There Really Aren't the Words

It seems some kind of sick joke that the universe has played on me. That as soon as I discover the realisation that my life is in a pretty good place right now, this happens. 

About a month ago now, my friend’s dad died. Mark Kirman. He was a lovely man and out of my friend’s parents, he was one of whom I got on the best with. He burnt me a copy of an Artic Monkeys album. The grief I felt was overwhelming. I knew my own was merely a ripple compared to the resounding, plunging depths that of my friend and her family but it was more so the whole situation that got to me. How my friend had been ill and was just getting better. Her 7 year old sister. The funeral. The family photos. Going to their house, of which I have always felt at home.

Then I tried to notice the happy things again, I tried to focus on the good of life rather than the bad. I got an owl keyring especially made me from Etsy, which I loved. I got my money back from an insurance claim after sending a letter of appeal – which gave me a confidence in my writing I really needed at the time. I went out for a meal with friends before we went back to university and the vibes of contentment seemed a little shakey but there none the same.

And I got work experience at the Guardian.

I can’t even begin to describe what that means to me.

It was my Dad’s birthday – I made him cry with my card since I wanted to make it clear just how much I love and appreciate him. I worked at the flower show with a friend I hadn’t seen much over summer. I got tips and paid and felt the worry of money ease itself away from my shoulders. I had a Thai meal my last night before university at home and thought this year would be better than the next.

It won’t be.

On Tuesday, I found out that my friend from the flat below – Suki (Tom Russell but he was our Suki) died. Seeing it written like that makes it hit home a lot harder. He was one of the loveliest guys. He gave this presence to the flat of pure joy, making everyone laugh – most of the time unintentionally.

I really don’t know what to say. I don't know if I can say any more about him. My words can't describe him well enough. 

Having to deal with a parent death and a friend dying at the age of 19, I don’t know how to cope. I find myself questioning life and what we’re doing here and we’re all just going to die anyway so what’s the point in it all? It's terrifying to see that pattern of thought so clearly etched on my brain.

And then, I think back to the past few days. We’ve been at the lads’ house most of the time since we found out. The other day, there was a 4 person spoon. We all had a beer. We just sat and chatted – there was surprising outbursts of laughter and for a second everything felt normal. And then we remembered. And then it was quiet. But during those hours spent at their house, I can feel ourselves becoming closer with one another. We’re sticking together and growing stronger as a friendship group because of it.

I can’t tell you if life has a meaning, if we have a purpose. 

I can tell you it’s not fair. It’s horrible. There’s no way of getting over it, I’m just trying to get through it – cherishing those close to me as I do. Maybe that’s what we’re meant to do in life. Just hold on to one another. 

My First Twenty First

On Saturday I went down my friend's Jonny's house for his and his twin brother's 21st. It was a long train ride for me up since he's quite Southern and I'm quite Northern but I thought it would be worth the effort. I hadn't see my flatmates for most of the summer and I was looking forward to seeing them.  

I suppose I should give some back story to this. With regards to university friends I've always regarded myself as much closer to my course mates. With my flat (and I mean the flat below too) I like them and get on with them but sometimes - because some of them their closest friends are each other - I've felt a bit out of it. This party changed that. 

As well as the party itself being incredible, it made me realise just how much I love the people I live with. That night made me realise how much I had missed them and how much fun we all have. As soon as the lads walked down, hugs were exchanged, jager bombs picked up for all and the night went on to be amazing. Before going on to describe the party, what made it so much better was realising what a strong group of friends I have outside of my course. Maybe put more simply: I am part of this friendship group that I thought I am more so on the borderline. They like me (and think I'm a bit odd at the same time.) 

And the party? Well. 

Free bar - not having to worry about paying for drinks, just getting pretty much whatever you want is glorious. Though be warned, it leads to quite the hangover.
Just sitting round the shisha pipe - chatting and catching up and feeling myself slip in to the group, a place that had always been there for me but I'd had doubts about its existence.
The directions to the toilets: 'Follow the candles.' How nice is that?Hog roast. Enough said. 

Appetizers.  A small crumpet with cream cheese, smoked salmon and caviar. I tried caviar. As well as this really tasty chicken and sausage. And jelly babies and other sweets in jars on the table.
Speaking of firsts, I also tried a puff of a cigar.
There was a little bit of dancing. I have to be honest, that bit is a little blurry.

And the best moment?
It got to three in the morning and myself and most of my flat jumped in to the pool - all of us just in our pants. We swam, we sang uni chants and it was one of those moments of elation. It was a moment full of spontaneity, youth, freedom, and being close enough to people to not even be concerned about the fact you were half naked. And to older self for future reference:
Uni chat:
We go somewhere you don't go, you don't you don't
We go somewhere you don't go
(to be sung to the tune of Camptown Races) 

It was such a good night. Guys, if I show this little blog to you, please know that I love you. 

Most of us. Except Leah and Jonny.

A Puzzling Realisation

I am starting to realise just how happy my life is and that realisation isn’t met with the relief you think it would be bring. My initial response is somewhat puzzled.  

You see, I am quite the pessimistic person. I am an over worrier and more often than not I assume things will go wrong. I expect the worst and maybe just a little of part of me hopes for the best. So to find myself on my bedroom floor, looking back over the past three years of my life in the form of yearbooks, scrapbooks and photo albums, something dawns on me that I’ve never quite properly grasped before.

I’m happy.

I don’t mean to say that I am forever your typical whiney teenager of the internet. Yes, I have esteem issues and avoid my reflection and associate the word ugly with myself more often than is healthy. But I am also constantly trying to savour memories for myself and the good things about my life.

My room for my first year of University 

This has happened a lot for me the past year since it has been my first year at university as well as the best summer I’ve ever had. Whether it's the feeling of laughter during pre drinks or the realisation of the fact I am actually a student and made it. The feeling of being in a crowded festival at Portugal, watching Mumford and Sons in the sunset. Or on a beach and the realisation I’ve made two of the best friends – there I would say I could of possibly asked for – but, at the risk of sounding cheesy, if I had asked I think it would have been asking too much.

Optimus Alive in Portugal

I am not a boastful, nor arrogant person (see afore mentioned esteem) but I will forever strive to remember what it feels like to be content. Little moments when I will admit to myself that this is good and I don’t want it changing. This can be anything from dancing to a song in a club, rather drunk and feeling freedom. Or just sitting at home in an evening in with my family, all of us drinking tea and laughing at something stupid one of us has said.

When we all watch Breaking Bad and drink tea

I’m aware this isn’t the most coherent of things but, you see, I’m not feeling quite coherent. I’m beginning to realise how many of those moments I’ve had. Sometimes they’re more than moments, they’re days. Times that I am, put quite simply, happy.

Even so, I still worry and ,yes, things do go wrong for me. Cue mention of having three phones nicked in the space of a month, drunken mistakes and being judged.

I think, what I’m trying to get at, is that right now I wouldn’t want to change a thing in my life. Which is saying something and it's taken me a long time to come to this. Of course, at this moment in time the worrier is me jumps up on my shoulder and with a flourish takes me forward two years down the line.

Out of university.

Debts.

Little job prospects.

Recession.

Taxes.

Responsibilities.

To those points, which I am highly aware will make me cry later in life, for now I argue back with these:

Out of university – those three years were worth it and you know it.

Debts – on a degree you enjoyed. On at least one summer that was incredible.

Little job prospects – write a book and get it published, it’s what you’ve always wanted. Don’t stop trying until you do. In the meantime, attempt with the media or at least pick a nice shop. Or supermarket with nice food.

Recession – the government will always fuck up, you don’t have to.

Taxes – Alright, they’re just a ballache but everyone has to deal with them. Avoiding them would be worse for you in the long run.

I am happy now.

I have been for 19 years.

I have had the sturdiest and strongest friendships as well as family who I love more than anything.

It’s not one of those things where you try to convince yourself you’re happy. It’s a realisation I have stumbled across and that makes it all the sweeter. With writing this, I want to try and maintain this thought process.

Or at least have something to look back on to try and remember what it felt like.