At work once again. It's very hot inside as the windows are a little old and crumbley, so we're scared of opening them incase they break and we have to pay to have them fixed. I do not feel well. A mixture of a cold, hay fever, being too hot and generally pining to go outside and play in the sunshine. Going to Whirl-y gig with Braham tonight, so should feel worse tomorrow and bake thoroughly throughout the night. Never the less, I will wear trousers and be too hot. I am having a 'my legs are no necessarily fat but do look awfully weird compared to normal people's' kind of a day. Sitting around in the reference section reading Vogue and pondering whether I have any clothes I'd like to wear is quite a nice way to spend the day. Luckily it's extremely quiet so I only have to do my job and no one elses. Though, they have started training me for customer services. Which I had managed to avoid for over a year. Ah well. Going to Broadstairs sunday night, return tuesday, going to Bristol to get lift to Beautiful Days, rents away when I get back from Exeter. I'm busy and it's lovely. Go a bit stir crazy when left to my own devices.
Fancied a chat with someone girly who would put everything into perspective for me. After an afternoon of unsatisfactory argueing (or 'one sided discussion' as it could be called). Sadly phone call with Selena, which was what I needed, was mostly the sound of Nat being hit with a bottle and vague speak of topless beaches (they are on a 6 week tour of Europe, not sure I approve of romping around europe with your ex, but hey, who am I to judge...). So, I am left with this great big feeling of... sigh. Just big sighs really. I am acutely aware that I do not listen to people enough and speak too much. Also that I am unable to have grown up discussions because I burst into tears, or more commonly, do not speak incase I burst into tears. I am incredibly touchy when the subjects; future, education, degree subjects, 'what do you want to do/be?' come up. When Colin's ex and mine are thrown into 'conversation' aswell I turn into a big, hurt, spited child. I am very sorry that I couldn't just be nice, tell the truth, not be scared of being laughed at. But there's a little voice inside my head that says 'they're going to attack you and then laugh at you, you should be defensive first so they can't get you, don't say anything, they'll use it against you, they wont like you anymore and they'll leave you all alone', so I'm not me, or not nice. The little voice shouldn't apply to anyone really, especially not my boyfriend. I know that afterwards. But then it's all been said already and I'm the bad one. It's a little confusing, feeling guilty and hurt at once. I'm guilty because I didn't tell him that after seeing his life, and the lives of people he knows, I want to change mine. The thought of going to university doesn't make me happy. Neither does the thought that I may never get anywhere. I've got a thousand things I want to see and do, none of them involve getting a brilliant education. And I'm hurt because. But this isn't a diary, and it's a poor substitue for a sympathetic girlfriend's ear, so I wont pour my heart out.
Regardless of the floods, mud and lack of sleep Womad was alot of fun. It seemed unreasonably cruel to have the crew camp site on the most muddy of hills though. Weather was nice for the last couple of days, I have almost tanned, which is an astonishing achievement. I have come to love my freckles:) I recruited 2 (possibly only 1) new minions of darkness to my campaign. Bringing the grand total to 4. Unfortunatly I recruited them whilst abnormally twatted and used slight bribary. I now have to make a 'minion of darkess outfit' and post it off to Totnes. Fool that I am. It was interesting to see the structure of the whole thing (festival) and the amount of work that went into it. As a child who takes most stuff for granted it's always nice to get an inside view to help me appreciate not having to work through the night. Although, having said that, it's going to be lovely to sleep in a bed tonight. 6 nights in a tent filled with mud and fluff and a variety of interesting furry creatures wasn't all that comfy. Even with Colin and his double bed. And men with tipis and tables and chairs and canopys and camp fires and food and drink and trees to wee in and just the most stupid amount of stuff to take camping. It will never be comfortable. Bought a lovely patchwork knitted blanket for a fiver from Oxfam. It's on the end of my new bed, looking nice:) Colin is now kitted out with red-fur lined duffle coat, otter for pocket, top hat and bubble-blowing pipe. A small box of rasins and a silk scarf are needed to complete the beauty of it all. Basically, spending 5 days dressed as a street urchin shipped in from Arabia, wandering about, taking drugs, snuggling, sitting in the sun shine, moisturising Colin's hands, telling children about fairies, getting stuck in mud, shopping whilst twatted, not washing my hair, discussing caterpillars and being very lazy was much fun. I was just asked how come I now quite often have such a revoltingly idylic lifestyle, I think, as I just told them, that it's down to swapping my security for just saying yes to things. It's given me more happiness. And more experiences. Which is what I was looking for from my summer. I hope it continues. The End. P.s. My back does really hurt though.
I am leaving for Womad on Thursday. I booked a train ticket, to be delivered. It has booked wrong and needs to be picked up using my father's credit card (they wont take electron, I always forget). This is not possible. I am really deeply fucking bored with trains and coaches and airplanes and everything else transporting people about in a most twattish manner. Second part of rant; I will surely drown. It's flooding, everywhere. It is not likely I will return alive. I can deal with world music for 3 days. That's fine. I can quite hapilly dance to anything if you give me enough drugs. I can deal with rain. It's nice, it's atmospheric. I cannot deal with having to tie myself to a passing carp so it can tow me to the parly submerged top of a tree, to await a helicopter that will never come. I hate waterproof jackets. I don't really mind wellies, but they are very uncomfortable and I do have ginormous feet, it only accentuates them. Bah. I miss nice men who cuddle you at night time and sometimes make you coffee in the morning. If they're awake and not too grumpy.
What I have been doing. By Laura McHugh I have a coach jynx. It's more upsetting than it should be because for several years I have believed that I am naturally charmed. Generally because bad things don't happen to me. I am allowed to walk around central acton and the back streets of Brixton at 5am. Obviously now I will be slightly more worried about these foolish escapades. But no stabbings yet. Anyway, the upshot of this coach jynx is that me trying to get coaches is a bitch. For example, Colin and I went to get a coach to Bristol on Monday night, missed it. Yesterday afternoon My coach took 4 and a half hours, 2 hours longer than it should. I have actually never been on a coach, on my own, that has been on time. In other news, it's been raining. Alot. Which was fine really as I was either asleep (which would've been really really lovely if Colin stopped turing over and being pot noodley, which is a technical term. Normally comes about when you drink too much, decide that pot noodles are nice and that your girlfriend is not. Ah the evils of drink.)or waiting for or on trains/coaches. Question- in Britain we KNOW it's going to rain. A lot. Possibly on average 362 days of the year, the other 3 days will be really fucking hot. Why is it then that when it rains more than 1.5cm almost all of the transport stops running, panic ensues and we all find it really surprising. It happens every year.
Best thing so far; I put my bed together. With only me for help. Which wasn't very helpful when I couldn't find holes. Then I used my eyes and it was all okay again. I now have a bed:) In quite a nice room. It's no longer all grey, I hung things up an it looks much nicer. It's a real shame that being at home makes me feel so...wrong. But, I do have 2 weeks in August with the house all to myself, which I may possibly spend throwing out all my mothers things just to make a childish point. Apparently I get to go out to dinner tonight:) Which makes up for being at work while very understaffed (apparently Brentford Library got hit by lightning. Biggest happening since Daphne De Maurier was shelved under 'M'), meaning that I am working 2 people's jobs and getting paid for doing around half a person's. I must practice being nice. It seems to have escaped me recently. Though not as much as some men will try and convince you. I do try and be nice, I think nice things about people, but always seem to say the wrong thing at the time. Apolagising apparently doesn't sound sinsere. *big sigh* I vow to complain less, need less ad listen more.
Sheffield. Well, it's certainly not going to be my first choice. A campus in a city? I don't give a fuck what bands come from there, it's a hell hole and it has a tram. My nose is still tickly as it has gotten used to having a ring through it instead of a stud just yet. Was given new green laces for my boots:) This makes me very happy. They are just exactly the right shade of racing green that pleases me every time I look down. Am still unable to find 'Krunk's New Groove' and am now beginning to think it was a trick of my mind. As so many things are.
I have been in Bristol for a few days, returned by coach (don't do it) yesterday evening. I went to look at the uni and stayed with friends of Colins, and Colin and dog. In a flat where the rules for furniture seem to be 'everything must be stolen or it's not coming in'. Luckily, I am stolen, so it wasn't an issue. Other rules include 'Only wash up when all surfaces are covered in dirty things' and 'look after the plants. lots'. It was extremely nice to escape, especially to there. Spent Thursday walking around Bristol on my own. I was given 3 different sets of directions and foolishly followed a selection of them. Yes Colin, I should've listened to you, you are always right and the exception to every rule. After 3 hours of walking up and down main roads, finding a giant motorbike shop, The British Empire and Commonwealth museum, the train station, the cathedral, the harbour and various other points of interest, I made it to the University. It was hot. I was lost. But it was quite nice to have a wander, and discover it's actually a really nice city. Was summoned to pub. Now at work. People just don't say please; 'give me more time on the computer' 'book me on for monday'. PLEASE? I do not mind having to get up and down to help people if they are polite. I have also got my shoes all wet. They're in the staffroom on a portable radiator. I think they're probably on fire by now. I'm going to go check...
I have decided to embark on being a good person. Not a push-over, money lending sucker. But a good person, who's there for people, and eats fresh fruit and veg and knows 'who plays that song'. Having reevaluated my morals I've come to the conclusion that being a good person will be easy and rewarding. I'm aware that some people's idea of a good person is one who does not smoke, drink, use drugs, have sex, loiter about amusing themselves or wear see through dresses. But they are wrong. I am a golden God. My last words on earth? "I'm on drugs" If you don't get that relevant to Almost Famous you're allowed to think I'm a twat:)
humming 'put your records on' by corrine bailey rae
I wish to write down a passage from 'Geek Love' By Katherine Dunn. Kudos to Colin for the lending of said literature. "It is, I supose, the common grief of children at having to protect their parents from reality. It is bitter for the young to see what awful innocence adults grow into, that terrible vunerability that must be sheltered from the rodent mire of childhood. Can we blame the child for resenting the fantasy of largeness? Big, soft arms and deep voices in the dark saying 'Tell papa, tell Mama, and we'll make it right.' The child, screaming for refge, senses how feble a shelter the twig hut of grown-up awareness is. They claim strength, these parents, and complete santuary. The weeping earth itself knows how desperate is the child's need for exactly that sanctuary. How deeo and sticky is the darkness of childhood, how rigid the blades of infant evil, which is unadulterated, unretrained by the convenient cushions of age and it's civilising anesthesia. Grownups can deal with scraped kness, dropped ice cream cones, and lost dollies, but if the suspected the real reasons we cry they would fling us out of their arms in horrified revulsion. Yet we are small and as terrified as we are terrifying in our ferocious appetites. We need that warm adult stupidity. Even knowing the illusion, we cry and hide in their laps, speaking only of defiled lollipops or lost bears, and getting a lollipop or a toy bear's worth of comfort. We make do with it rather than face alone the cavernous reaches of our skulls for which there is no remedy, no safety, no comfort at all. We survive until, by sheer stamina, we escape into the dim innocence of our own adulthood and its forgetfulness."
It seems awfully sad to crave the acceptance of two people just beacuse they brought you into the world. My parents didn't bring me up. Like many, if not most, I was brought up by a medly of Austrian, Irish but predominatly Kiwi women. My father provided weekend entertainment for myself and brother. We do not kiss, hug, talk at length or tell eachother that we love eachother. Yet of course I love them, they are my parents. I owe them nothing and everything. I would like to do well and protect them from all of my short comings for the rest of their lives. I find it quite weird how humans feel a natural commitment to their close relations. We'd quite happily spend 10 years not speaking, but if the occasion ever arose we'd eagerly give them a kidney or our lives. And you can fuck off about 'ah, every generation comes up with the same shit'. An elephant girl never forgets. And rarely forgives. Cover your nipples.