The difference between talking and writing

Apparently I don't express myself enough. This was a judgement made by a fellow writer. I wonder, how exactly does she think I express myself? Writing is what I've always done, sorry I can't change specifically for her.

I remember when I was 10, and my parents had told me I had no choice but go to the Girl's school. I really didn't want to, I wanted to follow Bob to Hobart High and continue my ridiculous infatuation. But no, they told me it was for my own good and that I had no option but to comply. Of course, I knew I had another option - to not do either. I thought 'hey, I'll run away, I'll live with Louise, and I'll just learn from home.' Great plan, but of course, my parents knew exactly where I'd go, and since I only had a bike, and Louise lived about an hour's bike away, I didn't even make it to hers. I went to the park, chilled out there for hours, wandered around and eventually came home. But I had left a note to my parents, telling them that if they were so concerned for my well-being that they wouldn't ask me to go to this school, because it was killing me, or something amazingly dramatic like that. I can't really remember the outcome, but I remember my sister telling me off for being such a drama-queen, and my mum and dad never brought it up. They never even acted like they'd read the damn letter.

I think that's what my problem is: I feel the need to force people to know how I feel because I think most of the time I'm ignored. That was always the case growing up - no one ever really cared what I said, as I was just the little one with annoying pointless stories, or ridiculous lies. I could never win, and I could never communicate either. But I've carried that burden with me, and now I can't shake it off. I know that it's not healthy to let these issues build up, and when I eventually explode it's just sillyness written down in a way no one will ever truly read the way I want them to.

I've done some shocking things this year. I got bored of my boyfriend, had casual sex with a close friend and when things ended with the boyfriend, the friend said to me one night 'i don't think we should have sex anymore', and I felt so used. I know sex is a two-way thing, but he'd only ever been interested in the thrill of cheating. I felt so low, and so degraded for so long that I did suck people in to my hell. I purposefully slowed down someone getting over me, just so I could feel loved. I know I shouldn't have, but at least he's over me now. And I screamed bloody murder at that boyfriend: he begged me to stay with him but I knew that it was wrong. I knew I wouldn't be good for him. And fuck, seven months later I broke his heart again. Sorry, I truly am sorry, but I tried to hurt you then to keep you away but you never bloody listened. You always think you're right but sometimes you're wrong, and I was right, and that's why these last few months have been easy. I miss him at times, as a friend, and as a figure in life who has been there for two years, but I don't wish I hadn't broken up with him. I know it was right.

I kissed him back, and at the time I hated myself, but now, I'm glad he kissed me in the first place; I wouldn't change that for the world.

Yet when talking recently to two friends, they saw my 'worst actions of the year' to be 3 different 'letters' of varying forms: One, just after all the cheating and lie, when I accused my friend of being a bitch. I know that was harsh, and I've apologised, and I really mean it: you're not a bitch. At the time everything in my mind was backwards though - one friend had betrayed me, another was clearly choosing one friend over me, one I couldn't trust at all yet all three linked back to the one who received the letter. I hate that I dumped all that anger on her, because I still haven't sifted through the hurt that everyone else caused.

The second letter, a text, was sent one drunk night. I won't use that as an excuse though. I have an inferiority complex that flares up like crazy every time someone flaunts that they have something I don't have. And most of our friendship has been that way, so I constantly feel belittled and meaningless around her. Sorry, that text was harsh, I know, but we never got to the bottom of our problems. You ignore my texts all the time, don't even say goodbye when I leave for christmas and why? Because I pissed off your flatmate? Because I spend time with my boyfriend? I constantly find time to see you, to be with you, to pop round for silly reasons because I just want to remind you that hi, you're supposed to be my friend. I know we spent two summers together and things came to blows at times, but I value our friendship, and I feel like your throwing it away because you've got all you need in your flat.

And the last letter was facebook message, to a girl whom most people have issue with yet no one will say anything about it. So I did. I know it wasn't the best way, but at least I'm honest. And hey, maybe she can threaten to set her cousin on me, like she did to our friend before they started dating.

I have a lot of issues, and being stuck in Norfolk in the snow with my family gives me no way of venting. Sorry that this has been so long and boring. Sorry that I'm a miserable arse. And sorry if I've ever hurt you; my news year's resolution is to love, and nothing else.

Merry Christmas.

Happiness in abundance

The best thing about Christmas is the spreading of love. I tried to explain this to my flatmate, who swore blind his mother didn't want to receive presents from him - I said no matter what she says, showing your affection, your appreciation and your gratitude to someone is only really expected twice a year (Christmas and birthdays). So I say, spread more love. Tell it to the people around you as often as possible, do little acts of kindness, boost your karma... SPREAD LOVE x

Just a quickie...

You ever been in a car with someone and worried about their driving skills? I always panic when my brother drives me places. He drives too fast, he likes taking corners fast and he won't let other motorists slow him down. When I was 14 he crashed the car when driving me home. It wasn't scarring or anything, but it's made me nervous to be in vehicles with him. But I realised today - he's a trained helicopter pilot. He can fly planes and massively destructive machines at ridiculous speeds through a war zone. When the RAF train their boys up, they get rid of the part of the brain that says 'Woah, watch it, last time I drove this fast I crashed'. The RAF deletes caution from the mind to enable to brain to push itself further.

I don't think I would do well in the forces. Writing it is then...

What is one minute of your time really worth?

I flicked on my TV earlier, and E4 popped up, showing the end of the film Just My Luck. I will admit to owning this film. I bought it purely for McFly, as Lindsay Lohan fell off my radar when she started gallivanting with the wrong Ronson. And yes, it's terribly. No, McFly didn't make it in America. And that film is the reason Chris Pine ended up as Captain Kirk, so the film has a lot to be blamed for / wrong with it. And as I watched the credits roll past, mindlessly scanning what else was on, I saw a whole real (about 7 or 8 names) of people who's role ended in 'for Ms Lohan'. Assistant for, Second Assistant for, Wardrobe designer for, Hair stylist for, etc etc. Some were so mundane I've already forgotten them. I have to ask - why does Ms Lohan need so many people buzzing around her all the time, it's not like she's rushed off her feet being an excellent actress. She could save thousands, maybe even millions of pounds if she just fired them all and did it herself. Or have one, call them 'personal assistant' and make them deal with all the other crap. If you can't dress yourself, how the hell do you have a film career? No wonder paparazzi shoots up-skirt shots all the time, she clearly has trouble with her wardrobe.

But this isn't about Lindsay Lohan. God, I could go on forever, but I won't. Waste of cyberspace (and I'm sure there's already plenty of ranting blogs about her anyway). But all this reminds me of something my favourite teacher when I was about 12 used to say - I'd ask her hurriedly 'do you have a minute?' because I wanted to go through my latest piece of creative writing, or whatever, and she'd always reply 'I've got as many minutes as you want'. This isn't the case with teachers anymore. University lectures won't give you unlimited supplies of their brilliance and their time. Sometimes they don't even bother reading your whole essay when marking (or second marking, to be exact). Or, worse still, if you finally grab that teacher and spend a whole minute chatting to them, you can go outside and your friends won't be waiting for you, because their time is equally far too precious. When did time become so sparse? Did the clocks get quicker suddenly? Did the gloom of immortality cloud everyone's mind? Or do we just live in a culture of speed - everything has to be quick, prompt, faster-than-the-speed-of-light or better. Internet is a classic example. I remember when we first got the internet - we had a gateway computer, a good old modem with the dial-up tone and it always took about 5 minutes to connect, so you'd go make some toast and/or tea whilst it connected, but as soon as it was up you'd do what you had to do and log off as quickly as possible because it was like the telephone, and you paid for the minutes you used, and its darn expensive. I was 10, so I don't know how expensive, all I know is that the idea of making Mum mad at me because I'd spent too long downloading Bejewelled scared the big jesus out of me.

Now, 10 years later, our internet is brilliant. But my father, Mr. I Don't Need Technology (and Mr. We'll never have a television in the kitchen), enjoys watching the iPlayer every night during dinner. The computer in the kitchen has an 15inch monitor. In the next room we have a projector, and lazyboy recliners and a fuck-off nice fire. But no, dinner is time we won't get back, may as well watch the tv at the same time in the kitchen. And every now and then, because its 7.30, Eastenders has started and a quarter of the country are doing the exact same thing as us, iPlayer lags badly and jumps, or pauses, or stops altogether. Everytime this happens without fail my father will shout at the computer. He'll scream rude (and unjustified) words at the monitor, telling it to 'come the fuck on', and then the classic 'what a piece of fucking shit'. Teaching him that yelling at it won't help didn't work. He just yelled at me. Teaching him to yell at the router instead of the monitor did help, because it means he leaves the room. But I find it absurd that a man who once though travelling from Norwich to London was a very dangerous and long journey and certainly couldn't be done alone in one day (oh the joys of the '70s), is now infuriated by how slow our amazing technology is. Why must we be so demanding for things we don't need any quicker? I stood in line at asda today for 20 minutes holding one item. Every single person that walked past the queue would comment on its length. Every person then had to go join a longer queue, because they'd walked past the first one thinking we were all patient little sheep who just enjoy queuing up for some reason.

Next time your in Asda, buy more the one item, stand in the longest queue and yell profusely about how awesomely slow it is. Get your phone out and chat with that person you've been meaning to call. Make a list of things you need to do when you get home. Learn the names of all the states if the queue is really long. Just learn to love time. Time will always be the same, we've got to accept that: it's what you do with it, how you use it that counts.