but coming home I feel like I designed the buildings I walk by
Oh no no NO absolutely not acceptable to say ‘I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours’ in response to second cutest boy in choir promising to send me photos of the dinner he cooked himself in his slow cooker. just. BAD.
These are the sounds of Hetty rebounding in all directions, having had choir formal and wine taken – dangerous enough – then bar and brandy taken then friend’s room and dessert wine taken. I really need to get more subtle about these things.
“To be fair, the novels emerging on our hard drives were far from the works of genius we’d secretly hoped for. They were stiff and awkward creatures, riddled with enormous plot holes, their loose ends flopping lewdly. But they were beautiful in their own ungainly way. And absolutely breathtaking in their potential.”
This is exactly how I felt when, last week, I reread my Nanowrimo of maybe three years ago. It has some seriously low points (“It was an UNSCRIBABLE snort!”) but more high ones than I remember. I had an interesting world and interesting characters and even a bit of plot. Also, a boy in a dress.
This is coming up now because I met Ev for coffee this afternoon and she told me in a rather apologetic way that she has decided to go against my excellent advice and do Nanowrimo again this year. Yes, she’s in her final year and our studies kindof matter this time around. I told her this. Only, to my dismay, I also found myself tentatively suggesting that I do it too. Hey, it almost makes sense – in these new circumstances I have way too much free time, and I don’t want to get obsessive over work to make up for it. Writing a novel would give me something to do and something to show for it too.
WHAT AM I SAYING THIS IS MADNESS. (obligatory cultural reference)
…anybody else want to join in?
Tonight I watch Merlin, read this excellent book of Ev’s and try to find something to write 50,000 (more) words about. But first I have roast peppers stuffed with tomato and basil and mozzarella to consume.
It’s been an up and down few days. I always thought having a weep the moment one has processed out of evensong is an activity for wusses only, but I’m reconsidering since yesterday. we sang the most miserable anthem I’ve ever heard (Walton’s Drop Slow Tears), which didn’t help. But my friends are very kind, wonderful girls and they took care of me. Sunday, most of the music we’re doing is chirpy and actually pretty obnoxious, so I don’t think I need to fear any extreme emotional response.
And today’s been okay. I had my first lecture of the term, in an entirely new faculty, I had lunch with friends, I had some spare hours to read Ovid criticism in the library, I made over 70 pounds (!) by selling my last year’s course books and I got to thank in person the cute, curly-haired guy who saved my newly-bought Metamorphoses translation from accidental death by second-hand booksale.
Then I bought a loaf of bread in the market from a girl who told me I was beautiful and reminded her of her first schoolfriend, who was also a redhead. Why are people who sell bread always so happy and lovely? I have just eaten a large doorstop sandwich and I suspect that the answer lies in how awesome bread is.
I realise I am grasping at straws at the moment, trying to make myself happier with insignificant, little things. But it’s better than not trying to grasp anything at all, and I need to believe the straws will get longer as time goes on. Besides, it’s not quite a week yet, and the second week is bound to be better.
It’s been raining today :) pathetic fallacy or no, rain always makes me feel better. Except when it doesn’t. it’s going to be ups and downs, anyway; time has healed me before and I have to believe it will do so again.
tonight we don TOGAS. I have bought 50 safety pins and hope this will be sufficient.
I can’t give in to this. But late nights, when there is no one around, I’ve no longer got any distractions and I can’t stop. It is what it is, the morning light will cheer me up, I will feel strong again tomorrow. Until then, I have lost my dear friend, hurt him too deeply to hope for anything at all and I can’t stop crying long enough to fall asleep. I write this here as a record, and because no-one else is around, and because refraining from telling him how much I miss him too is the only kindness left for me to give.
From: “Hetty” <email removed>
Sent: Tuesday, October 06, 2009 11:18 AM
To: “Sam” <email removed>
Have you seen this? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sAyxtwtXp1M
On Oct 6 2009, Sam wrote:
Wow very impressive and i hadn’t seen that before. Something else i havent seen
before that is equally impressive:
Sent: Tuesday, October 06, 2009 11:18 AM <——
Today is being difficult. Ev is an angel, however, and we have been to lunch and to the market for second-hand books and charity-shopping for clothes that make her look even more like a 40’s typist. Later I may go to hers for tea. I’ve also been cheering myself up by comparing things to the entries on this site. Personal favourites:
“Today, after work I went to the parking lot to my car to go home. I found my car doors heavily scratched and all my tires cut, with a note on my windshield. The note read, “Fuck you, Jackson. Don’t fuck with me.” I’m Tyler. Jackson is my co-worker.”
“Today, my friend thought it would be funny to dress in all black with a ski mask and use my spare key to break into my house as a joke. He though it was even funnier when I jumped out the window and broke my leg.”
“Today, I went to meet my girlfriends’ parents for the first time. I accidently drove past their house the first time, but saw the whole family outside waiting to meet me. I pulled a U-Turn and heard a thud. The whole family watched me run over their dog.”
I did it. and I just deleted a whole paragraph because really, no point using words on this, nearly two years of my life. From now I’m throwing myself into friends and work and busyness to remove me from vivid, sad memories, and in time it will be okay. I ended it, I hope, as bravely as he began it. I’ve been so lucky.
Jon got back today, and he’s living just above me, the highest room. The trapdoor’s been left unlocked in his room and so we got up the ladder onto the top of the gatehouse tower, around 9pm. It was dark, and we could peek at shadowy people walking in first court, and the sky had its clouds as if on a beach. It was staggeringly beautiful.