All the little things

I’ve figured out why I never read at home. It’s got to do with the fact that I would rather watch television, and the fact that I sometimes travel to a coffee shop just to read, and to do with the fact that I think the coincidence of my A Level results and last years’ political excitement were significant. If the election hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have become obsessed with politics, and I wouldn’t have done all my A Level revision with BBC Parliament running in the background.

I need noise around me. I don’t mean music, or lawn mowing. I mean people talking – be it the television, the radio, the coffee shop chatter or the house of commons balderdash, I get bored after a few pages if there’s no background people blabber. I don’t just get bored, but I feel empty and unfulfilled and sad – how silly is that? – when I read a book in a silent room.

Anyway… I have a sort of job. It’s not really anything special, it’s just babysitting for 8 hours a week, but since nobody else seemed interested it’s what I’ve got to stick with. The baby is sweet and the family nice so I don’t foresee any major problems.

I just have to try out the local coffee shop. ‘Cause I can’t keep going into the town centre just to read my book!

It may also have something to do with the fact that the books I read are largely dry German literature. I want to get some proper fun books!

Any ideas?

Gyptian

I’ve applied for another round of jobs. These are really cool ones as well, like being a tour guide in Reykjavik, or a youth camp leader in Devon, or a barge deckhand in France.

I’m not feeling hopefully but maybe – maybe – I might actually get something.

Thing is, I’m going crazy here. All the people I know are out of town, and the two friends I have who are still in Reading are so consumed by their art degrees (not knocking it; it’s awesome to have a passion) that I nearly never see them. I miss people. Being with other young, inspired, up-for-anything people.

I’m starting to doubt everything about myself; whether I’m likeable, whether I’m any good at music, whether I’m a traitor to my own convictions, whether I’m boring… Bullshit questions like that which I know the real answers to, not the ones elicited by loneliness and feeling sorry for myself. I’m pissed off at myself for being so shy and lazy and I can’t keep comforting myself with spinach omelettes and sitcoms.

I hope I get one of these jobs. Especially working on barge. Because god help me, I am never happier than when my hands are dirty, my back is sore and there’s a song in my throat. I want to be a sailor, not a half-hearted student on pause.

Ahoy there captain. Whisk me away.

When I have some good news I’ll let you know. Sadly there is no news at the moment other than; oh, there’s another job I didn’t get or, oh there’s another person who’s bailed on me.

Sorry. I try not to blog like this. Sometimes I just need a place to vent.

 

Y, hola, Gaby! Disculpa me, este blog no es muy alegre. No soy siempre trista. ¡Sólo tengo hacer algo! Me gusta que tu es aqui. :)

Spiffy!

No longer do I feel crap!

I feel spiffy LICK.

I wrote three songs, I snuggled up in my blanket, I made mint tea with real mint, I plaited my hair and wore flowers in it, I ate a spinach and feta omelette, I did the laundry, and I built a shelf out of a cardboard box lid and some tape.

Awesome.

I don’t know these people but this is what today felt like.