I was a lesbian but got saved through the salvations of Jesus Christ.

I have the DREADED BLOCK again...

For some reason, every time I sit down to write I just can't get into it. I have been working today on some of my portfolio and I'm really unhappy about one of the pieces I am submitting. I think it's because I have found a style that I like writing in and I think works well but I need to be able to show that I can write in different ways too so I feel obliged to include this piece. But each time I read it I feel a bit embarrassed and unhappy with the words on the page. I think I just need to fine-edit it and pick out what works and what doesn't. I'll paste it here and you can let me know what you think.

Anyway, yesterday was a really nice day. Ian came over and we gave each other our presents. He liked what I gave him and I liked what he gave me. His gifts were very well thought of and very 'me.' We went down to feed the donkeys with my sister and my Mum but they weren't there so we had to just throw the stuff into their area and hope for the best. Some thoughtful soul had hung a plastic bag of food on the gate, which we threw away for fear of them eating it and dying. Following that donkey disappointment, we walked home and played games until the evening when I went out with some friends and Ian went home.

I met my friend, Perham, in the pub last night and bumped into some people we know too. There was this guy that I haven't met before with them and he was really drunk. Nothing wrong with that, but he was just going on and on and on and on to Ann-Marie about his brother and his girlfriend, Becky, who is a friend of hers. He was saying how bad a girlfriend she is etc but kept saying the same thing over and over. It was horrible to listen too and I jsut kept thinking that he wasn't making her look bad, but instead making himself seem like a complete twat. No one needs that in their life. So then Perham left and I stayed with the others for another drink. We walked up to another pub in Clevedon, the Campbells Landing, which was too grubby for us to stay in so we went to Amy's house and drank there. It was really nice, because I rarely see her and it was great to catch up. I was still there at 3am this morning so wobbled home and fell straight asleep still with my Ipod on.

So, today has been kind of uneventful. I went down to Perham's house and had lunch with her and her family and then we played some games before I came home. I tried to get on with some work but it wasn't really happening so instead I did some research into similar books to my novel on Amazon. The idea being to get a grasp of format, publishers, market etc. It was worthwhile and I feel better for having done something work related. I am a bit worried though because I haven't done too much since I came back to Bristol but I have a battle plan for the time that I'm home. Tomorrow I am going to send off some more emails for work experience. That's the thing that's worrying me the most because, although there's a lot I can do, it's also down to someone else to say yes or no. It's not the same as the rest of my work if that makes sense.

Anyway, while I was researching similar books, I found this gem which someone actually handed to me at college once:http://www.amazon.com/Setting-Love-Order-Healing-Homosexual/dp/080105186X/sr=8-1/qid=1167248434/ref=sr_1_1/002-3131900-3748069?ie=UTF8&s=books

If the link doesn't work for some reason, the book is called 'Setting Love in Order: Hope and Healing for the Homosexual.'

The review highlights include:

Too often, I do feel that gay men are disrespectful towards people curious about our sexuality. Why?

^^That doesn't even make any sense.

I was a lesbian but got saved through the salvations of Jesus Christ. This book honestly tell the TRUE story of how the author became a gay but later saved by Jesus Christ.

^^ Both of those sentences are amazing. That lucky lady, saved from the grubby, grabby hands of lesbians. And the book tells a TRUE story. A TRUE one! About A GAY! Imagine!

I can't see why a book like this exists. Not at all. I can understand that some people may have difficulty coming out but for someone to say that a gay person needs hope and healing is ridiculous. It makes me so angry that religious people say things like this and just shrug it off as 'what Jesus would have wanted.' Why? If the Bible/Jesus had one message, from my years in Catholic education, it's that we need to love and respect each other regardless of our differences. But now, people read what they want to from it and use it as a weapon. Things change and this kind of reliance on religion is just stunting acceptance and diversion. Ugh, I can't even think about it without getting annoyed.

Fuc*ing book.

Anyway, I have to stop now. My friend is on her way round. I might add some more to this later.

Oh, but here is the piece I am a bit anxious about. COMMENT ON IT!
xx


Back to Happiness.

Connecting the speakers for the donated hi-fi, Greg looked up to see the old man still flipping through the vinyl in the corner of the shop.

‘Are you looking for anything in particular?’ Greg asked, leaning over the counter.

The old man glanced up and shook his head quickly before his eyes fell again on the box in front of him.

Greg was a people watcher. He could spend hours creating characters from the customers he dealt with in Oxfam; the people with stories to tell as they bought a fourth hand Catherine Cookson novel, a salt shaker in the shape of a snowman, or a jigsaw of the Queen’s face with seven missing pieces. It was the older people he liked to talk to; the regulars who came in after collecting their pensions, spending the little money they had on a treat for themselves.

He watched as the old man lifted out a record – ‘Patsy Cline, Love Songs.’ Turning it carefully in his hands as if afraid it would break, he lifted it to his face and smelt the sleeve.

‘You found something then?’ Greg asked as the man approached the counter, nodding as he handed over the record. He reached into his coat pocket as Greg rang the price into the till.

‘£2.50 then please,’ he said as the old man patted the pockets of his cream coat with urgency. Greg watched as embarrassment and shame filled every wrinkle of the man’s face.

‘Can you not find your wallet?’ He asked.

The man shook his head, his cheeks flushing the colour of mistletoe berries. His eyes stared down, fixed on the glass display cabinet of jewellery. It wasn’t just his wallet he was looking for,
Greg thought, but his dignity. How awful to have your mind and body betray you with age. He looked at the man standing before him and it broke his heart. Imagining himself in the same situation, he handed the record back.

‘Here, take it,’ he offered, ‘free of charge.’

The old man shook his head firmly but said nothing, only raising an out turned hand to signal his refusal.

‘You can pay next time you come in,’ Greg suggested, sensing the older man's pride. The man shook his head again before pointing to the vinyl, then to the hi-fi.

‘You want me to play it in here?’ Greg asked.

The man nodded, still staring down.

‘I’ll give it a go,’ Greg said, carefully sliding the record out of the sleeve, ‘but I can’t guarantee it’ll work. We only got this in today.’

He placed the disc on the turntable and gently lowered the needle onto the ridged black surface.

The old man watched in anticipation, his wheezing breath the only sound in the shop.
And then the record began to play. Greg sat on the stool behind the counter as Patsy Cline’s voice breathed life into the shop.

Have you ever been lonely, have you ever been blue?
Have you ever loved someone, just as I love you?

The man listened to the song, his eyes closed. Tapping his fingers on the counter, he stepped left to right with an invisible dance partner, a smile raising his glasses. Greg felt his heart surge as he watched the man delight in the song, delight in a memory.

The old man opened his eyes as the song faded out. Greg turned the hi-fi off and, looking back at the man, saw a single tear creep to his cloud white moustache. For the first time since the man had come in, the pair made eye contact.

‘Thank you,’ said the man in a voice that sounded stale and cracked. ‘Thank you.’

Greg smiled in response, gestured to the armchair beside the counter and started the next song on the record. The old man shuffled to the chair. Sitting down he rested his hands in his lap and closed his eyes. Greg watched as he absorbed the music, letting every word and every note take him back in time, take him back to happiness.

I love you so much it hurts me.
Darling that’s why I’m so blue.
I’m so afraid to go to bed at night, afraid of losing you.
I love you so much it hurts me.
And there’s nothing I can do.