Saturday, October 27, 2007 

Once I was, Now I am

An albatross can fly for thousands of miles without getting tired. I've always thought that love is similar to flying; therefore we should aspire to be like the albatross.

I’m not an albatross. I can’t fly, I’ll never have wings, and I just don’t have that sort of determination. I’ve been told that some people have dreams that they’re flying, I’ve never had those. I’d love to dream that I’m flying, instead I have crappy dreams where I’m riding a bike along a motorway and that I never get anywhere, or that a giant disco ball falls on top of me, completely flattening me, and just as I’m dying Matt tops it all by breaking up with me using the excuse, “I’m breaking up with you before you break up completely.” Apparently my subconscious has a really bad sense of humour.

So anyway, according to me, one day I’ll meet someone, test my wings and I’ll be able to fly. Thing is, I don’t actually really believe in The One. I hear people talk about it, this ideal we’re all looking for, one person who will complete us, our perfect other halves, the one person who will allow me at last to fly. But, while my belief of The One is limited, if not incredulous, I do believe at least in happiness. I believe that you can find someone who you can spend every night with, and still want to see more of. I believe in someone who can make you that little bit better, that little bit happier.

I never believed in him, I wanted to, I craved to. I’ve always found myself to be lonelier than other people alone are, at the time I didn’t know exactly why, I just sort of thought it was me. I’m clearer headed now, less guarded, less troubled by demons; I know what it is that makes me worse. And I don’t need it confirmed and questioned by other people.

Now I believe in that person because I found him. I found someone who I can spend hours with, and still wish to see more. I found someone who finds it endearing that I’m completely insane. I found someone who loves me regardless of my insecurities, and who I love regardless of his flaws. Its that perfect ideal that I always so hated, the people who are happy, the people who don’t need others recognition or acceptance because they have one person who matters, and essentially everyone else who does not.

I am the albatross; I can fly better than any other I’ve ever met. I don’t have the problems of my egocentric schizophrenic mother, nor my jinxed and perpetually lonely downtrodden father. I no longer have fears of both commitment or rejection, I don’t get depressed, and I’ve kicked my alcoholism to the extent where I rarely drink, and when I do, I do so carefully. From a nineteen year old this all sounds a little to middle aged, but from the shit that I’ve put myself through, it’s finally just an acceptance of life, and happiness.

I have my problems, but they aren’t with myself anymore, they’re the small things that hurt me the external factors. Inside myself, I’m always going to get through them, because inside, after all these years, I’m whole. The battle was fought, the war was won, and whatever happens with my sweetheart, even if we end, it won’t matter because he made me better, he made me happy, and it’ll hurt to lose him, but I’ll never lose the gifts he gave me, or the changes I endured. I can’t go back to the ground once I’ve learnt how to fly.


Monday, October 22, 2007 

Okay so...

Yeah, I know, I lied. But christ, I don't have any sofas, now I'm meant to live without therapy via blogging? I don't think so. (Some of the deleted posts may come back if I feel like it over time, but this a stressful time and place for me right now and honestly I can't be arsed.)

Right, so here's the deal.

My flat is a glorified death trap. The bathroom floor is mouldy, as in green and slightly fluffy. I was just lying there on the floor thinking "Woe unto me being hungover" and moaning faintly, when I realised that as ill as I was, the bathroom smelt really funky. So, about two days later when eventually I'd managed to recover, I lifted the bathroom carpet and discovered a colony growing out of the chipboard.

Those of you who know the slightest thing about building, surveying, generally manual labour type bathroom fitting (obviously not me but my dad told me) will know that chipboard is about the stupidest thing you could put down in a bathroom. It's going to get damp, go mouldy, smell icky, and eventually just collapse. Nice.

So, as a rightfully outraged tenant, I phone up the estate agents, bitch and whinge, and beg for the floor to be fixed. And then while I'm on the phone, tactfully remind him that he'd promised me a new sofa set before we moved into the flat four months earlier (that being the one condition upon which I agreed to live in the place), and that said sofa set had not subsequently arrived.

To cut a long, and very much agonising story short, the agency did absolute fuck all about said floor or sofa set, and I got upset. So we phoned the council, and they got upset too, and we wrote the agency a very professional and ridiculously outraged letter demanding work be done within a week. Three weeks later I'm walking back to the flat, and as I'm walking towards it I realise that the front door is open. I'm the only one in Edinburgh with a key at this point and I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't be seeing it open at this angle had I been inside the flat. Inside is a rather large Bulgarian wandering around our furnitureless flat, he informs me (there are hand movements involved as his English is less than adequate) that he is there to remove the sofas. I ask him to continue and to bring the new sofas and chairs in. He tells me he doesn't have new sofas, he's just removing.

Phone up agency, sofas will be in the flat within two days according to the guy I spoke to. That was a week and three days ago. I've been sat on the floor to watch TV ever since. I'm not especially impressed.

Anyway, apart from the green bathroom floor and lack of furniture in previously advertised FULLY FURNISHED flat, I'm okay except for the fact that yet again I'm being threatened with being kicked out of uni, and my boyfriend is working with me which is just plain weird. I'd like to tell you things are great, but as per usual I'm on the cusp of falling apart and there's only a very fine piece of thread holding me back. Luckily for me, I have a very good habit of bouncing back, and I can always find someone to bounce on to get there.

So, as sporadically and badly as I will write in this, for now I think I'm here for a little while longer, though I can't really be sure.


About me

  • An albatross can fly for thousands of miles without getting tired. I've always thought that love is similar to flying, therefore we should aspire to be like the albatross.

    I don't know if I can do that. So far I haven't been so lucky. But one day I'll test my wings with someone, and flying won't be so hard after all. Or so painful.
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Save the Albatrosses


    * In 2001 one New Zealand fishing boat killed over 300 seabirds in just one trip, while fishing for ling.
    * Each year over 300,000 seabirds are killed by longline fishing.
    * Over the past 60 years some albatross populations have declined by 90%.
    * Annually around 10,000 albatross and petrels are caught in New Zealand waters alone.
  • Save the Albatrosses
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