Friday, November 30


3D Baby
Originally uploaded by La Beave.
Gotta love the odd personality test here and there. As long as they aren't too threatening ;)
So I have an innovitive personality type:

Summary of Innovators
-Energetic and creative taking inspiration from everyone they meet
-Enjoy flexible work environments with few rules and many opportunities for fun
-Think of themselves as imaginative, sociable and sympathetic
-May not think logically about their ideas

More about Innovators
Innovators are fun-loving, creative, sensitive people who enjoy developing their ideas by discussing them with others. This group supports the people around them and expects the same in return. Others are drawn to Innovators because of their love of life, caring nature and openness.
Innovators are most likely to say they do their best work when they start at the last minute, according to a UK survey.
Innovators are good at spotting opportunities and recognizing potential in people. Innovators put all their energy into new projects and their enthusiasm motivates others to support their plans.
In situations where they can’t use their talents or are unappreciated, Innovators may become rebellious and unfocused. Under extreme stress, Innovators may become preoccupied with meaningless details.
Innovators may over-extend themselves or put a night out with friends ahead of more pressing commitments.
Innovators are drawn to careers that require teaching or counselling, where they can work with and help encourage the development of others.

Out of 16 types... what are you?

Thursday, November 22

Things that make you go 'hmmmm?'

I found out some really REALLY unbelievably juicy gossip about my ex yesterday.
Not the kid's dad, the one after.
It's proper sharp intake of breath stuff.
And I Sooooooooooo want to tell all.
I mean it really is dire. Truly.
Not for myself or anything. Just.

It's SO juicy that its almost tangable. I'm literally opening and closing my fists with utter gooey yumminess of it all.
However there seems to be a sad element to the tale as far as other parties are concerned. So I really ought not to. Not that I would ever name names or anything anyway.


Ok... think of the most 'oooooo' piece of news you could hear about an ex, and perhaps you'll guess it.

Wednesday, November 21

Fifth Life Drawing Class

Fifth Life Drawing Class
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

Ok so I'm taking rather too much on at the moment.
But instead of getting wound up because I've not got the time to write like I want to, I'll just accept that I'm doing it at my own pace really and stop struggling.
After all, 20,000 words is a lot of effort to just spoil by getting upset and ditching the entire project.
At the end of the day, even without having all my art work to do, taking on Nanowrimo as a lone parent with three kids and a daytime job/study is a pretty mammoth task. And I only started it at least 4 days into the month with a vague plan.
I'll just potter along with it.
Having a long distance relationship is hard where things like this are concerned. It does make some things impossible to do. You cherish the special time you spend with your partner and you certainly can't say 'excuse me a moment while I write for two hours each night'. You can't. And you don't want to. So weekends where I see my Boyfriend are really non writing ones. Even if we aren't going out. We spend the time ensconced in each other. Yes even after 20 months!
In the evenings, I spend till ten o'clock each night busy with kids in some form, my eldest loving one on one attention when the other's are in bed. So most evenings I get alone time after ten o'clock.
Then I'll just be settling down and getting into the story, when I realise (because my eyes are heavy and I'm shattered) that it's late and I want to talk to the boyfriend on msn for a bit too.
Often this past month I've managed to miss him completely it's been so late. And then I feel bad and selfish.
If we lived near each other, or together, this would not be an issue. We'd have the chance to miss each other for awhile as I throw myself into the next endevour. Only because we'd see each other all the time anyway.
Am I making sense?

Not only that but I've got a life too.
I've been to see the following and not really blogged about it:
Darren Hayes at The Lowry - FANTASTIC
Stardust - Epic
Russell Howard at The Lowry - Excedingly funny
Beowulf in 3D at the IMAX in town - A bit of a let down.
A visit round the Christmas Market in town - always LOVELY
Manchester Museum visit TWICE - once with my mum for research purposes and once with the kids because I HAD to take them after I'd seen it.

I'm pretty sure I've missed bits out there like of course the Life Drawing classes, and the fact that last nights model had a very unusual and dubious arrangement of bright red bruises around his bottom area.

Also I've got mega news on the Exhibition front. It's running for a whole month, not a week like I thought. A MONTH!
Beyond exciting.
I'm whittling away at evaluations, personal statements for uni, open days for unies, UCAS forms to worry about, and which root I'm going to take. ETC ETC.
I've got an Open day to attend on Saturday and Thursday, parent/teacher afternoons with the kids, and my boyfriend's dad's birthday meal on Sunday.
There's the models I have to make of the sculpture I'm producing for the new project which only has another 4 weeks left to run. Metamorphosis. Which I've not really spoken about either. That's not to mention all the work I'm still doing to the previous Self Image project to get it up to a distinction grade.

How in Hera do I think I can fit another 30,000 words into that plan before 30th November?

Monday, November 19

Guy and Samantha

Samantha, that evening’s lucky lady, happened to live very close to Kingston train Station, and it was with a sneer that Guy passed it, remembering that he had the public transport to contend with for at least a couple of days next week too.
Soon he came to Samantha’s house.
Samantha and him were on a partial blind date. Well sort of anyway. It was a friend of a friend deal where they had briefly clocked eyes on each other at a work do, and then later on decided they were both lonely enough to attempt a date. Naturally Guy didn’t realise that Samantha felt that way, God’s gift to woman that he thought he was. So it was with a certain bravado he climbed the front path to her glass porch and front door.
He rang on the doorbell, and noted that her path could use a good weeding.
A few moments later and Samantha came through the interconnecting door and into the glass porch. She was wearing a knee length tunic style A line dress, bright electric blue and very eye catching. Guy appraised her and found himself suitably impressed. Her nose didn’t even seem as long tonight with her hair in that half bunch like that.
'Interesting,' thought Guy. 'Maybe she's worth more investment than I had originally intended. Maybe I'll take her to the expensive wine bar instead.'
They exchanged embarrassed greetings on the door consisting of a peck on the cheek, and Guy extended his arm to lead the way down the path.
He cringed when they came to his brother’s car.
“Sorry about the state of this shit thing,” he said hurriedly. “Mine’s in the garage so I had to borrow this one.”
Samantha smiled coyly at him.
“That’s what they all say on the first date,” she replied. “Then it turns out that they usually don’t even have a car at all!”
Guy was aghast.
“Look, I’ve even brought out the police report and everything to show you,” he said, withdrawing a slip of paper from his jacket.
Her eyebrows shot up into her blond fringe.
“A police report? What’s that for?”she asked, wondering at the same time why on earth he’d brought it to show her. Was he that desperate and shallow?
Guy, feeling somewhat desperate but not at all shallow, quickly handed her the paperwork across the top of the car, and climbed in it, lent over and unlocked her side. Samantha slowly got into the car while she looked the piece of paper over and also noted that he hadn’t held the car door open for her.
“Smashed in window eh? Thieves having a go no doubt.” She handed the slip back to him as he started the car.
“Fucking bastards tried to make off with my stereo.”

The two of them passed the short amount of time it took to get to the cinema theatre. The date was to be a movie, then drinks at a bar where Guy intended to impress her with his knowledge of cocktails and get her drunk, then back to his for sex. That was his plan anyway.
Thing’s didn’t go exactly as he’d have liked however. The first stumbling block was when the movie got going, and Guy came face to face with Arnold Schwarzenegger as the leotard wearing Running Man.
He sat shocked and open mouthed at the screen. Samantha turned to ask what was wrong.
“Well it’s homosexual pornography they are promoting!” he exclaimed loudly, making the guy in front turn around in his chair and glare.
Samantha was a little shocked and frowned at him.
“It’s hardly porno graphical. He’s fully clothed!”
“You can see his bulge,” Guy hissed loudly in her ear,and Samantha snorted with mirth.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she said, laughing still and turning back to the movie.
Guy noted her reaction and decided to sit quietly. She obviously enjoyed this kind of filth on the screen. Then he would sit through it too, although he had planned on walking out. For over the next hour, Guy sat there reluctantly and his emotions changed from disgusted, to horrified, to enthralled, to disgusted in quick succession as the movie played out. Samantha on the other hand seemed to be enjoying it all. Was she some kind of psycho killer nut job, he wondered?
The next thing to go wrong on Guy’s plan was that she didn’t drink very much, and as he began to show off his knowledge of cocktails, she began to yawn. She obviously didn’t care about the best way to construct a tequila sunrise. She also didn’t seem too interested when he juxtapositioned the constructions of said tequila sunrise and his favourite Dungeons and Dragons clay figurine. He knew he was losing the battle here to win her into his bed, and decided that the only thing for it was to bail out fast and try again some when else before the entire night was a wash out.
So he suggested they leave, and she agreed quickly.
The two got back into the yellow car, and Guy drove them back to her place. The night was definitely still quite young, so he decided to push his luck, seeing as he’d had to go through the inconvenience of that film after all. Maybe she’d invite him into hers instead if he played his cards right? He killed the engine on the ridiculous car, and watched as she began to reach inside her purse for her front door key. He knew she was trying to speed things up, but maybe if he showed her a bit of manly macho action like on that movie she’d be putty in his arms?
So as Samantha began to make her excuses and say her goodbyes in the car outside the house, he suddenly lunged forcefully forwards in an attempt to overwhelm her with his passionate kisses. Unfortunately she wasn’t prepared for his intentions, and concentrating on her handbag, she looked down at exactly the same time. His teeth crashed into her forehead, biting down hard and causing blood to pour into his open mouth.
“ARGH!” he cried, pulling back and grabbing his front teeth, sure that they were no longer there. The pain was shooting into his skull, but his teeth miraculously were still sitting where they ought to be. Samantha however wasn’t. She had flopped limply forwards, straining her seat belt, saying nothing at all.
Oh good god I’ve killed the stupid bitch, he thought in horror, and he tilted her backwards in the chair. Blood had spread all down her face and around her eyes, making her look like she was wearing a red rubber mask.
“Samantha!” he shouted, shaking her. “You stupid whore, what have you done?”
She began to frown and groan, and with relief that spread to his groin and made him feel like pissing himself, he saw that she was in fact not dead, just concussed.
One hand flew to her forehead, the other one batting him away and she groaned again.
“What the fuck?” she slurred.
Guy wasted no time at all, and jumped out of his side of the car, running round to hers. He opened the door, lent over her body to undo the seat belt, resisting the urge to cup her breast while she was semi conscious and heaved her from the car.
Then he half dragged, half helped the poor woman walk to her front door.
“Come on, let us in,” he said cajoling, and Samantha fumbled in her purse for the key, operating on some sort of autopilot.Together they grappled with the lock, and finally she fell through the porch, into the house, and onto the sofa in the front room. Guy stood in the glass porch, uncertain of what should be done.
“Just leave will you?” she managed to say, before cradling her head in her hands and beginning to cry. He didn’t need to be told twice.
Guy grabbed the front door key from the lock, let himself out shutting the door behind him, and locked it again. Then he posted the key through her letterbox, shouted 'I'll call you' and turned and ran down the path to the yellow car.
Not the most successful date ever, he thought to himself as he drove away.

Thursday, November 15

A little more?

They went through the normal morning routine.
Joe got himself washed and dressed while Maggie sat up in bed, ordering her thoughts such as they were, supping her tea, and asking questions about family members long since gone.
He didn’t mind the repetition at all. He wasn’t the sort to mind, but the sort to get on with it without question, especially in matters of the heart. He was strong, he’d been through world wars, he could care for her for as long as she needed him to.
He laid out her clothes on her bed, and then went to prepare some toast under the grill while Maggie got herself together. She was still able to get herself dressed for the most part, depending on the outfit of course, and she had an awful lot of pride in that, as though deep down she knew she was slipping.
God I hope not, thought Joe not for the first time, as he buttered toast. But sometimes she looked at him in such a way that sent chills up and down his bent spine. Her eyes would become haunted. Imploring. Apologetic. Fearful. Sometimes she definitely knew, and it scared her more than death itself.
Joe needed a break from these thoughts. So he tuned in the radio that sat in the corner of the kitchen worktop, and he and Maggie listened to a talk show while they ate.
Joe constantly found his gaze outside the window, unfocused, for when you live on the eighth floor of a high rise building, there isn’t much to focus the eyes when sitting and looking across the window but air. Although Joe suddenly realised he had been staring at what seemed to be a dark shadow on the windowpane that moved across like a whisp of smoke.
He was sat like that, listening with one ear on the radio, and his mind wandering, when Maggie let out a shrill cry. Joe startled immediately and he got up from his chair. Maggie was holding her hands in the sink, craddling them.
“Are you alright love? What’s wrong?” he asked, moving quickly to her side.
“I was only trying to rinse the dishes,” she sighed, and held out her hand for him to see. Quite a bit of blood had pooled in her palm where she’d cut herself on a knife, but the wound wasn’t too bad. It just looked worse because the blood had been mixed with water from the running tap. Joe cursed himself for his lack of attention, and washed the cut clean, making Maggie moan a little from the stinging.
Then after fixing her up with a plaster, he saw to it that she sat down in the sitting room for a bit while he sorted the rest of the dishes out himself.
It was going to be one of those days, he could tell.
He poked his head through the serving hatch and called to her.
“You alright there dear?”
“Yes, fine fine.” The cat was happily craddled in her lap and she seemed to have forgotton about the cut hand.
Joe reached for the tea towel and began to dry the plates.

Monday, November 12

Joseph and Margret

The room was dark still, condensation rolling over the sub-standard window frame and pooling onto the windowsill. It was early and only the cats were stirring, wanting their breakfast.

Two figures lay in two single beds, set barely a foot apart in the bedroom. They were hard to make out in the gloom, and with heavy felt blankets piled high. A soft snoring came from one of the beds, the one with the pink coloured blanket on. The figure in the other bed turned over, and an old man’s face was visible, worn and crumpled. His eyes were open and alert, and he took in his wife’s countenance. His hand pushed through the covers, and reached across the gap between the beds. Joe gently stroked his wife’s face.

There was once a time when it would have been the other way round, Joe remembered. Used to be that she’d always be up before him. Always rouse him with gentle loving words in his ear, and possibly a cup of tea on the night stand. Now things were different. She slept more and more these days. Her body just seemed to function like a wind up toy that’s almost out of energy. It worried him, but he said nothing. Who was there to say anything to?

Margret still didn’t wake, even with his hand laid on her cheek, so Joe began to peel back the layers from his bed like an onion and he swung his legs over the edge. He was wearing one of those traditional pajama sets, with the vertical stripes and collar. The pajama top hid a white vest underneath that gave him extra warmth.
Lately the nights had been so very cold, and they couldn't’t pay to have the heating on all the time.

Joe got up, and pushed past a brown tabby cat that tried in vain to get his attention by tripping him up. He wasn’t to be distracted however, and his goal was a warm dressing gown and a pair of slippers. The air was like slipping into a cold bath.
The kettle became the next goal, and quickly Joe got it filled with water and the switch flicked on.
He sat down at the kitchen table to wait for the water to boil. Directly in front of him was a large window showing nothing but his own reflection sitting there, the darkness beyond turning the window into a murky mirror.
His eyes travelled over his reflection.
“Just when did I get so old,” he muttered to himself.
He sat staring until the water roared ferociously in the kettle, telling him to get the tea pot out and the cat had begun to meow it’s disgust.
He had the first cup on his own, sat at the table, with only his own reflection and tired mind for company. But before it threatened to become too cold, he took a cup of tea into the bedroom for his beloved wife.

She was still fast asleep, and he laid the cup down on the night table, using the doily in order to save the battered old teak a little. He stooped nearer to her, joints complaining, and smelled the rose scent that she bathed in, noted the white curls of head spilling over her pillow. She used to be the most amazing shade of strawberry blond.

“Maggie sweetheart… wake up. Tea.”
Her wrinkled forehead creased even more as she stirred, and eyes, grey with age, opened. It took a moment or two, where they frantically searched his face, and then there was lucidity.
“Morning Joseph,” she smiled. “Am I still beautiful?”
He sat down on the edge of her bed and held her tiny hand. He felt like he could snap those weightless bones in a second if he wanted to. The bones of a bird.
He dismissed those thoughts.
“Always my love.”

Sunday, November 11


The holy grail. The episode of South Park that I have been yearning for, but is rarely shown on the paramount channel. For it's true. I am a World Of Warcraft player. I make no appologies.

For the next part, just click the link that shows at the end of each segment.

Sunday, November 4

*prises eyes open*

Large piece 2
Originally uploaded by La Beave.
Yes well...
It's not all nanowrimo round here you know!
Did this painting this afternoon and I'm pleased with it. Gotta just modify the background on the other painting (the tutor didn't like it) and then I'm nearly done with this self image project. Just more stitching to do. SIGH.
I'm not into the stitching that much!
Wrote a 1000 word chunk of nano too. I'm liking the whole story in my head. Whether it comes out right is a different matter.
I listened to WriRadio today and was inspired by some woman on there talking about her first drafts. She's a published writer and realised that the main ideal for first drafts is JUST to get the story out of you and down (on paper etc). The messing about with dialogue, or description, whatever - the fine tuning- comes much later. And worrying about the nitty gritty in the first draft is bonkers. Writing without worrying about the details sounds like such a freeing thing! I'm way to bogged down with producing something ready to read straight away, to show people, to prove i can write. When half the time I'm not able to get it out because of that. I was even thinking how turning OFF spell check on Word would make me SO much faster. The amount of times I'm writing a sentence and then have to back track to change a word, or just pick my hands away from the keyboard to right click the mouse for the correct spelling, is phenominal. (teehee) We all know I can't spell. But i don't have to! It's stopping me writing, going to and fro all the time. I think I'll find it so much easier to write it out, then turn spell check on later.
Has anyone else had this idea ???
Am I a genius ???
I thought so.

Friday, November 2


I have direction!
I have a plan.
I have character lists, bios, etc.
I even have a well thought out plot.
I wonder whether I'll have the patience/time.

Ok so all I have written of the actual story so far is 194 odd words, but that doesn't take into account all the writing I have done on paper fleshing out the story.
Now I'm not sure I should blog it as I write it. Because I've a system on how to write it that isn't how it'll end up once I've shuffled chapters around. So it wont read as good yet.
I think I'll pop snippets in.

"The morning air was cool outside the thick windowpane, whipping around the trees that had just started to turn, releasing them of their light feathery burden one leaf by one. The chill beat against that windowpane, demanding entrance but being denied. Warm central heated air lived here instead, and it wasn’t about to let strangers in. It gushed generously upwards from the thick radiator, and moved the curtains ever so slightly, peeking around them to mock the cold morning outside.
Light had yet to start filtering through those moving curtains, but already sounds of activity were coming from inside the house. A radio played energetically on a bedside table, despite the early hour, and Rick Astley was apparently never gonna give anyone up. The bedroom however was empty. The large bachelor style grey marl duvet had been thrown back from the bed, exposing a still warm man shaped dent in the slightly grubby under sheet. Footsteps sunk into the thick weave carpet led away from the only light, a feeble lamp on the bed stand next to the radio. Following these leads us to a hallway and a sound of a shower."

Thursday, November 1

Peanuts? - It's bulky but I consider it a carry on.

Large piece Number One
Originally uploaded by La Beave.

I need help!
I'm considering trying this years Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month). Crazy huh.
It has officially started now.
Only problem is that I don't have any plot, characters, nuffin!
This is so completely spur of the moment, I can't tell ya.
Plus I'm stupidly busy, as we all know!

I really want that 'high' of finishing a novel though. Damn it was good. Best feeling ever. On a par with receiving my exam results really.
It's addictive too, and I want it!
Anyone got a spare plot/character handy I could take out for a test drive? Or anyone got a favourite genre of novel they can share with me?
Personally I've always wanted to go a bit epic - David Eddings epic - with the whole fantasy other relm thing. But I'll need to write 2,500 words a day, including today. (That gives me a couple of days off)
So I need to come up with something smartish!
I'm off to college now to ponder what the hell that might be.
Oooo hell.
Different plains of existance.
Parallel worlds.
Something crossing...

Too many possabilities damnit!


I've just had an epiphany. I know what I want to do. It needs serious fleshing out. But it's a cute idea. And unusual I think. Hmmm.