What did I do today?
Today was boring. But it was one of those long, almost gracefully stupid days needed for living.
Its...slippery in a way that you lose all sense of time except day and night, itchy and starving, rock or techno, lost or confused. Its one of those days when you forget its not a Sunday or that you've woken up at 11:30, officially the second longest day you've woken up since summer began. You forget about starting over, y'know its that time your Dad has returned from the OLYMPICS and its as if he never left, although it means you have to be quiet at nights and you can't eat ridiculous things like porridge for dinner again, (internetting at 11pm is out of the question!).
Of course, its silly, but its not. Its a refreshingly boring day. You remember all the future you would never considered to be a thought: your cousins growing older and all th movies you haven't seen. An interview, a poetry reading, a GYUK meeting. Food, that morish dude. You remember you have a future and family who are involved somehow although you never really tell them anything.
An overdue celebration needs planning that you've only cried about on the Samaritans and in an email or two to a Disgruntled Moose - hold up, thats the past. Blast, blast it away for its almost forgotten now.
You've got a future. And it needs worrying about. I mean, seven books to read in around a month and now GCSEs to distract you!
Actually, the best thing about these days is that you forget a month ever existed and that you've busted your butt, even if there are no regrets? Who'd ever thought today there'd be a second to last day in August? September is getting impatient and I have a window to break and a shutter to pull down on this night. Get down to it.
Monday, August 30, 2004
Thursday, August 26, 2004
Drumroll please! Thank you...
Well, today was strange. I felt really disappointed.
Firstly I was so not nervous it was starting unerve me, which in my brain was going completely ridiculous-probably the choice of words. So in my mind I was spinning round in circles. My inner child giggling.
Then, I could barely sleep last night so I decided to do my hair while I watched Flipside TV on channel 4 (its some show when they flick through all those mysterious channels on Digital. I found a new channel called The Horror Channel thanks to them. So watching that tonight-I need a laugh)
ell asleep about 3am, which was the latest I've been up in weeks. I of course then had the nightmare that has made my day.
The alarm rang.
So I rushed out of the door, and saw my good old school, CW, RC for the very last time. It was very pretty.
Just waiting, waiting for the results, in a small cue, waiting for Maria, who's always a little late. Then came Charlotte looking wasted and in good fashion. I vaguely remembered her saying she was going to arrange some big get-together, and that she never called. I forgot it again. It was only a little slip of paper, and it was all there, simply black and white and condesceding:
English lit - A
English lang - A*
Mathematics - B
Double Science - A/A
History - A
Religious Studies - A
Business Studies - A
French - B
Textiles - B
I was so, so disappointed (why, you cry!) I knew why, but no one could really understand it; they're fantastic results, and hey, I don't even know the margin. I should be over the moon, jumping over boulders and skipping like an agile Graham Norton (like so many straight guys all around me), but I felt terrible. It might have been breakfast-I found out way too late it was gone off, but then again gone off food had been following me around like a curse, so it didn't really imprint on my mind. Everyone was so happy with their results, and everyone was congratulating for deserved results. I couldn't help the breakdown and my thoughts which lead to carelessness and unrivalled hatred inside myself, attacking me. There was also Walk For Life, in which I raised £70 for people with HIV, the decent friend I've been, all the good poems I've written, my marvellous coping skills and I felt a tiny bit better.
Then, to better this feeling, Maria and her friends just decided to leave. We walked behind them but they didn't look back on us and no one asked me if they wanted to do something. Just walked off and I was left with Meg, before she left me too. Ash, came and went in a very quiet haze in his mum's car. Avril, his best friend at the end of the year, didn't mention him. Neither did anyone else, for that matter. You tend to forget that Ash is a loner at the best of times.
I think that my day is comfortably punctuated through conversations, with myself and other people.
The one that comes to mind was after everyone had left and I was on the bus to Ealing Broadway because I felt like buying a book and I wanted to disappear for a while. I almost burst into tears because I realised I got 7 A-A*s and not the 8 needed to be a candidate for NAGTY (national association for gifted and talented youth - a gov. scheme). Now I look back on it, its so stupid and I realise that I'm measuring myself up to standards that aren't individual to me at all-like a really badly made glove, its not one size fits all and I forgot it in the stab of depression. They're like little darts, the bastards.
So, I was getting off the bus when Aunty Audrey called me-I told her my results, she was very happy, pleased. Said 'she wasn't worried, I knew you'd do well.' All the while I was convincing myself to not to hit myself for the fifth time. Against a brick wall, next to temporary bus stop we talked:
"Are you happy with your results, then?"
"Yeah." (Blinking away tears)
"Where are you now?"
"I'm in Ealing Broadway"
"With all your friends, I bet!"
"Yeah" (digging nails into palms)
"Are you going to the cinema or are you going to each other's houses?"
"Nah, its just going to be quiet." (blinking, blinking, don't wanna do any thinking...)
"Never mind, it would be funny watching you walk around with a big fat smile on your face!"
"HmHehe" (a quiet sob, beautifully disguised as laughter. I was dying here! Mortifed I had just sobbed, albeit unnoticed and brief, I leaned against the wall)
"Well congratulations!"
"Aww thanks." (my most common phrase today)
(Like the stage directions?)
Firstly I was so not nervous it was starting unerve me, which in my brain was going completely ridiculous-probably the choice of words. So in my mind I was spinning round in circles. My inner child giggling.
Then, I could barely sleep last night so I decided to do my hair while I watched Flipside TV on channel 4 (its some show when they flick through all those mysterious channels on Digital. I found a new channel called The Horror Channel thanks to them. So watching that tonight-I need a laugh)
ell asleep about 3am, which was the latest I've been up in weeks. I of course then had the nightmare that has made my day.
In my dream, I was at work, but in another building-it was this nice cream coloured building on the ground floor by the 'High Street' (by that I mean where the off-licence is. Its a town of drunks) and I was on my own in the office and I was having a crap time of it, running around in my 3-inch heels and a dodgy half buttoned long sleeved top. Then, about midday in the dream I realised it was my results day, and that everyone else would have pissed off because we were supposed to meet at 9 am and they won't have missed me anyway. So I was running to the bus stop and some guy asked me for directions to Ealing Broadway, and I sent him to the bus going that way, becoming even later. I stared after him, and after a mintue I turned to walk to the other bus stop but I found I was wearing 3/4 sleeves, meaning that I my scars were in full view (I'm sure this is a metaphor of nudity). Then I was walking trying to hide my sleeves and everyone could see me and I was gasped and gaped at. I bumped into my cousin who said 'What on earth...?' and my dream ended.
The alarm rang.
So I rushed out of the door, and saw my good old school, CW, RC for the very last time. It was very pretty.
Just waiting, waiting for the results, in a small cue, waiting for Maria, who's always a little late. Then came Charlotte looking wasted and in good fashion. I vaguely remembered her saying she was going to arrange some big get-together, and that she never called. I forgot it again. It was only a little slip of paper, and it was all there, simply black and white and condesceding:
English lit - A
English lang - A*
Mathematics - B
Double Science - A/A
History - A
Religious Studies - A
Business Studies - A
French - B
Textiles - B
I was so, so disappointed (why, you cry!) I knew why, but no one could really understand it; they're fantastic results, and hey, I don't even know the margin. I should be over the moon, jumping over boulders and skipping like an agile Graham Norton (like so many straight guys all around me), but I felt terrible. It might have been breakfast-I found out way too late it was gone off, but then again gone off food had been following me around like a curse, so it didn't really imprint on my mind. Everyone was so happy with their results, and everyone was congratulating for deserved results. I couldn't help the breakdown and my thoughts which lead to carelessness and unrivalled hatred inside myself, attacking me. There was also Walk For Life, in which I raised £70 for people with HIV, the decent friend I've been, all the good poems I've written, my marvellous coping skills and I felt a tiny bit better.
Then, to better this feeling, Maria and her friends just decided to leave. We walked behind them but they didn't look back on us and no one asked me if they wanted to do something. Just walked off and I was left with Meg, before she left me too. Ash, came and went in a very quiet haze in his mum's car. Avril, his best friend at the end of the year, didn't mention him. Neither did anyone else, for that matter. You tend to forget that Ash is a loner at the best of times.
I think that my day is comfortably punctuated through conversations, with myself and other people.
The one that comes to mind was after everyone had left and I was on the bus to Ealing Broadway because I felt like buying a book and I wanted to disappear for a while. I almost burst into tears because I realised I got 7 A-A*s and not the 8 needed to be a candidate for NAGTY (national association for gifted and talented youth - a gov. scheme). Now I look back on it, its so stupid and I realise that I'm measuring myself up to standards that aren't individual to me at all-like a really badly made glove, its not one size fits all and I forgot it in the stab of depression. They're like little darts, the bastards.
So, I was getting off the bus when Aunty Audrey called me-I told her my results, she was very happy, pleased. Said 'she wasn't worried, I knew you'd do well.' All the while I was convincing myself to not to hit myself for the fifth time. Against a brick wall, next to temporary bus stop we talked:
"Are you happy with your results, then?"
"Yeah." (Blinking away tears)
"Where are you now?"
"I'm in Ealing Broadway"
"With all your friends, I bet!"
"Yeah" (digging nails into palms)
"Are you going to the cinema or are you going to each other's houses?"
"Nah, its just going to be quiet." (blinking, blinking, don't wanna do any thinking...)
"Never mind, it would be funny watching you walk around with a big fat smile on your face!"
"HmHehe" (a quiet sob, beautifully disguised as laughter. I was dying here! Mortifed I had just sobbed, albeit unnoticed and brief, I leaned against the wall)
"Well congratulations!"
"Aww thanks." (my most common phrase today)
(Like the stage directions?)
I hated the fact everyone thought I'd have something planned, like a drink or a fun night out or just having friends round, when I'm on my own, very alone, very frustrated on the internet when everyone else is doing something. They all sound disappointed that I've barely acted like a teenager-or how I feel. It's strange, cos because I've gotten the best I'm officially the cleverest in the family and they don't know I cut and it feels so surreal, because if they knew maybe they'd understand why I believe its not a big deal.
I just talked to my Grandparents, and they're really proud of me. They so believed I was fine, and Grandad was actually a little worried, which made the results so much for him and me more grateful that people like me for some reason. It made like my results and I think when in Richmond I meet people and they ask about my results and they ask if I'm happy (if they don't squeal) then I would say I am and be honest about it. I plan to be very honest this year. As much as possible..I've lied so much to so many people that the Real Me, whoever that was disappeared under a smoke screen. Then I changed and that other person who everyone saw except me changed forever and that hidden Me was my true persona since year 9 and I really wanted to understand myself better. Of course, this changes if people ask about the sleeves, but they wouldn't really until summer, if its hot and I can rely on good old British weather to help me out in that department.
I did buy a book (called Middlesex, and so far I think its brilliant. It won the 2003 Pulitzer prize, soit had credentials as well) and take out the next series of fearless so I'll be reading a lot. I'm leaving my job on Tuesday, so I'll have more time to write and prepare myself for college in two weeks time. I just need a shield to bat away those bastardly depression darts. We'll see.
I just talked to my Grandparents, and they're really proud of me. They so believed I was fine, and Grandad was actually a little worried, which made the results so much for him and me more grateful that people like me for some reason. It made like my results and I think when in Richmond I meet people and they ask about my results and they ask if I'm happy (if they don't squeal) then I would say I am and be honest about it. I plan to be very honest this year. As much as possible..I've lied so much to so many people that the Real Me, whoever that was disappeared under a smoke screen. Then I changed and that other person who everyone saw except me changed forever and that hidden Me was my true persona since year 9 and I really wanted to understand myself better. Of course, this changes if people ask about the sleeves, but they wouldn't really until summer, if its hot and I can rely on good old British weather to help me out in that department.
I did buy a book (called Middlesex, and so far I think its brilliant. It won the 2003 Pulitzer prize, soit had credentials as well) and take out the next series of fearless so I'll be reading a lot. I'm leaving my job on Tuesday, so I'll have more time to write and prepare myself for college in two weeks time. I just need a shield to bat away those bastardly depression darts. We'll see.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Things You Shouldn't Do When You're Tired
This would be a long running list. I hardly ever sleep-most nights I end going to sleep around 1am after listening to an album (namely Beth Orton) or reading a great book (still Tipping the Velvet) or resisting a mad urge to lose all my friends by phoning them for an animated chat 2 in the morning. I'm full of humour and fabulous ancedotes and I have no one to share it with.
This is me! when I'm not miserable, isn't it nice?
Okay, its just that since I'm tired all the time, I do a lot of different things that are in fact, stupid. Its either that or I'm being an A* idiot and I'm blaming on insomnia. Think of it as being a really annoying Christian.
In a sentence, its a compilation of all the stupid things people do, its just that tiredness is either an issue, or an excuse!
You have to learn from all your mistakes. Its just that some are so ridiculous and so hilarious you HAVE to write them down. And so it begins:
This is me! when I'm not miserable, isn't it nice?
Okay, its just that since I'm tired all the time, I do a lot of different things that are in fact, stupid. Its either that or I'm being an A* idiot and I'm blaming on insomnia. Think of it as being a really annoying Christian.
In a sentence, its a compilation of all the stupid things people do, its just that tiredness is either an issue, or an excuse!
You have to learn from all your mistakes. Its just that some are so ridiculous and so hilarious you HAVE to write them down. And so it begins:
Things You Really Shouldn't Do When You're Tired (part 1!):
- Drive Heavy Machinery
- Decide to watch indie movies instead of sleeping when you're already tired
- Mis-number lists
- Email your best, straight, taken friend to tell her 'You're hot, duh!'
- Do any exams. Especially GCSEs which is the basic qualification for any job you do, and therefore, a massive percentage of self-worth
- Forget how to spell 'Paedriatic' (yay!)
- Forget that a week this Saturday would be the 4th, not the 9th
- Force themselves to go to a very popular poetry night as a virgin
- Fall in love with said best friend
- Sit back and watch all your numeracy skills go to pot
- Forget how to spell 'Remember' (thankfully this didn't happen to me as I am the spelling queen)
- Use a frying pan (for whatever reason. Be it fulfilling a crime, a paint palette, fashion wear, or actual cookery)
- Being stubborn-this goes into so many things and may be repeated. Today, this means deciding to read Draco slash! instead of watching Nip/Tuck on Channel 4.
Thats all for now. Go on, if you have any extra stupid you have done today you're gonna blame on tiredness, ergo removing responisbly for those beautfil 'Stupid, stupid' thangs, post in the comments box! Love ya...wish me luck for tomorrow-my GCSE results are out and I'm not 'too' nervous. Good luck to everyone else! We will fail together...
Monday, August 23, 2004
Olympics
Woo-hoo!!! Kelly Holmes has won at last! (Thinks of obscure jazz song). I've loved her for ages, and I've always knew she'd get ahead because not only from one glance at her stomach you could tell she'd knock you out, she has brains too. She ran that race like a genius-she read the group and figured her own ending. And hey, it paid dividends. Congrats to her! Too bad about Mutolo-she got out of the medals completely (4th place, which is the worst place ever, anywhere). And, she looks a lot like my old RE teacher and my friend's mother so I like her even more...
New coping method-putting thumbnail between teeth. Every time my brother tries to sound superior or just does-not-shut-up while I'm reading on the web and I put my thumbnail between my teeth. It reminds of Romeo and Juliet, Act 1 Scene 1 in the brawl between the minor characters-its this line saying 'I bit my thumb at you, sir!' which back was like giving the finger. So, of course I do it, think of the line and a big fucking smile spreads on my face as I think of Shakespearean poetry which is infinitely technical and beautiful. Problem is, I'm gonna get a massive gap in my front teeth.
I've been knackered all day. Its my period's fault. It actually came through my skirt and I had to stay sitting for as much as possible and eat loads of chocolate...it has helped, slightly.
Last night was strange. I kept thinking about suicide, and it drove me the other way. I found this site which was pro-suicide and I couldn't stop thinking about it. But, it made me think about it. Really think about it. And I came to a clear and utter conlcusion: that I love life. Its just that I don't like mine so much. They asked questions, talking about suicide in such a clear cut way I could really consider it, not just those moments...
And it asked if I was to commit suicide, would it be a passionate moment of helplessness beyond painful, or a calm, cold hearted decision which took weeks to execute perfectly? I knew, and I realised I really wouldn't kill myself. I'm a 'hypocrite' as they call me. I remembered a line in Fearless (number 13?) in the same book Ella died, and she was face to face with some assassin, and it said something about the coldness on the assassin's face, and realised she was in real trouble. So I'm not suicidal. Just desperate, and that can change easily.
Also, I spent half the night reading my text messages and my Best Of Beth Orton album. Pretty much all of them were from Nik and Alice and they were so bright-its the only way I could describe and I actually cried with happiness. I've never done that and recently, I thought it would never happen. But I'm weaker than I thought!
Ooh, and I found something I was typing up for this blog while my internet cut out. It was about my coming:
This blog entry is for me, and me alone. Its just that ever since the Storm (yes, its notorious among me now) the internet has cut out and I can’t do anything about it. So here is my premature entry, as I wait for my dad to take heed. Also, I hope to put in an entry before I go off to Cumbria next week. I’m starting to slowly realise I am the luckiest girl in the planet this week. My coming out went so much better (but blander) than any other coming out I’ve ever dreamt of. He knew. He knew for 3 months. And he still loves me, he accepts it and there are ‘no problems at all…should there be?’ The words a scared lesbian dreams of hearing, but it never really happens to them. I dreamed Dad would at first be blinded, but eventually would accept it. It would follow his nature. Right then, he was acting totally out of character, and I ave no idea who this man is who’s loving me completely for who I am. Who accepted that I have a girlfriend (even though I don’t…bah)
Kinda dopey, isn't it? I look back through my old entries. I've been through a bad patch, thats what depression is all about. But if you lose all sense of perecption then, my, my you're a goner. Gotta go, I have to choose some poetry for the 2nd...I think I'm nuts! Anyways, I haven't had any comments for ages-I wanna hear what you think of me...
New coping method-putting thumbnail between teeth. Every time my brother tries to sound superior or just does-not-shut-up while I'm reading on the web and I put my thumbnail between my teeth. It reminds of Romeo and Juliet, Act 1 Scene 1 in the brawl between the minor characters-its this line saying 'I bit my thumb at you, sir!' which back was like giving the finger. So, of course I do it, think of the line and a big fucking smile spreads on my face as I think of Shakespearean poetry which is infinitely technical and beautiful. Problem is, I'm gonna get a massive gap in my front teeth.
I've been knackered all day. Its my period's fault. It actually came through my skirt and I had to stay sitting for as much as possible and eat loads of chocolate...it has helped, slightly.
Last night was strange. I kept thinking about suicide, and it drove me the other way. I found this site which was pro-suicide and I couldn't stop thinking about it. But, it made me think about it. Really think about it. And I came to a clear and utter conlcusion: that I love life. Its just that I don't like mine so much. They asked questions, talking about suicide in such a clear cut way I could really consider it, not just those moments...
And it asked if I was to commit suicide, would it be a passionate moment of helplessness beyond painful, or a calm, cold hearted decision which took weeks to execute perfectly? I knew, and I realised I really wouldn't kill myself. I'm a 'hypocrite' as they call me. I remembered a line in Fearless (number 13?) in the same book Ella died, and she was face to face with some assassin, and it said something about the coldness on the assassin's face, and realised she was in real trouble. So I'm not suicidal. Just desperate, and that can change easily.
Also, I spent half the night reading my text messages and my Best Of Beth Orton album. Pretty much all of them were from Nik and Alice and they were so bright-its the only way I could describe and I actually cried with happiness. I've never done that and recently, I thought it would never happen. But I'm weaker than I thought!
Ooh, and I found something I was typing up for this blog while my internet cut out. It was about my coming:
This blog entry is for me, and me alone. Its just that ever since the Storm (yes, its notorious among me now) the internet has cut out and I can’t do anything about it. So here is my premature entry, as I wait for my dad to take heed. Also, I hope to put in an entry before I go off to Cumbria next week. I’m starting to slowly realise I am the luckiest girl in the planet this week. My coming out went so much better (but blander) than any other coming out I’ve ever dreamt of. He knew. He knew for 3 months. And he still loves me, he accepts it and there are ‘no problems at all…should there be?’ The words a scared lesbian dreams of hearing, but it never really happens to them. I dreamed Dad would at first be blinded, but eventually would accept it. It would follow his nature. Right then, he was acting totally out of character, and I ave no idea who this man is who’s loving me completely for who I am. Who accepted that I have a girlfriend (even though I don’t…bah)
Kinda dopey, isn't it? I look back through my old entries. I've been through a bad patch, thats what depression is all about. But if you lose all sense of perecption then, my, my you're a goner. Gotta go, I have to choose some poetry for the 2nd...I think I'm nuts! Anyways, I haven't had any comments for ages-I wanna hear what you think of me...
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Religion
My day started at midday and finished at 8pm-I spent the day in Childrens Express, taking part in some focus group in which I had no idea what I doing, so i just played along. Later, I met up with James, a friend of mine to find out he got ABBD in his AS-levels and we celebrated quietly. Then, I started my Project Subway thing. I haven't got all the details, but its basically a journalism course that should lead to work experience which I've gotten a bigger passion for lately.
On the way home, I met one my mystery 'Bus buddies'. I have a whole truckload of them. On the journey home and one the journey you're two different people, because your day never goes how you expect it to, and the emotions are all tied up. Before you get home, all these emotions play up on your face because hey, your friends never get the same bus as you. Its kinda your place, except for the strangers you're sharing with.
Anyways, one of my buddies is this very 'black' Christian woman with morals of a Jamacian grandmother. She thinks I'm a believer for some reason, I'm not entirely sure why. We met on my doorstop. She was posting out her views of the lord and I was bored so I let her speak. She's really nice and I always wonder when, if ever I'm gonna throw my hands up and tell her I don't believe in God and I don't think I ever will. Before it was because i wasn't bothered to defend myself, now I don't want her to not like me. Technically I'm an atheist because I don't believe in God, and I don't really think he's there. However, last night, recently, well ever since i read this interview by Philip Pullman! I've realised that there's no way I can so presumptuous and narrow-minded to think there can't possibly be a God. How could I ever know? He doesn't interfere with our lives because he gave humans licence to dictate their own lives. Strange things happen and fate fucks around with us like a Rampant Rabbit. Wouldn't it be so easy, and nice to imagine another world where you have a Get Out of Jail Free card, a perfect role model, a perfect secret and an unwavering solid definition of what life is supposed to be all about. It's delicious, isn't it?
But not for me.
I take pride in the fact this my own life, and this what my parents and science gave me. I like the fact that sometimes science doensn't make sense and in fact there's something underhand at this point. A life without mystery is a life not worth living, if you ask me. And just as well I couldn't possibly determine that there is no God, religious people have no right to break their own religious laws because they can't imagine a world without Dieties/a Diety. Who can say? Who can tell? No one! Absolutely no one! And certainly not the Pope or Dalai Lama or any other leaders of religion because they're the silliest of them all. C'est ridicule. We all need to understand that all our individual knowledge is nothing than a pebble on a long widing pathway of life and living. Of course, that one conspicuous pebble, may be the one you pick up and hold with you for eternity. But it can just as well be the pebble next to you, because its brighter, or redder or slightly rounder and it reminds you of your mother's face. You can never determine something as big and mysterious as that, let alone live with it without ever wondering about it. So I call myself Agnostic, or Agneist, because I think its the most logical state of belief, if I am right. I'm not tearing myself apart, I'm not a coward who worried too much about choosing, I simply decide not to.
Anyway, the Christian was at my bus stop with her grandson, her face without wrinkles looking as if she was 45, if it wasn't for the grey streams that didn't betray her. At Childrens Express, religion came up, and they were saying there were Christian or Catholic and I couldn't decipher the difference, despite being in Catholic education since I was 6 (probably because of that). So I asked her, and she said that Christianity is the religion where you sing or cry n church, right in front of God because you're so alive! And that Catholicism is all kneepads, gold, jewellery and silence and its not as real and is simply more threatening. All I can see, I ended up asking in some way why Christianity was better than Catholicsm. She told me a story of how God supported her through some court case where she just said she would some £85,000 settlement and she no money. But she said her heart felt so much lighter, because it wasn't her money (God inspires to work, she says) and somehow everything came together and she managed to pay the money. Just paragraph in a life.
Now, I have to go and work at Oxfam and buy some things from Tesco. My Dad has gone to Athens for the Olympics and he's gone for 10 days, meaning he's going to miss my GCSE results and he'll have to hear them over the phone. And miss my hair appointment-I'm gonna get some red extensions-I've wanted this for years now and I'm finally able to get them!! This morning, just as he was out of the door, and it shut and the house was stonily silent, I realised I was going to miss him a little. And a real smile played on my face.
Below, is a description of what I think of my family. I was depressed last night, so I may be a little biased. Read, if you wanna.
When I think about my family isn't too bad. It's just the fact I'm so distant from we might as well be living in three separate houses. My brother has bullied me in some way or other since I was tiny and thus I avoid him as much as possible and I'm horrible to him. From him I learnt how to lose friends and alienate people. I always make up some lie cos he keeps asking me questions all the time and I don't trust him one little bit and I think part of me is scared of him cos I know I will never ever ever talk to him about anything spiritual and deep ever cos I don't trust him. He has the ability to ruin my entire day, he makes me feel like the smallest person in the entire world.
I don't know my mum. I see her all the time, and I don't see her as a mother-she's more of a family friend, just a friend to me. We get on well, but her religion has ruined part of our friendship forever. I know that nothing we ever do I will see as overly important or building. I love her, but I don't know her very well and I don't feel the need to even though she's sorry for leaving my family for her religion.
Dad-I've never been so distant from him. The coming out, instead of bringing us closer, has driven us so far apart I'm not sure if I'll ever bne able to bridge that gap. It was the fact he didn't understand that it is a big deal, and that he didn't think comparing gay people to paedophiles wouldn't have caused us any damage. The rest of my family-we're all quite close, but I never tell them anything. I just don't. I don't bother. I feel the need to censor myself all the time because I don't feel safe because I DON'T KNOW THEM. And I'm not sure I could ever change that. So really, my family isn't dysfunctional: they're happy and close-knit and financially ok-its me who is the anomaly.
On the way home, I met one my mystery 'Bus buddies'. I have a whole truckload of them. On the journey home and one the journey you're two different people, because your day never goes how you expect it to, and the emotions are all tied up. Before you get home, all these emotions play up on your face because hey, your friends never get the same bus as you. Its kinda your place, except for the strangers you're sharing with.
Anyways, one of my buddies is this very 'black' Christian woman with morals of a Jamacian grandmother. She thinks I'm a believer for some reason, I'm not entirely sure why. We met on my doorstop. She was posting out her views of the lord and I was bored so I let her speak. She's really nice and I always wonder when, if ever I'm gonna throw my hands up and tell her I don't believe in God and I don't think I ever will. Before it was because i wasn't bothered to defend myself, now I don't want her to not like me. Technically I'm an atheist because I don't believe in God, and I don't really think he's there. However, last night, recently, well ever since i read this interview by Philip Pullman! I've realised that there's no way I can so presumptuous and narrow-minded to think there can't possibly be a God. How could I ever know? He doesn't interfere with our lives because he gave humans licence to dictate their own lives. Strange things happen and fate fucks around with us like a Rampant Rabbit. Wouldn't it be so easy, and nice to imagine another world where you have a Get Out of Jail Free card, a perfect role model, a perfect secret and an unwavering solid definition of what life is supposed to be all about. It's delicious, isn't it?
But not for me.
I take pride in the fact this my own life, and this what my parents and science gave me. I like the fact that sometimes science doensn't make sense and in fact there's something underhand at this point. A life without mystery is a life not worth living, if you ask me. And just as well I couldn't possibly determine that there is no God, religious people have no right to break their own religious laws because they can't imagine a world without Dieties/a Diety. Who can say? Who can tell? No one! Absolutely no one! And certainly not the Pope or Dalai Lama or any other leaders of religion because they're the silliest of them all. C'est ridicule. We all need to understand that all our individual knowledge is nothing than a pebble on a long widing pathway of life and living. Of course, that one conspicuous pebble, may be the one you pick up and hold with you for eternity. But it can just as well be the pebble next to you, because its brighter, or redder or slightly rounder and it reminds you of your mother's face. You can never determine something as big and mysterious as that, let alone live with it without ever wondering about it. So I call myself Agnostic, or Agneist, because I think its the most logical state of belief, if I am right. I'm not tearing myself apart, I'm not a coward who worried too much about choosing, I simply decide not to.
Anyway, the Christian was at my bus stop with her grandson, her face without wrinkles looking as if she was 45, if it wasn't for the grey streams that didn't betray her. At Childrens Express, religion came up, and they were saying there were Christian or Catholic and I couldn't decipher the difference, despite being in Catholic education since I was 6 (probably because of that). So I asked her, and she said that Christianity is the religion where you sing or cry n church, right in front of God because you're so alive! And that Catholicism is all kneepads, gold, jewellery and silence and its not as real and is simply more threatening. All I can see, I ended up asking in some way why Christianity was better than Catholicsm. She told me a story of how God supported her through some court case where she just said she would some £85,000 settlement and she no money. But she said her heart felt so much lighter, because it wasn't her money (God inspires to work, she says) and somehow everything came together and she managed to pay the money. Just paragraph in a life.
Now, I have to go and work at Oxfam and buy some things from Tesco. My Dad has gone to Athens for the Olympics and he's gone for 10 days, meaning he's going to miss my GCSE results and he'll have to hear them over the phone. And miss my hair appointment-I'm gonna get some red extensions-I've wanted this for years now and I'm finally able to get them!! This morning, just as he was out of the door, and it shut and the house was stonily silent, I realised I was going to miss him a little. And a real smile played on my face.
Below, is a description of what I think of my family. I was depressed last night, so I may be a little biased. Read, if you wanna.
When I think about my family isn't too bad. It's just the fact I'm so distant from we might as well be living in three separate houses. My brother has bullied me in some way or other since I was tiny and thus I avoid him as much as possible and I'm horrible to him. From him I learnt how to lose friends and alienate people. I always make up some lie cos he keeps asking me questions all the time and I don't trust him one little bit and I think part of me is scared of him cos I know I will never ever ever talk to him about anything spiritual and deep ever cos I don't trust him. He has the ability to ruin my entire day, he makes me feel like the smallest person in the entire world.
I don't know my mum. I see her all the time, and I don't see her as a mother-she's more of a family friend, just a friend to me. We get on well, but her religion has ruined part of our friendship forever. I know that nothing we ever do I will see as overly important or building. I love her, but I don't know her very well and I don't feel the need to even though she's sorry for leaving my family for her religion.
Dad-I've never been so distant from him. The coming out, instead of bringing us closer, has driven us so far apart I'm not sure if I'll ever bne able to bridge that gap. It was the fact he didn't understand that it is a big deal, and that he didn't think comparing gay people to paedophiles wouldn't have caused us any damage. The rest of my family-we're all quite close, but I never tell them anything. I just don't. I don't bother. I feel the need to censor myself all the time because I don't feel safe because I DON'T KNOW THEM. And I'm not sure I could ever change that. So really, my family isn't dysfunctional: they're happy and close-knit and financially ok-its me who is the anomaly.
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Way To Fall
Snaps of lyrics from Starsailor's Way To Fall
****
Oh, I got something in my throat
I need to be alone,
While I suffer
****
Son, you've a way to kill
They're picking on your skin
But they don't know
Son, you better wait to shout
They'll tell you what is wrong
But they take my
Oh, there's a hole inside my boat.
I need to stay afloat,
For the summer.
****
I'm just tired, really. Long day at work, wet from a sudden storm, and my hair is a mess. I won't eat. I refuse to eat right now, because I need to discipline myself better. I have to stop cutting...I'm starting to run out of room on my left arm. The only places clear are the bits just above my elbow. At work I put on my flowery, floaty top for some reason and I had to my arm in all sorts of ways to make sure they didn't see. I didn't have to worry about my right because it's so clear of scars. It was perfect veneer of weakness. I've started writing more again. I really wasn't writing nnearly enough, and I still got the backlog of 10 poems to write up. I was reading back on a couple of them, and one I wrote last night, and its helped me see I've been in deep with Her (yes, its Her now) for a while, if not...I don't when it started, but I had some idea of it in May 2003 when we did some, er, stuff. (I'mnothungryI'mnothungryI'mnothungry).
I'm just down, a normal downer people have all the time after long tiring days, but I can't even recognise those anymore. You forget that depressed people do feel natural, non-'diseased' downers. It isn't fair. I don't care if I sound like 15 year, 11 month old teenager, unlike the more sophisticated 16 year, 2 month old counterpart. Ah, thank goodness. The hunger is starting to ease off. i used to do this all the time when I was 12, to punish myself, or to control myself, when I was on 'Fat Days' - which were all the time, mind you, I couldn't stand my bulk. And still I piled on the weight. I'm hopeless at anorexia. A lot of the time, I wonder if thats a good thing.
The sky outside reflects my mood: Grey with streaks of dreamy faraway blue. Right now, what I want more than anything is to just talk forever, like this line in Lucas by Kevin Brooks : "Don't stop! Never Stop! Just keep running...forever..." (something like that). The ivy walls beside me are glittered with drops of water. When I was walking home i could feel my relief drowning in rain water when the sun burst of nowhere. It nearly blinded me. Immediately I looked round, shielding my eyes, for that rainbow. It never came. Then a quote came at me: 'It takes both sunshine and rain to make a rainbow' - I don't know who's it is, but its one of the signatures at GYUK. You just have to remember that the sky, life and nature is like an oil pastel painting, if I'm correct.
Monday, August 16, 2004
Let Me Explain
If I tried to tell you everything that has happened in the last two weeks my head will simply spin in astonishment in the huge contrasts my life is bearing down upon me. I'm afraid I'll have to use bullet points:
- Came out to Dad: after a long gorgeous storm that flooded my town, I told Dad and he has no problem with it. In fact, he says he already knew I was gay for three months. I feel like the stupidest person in the world for some reason, and it hasn't done anything I thought it would. It hasn't made me feel better, or more comfortable with Dad about this. And also the fact that Dad doesn't realise why I didn't tell him for ages because he's been homophobic and he didn't-still doesn't-realise how much that hurt me, how much it tore me from my own father. And he doesn't understand. And now, even when he knows I'm gay, I feel he understands me even less.
- I kissed my best friend. You see, she's in love with her boyfriend. And I'm not kidding, and I'm a cynic, and she is in love with her boyfriend. And I think I'm falling for her. I'm never sure. You see, we were just watching TV last Friday and we were cuddled up like we usually are when we're alone together and seriously, somehow, our faces shifted closer together, and our noses touched, and then I had to kiss her. She kissed me back. It was the most natural thing in the world. I felt as if I was floating and this wasn't my first snog and I had been kissing her forever. I remember the last thing she said: 'You know I'm not stringing you along, OK?' Really softly, right on my face. And now, I only want to kiss her again and it hurts and it sucks and I need to talk, analyse about this before I go crazy. Its the only thing I can think about. And she's talking about marrying this guy and having kids and how hard it is not to have sex with him (She's saving herself till marriage). She says its a way of expressing our love. Maybe it is, maybe thats all I will only see it as: My best friend, my soulmate-the person I am most comfortable, I have kisses with.
EDIT (6:54 pm) : Now, after a bit of analysing, I realised that the best thing for me to do right now is SHUT UP. I don't know why, but it didn't occur to me that because I'm the other woman, the 'aggressor', that I would lose my friends. I'm the lesbian here, and my best friend is the perfect, lovely angel who would never hurt anybody. I'm the only person who knows she is human. I'm not bitching, I'm just more angry with myself than anything else. So, either to shout out or shut it....
Also, I'm dog tired. I'm trying to watch the Olympics :D (Gymnastics is on tonight!!!!) and reading more slash (yeah baby!) and loving the
Friday, August 13, 2004
Hi
My heart will be broken. My best friend, my soulmate, is going to kill me. I'll write more later.
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