anxiety, breathing, skin + bones.

I have been trying to think of an opening (or an anything) for this blog post because, like usual, I have NO PLAN. I just know I need to find some way to articulate this almost inarticulate state. Perhaps I shall start with writing a poem;

Monsters are not always hairy
With sharp teeth and aching limbs but sometimes 
Invisible 
Almost exciting, comforting 
(For the most part)
And you tell yourself that your monster is just fine. 
(How are you?)
I'm fine, thank you. 
But it's a lie because invisible or not,
Cosy or not, 
A monster is still a monster and it's finding a way to e a t 
You. 

My life has been a whirlwind. This is probably incredibly cliche but it is incredibly apt. Everything has happened, collapsed on my fragile brain, flattered my mere skin and bones. And they have been incredible, great things but crushing all the same.

And now I shall try and articulate these things (with a little help from analogies).

1. As most of you know, writing is my thing. It fuels me, excites me, helps me to process, escape and just live. I've never known if my thing has been good enough. Say, for example, you bake a salted caramel rainbow sprinkles jam sponge cake and give it to a group of people whom you know ADORE salted caramel rainbow sprinkles jam sponge cakes.  Obviously, they will say "ah that was so delicious." And then you get braver, riskier, and give the cake to the GBBO judges. You have no idea whether Mary or Paul have even tried a salted caramel rainbow sprinkles jam sponge cake, let alone liked one.

So they taste it... and they don't just like it, they LOVE it and they want  m o r e .

(Substitute the cake with 5 pieces of writing and you have the incredibly EXCITING thing that happened to me last week, after sending my creative writing off to my dream university).

Naturally, you freak out when Mary Berry and Paul like your unique cake. They are industry experts and you think "shit, maybe I'm actually good." And that's when you start re-thinking everything. You want to bake profusely, publish a recipe book, feed the whole world your cakes but you can't because your kitchen is too small and you've run out of ingredients.

2. On November 24th, I turned 18. The night before my 18th birthday I couldn't sleep. My heart was proliferating, I felt sweaty, my mind was shaking with ideas and worries and monsters. Even breathing proved tiring. I had just received all 5 of my uni offers and, oh my, was it overwhelming.
Because it turned out the other universities really liked salted caramel rainbow sprinkles jam sponge cake too.

((For those you that don't know, in England you choose 5 universities to apply too. If you get accepted you then just choose TWO universities. One as your firm choice (eg the university with the grade requirements that match your predicted grades) and one as your insurance (eg the university that has lower grade requirements than your predicted grades). If you get the grades for your firm choice on results day, you go there. If you don't, you go to your insurance.

BUT if a university really liked your application, they may offer you an unconditional offer if you put them as your firm choice. AKA you could get 3 E's and we would still let you on the course. Somehow, and I really don't know how, I got 4 unconditional offers which now means I must choose which one I go to and put as my firm choice. 

O V E R W H E L M I N G ))

*Disclaimer/ to iron out any misunderstanding* Obviously, I am thrilled with my offers. Ecstatic. But it still feels like an uncomfortable knot that I must try and unravel. Maybe no one else will understand? Maybe some one will? That's okay. This is just me trying to unpick my monsters (that maybe aren't even monsters at all?)

3. The feeling that I should have done more. I'm an adult now. Yesterday evening I abandoned all homework/revision and began frantically designing the cover for a poetry book!? Seriously. I just felt this impulsive need to self publish my poetry IMMEDIATELY like Rupi Kuar did with 'Milk + Honey'.

4. ANXIETY. I had my first panic attack two weeks ago. And it was definitely not fun. Since then I have been on and off ill, missing lessons and spending days in bed feeling like shit. I worry about the feeling, about missing out on life, missing lessons and this in turn makes me feel more ill. My heart trembles and dances angrily in my chest until I cannot focus on anything but the possible impending doom of heart failure.

It just all feels too much. A perverse pressure, an excitement that is manifesting itself in this horrible, persistent nausea. And I'm scared of this monster.

I guess I don't know quite how to dominate it yet.. But when I do, I shall definitely share.

Thank you for reading this mess,
-J

of nothing + everything.

I felt compelled to write a blog post. About what exactly... is the question I'm asking myself, right now, as I type this with pyjama bottoms, a messy ponytail and coursework waiting to be written.

Words are very strange and very fascinating. Somehow, what I'm thinking in my messy-messy brain can translate on to paper (or in this case, a computer screen). And then sometimes, somehow, words aren't enough and everything is just very blank and heavy and nothing.

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago when everything felt very jumbled and I was angry, sad, stupefied and very very tired:

I’m a myriad of thoughts, emotions, expressions, laughter, tears and stillness. How can you even begin to unpick what I’m feeling?

And I guess that 'you' could be nothing and everything all at once. Am I making sense? Maybe. It doesn't really matter... sometimes words are meant to be just that- words. 

(I've been studying Hamlet and it appears his soliloquy's are affecting more than I realised- oops). 

Everything is always romanticised. All the emotions. It's all a bit messy- like a jigsaw puzzle being forced together and we're told 'that's just life'. 

And sometimes I want to be completely in-eloquent and sum up everything (and nothing) with 'bleh.' 

So, yes, I feel as though I am at a war with words and feelings and all the little unspoken emotions threaded in between... 

Until next time,

-J

P.S. 201 followers on bloglovin'. Hell yeah! 

self + faces.

I.

There's a lot of self in this world, both online and not. Self esteem. Self belief. Self confidence. Yet as our self____  makes us smile,  it tears others down. Whilst their self____ radiates, we doubt ours. It's a vicious cycle and I hate it. I.

Have you ever looked a girl and thought, wow she's beautiful without automatically thinking, wow I'm not. Or wow, she's prettier then me. Hotter than me. Better than me... until you've reduced yourself to a lesser being. I know I have. We are such a critical race and criticise we shall. Everything. Our eyebrow shape, the size of our eyes, lips, skin, hair, teeth. Everything that ticks the box of 'human'. Scrolling through tumblr, I will see picture upon picture of beautiful girls. 'Beautiful'.

And yet they all look different. Beauty is so broad; why the hell can't you fit in to it too? And when I look at these girls I don't feel self belief or self confidence or self esteem. I feel self doubt. The same way every single person behind the camera would feel self doubt at seeing another 'beautiful' face. It's so sad that we can't appreciate beauty without criticising our own. That we can't say you're beautiful without thinking of our self.

I want to challenge us to compliment; to love other beauty and self love our own. Let's bring everyone up (including ourselves). Faces appreciating faces. That- that's beautiful.

As always, replies are welcome.
-J

just chat.

I wanted to change some things on this website. Like everyone, I've grown up- grown out of the same blogging identity I've carried around since I was thirteen. I'm inspired, uninspired, inspired, uninspired yet I am certain that I want this blog to grow with me.

I'm almost eighteen.

Things are changing in my life, constantly changing. I never have a stable mindset and am always, constantly, frantically looking to the next movement -  the next change. This blog has slowly, somehow slipped in to commercialism. If it's done right, I'm not against it. But so often it isn't and I'm scared that Painting The Ocean maybe moving in to isn't and that's a change I'm not okay with.

Working with brands is exciting. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it. BUT (because there's always a but isn't there?) I refuse to let that jeopardise the realism I've worked so hard to achieve on this blog. I refuse to become just another lifestyle blogger portraying something that isn't really a lifestyle at all.

Balance.

It's all about finding a balance. Balancing school work and a social life, balancing blogging and instagram, balancing writing and reading, balancing sleeping and staying awake. There are always going to be inequities- and that's okay- but for now, at least, I want to write. About everything. About nothing. About the in between that isn't  poeticised.  I love communication, strangers, expression and creativity...

So, yes, there is going to be a change. In myself, more than anything. Freedom. And it already feels so damn good.

-J

i just wanna be a rock star.

This a little something I wrote the other day on a long and pondering train journey inspired by the song "Rockstar" by A Great Big World. As always, interpret as you wish.

There's a lot of talk about 'life is what you make of it'. That you should quit your stifling city job and go and live, immerse yourself in this elusive freedom, sell all your clothes and wear bare-feet as you skim the pavement. Because that's living, isn't it? That's adventure. 

What you aren't told is that working to feed a family, eating an entirely boring meal of oven chips and chicken nuggets is living too. I struggle a lot with adventure and the unknown and how all I want is to run across a field with my skirt hitched way above my knees. Unfortunately, this isn't practical. It's not realistic, it's a fantasy thrown at us by social media. That's living, they say. 

But what I can't? What if I'm working in a job that I don't love, just tolerate. What I like my overpriced handbag and my overcrowded streets and crooked smiles from watery friendships? What if I'm stuck with deadlines, car horns and aeroplanes in the sky?

-J

feelings #2

It has been longer than a year since I last posted something titled 'feelings'. Another is long overdue. My last post was written at the beginning of my GCSE year. Reading that back I feel an overwhelming sense of achievement, accomplishment.

And yet now, with another set of exams looming over me,I feel demotivated. Relaxed even. Ideas about the future are toying with me, grappling with me, consuming my everyday. And they're not frightening, they're exciting. I'm excited. University, social media, writing, new friends, holidays, festivals, travel... so many experiences I've got to look forward to that it is becoming increasingly harder to  remain in the present. To ground myself. 

I have never been stationary. I  always look toward the next thing, searching for the next adventure. I am never complacent. And that can also hinder my progress. There's a book on my shelf- I call it my 'ideas book'- in which I plan and dream up developments on social media. Some days I wake up determined to 'make it' as a YouTuber. My tripod is ready, the camera recording and then I just f r e e z e. Slow down. Blink. Other days I wake up with a hunger for money- a greed for adventuring and the cost that it demands. 

I want so much. I keep wanting, I keep dreaming of more and more. 

It's obsessive. Success. And I'm so tired.

Living is running in to the ocean with your best friend, they say. Living is jumping out of a helicopter in a suit, YouTube will tell you. Living is performing in front of thousands of fans every evening, the media will scream. How can we not want more? 

Steps. Thoughts. Breathing. There are steps I need to take to reach university, to afford festivals and aeroplane tickets. These steps may seem tiresome, tedious even, but they are fundamental. Exceptionally so. There are thoughts I remind myself when I feel I'm losing reality- when I'm off in a dream scape and suddenly I'm the next big 'thing' with money and a fan base and a big house and movie premier's. There are breaths in between. Little things like laughing with my best friends; taking a walk; smiling at the old lady next to me on the bus; pushing myself at school/ work; dancing through the night. 

Because that's life isn't it? Living.

Thank you again for reading. 

-J

change, happiness + a sky

I've been thinking a lot about happiness and how we let other people define it. I've also been thinking a lot about change and how it can be hard- very hard. I read some of old diary entries from when I was 15, today. It was odd: I saw similarities, I saw differences but mostly I saw an insecure teenage girl letting others define her happiness. 15 was an age of loss, and consequently strength. 16 was an age of loss, and consequently gains. And today I had an epiphany.

I am going to create my own happiness.

Looking back at the beginning of this year, I was so happy. Everything felt right, I fitted in, I had so many friends, I felt loved. And this, to me, was happiness. But things have changed now. And this time, I'm not going to be a 15 year old girl frightened of the movement, scared that without this definition of happiness she was never going to achieve it again. And hey, guess what? She did. She was strong, she found hope and for a short while it felt amazing. 

Change. Again.

I've never really liked change. When life is good- change is unwanted. When life is harder- change is craved. And similarly to not letting other people define my happiness, I can't shape other people's around my own. Bursts. Some parts of your life are like bursts- they come in transient moments before leaving and then coming back again brighter, stronger before leaving once more. Maybe they'll come back? Maybe they won't. Some parts of your life are like skies, always there. Sometimes they're brighter, other times they're dimmer but still never wavering- still a beautiful sky. You don't need to hold on to the sky: the sky holds on to you. You can try to hold on to the bursts but it won't help. Change is inevitable, it's what keeps the world evolving, emotions changing, moments and bursts to keep happening. 

I could look back at these bursts with sadness, mourning- wishing they could just stay a little longer. Recently, I haven't been in control of my own happiness. Now I need to change. Embrace your bursts, live under the sky but always remain in charge. These moments - as long or short as they are- enable me to adapt. They should be valued but not mourned because soon enough change will come again. And maybe, if you're lucky, they might come back... ready to be a sky. 

"make a life out of what you have not what you're missing"

-J

picture from my tumblr

the social media thing// the ramblings

I recently addressed this on Instagram (ironic I know) and wanted to elaborate on here. Okay so, social media is not real. This is arguably the most important THING about it: it is not real. Anything anyone posts online, whether that be youtube, tumblr, instagram, twitter is not real. Because you are viewing it through a screen. You are capturing a moment and then compressing it in to a gif or jpeg or a mp4 file or whatever and that is NOT REAL.

Now, I love Instagram. I have over 6,000 people that follow my feed; that is 6,000+ people that have never meet me in the flesh. Sure,they've met Jessie, oceanpainter_.... but they have NEVER met Jessie. And that's dangerous. I can portray whatever the heck I want to these 6,000+ people and they would never know the truth. And I, like anyone on any social media ever, am guilty of that.

Recently, I have been imagining  becoming instagram famous or youtube famous. Basically becoming an internet phenomenon. Then I watched this video [x]. And then I found her website [x] and honestly, I have never been so inspired in my life. Her video scared me. It made me want to take everything I had of myself down from the internet.

But.

What if I was REAL? Okay, so nothing I ever post is going to be an absolute representation of what is going on in my life, but that doesn't mean that I cannot be free. Freedom is a powerful THING, let's prevent social media from compressing us. I believe that everyone has the ability to CHANGE something in the world-an opportunity- and maybe my opportunity is through instagram, or my blog? I have a freedom, a power to change something. And I don't want to abuse that power.

I'm not perfect. And I never will be. I don't ever post the bad stuff. The parts where I'm crying or feel unmotivated or depressed. Sometimes I feel ugly and unlovable. I'M HUMAN.

Everything I write and post is as real as one can be on social media. Or at least, I try. I never edit myself or change my appearance to please number. I would never objectify myself (although it is very tempting to sometimes want to). I  just want to be me, And to be free.

I want to write to make people think. I want to take pictures to inspire. I want to post a video to make people laugh. It is all too easy to fall in to the trap of social media- and I don't want to anymore. So heck, I'm going to post whatever I want because WHY SHOULD WE BE DEFINED BY A SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORM?

So as my new inspiration so rightly says, "Let's be game changers!"

-J

my inspiration has run dry, what's going on?// the ramblings

Urgh. This is again going to be a fairly honest projection of my current feelings. Although I guess 'urgh' could pretty much summarise it. Anyway, here goes...

Quite literally, my inspiration has run dry. Kaput, drained, diminished, depleted, dwindled... whatever synonym you want to call label it! And also quite literally, I feel like yelling "what's going on!?" out of my window. I had assumed Art A-level would be the perfect opportunity to express myself and be free after the pressure's of English Lit and History. Instead I feel this great weight whenever I open my art book to another white a3 page. And  I just think urgh. How is one supposed to fill every crevice with expression when they have nothing to express?

I pick up a paint brush yet the paint dries before it even makes contact with the page; I pick up a pencil yet the lead breaks at the first signs of pressure... I then I think, perhaps it isn't the tools I am using but the actual motion of picking them up. Inspiration is a gift. I wish I could explain why art just isn't exciting me anymore. Sometimes the unexplainable has to remain unexplained to exist.

Concepts. I like concepts. I like conceptual thinking. I like thinking. And I realise now that my favourite thing about art is the way it makes you think. I want to be given a topic and think of the most pretentious, ambiguous idea that ties together a myriad of thoughts like "constellations" and think. Now the irony is, to get through this process of lacking inspiration I am writing a blog post. Writing a blog post. If you presented me with a blank sheet of paper and a lined piece of paper, I would immediately take the lined. If you gave me a word and asked me to write or draw, I would immediately take the pen.

And its so frustrating to have lost something which you used to find effortless.

I wish I could say something positive here. I am going to carry on with art.. but not for the entirely correct reasons. I am going to think of a concept.. a story... a thinking point.. and try to express the meaning  through art. Maybe that will help? Maybe it won't? But for now, writing definitely does.

Remember its okay not to be okay
-J

*picture from Tumblr*

the ramblings// treacherous

The above quote is from the novel 'Paper Towns' by John Green. I had always brushed over this quote, perhaps because I didn't fully understand the meaning. Or perhaps because it lacked significance to my life at that moment. Yesterday, the quote was said by the protagonist in the movie version of the novel. And then it hit me.

What are we all? What are we all, really? Just people. Right? People- defined by our experiences and decisions; yet,  that will never detract from the fact that we are all just people. Green is right. It is nothing short of dangerous to fuel all your hopes in to a  person. A person that is elevated so high in your world that even you can't see that their feet have never really left the bottom. By doing so, one is betraying a person's humanity; denying them of being anything but this person when all they crave is to just be a person. And its dangerous because it is impossible. Disappointment is inevitable, respectable, admirable. We shouldn't expect anything less or anything more of anybody. We shouldn't suppress emotions because they defy the very mattering of the person everyone expects us to be. Believing is merely a splinter away from expecting. And that is a very treacherous thing.

What I am trying to communicate is that you should never believe that you're not worthy enough to fill someone's expectations. Similarly, you should never expect anyone to be anymore than what they are. I will try and remember this as I continue through life. I think, I know, that I will be much happier.

Thank you for bearing with me on this ramble. I would love to hear about your own interpretations of this quote...

-J