Uncomfortable Encounters

Today, I have spoken to all of my housemates.

Largely only in passing. It's incredibly rare for us to all be in the house together, let alone the same room. It hasn't been a bad year living together, but it hasn't been a particulary fun one. It's come to the point when I actually want to leave the room when one of them enters, just because I'd prefer to be alone rather than spend a minute in their company. I know it's my problem, I don't want to make the effort, I fuel the awkwardness. It's just slightly weird, because we don't really get on with each other as friends, if I didn't live with them, I wouldn't particulary have the desire to meet up with them. We don't have much in common is a cliché, because that's not really the reason we don't get on, we're just different kinds of people.

Households are often considered as units, it's not impossible to socialise outside of them, but it's a lot harder, especially when you don't all have mutual friends. Living with people, it's bound to be that you know them better, probably consider them your better friends or at least the ones you've known the longest. When that's not the case, it can be intimiating trying to infiltrate another household, because at the end of the day, when they all go to bed, or don't want to socialise for a bit, you'll have to make your way home alone. It's hard, showing up to a party by yourself, even if you know quite a few of the people there, even if you'll still be able to talk to people you don't know. Feeling like a bit of an outsider because they were all in halls together last year, or because they spend all their time together now, and so you can't possibly compete with how well you know them and it would take a lot of effort to try to get to the same comfortable companionship level.

Essentially, this means that often, if I want to go out, it would have to be with housemates. Housemates who will, undoubtedly, go out and spend the whole evening looking for someone to pull. If they find someone, they will immediately dump the rest of the party, who will continue to search for their own piece of meat. If they don't get lucky, they will get grumpy and as ever, will not be much fun to be with. Every time, I really have to try to psych myself up to spend time with these people, I count up the number of incidents that make the night worthwhile - the conversation with the Canadian taxi driver, the flattery aspect of having someone pay for a drink, the impromptu compliments (which are really code for I want to sleep with you, but let's ignore that minor detail), the crazy dancing like no-one's watching, the unexpected encounter of an aquaintance, the meeting of random students in the kebab shop, people completely off their face but utterly delightful with it. I have to mentally take a hold of these small moments, so I can try to ignore how my 'friends' acted the whole evening, to try to remind myself of reasons why it might not be so bad to go out with my housemates every once in a while.

As was mentioned on a comment in a previous entry - I don't regret going, but I don't think I'd regret not going, either. More often than not, when the night is over, I'm glad I went through with it, but I'm even more glad that it is over.

I'm not going out tonight.

So why are you sat at home?
You're not designed to be alone
You just got used to saying "no"
So get up and get down and get outside

On the jukebox: Frank Turner ~ Reasons Not To Be An Idiot - bought this today :oD

Passive Participation

Today, I have sat waiting, watching...

What I find particulary weird about this form of communication is how easy it is to be a passive participant. Often, blogs are more personal than simply views on topical subjects, and more guarded than a private diary. After all, it's open to the whole internet, it'd be daft to explain personal exploits in too much detail. Naturally, most people are aware of what they are saying to the world at large, and will censor their writing appropriately. But it's easy to underestimate just how much readers can gather about you from these words alone, and how it's possible to piece together a history from snips and slithers of information scattered about the place without you even realising they know. Of course, the fact that it's open to the whole internet doesn't mean the whole internet will read it. But do you ever wonder who actually does?

It's odd to think how many people could pass by without even leaving a mark. Oh, I know that it's highly unlikely that I have any more readers than the ones I am specifically aware of, but the point is, it's possible. If someone is following your conversations as you sit on the bus, you would know who could hear. If you see someone on the street, meet their gaze and immediately turn away, it would be obvious. Here, no change is seen - you could click, and click off, you could read intently and not respond. You could not read it all, and respond to only one part, and yet the assumption lies that you're always listening, you know, even if you've made no discernable signal that expresses that.

That's part of the problem. In conversation, you can judge, most of the time, whether people are listening or not - whether what you're saying is interesting, whether people have heard it before - by how they respond. You choose who to talk to, you hope that someone will listen, you give a little, you take a little. With this form of interaction, it's so easy to participate only one way or another. You could type type type and never know if people have heard, or think that no-one's really listening. You could read read read and people would never know how much you know because you never say a word. It's a bit strange.

Increasingly, I'm finding this kind of passive participation happening more in other aspects of my life. Before, you might rely on phone calls or messengers to relay vital gossip. Now, with facebook, forums and the like, you can find out intimate details about someone's personal life without ever needing to contact them directly. It's amazing how easily people give information away.

Most conversations are simply monologues delivered in the presence of witnesses.
~Margaret Millar

On the jukebox: The Feeling ~ Strange

Distressed Damsel

Today, I have been asked out.

Often, I find myself in these conflicts of interests regarding social situations. Do I want to go because I want to go? Do I want to go because I feel like I should? Do I want to go because if I don't it's just another wasted opportunity of youth and a step towards an isolated life?

Do I need to stop thinking things over so much? Yes.

Oooohww. I don't want to meet up with someone, but I feel like I should. They're only going to be in the city for the weekend, so I really should. Even though we haven't spoken properly since last time we saw each other, we keep in touch, but email just isn't the same! There's approximately one thing that we have in common - we both studied the same subject at the same university simultaneously, although at separate levels. We've only crossed paths a handful of times since our first encounter, and to be honest, I don't really get why it has been suggested that we meet up after over a year of not seeing each other. It's going to be awkward, isn't it?

"Maybe we could go for a coffee or something?"

I know, it's just a turn of phrase, it doesn't need to be taken literally, it's just a vague way of saying "hey, let's meet up sometime" but this suggestion has been poised to me three times in the past two weeks and my immediate reaction is:

1. I don't drink coffee.
2. I'm not American.
3. You don't actually want to meet up with me, do you?

On the jukebox: David Sneddon ~ Stop Living The Lie

Frickin' Hell

Today, I have sworn.

Shit! Does it make you see someone differently if they swear all the time? Hearing mothers and fathers swearing in front of, or even to, their children makes me cringe. It's even worse when the kids respond in the same manner. I got told that I curse more since having been at uni. I suppose it's symptomatic of the people I spend my time around...

At what point does swearing become acceptable, or somehow seen as necessary? It's sometimes seen as quaint to never swear, or to use less harsh derivatives or substitutes. Some words which would have caused an "ummmm, you said a bad word..." in the playdays of yore are now commonplace in conversation. Seeing or speaking these words all around me, I appear to have become somewhat desensitised to their mention - I barely even flinch if someone mentions what my ten-year-old self was told was "the worst swear word you could use" and despite the fact that it causes some disgust to hear it uttered out loud, I wouldn't necessarily think any less of the person who used it, because it's not always a means to cause offence, it's just become a staple part of the language. Of course, the literary greats felt fit to employ such vocabulary, so hey, why shouldn't we?

On the jukebox: My Chemical Romance ~ Teenagers

Gay Radar

Today, I have been attracted to men.

Until I came to university, I never really thought much about homosexuality vs. heterosexuality. Sure, I knew there were gay people, and naturally, some people I wouldn't be surprised to discover they were attracted to the same sex, there was speculation and experimentation but never widely known or accepted. Now, the boundaries seemed to blur a little bit more, with facebook and starting afresh and growing up into yourself, it's interesting to discover who's what and where now. It is gossip-worthy, always, to find that someone from school has turned out to be that way inclined. Some it's so obvious, some not so much.

To be honest, it doesn't seem to make a lot of difference. Some students will have sex with literally anything. Games like "gay chicken" and simply getting so drunk you don't care what parts they've got down there, just so long as there's something to do? It's often seen as a bit risqué to push the acceptable lines of behaviour, but I'm of the opinion that sexuality isn't so clear cut as people like to believe, and it's come to my observation that challenging the conceptions of pre-defined ideas of acceptablity isn't really all that daring. Gay or straight, ugly or gorgeous, these concepts have little effect, because half the time they're all so sexed-up, confused and yearning for attention and affection that it's all the same. And you can always wake up in the morning and blame it on the drink.

It seems that attraction needn't be so gender-defined. If you fancy someone, the first hint of attraction is not usually because they are one gender or another, but because of the way they look, or how they act. An infectious personality can be attractive no matter what kind of person you're into, and while you may be repulsed by the idea of sleeping with someone of a certain sex, I think it is still possible to cross the line of merely 'fancying' them, in a sense, even if it's only in an admiring and enviable way. What I don't really get though, is how it's alright to cheat if it's with someone you're not officially attracted to, as long as they are the opposite sex of your partner. Well, kissing has come to be seen as not such a serious cheating offence anyway. Hey, if you're drunk and your boyfriend's not around, it's okay to want to satisfy your sexual needs to a limited extent, right? If there's obviously no feelings there, it's just a bit of fun?

The thrill involved with doing something unexpected - kisses needn't be a consequence of attraction, or expression of desire? You hug your friends, you hold hands with your friends, why not kiss your friends, too? And if you're a gayboy, of course, what a perfect excuse for you to lull girls into a false sense of security... Well, if it turns into something more, you can always plead bisexuality and ultimate confusion. And then, if it doesn't, that's because you're gay, innit. In fact, it makes perfect sense for guys to pretend to be gay - get all the girls without the guilt.

I'm not really sure how it got to this point.

On the jukebox: Nightmare Of You ~ In The Bathroom Is Where I Want You

Holding Hands

Today, I have consolidated relationships.

It's weird, how you can know someone for so long, and not know some of the most basic facts about them. The last few days have involved more new knowledge and experience than the last few weeks put together. Learning is a strange concept, information seeps in so readily, that sometimes you're not even aware of how much you now know. Until you look back and realise, if you asked me those questions last week, I wouldn't have had a clue.

Due to exams and revision and intoxicated apres-exam afternoons, not many people have really been up for heavy nights out. Instead, we've spent time in bars, restaurants and pubs, sitting and talking about anything that crops up. About gap years, about sixth form, about siblings, about partners, about parents, about history. Adding an extra dimension to complete the character profiles, discussing beyond the usual utilitarian conversation. Those evenings are far preferable to drunkenly falling about on the sticky club carpet, with friends only attending so they can spot talent on the dancefloor.

Meeting new people, it's easier to chat in an environment where you're not shouting to be heard. Would I be too much of a weirdo to say I prefer talking over kissing as a means of getting to know someone? It's nice to meet safe bets, as well. People who you know aren't trying it on or trying to network, but genuinely do want to speak to you because you're fun and interesting. Pretentious philosophical conversations under the stars and skipping down the street holding hands - in a way that is only acceptable if you're under ten years old, or alternatively, pretending to be under the influence of alcohol - this is what student life is about.

On the jukebox: James ~ Destiny Calling

Split Shift

Today, I have felt shuffled about.

Here. There. Home. Back. Leave. Return. Coming. Going.

The first few weeks of my pseduoholiday are reasonably diary-filled. Summer sees another influx of birthdays, as well as belated birthdays (due to exam constraints), along with the general "we have nothing better to do than drink" mentality that comes with end of term, meaning there's rarely an excuse not go out of an evening. The student life, eh? There's also the other summer celebrations that roll around and the odd one-off events - charity runs, family gatherings, theatre trips, weddings, music festivals, visiting long-distance friends, holidays.

All in all, there's lots to look forward to, so there should be no complaints merely because there's so many opportunties avaliable. The problem is, with so much choice, and the fact that my life is split into two places, it is difficult to decide upon the right course of action. A 21st birthday celebration up here, but a friend in need back there. One of my friend's birthday party clashes with a theatre trip - the tickets for the latter were booked months in advance. It's a cousin's confirmation; there's a wedding I've been asked to work at. The one evening uni friends may be visiting my home town in the summer, and I will be out of town. Being booked tickets for the best musical in the history of the stage, and having to give them up, because I am on holiday. Tough life, eh?!

Along with all the awkward decision-making that every double-booked day involves, there's the inevitable guilt attached. There's the booking public transport appropriately, spending a evening here, squeezing in a sleepover there. Going out 'til 3am, getting the bus five hours later, only to return the next day, and the next week repeat the routine again. Some people could take it in their stride, thrive on the buzz of being a busy social butterfly. It exhausts me, just contemplating it and trying to work around everything, whilst being there for the people who need me, not letting down the people I've already confirmed and somewhere in the midst of it all, finding where I can fit it what I want to do, and not just because I should do it.

On the jukebox: Ocean Colour Scene ~ The Day We Caught The Train