I used to want to be a rockstar, then I realised I couldn't sing.
I used to want to be an astronaut, but I failed physics a-level, monumentally, and thought 'fuck that dream'.
I used to want to be a teacher, but then I finished school, and I stopped having heroes and enemies trying to affect my life daily, and the dream's passion got detached.
I used to want to be a perfect girl, with everything in the world, picture-perfect boyfriend, good body, good talent, and a weird athletic hobby like playing polo or hockey. Some parts of me still long for certain things in the list, some parts of me have found happiness in what I've got, and a large part of me realised that those girls take it all for granted, are generally complete bitches or just have hollow skulls. So that dream set sail.
I once wanted to be a musician. But I never could afford the lessons.
I have always wanted to be someone, and I don't know when it is that I will feel that dream accomplished. At least I know that I'm close.
I used to want to be a boy. I don't know why. Now, after puberty, an all girl's school, and a very male friendship group at uni, I'm glad I'm a girl.
I never thought to myself "I want to write". I just did. I've always been able to pick up a pen, pencil or crayon and go a little bit mental. I've always loved books, mainly because they were a great escape when I was a kid. Now, I love books more because of the power that they can have. I want to write something one day that will change someone's life. I don't need a paycheck, a name on screen or a big hardback book with my name on it to feel like I've accomplished my chosen life's dream. One day, if a kid tells me that I helped them with something, or that they have been inspired to write, I'll have done it, and I'll find the next dream to follow.
Until then, my goals are pretty simple. Be happy, live life to the full, and follow the heart. My life is my own, and I intend to live it well.
Sunday 23 October 2011
Saturday 22 October 2011
Everything about you is how I want to be...
This blog is dedicated to three men and the impact that they have had on my life. "Not again" I hear you sigh - oh no. This one is different.
The men in question are Chris Wolstenholme, Dominic Howard and Matthew Bellamy, a.k.a Muse, one of the best British rock bands of the 21st century, have won so so many awards, mainly for anthems, being amazing live and for making such cracking albums that they receive critical acclaim, international status and most of all - they headline. Performing is what they're best at, and it's one of the top things on my bucket list to see them live. I almost got a chance to last year, but I had to sell my tickets to T in the Park... Anger ensued. So, Muse. Where to start...
Showbiz; debut album, released in 1999, got Muse a lot of recognition in the rock world, but not much in the public domain. My top song from this album is Muscle Museum, with a killer bass line and a tremendous vocal from Bellamy, you can see the development from this tune into the second album, recently played in its entirety at Leeds & Reading 2011: Origin of Symmetry, originally released in 2001.
There are many great tunes from this album. My personal favourite, and one of the first songs I ever heard by them, immediately fell in love with then downloaded three whole albums based on that one track, is Plug In Baby. I'd never heard anything like it. The lyrics don't make much sense, and I didn't know what I was really falling in love with when it happened, but I recognise now, I just loved the music. Guitars, drums, bass, and a vocal that aren't put together by Simon Fuller. I was 13 or 14 when I heard this song, and up until then, I had heard pop. My sisters' music taste had rubbed off on me, and things like Led Zeppelin and Guns 'n' Roses never caught my attention because they were old and boring, and I didn't want to be like my Dad. Muse was my first step to becoming a unique entity, to having my own taste and voice and most of all, a newly found love of rock. This is the main reason why I was friends with the guys we knew when we were 15 - because they too loved the rock, they loved to rock, and they did a pretty sweet cover of Time Is Running Out.
Anyway, back to Muse. Origins of Symmetry's most famous, loved and absolute 'toon' is New Born, closely followed by Hyper Music, Bliss, Dark Shines and Feeling Good, one of their most famous covers, but not the best. They covered Radiohead's Creep, The Animal's House of the Rising Sun, U2's Where The Streets Have No Name (performed with The Edge at Glastonbury), and many more. Matt's voice is amazing, as it's both very unique, and totally adaptable to different genres and styles of music. And so we come to the album which Muse are probably best known for, in my generation at least, because these tunes got a LOT of radio play, and they did Glastonbury 2004 with this album tour and stole the show. Literally.
Absolution, 2004:
Words can't describe how this album makes me feel. Memories I will forever cherish are reignited purely at the sound of the bass line. Emotions which I couldn't handle, anger I couldn't displace and the weight of puberty, growing up and moving on were all solved somehow by this album. I remember listening to it really loud, one of the first times I listened to music loud in a room, not just in my headphones, and Dad stormed in, telling me to turn it the fuck down. I was so happy that I got him angry that day. Muse helped me realise how to get attention, even if its the wrong kind; that alone sculpted the next three years of my existence.
I won't do every song, as tempted as I am. Just the most rockingly awesome ones! Time Is Running Out - This song will never get old. Ever. This song makes me feel 15 again, fancying a guy called Matt and just WISHING that his surname was Bellamy... Stockholm Syndrome: Just for the lyric "this is the last time I'll forget you". Going through heartbreak, this song can cure you in ways you wouldn't imagine it could. Hysteria: I used to listen to this album on my old iPod on school bus. I always wanted to sing this out loud, but obviously never could. Very addictive. Very good at waking you up at 7am. Butterflies and Hurricanes: this gets used a lot in adverts, promotional things etc. "You've got to be the best, you've got to change the world". This is probably Matt Bellamy's mantra. As a 15 year old 'emo' struggling at school and not knowing what the hell the point in all of it was, this song helped me get a grip on life, and more so, on myself: figure out exactly who I am and what I want. I love this band for that - they gave me the vision to just follow my heart, and fight through the obstacles, because it's worth it in the end. That's what my sisters don't understand about me - they don't see what has been driving me all these years. They think I'm driven by boys, or looks, or this longing to be someone I'm not. I'm driven by this notion that Muse put in my head: you can be everything you want to be, you just have to fight pretty hard for it. Nothing worth having comes easily.
And so, to Black Holes and Revelations, 2006. I remember going out to Virgin Mega-stores to buy this - back in the day! I also bought Linkin Park's Minutes to Midnight at the same time. A friend bumped into me in Virgin, saw the two CDs in my hands, and said "fuck yes, and fuck no" (he had heard LP's newest was shit so didn't like it). I remember thinking "well, fuck you!" when he said this. I didn't need someone to judge my music taste. I was so excited about both these albums - two bands I'd been waiting SO long for the newest material from. And I was not disappointed.
Supermassive Black Hole: Muse's first single from the album, and one of their opening songs to set lists, this one really gets the crowds going. Not much to it, just a good party anthem really! Assassin: just good music, exactly what you want from a rock album. Knights of Cydonia: since this album, they've closed almost every gig with this. Such a long song when they do it full justice, so intricately put together, classic lyrics and a belter of a chorus which makes it a Muse classic through and through. "Don't waste your time, your time will waste you". Just soak up the gods that came from Teignmouth, Devon, and performed there again in a hail to their home town in this very intimate gig that the whole town could hear. Jealous. Very jealous.
It should be noted that they released an album Hullabaloo which was a live recording of their greatest tunes, with a few news ones or altered ones, and it was really cool.
The Resistance, 2009: I don't want to mention Twilight, but I have to. Stephenie Meyer asked Muse specifically to write a song for Eclipse. They did. I won't post it, but it's a good song. She is a massive fan, and was inspired by I think Supermassive Black Hole when she first wrote twilight (that and she had a dream about a vampire). So, Muse got a whole lot bigger when they were involved heavily in a Hollywood soundtrack. But more so, Muse released this album on iTunes as a fully downloaded thing, with music videos, 'making of' videos etc, and you get to see what really happens behind the scenes. Its an insight into the mind of Matt Bellamy, as Dom and Chris just laze around a lot, and after this album came out I read in NME that Chris' alcohol addiction was so bad that he barely turned up to record this album - a lot of it was done by either Matt or some poor random bassist they found. This album shows the true aspirations that the band have: they make many connections with Queen, and some older rock, rather than the 90s rock like Radiohead that they were always so closely associated with. They wanted to break the mold, push the boundaries, and see what else they can do. Technology is moving so fast that they could do a lot more with this album than with Showbiz, and I read somewhere that Matt sometimes wishes he could re-record Showbiz and do different things with it, but he knows that it's an entity of its time and he can't and shouldn't mess with what they did ten years ago. I love the notion that he can pick holes in his own work. People spending so long telling him he's a rock god, a musical legend and an absolute genius, but he still has a voice saying "but I could still do better". That gives me confidence that albums will get better and better as they go. It's when Matt says "I've done it, I've created a masterpiece, and its totally perfect" that Muse will fall. Fingers crossed that shall never happen.
So, Uprising: the opener. The 'rock anthem' of 2009, or something. They opened their show at the Wembley Stadium with this and there is no good footage but it looks fucking incredible. I wish I had been there. So very jealous. Resistance: My favourite of this album, and this clip is from their Resistance Tour, which has one of the coolest set pieces ever. I remember hearing an interview with them prior to the tour starting, and Matt was describing the three pillars, his own idea, like sky scrapers, and Dom piped in just to say "oh, and I'm spinning round. Ever tried to play the drums spinning round? This may be the last interview we ever do..." I laughed, and then I looked up tickets, and they were sold out, WORLD WIDE. I couldn't even pop to Europe to see them. Damn liking such a popular band. I now see why Martin loves the underdog so much... United States of Eurasia: The experiment. An orchestra, with this Arabian-esque music, and a Freddy Mercury-esque ending. They were worried fans wouldn't like it. I love it. I think they could do a whole album with a full orchestra and very little vocals and it would be stunning. But, they're rockers, they probably don't want to. Oh well.
I think next year, along with the birth of Baby Hudson-Bellamy (it's rumoured they'll call it Kurt if a boy), Muse begin work on album number six. I have many expectations, most of them great, but am bearing in mind my fathers advise, "always expect the unexpected". I hope that they continue to make music for years. I hope that they are going to do a tour soon which I can go to, and fulfill one of my dreams. I hope, most of all, that the three men who have inspired me to be unique and to follow my dreams can do so themselves. They are amazing people, they make me proud to be British, and they deserve every recognition they have received.
Thank you Muse.
The men in question are Chris Wolstenholme, Dominic Howard and Matthew Bellamy, a.k.a Muse, one of the best British rock bands of the 21st century, have won so so many awards, mainly for anthems, being amazing live and for making such cracking albums that they receive critical acclaim, international status and most of all - they headline. Performing is what they're best at, and it's one of the top things on my bucket list to see them live. I almost got a chance to last year, but I had to sell my tickets to T in the Park... Anger ensued. So, Muse. Where to start...
Showbiz; debut album, released in 1999, got Muse a lot of recognition in the rock world, but not much in the public domain. My top song from this album is Muscle Museum, with a killer bass line and a tremendous vocal from Bellamy, you can see the development from this tune into the second album, recently played in its entirety at Leeds & Reading 2011: Origin of Symmetry, originally released in 2001.
There are many great tunes from this album. My personal favourite, and one of the first songs I ever heard by them, immediately fell in love with then downloaded three whole albums based on that one track, is Plug In Baby. I'd never heard anything like it. The lyrics don't make much sense, and I didn't know what I was really falling in love with when it happened, but I recognise now, I just loved the music. Guitars, drums, bass, and a vocal that aren't put together by Simon Fuller. I was 13 or 14 when I heard this song, and up until then, I had heard pop. My sisters' music taste had rubbed off on me, and things like Led Zeppelin and Guns 'n' Roses never caught my attention because they were old and boring, and I didn't want to be like my Dad. Muse was my first step to becoming a unique entity, to having my own taste and voice and most of all, a newly found love of rock. This is the main reason why I was friends with the guys we knew when we were 15 - because they too loved the rock, they loved to rock, and they did a pretty sweet cover of Time Is Running Out.
Anyway, back to Muse. Origins of Symmetry's most famous, loved and absolute 'toon' is New Born, closely followed by Hyper Music, Bliss, Dark Shines and Feeling Good, one of their most famous covers, but not the best. They covered Radiohead's Creep, The Animal's House of the Rising Sun, U2's Where The Streets Have No Name (performed with The Edge at Glastonbury), and many more. Matt's voice is amazing, as it's both very unique, and totally adaptable to different genres and styles of music. And so we come to the album which Muse are probably best known for, in my generation at least, because these tunes got a LOT of radio play, and they did Glastonbury 2004 with this album tour and stole the show. Literally.
Absolution, 2004:
Words can't describe how this album makes me feel. Memories I will forever cherish are reignited purely at the sound of the bass line. Emotions which I couldn't handle, anger I couldn't displace and the weight of puberty, growing up and moving on were all solved somehow by this album. I remember listening to it really loud, one of the first times I listened to music loud in a room, not just in my headphones, and Dad stormed in, telling me to turn it the fuck down. I was so happy that I got him angry that day. Muse helped me realise how to get attention, even if its the wrong kind; that alone sculpted the next three years of my existence.
I won't do every song, as tempted as I am. Just the most rockingly awesome ones! Time Is Running Out - This song will never get old. Ever. This song makes me feel 15 again, fancying a guy called Matt and just WISHING that his surname was Bellamy... Stockholm Syndrome: Just for the lyric "this is the last time I'll forget you". Going through heartbreak, this song can cure you in ways you wouldn't imagine it could. Hysteria: I used to listen to this album on my old iPod on school bus. I always wanted to sing this out loud, but obviously never could. Very addictive. Very good at waking you up at 7am. Butterflies and Hurricanes: this gets used a lot in adverts, promotional things etc. "You've got to be the best, you've got to change the world". This is probably Matt Bellamy's mantra. As a 15 year old 'emo' struggling at school and not knowing what the hell the point in all of it was, this song helped me get a grip on life, and more so, on myself: figure out exactly who I am and what I want. I love this band for that - they gave me the vision to just follow my heart, and fight through the obstacles, because it's worth it in the end. That's what my sisters don't understand about me - they don't see what has been driving me all these years. They think I'm driven by boys, or looks, or this longing to be someone I'm not. I'm driven by this notion that Muse put in my head: you can be everything you want to be, you just have to fight pretty hard for it. Nothing worth having comes easily.
And so, to Black Holes and Revelations, 2006. I remember going out to Virgin Mega-stores to buy this - back in the day! I also bought Linkin Park's Minutes to Midnight at the same time. A friend bumped into me in Virgin, saw the two CDs in my hands, and said "fuck yes, and fuck no" (he had heard LP's newest was shit so didn't like it). I remember thinking "well, fuck you!" when he said this. I didn't need someone to judge my music taste. I was so excited about both these albums - two bands I'd been waiting SO long for the newest material from. And I was not disappointed.
Supermassive Black Hole: Muse's first single from the album, and one of their opening songs to set lists, this one really gets the crowds going. Not much to it, just a good party anthem really! Assassin: just good music, exactly what you want from a rock album. Knights of Cydonia: since this album, they've closed almost every gig with this. Such a long song when they do it full justice, so intricately put together, classic lyrics and a belter of a chorus which makes it a Muse classic through and through. "Don't waste your time, your time will waste you". Just soak up the gods that came from Teignmouth, Devon, and performed there again in a hail to their home town in this very intimate gig that the whole town could hear. Jealous. Very jealous.
It should be noted that they released an album Hullabaloo which was a live recording of their greatest tunes, with a few news ones or altered ones, and it was really cool.
The Resistance, 2009: I don't want to mention Twilight, but I have to. Stephenie Meyer asked Muse specifically to write a song for Eclipse. They did. I won't post it, but it's a good song. She is a massive fan, and was inspired by I think Supermassive Black Hole when she first wrote twilight (that and she had a dream about a vampire). So, Muse got a whole lot bigger when they were involved heavily in a Hollywood soundtrack. But more so, Muse released this album on iTunes as a fully downloaded thing, with music videos, 'making of' videos etc, and you get to see what really happens behind the scenes. Its an insight into the mind of Matt Bellamy, as Dom and Chris just laze around a lot, and after this album came out I read in NME that Chris' alcohol addiction was so bad that he barely turned up to record this album - a lot of it was done by either Matt or some poor random bassist they found. This album shows the true aspirations that the band have: they make many connections with Queen, and some older rock, rather than the 90s rock like Radiohead that they were always so closely associated with. They wanted to break the mold, push the boundaries, and see what else they can do. Technology is moving so fast that they could do a lot more with this album than with Showbiz, and I read somewhere that Matt sometimes wishes he could re-record Showbiz and do different things with it, but he knows that it's an entity of its time and he can't and shouldn't mess with what they did ten years ago. I love the notion that he can pick holes in his own work. People spending so long telling him he's a rock god, a musical legend and an absolute genius, but he still has a voice saying "but I could still do better". That gives me confidence that albums will get better and better as they go. It's when Matt says "I've done it, I've created a masterpiece, and its totally perfect" that Muse will fall. Fingers crossed that shall never happen.
So, Uprising: the opener. The 'rock anthem' of 2009, or something. They opened their show at the Wembley Stadium with this and there is no good footage but it looks fucking incredible. I wish I had been there. So very jealous. Resistance: My favourite of this album, and this clip is from their Resistance Tour, which has one of the coolest set pieces ever. I remember hearing an interview with them prior to the tour starting, and Matt was describing the three pillars, his own idea, like sky scrapers, and Dom piped in just to say "oh, and I'm spinning round. Ever tried to play the drums spinning round? This may be the last interview we ever do..." I laughed, and then I looked up tickets, and they were sold out, WORLD WIDE. I couldn't even pop to Europe to see them. Damn liking such a popular band. I now see why Martin loves the underdog so much... United States of Eurasia: The experiment. An orchestra, with this Arabian-esque music, and a Freddy Mercury-esque ending. They were worried fans wouldn't like it. I love it. I think they could do a whole album with a full orchestra and very little vocals and it would be stunning. But, they're rockers, they probably don't want to. Oh well.
I think next year, along with the birth of Baby Hudson-Bellamy (it's rumoured they'll call it Kurt if a boy), Muse begin work on album number six. I have many expectations, most of them great, but am bearing in mind my fathers advise, "always expect the unexpected". I hope that they continue to make music for years. I hope that they are going to do a tour soon which I can go to, and fulfill one of my dreams. I hope, most of all, that the three men who have inspired me to be unique and to follow my dreams can do so themselves. They are amazing people, they make me proud to be British, and they deserve every recognition they have received.
Thank you Muse.
Friday 21 October 2011
The hills are made with the euphonious symphonies of descant...
There are some pieces of music in movies that make your spine tingle. When you've been waiting for a year and a half for the next Harry Potter film, sitting in the cinema and hearing the theme music start gives me shivers. I love it, and it saddens me that it will never happen again. Equally, films like Lord of the Rings (all) and Gladiator have STONKINGLY good soundtracks (yes, that's a word) and it makes what would have been an alright film be great. But a whole score, a whole soundtrack, sometimes isn't necessary. I love the soundtrack to Donnie Darko, as its the angst of the 80s in one CD, but I often wonder if it's overdone. Like, Donnie didn't have, necessarily, to be set in 1988, so why was it? Probably just because Richard 'Dickface' Kelly wanted to make it symbolic of his own youth, and just LOVES Joy Division. Or something. So I really appreciate a good piece of music that fits in perfectly with a film. The Graduate, however, overdid it. Great film, great music - just, why so many times? Again, unnecessary.
I just watched Halloween H20 for the first time. I've seen Halloween, saw it once as a kid and once in second year. Loved it, classic piece of movie history which will never cease to be watched. Watching H20, all remarks about the mother-daughter performance and the introduction to one of my first hollywood loves aside, it managed to re-kindle that amazing sense of empathy. Knowing what Laurie's character has been through, seeing all the shit that happened in her life still haunting her, and then watching her save her son and trap herself in a massive school, armed with an axe, screaming "michael" as that John Carpenter eerie music kicks in really makes your heart beat faster. No matter what people say about how terrible or brilliant or whatever it is to re-hash the classics and to try to get the same screams over and over, when you get that feeling in your chest, and you really are gunning for her, hoping that she gets to go mad-ass on him - that feeling tells you that the film has worked. Its a brilliant feeling; unfortunately, quite rare.
Another of those moments is in Saw. The Saw music never fails to get me fucking nervous. You know that an hour in, when the plot has calmed down, starting to make sense and the poor guy stuck in the middle is finally figuring it all out - the music kicks in. It gets faster and faster because the quicker he realises what Jigsaw has done, and why, and how easy it was to play with life and death, that poor guy also finds his last obstacle is right around the corner and its the worst won, because Jigsaw pre-emptied this moment of clarity and now wants him to make a moral decision. Do you save the person you love, who leads an immoral life, or help those in need who have done nothing wrong? That fear, knowing that if you were in the same shoes you'd literally pee your pants then run screaming, is what makes me keep watching Saw films, despite a few being questionable.
Other big music moments in films... I hate to say it, but Titanic. I got the shivers first time I watched it, must admit. Great song... Uplifting ones are great, like at the end of the live-action Peter Pan film, when the happy music comes on, you feel like you're a kid again, hoping one day Peter will come for you. James Newton Howard did the score for that... great guy. Psycho, can't ignore that... Jaws, as well...
Looking up the oscar-winning scores is interesting. Lots of randoms - very famous films, or hardly heard of - The Social Network, most recently, didn't even strike me as having much of a score, but it won, so obviously it did! The one thing I'll always think of, however, is Disney. Some of the best scores, the music basically tells the story, which is really amazing when you haven't seen a film in years and listen to the score and it all comes flooding back. The Hunchback of Notre Dame, best by far, with The Lion King, Aladdin, Lion King 2: Simba's Pride, Hercules, High School Musical has to be mentioned, of course, and Aristocats, The Little Mermaid, Jungle Book, and many more that I cannot think of right now...
Music, whether its a piece of instrumental music, a pop song or just two notes getting faster and faster, is vital in film and television. Red State, something I wouldn't consider a horror film, had no score. Maybe this is why it didn't feel like a horror film. An animated comedy is lacking slightly if the characters don't spontaneously break out into song and dance. A whole separate blog is needed for me to express my adoration for musicals. For now, I think you should really feel the music used in film and TV. The Buffy soundtrack is one to make note of, as well as the way that the few times that Friends ever used contemporary music, something felt very odd.
Listen. Use all your sense when taking in the visual medium that surrounds us. Put a horror film on and close your eyes: you're still just as scared. Think of your favourite song from a film and dance around your room like a loon. Uplifting, yes. Weird, oh yes. But oh so worth it!
I just watched Halloween H20 for the first time. I've seen Halloween, saw it once as a kid and once in second year. Loved it, classic piece of movie history which will never cease to be watched. Watching H20, all remarks about the mother-daughter performance and the introduction to one of my first hollywood loves aside, it managed to re-kindle that amazing sense of empathy. Knowing what Laurie's character has been through, seeing all the shit that happened in her life still haunting her, and then watching her save her son and trap herself in a massive school, armed with an axe, screaming "michael" as that John Carpenter eerie music kicks in really makes your heart beat faster. No matter what people say about how terrible or brilliant or whatever it is to re-hash the classics and to try to get the same screams over and over, when you get that feeling in your chest, and you really are gunning for her, hoping that she gets to go mad-ass on him - that feeling tells you that the film has worked. Its a brilliant feeling; unfortunately, quite rare.
Another of those moments is in Saw. The Saw music never fails to get me fucking nervous. You know that an hour in, when the plot has calmed down, starting to make sense and the poor guy stuck in the middle is finally figuring it all out - the music kicks in. It gets faster and faster because the quicker he realises what Jigsaw has done, and why, and how easy it was to play with life and death, that poor guy also finds his last obstacle is right around the corner and its the worst won, because Jigsaw pre-emptied this moment of clarity and now wants him to make a moral decision. Do you save the person you love, who leads an immoral life, or help those in need who have done nothing wrong? That fear, knowing that if you were in the same shoes you'd literally pee your pants then run screaming, is what makes me keep watching Saw films, despite a few being questionable.
Other big music moments in films... I hate to say it, but Titanic. I got the shivers first time I watched it, must admit. Great song... Uplifting ones are great, like at the end of the live-action Peter Pan film, when the happy music comes on, you feel like you're a kid again, hoping one day Peter will come for you. James Newton Howard did the score for that... great guy. Psycho, can't ignore that... Jaws, as well...
Looking up the oscar-winning scores is interesting. Lots of randoms - very famous films, or hardly heard of - The Social Network, most recently, didn't even strike me as having much of a score, but it won, so obviously it did! The one thing I'll always think of, however, is Disney. Some of the best scores, the music basically tells the story, which is really amazing when you haven't seen a film in years and listen to the score and it all comes flooding back. The Hunchback of Notre Dame, best by far, with The Lion King, Aladdin, Lion King 2: Simba's Pride, Hercules, High School Musical has to be mentioned, of course, and Aristocats, The Little Mermaid, Jungle Book, and many more that I cannot think of right now...
Music, whether its a piece of instrumental music, a pop song or just two notes getting faster and faster, is vital in film and television. Red State, something I wouldn't consider a horror film, had no score. Maybe this is why it didn't feel like a horror film. An animated comedy is lacking slightly if the characters don't spontaneously break out into song and dance. A whole separate blog is needed for me to express my adoration for musicals. For now, I think you should really feel the music used in film and TV. The Buffy soundtrack is one to make note of, as well as the way that the few times that Friends ever used contemporary music, something felt very odd.
Listen. Use all your sense when taking in the visual medium that surrounds us. Put a horror film on and close your eyes: you're still just as scared. Think of your favourite song from a film and dance around your room like a loon. Uplifting, yes. Weird, oh yes. But oh so worth it!
Monday 17 October 2011
Follow the leader...
Wise words are good to here, but hard to live by. These are my 'mantras' at the moment, and I'm hoping sticking by these will help other things fall into place...
Grab life by the balls / the bull by the horns. Less dangerous than 'carpe diem' because you can keep your future in mind, just literally grab what moments you do come by, and love them to the fullest.
Trust in your heart, your head, and those that you love.
Let honesty and openness to situations guide you.
Don't let the bastards get you down. (yes, it's a quote from the O.C) - also relating to negativity and the oppressive power of anger
And lastly, keep smiling, because no one else knows what you're smiling about.
Grab life by the balls / the bull by the horns. Less dangerous than 'carpe diem' because you can keep your future in mind, just literally grab what moments you do come by, and love them to the fullest.
Trust in your heart, your head, and those that you love.
Let honesty and openness to situations guide you.
Don't let the bastards get you down. (yes, it's a quote from the O.C) - also relating to negativity and the oppressive power of anger
And lastly, keep smiling, because no one else knows what you're smiling about.
Wednesday 12 October 2011
What's in a name?
I always struggle to name characters. I find that the perfect name will give me a much greater feel for a character than reams of backstory and depth. Trouble is, I don't like many girl's names. Having a large cast in Impressions means I've already used most of the female names I like, or at least, can stand to write constantly. I may have to literally start making up names, because every name people suggest to me, I know a girl with that name, and nine times out of ten, she ruins the name for me. Like Mia. Oh how I hate that name...
The funny thing is, there are so many boys names that I love, I know I'm going to struggle to name the son I will one day have. This is one of the reasons I want to have lots of children - so that my favourite names can all be used.
I've recently been thinking about surnames too. Earl is a weird one, and I don't know if I'd ever use it. Common as fuck in Suffolk, so very appropriate to use in Impressions, but I'd feel off doing it. I can't pinpoint what makes a surname usable or not... I remember writing Dali for the first time. I didn't know how I should spell it at first - Dahli, or Dalie, or whatever - I eventually decided that sticking to salvador's spelling was best - and I almost immediately thought of Spence. Dali Spence, yeah, that sounds real. Then the Spence family fell into place, Rene fitting the surname too, and I asked my friend Spence if I could use his surname. He said sure - it's not like he's the only one with that surname - so I borrowed my friend's name. Ever since, I always try out friend's name for characters, but sometimes they seem really wrong. Like Appleby. I don't think I'd ever want to use it as a surname, because it feels too personal and like I would then base that person upon Appleby. Same goes for Macina and Ingham. Yet, there are male names I really like, I just happen to know people called it: Edmund has always been one (thanks Narnia), also Sebastian, James, Jack, Tobias, Zak, Max and Will. I don't know how long I can re-hash these names for... Maybe I need to start learning foreign names.
I also have realised that as much as I don't like most girl's names, especially my own, I really like flowers as names. Lily and Rose are already characters: I'm now thinking about Violet, Tulip, Daisy, Buttercup (not the powerpuff girl) and Lavender. Any other suggestions?
The funny thing is, there are so many boys names that I love, I know I'm going to struggle to name the son I will one day have. This is one of the reasons I want to have lots of children - so that my favourite names can all be used.
I've recently been thinking about surnames too. Earl is a weird one, and I don't know if I'd ever use it. Common as fuck in Suffolk, so very appropriate to use in Impressions, but I'd feel off doing it. I can't pinpoint what makes a surname usable or not... I remember writing Dali for the first time. I didn't know how I should spell it at first - Dahli, or Dalie, or whatever - I eventually decided that sticking to salvador's spelling was best - and I almost immediately thought of Spence. Dali Spence, yeah, that sounds real. Then the Spence family fell into place, Rene fitting the surname too, and I asked my friend Spence if I could use his surname. He said sure - it's not like he's the only one with that surname - so I borrowed my friend's name. Ever since, I always try out friend's name for characters, but sometimes they seem really wrong. Like Appleby. I don't think I'd ever want to use it as a surname, because it feels too personal and like I would then base that person upon Appleby. Same goes for Macina and Ingham. Yet, there are male names I really like, I just happen to know people called it: Edmund has always been one (thanks Narnia), also Sebastian, James, Jack, Tobias, Zak, Max and Will. I don't know how long I can re-hash these names for... Maybe I need to start learning foreign names.
I also have realised that as much as I don't like most girl's names, especially my own, I really like flowers as names. Lily and Rose are already characters: I'm now thinking about Violet, Tulip, Daisy, Buttercup (not the powerpuff girl) and Lavender. Any other suggestions?
Sunday 9 October 2011
Suffolk
I come from Broome, which is in Norfolk, as the Norfolk/Suffolk border is the River Waveney, which runs about 2km south of my house. Bungay, however, is in Suffolk, and since Broome is tiny, the address claims I come from Suffolk. I always talk about Norfolk - I come from, lived in, grew up in and went to school in Norfolk. But technically, I didn't.
Ellingham, the village where my primary school is, has the Waveney go through it, so I literally grew up on the border. I went to High School in Norwich, but my days weren't spent there: I learned to drink and laugh in Bungay and Beccles, both Suffolk towns sat on the Waveney. Beccles even has a restaurant called The Waveney. Shocker.
So this blog is my ode to Suffolk. The finer places to visit are in Suffolk, as the Norfolk coast is so freaking far away and hard to get to, we prefer the Suffolk Coast. It's beautiful. All the way from Southwold down to Ipswich, you see country side, village and town settings which are so unique and pretty and somehow function perfectly without needing massive Tesco's or Greggs every five feet. I love it, the rustic country feel that surprisingly, I've never felt in any populated Norfolk area. Suffolk has some massive charm and appeal: because it's spitting distance from London, you get a lot of older, rich commuting people having lovely country homes in Suffolk, and in the heart of Suffolk you do have a lot of big towns (Ipswich not being a city, so there are no cities in Suffolk), with markets and New Looks and everything Londoners hope for from the countryside.
Of course, Suffolk boarders Essex, which is a massive downside, and makes the south border very unappealing. The funny thing is, Suffolk is like a mysterious county which not many people know much about. The Suffolk coast is beautiful yes, but the North Norfolk Coast is much more famous, and I don't know why. It's very sandy, yes, but it means that the cliffs are falling down and the coastline is depleting - not great. And when you look at Suffolk, there isn't much to it - it's half the size of Norfolk, and pure fields stretching for miles, with towns on the coast, and on the river. In the middle there is very little, and the train journey from London to Norwich defines this by stopping at every stop in Essex, then Ipswich, sometimes Stowmarket, Diss and Norwich. Diss and Ipswich are south and north of the county - there is nothing in between.
Suffolk is stunning, but a little-known gem. Charlie Simpson and Ed Sheeran both hail from South Suffolk, from Woodbridge and Framlingham respectively, and these are very nice places to come from, and beautiful towns, and I am so proud to have grown up in a lovely part of England that I forget to tell people that I live in Suffolk. Norfolk falls out of my mouth and suddenly I regret it. As much as I love Stephen Fry, Suffolk is the place to be proud of, and I hope that my heart will always be pulled towards the countryside. I drove out of Brighton towards Saltdean, and I saw a hill, and a field, and the sea in the distance, and I realised how much I ache not having that peacefulness, that tranquility and loneliness of the countryside.
One day I'll have the money to live out there, in the depths of it all... That's the dream.
Ellingham, the village where my primary school is, has the Waveney go through it, so I literally grew up on the border. I went to High School in Norwich, but my days weren't spent there: I learned to drink and laugh in Bungay and Beccles, both Suffolk towns sat on the Waveney. Beccles even has a restaurant called The Waveney. Shocker.
So this blog is my ode to Suffolk. The finer places to visit are in Suffolk, as the Norfolk coast is so freaking far away and hard to get to, we prefer the Suffolk Coast. It's beautiful. All the way from Southwold down to Ipswich, you see country side, village and town settings which are so unique and pretty and somehow function perfectly without needing massive Tesco's or Greggs every five feet. I love it, the rustic country feel that surprisingly, I've never felt in any populated Norfolk area. Suffolk has some massive charm and appeal: because it's spitting distance from London, you get a lot of older, rich commuting people having lovely country homes in Suffolk, and in the heart of Suffolk you do have a lot of big towns (Ipswich not being a city, so there are no cities in Suffolk), with markets and New Looks and everything Londoners hope for from the countryside.
Of course, Suffolk boarders Essex, which is a massive downside, and makes the south border very unappealing. The funny thing is, Suffolk is like a mysterious county which not many people know much about. The Suffolk coast is beautiful yes, but the North Norfolk Coast is much more famous, and I don't know why. It's very sandy, yes, but it means that the cliffs are falling down and the coastline is depleting - not great. And when you look at Suffolk, there isn't much to it - it's half the size of Norfolk, and pure fields stretching for miles, with towns on the coast, and on the river. In the middle there is very little, and the train journey from London to Norwich defines this by stopping at every stop in Essex, then Ipswich, sometimes Stowmarket, Diss and Norwich. Diss and Ipswich are south and north of the county - there is nothing in between.
Suffolk is stunning, but a little-known gem. Charlie Simpson and Ed Sheeran both hail from South Suffolk, from Woodbridge and Framlingham respectively, and these are very nice places to come from, and beautiful towns, and I am so proud to have grown up in a lovely part of England that I forget to tell people that I live in Suffolk. Norfolk falls out of my mouth and suddenly I regret it. As much as I love Stephen Fry, Suffolk is the place to be proud of, and I hope that my heart will always be pulled towards the countryside. I drove out of Brighton towards Saltdean, and I saw a hill, and a field, and the sea in the distance, and I realised how much I ache not having that peacefulness, that tranquility and loneliness of the countryside.
One day I'll have the money to live out there, in the depths of it all... That's the dream.
Friday 7 October 2011
Dirt off your shoulder
I have a friend. I count them a very good friend, and I am in better contact with them than most of my previously mentioned 'best friends'. This person I speak to third-most in the whole world: the other two being my flat mates. I don't know everything about them - I don't know their favourite film (although I hope it's Van Wilder), and I don't know their favourite colour, but I do know them. That means so much more these days than trivial facts.
I can't even remember how we first started talking. I think I stole Vicky's phone one day, and things grew from there. My entire high school career was framed by this name; all of my friends had heard of him, in varying forms, but no one ever knew him. Even when he came to our prom people didn't know it was him - he was the infamous name that people were just aware of. In one of my history lessons, aged fourteen, I heard some girls whispering about him and his friends. It felt very strange because our friendship was totally unknown. Even aged seventeen, after knowing him for four years, people saw us having a drink together and genuinely seemed shocked. I've never been able to put my finger on why this was so weird for other people. I think it's because I was never friends with people from their school.
Two girls in my class met the boys from Beccles we knew, and they started coming to the gigs and house parties. I hated it; they were too pretty and conventional to like the guys I was friends with. But those two girls were typically very friendly with the good-looking, rugby-playing guys from the boys school. So my friendship may have had a similar affect on them: I was stepping on toes, and it wasn't my character to befriend someone 'jock' instead of 'emo' or 'indie'. Screw labels - whats wrong with getting along with someone?
He makes me laugh, but usually by being inappropriate, which my ex hated. He hated that someone would text me something about sex and I would laugh. He hated that someone else could make the same jokes, or better jokes, than him. He thought he was the only one allowed to say those things. Now he's blocked me on facebook, and I'm closer than ever to the friend. Irony...
With Spence, things were different. Ben had no real reason to hate him - there were no texts, no clear signs of sexual chemistry, but something nagged him. I liked Spence, he's a funny guy and a good person and despite him being the most typical private-school-boy I've ever met, we really meshed well. Except when I was drunk. Still, Ben was never given enough proof to get angry with. One day, in January of 2009, he told me he didn't like me texting either guys. I asked why. He couldn't answer. I text them still, but after a few days, Ben put up another fight. He read my texts and told me to get new friends - he said I should spend my energy befriending people at uni. All this resulted in was my development of feelings for three guys in my class during the time we were going out. Good move Ben.
Then, three days after I finally broke up with him for good, my Skype popped up. Jingles wants to chat. It's been two years of unwanted silence and I feel so terrible, yet it feels like fate/coincidence that he came back into my life exactly when he could. That confirmed my faith in our friendship: sometimes distance and time can ruin things, but sometimes, very seldom, that friend can be a good enough friend to not care; he just wonders how I am, what I'm up to, and why on earth I dated such a dickhead.
There's not much point to this post, except telling the world what was a secret, or disallowed, or frowned upon for so long: I consider James Ingham to be one of my closest friends, and I hope he knows that.
I can't even remember how we first started talking. I think I stole Vicky's phone one day, and things grew from there. My entire high school career was framed by this name; all of my friends had heard of him, in varying forms, but no one ever knew him. Even when he came to our prom people didn't know it was him - he was the infamous name that people were just aware of. In one of my history lessons, aged fourteen, I heard some girls whispering about him and his friends. It felt very strange because our friendship was totally unknown. Even aged seventeen, after knowing him for four years, people saw us having a drink together and genuinely seemed shocked. I've never been able to put my finger on why this was so weird for other people. I think it's because I was never friends with people from their school.
Two girls in my class met the boys from Beccles we knew, and they started coming to the gigs and house parties. I hated it; they were too pretty and conventional to like the guys I was friends with. But those two girls were typically very friendly with the good-looking, rugby-playing guys from the boys school. So my friendship may have had a similar affect on them: I was stepping on toes, and it wasn't my character to befriend someone 'jock' instead of 'emo' or 'indie'. Screw labels - whats wrong with getting along with someone?
He makes me laugh, but usually by being inappropriate, which my ex hated. He hated that someone would text me something about sex and I would laugh. He hated that someone else could make the same jokes, or better jokes, than him. He thought he was the only one allowed to say those things. Now he's blocked me on facebook, and I'm closer than ever to the friend. Irony...
With Spence, things were different. Ben had no real reason to hate him - there were no texts, no clear signs of sexual chemistry, but something nagged him. I liked Spence, he's a funny guy and a good person and despite him being the most typical private-school-boy I've ever met, we really meshed well. Except when I was drunk. Still, Ben was never given enough proof to get angry with. One day, in January of 2009, he told me he didn't like me texting either guys. I asked why. He couldn't answer. I text them still, but after a few days, Ben put up another fight. He read my texts and told me to get new friends - he said I should spend my energy befriending people at uni. All this resulted in was my development of feelings for three guys in my class during the time we were going out. Good move Ben.
Then, three days after I finally broke up with him for good, my Skype popped up. Jingles wants to chat. It's been two years of unwanted silence and I feel so terrible, yet it feels like fate/coincidence that he came back into my life exactly when he could. That confirmed my faith in our friendship: sometimes distance and time can ruin things, but sometimes, very seldom, that friend can be a good enough friend to not care; he just wonders how I am, what I'm up to, and why on earth I dated such a dickhead.
There's not much point to this post, except telling the world what was a secret, or disallowed, or frowned upon for so long: I consider James Ingham to be one of my closest friends, and I hope he knows that.
Who runs the motherf*cking world?
I've written a lot of blogs about boys. Now, I'm focusing on the much more powerful gender: girls.
Firstly, I want to say that females are both ridiculous and incredible. One day we can feel like superwoman, we can do everything, make everyone happy and be so giving and generous. The very next day we can destroy and pull apart our whole life in seconds. Knowing this is possible, and for anyone who has had this happen, we have to go through each day knowing that you have that power. You know that feeling when you see a bus zoom pass, and a tiny part of your brain says "step into the road!", or when you look off the top of a tall building and that same voice says "jump!", girls get this voice which knows how to destroy everything you love. Sometimes, that voice wins. Sometimes, we have to start from the very beginning, and build our lives again. Then that voice comes back... This is why I listen to my iPod a lot. It drowns out that voice.
So, apart from the cruel and destructive nature of the female brain, I love being a girl. I used to think that I should have been born a boy. But I'm glad I wasn't. I love having femininity, and having one week each month when I can be selfish and unreasonable, and have a bath and watch Zac Efron movies, and pamper myself stupid and eat lots of chocolate. I love going to the gym and knowing that our changing room is nicer. Our toilets are nicer. Boots was basically made for women. Men have their things which women don't get too involved in: facial hair, sports related games (football manager, fifa etc), and... there's probably more. But we have a few things which we know that guys can't do. We can wear our boyfriend's clothes, and pull it off. We can hold hands with our friends. We can crash in our friend's bed after a night out. And in the morning, when we both realise that we're just in underwear, we're fine with that.
So, this blog is an ode to all my girlfriends.
The Asian. I say 'the' meaning the first. The littlest. Chambake. Super chocolate bear. Jamal. I was so proud of myself the day I learnt to spell Chamaale... The Timone to my Pumba. The Lilo to my Stitch. The Slinky to my Rex. The Nemo to my Dorie. Even if we hadn't met at 11, we'd still have a friendship based upon extremely 11-year-old-ish things. Like stealing the blankets off each other, and chasing each other round tables. We'll always laugh together: even at a funeral, or something massively inappropriate. We both have very adult lifestyles, more so for her, with being a Doctor and all... But we'll always be children together, mocking our friend's fiancee and his girly cupcake.
My wife. My Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. The one I swore to always go back to - we knew we'd never be faithful, but we'll always stay together, no matter what. We can have pillow chats about our various male friends, we can drink silly coloured drinks, fruity cocktails, or just eat fruit on a freezing beach, and we will always have something to chat about. Life didn't break us apart, moving schools, moving cities, being in different places in our lives: none of that affected our friendship, and I love our marriage for that. I love our friendship, and how amazingly simple it can be, despite our complicated lives. I love drinking wine, sitting in a hot tub, cruising down to the coast or just watching you paint a mirror frame. You make everything entertaining; even crying.
The mistress, George... Georgie Porgie, Pudding and Pie... Oh, you little fox. I love how much you've grown up since high school. I loved you when we were fifteen and you had your dorky jokes about pride and prejudice. You were always so sweet and friendly: when I saw you in Leeds, I knew that going to Uni was the best thing you'd ever done. Being in a new environment, away from her, and making new friends, made you blossom into such a lovely young lady. I'm very excited about knowing you as a woman - you're going to break a lot of hearts!
Lamasaurus. Tifa. Samwel. Samalam. Sam-Stew. The list is endless... I can't even think of a one-word description for our relationship. We became friends on our bus rides to school, and I quickly thought she was the coolest thing since sliced bread. We spent that first summer together as best friends, and it was an excellent summer. The other girls we were friends with came and went, but we stuck it out. She became a burgerer, and she was the first friend to actually succeed at burgering. We went on many journeys together - some spiritual, some geographical, some just good old fashioned road trips... A lot of water has passed under the bridge, and a lot of unsaid things, or too frequently said things, have come between us. But we're a tiny bit more mature now, and we are still as hilarious together as ever. I'll never forget how amazing it felt to sit in a pub in bungay with her, ordering far too much drink and being far too loud. She's the cookie dough and I'm the ice cream: like toast and peanut butter, two things that are great on their own, but together, make you so happy your belly smiles. She makes my belly smile.
My Millie, my milliscent... Lovely. She's my lovely. I love seeing her smile, and when she's not smiling I make it my personal mission to produce a smile on her face again. She's been a rock, a constant, a brilliant thing in my over-dramatic and sometimes over-alcohol-fueled life. She covered my ass when I fell asleep at work from a banging hang over. She helped me move 200 miles. She was there the day I met my new life, and she was still in it. She stuck out a rain-drenched McFly concert for me. She is a truly wonderful friend, and I sometimes wonder where on Earth I'd be without her... She was the person from Norfolk who I was closest with in first year, and without that I might have forgotten my other friends too. I have her to thank for so much, and the best way I can make it up to her is belittling her boyfriend's gifts and taking her to Paris. Oops.
The Flat Mate; the wild one - Maz. In second year, I sat on our sofa for about half an hour shouting "M'ria" up the stairs and you couldn't hear because you were listening to music... I don't think I'd be able to live without her, literally. She keeps my belly full and my head sane. She gives me motivation to do those things that I'd been putting off, and she helps me be the person that I want to be, not the shit person I think I am. She's met every part of my life and is so easy going and happy about it all: my crazy racist parents, my varying Norfolk friends who instantly loved her, and my uni friends who see her as their own friend anyway; she embraces so much in life and I hope that one day I can learn to be so open to new people, and so forgiving of old friends.
You six are amazing, and I hope you know this. You make me so proud to be your friend, and I am so grateful for all the times I've fucked up and you've forgiven me, or just forgotten about it. I hope this can last forever.
Firstly, I want to say that females are both ridiculous and incredible. One day we can feel like superwoman, we can do everything, make everyone happy and be so giving and generous. The very next day we can destroy and pull apart our whole life in seconds. Knowing this is possible, and for anyone who has had this happen, we have to go through each day knowing that you have that power. You know that feeling when you see a bus zoom pass, and a tiny part of your brain says "step into the road!", or when you look off the top of a tall building and that same voice says "jump!", girls get this voice which knows how to destroy everything you love. Sometimes, that voice wins. Sometimes, we have to start from the very beginning, and build our lives again. Then that voice comes back... This is why I listen to my iPod a lot. It drowns out that voice.
So, apart from the cruel and destructive nature of the female brain, I love being a girl. I used to think that I should have been born a boy. But I'm glad I wasn't. I love having femininity, and having one week each month when I can be selfish and unreasonable, and have a bath and watch Zac Efron movies, and pamper myself stupid and eat lots of chocolate. I love going to the gym and knowing that our changing room is nicer. Our toilets are nicer. Boots was basically made for women. Men have their things which women don't get too involved in: facial hair, sports related games (football manager, fifa etc), and... there's probably more. But we have a few things which we know that guys can't do. We can wear our boyfriend's clothes, and pull it off. We can hold hands with our friends. We can crash in our friend's bed after a night out. And in the morning, when we both realise that we're just in underwear, we're fine with that.
So, this blog is an ode to all my girlfriends.
The Asian. I say 'the' meaning the first. The littlest. Chambake. Super chocolate bear. Jamal. I was so proud of myself the day I learnt to spell Chamaale... The Timone to my Pumba. The Lilo to my Stitch. The Slinky to my Rex. The Nemo to my Dorie. Even if we hadn't met at 11, we'd still have a friendship based upon extremely 11-year-old-ish things. Like stealing the blankets off each other, and chasing each other round tables. We'll always laugh together: even at a funeral, or something massively inappropriate. We both have very adult lifestyles, more so for her, with being a Doctor and all... But we'll always be children together, mocking our friend's fiancee and his girly cupcake.
My wife. My Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. The one I swore to always go back to - we knew we'd never be faithful, but we'll always stay together, no matter what. We can have pillow chats about our various male friends, we can drink silly coloured drinks, fruity cocktails, or just eat fruit on a freezing beach, and we will always have something to chat about. Life didn't break us apart, moving schools, moving cities, being in different places in our lives: none of that affected our friendship, and I love our marriage for that. I love our friendship, and how amazingly simple it can be, despite our complicated lives. I love drinking wine, sitting in a hot tub, cruising down to the coast or just watching you paint a mirror frame. You make everything entertaining; even crying.
The mistress, George... Georgie Porgie, Pudding and Pie... Oh, you little fox. I love how much you've grown up since high school. I loved you when we were fifteen and you had your dorky jokes about pride and prejudice. You were always so sweet and friendly: when I saw you in Leeds, I knew that going to Uni was the best thing you'd ever done. Being in a new environment, away from her, and making new friends, made you blossom into such a lovely young lady. I'm very excited about knowing you as a woman - you're going to break a lot of hearts!
Lamasaurus. Tifa. Samwel. Samalam. Sam-Stew. The list is endless... I can't even think of a one-word description for our relationship. We became friends on our bus rides to school, and I quickly thought she was the coolest thing since sliced bread. We spent that first summer together as best friends, and it was an excellent summer. The other girls we were friends with came and went, but we stuck it out. She became a burgerer, and she was the first friend to actually succeed at burgering. We went on many journeys together - some spiritual, some geographical, some just good old fashioned road trips... A lot of water has passed under the bridge, and a lot of unsaid things, or too frequently said things, have come between us. But we're a tiny bit more mature now, and we are still as hilarious together as ever. I'll never forget how amazing it felt to sit in a pub in bungay with her, ordering far too much drink and being far too loud. She's the cookie dough and I'm the ice cream: like toast and peanut butter, two things that are great on their own, but together, make you so happy your belly smiles. She makes my belly smile.
My Millie, my milliscent... Lovely. She's my lovely. I love seeing her smile, and when she's not smiling I make it my personal mission to produce a smile on her face again. She's been a rock, a constant, a brilliant thing in my over-dramatic and sometimes over-alcohol-fueled life. She covered my ass when I fell asleep at work from a banging hang over. She helped me move 200 miles. She was there the day I met my new life, and she was still in it. She stuck out a rain-drenched McFly concert for me. She is a truly wonderful friend, and I sometimes wonder where on Earth I'd be without her... She was the person from Norfolk who I was closest with in first year, and without that I might have forgotten my other friends too. I have her to thank for so much, and the best way I can make it up to her is belittling her boyfriend's gifts and taking her to Paris. Oops.
The Flat Mate; the wild one - Maz. In second year, I sat on our sofa for about half an hour shouting "M'ria" up the stairs and you couldn't hear because you were listening to music... I don't think I'd be able to live without her, literally. She keeps my belly full and my head sane. She gives me motivation to do those things that I'd been putting off, and she helps me be the person that I want to be, not the shit person I think I am. She's met every part of my life and is so easy going and happy about it all: my crazy racist parents, my varying Norfolk friends who instantly loved her, and my uni friends who see her as their own friend anyway; she embraces so much in life and I hope that one day I can learn to be so open to new people, and so forgiving of old friends.
You six are amazing, and I hope you know this. You make me so proud to be your friend, and I am so grateful for all the times I've fucked up and you've forgiven me, or just forgotten about it. I hope this can last forever.
Monday 3 October 2011
Sigh No More
I can't write this one the same way I've written the others. This one hasn't ended.
I've lost best friends from break ups, and I've lost brand new friends from accidental slips of the tongue... I've messed up a lot, I've made more mistakes than I can count, I've hurt a lot of people and I can't apologise enough to the people who I've made cry, mainly because my apology didn't change anything. I can't turn back time, in any way, so I must accept what has happened and move on, despite how difficult it is sometimes, and how much my heart doesn't want to.
The best things come to those wait. I waited for the boy, who knew I had broken up with my boyfriend coincidentally just after we had kissed, for something to happen. After a month of his soberity, then three weeks of us taking things slowly, and two years of friendship, I felt a true happiness, a true love and calmness in my life which I can pinpoint exactly where it came from. Those problems, with those friends who made second year very difficult for me... they carried on. A lot of hurt was yet to be felt, but that hurt didn't feel any where near as bad with him by my side. Working, studying and learning was so easy because I knew that when I wasn't studying, I could be with him. I can almost thank him for my first (although I shouldn't, because I know it was my doing really). It is our one-year anniversary in three weeks. I don't want this to mean too much, but... I've never got here before. I am so happy, life is good, I am living with a guy who makes me smile just by lying in bed and snoring, and despite his weird love for wrestling and his grandpa-like vest, I am so glad of the mistakes I've made because they've lead me to him, and I wouldn't change this for anything.
Apart from maybe Zac Efron.
I've lost best friends from break ups, and I've lost brand new friends from accidental slips of the tongue... I've messed up a lot, I've made more mistakes than I can count, I've hurt a lot of people and I can't apologise enough to the people who I've made cry, mainly because my apology didn't change anything. I can't turn back time, in any way, so I must accept what has happened and move on, despite how difficult it is sometimes, and how much my heart doesn't want to.
The best things come to those wait. I waited for the boy, who knew I had broken up with my boyfriend coincidentally just after we had kissed, for something to happen. After a month of his soberity, then three weeks of us taking things slowly, and two years of friendship, I felt a true happiness, a true love and calmness in my life which I can pinpoint exactly where it came from. Those problems, with those friends who made second year very difficult for me... they carried on. A lot of hurt was yet to be felt, but that hurt didn't feel any where near as bad with him by my side. Working, studying and learning was so easy because I knew that when I wasn't studying, I could be with him. I can almost thank him for my first (although I shouldn't, because I know it was my doing really). It is our one-year anniversary in three weeks. I don't want this to mean too much, but... I've never got here before. I am so happy, life is good, I am living with a guy who makes me smile just by lying in bed and snoring, and despite his weird love for wrestling and his grandpa-like vest, I am so glad of the mistakes I've made because they've lead me to him, and I wouldn't change this for anything.
Apart from maybe Zac Efron.
I really fucked it up this time, didn't I my dear?
This is where I may struggle to pull memories up properly. Although closer in time, I have suppressed a lot of moments and I haven't dared let anything resurface. But today, I will. Today, I'm putting a shovel into the dead half of my memory and hoping that nothing's still alive.
June 28th 2008 was the first night. Leaver's ball, wine, then Bungay... and that night changed so much. The next day, apart from feeling unshowered and hungover, I genuinely had this air of happiness, and that everything was good, and that the steps I was taking were good steps to a better life.
The whole summer nothing was ever made official. One night Charlotte called him my boyfriend and he awkwardly tried to act like he hadn't heard those words. He bought my friends drinks, and told me that he thought labels didn't matter, it's actions that matter. He never wanted to put our 'relationship' on facebook because of it. We had a good three months together before we both had to leave for separate universities. The night before I left he was supposed to be calling me for him to pick him up and spend our last night together. He was in Southwold, with his friend Amy, who I never met, and never wanted to meet. She seemed like the typical girl-next-door which any angry girlfriend could easily blame for all her relationship problems. Its probably better that I didn't meet her, I guess. Either way, that night, he never called. I tried phoning him, but he had no signal. I was up until about 3am, so angry with him that I refused to sleep through principle. I phoned Aaron, a guy I wasn't too close with, to get Amy's number. He said he text it to me, but it didn't work. I was getting more and more angry with everything. I think I cried with anger more that night than I ever have in my life. Something flicked, and I was sick of his attitude towards me: this casual, unimportant friendship that had some benefits... The next day I woke up to pack and leave for uni, but he finally phoned and asked for me to meet him. I said I didn't have time, so he offered to help pack. We spoke for a while about our 'relationship', and I told him how angry I was with him. He said he understood, and fine - we'll pinch this candle out before the wax spills everywhere.
And then I left. Milli and I got in my car, without a bag of shoes, because it turns out that Ben's packing skills were quite limited, and I drove to Southampton. We were late, due to the unforeseen drama, and missed out on pizza with the new flatmates. That night Milli and I shared my broken bed, tried to move my life into a new city, and I felt, apart from the nerves and crippling fear of having to make friends, relieved. Norfolk was over. I could bury it all in the past, and certain things, like bad memories, unfortunate incidents and unwanted ex's, could stay buried in Norfolk.
But no. Never introduce your new friends to your old gossipy school friend, who proceeds to tell all your most embarrassing stories. Also, never underestimate the affect alcohol can have on a young man who is also a liar.
About a week after moving in, Ben phoned me. He missed me, he wants us to still be friends. He asked how I was settling in, and I was perfectly honest with him: I told him about the three friends I'd made, all guys, all comic-book dorks and proud of it, and pretty spacky, but we all got along, and I liked it. Ben was fine with this.
End of October, and Ben has been phoning constantly saying we should try and make this work. He even speaks to my flat mate occasionally, and she has made up a song about him... it's just his name repeated to a silly tune. I plan my first social event with new friends - a trip to the cinema to see Saw V the day it comes out, with the biggest Saw fan I've ever met. I'm excited, because despite how much I freak out at gore on screen, I'm glad that I have a life of my own at uni, and I feel like a student finally. The day of the planned trip, I think it was a friday, I get a phone call. It's Ben, surprisingly. He says something like 'how's your day off?' and as I go to reply I hear a knock at the door. I walk out and see said boy on my porch holding a rose. I let him in, surprised and overwhelmed, as one is when someone expects you to take them in on a second's notice, and I tell him about my plans for the evening. He says I'll have to just go to the cinema another night, because now that he's here, he wants to spend all his time with me. I phone Matt. He's gutted, and understandably angry. I can't remember what we did, but that night we all did something together instead, me and Ben and Matt and Al and Adam... I think. And possibly Carlo and Maria.... I can't remember. Either way, I remember walking up the road and Matt and Ben were having their first ever conversation, arguing about Gladiator being a bad film.
After that, Ben changed a bit. He was more serious about making our relationship work, asking me to visit him more often (as my flat mate had a car and lived in Guildford too, where her boyfriend also lived, this worked out quite well... twice), but never wanting to make things official and real. Never admitting to the difficulties of long distance relationships. In the next two months, I found my life growing away from Ben in every way possible - I fancied new people, I found my friendship group and they were nothing like Ben and his group of friends. I moulded my life to be mine, and he got angry that he didn't fit in my life anymore. I can't remember when, but we decided to call it a day in early december. I went out about a week later with Maria and her class mates, to Rhino. That night I met Mark.
As a side note, Mark should probably be a whole entry of his own due to how fucked up he was, but I can't be bothered. He was an idiot, he was possessive and controlling and disgusting and eventually wouldn't let me break up with him. I literally had to go to Norfolk to get away from him.
I told Ben about Mark. He knew I had met someone, and slept with someone, but this didn't affect him. It was my announcing on Facebook in January that I was "in a relationship" that pushed him over the edge. He hit the drink for a week and had three one-night-stands. He got angry and finally stopped calling me. He tried to forget me, he got over me, and for a while, we lived without being in each other's lives.
I had tried, unsuccessfully, to break up with Mark, but it was when someone told me I should break up with him that I did. That someone was the reason I broke up with him too. I hated Mark, and I wanted to be with the guy I'd been thinking about being with for so long that it almost didn't seem real when it finally happened. So much so that something went wrong. That week is one of the few moments in my life which I wish I could go back to and change. See how things would have worked. Actually try to do something, instead of just running from real feelings, and the fear of losing a friend. If I'd known then what would happen in the next year... I wouldn't have done it. I know that much, but I also can't change what has happened. Shame.
After that, I went back to Norfolk for the summer, to-ing and fro-ing from Norfolk to Southampton, as I did every summer of Uni. I met Ben again. I looked skinny, thank god, and he missed me. I tried to act nonchalant, but to no affect - within days we were seeing each other again. This time, he made it official. He asked me out, he promised to do more from his side, and during the summer we worked. It was fine, it was good, but then we went back to Uni and it stopped working for me. I felt like I was lost, with one of my best friends ignoring me, a new friend thrown into the mix, a new house, new flat mates (except Maria, of course), new things to try and do and wanting to get a job and not go back to Norfolk so often... That term, I didn't go home once. I saw my parents in November at a meal in Odiham with my brother, but that was it. I was living on my own, doing things my way, and Ben was holding me back. He wouldn't let me live if he was coming down for the weekend, yet would make me feel guilty that he'd spent so much time and money seeing me. This went on for too long. Then... Then I started going out without the girls. My new neighbour was too good at convincing me to go out at a moment's notice, and he'd pick a pair of shoes and t-shirt for me to wear and off we'd go. Cheap drinks, lots of dancing and laughing - the most fun nights out I'd had as a student.
Then it all went wrong. I made the same mistake again. I found a friend who I wanted more than just friendship with. We got along so well, and life was so simple. He'd walk to my door in the morning. I'd never had a friend that I didn't live with to walk to school or uni with before. He'd walk me home after a night out, despite everyone else living seconds away from my house. He had a girlfriend, I had a boyfriend, yet we still did what we did, and broke two people's hearts.
Before I told Ben, I told the girls. They were angry. They told people too, and my nosy flat mate started spreading rumours, which despite being false, actually lead to the correct assumption. Everyone knew, and we didn't stop. I told Ben, and I told him we should break up. I wouldn't tell him who though, because I hoped that there might be something left in our fling apart from just adultery. I was very wrong. It hurt to lose two guys, a lot of friends and two years worth of trust.
Everything got very messy. Ben wanted to be with me still, for reasons I couldn't understand. He didn't trust me, and I knew he didn't, but he wanted to learn to again. I tried not to let it happen, but my friendships at uni were falling apart one by one. No one trusted anything I said anymore, people were talking a lot behind my back, I was totally out of the loop and the final straw was when I felt like my friends, the people who should be able to help me in this moment of need, we literally poking me with their cruelty and bitching. I snapped. I freaked out, unreasonably, and I got on a train. I went to Guildford, seeking the last friendship I knew of, and I found a guy who was trying to be with me. I fell, and I woke in the morning to realise nothing had changed. I still felt lost, and I wouldn't find what I was looking for from him by running back to the comfort of the past. I broke his heart again and left.
Back home, panic had ensued. My phone had died, and I'd text the girl living in my room trying to convey what had happened, but she never got the text. People thought I'd committed suicide. My flat mate had been roaming the streets looking for me. Worst of all, this drove the final nail in the hammer of three friendships. After that, no one spoke to me. When they entered the room, and stoney silence followed in their wake. I could feel cold eyes burning into my head, and I wanted to shrivel up and die for about six weeks. I found the boys, my other friends, to now be my only friends. They took me in, like an owl covering up it's young, and let me rant and rage about the problems I was going through. They helped me find what I'd been looking for the whole time: peace. A quietness, a calmness, in which silence is golden and not awkward, and laughter is shared in any moment, because the first step to feeling better is remembering to smile.
Over Easter I went back to Norfolk, to escape the awkward feelings I got in Southampton sometimes, and to earn a bit of dosh, of course. One evening a friend told me something on MSN which broke my heart slightly. My final nail in my own coffin, knowing that I'd finally lost someone that had once meant the world to me, and knowing that so many lies had been woven for my ears alone, that I broke. I couldn't trust any of the people who I had once spent every moment with. That Easter, I got back with Ben, again. I'm not saying that the two things happened coincidentally... I think my heart purposefully did it.
That Summer I barely spent any time in Southampton. When I was, the times were good, but things were not normal, and the tiniest problem sparked hundreds of arguments. Uni started again, for third year. At this point, my best friends at Uni were the girl who lived down the corridor, and the boy who lived behind me. The three people who lived up the road were like a haze of a memory: the few times that they acknowledged my existence, and spent any time with me, nothing felt the same. Life had changed, and we weren't the same as we once were...
Then, quite surprisingly, my best friend kissed me, and I suddenly I felt feelings I'd never felt for him before. I knew that I couldn't ignore them; more so than lust and desire, our friendship had moved to a new level, and the only option was either embrace it, or turn away from the friend completely. Ben didn't trust me, still, and I couldn't try for him any longer. I told him I was falling in love with someone else. It's the most memorable conversation I've ever had with him, because for once, I was just trying to tell him something, and tell him how I couldn't stay with him knowing that I was falling in love with someone else, so it had to end. Everything ended suddenly. He deleted me from his life. He didn't even appear on Facebook anymore, as if he'd never existed.
I haven't seen him since. It's been a year. My first ever blog was about the friend that kissed me. I found out that weeks after he disappeared from my life, his step mum became pregnant, and had a baby. How did I miss a whole life beginning?
It's symbolic somehow. The pain, the hurt, and the heart break that in the midst of all our varying states of between being in love and fearing each other's faces, I feel like something died. A memory, or hope, or something. After that death, after the burial of that death, came new life. Kind of poignant, kind of cheesy, overall pretty weird. I'm still scared of seeing him though. I know I will be until I do see him... But I don't think, if it was up to him, that would ever happen. Shame. I'll just have to live in fear of his face...
June 28th 2008 was the first night. Leaver's ball, wine, then Bungay... and that night changed so much. The next day, apart from feeling unshowered and hungover, I genuinely had this air of happiness, and that everything was good, and that the steps I was taking were good steps to a better life.
The whole summer nothing was ever made official. One night Charlotte called him my boyfriend and he awkwardly tried to act like he hadn't heard those words. He bought my friends drinks, and told me that he thought labels didn't matter, it's actions that matter. He never wanted to put our 'relationship' on facebook because of it. We had a good three months together before we both had to leave for separate universities. The night before I left he was supposed to be calling me for him to pick him up and spend our last night together. He was in Southwold, with his friend Amy, who I never met, and never wanted to meet. She seemed like the typical girl-next-door which any angry girlfriend could easily blame for all her relationship problems. Its probably better that I didn't meet her, I guess. Either way, that night, he never called. I tried phoning him, but he had no signal. I was up until about 3am, so angry with him that I refused to sleep through principle. I phoned Aaron, a guy I wasn't too close with, to get Amy's number. He said he text it to me, but it didn't work. I was getting more and more angry with everything. I think I cried with anger more that night than I ever have in my life. Something flicked, and I was sick of his attitude towards me: this casual, unimportant friendship that had some benefits... The next day I woke up to pack and leave for uni, but he finally phoned and asked for me to meet him. I said I didn't have time, so he offered to help pack. We spoke for a while about our 'relationship', and I told him how angry I was with him. He said he understood, and fine - we'll pinch this candle out before the wax spills everywhere.
And then I left. Milli and I got in my car, without a bag of shoes, because it turns out that Ben's packing skills were quite limited, and I drove to Southampton. We were late, due to the unforeseen drama, and missed out on pizza with the new flatmates. That night Milli and I shared my broken bed, tried to move my life into a new city, and I felt, apart from the nerves and crippling fear of having to make friends, relieved. Norfolk was over. I could bury it all in the past, and certain things, like bad memories, unfortunate incidents and unwanted ex's, could stay buried in Norfolk.
But no. Never introduce your new friends to your old gossipy school friend, who proceeds to tell all your most embarrassing stories. Also, never underestimate the affect alcohol can have on a young man who is also a liar.
About a week after moving in, Ben phoned me. He missed me, he wants us to still be friends. He asked how I was settling in, and I was perfectly honest with him: I told him about the three friends I'd made, all guys, all comic-book dorks and proud of it, and pretty spacky, but we all got along, and I liked it. Ben was fine with this.
End of October, and Ben has been phoning constantly saying we should try and make this work. He even speaks to my flat mate occasionally, and she has made up a song about him... it's just his name repeated to a silly tune. I plan my first social event with new friends - a trip to the cinema to see Saw V the day it comes out, with the biggest Saw fan I've ever met. I'm excited, because despite how much I freak out at gore on screen, I'm glad that I have a life of my own at uni, and I feel like a student finally. The day of the planned trip, I think it was a friday, I get a phone call. It's Ben, surprisingly. He says something like 'how's your day off?' and as I go to reply I hear a knock at the door. I walk out and see said boy on my porch holding a rose. I let him in, surprised and overwhelmed, as one is when someone expects you to take them in on a second's notice, and I tell him about my plans for the evening. He says I'll have to just go to the cinema another night, because now that he's here, he wants to spend all his time with me. I phone Matt. He's gutted, and understandably angry. I can't remember what we did, but that night we all did something together instead, me and Ben and Matt and Al and Adam... I think. And possibly Carlo and Maria.... I can't remember. Either way, I remember walking up the road and Matt and Ben were having their first ever conversation, arguing about Gladiator being a bad film.
After that, Ben changed a bit. He was more serious about making our relationship work, asking me to visit him more often (as my flat mate had a car and lived in Guildford too, where her boyfriend also lived, this worked out quite well... twice), but never wanting to make things official and real. Never admitting to the difficulties of long distance relationships. In the next two months, I found my life growing away from Ben in every way possible - I fancied new people, I found my friendship group and they were nothing like Ben and his group of friends. I moulded my life to be mine, and he got angry that he didn't fit in my life anymore. I can't remember when, but we decided to call it a day in early december. I went out about a week later with Maria and her class mates, to Rhino. That night I met Mark.
As a side note, Mark should probably be a whole entry of his own due to how fucked up he was, but I can't be bothered. He was an idiot, he was possessive and controlling and disgusting and eventually wouldn't let me break up with him. I literally had to go to Norfolk to get away from him.
I told Ben about Mark. He knew I had met someone, and slept with someone, but this didn't affect him. It was my announcing on Facebook in January that I was "in a relationship" that pushed him over the edge. He hit the drink for a week and had three one-night-stands. He got angry and finally stopped calling me. He tried to forget me, he got over me, and for a while, we lived without being in each other's lives.
I had tried, unsuccessfully, to break up with Mark, but it was when someone told me I should break up with him that I did. That someone was the reason I broke up with him too. I hated Mark, and I wanted to be with the guy I'd been thinking about being with for so long that it almost didn't seem real when it finally happened. So much so that something went wrong. That week is one of the few moments in my life which I wish I could go back to and change. See how things would have worked. Actually try to do something, instead of just running from real feelings, and the fear of losing a friend. If I'd known then what would happen in the next year... I wouldn't have done it. I know that much, but I also can't change what has happened. Shame.
After that, I went back to Norfolk for the summer, to-ing and fro-ing from Norfolk to Southampton, as I did every summer of Uni. I met Ben again. I looked skinny, thank god, and he missed me. I tried to act nonchalant, but to no affect - within days we were seeing each other again. This time, he made it official. He asked me out, he promised to do more from his side, and during the summer we worked. It was fine, it was good, but then we went back to Uni and it stopped working for me. I felt like I was lost, with one of my best friends ignoring me, a new friend thrown into the mix, a new house, new flat mates (except Maria, of course), new things to try and do and wanting to get a job and not go back to Norfolk so often... That term, I didn't go home once. I saw my parents in November at a meal in Odiham with my brother, but that was it. I was living on my own, doing things my way, and Ben was holding me back. He wouldn't let me live if he was coming down for the weekend, yet would make me feel guilty that he'd spent so much time and money seeing me. This went on for too long. Then... Then I started going out without the girls. My new neighbour was too good at convincing me to go out at a moment's notice, and he'd pick a pair of shoes and t-shirt for me to wear and off we'd go. Cheap drinks, lots of dancing and laughing - the most fun nights out I'd had as a student.
Then it all went wrong. I made the same mistake again. I found a friend who I wanted more than just friendship with. We got along so well, and life was so simple. He'd walk to my door in the morning. I'd never had a friend that I didn't live with to walk to school or uni with before. He'd walk me home after a night out, despite everyone else living seconds away from my house. He had a girlfriend, I had a boyfriend, yet we still did what we did, and broke two people's hearts.
Before I told Ben, I told the girls. They were angry. They told people too, and my nosy flat mate started spreading rumours, which despite being false, actually lead to the correct assumption. Everyone knew, and we didn't stop. I told Ben, and I told him we should break up. I wouldn't tell him who though, because I hoped that there might be something left in our fling apart from just adultery. I was very wrong. It hurt to lose two guys, a lot of friends and two years worth of trust.
Everything got very messy. Ben wanted to be with me still, for reasons I couldn't understand. He didn't trust me, and I knew he didn't, but he wanted to learn to again. I tried not to let it happen, but my friendships at uni were falling apart one by one. No one trusted anything I said anymore, people were talking a lot behind my back, I was totally out of the loop and the final straw was when I felt like my friends, the people who should be able to help me in this moment of need, we literally poking me with their cruelty and bitching. I snapped. I freaked out, unreasonably, and I got on a train. I went to Guildford, seeking the last friendship I knew of, and I found a guy who was trying to be with me. I fell, and I woke in the morning to realise nothing had changed. I still felt lost, and I wouldn't find what I was looking for from him by running back to the comfort of the past. I broke his heart again and left.
Back home, panic had ensued. My phone had died, and I'd text the girl living in my room trying to convey what had happened, but she never got the text. People thought I'd committed suicide. My flat mate had been roaming the streets looking for me. Worst of all, this drove the final nail in the hammer of three friendships. After that, no one spoke to me. When they entered the room, and stoney silence followed in their wake. I could feel cold eyes burning into my head, and I wanted to shrivel up and die for about six weeks. I found the boys, my other friends, to now be my only friends. They took me in, like an owl covering up it's young, and let me rant and rage about the problems I was going through. They helped me find what I'd been looking for the whole time: peace. A quietness, a calmness, in which silence is golden and not awkward, and laughter is shared in any moment, because the first step to feeling better is remembering to smile.
Over Easter I went back to Norfolk, to escape the awkward feelings I got in Southampton sometimes, and to earn a bit of dosh, of course. One evening a friend told me something on MSN which broke my heart slightly. My final nail in my own coffin, knowing that I'd finally lost someone that had once meant the world to me, and knowing that so many lies had been woven for my ears alone, that I broke. I couldn't trust any of the people who I had once spent every moment with. That Easter, I got back with Ben, again. I'm not saying that the two things happened coincidentally... I think my heart purposefully did it.
That Summer I barely spent any time in Southampton. When I was, the times were good, but things were not normal, and the tiniest problem sparked hundreds of arguments. Uni started again, for third year. At this point, my best friends at Uni were the girl who lived down the corridor, and the boy who lived behind me. The three people who lived up the road were like a haze of a memory: the few times that they acknowledged my existence, and spent any time with me, nothing felt the same. Life had changed, and we weren't the same as we once were...
Then, quite surprisingly, my best friend kissed me, and I suddenly I felt feelings I'd never felt for him before. I knew that I couldn't ignore them; more so than lust and desire, our friendship had moved to a new level, and the only option was either embrace it, or turn away from the friend completely. Ben didn't trust me, still, and I couldn't try for him any longer. I told him I was falling in love with someone else. It's the most memorable conversation I've ever had with him, because for once, I was just trying to tell him something, and tell him how I couldn't stay with him knowing that I was falling in love with someone else, so it had to end. Everything ended suddenly. He deleted me from his life. He didn't even appear on Facebook anymore, as if he'd never existed.
I haven't seen him since. It's been a year. My first ever blog was about the friend that kissed me. I found out that weeks after he disappeared from my life, his step mum became pregnant, and had a baby. How did I miss a whole life beginning?
It's symbolic somehow. The pain, the hurt, and the heart break that in the midst of all our varying states of between being in love and fearing each other's faces, I feel like something died. A memory, or hope, or something. After that death, after the burial of that death, came new life. Kind of poignant, kind of cheesy, overall pretty weird. I'm still scared of seeing him though. I know I will be until I do see him... But I don't think, if it was up to him, that would ever happen. Shame. I'll just have to live in fear of his face...
Saturday 1 October 2011
On my knees and out of luck, I look up
So, to update on the previous blogs: I've covered Bob, Will, Thomson and Smithy, Barnaby and Jack. We've chronologically reached the end of 2006, when I had just broken up with Barnaby after accidentally kissing Rowan. (I say accidentally... there was a lot of alcohol involved, and I know it doesn't count as an accident, but looking back, that kiss meant absolutely nothing, and frankly, was just fuel for the argument which ensued between Vicky and I.)
So, I had just started sixth form and with it, I had a new 'study group'. Sam, Charlotte, Ed and I used to hang out at Charlotte's house, attempting to do homework but usually just watching Jeremy Kyle, dying everyone's hair, especially my own and Ed's, and generally fucking around. This lasted quite some time. Charlotte fancied Ed, but was jealous that Sam had kissed him weeks before at a party during which Charlotte told us she fancied Rowan, so they had a small falling out. The group thinned to me, Ed and Charlotte. Then, I can't remember when, Ed and I became an item. This is only really relevant because of a moment that happens in one year's time. And then it was 2007, and my work load was increasing, yet I wasn't getting any of it done. And an old friend had decided to get in contact with me. We chatted a lot. We discussed all the things that had happened before: the reason he'd broken up with me over a year ago, which he revealed was due to fear that I didn't really like him, and he was scared of that. I told him he was stupid, and a bit of a coward. He admitted he was, but said that talking to me again was his comeuppance. We began dating in May, and the whole summer was a blur of music, sunshine, his dog Hendrix and his car. It got cold, I went back to school, and his band mates moved to London. He decided not to, and to stay in Suffolk to go to college. He phoned me the first day he was in London, having not yet made this decision, telling me he missed me. I remember feeling guilty. I couldn't imagine a long-distance relationship, but I didn't want to ask anything from him, as much as I was in love with him. It was at Christmas, when he went to visit his mates in London, and he knew his college course was about to end, that he came to another cross roads. Yet again, he picked Suffolk. This time I knew that it was nothing to do with future plans. He'd saved money, and he had a plan - he just couldn't leave me. I hated knowing that I was the only thing holding him back. Yes it was romantic of him to want to stay, but our year's difference shouldn't mean that his life should be on hold for me. On Boxing Day, on a beach, watching a beautiful sunset in Thorpeness, I broke his heart. And I know it was horrible, but I didn't want to wait to do the inevitable.
We saw each other a few more times after that; maybe three of four. I remember wanting to look at him as long as possible, because I didn't know when or if I'd ever see him again. We went our separate ways, and almost two years later Lucy and I went to see their band in London. It was nice to catch up with the boys of our past again, and it was nice to see that he was alive and happy. Since then he's got a girlfriend, who I try not to stalk on facebook, but sometimes I can't help it. She's so much more perfect for him than I ever was: I try to tell myself that breaking up with him was the best thing I ever did for his life, but I still feel a little bit guilty and selfish, wondering if we'd have worked. Wondering where my life might have taken me. Knowing what moments I experienced after that wouldn't have happened... It's hard to let go of the past. I was single for six months after breaking up with him. That was the last time I was single for any length of time. And during that single time, I did two very stupid things: one of them involved my legs covered in nettle stings, my sister's ring lost in a field, my body exploding in a rash after taking the morning-after pill; and the other involved an event with a friend, which if it had never happened, our relationship might have been very different, and I might not have lost two years with him because of an over-jealous boyfriend.
And so I finished high school. No wonder my a-levels didn't go well.... although I'm thankful they didn't: if they had, I might not have ended up at Solent, and I may not have ever met him...
So, I had just started sixth form and with it, I had a new 'study group'. Sam, Charlotte, Ed and I used to hang out at Charlotte's house, attempting to do homework but usually just watching Jeremy Kyle, dying everyone's hair, especially my own and Ed's, and generally fucking around. This lasted quite some time. Charlotte fancied Ed, but was jealous that Sam had kissed him weeks before at a party during which Charlotte told us she fancied Rowan, so they had a small falling out. The group thinned to me, Ed and Charlotte. Then, I can't remember when, Ed and I became an item. This is only really relevant because of a moment that happens in one year's time. And then it was 2007, and my work load was increasing, yet I wasn't getting any of it done. And an old friend had decided to get in contact with me. We chatted a lot. We discussed all the things that had happened before: the reason he'd broken up with me over a year ago, which he revealed was due to fear that I didn't really like him, and he was scared of that. I told him he was stupid, and a bit of a coward. He admitted he was, but said that talking to me again was his comeuppance. We began dating in May, and the whole summer was a blur of music, sunshine, his dog Hendrix and his car. It got cold, I went back to school, and his band mates moved to London. He decided not to, and to stay in Suffolk to go to college. He phoned me the first day he was in London, having not yet made this decision, telling me he missed me. I remember feeling guilty. I couldn't imagine a long-distance relationship, but I didn't want to ask anything from him, as much as I was in love with him. It was at Christmas, when he went to visit his mates in London, and he knew his college course was about to end, that he came to another cross roads. Yet again, he picked Suffolk. This time I knew that it was nothing to do with future plans. He'd saved money, and he had a plan - he just couldn't leave me. I hated knowing that I was the only thing holding him back. Yes it was romantic of him to want to stay, but our year's difference shouldn't mean that his life should be on hold for me. On Boxing Day, on a beach, watching a beautiful sunset in Thorpeness, I broke his heart. And I know it was horrible, but I didn't want to wait to do the inevitable.
We saw each other a few more times after that; maybe three of four. I remember wanting to look at him as long as possible, because I didn't know when or if I'd ever see him again. We went our separate ways, and almost two years later Lucy and I went to see their band in London. It was nice to catch up with the boys of our past again, and it was nice to see that he was alive and happy. Since then he's got a girlfriend, who I try not to stalk on facebook, but sometimes I can't help it. She's so much more perfect for him than I ever was: I try to tell myself that breaking up with him was the best thing I ever did for his life, but I still feel a little bit guilty and selfish, wondering if we'd have worked. Wondering where my life might have taken me. Knowing what moments I experienced after that wouldn't have happened... It's hard to let go of the past. I was single for six months after breaking up with him. That was the last time I was single for any length of time. And during that single time, I did two very stupid things: one of them involved my legs covered in nettle stings, my sister's ring lost in a field, my body exploding in a rash after taking the morning-after pill; and the other involved an event with a friend, which if it had never happened, our relationship might have been very different, and I might not have lost two years with him because of an over-jealous boyfriend.
And so I finished high school. No wonder my a-levels didn't go well.... although I'm thankful they didn't: if they had, I might not have ended up at Solent, and I may not have ever met him...
The Face that Sank My Heart
I had a dream about a man who constantly keeps my brain churning. I'm inspired by him, but I don't know how to use that inspiration productively. It just sits there, eating away at me, making me want to do something massively pro-active, but all I can do is ponder my endless thoughts and beliefs.
This dream re-awakened the inspiration I feel. Again, I don't know what to do with it. It's like a possessive force is working through my mind, making every little thought try to link into some idea I could use. I want to write, I want to write a film for him to be in, or about him, or just write some kind of homage. Problem is, a face isn't enough inspiration to actually form a story. Can I try to write a story based on a man's face? There have been poems and sonnets and short stories and wars dedicated to faces... apparently a face can sink a thousand ships, but for me, it can't bring my mind for form any real idea.
I get itchy feet when I feel like this. I want to suddenly do something massively life-changing, like move to L.A, quit my job and focus solely on writing, confess all my loves and follys, but all I end up doing is doodling, scribbling words and scratching them out, and writing a boring blog about the circling motions of my brain.
Damn you Zac Efron, you make my head hurt.
This dream re-awakened the inspiration I feel. Again, I don't know what to do with it. It's like a possessive force is working through my mind, making every little thought try to link into some idea I could use. I want to write, I want to write a film for him to be in, or about him, or just write some kind of homage. Problem is, a face isn't enough inspiration to actually form a story. Can I try to write a story based on a man's face? There have been poems and sonnets and short stories and wars dedicated to faces... apparently a face can sink a thousand ships, but for me, it can't bring my mind for form any real idea.
I get itchy feet when I feel like this. I want to suddenly do something massively life-changing, like move to L.A, quit my job and focus solely on writing, confess all my loves and follys, but all I end up doing is doodling, scribbling words and scratching them out, and writing a boring blog about the circling motions of my brain.
Damn you Zac Efron, you make my head hurt.
Is it okay to be afraid of hope?
A side note should be added here: you can never convince someone to love you. It is something that happens with time, and as much as I felt like everything was perfect the first time, it wasn't. He wasn't. It took another nineteen months after he broke my heart for us to find each other again, for our friendship to grow, and for this amazing thing to bloom. And I will get to that story when I get there: but first, after the first guy I ever allowed myself to truly trust broke up with me via text during my art mock, I went back to the drawing board.
Being fifteen was bizarre. I used to befriend people who I spoke to on the internet. At one point in my life some of the people I spoke to most outside of school were people I'd never, or barely, met. These people have come and gone mainly, one has stuck around, although I'm not entirely sure why, and I sometimes wish that friendship could still be that simple. Just logging in, typing until the small hours of the morning, and logging out, and it could be hours or weeks until you'd chat again, but it didn't matter that much.
I remember the first time I ever got into texting a boy, and I was not very sneaky with my phone, as it was huge and not easily hidden under my text book. Luckily it was only confiscated once. And so, my msn friend list grew larger, and then MySpace happened, and eventually Facebook happened too. But first, there was MSN. I still sign in occasionally just to look at the girl I used to be. It's pretty funny.
Anyway, after a few two week relationships which I can barely remember now, I met a Barnaby: he liked me, and we did some rather funny things together. We went on a date, our first official date, on his sixteenth birthday. That night we had sex in an alley. Very weird, and I wouldn't advise anyone else try it. Especially when only sixteen. We used to hang out a lot as a group of friends, and be quite inappropriate in front of people. Once, he proudly showed Ross and Sam the lump in his trousers. They were not amused. Pretty sure Sam was scarred for life. The time we spent together was good and fun, and then something weird happened. Jack. I met a guy who went against all my rules. He was good looking and charming, yet quiet and reserved, nervous and shy, and musically brilliant and sexy because of it. He was literally everything. I kept spending time with him accidentally, and I knew I wanted him, but I didn't want to lose Barnaby. I can't remember breaking up with him, but I did.
Then it was magical: I'd sacrificed this amazing guy for someone more amazing, and more than anything I could have dreamed. He even had muscles. I'd never been with a guy with muscles before. It was very exciting. About three weeks, maybe five, I can't remember, of good times ended suddenly. One Saturday morning I knew as soon as I stood on the bus and saw Charlotte and Ed chatting quietly alone that something had happened. Charlotte told me later that day that my perfect guy had kissed a girl last night in Southwold. I was crushed: I thought he was different from the others. I thought I'd finally found the perfect guy - turns out he just wasn't perfect for me. After that Barn and I became friends again, then got back together for another two months, and eventually it all fell to pieces when a friend stuck her nose into our relationship. This I should have learned from - never date a guy you've already broken up with. It would have saved me so much hassle later on in life. But alas, the only thing I learned from all this is that the grass isn't always greener on the other side. My heart told me to do certain things, and I knew that even if my heart wanted one day of happiness, it could lead to so much destruction, that it wasn't always worth it. Poignant that I learned that at age sixteen, yet repeated it almost perfectly four years later.
Some lessons in life you have to learn twice, or even three times, and even then you might break your own rules one day because you think the grass finally is greener, and that perfect person has finally found you. But that's a story for another day.
Being fifteen was bizarre. I used to befriend people who I spoke to on the internet. At one point in my life some of the people I spoke to most outside of school were people I'd never, or barely, met. These people have come and gone mainly, one has stuck around, although I'm not entirely sure why, and I sometimes wish that friendship could still be that simple. Just logging in, typing until the small hours of the morning, and logging out, and it could be hours or weeks until you'd chat again, but it didn't matter that much.
I remember the first time I ever got into texting a boy, and I was not very sneaky with my phone, as it was huge and not easily hidden under my text book. Luckily it was only confiscated once. And so, my msn friend list grew larger, and then MySpace happened, and eventually Facebook happened too. But first, there was MSN. I still sign in occasionally just to look at the girl I used to be. It's pretty funny.
Anyway, after a few two week relationships which I can barely remember now, I met a Barnaby: he liked me, and we did some rather funny things together. We went on a date, our first official date, on his sixteenth birthday. That night we had sex in an alley. Very weird, and I wouldn't advise anyone else try it. Especially when only sixteen. We used to hang out a lot as a group of friends, and be quite inappropriate in front of people. Once, he proudly showed Ross and Sam the lump in his trousers. They were not amused. Pretty sure Sam was scarred for life. The time we spent together was good and fun, and then something weird happened. Jack. I met a guy who went against all my rules. He was good looking and charming, yet quiet and reserved, nervous and shy, and musically brilliant and sexy because of it. He was literally everything. I kept spending time with him accidentally, and I knew I wanted him, but I didn't want to lose Barnaby. I can't remember breaking up with him, but I did.
Then it was magical: I'd sacrificed this amazing guy for someone more amazing, and more than anything I could have dreamed. He even had muscles. I'd never been with a guy with muscles before. It was very exciting. About three weeks, maybe five, I can't remember, of good times ended suddenly. One Saturday morning I knew as soon as I stood on the bus and saw Charlotte and Ed chatting quietly alone that something had happened. Charlotte told me later that day that my perfect guy had kissed a girl last night in Southwold. I was crushed: I thought he was different from the others. I thought I'd finally found the perfect guy - turns out he just wasn't perfect for me. After that Barn and I became friends again, then got back together for another two months, and eventually it all fell to pieces when a friend stuck her nose into our relationship. This I should have learned from - never date a guy you've already broken up with. It would have saved me so much hassle later on in life. But alas, the only thing I learned from all this is that the grass isn't always greener on the other side. My heart told me to do certain things, and I knew that even if my heart wanted one day of happiness, it could lead to so much destruction, that it wasn't always worth it. Poignant that I learned that at age sixteen, yet repeated it almost perfectly four years later.
Some lessons in life you have to learn twice, or even three times, and even then you might break your own rules one day because you think the grass finally is greener, and that perfect person has finally found you. But that's a story for another day.
I'm afraid of what I will discover inside.
Next on the list of regrets of the heart, we skip forward to 2005. I was young and totally oblivious to the variety of ways a boy can cause you pain. I admit that when I look back to these times, I don't recognise myself. All I see is a young naive girl; a person who prioritized everything in the wrong order, with boys before friends, and school and parents right at the bottom. She never wanted to think about the future, specifically about how her actions in the present time might affect the future, but this did give her a blinding ability to enjoy that moment as she lived it so much more than anyone else. The rosy glow to the memories of Beccles Carnival, of Kier's parties, and all the antics of that first summer blur into a haze of drinking vodka and orange juice, listening to music, sitting on sofas all day doing very little, and an insanely large amount of gossip.
The crux of this story however falls on the heads of two boys. Both have no idea how their actions have affected me, but I guess I prefer it that way. If they knew, it wouldn't do anything to help me, and their guilt, if that's what they felt, would make me feel worse.
Thomson. I liked him, and I didn't look at anyone else. He did, but I didn't notice. In fact, I'm lead to believe that two nights after he was with me, he was with one of my best friends, now my wife. Everyone knows the story. I don't like remembering it, yet I'm forced to on so many occasions. Up until that night he'd been nice, in a "share my bottle of vodka" way, and he'd been funny and sexy and all kinds of dangerous things that I'd never known before. And in one night he ruined my illusion of the 'perfect bad boy' by just being... a boy. The only thing he thought with was his dick. When confronted, he denied everything, and I don't blame him, but it's given me this weight of incredibility when this story is told. One of my 'friends' once accused me of making it up. Why on Earth would someone, no matter how attention seeking they might be, make up a story like that?
His actions, and then his denial, lead me to grow weary of anyone who could charm the skirt off me. However, Smithy did the exact same thing.
Sat in Wife's living room, he had budged closer and closer to me on the sofa, and finally made his 'move' by putting his hand on my knee and slowly moving it up my leg, and when I never protested, well... you can imagine how that might have developed. I knew that in the morning he'd go home, and next time I saw him we'd be back to the casual small talk and the random conversations about what he should do with all his money. But still, I wanted it, and I wanted him, because I knew that night was a unique one, and if I was to take the great advise of Iggy Pollock and "grab life by the balls", I needed to start here and now, when there were no consequences. I can't even remember the next time I saw Smithy after that night, but I was totally correct in all my assumptions. Luckily, I wasn't too committed, so my heart didn't feel a thing.
I must admit that these two boys were the first people I ever experienced anything so highly charged with. I can remember at least five nights which I spent with Thomson, and just the one with Smithy, and after that I changed. I saw boys slightly differently. Instead of first seeing looks and charm, and then seeing the corrupt and shallow personality underneath, I started looking first at the personality. One day we were at a gig, Self Titled were on stage, and my cousin was chatting to the bassist in his band. I looked around the room, and noticed how this guy I had never spoken to before seemed to draw me in. Something about his awkward posture, his baggy t-shirt and little glasses, his face covered in hair and his smile as he chatted with Luke made me know that he was better than the others. He had a good soul, and I could see it shining at me, and as my friends swooned over the lead singers from both the bands, and the guitarists with all their cockiness and swagger, I knew that I was looking at someone truly unique: no imitations of someone, no hopes at being compared to the big rock stars; just a simple guy who looked over at me and made my throat dry in a crowded sweaty room.
The crux of this story however falls on the heads of two boys. Both have no idea how their actions have affected me, but I guess I prefer it that way. If they knew, it wouldn't do anything to help me, and their guilt, if that's what they felt, would make me feel worse.
Thomson. I liked him, and I didn't look at anyone else. He did, but I didn't notice. In fact, I'm lead to believe that two nights after he was with me, he was with one of my best friends, now my wife. Everyone knows the story. I don't like remembering it, yet I'm forced to on so many occasions. Up until that night he'd been nice, in a "share my bottle of vodka" way, and he'd been funny and sexy and all kinds of dangerous things that I'd never known before. And in one night he ruined my illusion of the 'perfect bad boy' by just being... a boy. The only thing he thought with was his dick. When confronted, he denied everything, and I don't blame him, but it's given me this weight of incredibility when this story is told. One of my 'friends' once accused me of making it up. Why on Earth would someone, no matter how attention seeking they might be, make up a story like that?
His actions, and then his denial, lead me to grow weary of anyone who could charm the skirt off me. However, Smithy did the exact same thing.
Sat in Wife's living room, he had budged closer and closer to me on the sofa, and finally made his 'move' by putting his hand on my knee and slowly moving it up my leg, and when I never protested, well... you can imagine how that might have developed. I knew that in the morning he'd go home, and next time I saw him we'd be back to the casual small talk and the random conversations about what he should do with all his money. But still, I wanted it, and I wanted him, because I knew that night was a unique one, and if I was to take the great advise of Iggy Pollock and "grab life by the balls", I needed to start here and now, when there were no consequences. I can't even remember the next time I saw Smithy after that night, but I was totally correct in all my assumptions. Luckily, I wasn't too committed, so my heart didn't feel a thing.
I must admit that these two boys were the first people I ever experienced anything so highly charged with. I can remember at least five nights which I spent with Thomson, and just the one with Smithy, and after that I changed. I saw boys slightly differently. Instead of first seeing looks and charm, and then seeing the corrupt and shallow personality underneath, I started looking first at the personality. One day we were at a gig, Self Titled were on stage, and my cousin was chatting to the bassist in his band. I looked around the room, and noticed how this guy I had never spoken to before seemed to draw me in. Something about his awkward posture, his baggy t-shirt and little glasses, his face covered in hair and his smile as he chatted with Luke made me know that he was better than the others. He had a good soul, and I could see it shining at me, and as my friends swooned over the lead singers from both the bands, and the guitarists with all their cockiness and swagger, I knew that I was looking at someone truly unique: no imitations of someone, no hopes at being compared to the big rock stars; just a simple guy who looked over at me and made my throat dry in a crowded sweaty room.
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