Credit

I've been reading the cards much more lately, they told me about the opportunity, they also said a date when something would happen, Tuesday, in October, which I'm waiting for. They also told me the other night that I may well be in for a disappointment before a triumph, a very confusing read.

I really don't know what to expect right now, my funny-feelings are all over the place, I suppose you can't lose what you never had so there's no point getting too worked up about it. What will be will be won't it?
I am in the mean time updating my credentials and putting together a portfolio, I don't think I've gained new skills, more I've realised I already had skills I simply hadn't used before. I am not an idiot, I am not so weak. I believe I am capable of more than I was at first considering taking on. Chrissie's right...I should give myself more credit.

Week One.

I've done one week and yes a part of me feels fulfilled and proud and worth while, but I also feel a little uncertain. This uncertainty is rooted at a disbelief in myself I suppose but mainly my thoughts have staggered in regards to my latest couple of books, I'm slamming into a brick wall when in recent months I've been spinning almost out of control on a racetrack of inspiration. I hope it's just a combination of new nerves and tiredness, I can't let myself lose the flow I've gotten back. It's taken me such a long time to get back here.

I'm facing a crossroads in terms of where I put my energies and unfortunately I know which road is expected, necessary, sensible.
The other road is dangerous, potentially foolhardy, poverty riddled but its that road that's right. Simple. I know which way I should be walking but I'm going to do what I'm good at doing...ignoring myself and pleasing others. I'm not turning my back on Grace, I'm just putting the real world first and I hate myself a little for it.

It's only been a week, and I haven't spoken about this out loud to anyone, but I feel as if I've already lost part of myself. Don't judge me on that. It's just how I feel.

Taboo

You know girls don't talk about it...even the ones who claim to be 'naughty' or with high sex drives, they just don't talk about what happens behind closed doors when you're on your own sometimes. I'm not saying we should have a sign on the door that says 'Self-love in progress' but the ability to normalise the ermmm 'act' of ermm 'self-satsifaction' well it would be another tick in the box of modernism. It happens! Its healthy! Sometimes there is no useful male around and it's just got to get done. So dirty scenes on Youtube from favourite past movies...it happens, dirty passages from 'erotic fiction'...it happens, just your own vivid imagination of something wild and never going to happen or a juicy memory of last time the useful male was around!

It was the fireman again, I don't know what it is! but there's this ridiculous 2 part scenario I have in my head that will never happen, I don't even own a tea trolley! and this fireman comes up, all in uniform and he's grey haired and crinkly eyes (he's almost but not quite someone I sort of know, that's irrelevant! he's not a fireman anyway so it doesn't count) it's the uniform that does it, and the stubbly beard and then after a bit of chit chat...chit chat for Christ's sake and pouring tea the scene cuts to a store cupboard or something and I'm bent over backwards around some table or other and fireman is well... you know! In that yellow, red coat they wear, and white t-shirt.

So I had a fireman moment today, it was necessary and because it's unacceptable to talk about such things and I can't have a girly giggle with anyone because its taboo I'm writing it out on here! Because who else am I going to talk to about it?

September

As I've been saying, something always happens in September. There's no point in worrying too much until September has come and gone. 16th September marked a change, an uncertain change but nevertheless progress at least. It may not lead anywhere but we shall see, at least I have accomplished some sort of unsteady step in the direction of my future. If I make it through this and gain some sort of certainty at the end I'll then be proud of myself, until then, I'm still a little lost and unsure.

RIP Scumbag

My first book, published and available on Amazon.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=sian%20siviter&sprefix=sian+%2Cdigital-text

First book

I've published my first finished book online. In about twelve hours it should be available for purchase around the world on what is probably the best thing that's come from the internet next to advertising...Self publishing through kindle. It's not my masterpiece, it's not my best, it's not Grace but this is my first and it has my name on it. A simple chick flick that has gotten that particular genre out of my system. My second will be a drama, more intense, more serious, it will be better but for now I have stepped out onto the first stone and for now that's enough. If one person I don't know reads it, reviews it then I'll feel a glimmer of success and self worth.

four walls again

I hate it here. I've hated it for years and not once have I felt like I was exaggerating. Everyday I wake up and it's not long before something makes me hate it from the core inside of me. It's the only thing that's really made me who I am. I am encouraged to push forward only because I want to get out of here and be in my own home. I don't care if it takes every penny I ever earn, I don't care if it's barely wider than a garden shed, I just desperately want it to be mine and be different from these four walls. I get sod all from these people, and what I do have from my own pocket isn't respected what so ever.

Arthritis in the morning.

The doctors said the stomach aches every morning were related to my arthritis. Something about the stationary position of sleep, the natural chill of the morning and my sudden excursion (if you can call getting up and boiling the kettle excursion) all combined. I thought I might outgrow this morning discomfort but no. When my joints are cramping up and throbbing  the night before and I rise from bed fairly early I feel like a ton of bricks are settling in my stomach and my joints go....Criiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeaak. I've always wanted to crawl back into bed with a hot water bottle, in my present life I could do that but I want to get on with the day and accomplish something. This is another reason why I want to be a paid writer....I could sit down at a desk with a hot drink and a water bottle on my lap and do what I love in comfort. It would suit my dreams and my body.

down a well. poem

Can anybody hear me?
I'm stuck down a well
there's no one else for miles...as far as I can tell
It's dark down here
dirty and damp too
If you wont even send down the bucket
then screw you!

Resized

I haven't resized yet. Since being shrunk down to the size of a nail I still haven't recovered. I'm highly annoyed by this because I wish I didn't care but I do. Those words hurt something inside me some people will never understand. They don't understand because they don't have these four walls. They're not being suffocated excruciatingly slowly.

Don't put up with that again Siviter. This is not the kitchen floor, or the edge of the bath tub. Don't you ever let someone make you feel that way again. We know what we're worth that's what counts damn it. Haven't I been saying that the last two years?

Grace, we've got so much to prove. So much of ourselves we can't forget about because there's only us trying to remember you know that right? Just you and me. We've got a lot to prove to a lot of people, most of all to ourselves. I'll be damned if I don't succeed.

Sometimes it's just us. poem

Sometimes it's just us,
and those times that's enough
Chin up my girl, I know who you are,
when you forget I'll remind you.
Put those autumn leaves back in your hair
one day we'll be somewhere
I promise, one day we'll be somewhere.
I won't forget when others do
I won't leave when enviably they do
I'm all you need, to see this life through.
Sometimes it's just us,
and those times that's enough.

September poem

It's September again,
I should have known that kind of feeling
always lasts longer than you think,
it sure has lasted longer than that last summer did
If I could take that goodbye back
If I'd laid down on the tracks
then maybe this September
You'd be here and not under the grass

Recent Nightmares

I keep having nightmares that I'm in a situation where a young child needs saving, and the child is always different. Sometimes it's one of my nieces, other times it's a character from a movie or a complete stranger. I always seem to fail. I'm so close to getting through the door with them in my arms, or I've almost reached them in the shadows and then I wake up and my mind is clinging desperately to the scattering remains of the dream as my body registers the bed and the light from the window.
I've had these dreams several times now and with the way my days have been going lately and the waiting room I'm imprisoned in I've started wondering if my subconscious is crying out. I spent an hour and half this evening putting 100% effort into something that made me feel small. I'd be lucky for it to lead anywhere, that's what I can hear my own stupid voice saying, but I wanted more than this. Part of me hopes it doesn't lead anywhere, because if it does I'll be obliged to accept something that makes me feel insignificant. It's not writing, it's not Grace, it's not even close to making me feel worth something. A graduate for less than a week, and this is where I'm already heading it just feels like I'm losing part of my soul, the important part, the bit that generates my happiness.
Part of me wants to curl into a ball inside my blanket with torch and book. Part of me wants anything, anything at all to give me a chance and help contribute towards my future. Part of me is thinking that child I'm trying to save in my dreams, who I can never quite reach, who I can't protect, is actually me.

Typical day

Every weekday morning I wake up early, make a cup of tea, check my emails and start my job searches. Some days go by when absolutely nothing has come up and other days I find several positions to apply for. I alternate my days between finding jobs to apply to and then researching those companies and roles, writing new cover letters and applying. By 11 O'clock I finish that and start work on my book. 

The second half of my day is obviously the more satisfying but at least I know myself that I am putting in equal efforts to both areas of my life. 

7am: get up 

7:10: tea and breakfast 

7:15 computer turned on, check emails 

7:30-11:00 check all jobs in email alerts, 

Sign into all 12 job sites I am registered on 

Search keywords and roles 

Read job descriptions, 

Save relevant jobs 

Start researching each job company and role 

Make notes 

Write suitable cover letters 

Apply for those jobs 

11:00 work on novel 

12:00 eat

2:00 buy groceries for dinner 

5:00 bathe, sort out outfit 

6:00 go to boyfriends, cook dinner, or hand groceries over and ask for dinner to be cooked

7:00 you know, couple stuff. Chill. 

Spare time: work on novel, or draw illustrations

                   Visit the family 

I live for the weekends with my mr Jones when I'm out of those four walls for the entire weekend but like I said before without a full time job I am in a waiting room, waiting for someone to read my ticket number and say my life is ready to start. 

Various apologises

I found it amazing that after an angry charged ambiguous blog post I had several people message me with apologises for various things and all of them believing the post was about them in particular when it was actually about a group of people all for various reasons. I am not one to overlook the bravery of an apology though and for the several individuals out there who took the time to contact me with an explanation/apology I thank you and accept and continue to offer my friendship out to you. 

Calm

I'm so bloody upset right now, and I have given way to those damn waterworks that I despise and then reigned them in. So now I am furious with myself for breaking down. I hate breaking down. Almost as much as I hate those four walls. I'm upset with life and the people in it. Too many judgemental words from too many people who don't know me or what I have put up with over the years. One too many, simple as that. I have one of those tempers that burns and burns until one final thing pushes me over the limit and I explode quick and furious and then it dies down after half an hour or so. I'm like my dad I guess. I have a temper that threatens to throttle anything in its path. I found a way around shouting and breaking things though: I write diary entries, I just happen to make them available to the world.
Some of you reading this may well be part of the group that's set my temper a light today, there are several of you who have contributed to my breakdown and only one of you who has apologised. Which I accept happily. The others of you who remain silent and I suppose ignorant to the fury you ignited I have little time for anymore. I have said goodbye to some very dear friends who pushed me too far, this evening marked the final straw. I bet two of you will read this, but will you realise I refer to you? You have pushed me away when once I told you my deepest secrets. I will blog my goodbyes to you and if you stumble upon them I hope you know it was your fault and not mine because I tried, with one girl particularly I tried very, very hard to keep you but you weren't interested in maintaining our friendship. I was disposable to you. Now I have had enough. I have exploded, I have calmed, and I have a clear head when I realise some friendships I used to cherish are well and truly over.

Bottom of well

There are few things that pick me back up when I'm right at the bottom of a well.

The girls: dancing and singing with them, just being around the same house as them.
Talking to one of my best friends: Pidgin, Chrissie, Stacey, Brett.
Writing my book or just talking about my book to someone.

I am such a little person, living a little life, and I have very little to work with. I don't pretend anything on here is worth anything really. I put my thoughts on here in whatever mess they were in while in my head. I don't try to be clever or creative and I don't really edit so I make errors. All my effort, heart and soul goes into my books. My novels actually mean something to me because they are all I've ever felt like I have. All my life I've had stories to tell and that is it.

I've spent my life telling myself that I will not end up like those shadows in the four walls. I've promised myself I will become better than the life I was born into. My novels were the key, as far as I'm concerned they are the only thing that can rescue me. My novels are my knight in shining armour.

Graduation

4th September 2014

When I left school at sixteen I had this daydream playing out in my head of myself in so many years walking through Victoria Square awaiting my graduation. The dream was always a perfect day, crisp but sunny in my favourite month: September. I would be carrying a satchel bag, wearing a beret and look and feel every inch 'The Student'.

It's that little dream that kept me going at certain times of uncertainty and now that day has arrived. The weather is very accurate.
I have with me my satchel bag curtsey of Pidgin.
No beret because the blue sky dictates that it is unnecessary. Even the fountains are on, a tank is filling one just now, it's a beautiful day.

Yet I don't feel every inch the sophisticated graduate. I feel unemployed. In a charity shop skirt with scuffed shoes. I don't want this ceremony bullshit. I would rather stay here on these steps, hearing the water from the fountain, feeling the sun on the back of my neck while I write in this notebook. My scribble of thought will eventually turn into the structure of my new novel and I will be at peace, writing the stories that might one day prove me to be more than I am right now. Right now I don't feel like the world is my oyster, I don't feel young with everything ahead. I feel poor and wretched.
Stupid dreams...They never work out the way you think they will.
I waited for this day for five years and it was a complete and utter let down.

Trying my best

I'm furiously angry right now but its all contained extremely well I think. Inside I'm half struggling not to cry, half struggling not to lose my temper and break something. All I can do to vent this emotion right now is what I am doing: blogging. So I say on here instead of out loud: FUCK OFF!
I can't believe I didn't just say it when I wanted to, a part of me wishes I'd just told you to fucking mind your own damn business you TWAT and stay out of my life. Like I need your unwelcome opinion and the extra pressure it's putting on my shoulders. I am so annoyed. I'm really upset ok, I'm really genuinely close to tears and I can't show that right now. I have a carpet to clean, I have a brave face to put on.

How dare you judge me.
I'm trying my best.