Today was a short exercise on the futility of fate. I applied for what to "hopefully" be my next job working in a jolly old supermarket (I shall call it The Super) - I'm thinking of taking a temporary job in a Deli because The Super doesn't open until June and Dad's still refusing to give me money, which means that to him I've now come of age, or he's poor, or he just sees me as really, really lazy. Even so, I haven't been this broke since I was a child, which wasn't so bad because kids never spent money, all I wanted was sweets, not bras or books and trips to Central London (I haven't been out to C. London since February - sooner than later I'm going to break out into industrialized hives caught from the concrete jungle.)
During all of this madness I have no time to be depressed during the day, and so I can function fairly well when the sun is up, and laugh and skip and ignore all the weird stares I keep getting - I can't tell if it's lust or disgust for the girl with blue hair (which I need to redo soon).
Today, one of the archetypal modern nights happened to me as I boarded the bus, in my hurry to drop off my Super application. I ran my hands through my pockets for my mobile but they weren't there, and with each pocket, and each bit of space I went through my stomach would drop a few more inches. It was horrible. The scene on the bus became more apparent as I began to detail the prams and the old people being so quiet and stoic. The bus was quiet and sedate even though people were chattering away. I surprised myself by not crying, making the 40 minute journey to the community centre to hand in my application and turning back to Twickenham where I spent an hour searching the streets for my mobile. It was on silent so I couldn't call it. What would I have done if it was lost forever? I couldn't stop thinking of some annoying stranger looking through my texts and my pictures with some kind of grim satisfaction if it would warrant a half-assed short story...
It turns out I left it in careers back at college (the only place in college where sanity runs riot), undamaged and comfy in my pocket. What was also strange was that my journey was exactly the same - I waited for the bus for the same amount of time...even the prams were exactly the same, with no babies in them, just shopping and the same yellow bib thingy. It was as if I was being allowed to relive the journey - a second chance for me to take note of something. This made me feel like both control and fate was some illusion, although I should never endeavour to force its hand. Who knows, maybe I was overthinking it. But I did feel so lost and alone without my phone, like a Q without an U (note The Simpsons reference).