Rant Arrears

Disclaimer/Warning:

This is a RANT (meaning, I was angry when I began writing this, and I may say things which aren’t always 100% reflective of my more ‘professional’ character so to speak, and I must add now that I have no harmful intentions, by writing about matters which I feel need to be said, at least once. To someone, somewhere.

 

The above now being clarified, I will share with you what I wrote in September of 2017, earlier this year, in a very frustrated, hopeless and questioning time in my life.

Shall I begin…?

Never work for the NHS. It is a National Health NIGHTMARE, I am telling you now! It is so sad to have to say it, but never in my life, could I have even imagined how let down, broken, and fucked around I could possibly be. I knew it was bad, because many of my friends happen to be nurses. It really is the management, the lack of funding, direction, consistency and/or communication, which really fucks the whole thing right up.

Since I started working there, my life has fallen apart. I wish I could say otherwise, I truly do, but I can’t keep silent about this beast within the hive of that machine anymore. To stay silent, makes me want to rot to my core, and I’m pretty sure that mentally I have already done that. The Cancer patients we treated, they are already suffering the physical pain of rotting at the core, for themselves. It’s shit, and I hate that it is shit, but I cannot deny what I have seen.

Raped by a Staff Nurse. For F#%*’s Sake. Everyone is all so happy to be very hush hush and ‘I’m not allowed to comment on that’, about what ended up happening, and you know what? That isn’t alright, it really isn’t. I know you all want to save your own careers, and no one dares say a single thing out of line now, because look at the god damn example they have made out of me!

I genuinely accept, that this ‘may come across as a feeling’, and that ‘it really isn’t anything personal, it’s just the policy we have to follow’– I am telling you now, fuck, that shit. I ‘blew the whistle’ on your ward manager’s bad practice, the bullying, the belittling, the absolute SAND CASTLE.

That’s literally is all that is there- a perfect metaphor for the dead; a castle’s worth of absolute sand! A Hallam Shire, Actual Shire, of sand. Dusty and dead, with ground bones to be fed.

 

 

 

 


26/11/2017

Sunday night update to the above ‘rant’, having now had a little bit more time to reflect, sleep, and try rebuilding life (admittedly, not straight forward)

I hate being offline, and apparently unable to save this writing, and/or even publish it on my blog, to get it off my chest and talk about! I cannot connect to the internet in this temporary flat, even via trying to set myself up via mobile ‘personal hotspots’, just to try and enable this bloody laptop to connect to the network provider. Argh! It is heavily frustrating to say the least.

Who knows if anyone will ever bother to read this, anyway, or be interested in it, for that matter? For all I know, I could just be sat here, typing away (angrily) to myself, with no one who has the time, energy, concentration (perhaps?), or spare time, quite frankly, to find a moment to slow down other thoughts, and ‘listen’ to mine, through what I write.

I guess my point is, that I don’t know for sure if anyone ever will read this, or find anything I have to say or think, or do, dance, sing, pray or whatever, even remotely interesting…

Yet, even if no-body ever does take anything meaningful from words I feel like I need to share, then at least in my own mind, I can rest slightly assured that the words were said in some way, and not just lost.

Flickered onto some horizon, ‘fragile thoughts’, which can of course be forgotten, or unspoken, unheard, pushed away and silenced. I find the idea of this ‘muffling out’ of human intellect, experience, intelligence and travelling through life together, quite excruciating, if I’m honest.

 

The countless thoughts, ideas, spirited and genius discoveries which could have, and maybe one day still do have the potential to ‘save the World’, or at least to protect life, and sustain it, to grow as a species which works WITH nature, rather than against it, and recognises the fact that yes, HELLO- humans are indeed intelligent, so why not start putting our heads together in a way which helps to FIX some of the problems and obstacles we face today in our interconnected, diverse, but essentially so very organic, lives, rather than constantly working against one another?

I am so very sick and tired of social isolation, and the feeling (unless it’s just me?) that nobody has anything they want to just say to each other anymore.

Like, the person sitting next to you on a bus, for example. Or walking down the street. Living in the flat below or above you in the tower block, or living beside you in your house or bungalow, shed, ship, tent or sleeping bag, castle or cave. The point I am making is that yes, we all like to nest in habitats as humans, and set up a little shelter, to call ‘our own’. It makes sense to do this for our very survival against the elements of nature, as we battle and continue to champion through the seasons as ‘victors’, due to the fact we are ‘the living’ and not the so called ‘dead’.

Fine, I totally understand that we like to protect what we as individuals, feel like we ‘own’, if that makes any sense whatsoever.


Dear World,

I want to write, and I want to write to you all, and speak to you all, hear all of your voices, and listen to what you have to say.

I just do not even know where to go to find out how I can best utilize this apparent ‘skill’ of mine. You try going to the so called ‘Job Centre’, and I’m telling you now, it is an absolute HOAX! There are no ‘jobs’ in the ‘centre’, of this City of Sheffield, so it seems sadly, to me.

You have to own, and I mean, actually have in your hand, a telephone, to phone someone in a call centre to try and bargain for an appointment to get some kind of ‘job seekers allowance’ money, towards helping you finance the cost of finding your own job in the first place!

How ridiculous a system is this!? I beg of the younger generations, and people, all people who live together, on whichever continent we happen to inhabit together, please can we just take a step back, have a ‘breather’ or a ‘fag break’, whatever it is we need to do, to just wake the fuck up and recognise, that we are here, and we exist, great.

We also share a planet with many other diverse and beautiful creatures and organisms, so have we all taken one moment to pause and reflect on that amazing, magnificent little fact, too?

 

Have you looked yet? Can you picture the Butterfly wings which I am imagining in my mind, or the lush green, softly waving stems which branch off from so many of our Trees and plants? The sky too, by the way, in case we have all forgotten, is rather impressive, and massive.

There’s my attempt at giving something an understatement for you- the Universe, is, by definition, absolutely frigging HUGE, COLOSSAL, GINORMOUS and quite frankly, but very much to the delight of our own hungry brains, it is incomprehensible. Unfathomable even.

Why have humans written so many stories, plays, books, religious scripts, and articles, do you imagine? It is because we were all so originally ‘flabbergasted’ (if that’s the right word to use here) by the very spectacle of life itself, and the bewildering wonder of the sky and all its stars, that we had to talk to each other to communicate, to experiment and observe, to learn and to come to understand, in the very first place, how we had even come to have found ourselves here, alive, breathing, dependent upon this body, and all the Earth’s resources needed to feed it so that it can function, to eat, reproduce, stay alive, and then ask yet more questions!
Of course, I have to add, we must also dance and sing, and drink fermented fruits of the trees and shrubs surrounding us (wine and beer, as I have come to understand it?), because we are so curious and interactive, in the first place. We have senses, actual senses like taste, touch, smell, sight, and hearing (Hearing is probably my own personal favourite here, I might add) with which to put to good use, and in any case, at least brew good tea, beer or wine, together.

moving on statement


Polite note:

I feel a bit better now I have got some of those things ‘off of my chest’. Writing, and reflecting in doing so, can be so helpful for one’s own mental health, and sense of self, direction, purpose, etc. Just thought this might be worth adding 😉

Seven years ago

“Your mind can smash, but your heart won’t stop beating: I am I am I am.”

I stumbled upon this random ‘note to self’, which i’d written seven years ago today. I must have felt like some kind of possessed spirit of Sylvia Plath, or something. Granted, a far less talented version.

But those words: 

“I am I am I am”.

They reminded me of how I used to genuinely frighten myself, by pouring over the poetry of Sylvia Plath, while thinking to myself: Shit. Why is it so easy to relate to this?

This is one of the many reasons I love language, I love words, and I love the lyric which can become of them. The brain strikes in tune with the impulsive heart, mind over matter, words and Biology.

Consciousness is a strange thing!


 

Lonely Saturday

It’s been a while since I have been able to write on my blog. I’m going to have to give an honest account of this. My ‘spark’ has been snuffed out, over this last year. Particularly over the past three months.

I feel alone. It’s quite sad, and scary to admit this. I feel as though I have isolated myself, far too much.

I love my friends and my family. Of course, i’d like to imagine they love me right back! I just feel sorry that if my own sadness, and mental health ailment- for wont of a better word- has affected and hurt others. Because it must be really, really damn hard, to try and get one’s head around the fact, that I have found myself on occasions, feeling so low, helpless and burdensome to all those around me, that I felt I needed to end my own life, just to put a stop to all the misery, the upset, and the ‘chaos’ I felt I was inflicting on other people.

Just by being me.
Myself.

Ellie.

I feel like a wreck of my former self.  I used to like living. I mean, for GOD’S SAKE!

image

How bad to myself can I even get?

I seem to be intent on punishing myself  for the hurt people have caused me, and for the hurt …

 

See now i’m thinking.

I am beginning to recognize that by hurting myself,

by putting myself in situations where I am vulnerable,

I only fulfill a kind of predetermined  death certificate, for which, I sometimes forget my own reason to live.

This will sound ‘crazy’ to my readers, i’m imagining. Of course it is completely ridiculous, in terms of logic and common sense, ‘survival of the fittest’ (and all that jazz), but for me, I can confidently suspect that I am not alone in this.

I cannot be alone in all of this turmoil.

In SUM:
I WILL SURVIVE.

I WILL

I WILL

I WILL.

windowsill sunflower

Just like the seed, which perseveres beneath that soil, to eventually sprout and bloom into growth, of a new life, and a new Sunflower (in this particular case of the above seedling photo, anyway!).

Spinning in Spiral

spinningspirals

Spinning in Spiral…

I creep into a tangle

Mildly plucked,

I’ve spun forsooth, a silvered web

Draped in need,

Dressed in lust, and endeavour

Sparkling eyes.

 

Look how she tries, endlessly tries

Let’s douse oneself,

Submerge ourselves

In dancing, we’re disguised from

Expectation’s hollow cries

 

I once hopped here, swirled in spiral

Trickled like a breeze

Upon an Autumn leaf

Where I joined in a dance

Red, yellow, Amber

Swivelling in splendour

Where here we lived within the spirit

Spurred on by the moment

A gust of sweet wind

Broke the grip of our comforts,

To free us, as we danced our way

Into the ground. Slumberbound.

 

We’ll still rise once again,

Like geometric, spiral soup

Nature sets our rhythm, and conducts our pulse

Nothing lasts forever,

Yet somehow the new sing, still

In a musical order, carried on

By the past and the older, time spent

Still timeless.


Written by Ellie Neves

image


 

The truth about the lost car keys, dawns upon me…

The truth about the lost car keys, dawns upon me…In the flowerbed I was trying to uproot a stubborn Dandelion in, back in about June this year. I didn’t have a trowel to hand at the time, and obviously thought I’d improvise… and this is probably why I’ve not seen my car keys since around June!

Note to self- think it through, and next time, take a garden basket for actual garden tools (excluding self).


 

Witchcraft

Hung Witch

 

The Haunt

Which hangs,

In the air

Like static, unspent.

Is the fear of time, and purpose wasted.

Everyday which goes by,
 (Bye, bye)

Without a routine,
(With, or without?)

It can scratch against my ‘ground’

Like a big fat Bat (or a rat)

Round  bound   (hush hush, why why!?)
Hard sweeping brush.

It’s etching away at the trail which I’d marked myself, in the vain hope I could ever, if needed, turn to the tattooed ground.
(What, and be found?)

To remind myself of the way I am headed, and the way I have come.

The path upon which, I thought I had gained some footing, it’s fading.
(and i’m not far behind)

It is during these moments, when locked inside,

A tightly binding labyrinth,

Of excessive reflection, that I long for the traveller’s Compass, to remind me of…

Which direction to take? In order, to step forwards and march on!

 

Sometimes, the colours on life’s map become faded.

texture-2115747_960_720


 

Put your hands back in the Earth

If you want to re-connect with your roots, re-acquaint yourself with nature, and generally remind yourself about what it means to live, to be human (and therefore crafty, inquisitive, ambitious), then I strongly recommend you take some time to just have a little dig.

Uproot some Dandelions, or a bit of your lawn. Expose the soil, and take in the roots. Stick your hand into the soil, gather some of it in your hands. Give it a squeeze, and crumble it between your fingers, allowing it to gently sprinkle back down into the ground.

Take in the smell of the Earth, the texture, the colour, the weight. It’s almost like feeling Earth’s pulse. Nurse the Earth, and in turn you will find, it nurses you right back.

image

Upturned soil reveals:

Rooted beneath the Earth’s ‘skin’, are the fibrous, nerve like ‘wirings’, which give rise to the flowers we see, sprouting deliciously, above the surface.
They are remarkably similar to the Synapses, which are our human brain’s own ‘system of shoots & roots’, if you like.
These fire and receive the neurotransmitters, which power our emotions, thoughts, memories, actions and reactions. You can certainly liken the roots under our own skull, to the ‘flowers’, of thought and of volition.

We are the Earth.


 

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