Christmas Time

Today, I have wrapped.

I'm not sure where we are. And that's how I like things. At least for the moment. It's good.

I know I need to work. I will do. Revision starts in 2010.

I love my friends. And I suppose, it will come a point, where we will only see each other once a year or less. But there will always be the memories and the history. It's great.

I'm scared. I'm confused. I'm stressed. But I'm also having the time of my life. My mind is filled with the here and now and the now is Christmas.

It's Christmas. It's family. It's suspended reality. It's the small things that matter the most.

I'm happy and healthy and I hope that you are too, because health and happiness are all there's good to wish for. That, and a trip to Paris. But one can dream, eh?

Merry Christmas, everyone.

On the jukebox: A Muppet Christmas Carol ~ It Feels Like Christmas

Young Hearts

Today, I have been listening to lyrics.

It's funny, you know. You can be miles and miles apart from someone yet have more contact with them than you did when they lived two doors down. You can see someone every day and hardly talk, you can see someone every three months and yet keep constant contact. Sometimes, I think that I'm better as an online appendage, a virtual girl. I prefer writing to talking, I prefer thinking to doing. 'Cause some things are too painful to say out loud.

Young love, never seems to last, hearts are young until they have a past. So much can change in a year or a minute or more, it's so odd to look back on it all. It's all too easy to romantacise, to fantasise when you're apart for lengths of time. To think that it's so much better, so much richer when you're with each other. Until you take it apart and realise there's nothing left to keep it together, just the memories of the past and the wish for something more.

But the trouble with dreams, they're not what they seem,
cause when you awake, they fall through your fingers
in flakes

On the jukebox: Mystery Jets ~ Young Love

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

Winter Wonderings

Today, I have come home for Christmas.

Motorways are boring. They allow a lot of time for absent-minded thought. The many junction stretch that takes me from one town to the other is a journey I've done countless times over the past forty months.

So I've done a lot of thinking.

The distance from South East Asia to the UK is large and a year is a long time. There are no phones in the jungle and there are no flights that are less than an extortionate amount. And I know it'll be an amazing experience, but I'll miss you, you know. Six thousand miles is very far...

The distance from this 'shire to that 'shire is less far. But it's still a long way and when there's the option of "coming 'round to mine" being a two minute walk rather than a three and a half hour train journey, it's awfully tempting to try for the former choice. It's the less definite opportunity and yet, it's the more appealing one. I want the holding hands and walking in a winter wonderland and mistletoe kisses. I want the being made a fuss of and the sharing experiences and the meaningful conversations and the private jokes and the classic enviable image of a young couple at christmastime. I want all that. Just not with the person I can have it with and especially if that person is not nearby for most of the time.

The distance from the city centre to the house in the small town on the outskirts is negligible compared with the previous two examples. It's hardly worth making a fuss about. But when you've gotten so used to living in the same abode as your best friends, and less than a couple of kilometres away from the rest of them, when you're used to the fact that you work with people of a similar age to you every day, it's awfully frustrating to come back to living in a place where every friend is a car drive apart and just a brief catch-up with some old chums requires rigorous organisation.

It feels like I'm living on borrowed moments and briefly snatched chances. There's not enough hours to get to know people before you have to pack up and leave again. I want more time and less distance. As always, life is travelling at the speed of sound and I need a moment to wait a while and draw it all in. But there's just no room for that.

It must be christmas time.

On the jukebox: The Pretenders ~ 2000 miles - sometimes, in a dream, you appear

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

Am Me

Today, I have been an onion.

They stink?
Yes. No.
Oh, they make you cry.
No.
Oh, you leave em out in the sun, they get all brown, start sproutin' little white hairs.
NO. Layers. Onions have layers. Ogres have layers. Onions have layers. You get it? We both have layers.
Oh, you both have layers. Oh. You know, not everybody like onions.

I am a complex person. I am a chameleon. I'm a million different people from one day to the next. I'm slightly schizophrenic, possibly, or "at least a bit bipolar". I like to keep people on their toes. Smile, it confuses people.

Recently, I found the following meaning of my name passage that was a homework exercise from my pre-teen years. Enlighten yourself:

"This name comes from the hebrew language. Her strengths are that she speaks openly and honestly, if someone needs her, she will be there. She sets high goals and loves a challenge.

She is not an obvious person. The more you get to know her, the more you will like her. She is sympathetic, but strong-willed and is unlikely to be taken advantage of.

If she allows you to see her as her true self, you have indeed been given a rich and valuable gift"

I am all too fond of finding meaning where none is intended, or drawing conclusions that are unwarranted given the evidence they are based on. Of course, I pulled these statements straight out of bookmarks and fridge magnets, and it's absurd to assume that every child born with that name would have the same qualities. I know I'd hate to be lumped in with some of the people who share my birth name.

I don't speak openly and honestly. I am a cagey, guarded secret-keeper; a deceitful mistress of mystery. You think that you're the only one I'm hiding gossip from? Untrue, I don't give anything away, to anyone.

A large part of that is because I don't have much of interest to give. I am me, that's all I can be. Nothing much exciting happens to me, so I hide under a cloak of illusion that I am someone who you would like to know, that once you get to know me, you will not become bored too quickly. A rich and valuable gift? Unlikely. Just you wait and see...

"Are you always this elusive?"

Yes.

On the jukebox: Alanis Morissette ~ Uninvited

Drugged Up

Today, I have been a victim of addiction.

This drug is incredibly irritating. It is sneaky, and leads you on under false pretences, or wishful hoping of what you expect it to provide for you. The prospect of getting the drug is far more rewarding that the actual reality in using it. It comes across as so warm, so inviting, so welcoming, as if it is all you need in life, as long as you have this sanctuary to fall back on, you won't fall apart.

It is deceiving. A hit can be so good, can leave you with a comforting smile on your face, a warm feeling inside, that maybe things aren't so bad, that maybe there could be something worth it there. But that feeling only lasts for a while. The smile fades and you're left wondering whether if you go back to it, would it be the same? You try, and try again, and the relative dependancy is barely related to the feeling of satisfaction that arises from it. That is, you could return to the fateful drug again and again, more and more, and it doesn't guarantee that you'll get anything more out of it, or anything out of it at all, in fact.

But there remains hope. It's happened a few times before, therein lies the possibility that it could quite easily give the same rush again. And indeed, in past experience, it has. Granted, it's not everytime. It's true, that some visits to 'that place' are better than others. But inevitably, you will have a good time again.

However, you can't be so sure when that'll be. You know, if you hold off for longer, it's more likely. But the desire to get it now leads to the desperate clutching at what is in reality, not all that great when it comes to it. Indeed, the idea and hope and prospect of what it could be is far better than what it actually transpires to be. And so you are lulled into this false sense of having a good time, when really, the time you spend apart from it becomes worse in proprotion to the amount of time you spend on a high. Therefore, it doesn't make logical sense.

Yet it is the hope and memory of previous experience that keeps you going. One day, it will be as good as it was before, one day, it may even be better. One day, you might get furthur. Or else you just end up a lonely heap of nothingness, it tearing away at your soul until there's nothing left, and yet, you still hold on, you still want to go back, you still wonder what it's like, you want to repeat the good times. Even if they are few and far between, they still happen, sometimes.

You could stop. You could move on. There are better things. It's not worth it. It's not worth the way you feel waiting for something to come out of it. It doesn't give the same kind of reward that something real, something tangible could have the potential to give.

But it's there, and it's easy to take. It's easy to pretend that it could make you feel better, it's easy to ignore the fact that you could end up feeling worse. Because you want to feel better. And you don't know of any other way that could do it. So you turn to this drug.

On the jukebox: Radiohead ~ High and Dry