tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37001727424453983112024-03-13T22:39:37.547-07:00Choice was an extravaganceJames Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-23396317126844308592012-02-08T15:57:00.000-08:002012-02-08T15:57:40.411-08:00Poetry Collection Coming & 2011 Round-UpSo I have been unforgivably abysmal at updating, or even writing, anything these passed few months. I do hope you forgive me- if you have even noticed, that is. I have been devoting all of my time to my job at Tropical Sky where I have received two promotions since joining the company in September. Since then I have been to the Maldives and am now gearing up for a trip to Dubai! It's all very exciting, plus I am now also Co-Chief Copy Writer so I am actually writing for a living. Hooray! I honestly wasn't sure I would see the day.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.ghostheartstudios.com/g3/images/sleepytown_float.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://www.ghostheartstudios.com/g3/images/sleepytown_float.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Great news! I am currently working on a very special project with a good friend of mine, Darren Fletcher, who is an incredible illustrator (see above for an example). We have compiled a selection of poetry from the past four years and will soon be publishing the collection alongside some of his superb illustrations. I am very excited! More news will follow soon. For more information on Darren, please take a look at his website <a href="http://www.ghostheartstudios.com/" target="_blank">Ghost Heart Studios</a>.<br />
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As it's been three months since my last update, there is much to tell; my summery of 2011, my plan for 2012, my final most listened to music of 2011, a travel piece about my trip to the Maldives. If I write all these things here, then I *have* to do them. I do want to, it's just finding the time. From 5th March I shall be living in my shiny new apartment so hopefully I will find the space far more creative than my current living situation (in a room as small as a shoe box in my Dad's house).<br />
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Firstly then, let us begin with 2011- the year that has defined where I am now. Of course, most importantly I graduated from Kingston University with a 2:1 degree in Creative Writing with English Literature. I have wanted to write since I was 16, when I found that I could express myself far clearer through words typed or written than any other way. Taking the jump in quitting my job at 23 and moving to Kingston was a scary and life-saving move. I can't help but imagine that I would still be working in retail, going from job to job, being unfulfilled, earning shit money and being made redundant every few months as our high streets appear to be dying. The thing I loved the most about my University life was the learning- which may seem screamingly obvious to some, but may well be completely lost on others (as I'm sure it is with most that attend Kingston). I truly feel a more complete person. I was thirsty for knowledge and was sick of being bored. All I wanted was to learn and expand myself and move on with my life. Job done.<br />
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On top of my degree, I met some very memorable characters, some of whom I hope to remain friends with for the rest of my life. I learned how to live with people and found the freedom of being responsible for myself and myself alone completely liberating. Without University it is questionable how long I would have waited to take the same jump in terms of living arrangements. To be blunt, before Uni I was a pussy; I didn't take risks and I was totally bored.<br />
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So yeah, the boy that dropped out of college twice and with average GCSE's was 0.7% from getting a first for one of the top Creative Writing courses in the country. Not too shabby. Following University, I opted to move to Hull. There were two options- live with my Mum for a year in Hull or live with my Dad in East Grinstead. I thought Hull would be a challenge- interesting and new. It didn't work out and after the longest ten weeks of my life I got the train 250 miles south, turning up at my Dads with just a suitcase and my lap top. The bed I slept in that night in August 2011 is the same bed that I am sat in as I write this. Turns out sometimes you just belong somewhere. For me, I have no shame in loving the South East- it just makes sense to me. The North is literally another world- and not one I particularly care for. Within six weeks of residing in my hometown, I was employed and it has been non-stop ever since.<br />
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Christmas 2011 was the best Christmas in memory. I spent two days entirely with friends, where I received the warmest welcomes and unparalleled hospitality. New Years followed in a similar vain, with a small group of us sat in a circle sharing our best and worst moments of the year just passed. The idea is that you share your worst thing about the year and are thankful that the year is over and also your best and say you will remember 2011 for that best thing. Nothing like a bit of reflection on New Years Eve!James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0East Grinstead, West Sussex, UK51.128742 -0.01446799999996528651.092599 -0.058547499999965287 51.164885000000005 0.029611500000034714tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-87379958163213812792011-11-28T03:38:00.000-08:002011-11-28T03:38:53.443-08:00That really pisses me offSo I've been ill in bed with a stomach bug and flu for three days now so I am feeling a little... frustrated to say the least. It's especially worrying as I am flying to the Maldives on Wednesday so the pressure is really on to get better and fast. I'm sure I will be fine by then... Eek! Anyway, you know over time, as you feel that you get to know yourself better, you understand what you like and don't like more? Well I just thought that I now must have quite a comprehensive list of 'Things that irritate me', so I thought I may as well write them all down. It's just another step on the ladder of 'getting to know me', plus I am bored and thought it might be fun.<br />
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<u>Things that really piss me off/irritate me include:</u><br />
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1. Heavy footedness. Is there any need? You're not a fucking elephant so try treading a little lighter. Thanks.<br />
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2. You have a stomach bug, yet are constantly asked- 'Oh, have you eaten something that hasn't agreed with you?' ...NO! I HAVE A BUG!<br />
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3. The Saturdays... what a personality-less, boring group of mediocre girls singing dull as arse songs.<br />
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4. When people can't accept a difference of opinion and they feel the need to argue with you that your view is WRONG. We are allowed to disagree. Get a grip.<br />
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5. Defensiveness when it really isn't needed. A sign of a good friendship is being able to disagree and share different points of view. You should be able to criticise each other and bring up absolutely anything- like if I owe you a tenner, remind me I owe you a tenner. If that top looks shit on you and you ask, I will tell you.<br />
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6. Being asked if I want children. Replying 'Oh God no, I could never be a parent, I'm not big on children.' and getting the response 'But there are ways you can have kids now, aren't there?' Did you not hear me?<br />
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7. People that don't like Kylie Minogue. I just don't get it.<br />
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8. Wheat irritates the fuck out of me. Quite literally. My insides go into meltdown.<br />
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9. Being the only single at a party. Really guys? If you're inviting me to a party of 14 other people and they are all with their other halves, do you not think you should mention this to me? At least then I could prepare and invite a friend along. I am worryingly becoming Bridget Jones.<br />
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10. People with straight hair. Bastards.<br />
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11. Sookie Stackhouse's narration in the True Blood books. I'm sorry, I love the show and want to read all of the books, but by the second book, I felt like burning the lot. 'There was something I had to do. Part of me stood back in amazement at my own stupidity as I pulled on some shorts and a T-shirt and slid my feet into sandals. I looked even worse in the mirror, to which I gave only a sideways glance. I stood with my back to it to brush my hair.' Charlaine Harris writes at the opening of Chapter Seven. Don't get me wrong, you can't fault the detail, and the stories are brilliant, but reading them ALL from Sookie's point of view who feels the need to tell you every tiny little laborious detail about getting dressed every few pages is mind-numbing and about as gripping as a lake of ice.<br />
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12. When people make up bullshit excuses to get out of things. Just be honest. If you don't fancy doing something, you are allowed to say 'Actually I really don't feel like it anymore, sorry', not say 'Oh shit hun, I didn't realise but I've got no money left and I'm not feeling well and I forgot that I was meant to blah blah blah.' Why lie??<br />
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13. And on that note- bullshitters. I can not count the amount of times that I have had to listen to people blatantly massively exaggerating and bullshitting their way through a story. I don't know who they are trying to impress. And it's so obvious they are bullshitting too. Weird.<br />
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14. When people mock you for liking certain bands/music/tv etc. What are we? At first school? Really?<br />
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15. Critical comments that are quite tactless when they are not asked for. I used to work with someone who would actually say 'Oh James, you've put on weight, haven't you?' and 'Nope, sorry, I don't like the new hair colour'. Fucking bitch. There was no polite way to say 'Well, I actually think you look like a fucking moose and couldn't give two shits what your opinion is' unfortunately.<br />
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16. Men that say they have 'Man-Flu'. Do they not understand that man-flu is not an actual illness but is used to describe a man making out that he is really ill when he has a simple cold? I hear so many guys so 'I've got man-flu' and they are being deadly serious. Uneducated knobs.<br />
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17. 'You need to drive'. Well actually I don't. I'm in the twenty-seventh year on this earth and so far I have coped just fine without being a driver. I don't have kids and always live within walking distance of town and a train station. Driving is so ludicrously expensive and lazy.<br />
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18. Louis Walsh being the only original X Factor judge. He is so wet, clueless and never says anything of any interest. Why Simon Cowell renews his contract over and over again, I have no idea. I miss Dannii, Cheryl, Sharon and even Simon.<br />
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19. 'You'll find someone when you least expect it and aren't looking for anyone.' I have been single for eight years. Do you think I have been expecting to find someone that entire time or looking? No. I'd say I've spent about seven of those eight years quite accepting of my singledom. The biggest pile of bullshit thing to say to someone that says their single. Maybe I won't find anyone, ever! You have no fucking idea.<br />
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I think 19 points will do for now. Mainly because I really need the loo. That also annoys me.James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-4055366169495543532011-10-30T10:43:00.000-07:002011-10-30T10:43:54.860-07:00The Year I Found MeSo much can change in a year. In less than twelve months I have encountered several incarnations; from final year university student working on his dissertation in Kingston, to shop worker for less than minimum wage in Hull, to professional travel specialist on good money and getting to travel the world, while spending my weeks working away in a casual office environment in Sussex. And from non-smoking, gym addicted cyclist to chain smoking heavy drinker to serious dieter. Even my eyewear has changed multiple times in 2011.<br />
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The last time it was dark by 1730 on a Sunday afternoon I was living with Chloe in a large old Victorian flat in KT1. Now I am sitting here at my Dad's house in my hometown with the 'King's Speech' mumbling away in the background and I have to say, I think without the Hull episode earlier this summer, there is no way that I would have been content with sitting here right now. So yes, 2011 has been quite a roller-coaster of a year so far, but has certainly lead to me knowing myself better than ever. I understand better what drives me and makes me happy, what saddens and upsets me, where I like to be, who I like to be around, how much of myself to present in different situations and when people and places are and are not worth my time.<br />
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Now with graduation looming just around the corner, I can mark this period with a suitable and formal celebratory ending and beginning. Farewell to my life as an uneducated and troubled youngster and hello to James, an adult who knows exactly who he is and hasn't done too badly for himself at all.James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-54778722385007455722011-10-18T08:51:00.000-07:002011-10-18T08:51:13.755-07:00Student lifestyle VS Full time work lifestyle<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> <w:UseFELayout/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I feel utterly deflated. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I started my new job as a Travel Consultant about a month ago and I am happy to report that it is going very well. The people I work with are great, the office and hours are cool, the work is interesting and I am learning more everyday. So all in all- horah! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Work is good and I feel so completely at home and comfortable being based back in East Grinstead, so what is puncturing me and making the air seep out? Could it be that I’ve been not been writing so much or going to the gym as much as I used to? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am finding myself longing to visit Knights Park Student Union all the time. I am really missing the student lifestyle I had in Kingston- even down to my routine of cycling everywhere and hitting the gym regularly. It’s just not as easy to do it here. I miss my bike more than anything I think. Perhaps I should invest in a new one when I get paid next week. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The people around me in EG are brilliant, but naturally I miss all of the good friends I made in Kingston. The trouble is, only a few of them are left there now. Most people have had to go back home after Uni or moved away from Kingston so popping back (which is only an hour away) can actually leave you feeling more hollow than before. I genuinely miss my lectures and having fascinating and difficult literature to read and write about, as well as the spontaneous afternoons and evenings of drinking cocktails. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Perhaps I’m just struggling with change- although usually I pride myself on loving and even needing change. Like I said to Ben the other day though- if I was offered a temporary job abroad now, I would probably turn it down. I think I am longing to settle down and get some sort of routine back. Thankfully, I can see that in my not so distant future. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hopefully Graduation on 1<sup>st</sup> November will satisfy my student lifestyle longing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bring it on.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-7562156702131664722011-10-18T08:08:00.000-07:002011-10-18T08:08:50.783-07:00Remember the Sky<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> <w:UseFELayout/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">by James Christopher Sheppard</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With rushing and frantically trying to create <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">anything<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">worth creating,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that would stand up and bow to the admirers and students<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and band wagon jumpers, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">it can reach the point of saturation<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of having to stop through fear of burning out<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or more realistically of failing to create <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">anything worth creating <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">for any eye to take the effort to<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">engage with brain and remember. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I did look around<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and noticed the sky<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but not before realising I was stumbling off the trail, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">off of the rubble and down a ditch<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">where trees stood tall and no man could prevail. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I took it all in,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the warnings and signs and noticed <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that it couldn’t matter <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">if I created something worth creating <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">for eyes and brains to engage or not,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">so long as I saw the sky and wasn’t afraid to look up<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and risk falling down the ditch<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">filled with nameless men before me<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that saw the sky just I have.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-66045967226989705112011-09-13T06:26:00.000-07:002011-09-13T06:26:10.013-07:00Sore Throat<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian> 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</style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <b>James Christopher Sheppard</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m so sick of talking<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of writing and verbalising <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">screaming and shouting<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">just to explain myself to you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want to take pictures <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and draw and paint <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">put together collages of images <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to fill my empty days.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Brain disengaged in a way<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but awakened to<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">sounds and sights that fill with delight<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the space that once was words.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want to want <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to study and live and love and learn<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and I do<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">yet I don’t hold the reigns tight enough.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want to learn to relax<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and to dance when asked<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and to stand at the bar with confidence<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and to not feel awkward as I walk through the room. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So it turns out I should have chosen a different path<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or perhaps stuck to the original,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but I am not one to pick and stick<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">if not completely convinced.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m so sick of waiting <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">for something to grab me<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and throw me onto the conveyer belt of dreams<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and for life to finally begin.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">------------------------------</span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It had been quite sometime since my last update, yet when I tried, all I could put together was this. So yes, in a nutshell, feeling like my degree is pretty much worthless in the sense of getting a decent job in the now as a writer. I keep looking at fellow Kingston University students online portfolios and archives and am blown away. The students that seem to be getting somewhere are the journalism students. Us creative writers alone, don't seem to be half as up on what they are up on. I'm now thinking I should have studied Creative Writing and Journalism instead of English Literature, but we can't change that now. I did love my course, I just hadn't given much thought to the technicalities of employment afterwards. Of course I can chase the freelancer dream, but as we were told in class, you have to have a day job for several years before you can have any hope of living off what you make as a freelance writer. </span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even as a freelance writer, I am barely trained, compared to the journalism students. Their sites are professional and concise, where mine is amateurish. I feel disengaged with writing about myself and what's happening in my life at the moment as I am pretty deflated by it all. As the poem depicts, I am sick of words and trying to piece things together. What I want is to just feel free, and even though I am, I don't posses the ability to embrace that. I don't know, I wrote a poem because it's hard to explain. </span></div><!--EndFragment-->James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-47464890889543024712011-08-12T08:02:00.000-07:002011-08-12T08:02:07.233-07:00This is HomeIt's been four days since I arrived back in my hometown- the small West Sussex town of East Grinstead. Of course, people are always sharing their unwanted opinions- 'but you spent all that money moving all your stuff up to Hull' and 'you should have known this would happen', but ultimately we are in control of our own lives and their direction, so no-one needs to worry about what I'm doing and why.<br />
<br />
Over the past four days I have spent every day catching up with friends and remembering my place in the world. These are the people that made me. These are the people that shaped me and have never judged. These people are my family- the one I have created for myself. Life without the people you hold dearest is a lot harder than I ever thought it could be. And it doesn't mean you don't care deeply for the people you have left elsewhere, but you need to be around the people that are driven by what you are driven by, enjoy what you enjoy and share a similar attitude for life. It is those shared values that lead to a happy existence- or at least that is what I have learned.<br />
<br />
Beyond the people, it is also such a relief to feel happy and confident about leaving the house. The view out of my window right now is green- with hoards of trees and hills and fields. The walk home is down a dirt track, surrounded by woodland and nature- it feels so sacred and unexplored, like nothing a city can offer. The town is brimming with pubs and local restaurants, which by 27, is more than adequate to satisfy my social needs. What I spent so long trying to get away from when I was in my late teens and early twenties, is exactly what I have run back to now that I have experienced city life. London is an hour away and I am ok with that.James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-45423506569935603562011-08-06T09:56:00.000-07:002011-08-06T10:01:01.949-07:00Call me what you want, I love the south.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.humber.com/images/gallery/hull-shot12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="http://www.humber.com/images/gallery/hull-shot12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's important to consider what we learn as we endure difficult times. My experience in Hull has been largely disastrous. I found that the city had very little opportunity and that living in such a congested deprived place had massive implications on my mental stability. But the whole episode has taught me some very important things.</span><br />
<br />
<ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can honestly say, with total confidence, that I know myself better than ever. Being taken out of my comfort zone of the south made me sit up and accept who I am. I'm a southern boy, someone that is used to living in or right next to London, and I have trouble being in less accepting or multicultural surroundings. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A break from being in London was definitely needed so that I could appreciate everything the capital has to offer.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My friends are the most important thing in my life. Being two hundred miles from all of the people I consider close friends was the most challenging and upsetting thing of all. I am a single and independent man, but my friends are everything to me. I didn't realise just how much so until now. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'd rather be broke and in a town I like and near my friends, than in a place I can't stand and be sorting out my finances.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Life is too short to be sensible if it comes at the cost of your own happiness.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do not feel guilty about your choices. It is your life and will effect you more than anyone else. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you are unhappy and you need to change something, do it. I cannot stand it when people do nothing but complain, but never do anything to resolve their problems. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a very short fuse with people in my own home. When I am at home I like to switch off. I don't take kindly to having my personal time or space invaded. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm actually a pretty sociable person, but only around certain people. I am not one you can take out and can be the guaranteed soul of the party. It is very dependent on the people I am mixing with and the place. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I would rather live in the middle of central London and risk being in a high risk terrorism area than be bored to death in Hull. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I seriously dislike the North East of England and Hull in general.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'd rather live in a tiny room with virtually no possessions in London, than have a large room full of belongings in the north. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People from Hull are so different to those from London that you could literally be in a foreign country. The culture is stuck somewhere in the 1990s. There's a lot of chavs and a lot of indie kids. And that's about it.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Racism and homophobia appear to be more accepted in Hull than anywhere else I've been. As in people make racist comments and expect you to agree with them. It is appalling. </span></li>
</ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I shan't go on as I can feel myself ranting on and on about how uneducated and grim people are in Hull and I'm sure I've already got my point across. Ultimately, I appreciate what I have in the south more than ever and I am itching to get back and make the most of it. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dirtygarnet.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/The-City-of-London-skyline.-A-long-standing-workers-epicentre-paradise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.dirtygarnet.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/The-City-of-London-skyline.-A-long-standing-workers-epicentre-paradise.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span>James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-15605021272173103612011-08-05T07:17:00.001-07:002011-08-05T07:30:22.838-07:00Location, Location, Location<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let me paint you a couple of scenarios. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.rightmove.co.uk/85k/84800/19451085/84800_NED00006143_IMG_00_0000_max_620x414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="http://media.rightmove.co.uk/85k/84800/19451085/84800_NED00006143_IMG_00_0000_max_620x414.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN-US">Scenario One</span></b><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You’ve just reached your street. You finished work at 7pm so it’s already dark. The street is a cul-de-sac, a quiet road just off a main road in Kingston Upon Thames, apparently the safest borough of London. The attractive Victorian town houses are stood closely together, with a yard in front of each one before the pavement. It’s pretty quiet considering the proximity to one of the busiest cities in the world. The tree’s rustle in the slight breeze that’s blowing and the subtle buzz of traffic whispers in the distance. You walk on the pavement on the left of the road, as your house is the last house on the left. As you walk past the other twenty or so houses, you notice warm glows dotted around, inviting strangers in from the windows. You glance into the homely living rooms and wonder what your neighbours do for a living or what kind of life they lead. Are they as content as they look? Every few feet along the pavement is a large tree, standing tall in a protective state, like a bouncer. Orange light glows from the street lamps, which highlights the three cats that are strolling about the quiet street like they own it. Beyond the end of the road is a large park, with a black metal fence around its boundaries. You can see two separate people walking their dogs in the faint light that stretches that far. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Feeling safe and happy to be home, you reach your large black front door. In the darkness of the porch, you feel instinctively for your keys and open the door to the dark hallway. You close the door before turning on the light, stop and sigh. You always take this moment of arriving home to appreciate that this space is yours, and yours alone. On walking down the hall, you remove your jacket and hang it on the coat stand and place your bag and shoes neatly underneath. Your stomach rumbles, as it does everyday at this time, so you enter the large kitchen at the end of the hallway, place your Iphone on your Idock, press play, and investigate the contents of your fridge. Once deciding what to cook, you open the double French doors out onto the back yard to let the fresh air in as you cook. While your food is cooking, you prepare the lounge for your arrival, turning on the TV and getting one of your favourite TV shows cued up on 4od. You draw the curtains, turn on a singular lamp, re-place the cushions on the sofa and light a few candles. By 7.45, dinner is ready and now it’s time for your reward- a few hours to switch off and just be, untouched in your own sacred space.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://s0.geograph.org.uk/geophotos/01/20/13/1201306_2b261b8f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://s0.geograph.org.uk/geophotos/01/20/13/1201306_2b261b8f.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN-US">Scenario Two</span></b><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You alight the bus a five minute walk from your house as it’s the closest you can get. A five minute walk wouldn’t usually bother you, but it’s not the exercise you dislike, but what you have to walk through. You live on the outskirts of the city of Hull, one of the most deprived and financially depressed areas in the United Kingdom. ‘Cheers Drive’ the three people in front of you mumble as they get off the bus. ‘Thanks’ you say with a smile, trying to be polite. It’s 8pm. You finished work at 7, but it takes you an hour to get home as their isn’t an earlier bus. You cross the wide concrete road and make your way through the housing estate, the biggest in Europe. Houses are everywhere and they all look the same; somewhere between the colour of grey and beige, with the same windows spaced the same distance apart. This is not a place for individuality. A house is a house and you’re lucky if you’ve got one. Where lights are switched on inside the houses you pass, curtains are closed. The air is a wash with the sound of children screaming and hollering at one another. ‘It’s kicking off’ one of them shouts at the top of her lungs in her most threatening tone. You can’t see what is apparently kicking off, but you can hear male voices shouting obscenities to each other and womanly screams. These are throat blistering screams too, not just little girl ‘I’ve seen a spider’ screams. You continue to walk down the straight path to your house, with houses and alcoves of more houses surrounding you from every angle. The roads, the paths and the houses all appear to be the same colour, which reflect the street lamps dull ache of a colour. You see a group of youths walking in the same direction as you a few steps ahead, so you slow down, as to not overtake them. They walk slower and slower, to the point that you are going to have to walk around them, but you bottle it, taking a sharp right turn at the last minute. You can still get home via this labyrinth; it’ll just take longer. Thankfully you aren’t followed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eventually you come to your house. It looks like all the others, only every light pours out of every window on the lower level, and two on the first floor. The garden looks vulnerable, protected only by a broken old wooden fence. To the right of your house is a car park and to the front, a public pathway from the local shopping centre. Concrete city. Someone has left the key in the door so you have to knock. Your mother opens the door- ‘Hello!’ she welcomes you. You try to smile, but it convinces no-one. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">‘Hi’ you manage back, but it sounds more like a sigh. You’re immediately in the kitchen diner. To your left is double doors that lead to the lounge. Your adult brother and his girlfriend lay on the sofa watching television and say hello. As you’re replying, one of your mum’s boyfriend’s pre-teen children bounds through the room from upstairs and embarks in a very loud conversation with their Dad, who is sat at the dining room table in front of you playing on his phone. Your Mum has now sat back at the table to join him. Your mum’s boyfriend’s other pre-teen child then comes into the kitchen from the lounge- ‘Hi’ they say. The radio in the kitchen is playing, ignored for the twelfth hour, but still it plays too loudly. You accept there is limited opportunity for any stimulating conversation and so make your way upstairs to sit alone in your room, where you can at least pretend you have your own space and some control. You turn on your lap top for lack of anything else to do and download a TV show to watch. The house doesn’t have a television areal so the internet is the only way to watch things. You can hear the TV playing in the lounge underneath you, you can hear children and adults speaking and getting annoyed with each other, but it dies down eventually as you tune into your own world as best you can. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">SLAM! Your whole body jumps in shock. Hostile shouting and screaming comes from your brother’s bedroom, two rooms away. His girlfriend screams at him, he swears and shouts back. There’s banging, slamming, crying. You do your best to ignore it, but your body has already reacted by shaking. You’re unsettled and uncomfortable, like you were as a child listening to your parents before they divorced. Finally, you decide to try and block it out altogether and put some music on. Within half an hour you get a text message. It’s from your mum- ‘Can you turn it down a bit please? The kids have just gone to bed. x’ The kids of course, sleep in your old bed in the room next to yours. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The following morning, you have to leave the house at 8.15am to get to work on time. Your alarm goes off at 7.30am, you jump up and open your door. The bathroom door is closed and locked. So you sit on your bed and wait. Fifteen minutes later, you hear the door, so you open your door again. No, it’s closed again. Either your mum’s boyfriend, one of his children or your brother’s girlfriend is in there. You, the only person out of these people that actually lives at the house, don’t get a shower and go to work as you are, because you couldn’t get in the bathroom. That evening, if you have to do it all over again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://s0.geograph.org.uk/photos/75/38/753871_11bf39b4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://s0.geograph.org.uk/photos/75/38/753871_11bf39b4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hopefully this helps to clarify just some of the reasons why I find living in Hull so desperately depressing and awful. </span></span></b><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have come from scenario one, into scenario two. I knew it would be difficult, but I didn’t appreciate how much so. So yes, I am moving into a tiny bedroom at my father’s house in my hometown of East Grinstead. I will have very little personal space, but it’s home. I love it how a Hull person loves Hull. I know the people and the places. I have many, many treasured friends there and will have some form of social life back. I have outgrown the ‘let’s go out and get off our tits’ mentality that all Hull people seem to be about. I want conversation, I want art, I want gigs, I want to feel secure taking my macbook to a Starbucks and writing all afternoon. I tried to appreciate Hull for what it has to offer, and I think if you’re in a settled family unit, it really isn’t bad- plus it’s very cheap. But for a single person that is career orientated and treasures friends and intellectual stimulation, Hull is slowly killing me and I’m the first one to always offer the advice- ‘If you don’t like your situation, get out of it’. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-51682218866029301592011-07-31T15:46:00.000-07:002011-07-31T15:52:08.054-07:00The North/South Divide. London Vs Hull.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Written by <b>James Christopher Sheppard</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.laterooms.com/hotelphotos/laterooms/199028/gallery/hallmark-hotel-hull-north-ferriby_060120101024491349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://static.laterooms.com/hotelphotos/laterooms/199028/gallery/hallmark-hotel-hull-north-ferriby_060120101024491349.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Ok, so I am biased. I didn't think I was, but I am. Having spent the vast majority of my first twenty-seven years on planet Earth in either Surrey or London, I expected to revel in the cheap and friendly North. Of course, being a southerner, I call anything north of London the North, but in this case I mean, specifically, Hull in East Riding of Yorkshire- or Humberside, depending on who you ask.<br />
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Prior to actually moving to Hull, I had visited many times as my mother moved here from the little Surrey village of Dormansland in 2007. While it certainly wasn't my first choice of places to reside, however temporary, I thought it was... ok. The city centre is a decent size and has all the British high street shops you'd expect to see. There's cinemas, bowling alleys, arcades, a lot of gambling shops, a marina, gay bars, straight bars, clubs where you can get a vodka and coke for 70p and it even has a river- the thick brown River Humber. There's even a handful of museums and a place called The Deep. Surrounding the city centre is housing estate upon housing estate that seems to be run completely by children. There's one main train station and the main way of travel is by bus. All in all- Hull has pretty much exactly what you'd expect it to have. There are no surprises waiting to be discovered.<br />
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The main problem with Hull, for me as a Londoner, is that while it is a fairly large town, it's probably about the size of Kingston Upon Thames. And there is nothing else within an hour of the city. When I lived in Kingston, I could happily attend university in the daytime, then meet friends in my hometown of East Grinstead for dinner and be back in central London in time to meet other friends for drinks, before grabbing the last train back to Surbiton and getting into bed at 2am. I have worked in retail for years in the South and am pretty good at providing customer care. I've been trained to remain impartial to people, to remain professional and help them to the best of my ability. In Hull they expect you to make conversation with your customer and act like their best friend, while using terms of endearment like 'darling'. I'm sorry, but I have no interest in making small talk beyond the niceties. If I am hassled in a store, I just want to leave.<br />
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People in Hull are friendly, don't get me wrong, but there really is a difference between the northern an southern state of mind. In London, you can happily get the tube without so much as recognising that there are other people in your presence, while there are in fact fifty other people in your immediate space all doing the same thing- ignoring each other. In Hull people actually talk. It drives me crazy. I want to scream 'just leave me alone!'. My point is, I didn't realise just how deeply my southernness was imbedded within me. I am now at a point where I don't mind being called a snob and all the other southern names- I've realised that is just who I am, and boy am I glad.<br />
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Making the transition from London to Hull is no easy feat for a Southern snob like me. If you're considering moving to a cheaper part of the country, really think about it before making the jump. It's cheap for a reason. There are no jobs, virtually no career opportunities- unless you want to work within industry, few things to do and a town that is not equipped to keep you entertained and intellectually stimulated for a prolonged amount of time. Take me back to London, pronto!James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-23797089773166469982011-07-20T15:42:00.000-07:002011-07-26T14:48:49.279-07:00Warning<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><b>Written by James Christopher Sheppard</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">The state is hard to describe,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">not quite an emotion, but a physical reaction concentrated from somewhere </span>inside.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">It swirls around in your middle, tearing through your stomach like a tornado. </span>And it builds,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">growing stronger as it spins.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Your wind pipe reduces in diameter and breath becomes less natural. You have to think about breathing now.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">You breathe slowly and try to regain control. It’s YOUR body.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">And while the tornado may slow,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">your head begins to fill with heavy hazy clouds.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Don’t bottle it up’ you’re told. ‘You’ll feel better’. But it’s all just words.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">The scattering of words leaving my mouth and congealing<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">in a way that brings nothing new. Words swallowed by others and re-spun.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Just for you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Is this when we drink then?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">To deaden our tormented insides?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">To drown the tornado and dispel the clouds?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Or could this be where we use a blade<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">to slice through our skin and<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">let the demons that are trapped within us out?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">This state visits me everyday and I am running down a narrowing blacked out corridor, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">but I am tired.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">I no longer know what I am running towards<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">or why I am running at all. </span></div>James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-24433760753481701422011-07-06T15:04:00.000-07:002011-07-06T15:07:57.034-07:00A letter from HellI know I have to do it for financial reasons, be in Hull for the next year or so, but it doesn't make it any easier. The longer I'm here, the smaller the city feels and the grimier and more foreign the accent grows. I have a job and I should be grateful. In spats I am, but most of the time I am too exhausted from the amount of time I spend there on my feet sell, sell, selling for pretty much minimum wage to even speak to anyone else, let alone go to the gym or have a social life. It's only been a few days, but I have a doomed feeling about my future here in Hull. I am losing the ability to remain positive about living in a house that regularly sleeps six others. I miss my own space so much that I itch for a cigarette, a habit I quit doing on a daily basis over 18 months ago, whenever I allow myself to remember that it has well and truly gone. Being allowed the opportunity to live here so cheaply is a very generous of my Mum and it is good to be nearer family, but I miss my own life. I barely feel alive.James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-49478420085057361502011-06-30T15:49:00.000-07:002011-06-30T15:49:20.508-07:0026 and living in the 'family home'It's quite a unique experience, returning to living with your family in your mid-twenties after living alone or with friends for four years. By all means, it is not all bad- having company right there whenever you want it certainly has it advantages, but equally returning to a house bustling with six other human beings when you're tired, grouchy and just want to relax on the sofa for an evening can be highly irritating. Going from having your own lounge, your own kitchen, your own bathroom at your disposal at all times, to sharing all these facilities with what feels like hoards of other people can be somewhat daunting. Of course, with what we sacrifice comes positives, like less money thrown down the drain on rent and having to get your own sodding TV license.<br />
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The family drama that you remember as a teenager remain, which is probably the most alarming thing of all. Dealing with a super-emotionally-charged teenage brother and his equally dramatic girlfriend for example is quite an experience. Don't get me wrong, their company is often hugely gratifying, but listening to the over-so tense arguments over what they want to watch on tv is... well, it'll have you wanting to sow their mouths shut and sit them in separate corners of the room, I'll tell you that much.<br />
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Then as for experiencing the parents' partners' family around the house as much as your immediate family are there, well that's something, that again, takes time to adjust to. All in all, being around family reminds me what family is about- people being there and accepting you, no matter what. People you can openly express your grumpiness and anti-socialness to, without them thinking anything about it. Equally, however, people that are just forthcoming with you about their bad moods! Haha! I suppose it all ultimately just comes down to adjusting to changes, toughing out the negatives and embracing the positives.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/9531_149730593422_513513422_2717868_3251144_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/9531_149730593422_513513422_2717868_3251144_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(Mum, me and my brother, Patrick in 2005)</div>James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-46702405345930172722011-06-25T05:23:00.000-07:002011-06-25T05:23:35.041-07:00The famous words- 110%<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRFLscjB7C_AXipYk6K0dRpDo6of0O67NjEvIcvMKPl3XkGdrV3VA&t=1" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRFLscjB7C_AXipYk6K0dRpDo6of0O67NjEvIcvMKPl3XkGdrV3VA&t=1" /></a></div>It began, from my memory, with Simon sodding Cowell on shows like the X Factor and Pop Idol. 'If you really want to win this competition, you've got to give it 110%.' Now you watch any TV show, you constantly hear people pipe on about giving 150%, 1000% and 110% of themselves in a challenge. Do they not understand that 100% represents the absolute maximum?? It's just words, yes, but my GOD, I find it mind bogglingly infuriating. People already appear to be getting dimmer, despite the mass availability of information at their fingertips, and this notion of 110% is just plain ridiculous. Someone have a word with Cowell, please.James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-60822506722767894372011-06-16T14:14:00.001-07:002011-06-16T14:14:48.249-07:00Scattered by a Breeze<link href="file://localhost/Users/James/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link> <link href="file://localhost/Users/James/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_themedata.xml" rel="themeData"></link> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Written by James Christopher Sheppard</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Established ’84 <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">scarred into skin.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Southern pride <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">of the poorest people, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">hidden under floorboards <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;"> of Surrey’s suburbia<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">scratched <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">into every fibre and every tell <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 180.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">of my eye. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">No flick of light glistens <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">or reflects the same way, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">for every observer <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">stands differently. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18pt;">The height</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">, t h e d i s t a n c e , <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">the speed of the racing heart, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 9pt;">the size</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;"> of the </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18pt;">engorged erection</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">the price paid for <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">company and irreplaceable time. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">All are relative and change perception<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">of what <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;">remains an unaltered truth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">The inescapable identity can be masked <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">but never denied <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">with clear conscience. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Now here and everywhere <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 180.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">I try to absorb <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">every image and breeze before me<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">but neither make their dent. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">To be free <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">of this body and to be carried through the air, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 180.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">as dust, by a breeze<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">is both destiny and a dream. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 144.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Free from aches and pains and a sore back, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">free from discomfort and suffering.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">To just be Free from your perception and judgment<o:p></o:p></span></div>James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-71027335627021215552011-06-15T15:11:00.000-07:002011-06-15T15:11:06.682-07:00Freckles<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"><b>Written by James Christopher Sheppard</b></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;">Freckles of dust</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">laid around carelessly,<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Flung to their rest<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">by a boy who knew better.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Muffled misery<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">heard only by bricks,<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">They weren’t her fault<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">but were they his?<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Displaced by laws<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">of nature and truth,<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Products of time<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">that stretched sterile.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">But if time could bend<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">would the freckles still lay<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">or would they be kept neatly<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">in a jar, high on the shelf?<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">While carless freckles<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">they may seem, scattered<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">with noisy breathless grief,<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">they are best this way.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">You can never go back<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">though it is your one wish.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">He was hers for a time and<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">he was hers to lose.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">One soul mate<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">is more than most<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">For one day or ten thousand,<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">One man only will be yours.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Now freckles may be scattered<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">seemingly carelessly on the floor,<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">but at least you jumped from the shelf<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">and made a glorified mess.</span></div></div>James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-23375367174083167072011-06-15T14:52:00.000-07:002011-06-15T14:52:15.508-07:00The End is Nigh!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, the catastrophic day of knowing the final grade for my degree is getting nearer. Today I received the fifth and sixth portfolios from my final year back, which only leaves two to go. As it stands I have a good grade and I am really happy with it, but the final two grades could still change all of that so I won't count my chickens just yet. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, University officially finished almost three weeks ago and I am now a resident of the city of Hull- 240 miles north of London. When I first decided to temporarily reside in Hull following the completion of my degree, I thought it would be a real struggle and deeply unpleasant. Now that I have created my tiny but effective studio apartment style room in my Mother's house, I am the most settled I have been in years. I miss the social aspect of Kingston and the ease of getting around by bike, but on the whole, I am relieved to have moved on from London for a while. It's only £20 and two hours on the train away, after all. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I am currently job hunting in the local area, I am still looking at opportunities abroad and am writing for Todd Swift's blogzine, <i>Eyewear,</i> as his music correspondent. I have also just been accepted as an author for Independent Publishing, so I am still chasing my writing career. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hull as a city is not as bad as many may think. I am going to find the positives about Hull over my time here and report them back to you all. One point of interest is that you can buy a house here for little over £20,000. I kid you not. Who knows, I may even buy a house in a few years. Just for storage or something, you know. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I should probably be reflecting on my university experience, but I think it's all still too fresh at the moment to be reflecting properly. I had a life changing four years in Kingston. My mind feels suitably stretched in just about every way and right now I feel like I have more ahead of me than I ever could have done before 2007. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So there we go, a little teeny reflective moment, without getting carried away. I can finally share my poetry portfolio with you, so I will begin right now. As always, please enjoy and give feedback- it's such a rewarding and helpful part of writing. </span><br />
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</span>James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-3019447589282713072011-06-07T18:01:00.000-07:002011-06-07T18:01:32.181-07:00I'm back... and I'm a graduate.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so I can sigh in relief. After finishing my degree at Kingston University and relocating to Hull left me practically brain dead with exhaustion, I am writing again and managing to actually string coherent thoughts together. Expect more entertaining rambles from me shortly. Don't forget I am seeking employment! I will consider just about anything right now. Ideally it will require me to leave the UK...</span>James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-71733368093158191402011-06-07T17:47:00.000-07:002011-06-07T17:47:20.607-07:00The Wind Farm<link href="file://localhost/Users/James/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link> <link href="file://localhost/Users/James/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_themedata.xml" rel="themeData"></link> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Written by James Christopher Sheppard</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Maybe,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">I’m ok being alone?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Hidden away <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">at times like treasure<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">at times like bones <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">crushed <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">and hoarded like a newspaper from the day I was born.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Pointlessly wasting time,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Is this hiding?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">I cannot be seen, heard, felt.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 180.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">My page, however, remains <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 180.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">electronically <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 216.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">for your information.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Powered, perhaps, by the wind farm I saw on my walk today,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Miles off shore, white against dense light gray. Almost invisible. Mostly unnoticed. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 180.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Her face still sits as it did two years ago, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 144.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">next to her name,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 180.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">written largely and proud as if she is announcing herself<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">like the rest of us.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Only the page is now filled with ‘I miss you’s’ <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">and has become the only gateway <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">for us to her<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">As if it has out-lived her<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">As the wind farm will out-live us<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 144.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">and keep our pages of pictures and perceptions there, for all to see,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">regardless <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">of our fleshy bodies<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">and regardless of our distorted realities. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">(<a href="http://onestoppoetry.com/2011/06/one-shot-wednesday-week-49.html">oneshotwednesday</a>)</span></div>James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-13237989725675100372011-04-25T15:46:00.000-07:002011-04-25T15:46:13.807-07:00Queer namesQueer, fag, fudge packer, brown hatter, bender, bent, faggot, ass bandet, shit stabber... are a few of the names I've been called. Even after ten years of being an openly gay man, the same issues crop up- some people don't know where the line is. What is ok to say and what they should keep in their heads. When it comes to all of the names above, no word offends me any more than the other. I find it is all about the context and the tone. If a mate calls me a shit stabber in some banter down the pub, that does not make them a homophobe. If it is a stranger who is aggressively calling me fudge packer and trying to start a fight, of course I will be offended. I'll be offended they are even looking in my general direction. I have little time for anyone that is homophobic, racist, sexist and everything else of that nature. The problem is, however, that people seem to be taking being politically correct to the extreme. I know a great deal of LGBT people that get so easily offended that, if anything, they are only adding to people feeling like they are walking on egg-shells. People need to lighten up and understand there is a context to everything. I for one, find that being deeply and irrationally offended by a word is completely insane.James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-78479946198860472222011-04-25T15:31:00.000-07:002011-04-25T15:31:51.818-07:00Passion and PainI was always going to write about passion when I got to blogging about a word beginning with P, because to me, without passion, you may as well be dead. However, I returned from a trip to Nottingham yesterday with a searing pain in my neck and it is worsening by the hour! My mind, therefore, is firmly on the pain of my neck. Forgive my lack of updates- trips to Nottingham + sunshine + pain + last month of university = an incredibly distracted writer.<br />
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Whether it is for music, a sport, art, astrology, geography, literature, hiking, cooking or putting together life size models of the Titanic using only matchsticks, having a passion for something is vital to the individual. When you take out relationships and other people altogether, it is our individual interests and hobbies that keep us going. To depend solely on other people to make us feel good is a dangerous state of mind, and one I see too often in those around me. <br />
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Some of us will, unfortunately, never find a person to share our lives with. It's sad, but a reality for a lot more of us than I think people are aware of. It's one thing to dwell on being alone, but another to make your whole life miserable because of it. There is so much freedom in being alone. You just need to find that thing that will throw the gas canister on the flame already burning away inside you. It is there- you just need to find what makes it burn brightly. When you discover what drives you and brings out your passion, you may not only find that you are a happier and independent person, but possibly one that draws other people towards you.James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-11028211749848589292011-04-19T06:24:00.000-07:002011-04-19T06:25:51.491-07:00Over-thinkingIs exactly what I have been guilty of, time and time again, about all manner of things. It's usually this over-thought that leads to trouble. Yet, if we do not question and seek to be educated, surely we are wasting our potential? The trick seems to be knowing what to question and how to satisfy your quest for knowledge. <br />
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The over-used universal question of 'Why are we here?' truly baffles me. How, in the 21st century, it is not commonly accepted that we exist due to evolution and the condition of our environment and we are not 'here' for a 'reason', stuns me. And people searching for the 'meaning' of their lives- 'meaning', whatever you determine that to actually propose, is whatever you make it. It is my belief that we have no destiny and that we are no more important in this world that the vermin that lives in the dirt. That doesn't mean that I think that humans have no value, it purely means that I believe there is no truth in religion and that we answer only to ourselves and each other.James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-31717714709003125982011-04-18T05:34:00.000-07:002011-04-18T05:55:49.931-07:00No More!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOIBK2HGobJ11GYVY40Nz-PbuyX9ucTClkMy3NqGcXB1Y15ftmn0NgcnkGm4utrocpNNEiSrRhmvqa1wgFp2mzOTQfwGFRLS-fnEjaPG1zWYHh196nKW4LyI1iQBUp7hqnkLQDkNeL2SU/s1600/chloejam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOIBK2HGobJ11GYVY40Nz-PbuyX9ucTClkMy3NqGcXB1Y15ftmn0NgcnkGm4utrocpNNEiSrRhmvqa1wgFp2mzOTQfwGFRLS-fnEjaPG1zWYHh196nKW4LyI1iQBUp7hqnkLQDkNeL2SU/s200/chloejam.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Yesterday marked the end of an era. For the past three years I have lived with my friend, Chloe, and worked part time at Clayhill Halls of Residence as a receptionist around University. When I got up yesterday at 6am, I left the house that contained a sleeping Chloe and made my way to work for my last twelve hour shift. At 7pm, I returned home to an empty house and realised I was now unemployed and alone. Of course, I didn't let the morbid thought overtake me and I went out and met friends for drinks. This is an end, but also the beginning of the next chapter of my life. No more weekends will be planned around what shift I am working at Clayhill and I won't have to give up anymore Christmases or New Years to sit on my own all day behind a desk waiting for the day to end. <br />
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Not living with Chloe is going to be strange and take some getting used to, but it's all in the name of progression. I'm leaving Kingston to work and pay off debts and save which will enable me so much more freedom than I currently have. I have learned over the past few years that I am not ready to settle down in one place yet. The longing to have a homely base came about because my Mum moved out of our family home and relocated to Hull at the same time that I first came to Kingston. Although I am all up for change, this meant that I had to always be renting in Kingston and always have a room big enough for all my worldly possessions. By moving back in with my Mum after all these years, I will have a permanent UK base for my belongings and they can live there for as long as I need them to. I don't intend to try and build my own home from home within the next few years. I want to to travel and live and work in as many different places as I possibly can. I have nothing tying me down and I am going to embrace that to the full. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdn8sdZirMzw2FOnnNQvQUA5ohLAbqY3tYU42cgF-epn3ssFswt831Lwa7JYkfgIclho3-VbRWKWtDB9wN-P5JO7Xd7ChEDR_WAoRRFpnxbywhKUTr-_Aef0wJM-22Q3NEr6HVLQ_1NgU/s1600/chloejam2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdn8sdZirMzw2FOnnNQvQUA5ohLAbqY3tYU42cgF-epn3ssFswt831Lwa7JYkfgIclho3-VbRWKWtDB9wN-P5JO7Xd7ChEDR_WAoRRFpnxbywhKUTr-_Aef0wJM-22Q3NEr6HVLQ_1NgU/s200/chloejam2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Clayhill has represented a lot of great times and a lot of bad. I lived there for a year in 2007-8 and had one of the most... dramatic years of my life there. I met some wonderful people who I will always treasure, like Chloe and Lucy, but I also became very close to a group of people that had no interest in Uni and every intention of getting fucked on drugs every night possible. The result of the year was some very important lessons. I learned to be independent, what my priorities were, how and when to recognise when the people around me are impacting negatively on me, and I also realised that I should be studying Creative Writing and not Sociology. So with the bad, ultimately came good. As a work place, there have also been some wonderful friendships as a result- Zoe, Jemma and Sharon and many more. I couldn't have afforded to live and study in Kingston for the past three years without it, so it has been a blessing. I am glad it has come to a close now, however. Time to move on. I can't wait.James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-52307825289720442982011-04-16T09:54:00.000-07:002011-04-16T11:34:53.963-07:00Music makes the people come together...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/d/d2/Born_This_Way.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="300" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/d/d2/Born_This_Way.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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But what the hell has happened to Lady GaGa? First there was the camper than Greame Norton 'Born This Way' that sounded so much like Madonna's 'Express Yourself' that I found myself wondering around actually singing Madonna rather than GaGa after having the melody rammed into my skull. Now the second single from her new album, 'Judas', has been unleashed onto a world of unimpressed listeners. <br />
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The opening is ripped straight from her own 'Bad Romance', but when the hard edgy beat kicks in, things begin to look promising. However, when the obscure and horribly flat verse begins, which also seems to even be out of time, although that's probably the desired effect, it is clear that this is just as car crash as her last single. The chorus is simple enough and as unoriginal and 90s as 'Born This Way'. The overall effect of the song is a wall of chaotic sound that clashes and sounds like an artist desperately clutching at straws. <br />
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Where has the sleek innovative production and brilliant song-writing gone that was featured on every track on 'The Fame Monster'? Listen to 'Dance in the Dark' or 'So Happy I Could Die' and then 'Judas' and tell me that the quality here hasn't taken a considerable nose dive. <br />
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To make matters worse, Lady GaGa unveiled the new artwork for her new 'Born This Way' album today, which features a cheaply photoshopped image of herself as a motorcycle and quite possibly the cheapest nastiest font ever used for the album's title. <br />
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Both the song and album will undoubtably be a hit as GaGa's loyal 'monsters' surely will love just about anything she puts out right now, but for those of us that are music lovers and have until this point enjoyed Lady GaGa's work, I fear the mighty has taken an almighty fall from the credibility tree. It will be interesting to see if American audiences will make it as huge as they made 'Born This Way', which spent six weeks at #1, despite all the controversy surrounding the track. I think they just lap up any positive message and anything by anyone they are currently obsessed with. In the UK, the song peaked at #3, which isn't bad by any stretch, but was a big disappointment considering her label expected it to shift in it's millions and two of her last three singles made it to #1. <br />
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Oh dear GaGa. Stop trying so hard to alienate those that like you.James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700172742445398311.post-28210804555715808932011-04-14T17:28:00.000-07:002011-04-15T02:14:26.957-07:00The L Word<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://nanchatte.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/the-l-word.jpg?w=300&h=300" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="300" src="http://nanchatte.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/the-l-word.jpg?w=300&h=300" /></a></div><br />
For years my flatmate and friend, Chloe, has been badgering me into watching her favourite TV Show 'The L Word', and for years I resisted. A few weeks ago, however, I arrived home quite late and was a little drunk. I grabbed some drunk food and found Chloe sat in the lounge watching the very show I had avoided all this time. I didn't intend to sit and watch, but within ten minutes I was completely hooked. Two episodes of series six passed in a flash and Chloe has a smug look on her face. 'You love it, don't you?' she asked. And yes I did. I needed to know what happened to these well written characters. They seemed realer than anyone at that moment. I felt compelled, so she gave me six boxsets of DVDs and told me to watch. <br />
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Over the following weeks I effortlessly worked my way through all six seasons of this brilliantly written lesbian drama. Watching a show that circled entirely around women was surprisingly a breath of fresh air. Each character was completely different, totally plausible and absolutely fascinating. Bette, played by Jennifer Beals is this intense woman with a passion for art. She is a strong, confident business women, but we see her crack several times and then pull it back together. Her journey is remarkable and compels you to watch. Never have I felt such compassion for characters on a TV show. Jenny is a troubled and intricate writer, who is incredibly deep and messed up, yet successful. Shane is the hot androgynous woman that even I, a gay man, fancied. Alice is the witty, bull in a china shop. Dana is the famous tennis player that gets cancer. Helena is the rich girl that ends up in prison. It's just brilliant! What makes the show so fantastic is the humour. The show is a drama through and through, but the both the humanity and humour really lets this show into your heart. Highly recommended.James Christopher Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15965046940711577998noreply@blogger.com4