Tuesday, 12 August 2014

Uncertainty


When I was in nursery, my parents were told that I had the capacity to enjoy myself in any situation. My mum likes to repeat that statement because it's usually true. In the past I have even won prizes because of this - in year 3 we went on a trip to a car museum (the most dull place on earth) but for some reason I had a really great day (I even took a picture of a road because I found it so exciting) and because of this I won 'pupil of the day' and a t-shirt. Then again in year 5 I won 'star of the year' at school (all while experiencing my world falling apart at home). But now I fear that part of me is fading and I'm desperately trying to hold on.


I have just been on holiday with my friends in Portugal. While I was happy with my company, it wasn't the most enjoyable experience for me. After experiencing a panic attack on the first day, I was wary about the whole situation. So while I suffered in silence, my friends shouted "I LOVE LIFE" to strangers and had the best week of their lives. It's nice to observe but there comes a time when you've had enough and want someone to understand how you're feeling...even while not really knowing yourself how you feel and why you feel this way.


At first I thought it was jealousy. I have spoken a lot on this blog about my feelings on jealousy, so you should all know it's the worst feeling. After living with my family for eighteen years, there was no way I could escape thinking life is "beautiful" - instead I see it as all meaningless, just like Woody Allen said, "the future is just the same as the past but longer." So could you blame me for being jealous of my friends' optimistic views on life? Or maybe I'm right and it's stupid to be optimistic and I'll end up having the last laugh? Either way, they're happy now and I'm not so sure what I am.


My mum has always said that once you understand everything is meaningless, everything gets easier. She's told people at her work this theory who have actively come back to her and thanked her for this revelation. While I completely understand where she's coming from, what if I don't want to think everything is meaningless? I mean, I'm an 18 year old woman. Am I not meant to have the whole world ahead of me? Or is that just a stupid thing to say? My head is stuck in an endless cycle of questions that I don't (and probably will never) know the answer to.


I have it in my mind that only positive people get ahead. I have this picture of me in twenty years time, meeting my friends and they have a great job, a big family, and are happy and successful, and I'm exactly the same. Drowning in my thoughts, not getting on. Perhaps I'm being brain-washed by the media who want us to feel being positive is the only way to get ahead just to help out the big guys - that's always my go to answer because it's usually true. Or perhaps everyone worries about this. The future is so uncertain to everyone so if it is all meaningless, this worrying is all for nothing and I'll never get this 30 minutes back.


Sorry for the stress induced from this post. I have my A Level results coming out on Thursday and, to put it mildly, I am shitting myself. I also haven't been writing because my laptop has been broken but now it's fixed! So more posts will be coming from me soon.










Tuesday, 8 July 2014

The Ballad of Maggie O'Hara


I had a rush of inspiration this morning and decided to write a story. I feel that someone one day should write a modern version of 'Tess of the D'Urbervilles' as it still fits with today's society and it would just be so good. Anyway, with that in mind, I have written a little fictional tale about my heroine: Maggie O'Hara. Please, tell me what you think. I rarely write stories but I would like to do it more.


Maggie O’Hara stared at the shapes formed by the iron filings next to the magnet. She made out an image of a lone lion that was staring right back at her. When her brothers and sisters had had enough, Maggie put them away but that image was stuck in her mind and would for many years to come.
Maggie was the oldest of five children whom she had to take care of when their parents worked extra night shifts to get more money, this being one of those nights. However, this time she received a text from her friend asking her to come out. Despite knowing she shouldn’t, she waited until she could hear the slow rhythm of sleeping children snoring and snuck out into the darkness which swallowed her whole.
This was not like Maggie. Perhaps she was tired of missing out or she needed to escape from her claustrophobic, prison-like home. Either way, as she was running to greet her friends, she felt the soft prick of the night’s cool air on her face. Protectively beside her she saw the lion running with her, the paws thumping in a chanting rhythm. She cracked a smile as she ran with the beast feeling free.

As Maggie and her friends entered the club, Maggie felt like someone was watching her. Assuming it was just guilt for leaving home, she brushed it off and carried on dancing. However, in the dark corners of the room, a tall, ghostly man had spotted her and could not look away. Watching her dance perfectly to the beat of the music was hypnotising, like a feather floating perfectly with the wind. It was as if everything had slowed down and he could even see the soft hairs on her arms swaying to the rhythm. She danced like a dream and he was unable to look away.
Maggie noticed the man staring and she suddenly became very still and anxious. She was here to have a good time with friends and she didn’t want anyone to ruin that. Maggie walked to the bar to get him off her mind and ordered a drink, unaware that the man was also on the move.
Maggie felt a gentle brush on her hips and turned around. There, standing in front of her, was the man in the corner. Up close he was handsome with piercing blue eyes and a subtle beard that made him look manly, but there was an essence to him that made Maggie’s soft brown eyes turn sharp and scared. She turned back to the bar, trying to ignore him, when he moved a section of her hair away from her ear which made her stop dead still as he whispered, “let me buy that for you.”
There was a hint of laughter behind his speech making Maggie feel more wary. She looked straight past him to catch a glimpse of someone she knew but she couldn’t against the crowd of people dancing. She looked up at him with her innocent eyes and agreed.
She quietly gave thanks and started to leave when she was pulled back harshly by her wrist,
“Hey! You owe me a dance!” 
The man looked at her as if she was his prey. Brushing his hand off her wrist, she shouted over the music, “I don’t owe you anything,” and turned back into the crowds of people as the man watched her leave.
Maggie found her friends but decided not to tell them what happened. Instead, she continued to dance and held the tears back, feeling completely degraded and small.

It had passed 2am when Maggie became tired and her mind was clouded by the alcohol. She stumbled to the toilet on her own and sat in the cubicle trying to regain her thoughts. The graffiti written on the cubicle door was spinning but she thought she could just make out the letters, ‘S.O.S,’ which imprinted on her brain. 
When she left the toilet she felt a warm hand on her shoulder guiding her to follow. She suddenly felt the hit of the cold night air on her bare skin making her feel extremely vulnerable. She had no idea who she was with, where she was, or where her friends were and the alcohol she had consumed meant she could not find out. 
She felt a hard push on her chest as she hit a wall behind her causing panic to rush around her. The hand that felt like a safe guide was now touching her in places she had never been touched before. She was unable to move, the fear that consumed her had glued her feet to the floor, making them heavy like bricks. 
Her skin felt delicate against the cold, hard wall she was leaning against. Her eyes were wide with fear as the dark silhouette had begun to form in front of her and she saw those two blue eyes that had drowned her mind in the club before. Her mouth began to form a scream which was cut short by his rough hand, leaving him to only see her brown eyes full of fear. 
The night had surrounded them. The man could not be seen by anyone and Maggie could not be saved. She felt the hard thrusts form a rhythm of constant pain all over her body making it become weaker and weaker at each hit. His eyes stared constantly at her which had formed salty tears that landed on her hand that was still on her mouth.
There was nothing she could do. She felt hopeless and stupid as she saw the once protective lion look on at her pityingly as she was bound to the male hand’s of a stranger. 


Monday, 23 June 2014

The Other Side


It's a week today since my last exam. I've spent my freedom reading, thinking and going out 'til 4am with my friends. I guess, at 18, I finally feel like a proper teenager. But all these late nights have finally caught up on me and I'm tired all the time. I guess it's good I decided to save the late nights until after college. It seems I have this weird thing where I think I'm different to how I actually am. I think I'm better and I ooze that confidence when I'm out, but it doesn't fit. It's not my personality, but my looks. I just can't decide if it's a good thing or not?


We will never be able to see ourselves, only our reflections and pictures - to me, that seems really strange. I wouldn't ever say I'm the best looking person, because I'm not, I've never thought that, but I do always think I'm better than I actually am. When I walk down the street, I don't think about my chunky thighs banging together, or my round tummy wobbling. I imagine myself as someone else, someone that doesn't exist, someone with a lot of confidence, who can get up in the morning and leave the house with a smile on their face. I don't do it in order to do those things, I just naturally picture myself like that. Sadly, you can imagine my disappointment when I expect so much but get so little because of my imagination.


You can imagine my shock when I see photographs of myself, or I look in the mirror. But even then, I don't hate myself. But I don't change myself when I know I can and probably should. I have one life, or so they say, and this is what I'm trapped in. I think this persona I have in my mind is me, just not who I'm projecting.  Sometimes I feel like unzipping this current layer and stepping out as the person I assume I am - but it's never that easy. It seems this is similar to the 'fake it 'til you make it' saying - perhaps this is what I'm doing. Or maybe I'm just mental.


Perhaps I don't ooze this confidence, but I feel like I do. I'm an introvert, sometimes. It always depends who I'm with. With my friends, I breakout of my shell and this is when I'm this 'other' person. I do like to think that this must be the real me. I feel like this is what Allen Ginsberg was like, or maybe he really was just a confident, pretentious twat. Or the same with any other poet, writer. I feel like you need this other side of yourself because without it, will be ever have art with meaning? If people were fully their confident type, art would be selfish. Without confidence, we would live a lifeless existence without literature to get us through it.


Well, I don't know where my mind is going with this. I didn't plan for that ending, that's for sure. Maybe it's because I recently finished an amazing book (The Song Of Achilles by Madeline Miller) which I think you should all read. If you've read a really good book recently, please recommend it to me, I'm in need, now I've finished my book, I don't really know what to do with myself. Also, now I've finished with my a levels, maybe you'll be seeing more of me...or maybe I'll still be stuck in my writer's block. Either way, keep sending me messages to inspire me please.

(Just had to, look at that moustache - oh and relationship like Paul and Linda's please: favourite song at the moment.)

Saturday, 24 May 2014

The green eyed monster inside me


It was my last day of college today. Two years of boredom and unhappiness have finished in a flash. I remember myself two years ago. I thought everything would change for me. Thanks to college, I now don't get my hopes up for anything - it means I'm never fully disappointed. But I'm the type of person that feels so much, while I experience so little. Perhaps I don't take enough risks. Perhaps I'm too shy. Either way, I'm very underwhelmed by it all.


I'm a hopeless romantic who's hopeless with love. I've gone through life watching everyone else experience the things I want to do, but I've just stayed put. Instead, I feed my emotions with exaggerated shit just to feel something new. Romantic films, books, music. You name it, I've used it. My mind has been drowned with romanticised views on love that will never happen, so I'm constantly let down. While I've stopped getting my hopes up, when I see it happening around me, I get so jealous it's hard to hide it.


I read something this week by a nurse who recorded the most common regrets of people on their deathbeds.  One which stuck with me was 'I wish I had the courage to express my feelings.' To me, that means taking risks. Opening up with people, but I always stay so guarded. I felt I took a major risk going to a different college to my friends, but that turned out to be foolish. In turn, no one knew the real me while I was there. I never made 'friends for life', in fact, I disliked most of the people. I know that was my own fault.


It's like one huge cycle. I take a risk, I close off, I dislike the people, I notice other people make friends, I get jealous. But we're all learning. It's all human nature, but in return, we learn from these mistakes. However, from looking at my past notebook entries, I don't always change. It's funny to see I've written the same things down from 5 years ago, 3 years ago to now. History, for me, really is repeating itself.


I still have my exams left, but technically I'm done. "The end of an era" is a common thing I've heard from people. Really though? Two years and nothing happened.Well, I did find a new love for David Lynch. I started to fully appreciate more literature. I realised that my parent's music really is a cut above the rest. But most of all, I did grow up. I am a different person despite my inexperiences. One person who has experienced one thing, may not have experienced what I have. We're all different and I need to stop comparing myself with you all...and you're the same.

 

Thursday, 27 March 2014

Writer's block

I have a severe case of writer's block and have for a few weeks now. I'm currently home alone on a Thursday night and I have just watched the last episode of Girls series three and now I'm sad. I also have this constant worry about exams which are in eight weeks time but yet I do nothing. I don't ever fancy coming home after crappy college and then going straight into work again. But, who does? As my mad Gran said this morning, "We all have to do things we don't want to do." (She's crazy and selfish so I was surprised by these wise words).
I haven't been able to think of any good ideas for a new blog post. The last post I was happy with was the one about being 'cool' but since then, my morale has just spiraled down. I miss my blog when I first started and I was talking to all you guys and we would give each other awards but now I feel closed off. I miss talking to you and giving advice and asking for advice. I always seem to do that. As soon as I feel comfortable, I start slipping away and need to be dragged back. So if anyone fancies a chat, then I'm up for it. I'm always here.





All photos from tumblr of course.

Thursday, 6 March 2014

My youth is gone like a dream...


I finally turned 18 last week! I'm an adult! That must mean that I won't be posting any more blog posts moaning about life...oh wait, I'm still technically a 'teen' and everyone moans about life, not just teenagers, right? Other than turning 18, I've also gone past my 1 year anniversary of having this blog and, oh god, do I moan a lot. But, everyone knows, and seems to forget, it's hard growing up. I had the nicest email from Rosalindis last week and it made me realise that I'm not alone in my struggles and that's comforting for me. If anyone else would like to send me an email about anything (nothing rude though) then my email is at the bottom of my blog.


I do know how lucky I am. I have great friends and through that I have been able to do amazing things with them. One of my friends, for my birthday, got me loads of photographs of our fun times together. While my family were looking through them, each one said how lucky I was and they never had a teenage life like it. I know. I'm super lucky. That doesn't mean that things still don't get me down. Everyone feels down at some point. College gets too stressful or your friends are having an argument. Either way, we all want somewhere to vent...weirdly enough, I choose to do that online where anyone and everyone can read it.


Rosie also said something that made me scream in my head "YES, YES, YES! You get it!" "I guess going over the top is the whole point of being a teenager. If we cant be radical now, then when can we?!" We're all a bunch of mopey teenagers that feel like they have something to say and want to say it. What's the harm in that? And that idea has been going on for centuries. I'm currently doing coursework comparing Charlotte Bronte's 'Jane Eyre' with Jean Rhys' 'Wide Sargasso Sea' and both of those authors were incredibly grumpy. They lived with their heart of their sleeve. My favourite quote by Charlotte Bronte was when it was her birthday she wrote, "My youth is gone like a dream; and very little use have I ever made of it." I like to think that we're all wearing our hearts on our sleeves like Charlotte.


Jean Rhys also said one of my favourite quotes,
 “When I was excited about life, I didn't want to write at all. I've never written when I was happy. I didn't want to. But I've never had a long period of being happy, Do you think anyone has? I think you can be peaceful for a long time, When I think about it, if I had to choose, I'd rather be happy than write. You see, there's very little invention in my books. What came first with most of them was the wish to get rid of this awful sadness that weighed me down . I found when I was a child that if I could put the hurt into words, it would go. It leaves a sort of melancholy behind and then it goes.” 
Whenever I write, it's usually because I'm unhappy about something and want to be rid of it. Jean has literally managed to get my whole concept of writing this blog in a paragraph, and I love her for it. I like to think that each generation of teenage girls are filled with hopeless romantics like Jean, Charlotte, me, the people who read my blog and the people I follow. It's not that we're not 'lucky' it's just sometimes life gets us down and we like to write about it. We might over-emphasise a factor of something, but isn't that just to engage the reader more? Isn't that what you do when you're a hopeless romantic? So many people have made a living out of it so we must be doing something right.



Thursday, 6 February 2014

Fake it 'til you make it?


I'm quite a shy person when it comes to talking to new people. If I'm surrounded by others, then I won't be. It's a strange thing, but I seem to be more confident with people than on my own.  Maybe they're a kind of support for me? I don't know. But one thing I do hear often is the phrase - 'Fake it 'til you make it'. And I've struggled to understand it. If you're already shy, how are you able to 'fake it' in the first place?


If I have to have a one to one meeting with a teacher or something, I automatically feel nervous about it. No matter what it is. In the past, they haven't gone well (with me ending up crying) so maybe I'm haunted by the past. But anyway, yesterday, I had to talk to my vice-principle about something and before going in I had 'fake it 'til you make it' circling in my head. I walked in. Sat down. And fought for what I wanted. I came out and my face was bright red, but at least I didn't cry. Maybe it was because the man I was talking to was really patronising and I felt that I had to show him that I can speak up for myself. Or maybe I did in fact....fake it. Either way, I got the outcome I wanted.


But in the past I've pondered on this phenomenon. It doesn't make sense to me that someone who is naturally shy would be able to fake it. I have some sassy friends who repeat that phrase to me but ever since I've known them, they've always been confident - they couldn't have been faking it when they were eight...could they? I feel so much admiration for them, because to me, being sassy with teachers is hard, but they get their way. I'm confident at home, with my friends, outside of school. But there's something about college/school that makes me quieter.


College is a place, for me, where I go in, get the stuff done and leave. I work hard and in return, I don't want it to stress me out - even though it of course will. I don't want to be embarrassed by getting a question wrong and I don't want to annoy teachers by pestering them about stupid little things. However, this year, I've started doing those things. Every Friday I go and pester my tutor to ask if I have to go to tutorial that day and even if the outcome isn't what I wanted, I'm pleased I did it. I still rarely ask teachers for help but I do have a rapport with them, which is hard in a class of thirty.


What I guess I'm trying to say is that, I don't think I'm 'faking it', I think I'm growing up. Talking to grown ups gets easier once you get older and I seem to have only realised that after my meeting yesterday. I'm actually so proud of myself. My 15 year old self would have given in but here I am, two years on and I now have less stress to deal with. I don't think I'm going to suddenly become really confident in classes but I'll get there in the end. It turns out instead of faking it, I have to wait to make it.