Sussex is not as gay as I thought

Guess where I went on Wednesday?

I've got lots to tell you. I have left the misty, opaque smoke of coursework and major deadlines have passed once and for all and I am very happy at this moment. But first, Sussex.

They have campus tours each week and I finally managed to stop the panic procrasination and actually call them and arrange things and tell my Dad about it and make food (cereal bars) for the journey. I even organised a meeting with the Head of the History department and made sure we got on the right motorways - we didn't get lost, we were early and the tour answered all of my questions. It's a campus place with everything like laundrettes and 7 bars and the most amazing library I've ever seen (apart from the British Library. I've never been but if I did I'm sure I'd never come out.) Anyway this was FOUR STOREYS of library - all those books...yum! And a cinema! And a nightclub, but I suspect thats shitty because who wants to hang in the same place all the time?

Meeting the historian was cool because she told that because I'm taking single honours I can take on other courses like Politics and English and American studies which was birdsong to my ears. Afterwards me and Dad went to the pebble beach (with 100 Billion pebbles, some sad-ass counted) and had a good old bonding session throwing (not skipping) pebbles, watching surfers and guitarists with rainbow straps and photographers, thinking: it's so blue and so calm. You know, the wind changed as we got nearer - I haven't been to the sea in months and its good to look at something so never-ending and peaceful as if the future wasn't too bad...the future...I don't like the future. Especially the short term future - this whole university thing - people keep asking if I've chosen yet and I can't because I won't be able to satisfy anybody...not even myself.

It was probably at this point I realised Brighton wasn't as gay as I thought it was before. I saw a giant rainbow flag on the beachfront but that was it, and I liked that because being isn't my whole life even though I would like a girlfriend to have evening cuddles and do stupid cute indie things with...



And then today I finished my coursework in the morning. The moment it all printed, title page, appendixes, bibliographies and everything I knew it was all over and I was bloody ecstatic. I even picked a wild daffodil on the way to college. It was a good decision because I had cool conversations like:

"Hey Betty, can I borrow some water?"
"Sure- could you hold my daffodil for a moment?"
"No problem."

Or -

"Oh yes, you cutie daffodil-dilly you, with your yellow rays of petals and your trumpet-head, my aren't you scrumptious...*glares* what? I don't care if it's in the library, its my daffodil and it needs attention its wilting!" (Ok that was made up)

Most people were miserable especially my teacher because a couple of students never stop moaning about having to work and never understands a damn thing...she's lovely but annoying! And the day was so beautiful. Oh my god I could never tell you how beautiful I'd have to be silly and cliched: the sun was tangoing with the clouds on the first day of the year that actually looked like spring and the sun light moved in sheets not waves and moved across this spread of green grass and fields, moving and shifting so fast it was like an upbeat rock music video it was so beautiful.

So now, I'm back to business, making plans and giving in CVs (no one has replied. With this much abuse how can you expect worker satisfaction?) trying to get my Prozac (Flouxatine?) trying to work with my Dad, trying trying trying to fix this whole life of time while I've still got time and I'm not in anyway defined....as yet.

Jungle Skyscrapers

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).

Antidote

Lemon Jelly plays Space Walk (Beautiful!) and I try to comprehend myself. My college life has become a nice blob of organized chaos. All I can remember is studying and chatting, trying to make myself make horrid decisions, namely universities. Up North or 'dahn' South? Politics or History? How can I possibly choose? And so accidently on purpose I've been avoiding making appointments to visit the places, which I WILL get to, I will.

I've been very tired, I must say. I tried to get some work done over the weekend and I just fell asleep, leaving me burning the midnight oil (and beyond) each day of this week which just makes Betty more tired. I saw my dear Ria on Monday for what was to be a DVD toss up and a Trivial Pursuit showdown, but we ended up just doing the showdown (and won! Three times!) I got to check out my old high school which really hadn't changed at all. Even the kids were the same, but it was nice to see Charlotte, Darren and Em (who reads this blog! :S) and my old teachers who seemed happy to see me. It was...nice in the purest sense of the word.

Big news pending, I am to be prescribed anti-depressants. It would be a more scared post about it being five years in the making if it wasn't for Dad speaking up about hormones because my periods for the last two, three years have been more or less non-existent. I'm seeing an endocri-summat-gist first to affirm I haven't got some hormone freakery. It's annoying because it pushes an extra two months from me getting these drugs. Unfortunately I couldn't start shouting at my Dad in front of psych so I have to go along with it. Grr.

Ric has been amazing. He is more than a little nuts (only last week I was used as a ranting box about Oxbridge because his gorgeous intelligent girlfriend is going there and he's a complete Marxist). I told I felt like I was boxing underwater (quickest thing I could say on text) and he said that without me being responsible his life would look like Kosovo, which was sweet. He also wrote me a mini-script in Icelandic to help me learn and says I could use his name and birthday to enter for this script-writing competition (£15,000 first place! And I do have an idea for a play, but I can't tell you yet!)

Ooh, I won my debating thing - I managed to prove that religion is not inherently evil! And it is evil at the core, but the direction people have taken it, fundamentalism, evangelism, arrogance and disharmony has made religion rotten. It can be fixed, but I can't elaborate on this at the moment because I'm near to collapse. Keep on trucking. Happy Birthday DM!

Check-in, Check-out

Hey there. Long time, no see.

I've been battling those depression demons - they like to swoop upon me at this time of the year through books and TVs and the net and music. They foul my mood and pepper everything with optical and audio illusions. Frankly, these last couple of weeks, I just haven't been up for living. Functioning. Eating. Honesty. Those basics of life.

At this time of the year I'm usually very reclusive, although you wouldn't know it if you were talking to me, but I'm not really there talking to you. I'm very distant, I don't where I go. All I know is that between now and just after my birthday is the time I cry the most. How very dramatic, and how spectacular the timing! I've finished my big fat Chinese Cultural Revolution assignment exam (4,148 words in four hours! W00t!) and now tomorrow I'm to be set my big fat Russian Coursework essay. Thats scary because I have a novel's worth of notes and I have no idea what to do - burn them all for warmth or create an origami city? I've no idea.



Last week had me worse than usual. Everytime I got out of bed was such a colossal achievement that by the time I got to college I was already exhausted. Bad luck with buses seemed to follow me everywhere -I wasn't on time ONCE last week. I had no motivation, no energy - just thoroughly depressed really. I wasn't eating much - no more than 800 calories a day and I more or less kept it up which made me feel quite proud and I exercised more, threw myself into work and avoided looking people in the eye. When I cut on Saturday it was such a relief. It sucks because I'm going to Italy in under a month and I wanted to be relatively scar free when I went, but I haven't been able to keep it up. But since I've been able to take a step back and breathe, and get some perspective. It's as if I knew when was the right time for me. Strange.

With my energy back and alcohol free (it's hell) I embarked on an organize life stat! weekend. My room is now a swathe of carpet, my books are in the right place and I have assorted another plastic bag of magazines I plan to read when I get the chance. I've also organized open days in Manchester and Sussex - a London gal out of water, for sure. So thats a blog post coming near you, folks.

Being organized meant finding the most fascinating things, like old articles I've written, university letters, notes written during my time in the National Portrait Gallery, photos where I'm slim *sigh*. You can't help thinking of the future when you see those. Actually it reminds me of Postsecret from last week where this girl wrote in about cutting and hiding her scars. She said she wanted to scream at her family "I'm not myself and I don't know how to be", which I thought was disturbingly perfect. I mean, I'm sure everyone gets into that situation once in a while, and isn't it fucking scary? Isn't it terrifying, the thought that you may never know yourself, or be yourself for the rest of your life - and never feel comfortable or happy in your own skin? Or even that you were yourself once but you threw it away for some reason and you can't turn back because life is never like that. It just isn't...

What else? Well, I've started writing erotica *blushes*. I was in a writey mood and my mind hit on this idea of this art freak becoming obsessed with this young beautiful fuck-up and having lots of sexual adventures from the view of this rich, luxurious 30 something. So I started writing it and it's all right. It's not stupid or sleazy or implausible and frankly, I like it. It's called "Beauty" and if there's demand for it I'll post it on Blogger but you have to ask first - if anyone still reads this, that is.

And I found this graveyard not far from my house. It's so beautiful. I was having one of my other-worldly, crazy depressed moments and I walked through the graveyard. The priest for the church is more church-obsessed than God-mad which is disheartening. It is a gorgeous building - build around the Tudors (1600s) and some of the gravestones still had engravings from the 1763. Some stones were really poignant. Like, this one had a man die in 1933 in his 30s and the wife is buried with him, who dies at the age of 92 in 1998. I mean, its amazing, strange, beautiful that someone could wait 60 years to join their loved one in heaven. It made me wonder if she ever dared to fall for someone else. If makes me wonder if I could love so fatalistically. I don't know. It feels good to blog again. I've missed it and I'm glad I'm back.

Communication Skillz

Before I slip back into the murky world of studying, exams and stupid coursework projects, I’ll tell you about my last couple of days.

The day before I must have talked to everyone. This included creepy bus drivers “You look exhausted…like you could with a massage.” Funny in the morning when you’re barely awake but strange otherwise. I also talked to a teenage evangelist who cornered me on the way to church (library). When she asked why I didn’t believe in God I had completely forgotten and I couldn’t think of any reasons, which nonplussed me and made her think she had a chance at seduction of God. And this other guy got sucked into it as well. He was a cutie and I think he was interested, but there was nothing I could do about that…when did I become attractive to the OPPOSITE sex? Where are all the ladies? And so I worked and worked and worked. I’ve become a Cultural Revolution bore; it’s all I think about. It is really interesting after all how a few people managed to manufacture a revolution and try to pull a wronski feint on their own party, and using the youth to do so by making them in charge and giving them basic, vague instructions to allow them to run riot without responsibility being firmly in their hands. The whole exam basically writing out your assignment notes next Wednesday in four hours and I’ve got a mixture of panic and eagerness spurring me on. I’ve almost completed my practice essay draft thing, which is good. But now just exhausted. I was typing straight for 90 minutes yesterday after my Politics exam where I wrote 14 sides of A4 in two and a half hours. And then today I wrote another 750 words in 40 minutes, had 5 hours sleep and I still got DJ practice today – if I don’t go know I’ll be missing it for the next two weeks and I’d be way behind.

I’m also doing some stuff for my gay youth club’s new website – I’ve got an art review, my coming out story and some poems. As I was writing my Coming Out story I found that far from being a “higher experience” it’s actually pretty boring on paper. I guess it’s because since I came out I’ve missed three Pride events in a row and I still haven’t been out clubbing yet, making me a proper baby dyke, but that’s to change this summer. I’ve asserted that I will get a job – it’ll be like once, twice a week and if I arrange some journalist experience then I can always take some time off. It’s just that since I’m practically emotionally independent from Dad I still rely on him financially and I want that to change. This whole university thing is stressing me out too. Before it was completely overwhelming and I just wanted to end it all; I’ve started to gain some perspective, which is making things easier for me and that is always a good thing frankly. I’ve been very hungry at times and very thirsty too which worries me because Ria’s boyfriend has been diagnosed with diabetes and is in hospital with a majorly high sugar count (65 when he entered, now down to 22. It’s supposed to be 5.) So I’m just a little more aware. The obscene amounts of chocolate can’t have helped either.

It’s also been a different week because of all the death. The mudslide in the Philippines, for one thing. And then I’ve heard about the Hurricane Katrina tour bus. I don’t care how they justify it – they only give 10% of profit to the victims! And so many of them are stranded in caravans and so many of the people there have left there forever. The Bush Administration might as well leave the wreckage be. Keep making money out of misery; you’re so good at it. You can call it the Permanent Disaster and make it snazzy. Maybe other natural disasters can join in too.
And on sea level where I am, there’s been some deaths as well. My Mum came down last week and we watched some DVDs, then to remark about how her Dad died a few years ago. I’m not I ever met him. I must have, but I can’t remember his face…it just shocked for a few seconds that’s all. And then on the phone to an ailing Ric (sceptic knee and life in general; but he can’t walk now) he told me his ex-girlfriend’s close friend died suddenly. I bumped into her in the library the next day. She looked distraught. It turns out he had some heart condition, and at this party they were at his right ventricle collapsed and he just fell and died. She was ok because had this amazing night with him when they just talked all night about everything for hours. He had his organs donated to medicine and his faulty heart donated to science. She’s still very distraught. She and his classmates went out for a night of drinking and ended up on Richmond high street crying on a bench. A homeless guy offered her food. It makes you wonder how bad things are these days, how “grieveful” you can be. I think I’m getting the hang of consoling people with their death, even though I’ve been so lucky so far. I mean, my Dad could have a heart attack in his sleep at 8 in the morning just before he’s supposed to go to work (happened to Ria’s friend…it’s always a friend of a friend.). I guess the truth is that I’m starting to get worried now about whose next to die, or fall apart around me. But there’s nothing I can do about that, is there? Except practice.

Now I am home at last after my last DJ lesson for 6 weeksL because my teacher is going off to some assignment in Suburbia. So now it’s time for me to look into buying my own tunes, take up practicing once a week and rock out, basically. Thing is, I have to find my favourite type of music – I’m into motown, and vocal stuff that builds up, has drums and bass…so that’s what I’ll be looking for. Hmm. Anyone recommend any ‘choons?

V. Day

So...Valentine's Day.

Being extremely single, and with all of my friends taken this day is not going to be absolutely brilliant. But then, this happened: my brother called me into his room with a serious look on his face because he's been dating his girl (she's lovely) for 6 months and wanted ideas (it's pretty straightforward: Good chocolate, dozen red roses, or precious jewelry as it's their first V. Day.) So then, he offered me money to kick me out of the house. I got £15...which is ok because at least I'm getting money out of being single and it'll be a great anecdote when I see my friends on Thursday, yet this is also pathetic because I planned to gorge on chocolate all day and continue with my assignment which is scaring me more and more (again I plead: Does anyone know ANYTHING about the Chinese Cultural Revolution???) and I couldn't concentrate yesterday because on Sunday night I was bouncing off the walls and cut myself really badly. My Dad has taken the alcohol out of the house and locked it away in the shed, and is planning to do the same with the medication, thanks to my psych's recommendations. She's also thinking of giving me some medication. Yay! Because I'm going to need something to get through the next few months, let alone days. I got my mock exams on Monday which I want to get an A on...so much for coping.

Sigh. I wish I could handle things better than this. I find myself with two or more major things to do

1. Choose my university and go to some open days
2. Complete my assignment
3. Prepare for Mock exams
4. Get organised in general

...And I just start freaking out and I can't deal. This is not good.

Then I think about love. At the moment I'm not really fancying people. I'm not into those lovely dizzy crushes people seem to get, where you agonize over your desire, because things seem to become a lot more fun at those times. I also don't the chance to cut the rug at any lesbian clubs which would be a lot of fun and get me into contact with some...one. I'm just too busy to fall in love, which would usually mean someone fantastic would be coming into my life but it's not happening. So I'm in a very strange single position, but I'll figure it out. I wonder if anyone will get proposed to today...

Peace and Quiet

This is my favourite view of London, although this picture doesn't capture it's full beauty...because now the trees that line the bank have pretty blue fairy lights in the branches...and if you look on the side of the London Eye and Houses of Parliament the eye is lit up with red and green lights...I went into London yesterday and I loved the bus journey, as it went through Aldwych and launched itself onto the Westminister bridge and speeds over the Thames...

I've been feeling very lonely recently and ended up drinking some sneaky whisky with my turkey pasta tonight. I dunno, I just feel as if I can't talk to anyone. No one seems to tell I'm down, even though I'm trying to be obvious. I just want people to hug me/a good conversation. And just the fact that I'm trying to obvious makes me feel...queasy. It's not fair. Is it my fault that my friends simply disappear when I need somebody? I just feel like I'm being attacked on all sides from college (big mock exam and big 3,000 word personal project - so I'll be busy) from society because I don't listen to enough insipid modern RnB music, because I'm single and everyone I know has suddenly become busy on Tuesday. The way I see it, on Saturday, no matter what happens I'm going to pamper myself and buy lots of clothes for myself because people just aren't helping.

I'd feel safer in my cocoon if I could get some peace and quiet. Like at the library, trying to read up on Chairman Mao - pen clicking and cackling and whispering everywhere, including the odd bang and strange machine noises - I could barely work and I found myself wanting to strangle the girl on my right cackling about her boyfriend Brian who has a small penis - like I care! I just need a release/bitch/moan/cry/cut/hug/fight/vant and this blog is the only thing I can get through to at the moment. And in response to Lioness and my picture: I will get a picture of yours truly soon enough when I learn how to use a scanner...and take a photo :)