The internet: good for near stalking, bad for relationships.
Well I’m off to get involved in someone else’s private life, but I shan’t comment on who or what it is, as they’re likely to see this blog. Although I’ve left college and will never see at least one of these people again…
I realised why I’ve been in a weird mood lately earlier today, when I was round Michael’s. He said something about me not being able to get a job because my “head is always in the clouds”, and that was the final piece of the puzzle.
I’m scared. Scared of failure, scared of being alone, scared of change, scared of the realities of life. University covers all of these, and that’s why part of me doesn’t want to go. As I said to him today, everything I care about and know is here, and I’ll be leaving it all for something that’s going to put me in heaps of debt. I guess to some extent, I’m going there to learn, and I am genuinely interested in the subject, but I still have this nagging feeling that I’m only going because it’s better than work. I can float around and ignore the fact I’m thousands of pounds in debt or I’m getting bad grades or nobody likes me. These things will worry me, but I’ll go off into Charlotte Fantasy Land TM and none will register any more.
But although I can do these at university more than if I had a job, I’ll still have to face them. I’ll be fending for myself, and I have no real idea of how to do this. I always used to value my independence so much, and enjoy the time I spent by myself, but now, I just want to be around people. I don’t want to think, I don’t want to worry about the future. It feels like as I’m approaching my eighteenth year, I’ll be off the stepping stone and into either the river or onto the bank. It’s a simile, but it’s how I feel. I’m happy now, and I want it to stay like that, but all these worries about the future are getting in the way. I cried tonight, and I haven’t for ages, but I guess at least this is off my mind. I suppose the only thing to do is to concentrate on what makes me happy now, rather than all the things that could go wrong in the future. It’s such a vague concept, I’m always prone to concentrating on the past or the future.
I always used to wish my life was planned out for me, so I wouldn’t have to be responsible for any of my decisions. I guess that as I get older, I’m realising that I’m the only one who can take the repercussions of what I choose to do. It’s a scary thought, and it makes me feel pretty lonely, although I know I’ll always have people who’ll help me out and want to take care of me. Maybe this is just a realisation that I can’t need people forever.
This isn’t a very cheerful entry, but at least now I know what’s worrying me, I can get back to the clouds and happiness.
Just in case you wanted to know how I’ve been occupying myself for the past few days.
Proper updates later this evening.
there were no fond farewells.
The weather was so oppressive today. It was hot, although the heat was bearable, but the humidity and ‘closeness’ of the air was what really got to me. All day, it’s felt as though it’s building up to something, and by about three, it felt like I could barely breathe. if only there could have been the storm I expected- although that’s predicted to come by tomorrow, which will be similar temperatures.
Tomorrow is my last day of college and I’m not really sure how I feel about it. It’s hard to put these feelings into words because they’re so vague and contradictory. I will miss it and yet I won’t, but I think I’ll miss some of the people. College has always felt temporary, although it’s such a major part of my life, and it feels as though I’ve only just arrived and am not suddenly leaving.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/6673549.stm
I think this illustrates the sheer power of the combination of consumers and the internet. I’m not even considering boycotting Mars any more- they’ve clearly admitted their mistake and actually listened to what their consumers want, something which more large companies should do. I don’t condone their decision to change the recipe, and think they should have studied their market more, rather than alienating both social and religious groups, but everyone makes mistakes.
Lately I’ve been reading other people’s blogs, rather than writing my own. I guess it’s just a new form of escapism for me- they can be as good as fiction, and it’s so easy to get engrossed in someone else’s life. I did start writing one last night, before Matt arrived and distracted me with four different flavours of Starbucks muffins, conversation, and silly playfighting. It was nice to see him as always, and even nicer when we took a detour on the way to the garage/ bus stop and just went for a short wander along some street near me. I’m going to start doing this more often, I think, now that the weather’s getting better. I can’t stand being outside in the cold, although it’s what most people seem to think from their first impressions with me, largely due the whole pale-and-wearing-black/grey, I suspect. I’m a summer person, and although I hate the claustrophobic July/ Augusts that are so common to England, I feel the cold very badly, and prefer the sunshine to dreary grey.
I’ve been aching to go and do something, lately. This has mainly transpired into a desire to get to work on the bike that I’ll be using for university, one of the three that I “own”. The first of these is my own bike, one which I’ve now outgrown, and is a gaudy red colour, the second of these, my nan’s old bike that she gave me and my sister to share, and that I’ve never used. The third will be the one that I’ll be taking to university. It’s “twenty-odd years” (according to my dad) old, and used to belong to my mum. The age will make it less likely to be stolen and make it a little different, and best of all, it’s not one of the stupid “mountain bikes” that seem to be all one can buy nowadays. I don’t need a mountain bike- I’m a city dweller by nature, and the most mountainous terrain it will be coming across is a university campus, or a park. I hate the sporty design of mountain bikes, because I’m not a sporty person. Anyway, this bike needs new tires, probably a new saddle, and some maintenance work done, and perhaps a new paint job if I have the time or the inclination. I’m aching to get started- I haven’t had a project for a while, and I miss just cycling about.
I was tempted to take one of the newer bikes (perhaps my mum’s current one, as it fits me the best), and go for a cycle today. At the park behind our local sports centre, there’s a hill that I love to cycle down. It’s steep enough to feel a loss of control, and to get wind hitting you, but not so steep that you can’t stop. It’s probably a three quarters to an hours ride, depending on how many detours I take, but I decided not to go today. When the weather’s nice like it is today, it generally means flocks of families. I like to alternately go very fast or slowly, depending on how much and what I’m thinking, and to let my mind wander, which doesn’t lend itself well to areas where small children may be in my way. I’m not the safest person at the best of times- I can’t stand wearing a helmet and I tend to wobble and weave all over the place, because that’s how my balance works. I’m even the same when walking; I’ll weave across the pavement and cut people up and not notice.
Talking of university, I do sometimes get the feeling that my family aren’t really going to miss me all that much. About the only thing I do with them now is eat, and that often doesn’t happen on weekdays. When I’m at home, I’ll generally be sat upstairs on my laptop, or reading, or whatever else. I occasionally come downstairs to play on my PS2, as I hate the small, bad quality monitor I use for it upstairs, especially compared to the wide-screen HD TV in the living room. If I can get away with it, I’ll eat my meals upstairs, and often eat on a different schedule to them, especially if my sister is cooking, because she tends to ignore the fact I’m actually human and need to eat as well. Anyway, my parents decided (before I woke up, unsurprisingly) that we were going to have a barbecue tonight. They went to Tesco to buy the stuff- again before I woke up- and neglected to buy anything for me. Chicken, check, beefburgers, check, sausages, check. Oh wait- vegetarian stuff.
I’m not making a fuss about it to them, mainly because I’m sure they simply assumed that I had it stockpiled in “my vegetarian drawer” along with most other things that I eat. It’s still a bit… I don’t know, really. There were two quorn sausages left, so I just shrugged and said that would be fine, despite the fact I don’t really like them. My sister’s breezy comment of “oh, it’s all right, Charlotte can just fill up on salad and bread ha ha ha” annoyed me a little, because that’s typical of her attitude towards me. As much as I love her, she can be an annoying brat sometimes, mainly because she always expects to just get what she wants, and usually does. For example, she wanted to borrow something from me that I didn’t want her to, and she’ll go on and on about it, and then just take it, because she knows that I’m a complete confrontation-phobic pushover. Oh well, I’m sure that everyone with a younger sibling feels the same a lot of the time.
Anyway, that’s all from me for today. Expect a blog about my enjoyable Wednesday and Thursday that I’ve already half written, but require some photos for.
And I miss my camera. I’m going to be saving for a Canon 350/400D as soon as though.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/6653175.stm
In a brief summary; Masterfoods have decided to start using animal rennet in their products, making them unsuitable for vegetarians. This will include Mars bars, Twix bars, Malteasers, Bounty, and Minstrels amongst others. Products with a sell-by date until October 1st are still safe.
This seems to be a stupid decision to me, and I’m not sure what “principles” it has been decided upon- those of cost-effectiveness perhaps, at the cost of alienating a growing proportion of the market. It’s not only disappointing as I’m rather partial to Malteasers, but because I’ve noticed a worrying trend in companies starting to use animal rennet in products which were previously suitable for vegetarians, and not announcing this. Although the news article is on the BBC website, I’m sure quite a lot of people would not be browsing around the internet for interesting news, as I was when I found it.
I’m getting out of the swing of blogging again. I intend to, then don’t; probably because people and events distract me- I’m hesitant to say “get in the way”, as most of them are welcome. I’m the library at college at the moment, although I should be in English. In fact, I was intending to miss Friday’s English lesson to blog, but I didn’t, as I was feeling responsible.
I guess that bring me onto the first thing I wanted to write about- college. Although I know I talk about it far too much, I just don’t feel as though it’s going well. I’m unmotivated, and the only lesson that I really want to be in is Classics, because it’s the only subject that really interests me at the moment. One teacher’s history lessons aren’t too bad, because he’s actually interesting, as is the topic- the reasons why the Holocaust happened, but the other is so tiresome. The same reason applies to why I don’t like English or the history lesson I’ve just mentioned- all we do is practise papers, which although I know are helpful, are ridiculously boring.
Talking of college, Michael’s decided that he’s not going to be attending university. I know it’s his decision, but I can’t help but feel a little that he’s throwing away some of his chances. I guess there’s no point in him going if he won’t be happy there though, and that’s one of the reasons why I’m going to stay out of his decision, not only because it’s not my place to influence what he thinks. I think that I said the wrong thing yesterday though, and it can’t help but play on my mind a little. He was looking at flats/ bedsits in the local newspaper, and I said to him something like “I’ll still love you even if you don’t go to university”.
He looked at me, and instantly I realised I’d said the wrong thing. I guess that I knew what I thought- university is very important to me, as is a lot of academic stuff, and he may think that it would have some impact on our relationship if he is to choose a different path than that. It doesn’t seem so, though; he said that he’d never even thought that. I’m sure he’s probably forgotten about it, not being a natural worrier like me, but it was playing on my mind.
I was sitting at the bus stop this morning, thinking about things- nothing in particular- when I started to remember things. This links in as I was thinking about when Michael came to visit me in Southend, when I was staying there over New Year. I don’t know if I ever blogged about it, but we went to the pier. As anyone that’s ever been to Southend knows, it is the epitome of bad English weather- rainy, freezing cold, and windy, a lot of the time. This day met all three criteria, although I think the rain was only a few spots here and there. Walking down a pier in those kind of conditions isn’t exactly the most sensible thing to do, although it’s the stuff memories are made of. It was genuinely funny, struggling against the weather, and eventually turning back because it was almost too difficult to walk. I remembered laughing at my hair going everywhere and feeling as though I was going to be blown out to see, and having to cling onto Michael for support. It made me smile, thinking of it this morning, and I realised that that was probably the point that I really felt like I wanted to be in a relationship with Michael.
Anyway, that’s this entry finished. I’m sure the library is sick of hearing my manically loud typing, and Rachael looks really bored.
On Thursday, I gave blood for the first time. It felt good to know that I was doing something that could help to save someone’s life.
(Disclaimer- not for the faint of stomach. My sister was fairly disgusted, especially with the photographs, but it didn’t affect anyone else)
Rachael had told me about it, as she’d given blood before, so I set off with her and some other friends to Romford Baptist Church, I believe, where they were holding the “blood run”. When we arrived, we found that we had to book an appointment since they had no free spaces for the time we arrived, so half of us booked for 18:15, and the other half for 18:30. After a wander round Romford and some food, we returned. Rachael and Marc had given blood before do they’d already filled out forms and registered. The rest of us- now only Michael and I, since Amy had dropped out- filled out a long form which asked about almost every element of life that relates to blood. The regulations are actually pretty strict; here’s a list of the things which may prevent you from giving blood.
I filled in the form, and after a short wait, was called over to register my details. I basically had to state my name, date of birth, address, which would be kept as a reference. The woman had problems spelling my name- although she coped with “Charlotte”, “Bryony” and “Kelsey” stumped her. I can understand with my middle name, as it’s often spelt “Briony”, although I prefer the spelling that my mum chose. I returned to the waiting area slightly nervous as to whether I’d be able to give blood. I find it slightly ironic that I was more worried about not being allowed to than the fact that an eighth of my blood was soon to be drained from me, but medical stuff has never fazed me.
A nurse called me into a makeshift cubicle, and began to go through the form with me, explaining what would be happening and asking me questions. She was really nice, and put me more at ease than if I’d had the “brutal” nurse that Rachael did. We managed to fill up the box of extra information, as I’d ticked “yes” to some of the questions that may prevent me from giving blood; that I’d had a medical test done recently, I’d been out of the country, and that I was taking prescription medicine. Luckily, none of these prevented me from giving blood, as the allergy test wasn’t major, I’m only taking antihistamines, and I haven’t been out of Europe. The next test to see if I’d be able to give blood was the one which I had a suspicion I’d fail. My finger was to be pricked and the blood put into a solution to test that taking blood wouldn’t make me anaemic- if the drop of blood sank, I had enough iron, but if it stayed where it was, I wouldn’t be able to give blood. As the nurse was wiping antiseptic onto my finger, she made me laugh by commenting on how thin they were and saying “I’m going to feel like such a beast, sticking this needle in such a tiny finger!”.
The nurse dropped the blood in, and as it hung there, I held my breath, expecting to be turned away. When it sunk, the nurse smiled at me, and said that I’d be able to give blood. I returned to the waiting area, a small piece of gauze covering the tiny scab that will eventually scar. I’ve got the marks from another finger-prick test on that same finger, although they’re barely visible. After a short wait, another nurse called me over as it was my turn to give blood. The bottom end of the hall had bed/stretcher/table type things laid out, with tables next to them and medical trays. The nurse led me over to a bed, and instructed me to lay down and put my things under the bed. She wiped my arm with antiseptic then put on a weak tourniquet-type thing (I’m not sure what it exactly was), so that the veins would show more. It seems that my wrists are as thin as my fingers- this nurse commented on those, which amused me.
After setting up the bag and tubes, the nurse got ready the needle, and told me that I would feel “a sharp scratch” as it was inserted. I was expecting it to hurt, but instead, it just felt a little weird and unpleasant- like a cold scratch inside my veins. After filling three little tubes to be sent off for testing, the proper, pint-sized bag started to fill. I was instructed to open and close my fist to make the blood come out better, and it flowed really quickly. I was only laying there for four or five minutes before the nurse said that the bag was full. She tool the needle out, and instructed me to press down on the spot with some gauze while she fussed around Jane, who had arrived later with Natalie. Jane was unable to give blood; although she’d passed the tests fine, apparently it was “coming out too slowly”, unlike mine, which seemed to welcome the opportunity to separate from my body.
Of course I took a few photos, although I’m sick of having to use my cell phone all the time. I really need to get my little digital camera fixed- I should take it in today.
This photo disgusted my sister up close, as she could see the needle under my skin. I hope it hasn’t turned any readers away.
Here is my blood, in the tubes that will be sent off to test for my blood type, and to check for HIV and Hepatitis. I should get a letter saying my blood type and containing a donor card soon.
If you’re in the UK and would like to give blood, this is the website you should check out; http://www.blood.co.uk/. I found it a really worthwhile thing to do, and would definitely encourage others to; it takes half an hour and something that can be regenerated in two days or so, to perhaps save someone’s life.
