Wellington Street

In which we take a stroll down a very strange lane.

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"Things Left Behind"

"He met me under the gazebo, late at night, when my parents would remain completely unaware of my escape. He had the most brilliant blue eyes, and always seemed to have a smile just for me. I know this, because it is how I always saw him. We had known each other ever since I was little, had spent every day together, and were always there for one another. This made our attraction perfectly natural. But my parents didn't approve, despite the fact that they knew that he would never be able to bring himself to hurt me, had always been there when I needed him, and would continue to be there for the rest of my life.

One day, I told them that I had fallen for him, even though in my gut I knew they wouldn't understand. They told me I couldn't see him anymore, though they both knew that such a request was impossible to implement. They could not stop me from seeing him, and I think deep down they always knew that. Despite all their complaining and their warnings, I continued to spend time with him; just him and I, under the sandy colored gazebo.

One day, I was talking with him when another group of kids came upon us. They started calling me ugly and stupid. They said that I was crazy...and told me that no matter what I did no one would ever love me. I began to cry, but then he began to yell at them. He said that someone already loved me, and then he said it again, but this time directly at me. The other kids didn't seem to notice, but they walked away all the same. It was things like that which made him special to me. He always defended me, even when he didn't have to.

One day, my parents had me stay home from school. I had become very sick, and was hardly able to talk. They brought me to the doctor, and he gave me some medicine that was supposed to help. Then he asked me to leave the room so that he could talk to my parents privately. We went home, and for a entire week I was put up in bed. My friend came every day, and though my parents never approved they didn't seem to mind his presence.

One day though, he didn't come at all. I asked my parents if they could find out what happened, but they just looked at me sadly. For the entire day I waited for him to come, my anxiety growing more and more as time passed. But the hours continued to collect, and yet still I had to wait. I began to think something terrible had happened to him because I knew he would not leave my side, not willingly.

Better Not Stop - An Explanation

On betternotstop

I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.E. B. White This week has been a wonderful week of exciting planning for the future and goal making. I feel like I am getting a fresh start, just like the facelift my blog is getting. I've been catching up on a host of new music and news and finally putting together a new business plan. How have you been getting on? (smug face ;-) ) My blog name arose through one of my last conversations with my Dad. When he was ill for the last few months of his life I spoke to him more than I had in the previous ten years combined due to my immaturity and stubbornness (I'm a Taurus, go figure). embarrassing but true. One thing we didn't discuss was what he thought of how I was living my life. I was afraid of the answer. Since leaving Uni I had worked hard to build a reputation in a job that was long hours and low pay. Despite gaining experience in marketing, PR, events and management in several different fields in the Music Industry I wasn't sure exactly what I was doing was right for me. My current main role was leaving me exhausted, stressed and feeling under appreciated. Although I loved my job I was scared that in the long-term what I was doing wasn't sustainable, frankly I was terrified his response would be to give up and get a 'proper job'. Incredibly selfish of me right? In front of me was a man who worked years in a job he hated to support his daughters, had finally moved to his dream house and retired and within four months his dreams were shattered and he was told he would die. But please try to see the flip side. Suddenly under all this pressure I realised how important his opinion and thoughts were on the way I lead my life. He had been the one constant who had never ever questioned any of my decisions, always supporting and providing help. It wasn't fair, he deserved so much more - I'd have happily cut off my right arm to give him a few more months, healthy and happy to enjoy his retirement but all I could do was helplessly looked on. Dad wasn't perfect, none of us are - but he had done an impressive job of caring for me and my sisters anyway he could and as the final weeks closed in I gained a huge new respect for the man I called 'Dad'. And all I wanted to do was make sure I made him proud, something I had never really considered before. My sister Olivia had asked him what he thought of all of us and I was described me as 'scatty'. With further probing from her (Thank God!) he meant that he admired the way I went from role to role, constantly challenging myself and adding to my skill set. he knew I hadn't found the thing that made me happy, but he like the fact I just kept on trying new roles and coming up with different ideas. I realise that actually he had given me more respect then I deserved. I needed to now prove to myself I was that person. One of the last conversations I had alone with him I was telling him about a stupid work situation to keep his mind off the pain. I was trying as much as possible to make it into a funny anecdote, but I wasn't convincing either of us. After I had finished he simply replied, 'Don't get stuck like I did, just don't stop'. The above quote was by the long term writer E.B White, who wrote Charlottes Web, Stuart Little as well as being a long term contributor to the New Yorker Magazine.

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