The Perfect Potential

The future is a tricky subject. No matter how much you try to observe it, try to predict it, you’re going to fail – be it to a greater or later extent. Today I had my psych appointment who asked me where I thought I would be in 5 years time. It’s a question I’ve always hated because I think its shite. See, what you think could happen in the future is potentially true, as well as it is potentially false. All the happiness and all of the sadness holds in the future is potential, and frankly, potential is shite.

So I gave her a pre-prepared answer because it’s just one of those default/convention questions that everyone hates but do it anyway, like how are you? About 7 times in your life you end up regretting asking the question (like when I ended up patting the shoulder of a colleague who burst into a tirade of tears during my work experience when I was 15. I bet she thought that wasn’t where she wasn’t going to end up at her age...) I say I’m going to be a successful journalist, or I’ll be on my gap year, gutting fish and learning Icelandic with Ria, or will I be completely down and out? It’s all shite in the end because I don’t know the future and it scares the hell out of me.

Reading this article, thinking about the breakdown of the church, and with the world becoming the neo-revisionist hellhole with a corporate brand on its ass I can’t help but feel that human nature has progressed so far all we can go is down and out. I remember all of these tacky Tomorrow World shows where the future was shiny and happy and everyone lived for ever and that was a good thing and there was World Peace – the world had the anti-climatic ending and didn’t end with a blazing sunset (from all the pollution). The future seemed so bright it was one of literary’s academic purposes to present a negative future which was way ahead in the future. Now all of these future ideas have the piss being taken out of them; it’s supposed to be a rational time, right? But now the future in these articles are so negative, it seems different to the horror over rock and roll somehow – whats left to progress in culture? Am I an old fuddy, or is the fate of the human race really and truly in the hands of computer peeps and scientists with syringes? Are we now going to have literate that saves us from our horrible potential future? Or am I talking shite?

I am guilty of reading horoscopes because sometimes they’re right and its always nice to have someone making all the decisions that I won’t have live my over, and they’re fun anyways. Yet, for 2006 I’ve been all over the net and I can’t find a coherent prediction for 2006, and it unsettles me for some reason, as if this year fate really is in my year, of all years where my life can go one way or another – my mind could crumble, I could fall into my eating disorders, or my depression (again) or my alcoholism. I could do not so well on my A levels and not get into university. Or I might meet somebody (I’ve been wondering if I’m going to fall in love with anyone anytime soon because I feel loveless and its twisting my heart like rags. Or it could all go right, and this will be the real beginning to the rest of my life. I’m not entirely sure why I’m sitting here, waiting, panicking, blogging about it.

Random Meme

Today has been rocky and windy. The driveway has been completely dug up but the builder we're entrusting to make into paved goodness has run off with £800 of our money and me and Dad don't know if we're going to see him again! So all we can do is wait. I've had the day off college today and managed to recharge my batteries as I battle homework derailed by my Moment of Madness in November and then some political homework essays...so I got bored and took a quiz and -

You Are Sunshine

Soothing and calmYou are often held up by others as the idealBut too much of you, and they'll get burned You are best known for: your warmth Your dominant state: connecting

What Type of Weather Are You?

The Day Conversation Died

After sleeping for over ten hours, I began Monday by spurning my alarm clock's advances. By the time I paid it any attention it was 10:30 and my first and only lesson of the day was starting in half an hour. I have to say I even impressed myself - awake, dressed, washed and ready for school in under 15 minutes, I was only twenty minutes late for my riveting lesson on Liberalism. I did feel for my lecturer, Thomas. Being at a FE college seems to loosen lecturer's tongue - they just seem to despair more than most teachers in sixth form colleges. He compared himself to the monks and nuns who were the first teachers at Cambridge and Oxbridge: "We give up our lives for you!" Note, this was not said in a hysterical neurotic way, just a jokey clenched smile way that was generally fact. They keep reminding me why I should never be a teacher but I can't help but be interested.

Anyways, after this me and Ric went for our typical cafe lunch thing with Alec. It went fine for 20 minutes, but then the conversation just died, like a vacuum going down the side of the sofa and getting all the crumbs...fufft. It was horrible. It wasn't like a natural silence, or a comfortable thing; it just came out nowhere and we had to re-evaluate our lives. What were we doing? We had nothing to say - no one was breaking down, our families were fine, Ric had made a deal with Rene to just avoid each other in the future. I was going to see Ria, three buses later. Things are in fact, quite pleasant. So why the silence? Does happiness need no such chatter? No, it was just things were well, boring. Having literally nothing to say is a staple of college life we learn to live with. Cos no one is that interesting. I just need to live a little more. So...

Three buses later I was at Ria's abode, after not seeing my Best Friend In The Universe (B-FIT-U) since before Chrismas, so we shared extra special hugs, and excited her by telling her about this chocolate cafe in Kingston that does chocolate fondue...oh, and I should mention that she was in her jammies at 3pm when I came down, and when I left at 5:30 she was about to change out of them. It's very Ria of her. :) (And hellooo to Ria's boyf Duluxl if he's reading.)

We had a lovely cup of tea because I was freezing and watched The Anchorman with Will Ferrell which I thought was hilarious and had many people I loved like Ben Stiller and the guy from the Wedding Crashers. We didn't speak as much as usual. We didn't need to. We just needed to comfort each other and hope our problems would go away. Here, conservation died but it was a glorious death and I'm sure it'll resurrect itself no problem.

Now, it's five to 1 am and I need to be up in 5 and a half hours so I'm going. Bye. Oh, and today (well, yesterday) was the most miserable day of the year. I beg to differ: The 12th is way worse cos then you realise this year is pretty much the same as the last, right? And on this note I bid you adieu, or something:

"Well maybe you should just drink a lot less coffee,
And never ever watch the ten o'clock news.
Maybe you should kiss someone nice
Or lick a rock
Or both
Maybe you should cut your own hair
Cause that can be so funny
It doesn't cost any money
And it always grows back,
Hair grows even after you're dead

...People are just people
They shouldn't make you nervous
The world is everlasting,
It's coming and its going" (Ghost of Corporate Future, Regina Spektor)

I Wish I Had a Camera

Today was my resting day of the week; I'm supposed to have a day each week where I can do whatever I want - doctor's orders, so I tend to forget, hehe.

But today was a really beautiful winter day - where the sun is really bright and it makes the frost shimmer and twinkle, like fairies. It was a welcome sight from yesterday when I went to Kingston with Ric and Alec and Anna to go this Americanised version of Harvester, which was alright if I wasn't having one of those horrifying bus days when the bus just doesn't come and you end up walking forever towards home hoping for a break, or when you wait for a bus thats making you more and more late until a packed one squeezes you in. Ug, I hate buses sometimes. Let me ride a train anyday. Anyway at American Harvester I got some news from Ric about his new dating prospects. We ate together the day before that talking about how much of a disaster his new date-person (he says they're not going out) was being and how awkward things are and that he's still in love with Rene. But then he announces that she invited him to Leeds Castle! I mean firstly, I didn't even know Leeds had a castle, secondly it's kinda like - big deal, weren't they 'breaking up' anyway?? And they're not even speaking to each other and aargh! I felt bad for being all 'whatever' - I think it's because I've been fighting against a crush on him for over a week and it's very annoying/distracting/dreamy, mainly I'm supposed to be a lesbian, right? And I am - 90% lesbian. I think I'm getting feelings because he's so fucking charming and he doesn't know it. And Kingston was miserable overall - I had never been to such a quiet place on a Friday night, but of course there was bladdered people at my bus stop of course - before 9pm, as well - because the British get pissed more often than they brush their teeth.

So...when I woke up this morning and my room was bathed in wintry sunlight, and I felt more light-headed and rested than I had in weeks I thought that maybe I could do something interesting today. Dad was in his gardening mood - he's been depressed recently, mainly because of me and the weather inspired us to go shopping for planting thingies. But on our way to Homebase we got lost and found this wonderful garden centre next to a rugby club, which made me feel like a Country bumpkin which was frankly unsettling. But the plants were gorgeous - they had these gorgeous fragrant climbing roses called Penny Lane which had this gentle tinge of pink all over it, which we're having next to another set of climbing red roses, also gorgeous. I know it's very geeky of me to love plants but I think some are just beautiful - the sprightliness, the sumptuous of colour and their iridescence in the sunlight or the moonlight it's what nature intended after all, even if it wasn't for us. And the smells...the place had everything - goldfish, candles, hoes (that got your attention, eh?), rabbit food...years of doing all of these Dad-like Things With Dad made me want to be able to grab out at the smell and stuff in my pocket.

We decided that since the plants we bought were safe in the boot we could go for a drive. Dad's been trying to lose weight for...ever, really. He got big when he was with Mum and his weight has been way up and quite down ever since, but now that he's older it's affecting his back, so he's trying to walk more, but still prefers cars anyday. But that didn't matter as much because a little lost again and found this place called Bedfont Lakes, and decided to get walking, even if it was more 30 minutes. The lakes were beautiful. The first we went by had a small opening between the marshes/reeds and had a beauty of a swan drinking the water. It's frame was perfect, with the tall reeds creating a perfect rim, like some kind of friendly stay-the-hell-away-barrier around the lake which had some sort of smooth...thickness created by the winter sun as if it was a chunky soup that had been pureed. The sky was cold and crisp and it was such a perfect picture. God, I wish I had a camera.

Today was a good day, I really enjoyed it. I watched Dad place the roses in their final growing place and had a weird moment as I was so low on blood sugar I began to shiver all over and could barely move and had to have too much food to think straight again. And, we unpacked the last two boxes - Photos and one I labelled General Crap. We are officially Moved In, if you don't count the shed or the loft in the old house. Oh, and did you hear about the whale in the Thames? I should have gone up to London, the sight was amazing on the news. I really should start carrying round my camera round, but you don't know when beauty will step on your toes and blow you a kiss...

Dj Betty (Flashpost)

Today I finally had my first DJ lesson. I had been looking forward to it for weeks, to learn something completely new to me, and also to carry on the legacy. My Dad (when he was cool) was a great DJ - he had these giant wardrobe speakers that reached the ceiling and had all of these exclusive reggae tunes. He would still have them if his brother hadn't fobbed them off years ago; they're still not speaking about it, I don't even know what my uncle looks like. I don't know him, so I don't miss him.

I was having a long day leading up to the lesson - in english I was reading good old Old English and then discussing the madness of the rise of Stalin. Everyone simply changed sides in accordance to what suited them to stay in power. They overthrew the Tsarist regime to force on the Russian people a type of Marxism that wasn't completely Marxist because they forced the "revolution" onto then and...oh, it doesn't matter. Socialism has sold out, at least in Britain. It was just too 'lovely' to work. People like things - they fill our thighs and cover the barren ground. Check this out for an example of Purple Politics - I can imagine the history syllabus: One Hundred Years of Labour, Hardie to Blair: Socialist to Centre Right, to Whatever Goes. (Ok, rant over)

After spending two hours in the library studying the Chinese Cultural History (is there an expert reading this blog? Cos I would love to talk to you!!) I needed to get the hell out of there - I also needed some food, as I've been restricting again (this sounds strange with a bag of cookies next to me. This is not healthy.) With a banana in the system I could go to my DJ lesson.

Annoyingly no one else had turned up but we still had a lesson. It was cool, I learnt how to set up decks - I could do it on my own now. I know how to scratch a record and how to do a couple of effects on sound on it. I even know what a XLR wire thingy is. I was beginning to practice mixing vinyl (I love love love vinyl) when the session was suddenly over. The lesson only cost a pound, and I'm learning so much. My teacher, Patti, was one of those hip youth workers who know about current music and swear - you know, crazy-cool tough bitches. The youth group place is one of those pre-Politics places: Chavs, Rastas, Goths, Gays, Hip-Hoppers and Non-Brainers get on in some sort of harmony. I really like it there...

On my horrid journey home (90 minutes and three buses when it should be 40 mins and two small journeys) I was thinking of the direction my life was going. Everyone I know is telling me I'm going to be a great success and change the world and be this brilliant person while they accept mediocrity. Who knows what they see? But when I think of all the things I want to do by the time I'm 60, let alone this summer - my head spins with the busyness of it all. I'm still one of those deluded women who believe they can have it all. I don't care that I'm unstable. I'm like a shark - that myth...you stop swimming, you die. Rest means I stew and I forget how to live or why I'm living in the first place, it's just no good for me.

It's just that now my mind has gone one step ahead of my psyche - unless it's the other way round...anyway at the moment I know that I'm a lot stronger in the face of depression and all that. So now, I do all of my self-harming unconsciously. Instead of agonizing over alcohol I just go and pour several drinks and by the time I'm drunk I'm trying to fight back but I'm just too damn drunk to. I don't know if that makes sense - has anyone else had that experience - moving out of your own control long enough for it to do damage to itself? Or am I just nuts? The next post shouldn't be so heavy unless I feel shit, so there. If I'm Ok, I'll be talking about why I love Murakami and Japanese fiction. Take care, people. And comment. For your karma, ahem, yes.

(ttp://momentanea.org/categorias/nature/cartoon_sun.php)

The Cycle

First call of duty: I'm sure you've all been bombarded with National Delurking week extravanga. I'm not going to go on about it - too much. All you lurkers, come out and say hello to my little site. Don't you just lurve this button? I nicked it off my good friend DM How long have you been lurking for? Don't be scared, my readers and readettes, I am a very forgiving person - when I'm feeling like it. If ever, hehe.

This is probably something you don't want to know, but I haven't much to talk about at the moment. For one thing I feel terrible and I haven't the slightest clue why. Sure, it hurts to blink right now because I have some sort of sty in my left eye and it gives me a headache. And I'm starting to despair over my lack of concentration and sleep deprivation. I'll be taking more pills tonight - it's only Friday night so college won't have anything to moan about.

The something you don't want to know are the two cycles I tend to go through. Firstly, I'm having the period - the crimson wave, the demons, the "accident". Usually I'm really feisty and I feel that intense teenage hate of your Dad - you'd wish he'd just DIE for not letting you have that second breakfast. You're not shy - the notion of PMS doesn't even cross your mind. Until your period comes. Thankfully to my problems my periods hardly ever come around. Last year, I didn't get any for 9 months which was really scary. I felt like some invalid freak. I wonder about children sometimes...what I might have to go through should I ever decide to have them...

Actually, I think me and Ria are sorta synchronised when I'm on - which is pretty freaky considering we only see each other like once a month. Her punk-ass boyfriend (in a good way) Darren had her way with her, which is said to be messy. I can't bear to imagine the mess, the mess! Apparently punk-ass didn't mind. The single-mindedness of men is so strange at times.

Speaking of men, I got sent this link about feminism in the 21st century (or the lack of it, as she argues). Perhaps she's right. Women are as fussy - fussier? - than ever about how men percieve (I'm going for straight women here. I'm a lesbian and I can't figure them out haha! Can't believe I said that) and have reversed from burning bras in the 60s to spending thousands on lingerie and trimming labias and selling thongs to eight year olds. Intelligence seems to be frowned upon - they've found that the smarter the woman, the less likely she is to find a man because they find it threatening, which is said, since girls in the UK are beating the boys in every subject, but then the times are a-changin' again, aren't they? Every backlash has got its own backlash. The backlash against feminism that didn't even finish the job should be taken upon but modernized - no more man-hating, weird hemp clothes that rubbed in all the wrong places, none of that. No shying away from what you are, being cool with that. I think women are about 50, 60 years from full equality. Women have been prejudiced for hundreds of years, what the Enlightenment got to do with that? We have hurdles to jump everywhere and we have to stop being so goddamn bitchy, I can't stand it!

...And I've digressed. I've actually been very down the last three days but all of this ranting has made me feel a bit better. On Wednesday night I got ratarsed, corkscrewed, jackhammered drunk. I felt great. Reading over my blog, turns out I've had this issue for at least 13 months - hey, Friday 13th! This is usually a good day - I get more top grades, or days of school. Not today, today as terrible- I had a horrendous fat day, which is much worse than most because of the depression and eating problems. I didn't eat all day, except for some cherry drops and a Snickers bar. I felt so proud of myself, and so light. I felt intelligent. I felt good. And I shouldn't have, I know but I needed to feel thin and not the disgust when I look at myself in the mirror. I stuck my head in my fifth Murakami book, Kafka on the Shore and I was too happy about it's superb, concise, mystical, optimistc ending I forgot about eating when I got home at about 5pm.

I'm ashamed to say I binged. These days I have mini-destructions and I don't even realise they're coming. One moment I'm bemoaning Eastenders, in a couple of hours I'm ratarsed drunk screaming silent words at my Dad's bedroom wall, or eating a day's worth of food over two and a half hours. Even then, even though I knew what I had to do I didn't really realise what I was doing until I was on all fours in my bedroom, gagging. And it didn't stop there - I hadn't cut my nails and I think I cut my throat a little, but it'll heal fine if I don't purge for a few days. When I was done, I found that my knuckles had turned red from scraping against my teeth, I was coughing a lot, my throat was sore and my body was shaking. Tears were streaming down my face. I crawled away from the bathroom and kept ringing Ria's phone until I got through. Now I'm blogging about it. And that's the starve-binge-purge-blog cycle I've entangled myself in now. But now I should retire to bed - it's 2 am. I have books to read and I'm too ugly for words.

Purple Politics

Have you heard of purple politics?

It's something I've wanted to talk about for ages because its happening all around us and Google has hardly taken any notice. Or maybe I'm just a really creative thinker. It's mainly my worry that the major parties are going through a little reform of their own, with a decent mandate from the public, and each side - red and blue are drawing up the same deals, shifting their own principles closer and closer to the centre - green causes being roped in by David Cameron who wants to take the right wing out of Conservatism - just to dwell on that...what's Conservatism without the right wing?

With Cameron agreeing more and more with Tony Blair's ideas (top-up fees, the NHS/Welfare State) Cameron is ditching old Conservative principles to try and get the party back on track and is proving popular with everyone - right and left wingers. Hell, even I find Cameron pretty engaging at points - he certainly knows how to talk during Prime Minister Questions and to the media. Labour finds it difficult to shoot down Cameron because that would be like criticising Blair; Cameron has the public school boy charm as Blair, and they end up saying more or less the same thing - except Labour has more of a recent history than the Conservatives, who hadn't taken Britain to war or not having such a great economy at general election time. The Tories will have taken on all of these image changes, throwing off the almost indelible mark of Margharet Thatcher. To the apathetic, it's real change, but it wouldn't be. I don't think so. Unless politics is so tied to the media it's starting to forget how to think for itself, and Cameron was lying - he's as navy blue as a raincoat and has a locket of Thatcher in his silk breast pocket. He did go to both Eton and Oxford after all.

I don't know. I mean, this isn't the best written political analysis, but it's what I think after all and I don't know who I'm going to vote for in the next election. If everyone going to start agreeing, if the debate doesn't permeate through to the public, then the next election will be down to arresting and distinctive personalities, and this is where the Chiracs and the Bushes find their way. And this is where it could all go very, very wrong.

The last word:

"And what it all comes down to,
Is that no one gone and figure it all out just yet
Well, I got one hand in my pocket and the other is playing a piano...

And what it all comes down to my friends, yeah,
Is that everything is just fine, fine, fine!
Well I got one hand in my pocket
And the other is hailing a taxi cab." (Alanis Morrissette)

Principles go, results are next to godliness and the cult of personality breathes in Centre-ism, if anyone has called dibs on that yet and wrote a book yet.

Amazed, Horrified, Stunned, Hopeful

Ok, so I haven't blogged in a while. Life has been difficult. The way I see it, when you're submerged in bad luck be careful because anything could happen. What happened yesterday? Well for one thing I took sedatives for the first time. My sleep problem/insomnia has never been this...persistent. Most nights I'm not sleeping until 3, 4 in the morning. So I bought some herbal Nytol thingy thats pretty hard to overdose on, but overslept instead, argh! The whole not being able to sleep thing is wearing down pretty thin and rendering me useless so it's really hard for me to get any work done. Anyway, the following morning I woke up practically late for my 9am start and Dad sat on my bed, seeing the clean, glinting razor on my bed. I didn't know it was there, the sedatives kept me all groggy. Self sedation is a dreadful experience you fight against it all the way.

"What's this?"
"Mmhugfh?"
He began twirling with the razor. I saw it. Oh, my God...
"So? Well? Talk to me."
He tried to look into my eyes. I looked away from him and told him muggily "I don't want to talk about it." I didn't say much else, turned away from him. I thought to myself "Wow I didn't see this one coming." With difficulty I managed to get him out of my room so I could grab all my other razors and Nytolites and stuffed them into my bag. I felt like a fucking vigilante. Dad won't leave me alone, but today with the stand in psych I turned it towards dieting which is much safer ground. I told Dad I'd talk about it with him later, but I lied. Rich again was there for me. He didn't even know I cut until yesterday (I cut after over a 7 weeks last week and two nights ago), when he dragged me away from creative writing when we had a moment.

"You see, the massive argument between me and Dad was kinda...my fault."
"Oh? What do you mean?"
"I mean he found something in my room."
"Yeah...that. You see Ric -"
"It's ok. Just tell me." He looked wretched but I saw his eyes and I thought 'fucking hell I can trust him' "...sharp things."
"Ok"...

Just telling him what happened, and how trapped I felt - and still feel - helped wonders for my riddance of helplessness. I can't purge because now I know my Dad and my brother can hear me, and I'm forced to have dinner, and my Dad is watching me like a depressed hawk and I'm just bringing down everybody. Rich even offered a place to stay for the night, but it would have been tense as his Dad is a racist...making our friendship just that little bit stranger.

So yes things are a little tense between me and Dad and he thinks I'm desperate, danger to myself etc although I think he's calmed down a bit. I mean this makes everything so much tougher when things didn't need to be. I'm not ready to talk about it with Dad cos he doesn't get it - he calls it "silly" and even said after he found my razor "I might as well cut myself with it" and made cutting motions with it. I was waiting to leave the house so we could have some space with the issue, so things don't get too intense, but this happens. The powers that be leave me stunned once again!

After Ric ranted at Martina for a bit because he hates her as she got into Oxbridge and I didn't, I went to my gay youth group and we talked about New Years resolutions and Christmas and Religion in general. Apparently in Italy some guy is presenting a case to try and prove that Jesus as a magical, supreme being didn't exist in the hope to kill off Catholicism. A bit of a kill-joy if you ask me, but I see his cynicism.

My Resolutions are pretty straightforward this year. I'm trying not to go over the top and just say be brilliant but to:

• Write more often; go to a poetry open-mic night
• Have DJ lessons (starting on the 17th!)
• Do more photography

And that's it. Writing wise, my year was a drought because I was so depressed - reading over my blog in 2005 and I was very sad and preparing for the end, it seems. Right now, I'm just struggling with short term overwhelmness which I have THE To-Do List to help me out. Yes, THE To-Do list. This includes going to my top three universities (Sussex!, Manchester and Sheffield) and going to the cinema once a month because its ten minutes from me, but I no one to see anything with - hmm. Anyway I'm listening to Nelly Furtado right now feeling good. I feel good because I have things to look forward to. For the first time in years, let's face it - six years now - I might, possibly, improbably kick out my depression. I want it gone. And I don't know why, but I really like this feeling. It's kinda like hope.

Can't Wait To Sleep So I Get Moving

2005? Jeebus - attempted suicides, AS results, terrorism, natural mania, new friends and beginnings and boyfriends. Can't wait to leave this year behind! Oh, I have...

My horoscope (Gemini) told me that I should do things that will keep me sane and not to worry so much and do things I enjoy. I can only say... Tough Shit. I mean, really. It's my A-level year, I'll be moving out of the house this year, I'll be coming out to my mum this year, I'm trying to get help this year, trying to get a journalist placement somewhere. Avoid stress? You gotta be out of your fucking mind. But it doesn't mean I'll become insane. I'm sure if I bang my head against the wall long I'll go from sane to insane to sane again, it just requires patience. Happy new year folks.