Studying Relationships

Today, I have studied.

What do you do in a relationship during exams?

You go to the library together, but don't sit at the same table, after all it's exam season, you can't afford to get distracted, you need to study. You have a little break every now and again, you go and sit outside in the sunshine together or go for a wee walk nowhere in particular. Sometimes, it's nice to have someone to hug when it all gets too much. You go home together, but stay in separate beds, after all, it's exam season, you can't afford to get distracted, you need to sleep. You don't necessarily see as much of each other as you usually would see and your time being together isn't as fun-filled as it usually would be. But at least you're not alone.

What do you do in a long distance relationship during exams?

You see each other before going back to your respective term-time abodes, and wave a long goodbye for the extended length of time you'll be apart. After all, it's exam season, you can't be flitting across the country every other weekend, you need to study. But at least you have the phone.

Alternatively...

You break up with your partner before exams start. After all, it's exam season, you can't afford to be distracted, you need to study. And it's third year. Where can we go from here?

So now, you're on your own.

On the jukebox: Lostprophets ~ Last Train Home - to every broken heart in here.

Heart Autonomy

Today, I have considered a scientific theory.

I haven't fully worked through it yet, so bear with me.

So you have this heart, and it pumps blood 'round your body, right? But it's also the place that hurts the most when you hurt inside your head. So what I think is like, maybe say if your heart has got used to beating to its own time. Your heart is your own, you know how to make it work and sometimes it might get a little deflated, but with a bit of effort, you manage to get it up to speed again.

But then if you see someone, and it lasts longer than a momentary fleeting meeting, your heart can get a bit out of whack by this other person's heart. Your hearts end up having late-night bonding sessions, where they each give a bit of blood, or whatever, to the other and so they're linked together and as well as pumping blood to you, it's also pumping life into this other person, and vice versa, and it's great because, well two hearts are better than one, right? While it's possible to be complete with just one heart, if you have another, it can share the strain if any pain comes your way. So soon enough, your heart isn't as emotionally strong as it was when it had to hold its own. But that's okay, because you have the other heart to back you up, so you can end up overall healthier and happier. But what happens if this meeting with this person is cut short, for whatever reason? Then your pairing heart is ripped out of your body, and your own heart doesn't quite know how to act. It's like there's a hole, except it's not really a hole, it's just a dent in your heart, the impression of the other heart still remaining as it has spent several weeks or months or however long moulding to the shape of your own heart, so it feels weird to not have that kept in place any more.

So it feels really odd, and you need some way to deal with this oddness. Some people, I guess, might try and find some other hearts to try and fit, but the problem is, it takes a while for the heart to mould comfortably, and it's unlikely that the new heart is going to fit exactly to the bumps and dips of the gaps left by the old heart. Then again, even if it's not quite a perfect fit, the mere contact at key points can be enough to satisfy for a while, better than leaving it completely uncovered, anyway, and like plasticine, it's easier to try to mould something that's already there than start completely afresh. Though some people will do that, I guess, try to build the heart up to something resembling the shape it was before it got that great big blow by the other heart. Of course, it'll change every time you do this, but the shape of the heart is changing all the time anyway, you can't hope to preserve it forever. The dents are what gives it character and history. And it may take it a while to get it back to that independent happy girl's heart where your heart is strong enough to take anything that is thrown at it. And who knows, maybe when that happens, you'll find that it'll be able to catch the next heart that tries to mould to it and may be that heart will be the one that sticks.

I dunno how accurate that is, I never was the best at biology.
or chemistry.

On the jukebox: José Gonzalez ~ Heartbeats

Treading Rubber

Today, I have struggled.

You know, when you're on the treadmill, and you start off initially and it's really quite hard going but you push yourself for the first five minutes 'cause you hope it will get a bit easier once you've warmed up. And it does, and for the next ten-fifteen minutes you keep at a steady pace and while the thought of quitting it flitters across your mind every so often, you keep at it, 'cause you know you can. You can keep going, or you can give up. But as it's coming up to about twenty-two minutes you might have a low point where you think, hey twenty minutes of exercise is pretty good going, especially when I doubted I could even do two. Should I stop now? But then you think, hey, maybe I can push it a bit longer, let's see. So you do and the longer you go, the more you forget about how long it's been and yet when you do realise the time that has passed you get this smug satisfication, a sense of achievement as the sweat drips down your face.

So here I am now, I've done quite a long run and yet, it's still not at the point where it's not a struggle to do so. A point where I can honestly say, yes, I have no problem continuing, a point where I don't have to mentally berate myself for even thinking of stopping. The thing is, nobody cares really and you hope that they will notice but in the end, if I'm going to do this, I have to do it for myself and stop being so bothered about what other people think and so I suppose this isn't really about treadmills at all.

On the jukebox: Tegan and Sara ~ I Know I Know I Know

Keep Swimming

Today, I have consumed a packet of chewing gum.

Three cups of tea. Two bowls of museli with honey. The not-quite nervous breakdown appeared again this morning. Half an hour of text messages exchanged and a brief phone call later, the storm has passed.

"You always do great"

True, but that doesn't stop the irrational fear of failure and persistant panic, propelled exponentially by the sight and sound of peers' perfect notes and superior knowledge. Lack of routine leads to a wandering mind, one which is reluctant to return to full concentration once it's left to drift away. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming...

"Fancy trading revision for the real world?"

There arrives the perspective. Of course, revision is tedious, arduous and downright depressing. But probably preferable to the alternative. Revision means that I can afford to spend the day under a duvet and fit in yet another birthday meal (fifth one of the fortnight, win!) in a longer lunch break than would be permitted in The World of Work.

I'm not ready to give this up.

Exams start in two days.

On the jukebox: Anna Nalick ~ Wreck Of The Day <3

First Time

Today, I have done it again.

It's never just once. Smokers say that the first cigarette isn't nice; it's not. But once you've done it once, you might as well do it again. You've broken the barrier, it's not such a big deal anymore. Like sex. Once you've lost your virginity, you can't get it back. From then on, every subsequent conquest is a notch on the bedpost and since it's not the first time any more, it's not so notable, it doesn't matter, whatever.

The first time you get disgustingly drunk. Once and never again, you say. How embarassing, how terribly hungover. Remember how awful you felt? Remember, how you wanted to die? Yes, for a week, a month, a year. But then you jump right back off the wagon, you've coped before, you can do it again. When a boy treats you badly, so you break up. When you know it won't work out, so you break up. When you know he's just not right for you, so you break up, again. But then the time comes around again for you to come around to the idea that maybe we can work around this situation. Maybe. But maybe it'll be exactly the same as before and nothing more? Maybe.

Maybe it won't be so bad this time. I can give it up any time I like. And I will. Just watch me. I will. I'll watch; I'll wait.

Okay, just once more.

I told you so.

On the jukebox: The Bird & The Bee ~ Again & Again

Assessment Stressors

Today, I have woken up late.

Seriously. What kind of student thinks that 8 o'clock is a late start? Probably the kind that spent over twelve hours in the library yesterday, and was hoping to achieve the same feat today. What a geek...

I have the panic. The true, heart-stopping fear that when it comes down to it, I won't do as well as I would like. I really want to do well, I really do, and that kind of scares me a little and kind of surprises me a little as in previous years, I haven't cared so much. Exams had seemed so insignificant in the face of everything else that was up with life.

Even now, I get a slight sense of: what's the point?

But the show must go on, assessment is imminent and the endless notes of half a year's work is staring me in the face and it's all I can do not to stare into space instead of focussing on the task in hand. Oh, I know that it doesn't mean that much in the scheme of things and such and I know ultimately, I will do well enough and if I were to panic about anything, it should be the fact that I barely have anything to put on my curriculum vitae besides the shining examples of my grades of the past five years. And "in the current economic climate", that just won't be enough. But since it's a bit too late to change that at the moment, I have to worry about this instead.

Exams start in a week.

On the jukebox: School of Seven Bells ~ Half Asleep

Apres Anniversaire

Today, I have woken up with a headache.

Birthdays are where it all comes together. If I were a little bit geekier or I had done more revision, I might relate the experience to a specific reaction where the various reagents are put in the pot and react in situ in an unprecedented manner, or compare myself to a particular tri-substituted molecule with several separate branched chains or functional groups attached. However, I won't do that. Except I think I just did.

Three is the magic number. I suppose I could count three or so friends from each of my distinct walks of life - schoolmates, coursemates, housemates - a few people with whom I spend the most time or have known the longest. It's weird, though, when they all mingle in the same environment, where the main aspect they have in common is me. My philisophical-studying friend mentioned how people put on different masks around different people, which is quite obvious really, but a worthy point nonetheless.

It makes it difficult to know exactly how to act when everyone's in the same place - the pressure to perform 'cause you're the one they're focussing on, the stress to impress 'cause it's your special day makes me feel a bit uneasy and to be honest, as always, it was a bit of a relief when the day was over. It's fantastic to know I have people that will take me out for dinner, create home-made snacks and cakes, make the time and put in the thought to try to give me the day and the gifts that I deserve. I really did appreciate it all and it was just about the right amount of attention. But the point is, I don't need extravagant celebrations, or elaborate presents or the everyone-I've-ever-known all together to make it special for me. After all, friendship is for life, not just for birthdays and as ever, small things matter the most.

Friendship FTW!

On the jukebox: Billy Joel ~ She's Always A Woman

Birthday Balloons

Today, I have woken up at 6am.

There were three big helium balloons attached to my door, I've never been twenty-one before. I'm going to the library. And then out for lunch. And then cake and presents.

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!

Happy Birthday, Me!

On the jukebox: Kim Carnes ~ Bette Davis Eyes

Crossing Over

Today, I have butterflies.

Today, I am meeting a friend, right here in this city. This is someone I've known for a while, but we haven't seen each other since like, forever. It's a bit of a weird situation. I'm not quite sure what exactly this whole meeting deal will entail or what it'll be like to see each other after so long, so I don't really want to talk about it to anyone I know; I don't think they'd understand.

But hell, I have to tell someone.

Today, I am meeting a friend.

On the jukebox: OMC ~ How Bizarre

Hammer Head

Today, I have overreacted.

You know, when a kid hits you on the head with his hollow plastic hammer, and you laugh because it's cute and the kid gives a cheeky grin 'cause he finds it pretty funny, too. And then he does it again, and he lets out the sweetest little giggle and so you smile back at him and then he hits a bit harder and does it again and again, but it's not funny any more because actually, small plastic hammers can hurt quite a-frickin' lot when they're being consistently banged against your head, but you can't get angry at the little kid now because you were fine with it about two seconds ago and you played along with the game, so what's changed so suddenly?

Yeah, sometimes I feel a bit like that. And I don't know how to stop it, or how it gets to the point where acting that way is seen as okay.

Meeooww

On the jukebox: Mystery Jets ~ Flakes

Big Sis

Today, I have been the older sibling.

I often adopt the big sister role. I don't know how to play it any other way. I have younger siblings and I have always been the mature, responsible, head-screwed-on one. But my part in this act extends beyond family boundaries. Among friends, I am the look-afterer, the listener, the one who holds your hair back while you're sick in a bucket, the one who you tell when you start smoking, or self-harming, or when you don't know what to do about a boy.

I've never had an older sister, a female role model that is just a few steps ahead. I never know where to go for advice because I'm the one who dishes it out. I don't know how to be vunerable because I am never allowed to be, it would ruin the natural heirarchy and people would lose that sense of security in the order of play as it's always been. The big sister is supposed to know what to do and what to say and how to solve all these problems. The big sister is supposed to be on your side, a guide to the right path to take, 'cause you know, mum and dad just don't get it. I feel like a fool if I admit to feeling less than adequate sometimes, that I'm not up to the job bestowed on me. That I can't stop you feeling like that, that I can't find the words to explain why it's not a good idea, because if I can't convince myself, how am I supposed to expect you to understand?

So, although I don't like to admit it, I like it when you take care of me. I know I am more than capable, eventually, I'd find my own way, but sometimes, it's nice to have someone else take control, to have someone to look out for you, to protect you, to make fun of you when you're being stupid and naïve. Most of the time, I don't mind being the older sister, it makes me pleased to know people feel comfortable confiding in me, that I'm there to lend an ear if they need it.

All I ask is that there's someone like that for me, too.

On the jukebox: The Long Blondes ~ Once and Never Again

May Day

Today, I have a sprained knee.

I slipped down the steps in the rain and my leg is in pain.
It's sunny outside, but what's the point?

I'm still not studying much, I'm still not eating much
I feel like I'm just floating along.

Exams start in three weeks.

On the jukebox: Buddy Holly ~ Raining In My Heart