Pieces of my world

Sunday, September 24, 2006



I’m throwing a strop. And I’m entitled to. I’m sick of it. Sick to the back teeth of Durham sodding University and the Freshers Week that seems like it’s NEVER going to arrive. While everyone else is enrolling on their courses, getting stuck in and enjoying their Freshers Week to the max, I’m stuck at home worrying about which backpack to buy and whether I’m going to get seats on the train next Saturday. I’m sick of making lists of “what I absolutely need to buy” (which tends to comprise of a tin of tuna, a box of cornflour and then blank. I simply can’t think of what else I might need); “the essentials”; “things that you absolutely must NOT forget” . I’m sick of worrying about whether I will be the dunce of my course; whether I’ll be the social outcast because I’ve never visited a club or a bar before and I don’t know what a shot is. I’m sick of worrying about money and debt and “have I made the right choice?” I’m sick of worrying about what shoes to take and even how the goddamn laundrette works, for christ’s sake. Endless scraps of paper with attempts at constructing a budget scrawled on them mill around , only all the budgets I’ve attempted are incomplete because as soon as it comes to Maths or anything vaguely number-related, my brain promptly screeches “Aaaarrrggghhhh!! Not the gum drop buttons numbers!!” and shuts down.

And I would make a rubbish depressed person, because already, ALREADY I’m working myself out of my black mood.

That’s always the way with me. I am rubbish at harbouring any ill feeling. My feuds and grudges really aren’t feuds and grudges at all. I always start out well: “huh, if she/he/it thinks I’M going to apologise they’ve got another think coming!” and then- “Maybe I was a tiny bit wrong, after all I was rather horrib-no! OctoberPoppy, you are NOT going to feel guilty!” and it always ends up, always, ALWAYS, that even if they’re the one in the wrong, even if they started it, even if they said something really nasty and were really spiteful to me, yes, even then, I invariably go and apologise to them first.

You see, I told you, I’m rubbish at ill feeling.

I am generally a happy person- sure, I have my moods, my tempers, my moments of being utterly cantankerous and driving EVERYONE up the wall. I have those moments where I act before I think and invariably say something very sharp and wounding, that wicked dark side of me deriving pleasure from popping peoples’ egos and making them feel small, but my only consolation is this: it always blows over very quickly. Every time. I always eat humble pie first and, despite my pride and my irrationality and my wretched perfectionism, I can always admit when I‘ve been in the wrong (even if that little demon in the back of my mind whispers “but they started it…!”). Even though I realise people will probably take advantage of this, now that I’ve admitted it, I don’t care. Because simply, I can’t live with A) a guilty conscience and B) A tension filled atmosphere.

*Ommmmmm* *Breathes deeply and calmly* *Exhales*

So, I’m sorry. I do want to go to Durham really.

I am looking forward to Freshers Week really.

I am quite sure that I’ve made the right choice in Durham and that I’ve been very lucky to get a place and I‘m sure that I will enjoy my course even if I am the dunce (which I do have a nasty suspicion I will be, seeing as I haven‘t picked up my books and done one stroke of my bugbear, French Grammar, for the entire summer).

Even if I do have to wait positively AGES for uni to finally come.

(And darling Auntie, here is your honorary mention :D) "



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