Sleepy Hyde

The ring I had put on her finger only hours earlier opened up a long gash along my chin as she hit me square in the face with her left fist.
Dark brown eyes. Empty wells of darkness. No longer the woman I loved. As she tried to hit me again I managed to grab hold of the wrist and stop her. The noise she made was that of an angry animal. A primitive snarl.
Hands bound on her back. Bath robe belt stained by the bloodied ring. Having to restrain her made me hurt inside.

The wedding had been beautiful. Our closest friends all in the same place, celebrating our love. Her dark brown eyes had sparkled with gold and happiness, as she said 'I do'. The skirt of her dress was flowing like the frothy water of a wild river as I watched her dance the evening away. I had hoped all the dancing in combination with numerous glasses of champagne might tire her out. Give her a heavy sleep.

It was three weeks before the wedding when I made my decision. I was not going to tell her. As the big day approached I knew I had to make up my mind. Man and wife. Say it, of forever hold my tongue. I would deal with it. Subdue it. I would love her forever.

The dark empty eyes looked at me with hate. I tried to ignore it. Played with my phone as I laid on the luxurious bed in the honeymoon suite. Pretending not to hear its quiet growl.

It had been going on since the very start. The first time I saw her she was sitting in an old mans pub. Drinking a pint of lager and with her legs relaxed wide she did not look out of place. Until she turned around. Long blonde hair. Almost white. A thousand strands of golden linen that framed a stunningly beautiful face with dark brown lively eyes. I had no idea what on earth she was doing in my smelly local pub, but what ever the reason was, I was going to be forever thankful. From that moment on we were inseparable. The flames of passion had lasted for more than a year, and only barely cooled down since. She was vibrant.

The first time it happened I had known her for a month. After a night in with some wine and a movie I woke up to the most terrifying scene. Her. Standing in the middle of the room. Head cocked to one side, watching me silently. I realised instantly that something was different. Wrong. This was not just her sleepwalking. The eyes looked deep and empty. Almost questioning me. Like it didn't know who I was. I was not able to make a sound. After what felt like an eternity it left the room and I followed. When she woke up a few minutes later, lying in the sofa she did not remembered anything. She smiled at me, and laughed at her 'sleep walking antics' that had been a part of her life since her early teens.

As I looked over at its bloodied and ripped wedding dress I wondered why no one had ever told her. Surely someone would have noticed what happened to her in the night? Someone would have seen that this was not just a sleep walking woman, but something.. different? But I already knew the reason why. I had battled with the question myself and made my decision. No. I was not going to tell her. Nothing would be worse than knowing you turned into something else, something evil, when you thought you were asleep.

I would guard her, subdue the evil, and love her forever.

Art Deco Fetish

I love art deco shapes. Especially in decorative furnishings and art work, but also in buildings.

On my way to my bus stop in Edinburgh I walk past one of the most gorgeous art deco buildings I have ever seen. The Fountainpark Public Library.

If you have ever been in Edinburgh you will know that Fountainpark is far from the most glamorous of areas in town. It is in fact exactly the opposite. And that has sadly affected the upkeep of this stunning building and what it is used for. The Hall is no longer used for community activities (As I enter I can feel the ghosts of the early 1940s styled youth dancing away to the latest jazz tunes) but holds a citizens advice bureau. The public library is still there, but feels desperately run down and has a vague, yet distinct, urine scented atmosphere..

Entering this place is heart breaking, and I feel a strange need to help! Rip up the 1070 carpets, polish the bannisters, clean the windows, order in an insane amount of new books and organise excellent community events that everyone will want to go to. But there is clearly no cash available for institutions like these in todays Edinburgh. Paying nearly £1000 a year to a council that lets beauties like these decompose in front of your eyes makes me angry! When I get rich (... hmm... positive thinking is good for you I'm sure...) I will want to do things for communities like these. Communities that are known to be rough, communities that are dying and needs a helping hand to pull themselves up to be able to enjoy and feel pride in their historical heritage.

The entrance is on the corner

The stunning shapes and decorations of the old community hall

Above the entrance

The old ticket booth is now used as a pin board

Original fittings. Polished by 70 years worth of use

Fabulous staircase with mint green walls 

//  Tee  --  aka mother freakin' Tee-resa

More ramblings.. And a new blog category!

As you will have noticed, the blog has lately mainly been used as an outlet for me and my, somewhat twisted, thoughts rather than short stories. I hope that's ok. The thing is that getting into a proper habit of writing (no matter what that is) actually means I have gotten loads of inspiration! What a relief!
So I think I will keep writing some random posts here, when I feel like it.

For those of you who are actually here for the stories, rather than my ramblings (....I can't for the life of me understand WhY of course....*ahem*), you will be pleased to see a new category by the top bar of the blog, where I've collected all stories (under a heading cleverly named All Stories).

I just realised how incredibly useless this picture
probably is.. Never mind. That's what the new
category-button looks like! *YaY*

On another note, I bought a new awesome book yesterday. It's a fabulously huge brick full of historical facts. HOWEVER..... perhaps I should have thought twice about getting this delivered to my work at the Chemistry Department at the university......................???????......... :-O

//  Tee  --  Promises to post regular blog updates from Her Majesties Prison Service....

Hmmm....

I am stuck in a bar.... On the wrong side of the taps!

Was helping out with a few shifts in a wee local bar in the west end of Edinburgh last night. As it was really slow most of the night I mainly spent the evening failing to read some important documents I had brought with me. Instead I ended up thinking. Not always a good thing.
Some of the topics me and my brain have tried to sort out:

• Why is it that as soon as I want to write a short story, I end up with heaps of texts about my own private thoughts and issues? Have I perhaps got a need to share? Or am I just one of those wanky sort of people who think their own views are superior and therefore deserve their own space? Or is it just procrastination?
• Why does my awesome low-carb / high-fat foods give me such horrid breadth?
• Why do my feelings about work, friendship, love life have such a roller-coaster behaviour, switching at an alarming speed between utter despair and extreme happiness?
• Does it make me a horrible person that I am less interested in the crisis in Syria than figuring out when the new Sherlock series starts, when browsing the BBC web page?
• Why am I the only one who openly wants gadgets mainly because of the way they look rather than their specs? I mean come on! No one wants to use things that are ugly! The beauty/feel/athmosphere component is so important! 

There. A scraping off the top of the vat of guey, slimy, nonsensical things that has been brewing away in my mind.

Deep in thought

//  Tee  --  Has just realised that she might be a shallow, bipolar procrastinator with a need to voice useless opinions through a bad smelling mouth. Bloody great.

The Anger - or what I learned from a brief tour into the brain of an abuser

Angry Tee

I always feel the Anger in the chest first. On the exact spot where I imagine my heart is. It starts as a tension. A dull cramp that grabs the heart with a force I can feel all the way through my body, back to my spine. As if I am being impaled. Slowly bored through by a stake of Anger. Probably made out of steel, or blackened burned sharpened wood or something like that. Like one of those stakes Buffy carries along.

But I aint no vampire. I am a normal girl. In fact, I am a NICE girl. One of those girls who grew up without making any fuss. No tantrums as a child, no pre-pubertal mischief or teenage shenanigans. No questioning of authority, no deviations from normality. All nice.

A boy would have had a different normality to live up to. His Anger would have been expected. He would have been assumed to fight for his right to play with the toys in pre-school, be aggressively pubertal in his teens, and defend his woman's honour in adulthood. His anger would have been expected.

But I aint no boy. I behaved just as expected. Always. Well, almost..

The Anger always come in short bursts and strong flairs. Like that time when I was 14 and my new pair of jeans (an excellent pair of stonewashed Crocker's) felt too tight and I suddenly screamed, cried and pulled large tufts out of my hair. Or when I was 17 and cooking dinner and salted the food too much and screamed and threw a plate in the wall. Or that time in my mid 20s, when my opinion was dismissed in discussion at a party and I kicked a man hard on the shins. And now, two weeks ago, when the most moral man I know told me I was behaving ridiculously, and all I wanted to do was to punch him in the face. Hard.

A flair of Anger can be powerful and
completely uncharacteristic of your  own being

Every point in time when this has happened - sudden flairs of chest pain and Anger - have always been followed by a complete sense of misery. I have always hated myself. Completely. For not being able to control my feelings. For not behaving as expected of a nice girl.
But two weeks ago, when I suddenly felt the type of Anger that would have turned me into a domestic abuser, I came to an important realisation.

First, I'd like to make it clear that I do not believe that were as humans are built like pressure cookers - that feelings of sadness or anger can build up inside until we have "a good cry" or "a fight waiting to happen". Our brains are more sophisticated than that. In fact I think it might actually be harmful to always act on our feelings, as it will create a possibly damning behavioural pattern. If there is anything we humans are good at it is getting into habits. There are many people out there with a habit of crying, getting angry, or depressed. And I believe a change in behaviour is the only thing that can help. What was it Einstein said?

Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result

However; what my insight into an abusers brain (which at that microsecond happened to be my own) made me realise was the incredible danger we are putting people in by assuming a predetermined behaviour.

I grew up behaving exactly as I was expected to behave. However, that turned out not to be at all suitably to my true being. My Anger was not allowed, so instead of acknowledging to myself that my feeling were allowed I built them up inside and only let them come out in strong flares - which only led me feeling more miserable. Human phycology is obviously exceptionally complex, but I think we can all agree that one sure way of making an unhappy human being is to suppress her natural behaviour.

This leads to a ridiculous situation where little girls are assumed to be all nice and quiet, boys are assumed to be loud and aggressive, teenagers are assumed to be moody and hostile, women are assumed to be vulnerable, have shallow interests and gossip about their friends, men are assumed to be strong and intelligent and have uncomplicated sport-centered friendships.

If we happen to come across an individual whom's true natural behaviour matches all our assumptions, then I think we would be very lucky indeed. We are all humans and our behaviour spans over the whole register to varying degrees no matter what gender, and obviously also no matter what skin colour, background or education we happen to have been blessed with.

Assumptions are likely to make us all unhappy and if we are really unlucky they might make us behave in a way that not only hurt others, but is against our own true beliefs.
Let's do our best to open our minds a little and throw our assumptions away.

I wonder how much things like these help cement our assumptions of children's behaviour?
Will it make girl behave less angrily than she really might feel?
Will it make a boy behave more angrily than he is comfortable with?

Sometimes all it takes is a clever comedian to point
out how much we actually assume about each other, (and our dress sense! :D)

//  Tee  -- Wanted to write a short story, but had a brain full of mess. So thought I'd have a bit of a Tee-rant instead :)

Is it a sign?...

... if so of what??

I took the bus to the university today. I would blame the weather (it did look rather bleak) but then again I live in Scotland.. If I was really bothered about an unexpected shower I would NEVER cycle. The truth is that I was simply too lazy.
But sometimes a bus journey can be really rewarding. I normally make myself a flask of coffee and bring along a nice book or a new podcast. I also play my favourite game of 'guess-my-life' - where I make up a life story of interesting people that get on or off the bus.
Anyway, So I was on this bus, when I saw it: The Sign.

It was not a sign that advertised anything in particular. The particularness (a word needed in the english language I feel) of this sign was the fact that I had NEVER seen it before. Now, this specific bus route is one that I have been on at least 5 times a week, for at least 30 weeks of the year, for at least 7 years.
1050 times. At. Least.
And never before had I seen it.

It was standing halfway out into a field, attempting to advertise the advantages of parking your car at the park-and-ride and take the bus into the city centre instead of driving. It was old, partially obscured by some bushes and falling apart. All I could think when I saw it was:
How sad.
This poor sign is old, fragile and threatened to be completely obscured by a patch of unruly spruce. Yet it is still here. Still on this earth, in Scotland, halfway out in a field just outside of Edinburgh.

It made me think.
I thought of how many of these signs there must be all over the world. All representing failed businesses, old streets, empty restaurants and forgotten dreams. Still here when their message is long gone and hopelessly outdated.
I thought of the people in the world with a similar fate. Perhaps all our lives are destined to end like this. Forgotten, unnoticeable and with a peeling facade. Screaming out a hopelessly outdated message and advertising old unnecessary ideas.
I thought of how, in a society where new innovations are being stacked upon each other at an alarming rate, this will happen for my generation faster than any other.

I will soon be outdated. Soon forgotten. Soon almost covered by dense undergrowth...

Then I reached my stop. And thank fuck for that. Was nearly getting a bit depressed there. Not good.
But it DID remind me to get a new razor.


//  Tee  --  Loves the feeling of the wind in her leg hairs on the bicycle. But sometimes treats her man to a shaved leg. or two.

Getting Physical

Professor Stevenson walked up through the corridor towards his office. He was in a foul mood after a long and restless night. The physics department was still deserted. As this was the first day back for the undergraduate students after the summer break, he was sure the department would be very busy very soon. The sun was just creeping over the horizon, throwing long shadows over the worn floors. He crossed over to his office door, wondering if he would be lucky today. He tried to open it. No. He tried again, concentrating hard. Nothing happened. He sighed. He walked back along the corridor towards the library, with the aim to pass some time before the rest of the staff would arrive and perhapsgive him a hand.

He didn't like the new person he had been forced to share an office with. In fact, he couldn't remember ever having voted through the absurd suggestion of sharing offices with each other in the first place. Ridiculous. What was happening to the physics department?! Professor Stevenson was going to give the University Committee hell at the next meeting. But until then he was confined to one half of his own office, with the new faculty member taking up more space than was needed. A Dr O'Donnell. He had no idea what she could possibly know about ultrafast lasers, being so incredibly young, but apparently this one was one of the latest stars. He wished she would at least look at him. But instead she was obviously mocking him by carelessly resting her feet on her desk and reviewing a research paper whilst picking her nose, as if he wasn't even there! Outrageous. He made a symbolically loud sigh. She looked up at him. He smiled, but she just shrugged her shoulders and looked away.

He was on his way to the library. The morning had been unproductive, mainly disturbed by the arrogance of his new colleague. He loved the library. It made him feel at piece. He could collect his thoughts, and also secretly look up all his old research publications, dreaming his way back to more productive times. He could stay in the library for days at the time.

He had to rush to make it back to the lecture theatre on time. He loved the first lecture for the new batch of physics students. Their innocent faces, still eager to learn and willing to study - not yet seduced by the cheap beer in the student union bar and the freedom of living away from your parents. The students were already on their way in through the door when he arrived. He had to squeeze past a young boy to get in. The boy suddenly shrieked for no reason and Professor Stevenson had to give him an angry look. What nonsense. He walked up towards the podium. But Dr O'Donnell was already standing there. He was confused. Did she want to speak to him perhaps? Maybe apologise for her strange behaviour towards him?

'Welcome to your very first lecture as physics students. My name is Dr O'Donnell, and as many of you might have heard I will be teaching your Mechanics Course this term, as I am taking over after the untimely death of Professor Stevenson earlier in the spring…'

He tried to understand. But he couldn't. He walked back out of the lecture theatre, along the corridor, slowly walking towards to the library. He needed to think. The University committee was going to get hell for this.