Baby Born

Today, I have felt old.

One of my close friends gave birth yesterday. A little chubby cherub. I don't know quite how to feel about this. For the last half of this year, I have known she was pregnant. Six months seems like it's a long enough time to get used to the idea, especially with an ever-increasing bump presented in front of me. Yet somehow, it's still so strange. 

It's the first of my friends to have a baby. It wasn't planned or expected, but it happened and now she's a real person in the real world and one of my school mates is a Mum. It's weird. None of my friends are even husbands or wives, let alone parents, so to have a mum among us makes it extra peculiar. 

We're growing up. I am aware, it will be a snowball effect. This was accidental, outside of the usual course of things but in a few years' time, one by one and all at once, people will be getting pregnant on purpose. I will be gulping at the extortionate expense allocated for sequential hen-dos, all happening within a months of each other. I feel like we are quite in limbo at the moment, at this age. There are careers, there are long-term boyfriends, there are mortgages, but there are no marriages or families. All of that is soon to come, has now started, and the anticipation makes me slightly anxious. Who will end up tying the knot; who will end up breaking up? Who will be the next to get pregnant? Will the baby's parents' relationship survive on this tiny thread of life which it has developed around? What will change in six months' time? Where will we be in five years' time?

Where do I belong forever, in whose arms, the time and place?

Flitterbox: Avril Lavigne ~ My World

Forever Lost

Today, I have felt conflicted.

I want to read more. I want to watch more shows, dramas, series, films. I want to blog more; write more; say more. I want to say less; do more. I want to get out more; I prefer staying in. I want to craft more; creative pursuits frustrate my perfectionist nature.

I want a new job; I couldn't ask for better benefits. I want more money; I have plenty to live on. I want to drink more alcohol; but why? I want to drink less alcohol; but I hardly do already. I want to consume less dairy; for the cows. But what is pasta without cheese? What is tea without milk?

Tea with an alternative milk is a coagulating nightmare.  It doesn't mushroom up to the top when you pour into the cup; it drops, densely to the bottom, like it doesn't belong. It has a life of its own, it is lava bubbling up to the surface, constantly shifting, changing, moving. It tastes okay; I could get used to it.

I want to feel settled. But I've been told that in my twenties it's perfectly normal not to be so.

Flitterbox: Crowded House ~ Weather With You
Flitterbook: We Were Liars ~ E. Lockhart

Two Hands

On one hand, my nails are perfect and the skin unblemished. On the other hand, I am covered in scratches and chipped polish.

On one hand, my job is not the worst in the world. I work autonomously; I get paid regularly. I do not work above my contracted hours and I do not think about work outside of those. On the other hand, I need a new job; a challenge; a chance of progression; a stretch of my skills, before I get too comfortable and unable to branch out. 

On one hand, a relationship is a whole lot of effort and expectation that I can't be dealing with right now. It's not something I want; it's not something I'm looking for. On the other hand, it is quite nice to have another hand to hold.

On one hand, I must try harder. On the other hand, I can't quite muster the motivation to do so. 

Flitterbox: Laura Marling ~ Goodbye England (Covered in Snow)

Otterly Odd

"We should meet up more often"

We met by the penguins, it was quite fitting. Sort of awkward at first, but once the ice was broken, the quips were served and as we passed by the monkeys, we were well into the swing of things. It was weird, but not in an obvious way. Much of the time, we found ourselves falling in step as a pair, behind the rest of the group and conversation flowed easily and enjoyably. There were a few smart remarks that left an impression, but no blood was drawn. After the camels came Camden, complete with chips, caps, cupcake corsets and cocktails. Unfortunately, train strikes called for an early end to the events; I accepted the offer of a walk to the station. While we'd been together and talking about all sorts for most of the day, the five minute stroll was the first time we'd spent together without the others within reach. Questions were ventured. Cheeks were flustered. Answers were not forthcoming. It was weird, in an obvious way. 

"It was nice to see you again"

We hugged. Holding tighter than necessary, but not for long enough. A squeeze of the arm and a brush of the fingertips and that was it. That was that. 

What was that?

Flitterbee: Damien Rice ~ The Blower's Daughter

Hooking Up

“You are so on the hook!”

Meaning: You are being strung along by a person whom you find attractive, but who has no intention of becoming your partner.

Whose fault is that? Two people: one would like to go out with the other. The other just sees the two of them as friends, nothing more, but perhaps enjoys the attention that arises as a result of being the object of someone’s affection. The pair have had a previous exchange in which intentions of each have been made unambiguously clear. Yet, they still hang out, they still chat, because they enjoy each other’s company or conversation or whatever.

Which is all fine and healthy, right?

Fruit Cake

In Soviet Russia, cake consumes you. 

In a strange twist of Pavlovian conditioning, eating Christmas pudding now reminds me of my birthday. Six months ago, someone gave me a sweet and suspiciously sticky Soviet-style cake that if I was sensible and cautious, I probably wouldn't have tasted, because I'm not sure how much I could trust where it came from. But, hey, who am I to refuse free cake? So, I took that leap of faith, and settled down to a warm fruit-filled, cream-covered slab with a hot cup of tea on a sunny May afternoon, a calm moment amidst all the anxiety and trauma of my final examination season.

Sometimes, cake saves your life at the moments you least savour. 

Soupy Squash

Flitterbox: KT Tunstall ~ Fade Like A Shadow

Blackberry Picking

Today, I have felt the fall chill.

It's coming to the end of summer. Start of September, you know the drill. Except, except, this year it's different. This year, for the first time in eighteen years, I will not be going back to full time education. This year, for the first time in over twenty-two years, I have no planned out path for my immediate future.

It scares the hell out of me.

All Nighter

Today, I have gone to bed at 7am.

I have a presentation to write, practise and present for Monday. I went out last night.

It was a friend's birthday barbecue. So I mingled, and I chatted and I didn't eat much and I haven't drunk in ages, so I was more than a little bit tipsy on only half a glass of wine. But it was fun. And I felt quite young, seeing as the friend is a postgraduate, consequently, most of his friends are of a similar age or status. And I felt quite girly, as the friend is male and studies science, so most of his friends are also boys. Or men, if you think mid-twenties is probably old enough to not be a boy anymore.

Later, we went out to a bar and onto a club, but the birthday boy and various friends went home and in the end it was just three girls. So I sat in the middle and I got my ear chewed off, hearing from my right and my left about boys, high hopes and dashed dreams. Although, I could see this coming from a mile off, what can you say to comfort a girl when that happens? Because, sweetie, it's clear he's just not that into you, there's no maybes about it. And I know you can't forget, and I know it's hard to stop wanting  and I know it's mighty frustrating waiting for something that may never come about, but now you've bitten the bullet and asked the question, so somehow, somehow, you just have to let it go. It's horrible being rejected, it really is, but it's better to try than to never know.

Don't ask; don't get. 

So, we stayed in the club 'til gone three am; they bought some chips; we met some new friends and all of a sudden, it's light outside and I'm going to bed at the time that my alarm should go off. Crazy. I am very, very tired and I have absolutely lost all motivation to study at all. I went past the point of caring a while back, and it's terrible, but I just can't do it. I've spent the day listening to the radio and identifying with almost every song they play. I've eaten waffles and pasta and cheese and flapjack. I haven't had enough sleep. I want to cry. A lot. 

This blog has become awfully autobiographical of late. 

On the jukebox: Dixie Chicks ~ You Can't Hurry Love 

Break Point

Today, I have an aching elbow.


"Never fall in love with a tennis player. Love means nothing to them"

You know, when you're playing tennis with someone, a pleasant pastime for a sunny afternoon, it's good to get a little rally going. Nothing too competitive, just a few hits to and fro, keeping your mind and feet active without getting too exhausted, counting up the hits as you go. But after a while, you want to step up the game a little. It's no fun if one person is constantly missing the points, but it makes it more exciting to make the other player work a little harder, you get a kind of satisfaction from being able to get one up on them. As long as it stays just a friendly game, jovially batting it back and forth, there's no harm done. However, once you start trying to catch each other out, really slamming down the ball, whacking it way across the court, so hard they couldn't possibly try to bounce it back, or sneakily just tipping it over the edge so they don't quite see what you did, it can start to become less of a friendly banter and more of a bitter battle. It's not as fun, then. Perhaps you should stop, slow things down, be more open about the serve you're setting up, and yet, you don't want to do that because although you're not playing to win, you still want to keep score. The thing is, though, even if you do succeed, the victory isn't nearly as sweet as it should be and you wonder whether you should have put down the racket a while back, and just gone for ice-cream instead.

I'm running out of energy, but I'm not ready to stop playing the game.

Stuck in a net

On the jukebox: 3OH!3 ft. Katy Perry ~ Starstrukk 

Spring Forward

Today, I have had a cheese toastie.

It's been a weird week. Full of dates, mates, dangling bait and staying up late.#

First of all, the best football match I've ever been to. That is, the only football match I've ever been to. As I have lamented and rejoiced in before, many of my friends are now boys. Lads who do laddish things like drink beer and watch football. So I went to watch the football with my merry men. It was quite an experience. After the match, we walked home. Most of it was along the canal, and it was lovely and picturesque and romantic and if only one of the boys was A Boy that I wanted to be with, rather than just Friends who I go to the football with. Hey ho. 

Next up, a cinema date that was not a date. That is, two colleagues going to see a film together because it's Orange Wednesday and they are the only ones that wish to see that particular movie. The only snag being the mismatch of sentiment between the two. However, the jury came to the conclusion that it was indeed a Just As Friends meet, and not a More Than Friends date. This involved tears, because rejection -  even when  implict rather than outright - is brutal, but better than the torture of never knowing. Ah well.

So to follow, there was a course social. Involving boys. And when there are boys, there is confusion, there is rarely a way to avoid that. So there were kisses that did not mean what they were supposed to, and inappropriate looks that made for uncomfortable conversations. In the mix was some harmless texting that would perhaps become hurtful, and so by the very act of remaining secret became a malicious act, despite the fact that it was completely innocent. Oh dear.

The rest of the week proceeded in much a similar manner, regarding boys and girls, unrequited feelings, dashed hopes and missed opportunities. An inbalance of attraction: that's what it boils down to in the end. I'm undecided on the whole cross-gender close friendship idea. I think it can work well as part of a mixed group but on a one-to-one basis, only in specific cases. Or perhaps it can work, I just don't think I've ever experienced it myself. Hmm.

In other news: I still have no cake. 

On the jukebox: Eels ~ Hey Man (Now You're Really Living)

Poles Apart

Today, I have been shades of grey.

Nothing is ever black and white, however much one might like it to be. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we all knew where we stood with everyone and everything at any one time? No mystery, no secrets, just a series of ships sailing on open waters. Nothing to hide.

No, thanks.

I like ambiguity; I like the indefinite. If you ask me for black or white, if you force me to choose one face of the coin, I'll reluctantly sit on the safe side of the fence, and avert my eyes from the possibility that the grass might be greener in the other field. I'll set stringent rules, then proceed to break them, willingly. So you're never quite sure where you stand with me.

So I'll choose the safe option. But that doesn't stop me dipping my feet in the puddle of risk every so often. I'll say infra-red, but that doesn't mean I don't want the ultra-violet light, it's just I haven't got the energy to make that transition yet. Plus there's a plethora of wavelengths in between the two that can be fun, too. I could be brown, I could be blue, I could be violet sky. I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could be anything you like.

I like playing with fire, I like dancing over hot coals, I like spinning the roulette wheel and seeing where it lands: red or black; odd or even? Yes, I could lose out. But I could win big bucks. And without a few flames roaring here and there, how would we ever keep warm? I enjoy the thrill of the chase, the swoop of the rollercoaster, the swings and the roundabouts. I don't like a steady path, it makes me think that something will jump out of the corner at any time. Things aren't meant to be straightforward, are they? You expect some twists and turns in the labyrinth of life.

As you may have inferred, I am awfully confused. Terribly complicated and probably not making much sense. I need a cup of tea or a slap 'round the head or both. I need some sleep, is what I need. And less worry and less guilt and less thinking and more letting go, riding with the flow, taking the rough with the smooth even if its unexpected bumps and not ones I've deliberately planted there myself. Because you know, maybe I'll be able to figure it out as I go along rather than needing an elaborate prior plan and you know, maybe it could be worth it.

Good things come to those who wait

On the jukebox: Garbage ~ Temptation Waits - I like to keep you guessing

Christmas Conflict

Today, I have a permanent internal conflict.

That is, you think you want someone to cuddle close to, 'cause it's Christmas and it's cold and wouldn't it be lovely? So you make a choice just for Christmas and it's nice to feel nice this time of year. But the choice can't comprehend that it's just a cosy choice because it's Christmas, and cuddles aren't for life or for longer than this. And even if you say, you say that that is how it is, you can say until you're blue in the face and the heart and yet your words will be lost to yesterday as the actions appear to suggest otherwise and once again, you are lead astray...

I don't mean for it to be this way.

They say we can love who we trust
But what is love without lust?
Two hearts with accurate devotions
And what are feelings without emotions?

On the jukebox: Semisonic ~ FNT

Suspended Reality

Today, I have been in a state of limbo.

I'm not a black or white, in or out, all or nothing kind of girl. I'm a wait and see, let things be, hmm possibly kind of girl. But now I'm at the stage where a decision has to be made: should I stay or should I go? A clear cut yes or no. I need to stop floating about in a fantasy world.

"We're one of those really annoying couples you see everywhere at this time of year, aren't we?!"

Why, yes, yes, it appears that we are acting as if that is the case. And for this moment, this instant, this small window of wonderful opportunity, it's fantastic. Until the bubble pops and we find ourselves crashing back to reality.

On one hand, I enjoy the affection ever so much. I enjoy the attention even more. I want it all and I want it now. But I can't have it all and I can't have it now. And I'm not actually sure if I want it because I want it, or I want it because I want him. I have a feeling it's the former, but I've not had a chance to find out if it's the latter because he wants me so much, I haven't got enough space to figure out my own feelings. Go away, give me a chance to miss you, say goodbye, it'll make me want to kiss you.

On the other side of the story, I enjoy flirtation ever so much. I'm on the lookout for someone to sweep me off my feet, I don't want to settle for something that is less than fireworks and butterflies, at least at the start. The distance is an issue, as is the whole needing to do well in the workstuff and for that, I don't need the distraction, because I am easily lead astray as it is. That's the logical, sensible side of it.

However, we have fun together and I long for that comfortable couple thing, so much so that I'm giving the wrong impression, up and down all over the place and I'm not just talking metaphorically. Actions speak louder than words. I kind of like the you're amazing affirmation and the random texts of amusing observations. I kind of like having someone there who cares about what I have to say. I tend to make things difficult for myself by blowing hot and cold, handing out mixed messages and misleading signals, left right and centre. But I'm not trying to play a game, I am genuinely confused about how I feel.

I don't really want to start something that I already know will end up going nowhere, because the deeper I let myself fall, the harder the hit will be. And I feel guilty and uneasy being aware that someone is more into me than I am into them. I don't have the time to figure out whether that is absolute, zero versus one, or whether we are just at different stages on the spectrum of attraction and it may take some time for me to get up to speed. I just don't know, I'm not sure and I don't want to be stringing someone along just for a bit of fun, all the while waiting for my knight in shining whatever to arrive out of the dark and show me the sparks I've been holding out for. But well, is there anything wrong with kissing a few frogs along the way?

So someone, please, tell me what to do?

On the jukebox: Katy Perry ~ Hot N Cold - we fight, we break up, we kiss, we make up

Lab Buds

Today, I have been bored.

Research is dull. It's not all world changing and 90% of the time is spent working out what went wrong in the other ten percent. Reactions rarely go as expected, such is the nature of research: there are no definite answers. And you could end up with a fascinating result. Or you could end up with nine months of nothing.

Last year, labs used to be largely about laughs with your mates, among other benefits. Now, labs are rubbish again. Not particulary difficult or strenuous just downright frustrating and tedious. Most of the time it doesn't work and when it does, it's just annoying that it took so long, it barely even warrants the satisfaction that should come with success.

I feel like a first year. I have colleagues, but colleagues aren't friends. They are people you have to spend your days with. And half the time we spend in silence on adjacent computers. There's a lot of waiting around. Waiting for reactions to run, waiting for analysis to come, waiting to press a button at the right time before the world implodes. Or something less severe. There's a lot of waiting around and not a lot of conversation.

That's the difference, I suppose. Undergraduate labs still involved a lot of waiting around, but there was always people, always conversation. It was okay to ask questions, it was okay to talk to your friends, it was okay not to know exactly what you're supposed to be doing. Now, I am a frequent face in at least three different laboratories and I only know a handful of people who I pass on a daily basis. And while there's people I smile at, or have a corridor chat with from time to time, there's far more that I wouldn't so much as make eye contact with, despite the fact that we both know we see each other around all the time. How are you supposed to talk to strangers without the wonderful aid of alcohol? How do you infiltrate the cliques that have so clearly built up their closed circuits that anyone attempting to break in by striking up a menial conversation would be seen as a freak, a weirdo, someone who has no friends of their own, so tries to befriend anyone. What the hell are you doing here? You don't belong here.

I'm not a buzzing socialite, I prefer to have a few close friends. Sometimes, I do just like to sit and think and not have to make small talk with everyone I meet. But sometimes, it gets tiresome just speaking to the same two or three people. Sometimes, I wouldn't mind being able to just chat with someone I don't know that well about nothing in particular. Or just an acknowledgement of some sort.

As much as I hate to admit it, alcohol tends to be the key to building those bridges. Not that I have to drink it, of course, but if it helps me pretend like I'm less of an oddball for just wanting to say hi, then I'll play along. And it works, for an evening. After that, it goes back to 'normal' because without the atmosphere and the alcohol to mask themselves, everyone's too scared to reach out.

On the jukebox: S Club 7 ~ Bring It All Back

Femme Fatale

Today, I have been fazed by complications.

It is Sunday evening and I have once again lost my weekend in a haze of crazy nocturnal activity inbetween lazing around in bed. In fact, my whole week has been unproductive in its entirety.

Here's some tips:

If the boy you're kind of seeing (but not really seeing because you've only actually seen him once so how can you call that exclusive but that's besides the point) calls you up at half two in the morning when you're with your friends who are down for the weekend except that they're not really your friends and you kind of might have had a little thing with one of them at some point, then a) don't answer the phone and b) do not let the boy who you kind of had a thing with but not really and who is quite attractive with an amazingly sexy voice and also a proper Real Doctor take the phone from you and speak to the boy because the boy who you're kind of seeing but not really seeing might think that you're the kind of girl that does that kind of thing every Saturday night, when really, you're not that kind of girl at all.

Oh dear.

I am so so tired. I am so confused. I have been like this for over a week. I have a report due and a viva voce next week and I can't think and I'm not sure and I just want someone to talk to who is a) a girl and b) understands. Someone who doesn't resent me, because it's not as if I do go around suggesting that all of the boys are after me but I can't help it if somehow it's true. I'm not trying to be a homewrecker or a cocktease or arrogant bitch or whatever you want to think, I just want to get along with people. I just want to be friendly and have fun and yes, maybe flirt a little, too. But so can you, you know.

This is why I don't want to drink. I do not like myself when I am drunk. Alcohol is not an excuse.

Oh dear.

On the jukebox: Elton John ~ Are You Ready For Love?

Magic Moments

Today, I have been exhausted.

Weirdest week ever?

Hmm. Hmmm.

Too much caffeine; too little sleep. So many men; so little time. It appears I've been doused in some sort of boynip that means I'm a magnet for males of all sorts. The girl with the golden touch. Beautiful, bittersweet irony. You wait forever for a bus and then...

Honestly, I'm not used to this attention. And seriously, all in one week?

Where did the time go? I feel like I'm drifting along in a fantasy world and I'm not sure whether I want to face reality. Bizarre. I can't afford to be distracted at the moment.

It is really, really odd.

On the jukebox: Razorlight ~ Who Needs Love?

Zoning Out

Today, I have been surrounded by testosterone.

Distracted.

Boys. Everywhere. All the time. Filling my mind and my work and my home and my days and my nights.

I am not a girly-girl. But I am not one of the lads. However, in my type of work, I am in the minority gender which probably shouldn't make a difference, boys are people too, after all. But I miss having girl friends.

I know it shouldn't really be this way, and maybe it's somewhat in my head, but I kind of feel like I'm on display anytime I walk any place. I kind of feel like I have to be extra girly to counteract all the boyish banter that flies around. I kind of feel like I'm being teased or talked about, constantly. I kind of feel like the ladies loo is the only place I can really escape. I kind of feel like sometimes I just need a female there to understand.

Everyone is so far away these days. IT'S RUBBISH.

Frustrated.

On the jukebox: Britney Spears ~ Boys

Minding Gaps

Today, I have felt far away.

I don't think I know of many people in a relationship where it hasn't been long distance at some point. It's practically unavoidable in this day and at our age. And it sucks.

However, most people I know are near each other for at least some of their year/time/life, so what do you do when there's the situation where neither of you lives near each other for any time. When you'll always be at least three/six/twenty-four hours away in between the days you're not seeing each other? I mean, what's the point?

How do you even go about starting a relationship with someone who lives a million miles away? How do you do the whole getting to know you without becoming incredibly intense very quickly because you have no option other than to spend the entire weekend/holiday together, because there is no other time otherwise, you have to fit in as much as you can as soon as possible before it goes away again. And it doesn't just apply to relationships, but friendships, too.

All the travelling and planning and constant goodbyes, it wears you down. Is the result really worth it? Is distance really the deal breaker, or is it something else? How can you ever know when you don't have the chance to find out?

Why don't we all just live in little villages and never venture beyond the bordering woods? And then the people you are closest to emotionally coincide with the people closest in proximity. Sure, life would be less interesting, but a lot simpler, too.

Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out.

On the jukebox: Chris Isaak ~ Wicked Game

Chasing Cars

Today, I have chased.

I'm racing around to try to catch a wisp of a ghost. It's utterly ridiculous and I'm disgusted with myself, but I just can't help it. You know, when you're think you're so over it, so past it, so beyond the need to think about it everyday. You know, you think you've got it made.

But then that shadow of the past collides back into your life and it's so much harder to let go again. Because you know you can do it, you know you've gone x months or whatever without it, but then it happens again and it taunts you with flippant gestures that hold more weight than is intended. And you know it's all a bit of banter; disguising the real meaning and disregarding the history, but at the same time, you hope it's more than just that.

Hope dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
Winding in, winding out
The shine of it has caught my eye

So your friends start gossiping, and that's when the real issues start, because it's easier to talk yourself out of it when you believe it's all in your head, a one-sided mess, but when other people start to notice and comment on it, too, well, maybe there's something in it?

No.

Yet still, I'm leaning on a lamp-post at the corner of the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of a grin, a twinkle in the eye. I don't know why, and I wait all day and maybe if I don't look, it might show? Maybe. But maybe that's not so.

Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing rainbows?
Even if they lead nowhere.

I like to be in control. I do. I like to be right and I like to win. And if I can't win, I tend to not play at all. But apparantly, the regular rules don't apply for this game. I'm fighting a battle I know, for certain, I can only lose. I'm racing around and around, chasing dreams I know I'll never reach.

But you know, sometimes, it's fun to go for a run.

On the jukebox: The Cardigans ~ My Favourite Game - dear, I fear we're facing a problem