Before I Become an Octogenerian...

This is my last day as a 17 year old. Last year, on this Sunday, would have been my first day as a 17 year old. How far we've come. Or not - maybe you're a new reader (comment! I command you!) The important point is that I've encountered some perfect things during this year.

The perfect teenage/emo picnic: On a hot day in Walpole park, listening to heavy metal drinking cider and Strongbow, flirting and wrestling and kissing girls, only to be propositioned by an old man on the bus home who tells you where you're staying! Of course, I wasn't a prostitute then or now just drunker and slimmer...

I encountered the perfect set of short stories in the world of Murakami. You know I love him, and I'll show you reasons why: The Second Bakery Attack & The 100% Perfect Girl are perfect examples of his perfect short stories. I read amazing books in him such as Kafka on the Shore (ignore the bubble head, its a great book - it has taboos, Hegel and talking cats!) which has made my life a little easier, more bearable now.

I'm in such a great mood because I think I managed to find the perfect piece of music before my 18th birthday (this may return to bite me on the arse). Why am I putting my arse on the line? This song put me in such a state youthful, musical spiritual ecstacy I shrieked with pleasure! I always imagined myself screaming with mirth or sadness or back breaking sorrow or horror, but never in musical delight. It's a 20 minute's worth of multiple orgasms. I've never experienced anything like it - it was as if I was being possessed by some joyous African tribe with drums and magic and sticks instead of piano and claps and Nina Simone's "Oh yeah." Oh yeah.... Do you know the song yet? It's Sinnerman. The full version, that lasts 10 minutes. So Good. You can tell I've just discovered it, haven't you?

And in Sunday Morning as well! Only the most romantic time of the week. It's like my favourite part of the week. Its the only part that really is all mine. My time. And it might be because of that, but the sunrises are the most striking this time, the sunlight more bright, the day shorter as I love them so much, the sunsets more poignant. I danced and shrieked to Sinnerman and when it ended I coughed with the force of vomiting because I'm ill, darn. But I'm 18 tomorrow. In the UK this means I'm a fully fledged adult. I can vote, join the army, get a mortgage, gamble, get drunk (its not as fun when its legal, is it?), start a business. In 3 years I'll be able to run for Parliament, and thats when everything will go terribly wrong, won't it? Hahaha.

Another perfect moment came from my worst act of self destruction (my overdose, for any who don't read this often). In hospital my real relationship with my brother began - the one I would be taking advantage of for the rest of my life, and my Mum and I talked and laughed and I got looked after with tenderness I haven't had since I had water poisoning when I was 7. And then to top it off I confessed to my Dad, which has made things so much more convienient and so much harder since.

Right now I'm choosing my university accomodation and not cutting over the stress of it! Yay! Oh, and I haven't cut in a month! Double yay! I think I'm going to get my mind back. I think I'm going to get my life back. I think I'll my mind will have such clarity I can make witty observations on the world of politics and culture soon and try and do journalism again. I might be able to control my Pure O of OCD. I might even be OK in univerrity, in MANCHESTER, make a go of it, and try to be happy.

In Incubus terms:

"I haven't felt the way, I feel today, in so long it's hard for me to specify." (Nice to Know You, from album Morning View)

Gosh :)