Alors encore

The fact that I have decided to start writing again has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I have begun 'revision' in earnest and need a more meaty form of procrastination than Facebook. That is all that you must know.

It's bizarre to think how much has changed, and yet nothing of any real significance has happened, nothing of note. It has been all the little rewards, mistakes, arguments, creations of the past few months which have shaped me into absolutely nothing new, only where I'm going and what I dream. I guess that makes little to no sense; every day I learn something, a do or a do not, and I've realised what I want and now I am free to dream of what I actually want to dream of rather than of things I ought to want.

In actual fact, I am back to where I began. I used to be on top of everything; running around, diary in hand, late to things I didn't care about, eager and early to everything else. I used to not care what was or was not acceptable for me to be; so what if noone else was proud of me, or if creativity isn't prestigious?

Somehow, a while ago, I guess the superwoman-me broke down and I lost control of everything around me. Looking back now, none of these things were important, but I felt like it wasn't just time and cameras (two of them) I was losing, but really myself. Last academic year I was the one to put studying and being busy and proactive above everything else, and this year I did nothing of the sort. I regret that deeply, especially sitting down tonight to plan out my revision, knowing how utterly miserably I am going to fail if I don't put in absolutely 120%. But it's okay, because it's been a while now that I've known that things have to change.

I've started singing again- I guess that's a loosely based term when it comes to it- and although I still hate the sound of my own voice, I am not ashamed to use it, if only to release at the end of a long day. I've come to accept how important it is to me, even if it's not 'productive' in the sense that it will ever lead to anything. And I'm writing music again; it's still not as good as I want it to be, but I'm always getting better at it, and that's what matters.

And although I still haven't made the time to paint, I've finally got back into film making. I've produced a short film this term and loved (almost...) every minute of it. As motivation for exams I've got myself into being the assistant producer on another short (a French film this time) the day after I finish exams, in a remote, beautiful forest in England. And you know what? I can see myself doing this for a very long time indeed. I am a creative person and I'm not going to pretend to myself anymore that I want to be a big, important person in politics or health or anything; all I want to do is inspire people with what inspires me. Maybe that will have more of an impact in someone's life than a new policy or more/less income tax ever will.

And because I am somewhat proud of it, here's some of our music.

All production and synth-tastic genius, courtesy of Tom Woodgate.

Adios (:

Sea White

On a break from this.

Channeling all my thoughts through a real pen, into a new book.

This wastes words.

T.T.Y.L.

In The Night

Justin Bieber is so amazing (:

I'm not even going to bother with an apology this time around, here goes a run through of the highlights of the past 3 weeks, a photomontage-esque whistle-stop tour of why I'm 300% right now, and in no particular order:

M.I.A and Sleigh Bells were insane. I saw them in Oxford with Emma, and I don't think I've ever been in a room filled with so much energy, nor a show where people scream along to the support too., nor danced so hard and with everybody else in one night. Going to the Zodiac again, for the first time since March, was the first time I've felt like I've properly moved away from Oxford. Since university I've always still thought of Oxford as home, the place I could walk with my eyes shut, but stepping into that venue for what felt like the hundredth time, after what seemed like a hundred years, felt like past tense itself had hit me over the head... I used to go there all the time... how strange.

Next up... a few weeks ago, Olivia, Tim, a few others and myself went out to Camden, and with the intention of just going to the pub, we ended up going to the Cuban, a semi-Latino club in the stables. Enter the salsa skills I've been building up, and a lacking in any feeling of potential humiliation, and a very stacked guy who looks like he can dance. He can.

It was quite a surreal experience, very much like every dance movie I've watched to be spun and, well, danced I suppose, almost effortlessly, by a total stranger, who at the same time kept telling me how rubbish I was, and teaching me real salsa, and wouldn't let me go until I appeared to have passed some kind of test, a rite. I'm definitely going back.

The weekend after that, Jo, Tom, Milly, Milly's friend Rachel, and I went over to Milly's house to have dinner with her parents- this is not that odd an occasion, and always really fun- and having insisted that I had too much work to do to come over in the first place, Tom and I ended up staying until about 2 in the morning, having won a game of scrabble as Ravenclaw, with a lengthy list of tactics and sly moves from Milly's mother, Carlo (Slytherin), graceful play from Gryffindor, Milly's father, and Milly and Rachel aptly beginning their losing streak, reluctantly as Hufflepuff: ' How do you spell Gryffindor?'

'... And that's why you're in Hufflepuff'

We left with the last of the sparklers from the fireworks earlier that evening, and cast spells on walk-of-shamers, late-night wanderers, and various inanimate objects the entire way home. The life and times (:

And for a week now, I've gone back to doing what I love the most, what defines the places I go, the words I right, the dreams I remember. It's all thanks to one person, and for the future I hope, the world's greatest team. Thank you.

All will become clear soon (:

Orchid

Eleven

You were one inch from the edge of this bed

I dragged you back

A sleepyhead.

Sepia

News of the day is that my face is full of cold, and my arms feel like I've had every vaccine on earth in one go, and therefore, I am lying in bed while the night is still young, ready to fall straight back to sleep, having been awake for all of 4 hours, as soon as I'm done with this entry.

Also as a result, I've been on a liquid diet of John Mayer and soft piano covers all day, as anything heavier makes me feel nauseous. I'm not even joking. It's odd, I haven't listened to beautiful, innocent music for such a long time; it's weirdly refreshing, and kind of reminds you of the point of everything.

I've had a pretty cool week. My little sister came to stay last Wednesday, and we filled up the evening with fairground rides at Leicester Square, and dinner, and secrets at bedtime... I love that finally, we're growing to become really good friends rather than a counterpart to tolerate.

I spent the weekend in Oxford at a conference for Model UN... yes, I'm a ridiculous nerd, especially to find myself in a 'WHO' committee, where nobody else had made themselves aware of the finer details of the virology of HIV. But I want to get good at public speaking, and debate is a no-go as I view it in the same way as 'going' running- if you're not trying to get anywhere, what on earth is the point? And debate is argument for argument's sake.

Anyway, the sessions were fun, and the evenings I boycotted were awesome: I went to a Halloween party with Brasenose college with my friend, dressed up as a hipster and greeted by dumbfounded stares when I tried to explain, and hit on by every male within a two-metre radius of me at any given point, as I was 'fresh-blood' / Oxford guys are super sharky. Thank you Lord that I go to UCL. On the other hand, having told my friend that I wasn't really up for going out as I had to be up at 7.30 the next day, I danced until 3 in the morning, and had an amazing night.

I spent the next night curled up on the sofa next to my Mom and a hot chocolate, watching Saturday-night TV. I had a similarly chilled scenario on the Sunday evening, when I got back to London and went straight over to Ted's house to drop off the prints from my disposable photos from Ghana and Togo... I ended up staying for tea and poring over the photos together, laughing at the irreversible, candid beauty that is what I love about disposables. They are such an awesome bunch of images- the kind that you can laugh at and remember every minute of the day it was taken in 30 years time.

Monday was spent -and I am now starting to realise why I'm so behind in work- at said house again, and to be fair, a lot of reading was done whilst Louise, Viki, and I were sat together; descent into hyperactive chaos began once Ted entered, and sugary treats (as always, provided by Louise) were introduced to the equation. I had an awesome evening, including watching Anatomy videos with the funny-accent guy ("meta-tar-sal"), which only got funnier once I got home and Leo arrived.

And tonight I've just got back from Tom's, and have definitely written enough for one post, and so will summarise the evening by saying that I'm so grateful to have so many amazing people in my life (:

Exhale.

Shut eyes.

Sleep.

Orchid.

Dandelion Kiss

I'm listening to Avril Lavigne. This can't be good.

Curses, curses for not writing more often. Shaking a metaphorical fist at myself is firstly physically awkward, and secondly not going to create a mystical history-pen, so let's go from here.

I have now been fully immersed into second year, and I've decided I don't like it. I take my own words with a pinch of salt here, because they are accompanied by a sticking-out lower lip, and therefore may change in poignance with time. An hour may well be enough.

To clarify; everything is amazing. I love every single one of my classes: Palaeoanthropology (I can now tell you, from a mere fragment of bone whether it is fossil, living, ape, human, fibula or femur, and more); Primate behaviour and ecology (lecturer has lived longer with apes than with humans. Specialised in primate homosexuality); International health policy... in which I get to learn in great detail how impossibly corrupt the entire world is; and Medical microbiology- just pure nerdy awesome.

I love my house for being so cosy, my housemates for being so crazy, and my new neighbourhood for being so green and beautiful. Hampstead Heath is only 10 minutes away; I went for the first time on Sunday and it really is as gorgeous as everyone says. It's no Bagley Wood, but I don't want it to be.

I have a job, I have a pot of flowers, I have my sewing machine, I have a bicycle. It would be nice to have some friends to cycle to.

Things are so different this year. I am exaggerating; I do have friends, but they are new ones. Newfound friends who too care about dance- who live and breathe it too; those who can't sit still and watch all the crap that goes on in the world and want to do something about it; and those who simply occur in my day-to-day. I guess what's easy, goes.

And what isn't falls apart.

Distance isn't easy, apathy isn't easy, and changing what's important to everyone- who's important- isn't easy. What makes me sadder than anything is that it doesn't even feel weird, and I seem to have learnt simply not to miss anybody anymore. All that happens is the occasional awkward moment, sitting on a bus by myself, remembering how good things were not too long ago, smiling, and then remembering how excited I was for this year to be exactly the same. It will be golden. I just really, really hope, in a birthday candle way, that it doesn't have to mean losing those people who were my rock.

I almost hope I still can't live without them.

Orchid.

Jack

Dear Blog,

I am about to begin another melancholy drone, and have realised that you have become one of those friends one only speaks to on matters of self deprecation. I do apologise, however, I shall continue on my miserly tone until the next time we speak.

Faithfully,

Orchid

I feel awful.

I tried calling my Mother today, and realised that despite feeling lonely, I don't really want to speak to anybody right now. Every word I hear from somebody I know makes me want to cry out for freedom from the damn conversation, and yet I want to curl up into familiar arms, and stay there for a while. I feel incompetent, inadequate, ignorant, and a failure.

Jack of all trades, and master of none; I don't know how I'm going to be able to do anything with myself. I don't have the time (or currently even the patience) to see my friends; nor am I going to be a marvel within the things taking up my time right now.

Listless, in a word.

Orchid