Nostalgia, Books & Thought Processes

Today is the Tuesday of End of Codes. I am also taking time out here from working hard on my PPP to have a moment to reflect on what’s been going on for the past few days inside my head.

Lots, really. Lots and lots.

-The PPP, number one.
-I passed my (theory) driving test yesterday (wooo!)
-Books. I miss books.
-There are so many things I need to read.
-So many reasons why I need to write.
-I enjoy being back into punk-rock-esk stuff.
-Why my iPod sometimes goes screwy.
-I’m actually afraid that I will fail the IB.
-I’m so aware, so conscious, of other people’s opinions of me.
-I need everyone to like me.
-I need to please everyone. Doesn’t matter who.

But perhaps we should go into a couple of these in more detail.  Some (the last two mainly) are to do with complexes. Others (PPP and failing the IB) are just me freaking out a little bit, they’re the ones I can deal with.

Starting from yesterday, then. I had a pretty average day at school, then went to Cardiff. Several things happened there. I passed my driving theory test, and ate Wok to Walk for the first time. But it was also the first time that I’d been in the city – any city – by myself since I lived in Singapore. I never realised I missed it.
I’m so comfortable with my own company, and there was a sense of nostalgia that I got walking through Cardiff city centre on my own, listening to music and watching people, that was so powerful it really made me think.

I just went into Waterstones, like I used to go into Borders, and browsed. I miss the easy silence of book shops – the way that no one cares about you there, because we’re all searching for a story, an escape, an idea or some knowledge, that only we can find. It absorbs me; seriously, if I walk into a book shop, I’m lost to whoever I’m with at the time. It’s like I’m in a trance, just me and the books on the shelves. And the smell – OH, what a fantastic smell books have.

I walked around a little bit more, but didn’t have much time. The arcades were interesting, and there were so many people for me to watch. Everywhere. I know humans are essentially pack animals, but sometimes I think a lot of us take it over the top. When we can’t stand to be alone. I used to love being alone. I used to love who I was. But coming back to the UK changed that, I think. I stopped being able to get public transport. I stopped being comfortable with myself because I wasn’t comfortable with my environment. It isn’t a lie when I tell people I used to walk around at lunch time at my own – God, I can empathise with Cady from Mean Girls, I was almost eating lunch in the bathroom. It wasn’t like that in Singapore. I thrived on my own – I was writing stories, swimming, taking public transport everywhere, going into town by myself just to be by myself. Yeah, sure, at first it was a bit nerve-wracking because I didn’t know where I would be, but I always found my way.

The difference is, most of the time now, I feel lost. Lost in the middle of a crowd.
And the anxieties I felt as a kid, 3rd-4th-5th-6th grade, they’re all here again.

For instance, when Staple was harsh last night I reacted so badly. I didn’t want him angry with me even though I knew that he was just being a dick and that really I hadn’t done anything wrong. But I know if I see him at any point now I’ll feel like a worm is crawling up through my heart. It’s a horrible feeling. It’s a similar heart-clenching that I get when ever I feel like I’ve done something wrong or made someone sad -and I know it’s completely irrational.  Today. Lopez – I had a wonderful chat with her, nothing was wrong, and then I said that I “better go” because I had to come and do some work. Just at that moment, Red Jacket came over to talk to me, so we walked away together. I forgot to say bye to Lopez. Just that. Forgot to turn around and acknowledge her, acknowledge I was leaving her.

I feel awful about it. Obviously I don’t think she really cares – when I eventually looked back she’d put her sunglasses back on and was continuing to read (as she had done when I came over), and Red Jacket didn’t seem to think we’d done anything wrong. But just that simple lack of courtesy I showed - just that forgetful moment (that if someone had done to me, I wouldn’t really be bothered about)… I feel like she was saddened. Like I did something wrong, and that our level of friendship went down a click. I ignored her. But didn’t. But I don’t know if she was waiting for me, the ‘cya’ on her lips. To be fair, probably not. But it still ties me up in knots.

Stupid, really.

I probably just think about things. Way, way too much.

It's All Right

Notice, the difference. It’s alright. It’s all right.
Which I feel like it is, at the moment. Even though I haven’t got anywhere with the PPP yet and I was hoping to finish it yesterday (oops) and next week is End of Codes, and I haven’t even started revision when everyone else is doing nothing but studying.

It still feels right, and good, and I am happy. Probably happier than I’ve been in a while – though I was thrown on Tueday, because of a video I don’t really want to think about. Shocked and horrified me to the core, and though the feelings are numbed I feel sick just thinking about it. So I won’t, I’ll pretend it didn’t exist.

Went to the gym yesterday and the day before, haven’t done much in terms of working (as previously mentioned) but I have found all of the music that I used to love listening to, and I think it was a [cheesy] part of me that was missing. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so all over the place yesterday. I didn’t know who I was, I didn’t have a way to get rid of all the pent-up aggression but music does that for me. I just hope I don’t overplay Fall Out Boy’s new album Save Rock and Roll to the point where in the future it becomes something I can’t listen to anymore…

I’d love to see them live. I’d love to see many people live. I just want to go to concerts. And dance. Honestly, I could just dance for the rest of my days. If dancing (obviously, not choreographed specific styles of dancing but my dancing) was a career choice, I would definitely go for it. To earn money for dancing? Awesome. But then I guess that’s pretty much the same as any other career in the Arts industry, and that’s what I love about it. You get to do what you want and get payed for it. Even if it is bloody difficult, getting to a place where that’s an ability.

Good times. Happy body. Happy mind. You know, just generally in a good mood.
Time to do some work.

A Word on Doctor Who

“It’s about friendship and bravery and love and loss”
“Being human and being less than human and sometimes a bit more than human”
“Finding the extraordinary in the seemingly ordinary”
“It’s about looking inside yourself and realising you’re far greater than the external conditions of your life"
“Embracing your inner darkness so that you can stand in the light of your truth.”

“It’s about having the guts to do what’s right even when everyone else just runs away”

Yeah. That’s what Doctor Who is about. 

Theatre Code

I don’t really know how to begin. I don’t really know what I’m trying to say with this post, but I feel like I should type because otherwise I’m going to stress out. I need to do my Theatre coursework, really, rather than writing this, but something’s come over me.
I was just on Facebook and looking through profiles of people that were my friends back at Crick High. It’s weird, but for a moment I missed it. I think it was just that back there everything was relatively simple – the people were relatively simple, and I had my select few friends and was fine with that. I didn’t have guy problems and this constant nagging need to be accepted which I sometimes feel here at AC.
That’s why AC is such a blessing and a curse at the same time. It makes me feel all these foolish negative things that I felt in Sing and was just coming to terms with – except now I have to try and get over that once again and there’s no time.

I feel so bad. I deleted the piece of writing that was for the new Theatre Coursework 2-day trail thing. Theatre First Year needed it. Oh, why? Silly, silly me.

Put On Your Warpaint.

god how I have missed Fall Out Boy. I’m so glad they’re back together, it’s like my entire emo-phase was worth something. No wonder I had all these badass story ideas. I’m almost wanting to write Cassie’s final adventure – but no, not allowed. Got to finish Recto Verso before I do that. All part of the master plan.

There were all these things I wanted to talk about – write about – here, but now they’ve all disappeared from my head. Something about Facebook making me realise how strange life is, how fickle. Been going on Writers Cafe a lot more which I don’t think it particularly a good thing. I should really start studying for the IB soon… it’s only a month away. Crazy times.

Also, Game of Thrones Series 3 came out on the 31st of March. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I’ve only seen the first episode but it looks like it’s going to be as good as the two series’ that have already come out. I just wish GRRM would hurry up and write the next book – it’s not like he has to go Uni, complete the IB, work over the summer and do countless other things. Nope. But I guess that’s not fair really, seeing as he does have a load of other things to do. Life does seem to get in the way of what we truly want to do. But according to this article: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/tvandradio/game-of-thrones/9945808/Game-of-Thrones-Interview-with-George-RR-Martin.html 

There is an explanation as to why he takes so long to write each book. I mean even I don’t read over every other chapter done by the character before I continue the story. Which I would think was probably very good to get into the character’s head, but still quite time-consuming.

Why do I always feel at my best when listening to fairly angry music? That’s so weird. But I think it explains why I’ve been all over the place, listening to all this peaceful music that comes from Fam. Not peaceful, probably depressing. But definitely chilled, and definitely not the kind of motivation I need. I need this - sweet guitar chords and heavy drums, hit the high hat, sing about misery. Yep.