Just As

On the jukebox: Snow Patrol ~ Open Your Eyes

If I were to analogise it, my first blogsite would be a caterpillar, following the process of me crawling into a dark cocoon and hibernating there for a while, to emerge later here and become a beautiful butterfly. And I've been boxed up in this particular place for years, flittering and twittering, wittily and wonderfully. But now, it's time for the butterfly to live up to its name. Today, I am going to fly.

I want to break free.

I want to be me.

Cute Couple

Today, I have been someone's girlfriend. 

It was a hot night. Humid. Stuffy. We took a break outside, away from the crowds and into the smoke. I don't mind the smell of tobacco, in fact, if it wasn't so frowned upon, I might even say I kind of liked it. Hell, I can't pretend I didn't long for a drag on a cigarette in recent stress-filled times. But I resisted, of course, because I'm a good girl, most of the time. 

So, we went outside so that he could smoke and I could get some fresh air. We stood to one side, him in his dark jeans and indie-rock cardi and me in my princess dress. And a couple of guys came to chat, you know, as drunk people have a tendency to do. They were talking about random stuff, full of bravado and arrogance and made the natural assumption that we were a couple.  While one was telling his friend to leave us alone so we could get it on, the other was trying to convince us that we should split up, telling him that his girlfriend was dragging him down, that he was an eagle and I was his anchor, tying him to the ground when he needed to fly. It was a beautiful metaphor and I was living a beautiful lie.

Still, we played along with the pretence and it was fun, in the surreal and bizarre way that the injection of alcohol brings to many situations. He referred to me as his girlfriend. It was nice. Not because, you understand, I am actually his girlfriend. Nor because, you know, I would want to be his girlfriend. But because, on this warm Summer's evening, this pretty lady was someone's girlfriend. I don't want to pick up a random guy in the smoking area of a city bar. I don't want to be chatted up by every man who likes the look of my face and wants a body for the night. I want to be someone's girlfriend. That would be nice.

 

It's raining today. Quite a lot.

Semper Fidelis

 

On the jukebox: Keane ~ With Or Without You

Anxiety Diet

Today, I have new clothes.

As a means of losing weight, I fully recommend the Master Plan. It costs upward of £3,000 for the course, but could lose you a dress size (or two!) with little to no conscious strive to reach the end result.  Firstly, there is a preparative part, lasting around six months, involving increasing stress levels and perpetual anxiety. This ensures that your heart speed is racing way above a normal level, consequently you burn energy more readily, as you find that you are in a heightened state of fear most of the time. Nerves shed pounds, don't forget! There is likely to be unpleasant emotional side effects, but it's totally worth it to shift that weight, right?! Combine the above with two brisk half hour walks each day, as well as keeping on your feet for most time in between, and you'll end up with inches disappearing all over the body (including boobs, unfortunately, but you can't have it all...)

The last part of the diet lasts around a month and consists of a daily dollop of stress and not much else. You are so focussed on other activities that you don't have time to cook and you just kind of forget that eating is sort of necessary to survive, or simply have lost your appetite, meaning that the mere idea of food makes you feel a little bit sick. Of course, this may be confused with the churning feeling in the pit of your gut due to concern about how little time you have and how much you have to do, but either way, the eventual aim is achieved - you consume fewer calories. If you're lucky, you may also have the stress affect your bowels, a quick and effective way to remove nutrition from your body with minimal effort. This may result in you feeling constantly drained and generally not very well in yourself, but have you noticed how flat your stomach looks when it's not bloated?

And remember, slimmer is winner!

Sweet Treat

Today, I have cake.

I like coloured cake

I like currant cake

I like chemistry cake

I like castle cake

I like C-cup cake

I like cake.

On the jukebox  Eurythmics ~ Sweet Dreams

Dire Straits

Today,  I have finished my degree.

It culminated in an oral assessment at 9am this morning.That was always going to be horrendous and while it didn't go well exactly, it wasn't quite the crisis situation I imagined. I am no longer in the dire straits that had come to be my default state of the last few months. Instead, I am ready to do the walk of life, all the road running has not been in vain. Why aye, man.

Degree - done. Now for lunch.

On the jukebox: Mark Knopfler ~ Boom, Like That

Scatter Brained

Today, I have had my last ever written academic examination.

I want to be positive. I want to believe that I have done enough thus far to enable me to attain the degree class of which I am more than capable. I want to know that I made the right choice, that I am a chemistry student, that  there's not something to which I would have been better suited. 

I want this to be the case. However, the last of my confidence in my ability is rapidly trickling away as the clock ticks on. I know, it won't be the worst thing in the world if I drop an entire grade. I know, that it's okay that I'm not anywhere near the top, because I am not your typical scientist, really. I know, it's okay and life is not a competition and I excel in other areas that can't be measured by putting pen to paper. 

However, I also know that I haven't put the effort in. I know that I could do better. I am disappointed in myself for not trying harder. I am annoyed that I didn't achieve my potential. 

I really hate being the thick one. 

Bridging Oceans

Today, I have reminisced.

You know when you recognise someone from facebook or a film or whatever and then you see them in real life and it's like, well, I feel like I know you from somewhere, even though we've never met. It was a bit like that.

I waited for the train to arrive at the arranged time. Many faces but no sign of the right one. So I waited half an hour for the next train, nerves escalating, pacing the platform like a wild...nah, I was just a bit apprehensive,  but less nervous than expected, to be honest. The train eventually appeared and recognition was instant.

After greetings, we walked around for a bit. We went to the castle, 'cause you know, castles seem quite cool to foreigners. We took a picture by the statue. We talked. We ate food. He paid for the meal and opened the door for me, the sexist bastard! The discourse largely consisted of laughing at the discrepancies in our respective languages, as well as comments about the country in general.

Anyway, it was twenty to one odds of catching the train to the next destination if we didn't get to the station sharpish. We rushed back and it wasn't yet half past, so we sat for a while and discussed the encounter. We took a picture together. It was a bizarre experience, but it was well worth it. What have I learnt from the exchange? Details don't really matter; a name is not integral to a person. Conversations are what make the connection. Plus, I got an awesome birthday present out of it. And whoever said there's no such thing as a free lunch?

Chances are, we'll not cross paths again, not out of choice but due to circumstance. But you know what? I think I'll keep in touch. It's great what technology can do these days. 

So...who's next? 

On the jukebox: Estelle ft. Kayne West ~ American Boy