My Mumbling Thoughts

So I know things have been scarce here on My Mumbling Thoughts. Trust me, I've been busy. Life is just continuously busy here in London. It's hard trying to juggle a part-time job, university, life and....wait for it...thinking of topics to write for the uni newspaper! I know. It's not a mental year for me (*knocks wood*). Well, not as mental as last year. Obviously things are going to be crazy, because that's just how things seem to roll here, but I have been keeping myself out of trouble for the most part.

And while I haven't really got the time to post anything new, I do have the article handy that I wrote which is going to be published in next month's issue, just for your reading pleasure. I know. It's just a little thing, nothing special, but I thought I'd post it up here just because I feel like it and I've been feeling guilty for not being a good, regular blogger. Hope you enjoy my little bit.

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English Lessons

Okay, so we all know that many moons ago some folks decided to hop on a giant ship and live in a new land far, far away so they could practice their religion freely and get away from the great monarchy of England. It was great, for the most part and now, hundreds of years later, we’ve got a great country called the United States of America. It’s pretty cool, and of course I would say that being one of the many children that was born and raised there.

I’m a second year international student that has jumped in headfirst and studies here at the great university of Roehampton. I’m dong a full three-year course, rather than just a semester or a year. A lot of people ask why I chose to live here in London? Why not just stay at home and enjoy all of the nice comforts that America has to offer (i.e. food, super sizing of the food, twenty-four hour stores and drive-thru’s for virtually everything).

It’s simple, really. When I go somewhere, I want to get the full experience. I like to get my hands dirty and sink into my new life like a native. I don’t want to be an outsider looking in. No Sir. I want to be considered one of the locals that tourists stop on the street to ask for directions on how to get from Piccadilly to Trafalgar Square. London (and England as a whole, really) is quite big and I’m just one tiny person. There’s way too much to see and do, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to cram everything into just a few short months.

You would think that being American wouldn’t be that different for us living in England. I mean we are basically an extension of England minus a few things here and there. What I didn’t realize when I first arrived a little over a year ago is that it’s two totally different worlds. There are the more obvious differences that I noticed immediately, mostly with how much smaller and compact things are. The roads are a lot more narrow and there were a couple of times when I thought surely, by now we should have been in a fender bender with another vehicle. The accents threw me off a lot more than I thought they would as well and I had to ask a lot of people to repeat what they had said to me for the first couple of weeks. Everything was completely different and I certainly had a “we’re not in Kansas anymore” moment on quite a few occasions.

The one thing that slowly crept up on me though was my own internal change. After a while, people began to point out how different I sounded, and it wasn’t until they mentioned it that I started to notice the change myself. Words came out a lot different and I was calling things by different names. It was no longer a vacuum, but a hoover. I threw things away in the bin instead of the trashcan. I went to the toilet instead of the bathroom. I greeted people by saying, “Heya, you alright?” instead of “hey, what’s up?” I smoked fags rather than cigarettes. The list of my new vocabulary kept on growing with each passing day and I could hear an English twang being added to my already confused southern, American accent.

I remember my very first night out at Roehampton. I went to the Froebel bar with my friend, Trish, who is also from America (she’s actually from the exact same place and lived 30 minutes away from me, but that’s another story for another time). We were slightly lost and wandering around campus trying to find this bar that everyone was apparently going to. On our way, we ran into a third year student who gave us directions. I noticed her accent and thought it was weird that an English student had already moved in, seeing as the home students wouldn’t be arriving for another two days. When we asked her where she was from she told us California.

No, that couldn’t be right. She had an English accent! She was American? I told myself that that wouldn’t be me in the end. I’d always have my American accent.

I learned that it’s an inevitable change though. You change and adapt to your environment wherever you go. It just makes things easier in the end. You change the way you dress, speak or act, whether you realize it or not, and it’s okay. In fact, it’s quite comical and a great conversation starter. Nowadays I get shattered, I think things are brilliant and live comfortably in my gaff.

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Posted by Sam at 12:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Life is hard.

That has been my motto for the past couple of weeks. But it really isn't.

So much stuff has already happened in such a short period of time I really wouldn't know where to begin or how to even end it. It's almost as if I've had three different lives all compacted together in about two weeks time.

I suppose I just start then....

Lectures have been alright, work is still there, so are the buses and the people, yadda, yadda, yadda....

I found a new boy. And then I lost him about six days later. We would randomly see each other around uni all the time; at the bar, at the library, Fez club, walking around campus, at the bop, at the shop where I work and then finally on a sidewalk one evening when he asked for my phone number oh so nonchalantly.

It was so slick, so on the down low, so smooth, so completely out of nowhere. I wasn't expecting it in the slightest.

Boy: "So, um, I was wondering...are you single?"

Me: "Yeah. How come?"

Boy: "Well, because I was thinking of asking you out sometime. Would that be cool?"

Me: "Yeah, that'd be cool."

The next evening, I received a text message from him. I was out with my co-worker, Paloma and her friend, Rosie, watching the rugby. England was playing France in the semi-finals and we had just won. England would be going into the finals to play South Africa. The atmosphere was electric and I was feeling good. I was also feeling slightly buzzed from the cider I had been drinking throughout the evening. We proceeded to text each other for the next two hours until I finally made it home and met him at my bus stop...

...to chat. And watch a film. And drink red wine. And have what he liked to call a "midnight snack." Twice.

Yes. It means what you think it means. And the snack, just for the record, was really good.

I spent the night in his t-shirt. We had long chats about everything. He was twenty three-years-old, in his second year of uni like me and was studying education to be a teacher (I know!). I got roughly about twenty minutes of sleep before I did the walk of shame back to my flat and got ready for a ten hour shift at work. I was absolutely shattered when I finally made it back home.

He was supposed to cook me dinner the following evening, but he asked to re-schedule since he was so tired from the night before. I didn't really have any complaints about it since I could barely lift my head to text him a reply. Monday we were supposed to get together, but he cancelled since he was tired again. Tuesday he had other plans and Wednesday I didn't hear from him at all.

It wasn't looking too good. It was looking like a classic Love You Then Leave You situation for me. I felt so stupid for even believing for two seconds that he actually meant what he said. Oh, we could do this together and we could do that together. We were just going to have so much fun.

I felt like a dick and my fear was confirmed on Thursday when I found out that he had a girlfriend. Not while we were together for that very brief moment in time. Oh no. He just picked one up apparently on that Tuesday. So THAT'S why he was busy and couldn't make me dinner? He was busy with his new girlfriend, Rachel.

They studied education together and he wanted to try and "make it work." Of course he would want to try and make it work.

I waited a couple of hours before I text him my reply which simply said, "Um, congrats I guess? I want my shirt back."

I would have been absolutely fine if he would have said that it was just a fuck thing and we could have parted ways peacefully. It would have been a clean break and I wouldn't have wasted an entire week of my life wondering about yet another stupid boy that managed to get inside of my brain. It just annoyed me that he had to say all of that extra stuff about "us" together, doing things. Was that absolutely necessary? Did he think that I was one of those women that wouldn't be able to handle the fact that we had a one night stand? Why did he have to go through the effort of making me think and wonder and actually, slightly get my hopes up? I didn't fall for him, but I was placed on that path. I could have, and that's what bothers me the most about the entire situation.

I could have fallen for him...and he yanked that away from me.

In order to get over the fact that I was blatantly used, I went out into Camden that Friday and had a proper one night stand with a boy named, Jim. He was also twenty-three, but he installed air conditioning units for a living and was a terrible lay. So shit. He left the next day and we did not exchange phone numbers. And that was a-okay with me. I preferred it that way. That's all I wanted. Just meaningless sex with a stranger that I wouldn't have to see or hear from ever again. No extra bells and whistles and going on about what we were going to do together. No sir. It is what is and that's that.

I was chatting about it with Boy Sam one evening, because we're friends now, and that's the kind of things that friends chat about with each other. He said that it could have been worse; he could have lead me on for ages.

"What, like how you did me last year?" I said to him and smiled.

"Haha. Very funny. It doesn't matter though, 'cos we're going to have sex one day," he said to me with a sly smile.

"Whatevs, man. I'm never going to have sex with you."

"Sure you will. It's bound to happen."

"Oh really? Why do you say that?" I asked him while taking a pull on my Magners.

"Well, I figure we're going to know each other for a good few years, and it'll happen one of those days."

"You seem so sure about it. I don't think it'll happen. I won't let myself go there with you again."

"Yeah you will. I know you still think about it," he smiled to me.

I just rolled my eyes.

I confuse myself and am absolutely positive that I make things a lot more complicated than they really need to be. But why, I just have to ask why...why is it always the ones that are bad for you, are the ones that you always want to be there when you're at your most vulnerable?

Posted by Sam at 11:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

I wonder everytime I step out of the flat and onto the sidewalk why I even bother to do my hair every single day. Really, what is the point? I leave the flat with it all perfectly in place only to return with it frizzy, wavy and in a messy heap on top of my head. Walking around London in the cold rain is so not what it's cracked up to be.

I'm a second year student at university that lives off campus this year. Not a fresher. Very much outside of the uni bubble. This year presents itself with new challenges that I'm learning to overcome. Last year was obviously me coping in general with being in a completely new place, learning to adapt to the differences I was raised with and meeting new people left and right. It was all about change and me coming out on the other end a new person with a bit more life experience under my belt.

This year is not so much about personal struggles within myself and all of that deep, philosophical chow chow, but more every day real struggles that everyone goes through in their lifetime. Money issues are still very much a problem for me, but I know they'll eventually sort themselves out once other people get back to me (for the record, I just want to mention how shit the bank is and how I hate it with a deep and firey passion that burns deep within my soul). I have to pay bills this year. Like, real bills. It's not just my phone and car insurance anymore. No, no, no. We have a gas bill, a water bill, rent and electricity to keep an eye on. We have to deal with our council estate stuff, think about taxes and fill out forms now that we're students that no longer live within the worry-free zone of the uni bubble.

These are my new worries. In some ways, I prefer these worries over the ones I had last year. They are stressful, but far less traumatising than the shit I was dealing with last year. Everything is quite literally spelled out for me in black and white, and there's no need to analyse anything. Everything is fact and that is that.

But regardless that we do live off campus this year, and we aren't so sickly engrossed and/or obsessed about uni life, it doesn't mean that we're completely exempt from everything. No matter what we thought during the summer (this year counts, I want to focus more of my time on coursework rather than going out and pissing my money away), there simply isn't a way for us all to fall off the face of the planet and quietly exist in our new tiny world.

Things, people, even places will eventually find us again and we'll be left standing, frozen and unaware of what just smacked us straight in the face.

I was pretty much thrown back into my life here. I was extremely late in doing everything considering my main stress and concern was just scraping together any money to even get myself back over here. I didn't think about anything else other than getting myself back to London. And when I did finally get back over here, it was almost like I was racing myself to see how fast I could get everything done and finished so I could just pick right back up where I left off and do nothing but steadily work my way up. Nothing else crossed my mind. No one else crossed my mind.

But isn't that how the way things are? The second you start getting yourself together, that one thing or person will for some reason reappear and awaken a side of you that you put to rest ages ago.

Enter, boy Sam.

Oh that boy. That silly boy that has caused me so much grief in the past. The one I let cause me so much grief. We barely spoke to each other over the summer and the minute I was sure that I'd be coming back to London, he wiggled his way back onto my main radar. We had long chats over msn and once I was back in the UK I started getting text messages from him. He even rang me to see if I'd be going to the bar a couple of times. And that was funny considering he used to never ring me. Ever. For anything. I can only remember one time when he rang me even before we had our first fall out.

I started to freak out a little.

Okay, that's a lie. I started to freak out a lot.

My brain went straight back into mental overdrive like how it used to and I was racking my brain with all of those familar questions that used to drive me into the ground before.

Why is he texting me? What does this mean? Why does he care? Why can't he just leave me alone? Has he changed? Will it be different this time?

Blah, blah, fucking BLAH.

A couple of things happened. Important things.

First, I got drunk. When seeing boy Sam for the first time since the summer, I wanted to look hot and have a nice buzz going on.

Second, I recognized that all of the old feelings for him were still very much there, just not as strong. I also recognized that he is just one of those people for me that I'm uncomfortably comfortable with. And it makes me uncomfortable.

Third, I got ridiculously drunk on a different night and had a breakdown over him, naturally.

Fourth, I went to the bop (oh, the legendary bop) and woke up the next day completely free and liberated.

After that night, I was fine. Something finally clicked inside of my brain and all of a sudden everything made sense. I do not want to be with someone (or attempt to be with someone) that does not want to be with me. All of me. Completely. All of the time.

We've had some good chats since then and I've been fine. I may slip every so often and think that I'm going back to my mental ways, but for the most part I'm functioning fine when he's around and more importantly, when he's not around. We get on as friends and only as friends. I've told him that he's not right for me and if I'm honest, I'm probably not right for him and how I want someone who is so sickly intoxicated for me all the time, round the clock, head over heels, over the moon, borderline obsessed with me. But normal, of course.

It's weird, but good and necessary for us. For all of us. I think it may even get to the point where I can text him, see what he's up to and go over just to hang out or grab a bite to eat and everything will be fine and normal. That's all I really wanted in the end.

These days I can focus more on myself rather than him. I've got way more important things on my hands this year and I'll be damned if I let one man distract me from my second chance.

Posted by Sam at 07:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)