Re-Enrollment

Today had turned out better than I expected. It was just supposed to be a re-enrollment at college and later on a "celebration dinner" with my LGB (lesbian, gay, bisexual) group. It was a hot sticky day and the bus was twenty minutes late yet I still managed to get there on time. As I was waiting (with my current book, Middlesex by Eugenides - for serious readers only) a guy passed me on his bicycle with a fully grown, live python worn round his neck. I think it touched me! All I could do was stare at him open-mouthed as he cruised past me down the road.

Anyway, re-enrollment was long, and I felt guiltily good about my results as students in front and behind me were talking about their E's while I had my 3 A's and my B. Re enrolling is basically re-confirming your place in college and finally registering what you're going to do - all very important when these will be your big subjects! Everything ended up going easily, I saw some of my brother's friends from his job which was random and I also recieved some good news. I'm going to do four full A levels, which I've heard is kinda like torture, but I can't bring myself to drop Classical Civilisation as it's going to be really interesting this year. The enrolling dude told me that if I wanted to I wouldn't have to work too hard. I could come to the class and follow-through, or something. Just to basically listen in. As long as my three A's in History, Politics and English I could get a U and wouldn't do anything to my Uni chances. I wasn't expecting it at all so I love it! I've always wanted to just sit in a class I enjoy without all that pressure.

Anyway, I bumped into my friend Andrew, who despite I still barely know has been one of my oldest steady friends. He's just spent this amazing summer working in Nice with this guy who paid for his dance lessons, riding jet skis to serve the rich, sharing a villa for 77 Euros a week. He said he would do it like a year ago and he actually did it, just raising my spirits like that, and he's dong Twilight photography this year. Sounds daunting but he's already done the work and he's going to ace it easily. He was so sad last year and now he's getting this beautiful new start.

I felt like re-starting too. Me and the LGB group went to Pizza Express and just socialised. I was talking to Girl Who Reminds Me of Ex and I felt I could easily just lean in and kiss her. Especially with chocolate in her mouth (we shared a chocolate sundae), but this is a very lesbian thing - you end up fancying all of your friends, but they don't fancy you that much. Or maybe thats me. Anyway, I felt I got something back all through the evening, and as we all parted and I kissed her - aimed for her cheeks but she got all surprised and I got her lips. Reminds me just having someone I can just kiss and not feel guilty about. But nothing's going to happen. She's just turned 15 and she has a girlfriend, and is in the closet and I don't want to go through that again, really.

Also, this guy there started talking about how innocent I looked. I couldn't protest much: I was wearing my dreamy turquoise top, with black lace "gloves" (there's just tights I just cut holes in - honestly! Next time I'll say I got them from Camden for a fiver) and my favourite skirt of all time: my yellow, airy long gypsy skirt with flowers and green stripes and I haven't seen anyone else wear it either, so it feels like mine mine mine. I don't think I'm innocent at all. He said there was something of the Religious in me (dear god!), but've had that said about me, that I'm strangely calming, that something sort of...oh, spiritual comes out of me, but I don't experience that at all! I wish I could, cos I could really do with it. Hell, I got him to call me Miss Jesus so the day hasn't gone to waste, hehe.

Afterwards, I pledged to see Matt again on Friday, I've got a picnic tomorrow, then a family thing on Saturday and I'm finally seeing Charlie and the Chocolate factory on Monday. College starts Friday. Oh, and I told one of my college friends about my cutting problem. She then promptly told me that she just couldn't see it in me and is going to do some spells for me to relieve depression. I am truly touched.

So, less pressure (so far), extra socialising (when I went to college I hadn't even gone out with my friends for three months. I just couldn't do it.), supportive friends (at last) and no matter how things will go, I'm destined for university somehow (I'm dying to start up my own business - you know that!). I really feel I can move on, maybe even change a little. Just to prepare myself for a new start next year, perhaps.

Alone with poetry

Yesterday was a good day. Me and Mum got drunk together and we shared my room, she hadto sleep on the floor cos we were too drunk to blow up the blow-up bed. It was funny. The next day I showed the delights of Kingston high street and we gushed over Lush, this perfect shop full of handmade soaps that look like cake and have magical contraptions like shower jellies and the original bath bombs that make your skin smooth. We then went to this three story bookshop and I showed her the delights of Haruki Murakami who I rave on about to anyone who'll listen because the man's a genius.

I hate eating. Yet I get hungry. It's a natural instinct, yet I feel betrayed everytime someone makes food for me. It's as if - You know I don't want to eat!? Can't you hear me retching at whatever godforsaken time?! Damn You!!! And its really hard, it almost makes me cry. I guess I'm at a delicate stage in my life. I have nothing to do, so all I do is drink. It makes going through the day much easier. Makes the day speed past just a little bit more, because all I want to do is keep racing throgh so I cannot contemplate how I'm ruining my life. I think about it everytime I blog. Like, how many days in my life, like today have been wasted like this? Just wanting to escape. Wanting to sleep in until August, September, Christmas, Deathday. Whats all of this doing to me right now? Silly me. There's nothing I can do about it. And anyways, I just wanted to post a poem. Maybe someone will comment now. Or maybe no one cares about the schizophrenic bulimic depressed self harming "gifted" virgin 17 year old black lesbian poet. Each year I get more of a mouthful. I used to be just Betty. Now I don't know me anymore and hide behind adjectives.

How strong minds fail. Here's a poemI wrote, like, 20 minutes ago. It hasn't even been edited. My inspiration was Pete Doherty, so I guess the rough, edgy shit is in some sort of tribute even I don't put him up on some pedestal at all. Just respect, self destructive poet to self destructive poet.

I call this poem... Not Only The World (Stands for News Of The World) Please comment or bitch or something this time.

Here you are you fuckers
Here's exactly what you paid for
You begged and begged didn't you
Always clawing at me for more.

Well, did you get exactly what you wanted?
Was I perfect enough for you?
Did I smile enough, was I off the cuff
Should I have sworn a bit more?

Cos I'm trying not to care about what you think,

I'm trying to prick my peak
And have all the talent bleed out of me,
It'll be cool to burn out bright,
To black out and leave society in darkness
I'd like to remembered, something like that.
Perhaps.

Instead everyone sees my fuck ups
No one cares, or they laugh.
Mostly they've already looked away
I'm a failure I'm full of temper
My talk just crept up on ya
And you patted me on the head
And said I was real.
Something special.
Slighty gifted, maybe even talented.
Where's the love?
Why wasn't I enough?
I'll guess I'll just have to toughen up
And you won't hear from me anymore.

I don't care about pricking my peak now
I'll just let my blood screw the floor.
And I can leave this world in desperate self delusion
That I left you begging for more.

Secret's Out

I have a few secrets for you.

Secret 1: Firstly, I'm drinking whiskey and coke at three in the afternoon. But this is for a very good reason. My mother is coming over. I love her, but I wanted to get over myself first and see a friend who's going to Sheffield, and it may be the last time I see him. Also, mum is sleeping over in my room and I don't know if I'm comfortable with that, since I have all my razors and my sick bucket etc so close by. I'll also have to wear long sleeves and hope she doesn't get nosy or some sort of motherly instinct even though we haven't seen each other since the 1st of June.

Secret 2: I've been hating myself a lot recently. So much so I'm lethargic, and I hardly ever leave my room. I can't get to sleep anytime before 2am and my Dad keeps waking me at 8 cos he thinks I'm just lazy. I've been feeling a lot of social anxiety. Honestly, it comes in from time to time but I hate it because I don't think it's me. In reality, I love being with my close friends talking about anything and everything be it on some vanilla sleepover or in a lesbian strip club drinking Manhattans (or something). Like yesterday was GCSE results day and one of my friends wanted to go the pub. I was in a really bad way. I wasn't up to leaving my bedroom, let alone out of the house and onto two buses to get drunk at a pub (and I feel nervous around pubs, like some kind of long gone racial residue). I lied - I said my cousin got mugged to get him away, and I'm quite embarrassed as he's a nice guy and I keep blowing him off. I don't know why I feel so ugly (OK...where did that come from?)

I just hate, detest, loathe secrets - telling secrets. I have secrets and demons for every day of my life. Keeping secrets is my nature because it's my world, my mind and I prefer to keep people out of it (most of the time; its a nasty world). So if I'm not telling you something, don't be offended - I simply can't afford to. But I just can't keep this one quiet cos I don't know what to do with it - whether to put it away into my mind. To embrace it fully or shoot it dead.

I might be schizophrenic. It's self diagnostic. I used to think I was the mother of the world, with the ability to destroy the world very easily (before you panic realise I don't think like that anymore). I was ready to kill at 13. I've been hallucinating ad hearing things for nearly all my life. Social anxiety and this pathetic apathetic lethargy has re-occurring since I was born. It's not too un-obvious. If you know me (well not so easy) and check up the symptons it won't surprise you.

Another secret: I'm terrified that I am going to disappear into some crazy person. I'm going mad with worry in case I do become that delusional person again and I won't be able to hide it. I heard anti-psychotics and definite hospitalisation (considering I'm hurting myself)and I've been freaking out. Any my mum is coming over and I don't know if I can hide away from her for long.

Secret: The drink is not enough and I don't know what to do.

Miss Mistress

Today I've been mainly checking up on other blogs and reading through them - Waiterrant's new site (which is fabby), Overworked and Underfucked (which is bloody hil-AR-ious at the moment), Lioness, CarpeDM etc. I've been home alone all day with the laptop all to myself, tired of being nagged and hassled. I then realised that if I just hoovered the living room I could blog all night, so I got to it.

Problem, vacuuming tends to stretch my soul more than exercise ever should. There's something so 50's Style denial ridden about mincing around with this spider-killer that repulses me about hoovers than anything else. And, I hate it more when they don't work and end up trashing them. I hoover so little this doesn't matter, but since money is tight I have to be careful and when this supid hoover messes up I spy my Dad's stairmistress. To me its the piller of godliness - clothes horse, muscle maker and elegant looking all at once, its a brilliant machine to help you get fit. Dad won't let me use it for some reason (no reason since he doesn't know about my problems), but today it was to be all mine. I had been waiting to use it for months. Throwing down the vacuum and turning up The White Stripes I pounced on it and started grooving. Much to my horror I couldn't last long on it. My asthma came back to me and my leg muscles were screaming after like 2 minutes and I had to grab some coke. It came back to me with a jolt that my generation was to be the first to die before their parents, and I could see it clearer than how any teenager is supposed to understand death.

But it still surprised me. Even though I'm size 18 I'm as fit, or fitter than most of my size 8 friends. I'm also a bit of an exercise freak when I get going, or when I'm in really bad places. I've exercised till I've blacked out, vomited or collapsed. I'm used to exercising for two hours after half past midnight. It's a bulumic badge to have endurance in the stupidest of forms. Yet being "ok", I couldn't do the stairmistress for more than five minutes. I can feel the bulumia monster rearing up again. I have to master the stairmistress, and get off my lazy arse before my Dad does something about it. Now I have to go and make dinner like I'm perfect or something. Sorry for the substand blog post, nothing is happening!!

Guess Who's back online!!!

Hey, hello, I'm back online! I know, I've been gone for way too long. I want to describe everything in my life cos it's been a WEIRD summer. After all:

• I've put on weight (boohoo I'm going to start cycling!)
• I got AAAB in my AS results in what was a really good day in the end, despite Ria not doing so well, but hell, it happens. For me, it means I have a real good chance of getting into Oxford (if I want to go, of course)
• I had my two weeks at the National Portrait Gallery. It was a couple of weeks after the bombings so there was police everywhere, sniffer dogs, nervous passengers and general paranoia but I had such a great time! I met the director, who was completely charming, the editor of their publishing house who I had a good chat with over grammar and commas cos I'm sad that way. We did a general critique of the place and they really appreciated and I hope to come back and see them so very soon.

Gosh (ahh!) I feel so energised-knackered. I feel quite lost with this laptop (Mmm-hm! I have wrangled a lovely little laptop and its all mine!) and I feel as if I'm blogging again for the first time to be honest. Will I be the same? Well I'm not the same. I still have my problems but I'm acknowledging them. I have gained the privilege of going to any university and doing whatever course in my hearts desire. I also have fuck-me boots that makes my boobs bounce and cars crash. I am feeling better and prettier than I have in years. There's just all this opportunity ahead and I can see it clearly. I know I'm going to fuck up soon enough (I remember everytime someone grabs my arm) but I want to savor this. Oh and I something to tell you. I think its something big...

I really didn't mind not having the whole internet thing. I got used to it and listened to the radio, and generally calmed down a bit. It's been a weird summer: I've only written two poems, half a story and a scene. I haven't been down to Children's Express where a friend is leaving for Sheffield, and I haven't even planned an article or other articles. I have a lot of work to do. I guess the bombs have thrown everything in the air.

Oh, you'll like this. See, everyone has little steps of bravery, and no matter how old you are, you've never really seen it all...

Tottenham court road is possibly my favourite train station: it's beautifully decorated, it has my favourite line apart from the Piccadilly line, its near the British Museum and the National Portrait gallery. And lots happens there...I had to walk down Tottenham Court road during the attempted bombings and it was like doomsday: usually there are cars and taxis and buses blazing down, but there weren't any cars and everyone was walking in the middle of the road without a care in the world. You could see the London Eye over the top of one of the buildings and knew Parliament was nearby. I was so near to the failed bombings - so near that as I was in the basement of the Petrie museum checking out 3000 year old artifacts the terrorist escaped on the road above us, and the police were searching the hospital next to us! I had taken a photo, buti know nothing about computers.

Then, one time at Tottenham Court Road the escalator stopped working and everyone was walking up in the 80 degree heat and make me think if perserverance. Then at the end of the first week after going to the Kabuki exhibtion (my summer has been very intellectual. I've had several cultural orgasms this summer.) going down the escalator I saw this 55 + lady on the bottom of the escalator too scared to get on the moving metal stairs. This Japanese woman in her 30s gestured to her with a smiling face "Get on! It's easy!" The older lady shook her head "It's going so fast!" She actually looked nervous. It made me wonder where she was from, how repressed she was, if she had ever been to a shopping centre or to London before, and who on earth she was visiting on her lonesome, and going through all of this trouble being scared of escalators. Being that I grew up in London a London girl through and through I just found that strange and maddeningly entrancing...I should start writing a story about it. Just for me. I'm not used to doing things purely for myself anymore so its been hard to write, but I hope to change soon and just get through it.

I gotta go, its late. I still have something to tell you, but I have to make sure I know what I'm talking about! Watch this space, as always for I am back and blogging!

Real

Hello everyone. I've moved (moving people 3 hours late and nicked £40 out of my Dad's wallet..otherwise :) ) and its been great. I have the biggest room, too much space and all. I'm also indulging in an internship at the National Portrait Gallery. Now that is almost overwhelming, considering everything. The internet should be back next week so don't give up on me just yet! It's been weird without the internet, but I feel its a cleansing exercise. I'm just used to it not being there and reading even more than usual.

Overall, I've been a good girl and I've kept away from the disciplining, and I've developed a healthy obsession for ice cream. There's been ups and downs, thrills and spills but I'm geniunely happy right now and I plan to remember every bit of this feeling until Results day 18th July. I hope everyone is ok and I miss you all!

Ooph, I'm thinking of changing my blog name to Successful F*ck Up. I'm tired of being that old drifting, obsessive me. What do you think?

All my love (all of it!)

Betty x