Jade

I dont' think anything on the internet has ever made me smile so much:

"Today I was driving by the lake and I saw a Jeep full of guys pass me. They were hanging out the windows and the sunroof, paddling with canoe paddles, and singing "Just Around the Riverbend" from Pocahontas. It easily may have been the coolest thing I've seen, ever. MLIA"

Yep, I'd say that's about it for today.

Orchid.

40,000 Knots

On Wednesday afternoon, looking out onto a rain-drenched Deutschland, I suddenly realised that: 2 weeks ago exactly, I was marching swiftly through central London; 1 week ago exactly, I  was drifting through some Oxonian field; 1 week later I would be sleeping in Cairo, and 2 weeks later I would be haggling for a band, studio time, and some materials for film props in a market in Accra. 

Sweet.

The past few days in Cologne have been amazing. I saw absolutely nothing of Germany aside from multiple, slightly-different-from-British H&Ms- God bless H&M, really, truly- and made up for a lot of lost time with a small corner of my family, staying up until the early hours talking, laughing, crying. 

And so begins the rush to get packed, organised- not to mention insured- for Ghana, see a few more of my dearest, and head off... first on my list is getting my copy of Teach yourself Turkish... why not?!

Orchid.

Softly

All the leaves stuck to the soles of my feet, the dirt under my fingernails, the words I can't quite get my tongue around, the grace of a young lady, not quite yet acquired, are the vowels of what makes up me. They don't create the most beautiful syntax, but they are all I have.

So I'm going to hold onto them, tightly, softly.

Orchid.

Red

Listen, you little wiseacre: I'm smart; you're dumb; I'm big, you're little; I'm right, you're wrong, and there's nothing you can do about it.

My ex-stepfather found out about my tattoo today. This was bad. Bad. Not least because I calmly had said a few days before that I had my opinions about tattoos and he had his- incorrect: I do not understand the meaning of the word opinion, I, at 19 years old cannot have opinions, and if what I voice differs from what is said by his Highness himself, it is frankly, false.

My tattoo is a stupid idea, detracting from my main goal in life (which is to become a Professor, for all, including myself, who didn't know), and if it was a good idea and I wasn't ashamed of it I'd have it on my face. It is also no different from if I had got knocked up or hooked on crack.

I'm small, I mean nothing, there is never any reasoning behind decisions I take, everything I choose is out of stupid youthful lust for the unknown, and I am sorely mistaken if I ever believe that I am somewhat more intelligent or knowledgeable than Sir Disdain.

If I am spoken to like a five-year-old, I will respond accordingly. Please await your punishment, in the form of hats, superglue, and swapped hair lotions, Sire.

India Ink

God I love my friends. They're brilliant, fabulous, wonderful, everything, everything I could want and more. Perhaps it's because it is summer.

No.

Over the past one or two years, I have felt more and more complete and perfect with the people I have around me, and through all this time, I never cease to hear the comment "your friends are so nice!", as if this isn't expected, or normal, as if surprised. Maybe it is slightly odd that I am so blessed, maybe others are not.

After work yesterday I went to my friend's birthday gathering at a most certainly overpriced bar (more expensive than London, £1.50 for a soda lime, I kid you not), and saw all my friends from school. Well the majority of them. To put a wider grin on my face, Josh came to visit me in Oxford today. We went to Maxwells to visit Ben, and ended up spending hours there.

Ben, you are the actual best person in the whole world. The world.

Love,

Orchid

Glare

I'm starting to panic slightly about losing the summer, the real summer where you run around in basically a sheet & your little wicker basket on your bike & all that matters is being free.

I don't like my white dresses & my bicycle is broken.

Sinestra

Yasmine killed Benno.

Today, walking back home for lunch, i almost walked straight past Benno, thinking he was a flickering leaf in the middle of the road. Benno, in fact, turned out to be a little ball of feathers, & a feisty one too. He must have fallen out of his nest, & not only too young to fly back up, but unable to hold onto the branches i tried to put him on, falling to the ground & running out into the road again. He didn't seem to be a sparrow, and had wispy eyebrows, reminiscent of an owl or a merry sort of grandfather; he hopped into my left hand & i took him home.

I left him in a box with fallen flowers & twigs; a bowl of water & some bread soaking in it, & left him to close his eyes & sleep, with the faint hum of a heartbeat that young birds always have. I left him with my mother, told her to keep an eye on him & make sure that my little sister wouldn't frighten him when she got home from school.

After work & then an, um, interesting, but lovely cup of tea at Greg's, i went to visit my friend's brand new baby boy, who is so gorgeous & bright. I really do want the very best for them both.

At about 9 'o clock tonight, we came back to find Benno drowned.

My sister had put a wide bowl, filled to the brim with water, in his box despite the number of times my mother had told her not to because he would fall in & choke, & Benno was nothing but a feathered skeleton, limp & wet in my hands. I tried CPR- a little water did come out of his mouth & nostrils- & blew gently into his mouth, but i don't know if what i felt was that familiar tremor, or the pulse in my own fingers which held him.

Eventually i took him outside, wishing that his mother would find him & care for him... he grew heavier in my hands as i walked back outside, & i would love to believe that he was slowly awakening.

Oh no.

Orchid

Blueprint

Is it weird that i'm really excited for the future? I mean, not simply tomorrow when i get to see my friend's brand new baby boy, not really the weeks ahead in which i'll finally have time to see my friends properly, not even going to Ghana in a few weeks... i'm excited for my life.

I'm going to be fine.

It's not that i have every step mapped and i know exactly where i'm going- i don't- but, but i no longer want everything to be okay; i know i can make it okay, no- i can make it amazing. I just have a small feeling that my life is going to be what i have wished for... what i've wished for everytime i've cried until my head hurt, everytime i've had those blessed seconds to watch the grass & its family from barely a breath away, with every brush of smoke from a birthday candle each May.

I once read an autobiography called 'Ten thousand sorrows'. It was based on a Buddhist proverb the author's mother had told her, that "life is made up of ten thousand joys and ten thousand sorrows".

Today i've decided it's almost time to begin to fulfill the best part of the former.

Orchid

Prosopagnosia

I think I'm beginning to forget some of the faces i've grown up with through school, this town, this city. They could be any other stranger now, I can hardly believe I would have only a year ago, been able to tell who they were from the end of a street, just from the way they walked, or something. The weirdest thing is, I couldn't care less.

I'm refining in my mind those who matter to me... it's starting to look like a shortlist of people I've always mattered to, no matter what.

Greg, I miss you, let's catch up (:

Orchid