Tag: writing

ness talks about life

things i did not do in 2022

nesskingsley

If I had a nickel for every event I organised in 2022 and missed … I’d have three nickels. That’s not a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened three times …

I MISSED A FLIGHT TO CARCASSONNE

Yeah, I could have gone to the France. (Bonjour! Voulez vous une baguette?) I had a cheap flight, and an airbnb booked – it was beautiful, a lovely little apartment up several flights of winding steps, overlooking the old town, with a cathedral at the very bottom of it all. A boulangerie right around the corner. I could have sat on a balcony, eaten pastries, and woven a story!

Photo by picjumbo.com on Pexels.com

I did … none of those things.

The week before I was due to catch the short flight over to France two things (2) happened:

a) I began to feel a tiny, incy bit poorly

b) the feeling of dread began to climb

There was this very vivid mental image in my mind, you see – I hop on a plane and go to a country, find a ride from the airport to the apartment, walk deserted streets, forget to buy food because it’s too late, lie on the bed and perish of starvation. In the morning I wake, a Victorian waif, and sip water from a tap. Misery is my companion. Despair, my friend.

The vibes, I announced to any unfortunate person in my general vicinity, were off.

I released that I was an adult and thusly, I have autonomy. If I do not want to hop on a flight and butcher a beautiful language and be battered to death with a baguette – I did not have to.

This felt like a sudden and beautiful moment of self-realisation.

The plane took off. My seat, empty. The airbnb, cancelled.

(And it was a good thing too – I developed a filthy cold and had a redder nose than Rudolf himself. Forgive me, Rudolf! I’ll be guiding that sleigh tonight!)

I DID NOT SEE SPOCK

I say this with love, but I probably shouldn’t be permitted to buy tickets. To anything. You know, just no tickets in general. Step away. Don’t purchase.

And, in the dreadful occasion that I do purchase the tickets, I should also ensure that I have a method, a means, or a way – of getting a refund.

(I have not learned my lesson.)

A friend and I were going to go down to London to see Spock (Zachary Quinto) and Friar Tuck (David Harewood) in a play which probably was Very Serious and Important. I definitely was going for the cultural element, and not because I was determined to support Zachary Quinto in person.

We had a dream. We had a plan. We even had a parking space. And then strikes hit the railways and a dastardly cold struck my friend.

Reader, I tried to give those tickets to someone else. I did my very best. There were no takers. We couldn’t move the tickets without incurring extra cost, and we couldn’t get a refund, and if I made the trip on my own I would be driving at one am in the morning. No one wanted that. Especially me, Ness, who is very attached to the idea of being in bed and not on a motorway in the wee hours of the morning.

Alas, when the curtains opened there would have been two empty seats in Grand Circle Row F. But listen, dear actors and stage hands and theatre folk – we were there in spirit.

I messaged my friend: this play is moving me to tears.

He agreed, but mentioned that he couldn’t see the stage as someone’s head was in the way.

We were, in all probability, in our PJs, in our respective homes.

I DID NOT GO TO COMIC CON

… as you can tell, there is a theme here.

Having been to London Comic Con, dressed as Jason Todd and sporting the fakest and most wonderful of crowbars, it was obviously imperative to do it again. But this time? A friend and I were going to be dressed as hobbits.

How exciting! How thrilling!! We were going to look spectacular! The hobbitiest hobbits to ever hobbit! I began mental preparations to make the hobbit feet (and by ‘make’ I mean ‘buy’).

These plans did not last long.

‘What if,’ I asked my friend, ‘we went as ironic hobbits. With a white t-shirt that said “Hobbit” on it?’

She agreed.

I felt quite smug, as if I was a future hipster Hobbit. I could run around and demand if total strangers had eaten their second breakfast! What panache! What style!

but just imagine us, accosting everyone ‘HAVE THEY TAKEN THE HOBBITS TO ISENGARD?’ and then being thrown out of comic con because our great wit proved to be too powerful

Those t-shirts, dear reader, were never made.

But no worries! We were still 100% going to comic con!! It would be grand! Great! Brilliant! It … did not quite happen.

There was a communications failure and the carrier pigeon I sent my friend was shot on its way to her. To exacerbate the matter, I had neglected to organise a) transport and b) apparel – assuming, of course, that magically and wonderfully these things would just … happen.

They did not. We live in a society.

The night before, a decision had to be made. When the morning of comic con dawned, I had a delightful lie-in.

(Sometimes, the best plans can be the cancelled ones.)

Believe it or not, the interrupted plans don’t worry me too much. Sometimes, the dream of going somewhere – that delicious, comforting feeling of something to look forward to – is worth the money itself.

(Is that what I say to comfort myself? Yes. Yes, it is.)

In Calvin & Hobbes, Calvin’s dad would probably say cancelled plans were character building or something, and you know what? I’d agree with him. I really did enjoy that lie-in.

What things didn’t you do in 2022?

ness talks about life, ness talks books

endurance, and the tragic woe of the library computers being down

nesskingsley

let’s time travel a little …

I’m in a busy coffee shop because the computers in the library are down and I can’t write the perfectly thrilling sci-fi novella series that is currently filling my brain.

(An integral part of my work day – nipping into the library and writing during my lunchtime – has been horribly disturbed. No one asked my permission. I am bitter.)

But, in a smooth segue, another part of my work day has recently ended – listening to Astronaut Scott Kelly talk in a dry monotone about space for 11 or more hours as I drove to and from work.

At first, I was dubious. Wasn’t sure I could last. Wasn’t sure I even liked the audiobook. Reader, I was very, very wrong. Not only did I enjoy it, I may have loved it? I like the dry monotone now? WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME?

Also I know so much about being an astronaut now. I feel fully prepared to strap myself to a rocket and shoot to the ISS.

(NASA? CALL ME. I’M READY)

Endurance flip-flops between Kelly’s one year stay on the ISS and the life journey it took to get there. And you know what? It is, to borrow a phrase from Spock, fascinating.

It was a difficult road and it is told in meticulous detail. The grit and determination it took can’t be understated. The perseverance required was inspiring.

It also sounds exhausting – the one track, driving push to reach your goal. But Kelly did it. He managed it. And he wrote a book and read it to me, personally, in the car. For two weeks.

I’d better vamos, the lunch hour is almost up. There is a couple on a lunch date sitting at the table next to me. My coffee waffle is eaten. Ice cream for lunch? Yep. That happened.

Zero regrets.

Also I tried to take a picture of my lunch and the flash was on and I can never come here again. The end. Have a good day.

it is an embarrassing moment, but using the lessons I’ve so recently learned – I didn’t give up. Look! The carcass of my lunch!

Wait. Forget that. There is a man cradling what can only be a chihuahua in a jumper on his lap. I must come here again. Always. Forever and ever.

ness talks about life

what to do: a follow up to a life crisis

nesskingsley

I know, I know, I’m sure everyone has been burning with an intense desire to know exactly what profound thoughts have been rattling around my head and also – of course – which work sector I ended up gracing with my superb skills.

I have a job. And it will come as a complete shocker that it is not one of the three professions I listed in a previous blog post. Gee. Life is surprising. But working on an offshore oil rig – apparently – was a touch too far. As was being an astronaut (though I am working on that, I’ll have you know) and a saturation diver. Life is also cruel like that.

My brother and I were exchanging genial insults the other day – and then he said to me:

I hope space DISAPPEARS so that you can NEVER be an astronaut.

I’ve never been more proud of him. It’s a level of pettiness I can only aspire to achieve. (I shan’t transcribe the conversation that led up to the above quote, but please do me a favour and imagine that I was marvellously witty.)

However, I digress. I’m writing this because it feels as though I have embarked upon what – in certain circles – is known as:

A NEW SEASON OF LIFE

*throws confetti, accidentally pollutes the environment and chokes one (1) rodent, a rainbow appears in the sky and hits the last migrating goose*

No, I’m not getting married. I, I’ll have you know, am clearly going to be a spinster until I’m a withered husk of bones and wrinkles. You’re welcome, world.

Neither am I – as the scriptures say – ‘with child’. See the above reason. I’m not ready for motherhood. My guppies – George Harrison, Ringo Starr, Neil, Paisley and the deceased Nebuchadnezzar, John, and Paul -would agree.

It’s amazing what making a life change does to you. Being able to quit a job that was growing steadily more pressured, and finding a new one that is far less pressured? It has been such a blessing.

And then, there is of course the life crisis I underwent whilst sitting in the hairdresser’s having my hair dyed partially grey. (The life crisis had nothing to do with the colour, I’ll have you know.) I sat there and was still and so withdrawn into myself it was strange that life was still happening around me; hair was being cut, nails done, and conversations were being had.

I sat and stared at myself in the mirror and thought so hard it was surprising I didn’t ruin my three brain cells. I walked into the hairdresser’s a youngish woman with grey hair tips, brown roots, and a vague life plan.

I left with brown roots shot through with grey and an Idea that was boggling me with the simplicity of it. (Don’t ever limit yourself, by the way. There is more to you than you know/remember.) It wasn’t a book/blog related thing – which, perhaps, is one of the reasons I was so stunned.

So, that’s that. Exciting times. Uncertain too, but isn’t it always the case? (For the love of Pete, if you want to maintain your sanity don’t spend too long on the news or social media.)

this is the ‘moon’. you may recognise it. my camera is truly brilliant.

We hopped in the car the other night – drove into the countryside to crane our heads back and look at the stars. The moon shone so brightly that it almost obscured all other night-sky lights. It shone on the water; made it magical and yet so much more. This was real; an everyday extraordinary sight that added flavour to life.

I didn’t bring a flask of tea with me – an oversight; make sure you have a clean flask with you if you venture out on an autumnal evening.

Anyway, the point – the whole point – of this post is to say: life goes on. What is now isn’t forever. Have a look round – you can do more than you think.

And if you don’t necessarily succeed? Hey, who cares! Sometimes it’s the trying that matters. It’s the journey that enriches. The refusal to stagnate. The decision to keep your eyes open to possibilities and the desire to look for the wonder of it all.

So keep going. You’ve got this.

books, ness rambles

this blog has wrinkles / also: a gift

nesskingsley

While the general census of the public seems to be time flies, it hasn’t felt like that here. However, to my considerable surprise, I realised quite recently that it’s been eight years. Eight years since I created a wordpress blog and embarked on a long hunt for the perfect blog name. (I still live in hope that I can find it!)

This blog has grown up with me, in a way. I started it in my late teens; as a kid with long, long hair who loved books immensely.

this picture could be like, a metaphor or something. but i prefer to remember it as ‘standing in a goat field with a book from a blogger i followed so a part of her could be in england’ because my gosh that’s a thing i did.

I’ve rambled about my life; about living abroad, things that didn’t happen on my adventures, ear piercings, hair dyeing adventures, how to make the perfect cup of tea, a bookworm’s guide to makeup – but most of all, I’ve rambled about stories; stories I’ve loved, stories I disliked, and stories I’ve written.

i’ve also taken many, many photos of books. because that’s a thing i’ll be proud to tell my grandnieces and nephews about

I think we all need a place for ramblings – this has been mine. Or at least, it’s been one of them. There are places and there are places for different forms of expression.

And man, this particular one has been fun. Some of my favourite blog posts are the ones in which I forced myself to watch an abomination of a movie, read a book about Batman and was disgusted, and recounted my immensely successful attempt at a Robin Hood retelling.

In our world of views and likes, ‘has it been a popular blog’ might be the first question asked upon hearing ‘eight year blogversary’. And the answer is – no. While it would – in theory – be nice to be one of those big blogs with a multitude of likes and so on and so forth, that hasn’t happened. And that’s okay. This blog has been exactly what I’ve needed it to be.

a place to do whatever the heck i’m doing here, for example – did i even write about the book i’m holding? i’ve no idea

I have immensely enjoyed using this space; I’ve written when I’ve remembered to and how I’ve wanted to. I’ve made schedules and abandoned schedules and then – for sheer larks – made more schedules (and abandoned them too!)

It must be said though: I am very grateful for those lovely souls who have read here over the years. I might not have quantity but by golly, I have quality.

What’s next, then? Good question! I’ve no idea. Who knows what the future holds? The past two years have been … well, they’ve been something. The internet isn’t always the greatest place to be – it can be difficult to navigate its waters, even in little corners like this. But writing about books and about, oh heck – anything and everything – has been a joy.

I can’t say I’ve learned many things over the last eight years – but what I have learned (and then promptly forgotten and then have to relearn) is this: we aren’t promised health, happiness, or even tomorrow. But we can change the way we view things; we can choose hope and we can choose joy and we can choose how to react. We can choose.

And that, my friends, is a God-given miracle.

You might see different posts pop up – on space, on eels, on the books I’ve remembered that I’ve read, and perhaps on ‘bigger’ topics or perhaps not. Either way – as a celebration of the eight years I’ve dwelt here, I’ve placed A Most Irregular Prophecy as completely free for the day. You can grab it – or not! – right here.

If you’ve been reading here a wee while, or are only just stopping by – thank you, and in the words of Guy:

Don’t have a good day. Have a GREAT day.

(happy reading!)

ness talks about life

what to do: life crisis edition

nesskingsley

In June, I quit my job. It wasn’t to write full time. If the last month is anything to go by, that would be a truly terrible idea.

(It appears that I can write best by having something called ‘a structure’. Ew. Take it back.)

I did take some time to complete the publishing of A Most Irregular Prophecy which was useful. Immediately afterwards, I was bitten by a writing bug – the symptoms of which were: has ideas, cannot write. Entirely useless. Utterly vile.

And this month, I’ve been caught in the midst of a job hunt. I’m weighing up my options. Here are a few that are definitely on the table …

AN OFFSHORE OIL RIG

I have watched precisely (1) movie and read (1) romance book that is either set on an oil rig that explodes or has a main character who works on one. That being said, I really think I absorbed enough crucial information to know that I could most definitely be brilliant in this line of work.

Would I worry about its potential detrimental affect on the environment? Yes. Do I have the upper body strength of a limp noodle? Also – yes. Do you see these answers?! So positive. My future is bright.

#goals

SATURATION DIVING

I’ve watched a documentary about this (Last Breath on Netflix). Boom. Sorted. I’d be fine. One hundred percent. I’d be a thriving diplodocus.

(Would I be terrified? Yes. Would I get over this fear? Yes! Do I have any experience with diving? … No. Is the documentary about a close brush with death? Yes. Yes, it is.)

(Also – mild digression – it’s a very interesting documentary. I’d highly recommend it.)

ASTRONAUT

I was contemplating offering my services as an astronaut when I saw that the UK Government had this on their website regarding a potential career:

THE CHEEK!

How appalling. Haven’t they learned to beam yet? One would expect to be able to beam home from space for the weekends. Disgusting. The state of the world.

I’m reconsidering. Seriously reconsidering. Yes, yes, I am. I will refuse to complete my (multiple) PhDs that I am most definitely doing. In astrophysics. And … astrology. No. Wait. Astronomy. That’s the one.

(I read a book about eclipses once and also enjoy staring at the night sky, valiantly discerning the difference between airplanes and stars. I feel as though this qualifies me for a great many fields.)

It is quite fortunate, I think, that I love to read books – through their pages, you can live a thousand lives and walk in many different shoes. In the meantime, the job hunt continues. Next up? A job on an Ocean Liner. Massive boats that have nice big names. Like The Ginormous. The Colossal. Or … the Titanic? Ah yes. That could work. Lovely ring to it.