My Mumbling Thoughts

The past couple of weeks have been pretty surreal for me. It's like nothing even happened, yet I'm sitting at home with evidence that yes, it all very much did happen and I had a rockin' good time. I have three bracelets on my right wrist that I still refuse to take off, simply because they are the wrist bands that I needed to have to get me into the Dot to Dot festival that was in Bristol, my final third year summer ball and the epic final bop where a lot of ugly crying went down.

I know it's silly, but I just can't bring myself to cut them off and stow them away in one of the many memory shoe boxes underneath my bed. Not yet.

After Mel and I finally made it back home, I spent the first couple of days cleaning, unpacking, organizing and sorting things out so that I was properly all settled in. It gave me something to do and I thought that unpacking everything and meshing it all together with my other things that have patiently been waiting for me here at home would finally switch something on in my head to make me realize that I'm back for the long haul. This is not simply a summer vacation break for me. I'm here now. I'm back now. And I don't exactly have a plan of where I need/should be going.

That didn't really work and instead I was just pleased that everything wasn't in shambles anymore.

Once all the cleaning and organizing was finished, I parked myself in my room for the next couple of days and caught up on all of the latest Hills episodes. Nothing really says "move on" and is semi-relatable to people in their twenties (with millions of dollars at their disposal) quite like The Hills. I mean, Lauren is moving on, Whitney moved on to New York and Lo....well, Lo is just there to look cute and adorable.

I hate to admit this, because it is kind of embarrassing, but I did get a little teary-eyed at one of the episodes where Audrina and Lauren make up and become friends again. That was touching.

But I didn't have a full on ugly cry like I know I need to do.

Once I caught up on all of The Hills, I went over to Mendy's house that I've hardly seen since I've been away, for some birthday festivities at her new apartment with her husband (as if I have a real married friend now). She had invited loads of friends and family over to celebrate, and as happy as I was to see her and catch up, I wasn't exactly in a very group social mood. It was all a bit too much for me to handle so I decided to leave around 11 o'clock and drive back home listening to Camera Obscura in the dark driving the empty roads.

Her one song, "Country Mile," made me get a little misty-eyed but nothing else. I told myself I couldn't have the ugly cry in the car when I was tired and driving. It simply wasn't safe.

Since then I've pretty much been doing nothing. I've been catching up on a lot of sleep, yet I still wake up around six o'clock in the morning and wonder what I'm going to be doing for the next sixteen hours. I've been reading more, which is nice, and catching up on books that I never read/finished reading while I was at uni. I've gone out to run a few errands for Momma and have eaten out at a few of my favorite places.

But otherwise, not much else.

You would think that now I have the time, I'd be thinking more. I should be thinking more about reality and the future and what I should/could/need to be doing in order to take the next steps towards the next life chapter and all that crap. But I haven't really. I'm in a strange haze where I just wander around aimlessly without any kind of attachment as to what's happening around me. I daydream a lot. I fantasize about my pretend future that I know will never happen, yet I still like to roll around in my sick hallucinations. I have looked at so many pictures on facebook from the last weeks of university so many times I'm surprised Bridget hasn't blown up. And I relive my last memories of a life that I've known and have gotten used to, but now that I've left.

When I was still in London, caught up in the busy social events or sitting out on Digby lawn soaking up the rare English rays, I told myself that I wouldn't let myself feel too much of the sadness because I wanted to enjoy my last weeks to the fullest instead of sitting in a puddle of tears and snot from all of my crying. I wanted my last memories to be happy, with all of us laughing and being completely in the moment knowing that we might never get a chance to be like this ever again. Absolutely carefree without one worry in the world. There was no point in dwelling on what was coming when it was out of our control. So every time I felt tears welling up in my eyes, I immediately thought of something else and shoved it aside.

I love how we didn't really acknowledge fully the situation that was at hand. Whenever somebody left, we just treated it like we would see them in a few weeks time. I gave them all a hug and kiss on the cheek and told them I loved them as they walked out the door. I don't think it felt real to any of us. It still doesn't feel real to me.

I know eventually I'm going to need to accept the fact that I am back in Virginia and I won't be leaving anytime soon. I know in time I'm going to have to mentally leave London, rejoin reality and get back on board here so I can start doing adult things once again. Even though I've come back home, it doesn't feel as natural as it did whenever I was back at Christmas or summer. I feel like I've come back changed and everything here is the same as I left it.

But for the time being I want to sit a little while longer. Like I said, I'm not ready to cut the wrist bands off just yet.

Posted by Sam at 09:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)
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As of today, I only have twenty-four days left here in London. Until when? Until I don't know. I don't know when I'll be coming back, because I won't be living here anymore. I'll be back in Virginia, rocking out there and trying to set my life back up to be more routine and regular. Whatever that is.

I decided that I wanted to go back home early and skip over the whole graduation mess. What's the point in going when I couldn't really afford it, Momma wouldn't be there and I can't stand all of that hoopla shit. It gets on my nerves. Instead I wanted to rock out hard the last couple of weeks that I was here and end my university life not in a cap and gown, but rather how I started off: in a bar. My bar.

There wasn't really much point in my sticking around then, if I didn't want go to graduation. I suppose I could have hung around and did the odd jobs every so often to keep me afloat, but I didn't want to struggle until the end of July, which is probably what would have happened if I had decided to stay.

So June 10th, 2009. That's the date. That's when I'll be getting on a plane headed for Virginia and that's where I'll be staying, because university is finished. Done. Kaput. Over. No more.

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Now what am I supposed to do?

As if I'm all finished with university. As if I actually did what I said I was going to do nearly five years ago. As if all of this really happened.

It's kind of a big moment for me. I'm a little lost for words. I'm a lot dumbstruck. And I'm not entirely sure what's next for me.

So far the only plan I have is to go back home, get a job and start paying off these scary student loans I've managed to rack up. I kind of already have a job waiting for me. Momma managed to hook me up with another admin position at the new place she's working at. Yeah, back to the admin scene, doing the admin thing. That will just be temporary, though, until I can figure out what I really want to do, and where I really want to be.

Since leaving the Corporate World, I've seen what else I can do in life. I am perfectly capable of making a real life for myself doing what I love: writing. I didn't get this degree for the hell of it. I do plan to use it in the future and see where it eventually takes me. I definitely do not want to be someone's little admin bitch until I die. I'll find something - a magazine, newspaper, publishing house - and I'll apply to work there and be their bitch until I can work my way up to where I want to be. I could continue to work on the novel I started here a couple of months ago (I definitely want to work on that, but it has been put on a big PAUSE until I can sort my brain out and tackle that beast). I could work for an online magazine or be a freelance writer picking up odd jobs wherever I find them.

Whatever I want to do, I can do it. Because if I can manage to get myself over to London for three years, then I can sure as hell do whatever else I want. And nobody will stop me.

But those are thoughts and ideas I've barely even given much thought to because it makes my head feel like it'll explode all over the white walls of my room here at uni. I'll give them all much serious thought after I've gone home, cried for two weeks and allowed myself to wallow in the fact that I left my life here in London and must start again in Virginia. Because that's what it feels like.

All of my friends are here. My stuff is here that I've been accumulating over three years. My buses are here. My favorite foods and restaurants are here. My stores/markets/shops are here. My life is here. My heart is here. I know London and I haven't always seen eye to eye on some things, but I do love it. And I'm going to miss it and everything that it will be holding for me while I'm away. I'm trying to be an adult about the whole situation and realize that I do need to go back home, if only for a little bit so I can sort myself out. I'm a mess in London at the moment and I need a seriously long break out of the city to clear my head, adjust my perspective and get out of this student mindset. But it's hard to be an adult and accept the fact that I won't be here for a while. Instead I revert back to the only way I know how to deal with things and cry like a fool after one too many alcoholic beverages. I know it leads me nowhere in the end, but that temporary numbness sure is nice to help me forget the reality that will be smacking me in the face soon.

I'll deal with the loss after I get back home. I'll sort myself out and then think of a new way to come back over here and live. Because while I know I need a break right now, and even though it's one of the most painful things I've done, I also know I'm not finished with London. And London isn't finished with me yet either. My love/hate relationship with this city has only just begun and one way or another, I'll be back more refreshed and ready to take it all on again.

Posted by Sam at 10:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)
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Ugh, life is long, life is so bloody long.

But whatever. Who cares? BECAUSE I'M FINISHED WITH ALL OF MY UNIVERSITY WORK.

I think I've damaged my right thumb in the process of work, though, because now I hate to type anything. I use only my right thumb to hit the spacebar and now it actually makes me cringe to think about doing the action like nails on a chalkboard. I was hoping it was just a phase, but no, I actually hate doing it. It should be interesting to see how that pans out for me in the future.

Since my uni work has finished, I've been spending a lot of time spending a lot of money. Too much of it, in fact, but it's okay because I deserve to splash out every so often. I haven't properly spent any money on myself in so long (that wasn't food), I almost forgot what to do when I was in all of the different shops.

Almost. I quickly regained my feet and went to town enjoying some much needed retail therapy.

But aside from shopping like a demon, I've also been going out, drinking, doing a bit of traveling and embracing this newfound work-free zone that I've stepped into. I remember being confused and unsure as to what to do right after I handed in my last portfolio. I was in the flat and things appeared to be the same, only it was much different now that I wasn't chained inside of my room. I could go outside if I wanted to. I could watch some TV completely guilt free. Hell, I could have a lie-in until 9a.m. and not stress that I just wasted two and a half hours of prime writing time.

Now I'm perfectly fine and happy to wake up when I want to, and things appear to just keep happening without me having to worry about being too bored without any work to keep me occupied. My social life is being resurrected and it's about damn time.

Last Friday, after I got finished dropping some serious cash in Kingston, I got a text from my friend Ando. He has been trying for ages to get me to come visit him back in his hometown, but I've never gone because I was either too poor or....well, mostly just because I was too poor. But considering I had just gotten paid from working at The Shop over Easter break and I was now free from all university work EVER, I decided I would go and pay him a visit.

I quickly got ready, threw some essential items in an overnight bag and caught the train to make the very long journey two hours outside of the city to a small town called Farnham. He met me at the train station and then we walked to his house so I could drop my stuff off before we headed to the pub where he works at. Everything, I learned, was within walking distance of his house, which made things so nice and easy. And his house was actually amazing. I don't know why I was so shocked and surprised to see that his house was awesome, but for four guys living together, it was pretty bitchin'.

When we got to the pub, all of his friends were there, some crazy regulars who were blatantly coked out their face and then there was me, taking all of these new sights in. It felt cozy. It felt comfortable. It felt nice to not be in the city with strangers. Even though I didn't know Ando's friends, I felt like I could get to know them and be included in this group that was so close knit it made me want to make a good impression so that they would like me as well.

I did get to know them. I had fabulous conversations and wasn't attached to Ando's side all night like I thought I would be. Apparently I was a big hit and everyone loved me. One of his friends even said to Ando that he "loved me and she is fucking cool."

"Yeah, I know she's pretty awesome," was all that Ando said and smiled at me.

I had an amazing night. I had an entire bottle of rosé to myself. I accidentally had sex with Ando for a second time. And I woke up wondering if this was a new routine we were getting ourselves into.

He had to work the next day and left me in bed after his three different alarms went off seven hundred times. I heard someone come into his room at one point and I laid still with my eyes shut hoping they wouldn't notice me there, even though I'm sure all of his friends knew. Sometime around ten in the morning, I received a text message from Ando asking how I was getting on and to help myself to the cereal downstairs.

So I finally emerged out from under the covers, stretched and clicked all of my limbs and braced myself to face all of his friends sober downstairs who I could hear laughing and walking around. It would be fine. They all seemed like nice people when I met them last night, and I was sure they'd all still be the same nice people the morning after.

They were. They were hilarious and lovely and nothing was awkward. What was this magical place that I had landed in? Why didn't this kind of surrounding exist in London? Or anywhere else in the world for that matter!

I had a cup of tea and sat with Ando's friend, Alex, who chatted with me for at least an hour while I curled up on one side of their sofa still wearing my make-up from the night before. It was then that I decided I fancied Alex and wished that I wasn't leaving so soon. Why did I have to meet him now? How come I couldn't have met him months or even years ago? That would be my luck.

After I showered and got ready, Alex invited me to go to the pub with him. I declined, however, and decided that I wanted to have a wander around Farnham. How small was this place? Did they even have a bank? Because I needed some money and some lunch.

It turns out that they weren't lying when they said you could walk anywhere and reach anything. From Ando's house, it took me about ten minutes to walk into town. I found a cash machine (after asking for directions), bought some lunch and a magazine, then walked to a local park that I saw near the pub and sat there for about two hours as the sun dodged in and out of the clouds. It was a lovely afternoon and great way to cure my hang over.

I got some more text messages from Ando, though, asking if I was going to stay another night. I said that I didn't mind, but that it was up to him. He then gave me a couple excuses about how he had to work late at the bar, get up early again for work the next day, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stay and chat with me. I could take a hint. I got the underlying message. He didn't want me to be there anymore, and I didn't want to see him after he got off of work.

I walked to his pub, found Alex and asked if I could borrow his house keys so I could peace out and head back home. He seemed a little sad that I was going and I thought it was heartbreakingly cute when he said, "oh, well, I guess I won't ever see you again."

"Don't worry, I'll come back for a visit," I said to him, even though I was pretty sure I'd never step foot in that magical place again.

Just because I'd probably never go to Farnham and see Ando again, it didn't stop me from adding Alex on facebook. Or sending him a message with my phone number, letting him know that if he's in London anytime before June 10th that he should ring me sometime, and we could hang out. Or something.

He replied to my message saying thanks for the nice message, and that he couldn't have left me locked away in Ando's room all day. It gave me a little bit of hope that maybe I would see him again before I leave. Hopefully.

Posted by Sam at 11:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)
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*I kind of geek out about iMovie and Apple in this post, so if you don't care about Macs, you probably won't care about this particular post.*

I have lots of spare time.

THIS IS A GOOD THING.

Actually, it's a great thing, because I was originally stressing that I wouldn't have enough time to do my final two portfolios (you know, over the whole three week Easter break), but it turns out I've managed my time pretty well and I have extra spare time leftover to do things like EDIT and WRITE BLOG POSTS.

Who knew.

I woke up this morning to grey clouds and a bit of rain which made me sad since for the past week we've had nothing but brilliant sunshine and blue skies. Some folks already broke out the disposable grills from Asda and had a barbecue yesterday out on the lawn. It was torture to smell that amazing beef being grilled in my room while I was video recording one of my projects, but it was nice to know that we even had weather that would permit some people to use a disposable grill.

Now, however, it seems like the sun has overtaken the rain once more and outside my window are brilliant blues, greens and...umm....brown? The brown building is our library. Not a great view for me, but whatevs. At least I can see the gorgeous weather.

In other news, I went to the Mac Store on Regent Street on Thursday. I also went on Sunday but wasn't able to geek out completely since I was with Livvi and her boyfriend. They're (sadly) still Windows users so they didn't feel as comfortable or right at home as I do whenever I get near any kind of Mac appliance. I tend to develop a slight twitch because I'm so excited. It's like I'm getting a fresh dose of crack and I start to spaz out.

This Thursday, though, I went to the store at 10 o'fuck in the morning. That might not sound early, but when you're me who has to wake up at 7a.m. (early for my slacker self these days) and then travel at least an hour to get there, it's a lot of effort.

So why did I need to go to the Mac Store so early?

WELL, because for one of my final portfolios, I decided to take a vlog style approach to it, and I wanted to know all most of the tricks that I could do in iMovie. I couldn't be bothered to write a 3500 word short story and though it'd be more fun and "innovative" (since it is for my Fiction and Innovative Form lecture) if I recorded it all. Then I told my lecturer that I was recording it based on death of the author and hypertext. She loved the idea. Ate it up. And I got to do an extended vlog for my final project.

So that's why I was at the Mac Store in the wee early hours. Okay, not wee early hours, but whatever.

I sat there for TWO HOURS while some guy named Darren and his trusty assistant, Kate, told the four of us studious learners how to add text to our movies, how to change the color of our movies or how to add different sound effects or music to our movies. It was all very informative and helpful and made me wish that I had enough money to shell out on a new laptop with iMovie 09 on it.

Oh, I know, I have my darling Bridget, and I love her, but she is getting up there in age (nearly four years now!) and she doesn't work as well as she once did.

That's a lie, she works fine, but there are a couple of things that don't really work and it kind of annoys me about her.

Take for instance the iMovie that I have on Bridget. One of the options that I should be able to use is to record directly onto my hard drive using the iSight (the little wee built in webcam, for people who don't know what an iSight is). When I go into iMovie, I load up the iSight, click record, start talking and whatnot, but when I play it back the sound is completely jacked and I sound like a bunch of bees flying around. I don't know why it doesn't work and it annoys me too much to try and figure it out.

So because I can't even use the iSight in my iMovie, I have to rent out a video camera from our library so that I can do my vlogs and such, but for some reason Bridget never recognizes the camera properly whenever I plug it in so that I can load my movies up. She opens up iPhoto instead of iMovie and leaves me royally ticked off.

It's little things like that that really peeve me and get under my skin about her.

I can't really complain, though. She has been pretty bitchin' ever since I got her and has taken care of me many a-nights and days whenever I was stressing about an essay or just plain bored out of my skull. The only real problem I've ever had was when she scared the hell out of me and crashed out, but that was taken care of and luckily I had most of my information backed up on my external hard drive, Carrie.

Because Bridget is on the verge of being taken to a retirement home, I've decided to use one of my fresher's MacBooks to do all of video editing on today. Emma's MacBook, Pip, is a bit newer, a bit shinier, a bit more sprightly than 'ol Bridget and has no problem recording my voice using iSight and recognizes the video camera in iMovie, not iPhoto and tends to run a little bit more smooth. Pip doesn't need to rub Deep Heat on her joints to keep going. Pip just goes and does her thang.

That's what I'm going to be doing all day then. Sitting in my room, recording footage, editing footage and then hopefully burning the footage onto a DVD so that I can hand the bastard in with my essay that I've ALREADY WRITTEN. I didn't know how good it would feel to have an essay written six days before it's due in, but I tell ya, it feels good. I kind of want to do a jig.

And with all of this spare time I have, and since I'll be mainly working on Pip today, I might even put up a new vlog. Who knows! I guess you'll just have to wait and see.

I know. I can hardly stand the anticipation as well.

Posted by Sam at 10:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)
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There are two things in this world that I am religiously obsessed with: music and tanning. Sometimes when it's nice out (actually, especially when it's nice out) I like to listen to my music while I tan. I know. It's crazy!

London is waking up, the sun is shining and where am I?

Stuck inside doing the last bit of my uni work. That's where I am. Or here, typing up this post avoiding uni work.

All of it will be handed in by the end of next Thursday. Then I'll officially have no more work and can spend as much time outside that I want laying in the sun, soaking up the rays and proving everyone wrong who thinks I can't tan underneath the English sun. I've done it before! I'll do it again!

But, ugh....this whole Sitting Inside business when my window is open, the curtain is pulled back and there's a pool of sunshine warming me up, is so damn distracting! Especially when I know I could be outside right now feeling that slight tingle on my skin. That's what I want. That's what I need. It's what I'm craving right now.

Sometimes I'm bad and lay outside anyway making myself think that I'm going to hand write all of my work and then type it up later. Ha! What a load of bollocks. As if I'm really going to be focused when my eyes are closed and I'm on the verge of falling asleep on the lawn. I DON'T THINK SO. Or when I decide to go out for lunch with some of the babies and Helen (like I did yesterday).

I CAN'T STAND THIS TORTURE.

I am a sun-loving, beach babe at heart and all I want to do is walk around in a summer dress, sip on a pint of Pimm's (hello Pimm's o'clock!), fire up the grill and live outside until it's time to come inside and look at everyone's funny tan lines. I don't want to plan chapter three. I don't want to write two essays. I don't want to do a fictional vlog on dating. Someone else do it for me!

In other non-weather related news, I unfortunately didn't get the job at the music college that would have been SO PERFECT for me. Tabitha rang me up yesterday afternoon as I began the digesting process of a massive burger from GBK, and told me that they "went in a different direction" for someone who was "more qualified".

Blah, whatever. I'm sure another job will come rolling around soon and I'll do just as fine at that. I suppose until I do hear from her I can spend my days out on the lawn. You know, after I do my stupid work. And Chris said that I could always go back to working at the shop if I'm really desperate, which I do believe I'm on the verge of.

Oh, what am I even doing on here?! I need to be planning out my work and essays!

Posted by Sam at 07:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)
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Can someone please tell me why those random homeless people (well, I don't know if they're really homeless) that stand on the high street sidewalks selling those obscure magazines that nobody's ever heard of, always have a rottweiler dog tied up next to them?

I was just wondering that while I was out today.

This has been a successful Thursday, which is nice considering I had a lovely Wednesday yesterday. I don't know if y'all already know this or not, but Wednesday is my favorite day of the week. Really. I love Wednesdays. All good things generally happen for me on Wednesdays and yesterday was no exception to the rule.

It was Jon's 21st birthday and I was going to see Helen for the first time since....well....she was last in London for a visit (Christmas?). Our plans were to go into Kingston, eat an amazing jacket potato from Spuds, then drink. What could be more fun than that?

Nothing is more fun than that, I'll tell you now.

For the past three years I've noticed something about the Easter holiday break. It is always around this time that London transforms and becomes even more lush, green and lovely. Now some people may call this time of year "spring" but whatever. I notice the transformation every single time and am amazed every single time when the trees become full once again with leaves and baby birds. Our clocks rotate forward one hour allowing the sun to stick with us for a little longer while we linger down by the river with fresh fruit in our pints of Pimm's in plastic cups.

(Is it just me or does the above sentence have a lot of alliteration?)

Wednesday, my favorite day of the week, was a nice reminder of what I love most about being here. Jon, Trish and myself met Helen in front of Primark at three o'clock and I think overwhelmed her with our enormous presence. I don't think she was expecting such a welcoming in Kingston, but alas! There we all were sharing hugs, poking boobs (as Helen likes to do to greet her friends) and immediately kicking off the banter that our group has. We ate, we made dirty jokes, we laughed and we all caught each other up with the latest gossip that has been happening in our lives. And boy, was there gossip (which I'm obviously not at liberty to discuss since I've been sworn to secrecy. Just know that blood was involved).

After we filled our bellies with the best jacket potatoes in town, we headed straight to the Slug 'n' Lettuce to get cracking on with the drinkin'. You can't celebrate someone's 21st birthday without involving drinks. Helen and I bought our Pimm's while Trish opted for her usual lager and Jon stayed sweet with a mojito. We sat at one of the tables outside in the sunshine and talked about the past, present and future and laughed about what was, what is and what will inevitably be. That was us, four friends having a laugh.

And goddamn did I laugh.

We decided to get a bottle of white wine and rosé as well, and while we were quickly draining those two bottles I received a call from my favorite recruiter, Tabitha. She asked me (as she always does) if I was free to work, which I told her I was, and she then continued to tell me about a position that has become available working at a music college earning £9 an hour (!). I would have an interview on Monday at eleven o'clock in the morning and if I was successful (cross fingers!) then I could start the following week. It is a three month contract and I'd just be doing regular administrative assistance things that I always do.

I spoke to Tabitha briefly, hung up the phone and took another sip of wine. Nothing could really get better.

Except of course stopping into a shoe store drunk, before getting on the bus so that Jon could buy a new pair of trainers. And dancing to the shop music. And singing along.

That was definitely icing on the birthday cake.

It was a brilliant Wednesday and made me a little nostalgic to go back in time, if only for a little while, and relive the happy moments, the funny moments, the time we all spent together in the sunshine. I remembered our skin glowing as the sun would set, laying comfortably out on the lawn with our arms over our faces to shield our eyes from the English rays. We consumed mass amounts of Pimm's, Magners and beer while listening to songs that would shape our memories and remind us later of a time when things weren't dramatic and stressful, but more carefree and loving.

I only realized yesterday (after I sobered up a little bit) that this would be the last time for me to live so carefree. At least for a while. I realized that now I'm on a countdown until my time's up and I head back home. I was a little sad but I know it'll be fine. I'll always have the vivid colors in my mind of the green leaves, the thick grass, the vibrant flowers, the glossy stones. I'll still be able to smell the disposable barbecue grills dying down, the second hand smoke from people's rollies, the thick air in the city and the undefinable smell of Lee House that you only know about if you've ever lived in Lee House. I'll still have the streets I walked down, the places I danced at, the people I cuddled with and all of the million other memories I've created here with me. All of that I'll be taking back. And I know for a fact there aren't enough suitcases in the world to hold all of my London memories.

So here's to many more Wednesdays.

Posted by Sam at 11:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)
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I was speaking to Gerry the other day when he told me that he wished I updated my blog more (yes, all of my children have my blog address) when I thought to myself, "huh, I wish I updated my blog more too!"

Now I'm not going to make any promises, because I'm shit at keeping them, but I will try my best to update more here on My Mumbling Thoughts. I mean hell, it's not like I'm so busy I don't have any time. Trust me, I have time. Without a job to go to, or any lectures to go to, and being completely alone in the flat, I'm swimming in time. True, there are things I should be doing like my coursework and making time to visit our local hospital (I'm going today dammit), but I prefer to waste my time by watching funny videos on YouTube, or by shaving my legs and putting on my amazing tanning lotion that doesn't leave streaks or turn me orange (seriously, I'm addicted).

Besides, it'll be better for me to do something more constructive with all of this time I have besides watching re-runs of Friends every night on E4.

SO. I never went over to Trilby boi's house in the end. Mostly because I could feel a terrible cold creeping around inside of my body and I couldn't be arsed to go all the way to his house (he never does come over here, the bastard). But also because after I had a conversation with Trish about him, I realized how much of a weird freak he is and was immediately turned off.

I don't want to fuck that weird freak ever again.

Ever.

It's just such a shame, because as I've said before, he was a damn fine lay.

Anyway, while I was not going over to his house and my body was getting progressively worse because of The Plague, I did some thinking and have decided that I am once again going to cut out the peen.

That's right ladies and gents, no more sex for at least two months. I thought that a month would be too short for me this time round and have decided to add on another month and see how I manage. Lent might be over for the rest of the world, but it's just starting for me.

Why then have I decided to cut the peen out once more? Well, it mostly has something to do with what Trilby boi said to me when I was over there last week.

We were sitting on his sofa, the telly was on in the background, we were having a conversation about....something (I never really did listen to him) when he suddenly asked me, "so tell me about that time you were fingered on stage."

The first thing out of my mouth was, "which time?"

Yes, I have been fingered on a public stage not once, not twice, but three times. And there were only two occasions when it was a stranger. The first time was with one of Zoe's friends, so I kind of knew him beforehand.

The time that Trilby boi had heard about was last year when I was running for International Officer in the university's elections. I hardly remember it because I was so drunk, and he was so drunk, and it was so dark. I guess it wasn't that dark though, because Trilby boi's ex-fiance saw me with some guy's hand down the front of my shorts. Then because she's awesome a gossiping bitch, she told Trilby boi and all of their friends.

It was then I realized that I really do have a reputation here at my uni, and it's probably not the greatest one to have.

Now, I don't care about what people have heard about me or what they think of me. I honestly don't. Everyone that doesn't know me personally and judges me solely on my reputation can go fuck themselves. Everyone does crazy/whacky/stupid things when they've been off their tits, so I know better than to think for one second that a person is only their drunk alter egos that come out at the bop, or Fez, or the Grand, or the bar, or anywhere in Putney/Central/Kingston/wherever. Behind my Sharon lies a chilled out Sam that is nice and likes to make large meals for everyone in the flat. And I'm sure behind everyone else's drunk alter egos lies a sober, nice person as well. I hope.

What I do care about is myself. I care about my feelings, my self-esteem and the emotional damage I'm causing my heart every single time I go out, get wasted and hook up with some randomer. I know in the long run it's not good for me. And if you want to break down some of the psychological walls of my destructive drinking, I know it's because I have low self-esteem when it comes to guys and the only gratification I get (and the only gratification I think I deserve) is by having multiple one-night stands with strangers that I can remain emotionally detached from.

Hence why I've decided to cut the peen out for two months.

When I was at Trilby boi's house, I realized that I was there purely for sex. Which is fine, yes, but how long have I been saying that I want something more? He didn't ask any questions about me, he didn't seem interested in me at all as a person, he didn't want to get to know me. Instead he talked about video games, the food in his cupboard and himself. All of which were so boring to me I just wanted to roll over and go to sleep.

I'm sorry, but I am worth more than some weird 24-year-old, World of Warcraft loving, pretentious know-it-all that makes me feel like nothing. I know what I want. I know what I'm looking for. I just need to stop having all of the stupid sex with stupid people get in the way. It might be instant gratification that sustains me for a few days, but after a while it gets me nowhere. I don't want to end up Nowhere. I want to end up Somewhere with Someone that knows that I'm a chilled out person that likes making large meals for people.

Posted by Sam at 08:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)
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