either way, would it not be easier to be thankful that you arrived rather than annoyed at the inevitable waiting?

We watch our children grow in anticipation of the next event… Their next birthday, the next Christmas, the next family holiday or another year at school. We forget to live in the here and now, focusing on what’s coming instead of what’s already in front of us. Ignoring the fact that ageing is measured anyway and the children will only be that age in that particular moment, never again. There is no time to waste on anything but the present and yet we become the parents impatient with their dawdling around a shopping mall or rushing them through homework, we become the parent holding one hand tightly and dragging them along as they trail behind doing the very thing we cannot seem to get right into adulthood – Living.

Every day we exist through impatience. We rush through breakfast, push through traffic, race to our desks, hurry through the day, escape through the door at the end of the day and then relay home again until finally we make our way to our beds… Not understanding why we are so worn out at the end of the day. The elevator will not go any faster by pushing the floor buttons multiple times, the train doors don’t open any quicker if you push the button repeatedly before the lights come on, your dinner won’t cook any faster when you’re watching the oven and the kettle won’t boil any sooner while your fingers tap the counter. You’ve risked your life impatiently running across the road before the pedestrian crossing light is illuminated, took a chance on an orange traffic light, ran across a train track. We leave the house and cannot remember if we turned the hair straightener off or not, blaming it on OCD instead of lack of attention. We speed walk around instead of stopping to take it all in. We skip the song before its finished in anticipation of the next one. We read the back pages of books before we’ve even read the blurb. We speed read to avoid reading the full article and abbreviate words in texts because we’re too impatient to write out a full word. We rap songs instead of sing ballads, we break dance instead of waltz, we order take out instead of cooking, we shower instead of bath, we drive instead of walk and we are too busy doing all of this that before we know it, we wake up as a middle aged human being realising that all we did is speed to this point of existence and anything of substance was lost in the stream…

I am tired of being impatient. I’m tired of being tired… It’s difficult to let go of what’s been tattooed into your very existence, it’s almost impossible to back track to before fast paced was normal. The thought of doing everything at an average speed instead of the rate of knots is daunting but it’s the resolution I intend on keeping in the forefront of my mind in 2015. To be impatient is to be ignorant and inconsiderate – to be impatient is to the detriment of no one but yourself – to be impatient is a rather lonely existence I’d like to pass up on. To be impatient is merely to exist.

Slow down, no one is going to slow down for you, no one is going to thank you for speed reading through life and at the end of it all, no matter how fast or slow you may be going, it’s at the exact pace it’s supposed to be so you may as well enjoy the ride.

I miss you every weekend
miss your faces every day
miss it when you are naughty
miss all the little things you say

I miss seeing you in the morning
miss brushing your hair at night
miss begging you to brush your teeth
miss fighting about the light

I miss how cute you can be
Miss seeing your big toothy smiles
Miss you being grumpy
Miss all the moments that you’ve cried

I miss everything about you
Miss just being your mum
Miss how you smell, touch and feel
Miss everything you’ve done

Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you
Not a day goes by that I don’t see
the emptiness that comes with
You not being with me…

siobhan 3a

I had every intention of boarding this train to write a blog to rival the best of them. A piece of work that would have each and every reader rivoted from the very first line. A piece of writing that incorporated only the most sophisticated of writing styles on one of the most controversial topics I could find. A blog that would perhaps one day be recognised by a blogging council and maybe even win an award, the blog that would get me recognised in the blogging community and not just writings of a misunderstood mind. The truth is that the blog I am talking about doesn’t exist because, well, it just is not me.

When I started writing, I fooled myself into believing that I wrote for myself. That writing was therapeutic and it was the only way that I knew how to channel this big personality. For a time I believed that my thoughts and pieces were written for me and me alone, I kept written and printed copies of my writings and referred back to them when I needed inspiration, motivation or when I just wanted a reminder of why I was as dark and brooding as I was. Then social media flew onto the scene and suddenly writing was not just for me anymore, it was a way to get noticed.

I spent a lot of time lonely growing up… I was constantly surrounded by people and yet never had I felt more alone than in my early teens. I was not looking for attention, I was not trying to mimic the ‘wannabes’ that surrounded me. I was just a really confused kid, I did not know where I was going and chose to forget where I had been. I liken myself to Hank Moody’s Becca in Californication sans the guitar playing. I was an emo kid, before emo kid was cool. I was a black sheep before being a black sheep was mainstream. I tested the waters of many a label before I realised there was no label for me and I tried to put myself into many boxes knowing that there was no box I would be comfortable in. I spent hours pouring my confusion, my thoughts and my misguided aspirations into words on paper. It was only when the idea of a blog or social media arrived that I realised my writing could be put out there, that someone somewhere may understand what I have written and perhaps even identify with me… Maybe someone out there was like me? Maybe I did not have to be screwed up on my own…

I remember the first time I put a piece of my own writing on the internet. Long after I was chastised in my English writing class for submitting a piece of work based on the fight between good and evil, the unwritten book of Revelations that I was told was blasphemous and earned me an F for that particular piece of writing. Long after I had started writing poetry and started writing my own book (numerous times may I add, I still have not gotten that right). I became part of the 5FM blogging community and suddenly there were people around me, anonymous ‘people’ that were interested in what I had to say. They were encouraging me to post my writings online. They wanted to READ my most private thoughts and for some unknown reason, I was willing to give it to them!

I remember how belittled I felt when the criticism started, suddenly every one was a writer and I had the grammar police critiquing my English more than people were actually commenting on the subject matter. Surely these people should care about what I have written? Surely the importance of the content far outweighed the fact that I put a comma after the word and (Which is now acceptable I believe). I did not write to become a writer, I was writing to heal myself. I was writing because I wanted to make sense of my thoughts. I was writing because, I had nothing else to do. Now that I could write and post these writings online, it was time to have a concrete shake and deal with the criticism – Suddenly my misguided self medication was not for myself anymore, I was writing to please the people in the PC. I was writing because I wanted to get noticed, I was writing because I wanted someone to care.

How ‘special’ I felt when these bloggers started giving me positive comments, like I was doing something right! This only encouraged me to post as much as possible online and I felt like people finally understood me, I was not alone anymore. How ridiculous a thought that I was seeking approval from people I had never met (Some that I still am in contact with) instead of those closest to me. I was completely misguided in feeling comfortable posting my most emotional works on a blogging site when I could not even share these with friends or family.

Many years was spent posting my life’s work online… Poems I had written in dark times (Available on this blog under the writings section), stories, pieces, rants, reviews… Admittedly, I wanted to be heard and I still do – I am still here aren’t I? I am comfortable now, posting my thoughts here on my own site for the world including those closest to me to see. Do I still seek approval? Or course. Writing is still therapeutic to a degree but at the end of the day, I am in a position where I feel like I have a voice and I want it to be heard, posting these thoughts online is my way to get noticed and my audience is global. I feel honoured, accepted, approved of when people from all around the world take the time to get interested in my work…

Thanks to the internet, I am not just some dark brooding female holed up in a room with a pen and paper.Thanks to the people who actually give a crap, I still have a blog and even if I only get 1 view a day I know that someone took the time to read what I had to say… and that is worth far more than self medicating with a dictionary. I am not always intelligent, I am not always linguistically superior and I am not always controversial. Sometimes I want to write for the sake of writing, like today, like now sitting on this train when I decided that my award winning blog could wait because my desire to ramble was far more important…

Shevy Xxx