Tonight is the first time I've had one of those random erupting in tears moments in a while. Not really sure particularly why that happened, shocked myself a bit. I'm pretty sure it was nothing to do with the Plagiarism essay I was writing... it didn't really help things though to be honest.
Felt a bit panicky, like I wanted to get away for a moment. Now I've taken a break, finished my work and calmed down a bit I feel oddly positive. Maybe that's because I accidentally picked up my mum's top from the last wash at home, and the neckline is so pretty I may adopt it permanently (sorry ma).
Really I think I'm just really missing travelling. I want to be in different places all the time, I'm dying to get back out there. At the moment money is so tight I can't see myself getting out of this country ever again, and I'd love to go to Europe this year. Especially when people around you are planning all their trips, it's hard to imagine that your summer is quickly looking like you living in a 9 bed house in Reading alone, working and sleeping.
I suppose it's part of the adventure. Just a difficult thing to learn, patience.
Wednesday 25 February 2015
Friday 20 February 2015
Detoxed
"What do you do all day there?" people ask me about being in Wales, with my parents instead of visiting friends in Salisbury.
I read. I tell them. I read and read and read.
I say it like I've always done it but it's a recent thing. Having been a bit behind on the '52 books for 52 weeks' thing, I've just caught up and am ready to plough through my next novel. 7 books down, 45 to go...
The first one I read here was Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. When I saw the film version initially a few years back, I was unimpressed with it. There was too much going on, and it just looked like a badly adapted book. The book is fab.
It made me want to throw in the towel on everything and travel, properly this time, deep into everything. Deeper than the locals would go. I want to see and do so much and it's this ticking time bomb in me. Obviously on hold until uni is over, so must concentrate on now and enjoy it while it lasts, seeing as I'm aiming to travel to learn to enjoy the here and now.
Second book was Daughter, which was a rush-read. It's gone a bit over my head, like binge watching your favourite crime series, only to find out that it would have been better to eek out the process more. Plus the ending didn't satisfy me.
Old family friends are staying for the next couple of days to celebrate the dad's birthdays, theirs tomorrow and ours Sunday. Then I'll be getting a train back to Reading with Fred and diving into catch up sessions and assignments. Hooray.
Feeling refreshed... but can't shake off this god awful cough now. It bites me in the ass every time I want to sleep.
...talking of which. Night.
I read. I tell them. I read and read and read.
I say it like I've always done it but it's a recent thing. Having been a bit behind on the '52 books for 52 weeks' thing, I've just caught up and am ready to plough through my next novel. 7 books down, 45 to go...
The first one I read here was Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. When I saw the film version initially a few years back, I was unimpressed with it. There was too much going on, and it just looked like a badly adapted book. The book is fab.
It made me want to throw in the towel on everything and travel, properly this time, deep into everything. Deeper than the locals would go. I want to see and do so much and it's this ticking time bomb in me. Obviously on hold until uni is over, so must concentrate on now and enjoy it while it lasts, seeing as I'm aiming to travel to learn to enjoy the here and now.
Second book was Daughter, which was a rush-read. It's gone a bit over my head, like binge watching your favourite crime series, only to find out that it would have been better to eek out the process more. Plus the ending didn't satisfy me.
Old family friends are staying for the next couple of days to celebrate the dad's birthdays, theirs tomorrow and ours Sunday. Then I'll be getting a train back to Reading with Fred and diving into catch up sessions and assignments. Hooray.
Feeling refreshed... but can't shake off this god awful cough now. It bites me in the ass every time I want to sleep.
...talking of which. Night.
Sunday 15 February 2015
Detox Week
It's "Enhancement Week" for me right now, which basically means half term. 5 weeks of drinking have broken me, had the mother of all colds, back pain, dizziness, feeling faint. It's been bliss. So I've retreated to the comfort of my Welsh home and am curling up on any surface I can find, to be spoilt by my parents. Absolute heaven.
Need to get back into my reading as well, I've just started Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It's been a big comfort so far, she says early into the book that she's envious of those people who are made for travelling, the ones who can argue with border control people and get themselves out of being mugged. They have the kind of skin colour that allows them to blend in anywhere. She says she can't do any of that, including the stern look you need to have on your face which states to anyone that you're in control. But besides this, her love of travelling remains.
I liked that. Because I was a bit like that, bumbling through travelling, missing some of the best stuff you had to see because I'm horribly lost, and not once did I get offered to go and drink snake blood in some random person's house at midnight. Nor did I skinny dip, get chased by anyone or have to call the British government. In fact, the scariest moment of my travelling was when a fat labrador puppy grabbed ahold of my trouser leg in Peru, which resulted in a lot of me trying to gently kick it and swearing my head off, whilst the two girls I was travelling with were shouting: "You're going to get Rabies!"
I really should become a columnist. Here's a happy frog.
Need to get back into my reading as well, I've just started Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It's been a big comfort so far, she says early into the book that she's envious of those people who are made for travelling, the ones who can argue with border control people and get themselves out of being mugged. They have the kind of skin colour that allows them to blend in anywhere. She says she can't do any of that, including the stern look you need to have on your face which states to anyone that you're in control. But besides this, her love of travelling remains.
I liked that. Because I was a bit like that, bumbling through travelling, missing some of the best stuff you had to see because I'm horribly lost, and not once did I get offered to go and drink snake blood in some random person's house at midnight. Nor did I skinny dip, get chased by anyone or have to call the British government. In fact, the scariest moment of my travelling was when a fat labrador puppy grabbed ahold of my trouser leg in Peru, which resulted in a lot of me trying to gently kick it and swearing my head off, whilst the two girls I was travelling with were shouting: "You're going to get Rabies!"
I really should become a columnist. Here's a happy frog.
Wednesday 11 February 2015
Death is only a part of life
How does one tribute the life of a person? Whenever somebody passes away, we find ourselves awkward, unable to know what to say or how to handle it. It's often said that people are uncomfortable because they don't know what to say, how to comfort. I think it's really because we are forced to question our own lives, and facing the fact that often we have our own interests at heart and no one elses. Personally, when someone I know has died, I find myself questioning whether I'm being indulgent in wanting to go to their funeral. Or whether I have a right to message that person and tell them I'm sorry.
How do I look them in the eye and ask about what happened when I'm just thinking about my own conscience? I'm panicking about how I look to other people. Why they think I'm paying my respects. And knowing I'll ball my eyes out at any funeral is difficult. It looks like a literal 'cry for attention'. I start to think about my life, and what that person meant to me. And identifying the same relationship in my own life and re-evaluating it.
If it's someone you know well, or someone you felt responsible for, you find yourself thinking - what am I going to do with my life that acknowledge's the way they lived theirs?
I wrote to my great uncle for around two years before he passed away this week. I haven't ever really had a wider family, we were very different to both sides. My grandmother, my great uncle's sister, who I tried once to contact, sent me a letter back telling me to have a nice life. So there's no affection there. But her brother, wrote to me and wanted to know everything.
I used to write and tell him about what I was up to and he'd send me some fab type-written letter back about his past or his late wife, with some wicked jokes. I sent him a postcard from every country I visited. I sent him a silly christmas card with a cartoon of some camel's on the front, one of them had those goggly eyes that stick on, and across the top it read 'Oh Camel Ye Faithful'. He was a symbol of the family I had never known.
He was very 'proud' of my writing and what I was doing. And now I wonder how do I remember his life when I knew him so little. He was pen and paper to me. Do I use his person in fiction? Some file saved on my computer... do I have the right to see his funeral? I don't know. I don't really know what's the least attention seeking thing I could do. Write a blog post?
Isn't it funny what death does to us? It is a constant guarantee in life, it reoccurs to those we know well and those we know less. And we are none the wiser. Fascinating.
Wednesday 4 February 2015
PARRDDAAAAY
Well, I got a job. It's one of those catering companies, I'll be booked to do weddings and hold drinks and smile. I might drop things too but he said as long as I don't drop it on the bride it's ok! Touch wood...
The last couple of weeks I've suddenly enjoyed going out clubbing a hell of a lot more. Every night I tell myself I'm not going out all it takes is Ryan to smile at me and go 'you know you want to' and I'm throwing on my partay jeans and some lippy.
But now I think I'm going to find the right balance. Looking forward to some upcoming events, and besides those I can pace myself a bit better. I was a bit behind on my book reading, and when I saw my brother Barney on Monday he saw my 'to read' pile and pointed out that one of the books was two plays in one. He said that counts as two books..
I'm going with that. I read one last night, Rita, Sue and Bob too. It's about two babysitters that start sleeping with the father of the kids and then one of them gets preggers and moves into a flat with him. It was weird. But short. I like short.
Continuing on my emotional, intellectual and physical education this year. Namely three things I want to achieve: reading for intellect, gyming for physicalect [sic], and arty fartying for emotialect [sic].
HOORAY I ALSO HAVE A BROWNIE TO EAT.
The last couple of weeks I've suddenly enjoyed going out clubbing a hell of a lot more. Every night I tell myself I'm not going out all it takes is Ryan to smile at me and go 'you know you want to' and I'm throwing on my partay jeans and some lippy.
But now I think I'm going to find the right balance. Looking forward to some upcoming events, and besides those I can pace myself a bit better. I was a bit behind on my book reading, and when I saw my brother Barney on Monday he saw my 'to read' pile and pointed out that one of the books was two plays in one. He said that counts as two books..
I'm going with that. I read one last night, Rita, Sue and Bob too. It's about two babysitters that start sleeping with the father of the kids and then one of them gets preggers and moves into a flat with him. It was weird. But short. I like short.
Continuing on my emotional, intellectual and physical education this year. Namely three things I want to achieve: reading for intellect, gyming for physicalect [sic], and arty fartying for emotialect [sic].
HOORAY I ALSO HAVE A BROWNIE TO EAT.
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