The wrong idea

I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about my writings. I have been receiving some lovely comments, but I wanted to reassure people that I am just working with prominent memories that keep popping up during Shimelles class.

I always stay true to my first feelings. In the morning I throw open my wardrobe never knowing what to wear. If its my black tutu, as it is today, that is calling me then I go with it. Its been the same with Shimelles “ True Stories “ class. I go with the first strong idea that pops into my head. Its obviously the things I feel most passionate about.

I am at the happiest I have ever been in my life. I have no dark clouds on the horizon except, maybe getting old and coping with its aches and pains. But my past is what made me the person I am today. So if my “True Stories” just help people in my life to understand why I am like I am today. Then that can only be a good thing in my eyes.

I am an open book and I have NO secrets. Its just that, sometimes even though I ramble on for hours, something's have never been told. There was never any reason to share them.But now they want to be told. So tell them I will.

Today's digital layout is called calm. I toyed for ages what to call it. But in the end it was the only title I could come up with. I am used to using real scrap stash. And I love K & Co titles. They usually are my inspiration for a layout.

Again the digital layout is not really my style of scrapping. I am finding the free papers and embellishments I am working with all a bit drab and depressing. I want to find some bright and colourful, playful digital kits and then maybe my “True Stories” will change and reflect that.

Anyway, less of the ramblings and on with the show.

I appreciate that the journaling is very small. So for anyone wanting a read this is what I wrote:

She knew it would be all her fault, that the day would be unpleasant.

Bad things would happen to her at school.

She’d flunk the latest school test.

Her friends would be mean to her and she’d have to spend break in the library, reading, alone.

Or her worse fear, her parents would row.

So, she took that short walk back to school from the childminders every lunch time on her own.

No pavement cracks could be trod on.

She had to walk down the 3 steps individually and then that’s when the touching had to begin.

There were trees that were more important than others and each had to be touched in turn.

So it was always thanks to her, that school life would go peacefully and that home would be peaceful and calm.

But sometimes, just sometimes she was late for school and had to rush.

Oh the anxiety.

What would happen?

At other times she was religious in the touching and keeping to the routine, but things still went wrong? Her parents would still shout and scream at each other.

So she did what only she could do, she went out into the garden and completed her other special routine there.

Walking down to the grass, along the path and down the steps in a particular way and peace would rain down on her, and if she saw the thrush, true delight would envelop her and she knew everything would be alright.

Just for a little while……………