Magic

Wise words from a wise man.

When we're young there is magic in everything. There are fairies, hiding, in the grass down the garden. Dolls can speak and toys can see, hear and understand. Imagination is a key companion and the stories inside a mind can save us. A secret world beckons inside every lucisiously flowering garden and between the sunshine and the shadows anything is possible.  Tooth fairies and Christmas elves watch over us, noting down our good behaviour and rewarding when they see fit. Magic lingers like an ever present coat, warm, toasty, like slipping under a blanket and drifting off to dream.

Then we grow up.

And nothing seems to have the same sparkle. 

Sense and logic and cynicism take over. We become bitter, we bitch, we bite. We doubt each other and most of all ourselves because how, how can those dreams we once had ever come to fruition? Not in a world where money not magic talks. Where our job becomes our focus. Our work, not, our imagination. When the daily grind and the slog to get out of bed at 7am replace the leaping excitement of endless summer holidays and magic beneath the apple tree.

When we loose our sparkle.

When we loose our way.

But it's still all around us. And maybe, just maybe, if we can believe again we'll get to sparkle again.

Wake me up when September ends.

I'm a nervous anxious type of person. Much more of a planner than a spontaneous adventurer, a 'let's think about this for a second' girl rather than a 'let's do this now!' This never manifests itself more than when change is afoot.

Next week I return to work for the first time in Six weeks. There is no dramatic reason for such a long absence - I work in a Primary school and really, after 12 years of school, 2 years of sixth-form and 2 years of working in a school I really should be used to this September feeling by now.

However, it seems that I'm not and I'm not sure I ever will be. Every year without fail come the last week of August I get those 'back to school' butterflies stampeding around my stomach. I have odd dreams about forgetting I've left the lamminator on, getting lost between classrooms and being too late on my first day. In short, I full-fill every cliché about being nervous about something.

I'm never quite sure why ; I love where I work and get on well with the people I work with. I adore teaching and helping the children and can't wait to have another little class to bond with this year and this is very much what I want to be doing. But yet, these butterflies won't go away, this dull anxiety wont leave my head alone and I'm feeling... dare I say it... Like I want to run away and hide?

Do any of you experience this? Whether you're at school, college, uni or work does this affect you and more importantly, do you have any tips to combat it? Until September 4th I'm happy to be the pupil instead of the teacher!

Do we speak how we write?

Somewhere between smothering myself in Olbus Oil (a desperate attempt to placate yet another sinus infection) and slipping into the land of sleep last night, I found myself analysed in a way I was entirely unprepared for.

One of my best friends Steve is currently studying Creative Writing at Uni with aspirations of one day becoming a writer himself. He's pretty damn freaking good and, as a result of this I'm always keen to glean an insight into his critiques and compliments in relation to my own ramblings. On this occasion however, he surprised me entirely by not only analysing what I'd written (and telling me off for starting a sentence with and -Sorry!) but through what I'd written, analysing me as a whole.

Call me naive but despite two years of studying English language and Literature in what seemed at the time painful detail, I had no idea how much about a person you can decipher through their writing. Focusing his attention on my previous post I think it's fair to say Steve hit the metaphorical nail on the head throughout the entirety of his little Sarah review.

For example, I know I am prone to writing in a rather lyrical way - I adore the flow of words and I'm a great lover of alliteration. My English teacher once infact informed me that 'you write a paragraph when you require a sentence' but it seems a habit that I cannot shake. Steve noted, however, in reality I rarely speak like this - of course there are occasions when my inner poetic goddess (really, who am I kidding?!) decides to emerge, but in general I tend to verbalise in a much more paired down manner than this blog would perhaps suggest. Why, however is very much debatable. My expert linguistic analyser suggested a lack of self belief, which I think many despairing relatives who encourage me to have more confidence in my endeavours would eagerly agree with. However, whilst I hold my hands up to a large degree of inadequacy and self doubt, I also perhaps wonder if it's a mere result of practicality?

In this day and age text speak rules supreme. Coz like LOL YOLO. A slightly more 'old fashioned' manner of speaking is somewhat alien and sounds downright odd in amongst a sea of abbreviations and slang. In my head, however, I'm free to speak however I want and a little old fashioned flavour is favourable in my writing. Could this be the difference?

Flipping this example on it's head it's commonplace for one to adapt the way they speak to fit in with differing occasions. You only have to look at other languages where entire terms off address are changed completely depending upon who it is you're talking to, your relationship with them and their position of authority. Do we merely adjust the way we speak / write and even think depending on circumstance? Or does it run much deeper than that?

I'm entirely curious, despite only touching on the briefest section of the analysis Steve offered me, it has awoken in me some curiosity that spawned this blog post. I'm eager to hear what you think? Do you write exactly as you speak, or do you tweak one or the other? If so, for what reason? I'd love to hear from you.

In your own words of course. None edited.