Saturday, 13 September 2014

monologue (fiction)

I see her everywhere. I see her in windows, glass doors, water, mirrors; I see her in my reflection. Memories of our childhood haunt me every time I get a glimpse of my face, a face almost indistinguishable from hers. We used to share everything, Kara and I, but now that our connection has been severed, I feel lost, faceless. Kara was always a better version of me: extroverted whilst I was introverted, confident whilst I was shy, popular whilst I was unpopular, intelligent whilst I was average. Yet we were inseparable as children. Sometimes we could just look at each other and know exactly what the other was thinking - a telepathic connection wired by our matching genes.

When I was in primary school I accidently threw a ball through a classroom window, shattering the glass and nearly breaking a teacher’s nose. The classmates who had witnessed it ran to tell on me, whilst I ran crying to the bathroom. Kara found me there, and as I explained the situation, her face lit up. “Give me your jacket and skirt,” she ordered. I did as she said, accepting the clothes she shoved at me in exchange. When we had dressed, I followed her, bewildered, to the teacher. “It was me, miss. I’m really sorry,” she said, staring levelly, as always, in the face of authority. As she was ushered to the headteacher’s office, she turned around and flashed a ‘thank me later’ smile before turning the corner.

I used to feel both inexplicably lucky and cursed for being Kara’s twin. When we were alone, we treated each other as equals, sharing secrets and playing games that no one else understood. But at school it was different – she was with the popular group whilst I had only two close friends. She often ignored me at school, passing by me at lunch without even a wave. It wasn’t particularly important that I was her twin, but when people realised that she was mine, their eyes would widen in awe and confusion that someone as remarkable as her was related to someone as unremarkable as me.

One day, when I was fifteen, a new student joined our school, arriving in the middle of a maths class. “Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked, motioning to the chair next to mine.
“Sure,” I smiled, moving my bag and shifting over. She leaned over to look at my book, and having seen my name, paused and said “Oh, you’re Kara’s sister,” with a wistful look in her eye. Rage raced through my veins and it took all my strength to supress the urge to scream and cry at the same time. The girl cocked her head in confusion. “Aren’t you?” Before I knew what I was doing, I had slapped her hard across the face and was running out of the classroom. I climbed over the school gates and ran all the way home, sobbing. I can still remember the icy pain in my lungs from running in the early winter air, and the strange feeling of freedom from crying publicly, unashamed.

I will always be ‘Kara’s twin’. Over the years I’ve started to resent her for this, blaming her for my lack of identity. That’s why I started to separate myself from her, blocking her out of my life. I dyed my hair, began acting differently – I even contemplated getting a tattoo. But still I see her in myself; her ghostly image follows me like a shadow. I used to cover all the mirrors at home, trying to free myself from her, but it didn’t work. That’s why I sought help, why I’m here now. She’s all I’ve ever known – I have always existed in the context of Kara, so who am I without her?





Friday, 29 August 2014

afropunk



America came and went.

The first thing I was really aware of when we arrived was that I had become slightly disenchanted with the trip - travelling to Chicago and New York is normally the highlight of my summer, even the highlight of each year. But at first it just seemed like a race to see each friend and family member, with much less time to just 'hang out' than I had originally imagined. From the start of the trip I was already acutely aware of how fleeting it was going to be. Even within the first few days I felt as if my holiday was already nearly over. 

The feeling decreased when we got to New York. Although we were still super busy, rushing around New York was easier to enjoy - even riding the subway felt like a special experience. We went to Baltimore for two days, and it was surprising just how segregated it was. Then last Sunday (has it been nearly a week already?) we went to the AfroPunk Festival, which was the coolest thing ever. People were dressed so well/awesomely/enviably and the music and general vibe was a much more profound adjective than I can think of right now. On the last day I was kind of in denial that we were really leaving and as we walked around Williamsburg in the comfortably uncomfortable heat I just felt really happy. On Saturday we went to the roof garden on top of the Met and you could see the entire New York skyline. Looking at all the buildings, a mix of the iconic and the unknown, under a purple-grey afternoon sky, I felt a sense of love for the city that I couldn't quite place at the time. I didn't miss London for a second during the whole trip. 

Another thing is we barely took any pictures. Pictures are proof that things happened, things you can look back at and reminisce about some memory. I think the lack of pictures somehow made the trip go faster. I feel like this year was lacking something it had last year, whether that is a sense of 'summer' or a feeling that the trip would never end, I don't know. I romanticise America unfairly, which is probably why I feel disappointed when the holiday isn't perfect.

After being in New York, which had perfect summer weather, we arrived in a rainy, grey London. I immediately felt a sense of loss, a sinking sensation that it's all over. That summer is officially over and i may as well hibernate through winter, just waiting until next year. I've been back now for a few days and feel as though I have accomplished nothing once again - summer is supposed to be a time of freedom and I was hoping I would do some writing, drawing, music...nada. Since we got back I have holed up in our house reading (finished Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, which i really enjoyed) and slowly doing homework, convincing myself that I will do something tomorrow, before school starts next week. I loathe this condition of perpetually doing nothing that I have every holiday. I guess I'm writing now, but what is this really? A whiny internal leaking of stupid privileged teenage thoughts that no-one's even going to read. boom.




I have been neglecting this blog for too long, partly because I feel there is nothing to say and partly because I am losing the faith/time/inspiration/energy to write. I say I enjoy writing but I never really do it, except for school. I'm going back in 5 days which is nothing but also forever. 

-hannah

Monday, 26 May 2014

i am the strangest stranger i know

I went to the most amazing Frida Kahlo exhibition in Rome in the Easter break about a month ago. There was a huge range of works, some of which I had never seen before. There were interpretations of her paintings that gave me more of an understanding of her and her work. She is truly admirable and a fantastic artist - it was so special to see so many of her paintings in one space. 

It's half term now and when I go back to school in a week I'm starting my GCSE courses, which is super scary. Because I'm a massive pessimist I am regretting my choices (specifically dance) already and looking at my timetable just makes me shrivel a little inside. I think I love dance but I'll be having it like 4 hours a week and no more art or music EVER AGAIN makes me really sad. My current mindset is either avoiding thinking about GCSEs or being like 'it's only 2 years'. Why is the British school system designed to freak us out from as young an age as possible? Each year at school limits our choices for the future - who ACTUALLY knows what they want to do for the rest of their life by the time they're 14? 

I have been lonely and bored today, which I have compensated for with lots of chocolate and some reading - I have just started this great book called 'Emmaus' by Alessandro Baricco which is similar to the Virgin Suicides and just as lyrical/beautiful/coming-of-age-y (shoutout to Jesse and Juniper for lending it to me). I have also spent way too long doing pointless things on the internet, such as refreshing Instagram every few minutes and searching 'I am bored and lonely what should I do' into google. These brain-melting activities led to me writing some existential stream-of-consciousness crap: ('am a stranger. I am the strangest stranger I know. Maybe the meaning of life is to grasp the stranger by the shoulders and spin her around, sit her down and have a meaningful conversation with her. Get to know this ‘I’, this ‘me’, this ‘self’.')

And then I decided to write this, because I haven't posted anything for ages and I am in the mood.

Probably nobody reads this anymore but I guess that's not the point. It's nice to write, even if it's just for myself. It's really amazing how easy it's become to get your voice into the public void - just start a free blog. All you need is wifi and a brain. 

I'm in a weird mood as usual. I'm excited for summer and going to America again. I'm in a band but we don't have a name yet. 

Being alive is the strangest experience ever.

I should probably stop now.

bye,

-hannah 

Thursday, 2 January 2014

aftermath

I made a Tricky mixtape, which is up and to the right in the sidebar. 

Tricky's music unveils the beauty, the rawness and the darkness of our world. He makes sound tangible, a wave of sweet, deep sea washing over the listener. He collaborates with female singers of ethereal voices, layered over his own tender growl-whisper. Pairing such contrasting voices creates an intimacy with the listener and a suggestion of a dark underside to beauty, a beautiful underside to darkness. His songs meditate on life, death, authenticity, love, heartbreak, individuality and despair. Tricky mixes cultures and genres in a completely original and natural way, sampling snippets of other songs and films (like Chet Baker's 'My Funny Valentine' in Tricky's 'Valentine') and working around the vibe. The lyrics in his songs are poetic, hypnotic and honest. 


"I rue the day that I ever met you/
And deeply regret you/
Getting close to me.
I cannot wait to deeply neglect you,
Deeply forget you/
Jesus, believe me/
You might have been my reason for living,
I gave up on giving/
Gave up everything.
We were a right pair of believers,
A couple of dreamers/
So how come you hate me?"
(Poems)

"How does it feel like to be so heartless?/
Why are you breaking me for no reason?/
Don't you know there are things I never learnt/
Teach me how to speak your sign language"
(If Only I Knew)

"Your eyes resemble mine, you see as no others can/
Here, inherit my kingdom, speak of our people's plan"
(Aftermath)

"I can't breathe/
And I can't see/
MTV moves too fast, I refuse to understand/
You go your way and I'll see mine/
Feels like wasted time/
And it feels like I must be blind/
How'd you like yourself?/
You don't know yourself"
(Pumpkin)

"Take me kindly/
She is dark-eyed/
Never saw, never saw/
She's the lifeline to the heartbeat/
Can't feel the heartbeat"
(Piano)




It's good to write about things again. I was worried I had become incapable of legitimately analysing things that I love. 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! 2014 sounds so weird! I hope it doesn't go as fast as last year did, and that it'll be a memorable, glorious year for us all.

I guess I've given up on the whole 'New Year's Resolutions' thing
(who even achieves any of their goals?? lul not me), but I do want to read and write more, appreciate/love things fully, make some new friends, practice guitar more/focus on my playing/make a band, and be slightly less pessimistic. Also I want to cut my hair, just for some kind of drastic change that I still long for in the very depths of my brain.

-Hannah

Wednesday, 1 January 2014

2014

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!

2013 came and went. The year ebbed and flowed and then dried up, waiting for the monsoon of the new year. Hasn't it just flown by so fast??? 

We welcome you, 2014. 

I can't write v. well at 1:13 in the morning. anyways peace out n stuff!!! yay new year!!!! scary! woo!!!

love,
hannah




Thursday, 12 December 2013

neglecting your blog 101

I want to be in Twin Peaks. David Lynch is a twisted genius - I've been in denial that it's over, that I have watched it all. WHAT ARE THE OWLS???????? AHHHHHH IF THEY ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM THEN WTF ARE THEY.

breathe.

ahh like the best two characters <3

*
I am sick of this narcissism that has taken over our generation. I don't need another excuse to think/talk about myself, which is what a blog is? basically?

Sometimes I feel separate from myself, watching over. It's strange. Dreams are the same way, observing a scene, observing myself. I want to cover all the mirrors, delete my instagram, any means of actively looking at myself. 'selfies' are a strange concept. Why do we take pictures of ourselves? I'm not particularly against it, but it's not good for me. me me me.

*

Tricky is an entity, a necessity. Found this song in trying to make a mixtape of his music:


How beautiful? 

End of the year and it is busy busy busy. Where did the time go?

-Hannah

Monday, 11 November 2013

cut it short

I have lately been pondering/obsessing over the possibility of cutting my hair short. 

I was thinking shoulder length or even shorter? 

I love my hair long but I need something different. Life is irritably bland. My half term has already blurred with the hours of school I'm sinking in. The only change is my emotions, which are sucky and confusing at the moment.

I watched Paris, Texas on Saturday night, which is simply an aesthetic beauty fest (most of that beauty being Jane). It was calming to be in Texas for a while. I miss America so much. It really is a great film, which I feel inadequate to review. I am so bad at describing how I feel about things lately.

Cue inspiration for my wanting to hack off my hair.















...and a ridiculous photo of me with scarlett's hair:
-Hannah