Ode to albatrosses

The ceiling has stars on it. A cheap plastic version of the galaxy glowing there watching me. Watching me as I don’t sleep. Once I read that if you have insomnia it is best to go into a different room so you don’t start to associate your bedroom with sleeplessness. There isn’t anything to do and the rest of the world is asleep. I leave the room quietly, my feet padding through the thick carpet making me feel like a lioness, or maybe just a very smug cat. How can you sleep? There’s too much to think about.

The only light in the room is the clock on the Hi fi glowing green through the room. The curtains are open and the stars shine into the room. A real, larger version, of the plastic stars I have on the ceiling in my room. That’s what I’ll miss most when I move to a city- the stars. I love looking at the stars. Sometimes I’m happy just to sit outside staring at them, wondering about the trillions of different things that they hold, but we don’t know about yet. Sometimes I can even tolerate the horrifically cold Northumberland nights just to see the stars. They aren’t just pretty, what they represent is more than that. They represent possibilities. The idea that anything, whatever, is possible. And that in the grand scheme of things, nothing you can do matters. Whether you become great, a complete hero; you still don’t matter compared to everything else. There are just so many stars.

To me, that’s a comforting thought.

When I was little I used to walk home from my aunt’s at night. There wasn’t much point driving- it was too close; so we walked. The nearest street lamp must have been a few miles away, so you could see every star. Every single one of them, shining down on you. I used to walk along just looking at the sky, paying absolutely no attention to what direction I was going in. The number of times I walked into the same bloody falling down brick wall, you’d think I’d learn. But I didn’t. I was completely mesmerised.

I don’t really have time for the stars anymore. It’s like, suddenly, my life has got interesting and I don’t have time for the little things. For sitting at home and actually talking to my dad. For writing poems, composing songs, for creating a world in my mind seperate to the one around me.

I guess that’s a good thing. Some time you need to grow up, to realise that it’s time to move on from where you live in a dream world, to where you actually live the dream. It’s just scary. There are so many things that can go wrong to turn that dream into a nightmare. But I miss it now. Sitting in my room and just thinking about things. I guess I still do that to a certain extent, but for a while it would be nice to just sit here and look at the stars.

Labels: Growing Up, Poetic licence

Sometimes it’s hard for me to sleep because I feel so lonely. Sometimes I have to find something to occupy my mind because if I don’t, I’ll think about everything and all I’ll want to do is cry. Sometimes I feel like talking to someone, anyone, just to feel like I’m not the only person around, like the world isn’t just a big empty space with me standing there alone. Then other times it isn’t like that. Other times I’m made claustrophobic by my life and just want to leave and find an unoccupied beach somewhere. Other times I feel like it’s better to be alone.

The thing about movies is that you never see what comes next. A man kisses the woman and the end credits come up. But you don’t see what comes after that kiss. Maybe their teeth clash and they don’t talk to each other for the next year out of pure embarrassment. Maybe they have sex and then he doesn’t call her again. Maybe they have a very fulfilling, meaningful relationship for a year or so then get bored of each other and break up. With lives it’s different. You can’t know when you’ve reached the happily-ever-after point. Does it even exist?

A few days ago I would have sworn that I’d reached that point. Not forever, but for just now. Something to make me happy for the next few months at least, something to make me human. Something to make me sleep easier at nights because the aching lonliness wouldn’t be there anymore. Someone to keep me company on that beach, but not bother me if I needed to walk a little way down it alone. And I knew that there would never be one point in my life that I could label “Happily ever after” but maybe there will be a few and I can say that if nothing else, it was a good time.

But I’ve changed my mind. It doesn’t exist. It’s good and I’m happy enough. I don’t need someone on that beach with me, I never have and never will. The one thing about me is that I am, intrinsically, independent. That doesn’t mean that I’m stubborn or that I have to have my own way. It doesn’t mean that when I was a baby I had to use the fork myself- I wouldn’t let my parents even though I couldn’t lift it properly. It means that I’m just more comfortable on my own, independent of other people. I’m not happier on my own, believe me, it’s just the default my life falls into. Some rely on their partners, even in a relationship I will rely on myself first.

Happily ever after is as mythical and false as the fairytales from which it originated. It isn’t a state you can aspire to, and if you think that you’ve reached it then you’ll soon come to realise it was fake. But even though I’ve not reached happily ever after, I have reached happy. It’s come as a shock after the last few months. All I wanted to do was party, pull, and forget everyone’s names the next day. And, but for one person, it would have all worked out fine for me. I’d probably be as man-hating as my two best mates, but I’d be relaxed and feeling pretty good regardless. It didn’t work out.

Happily ever after doesn’t exist. But I’ll take happy without the ever after. Life couldn’t just be filled with happiness, it would get boring. For now I’m just happy to spend a few weeks without the lonliness.

Labels: A field of poppies

I wish it was always summer. I wish I had an olive tree in my back garden and that I could walk around in cropped dungarees all day with my hair loosely tied back without my sister making a complaint that my hair looks better down and that dungarees aren't clothing; they're just ugly. I wish I could sing along to every song without looking over my shoulder to check that there wasn't someone there who would complain about the noise. I wish I could spend my day writing and my nights drinking wine. I wish that a good book would last forever and that the sea was always deep, clear and warm.

I wish that I didn't care what people thought. I wish that when people said that he was ugly I didn't wince. I wish that when I stay in on a Saturday night I wouldn't get drunken phone calls, texts saying the word "evil" repeatedly, and people taking umbridge about Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for some completely inexplicable reason. I don't mind the drunken phone calls really, they can be annoying if I happen to be asleep at the time, but otherwise they're pretty amusing. I wish that people had no flaws.

I wish that I could understand everything and could speak every imaginable language. I wish that I had dreams about flying. I wish that chocolate really could solve everything. I wish that I didn't wince everytime I hear the word "girlfriend". I wish that I had never been ID'd and that I was two and a half months older. I wish I will marry a tall slender dark haired man who will understand me and and not turn out to have a severe homicidal psychosis. Whatever that even means. I wish that I had climbed a mountain and been at the bottom of the ocean. I wish I was an FBI agent and that I was actually any good at drawing.

I wish I had no regrets and that all wishes came true. I wish I knew how to weild a sword and could do archery. I wish swimming pools were larger and that life guards weren't so nasty to you when you were little. I wish people were less fixated on their weight- if everyone was stick thin with big tits it would be attractive to be different. I wish that PE teachers weren't so damn scary. I wish that men didn't sometimes have scary stalkerish tendencies. I wish that it was okay to do whatever the hell you wanted, as long as it didn't involve hurting someone.

I wish there was a TV channel devoted solely to ice cream.

Labels: Poetic licence

Labels: Stuff

I've never known what I want. I've always had a vague idea that I'd like to do something great- be remembered in some completely unique way. But I've never actually known what it was I wanted. Maybe to be recognised as a brilliant writer, but even with my hazy view of reality I've always known that that isn't ever going to happen. Even if I did manage to get published, the likelihood of me actually gaining a decent wage from it is negligible. So I write for the hell of it about whatever else is happening in my life.

I thought that I wanted to fall in lust with someone. But I've fallen for someone who I don't exactly lust over. I just totally adore him for his personality. Believe me, that is not how I ever envisioned myself falling for someone. I used to be good at being with them then leaving them. But this one, somehow I can't get rid of him. I know, I was messed up enough to try. When I first met him I got off with him because I was bored and I wanted to annoy one of my exes who was in the club and giving me evil looks. Tom, the ex, kept on looking over and when we were left alone together he literally ran away. I have an ego and that bruised it. I didn't want to get back together with him- he was a complete bastard to me. But I prefer it when people don't run away from me like I've got the plague.

So when I was left alone and depressed, and not just a little rejected, it was a relief to be hit on by someone relatively friendly, and most importantly, not running away. He was sweet and he took the piss out of me rather than hitting on me with the usual cheesy chat up lines and leering looks. I guess I was just surprised by something that I wasn't particularly used to. I gave him my number because Tom's best friend was watching. I kept texting him because it was absolutely impossible to blow him off. Every time I tried, he did something that made me rethink my choice and put it off. It isn't exactly fairytale, the whole thing just makes me sound like a bitch.

After an unconventional start to the whole thing, we ended up spending New Year's eve together. It was a house party. As soon as we arrived he pissed off in the opposite direction and didn't come back for an hour. I was ushered off by a sadistic woman who decided that my friend and I looked "helpful" enough to carry a huge crate of diet coke to the kids who were unfortunately under age. The whole thing was patronising and the house was threateningly large. We eventually found the scary old man who stereotypically had rosy cheeks and a large bottle of champagne. Handing us glasses we made our way back towards the corridor in which people were starting to congregate. When he came back I wasn't happy. He did try to apologise but as soon as he'd finished he was off again.

I spent most the night angry with him. He didn't care when I was hit on by someone else and took the piss out of me because of it until I threatened to leave with the other guy. Basically he treated me pretty crappily. I've always known that I needed someone who treated me badly. Every time I've been with guys who've been all doting and in love with me I've dumped them out of pure annoyance. To this day my favourite ex is a guy who never committed to me at all and played so many mind games it felt less like a relationship and more like a competition for who could piss the other off more. That's the way I function. If I'm not kept on my toes I feel like I'm the one pulling the strings. And that I am just makes it more impossible. Some girls need to feel like they're loved, I need to feel like there's a pretty good chance I'll be dumped.

But I do like him. And I don't really know whether that's good or bad. It's nice to feel like I'm not after someone for looks only. God, I'm probably only after him for his sense of humour. And maybe the fact that he's six foot four. That helps.

Labels: Being the Duck, Courting, Falling, Flying

Have finally recovered from New Years eve/day. Tried going out on new years day after finally getting home mid afternoon, but apparently I am just not the hardcore drinker that half of the town is. My friend was out for thirteen hours, but she stayed home on new years eve. God knows how, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I just wish everything didn’t smell so much of smoke. Anyway, in the general spirit of it all, here are my new years resolutions:

• Not get overdrawn on my bank account due to frivolous spending of imaginary funds on sites like ebay and amazon.
• Pay phone bills as soon as I get them- not two weeks and six angry letters later.
• Not kiss other men on the neck in front of present boyfriend. Or maybe not kiss other men at all? Will have to revise that one when I decide.
• Be more decisive.
• Be horrified rather than mildly impressed when I don’t stop drinking for thirteen and a half hours straight.
• Drink less and less often.
• ALWAYS carry a condom.
• If said condom is brought, remember where I put it before I got into bed.
• Revise rather than sitting on the internet trying to think of some decent resolutions.
• Learn how to head bang.
• Make sense in most, if not all, conversations.
• Be nice to everyone (I’m already ahead with this one hehehehe).
• Take part in some sort of charity. Maybe help in a place that gives soup to the homeless or similar.
• Keep a boyfriend for a period of at least two weeks.
• Psycho-analyse people less.
• Learn how to fly an aeroplane.
• Date someone with their own plane.
• Sabotage someone’s wedding. Probably christine’s.
• Be less happy, am sure its not good for me. I could die or something from grinning too much.
• Fall in love. Not just lust or like. Actual love. Somehow I think this one may take longer than a year to be fulfilled.
• Not sit by the phone for anyone ever at all. Ever ever ever ever.
  

Labels: Stuff