Well, at least it's productive porcrastination

I thought to myself i'd write this blog to attempt to roll up to writing some notes on the thyroid, growth hormone and its effects on the adolescent body. It's so fun, really.

So, what happened last night is most definitely worth blogging about, if just for pure comic value. There i was, after i'd done the work i'd set myself for that day, and i had some weed left over from the weekend (which i'd decided to make a little holiday as i went to York to visit a friend. Change of geographical location most definately constitutes a holiday) and so i thought i might just smoke some. Well, i thought that when i came back on Sunday, and i thought of the same consequences but unfortunately on Sunday Lush Girl (LG, she now has a pseudo name) and I didn't spend any time alone together. Simply because of circumstance; people were always around and in my room, i kind of invited everyone in inadvertantly as i (and others) wanted to smoke but could not smoke in the kitchen (for obvious reasons).

So, along came monday and with only a tiny bit left i knew that i had to do something. Otherwise the moment would pass and then never come again. So, after smoking some, and drinking some whisky which LG bought, and waiting until it was time to go to bed so i could go in her room and smoke (as the window in my room won't open so i can't smoke in here anymore. it's an Official Piss Take) and then taking up S's offer on him leaving to give us some "alone time" i finally actually managed to get some real live alone time with her.

As the song [Stagger Lee by Nick Cave] was playing through till the end, my cigarette was burning closer to the filter, i realised that it really was now or never. And that put the pressure on just that little bit more. She started cleaning like a mad thing, which i'd never seen her do, so i waited until she'd sat down. And then, as i was in my own wonderful hazy stoner bubble, i looked at her for a while smiling. She asked "What?", several times i think, and i started laughing.

"I know we've spoken about this already, but i really like you"

And she just sat there. With an "i don't know what to do" expression spread over her face, arms and shoulders. And i thought; "fucking hell girl, is that all you can give me? Not even a positive or negative, just a blah which is bloody impossible to interpret. Cheers for helping me out here!"

So then we talked for a bit, about "what she's supposed to do" and then after a while it was said that she'd just like to be friends, or something of that sort. It was not, however, her immediate reaction.

And then i said, here's the punch line, the best line of them all; [now thinking about it i can't quite remember the order, whether i said this first and then she said friends or vice a versa] "Can i kiss you?"

It, unfortunately, wasn't like in the movies. I was stoned and just had to say it because i'd been thinking it for the entirity of the previous minute. So i said it. And she was like; "why?" and then i was like, because then i'll know. And she was like; "how will that help you know?" So we had a rather long talk about how it would help me know. Which, may, i admit, be slightly romanticised but i still hold it to be true; you can tell if someone is attracted to you from a kiss. There will be chemistry there..i hope at least, because if not then i'll never really know. But basically, a kiss would be closure. I'd know then. But she wouldn't let me kiss her. Her arguement was that it would ruin our friendship. BOLLOCKS. I'm sorry, but it's just a kiss. Kissing doesn't ruin anything; it makes it better. It's fun kissing people. It would most definately ruin our friendship if we shagged, and i fully admit that. But a bit of a snog?

Anyway, fastforward half an hour and we're still talking about the same thing but it's going round in circles and was quite frustrating. This was about 2am and both her and i wanted to go to bed but i couldn't just leave as i knew it wouldn't be talked about again so i feilded her demands for my leaving. It's not like that was the first time people had occupied her room when she'd wanted to go to bed.

Then something strange happened; i think i may have said "we never talk" and then she explained how she finds it hard to talk to people. And promised that we would talk, but tomorrow, or the next day. Then suggested she should get drunk..as people talk when they're drunk. Oh what stylish lives we lead. As students. Drinking Strongbow Super [7.5% proof] or The Cheapest Whisky The Shop Has. And then, collapsed on the bed said, after glancing at the calender on her wall; "I'll kiss you by Sunday."

So! By Sunday i will know. Which is both brilliant and fucking halarious! And i might even get a proper meaningful conversation out of her too. It's so comical to me that my facebook status reads; Belle has until Sunday. And thinks its bloody halarious.

I suppose this is one way of going about courting.

In an Effort

In an effort to sort my thoughts out and try to regain some kind of control over where my mind wanders off to i'm trying to blog more.

So, what have i done today? I went to a lecture then had PBL (similar to a seminar group). And then i came back here and worked for a little bit, i did the online learning thing (which is absolutely pointless) and got 4/4 which is good as last time i got 1/4, then i tried to do some anatomy work. It is very boring and unhelpful, when trying to study the male reproductive system, having never seen a penis or scrotum in your life and studying from a text book with a difinitive lack of pictures. So i resorted to Wikipeadia.

Something that may be a little strange; i prefer to sit and listen to music than to watch something online, like a television programme or a film. I'll sit for an hour or so, listen to music, smoke some cigarettes and maybe look out the window a little. I find it gives me space to think. I also prefer listening to music than reading a paper for the same reason. It seems i have a large desire to think but lack a definate concrete diagnosis of exactly what i think about.

The 400 medics are split into PBL groups of roughly 12 people each with whom you study each PBL case with. Each PBL group is allocated 4 "Mummies and Daddies", second years who are supposed to guide and look after you. On the first medics social, where all the 1st years and their Mummies and Daddies went out for a curry (which is most definately not as tame as it sounds - imagine 400 football hooligans without the love of football, a little more respect for others and a good education crammed into a massive curry house playing endless rounds of drinking games) and i got very pissed. But to be fair everybody was pissed. The point is, i ended up talking to one of our Mummies about how i used to self harm, because it kind of was the best thing to do, as i'm not going to walk around scared anymore...so she is, well, i don't know what she is. But she'd perhaps be able to give me some moral support in approaching someone for help.

That's essentially what i was thinking. So i might talk to her.

In other, more uplifting news, or just a statement of a very stupid action, either way it's quite funny, i may perhaps be meeting up with an old "love" interest. For one reason only. And she is quite hot, so that may go very well. The only thing is her personality, but that can be ignored for the sake of what will probably happen.

I decided to because i need to start thinking of myself and not others. For over a year i was joined to another person and now maybe its time to just be myself for a while. And if that involves sleeping with hot people, well, all the better. Because it has been a while since the last time!

We'll see how things go, what happens and why. Either way it'll be a positive as all experiences are.

This Aint Even Funny

For several days now i've been thinking of writing a blog post. But i always put it off. If i were to postulate an explanation i would have to say that i don't write about it so i don't have to think about it. because that's what writing has always been for me; a way of mulling things over, a way of digesting them and piecing together my thoughts, of concluding as to why i feel how i feel and the actions to take from thereafter.

The original title of the post was supposed to be "This aint even funny." It's been a recuring theme throughout the past few years and stems from a song by The Streets; Prangin' Out. This aint even funny, to me, is when you reach a point where you can't even laugh at yourself. But not in a humerous fashion. Because many of the things in life that happen aren't humerous but they are still fucking halarious. In a very, very, dry british way. Being dumped is fucking halarious; you'd never, however, laugh at someone if they had been. You'd laugh if their life was completely seperate from your own and you were being told a story from a friend of a friend, or through the television screen via the social phenomina that is Eastenders. It would be halarious then. And as long as that very dry humour is still present, things are funny. It's when, as Mike Skinner so articulates states; "this aint even funny" that you start to get worried. It becomes so serious that you can not even laugh at yourself. Because the trough has become so deep that even you, in your deepest self, know that things have become serious.

Anyway, the point of this is that it has not come to the point where it aint even funny. But, to be brutally honest, it's nearer than it ever has been for a while. It may well be very close. And i'm a bit of a mess. But it comes and goes. About 85% of the time i'm fine, it's just the rest that i worry about.

So, i think i should talk to someone. But it's having the ability to accept the reality of the situation, to escape from this university bubble and step out into the cold harsh reality of it all. Of accepting that i may have though i was better, wholly and completely, but in truth; i may not be.

Is anyone ever better?

The mean is a mathematical concept, it has no real bearing in reality. The mean is an amalgamation of statistics that vary greatly, it has a formulea applied to it and WHAM. There you go sir. You are offically abnormal. But how? When normal is simply a concept with no real bearing in reality? This is not the point though, and, whilst living in this university bubble, i can not really comment on the concreteness of reality.

I will try and write more. It does help to order things slightly, even if it is about and abstract concept and not human interaction. Ha. "Authentic human contact" is what our early experience sessions are. Mint.

Oh, and for the record, i came out to my mum on Friday, 31st October 2008. Via text message.

From the Start

To clear my head. I find it quite invasive when, whilst in the library attempting to study, i can not manage to concentrate for more than 15 minutes without these issues popping up in my mind.

The GF and i have broken up. The last time we were together and in a relationship was a month ago tomorrow. For me, that is when we broke up. That was when i saw her and realised that i couldn't do it anymore; from then onwards it was a ticking clock. Don't get me wrong; i love her. And i always will, just not in the way thats needed. If only there were more than one word for love. I will always love her, always want to be there for her, i would do anything for her if she asked but i am not in love with her. And i couldn't have continued the way we were; so far apart, with no real..reason to stay together. And now she is gone. And we are a month on. And i have closure, we have talked; she is alright.

But there has been another person; someone who was initially just an object to distract my attention, but has now..well, i really quite like her. Quite a lot. And it's awful to say that, because it's not wholly true. I only realised what was happening until it was too late. Gosh, all this writing makes it real. Brings to life a touch of clarity which is what i've been missing lately. But, in essence, i like this girl, quite a lot, and i think there may be a chance that she likes me too. So i'm going to go for it. When she's back off reading week. Which is a blessing in disguise as it gives us some space from each other as it's all a bit of a head fuck. To be honest. Which, in itself indicates that its not the best thing ever to be doing but as they say, no regrets. And i would regret it if i didn't go for it.

Is it the best thing to be going straight from one relationship to another? [making the large assumption that that may infact happen] Perhaps not, but does it have to have positive or negative connotations? [on the assumption that it does indeed happen] No. As it's just a thing.

The title of this post was; "from the start." But i've not written anything of what i wanted. Perhaps as writing it brings home how true it all is, and, when living this university life, everything feels like a bubble. A little bubble with Halls and University and The City (where the clubs/pubs/bars live) in which anything can happen and it won't be real. But it is, and when things happen outside the bubble, it brings home just how real the real world is.

For now, at least, i am in desperate need of a fag. So, off i go to buy some tobacco.