Tuesday, 30 August 2011

My Dad should be an inspirational speaker

My Dad may of just given me the most heart-warming bit of wisdom of my whole life: ‘‘The Dog doesn’t chase the Poo now does it? Or however the saying goes.’’ Thanks for that Dad. I’m not sure if that is even a saying, but it was inspirational to say the least.

I think my Dad had kind of guessed I was feeling a little bit heartbroken when I arrived home with a family sized box of Cereal and two huge bars of Milk Chocolate. You see thats what I do when a boy upsets me, I bake. In this case, all I was going to do was melt some Chocolate and fold in the ‘Rice Snaps’ (I am unemployed, don’t judge me because I have to buy economy) but I always find having to concentrate on my stomach rather than holding back my tears, makes me feel better almost every time. If it doesn’t it means I can lick chocolate from the bowl whilst I sit on my kitchen floor and sob. Because just sitting on my kitchen floor and sobbing on its own would be weird...

I suppose I should of been careful what I wished for and all that (I can tell this blog is going to be full of useful sayings already). Someone asked me the other day why I hadn’t written a blog in ages and I replied really honestly with ‘‘I really need a boy to treat me like crap’’. I know it was a rubbish excuse, but obviously it’s true. You see up until an hour ago, I had one of the most extreme cases of writers block I had ever suffered from. Then Australia Boy goes and pushes me that little bit to far and here I am, typing so fast and hitting the keys so hard that my fingers are starting to hurt. Like Henry Miller said “The best way to get over a woman is to turn her into literature”. Well, I wouldn’t call ‘I Would Rather Eat Chocolate’ literature, and the purpose of this little rant is not to get over him, but there is only so much hitting your head against the wall you can do before you have to find some other way of venting your frustration

Australia Boy. How do I even begin to explain Australia Boy?

Well, first of all, the reason behind the nickname is not because he is Australian (unfortunately) but because in just over two weeks time he moves to the country for six months. Seeing as I only met him two weeks ago, I wouldn’t blame you for calling me stupid. I feel pretty stupid right now. Here’s my logic: I also move away on the same day he does, but to go to University at a place an hour away from where I live now. You see in a few weeks time we both start new stages of our lives. Truth be told though, there is also a bit of an old romantic in me, because I have convinced myself that surely the fact we both leave on the same day, is a bit of a ‘sign’. For once in my life, I don’t have something in the back of my mind telling me that I will just get bored in two months time and we will start to argue and I will finish it, like every other kind of relationship I have ever been in. We both know, despite that fact we haven’t ever mentioned it, that in eighteen days time (I am counting the days because of University, not because I am soppy like that) we won’t see each other for at least half a year. That’s a long time. In a ‘normal’ six months, things change a lot, but in the six months that lay ahead of us both, theres no doubt that we will also change as people. As the people we are right now, we are enjoying taking the piss out of each other and having drunken phone calls at four in the morning. Is there any reason that should stop just because of the situation we find ourselves in?

If I’m going to completely lay my soul bare, I feel like we are on fast forward. A little bit under pressure to enjoy the tiny amount of time we have left living on the same continent as each other. There also seems to be a unwritten rule between us that we don’t talk about leaving. Whenever we talk about Australia or University, theres only so far I can go before I find myself changing the subject before we get to how we would keep in touch or if we even would carry on. I don’t even know if he wants to, which is totally unlike me, as I normally initiate the ‘What are we?’ conversation pretty soon into anything. It’s a bad habit of mine.

I thought I was being incredibly sensible and grown up, entering into this ‘thing’ (I say thing because it’s not official and what not), but as it turns out I have been a fool. Because in truth, despite it always being the plan; I’m not sure I want to give him up.

What Australia Boy did doesn’t actually warrant me to be this pissed off, but it just so happened he did it just after I had had a full blown argument with a man in Morrison’s car park for nearly running me over after pushing in front of me at the checkouts just minutes before. Also, I was going to make Rice Krispie cakes anyway, but I had planned on making them in a less ‘imagine this is his head’ sort of way when I was smashing the chocolate against the kitchen counter.

I have a lot to thank this blog for really and it’s not just that when Australia Boy reads this he might realise why I didn’t put any kisses on the end of that message (the ultimate tell tale sign of a girl being pissed off). In the past year it has helped me discover that I want to be a Journalist, made many of the ‘Boys’ say sorry to me and the ones that haven’t, have been left unable to look me in the eye. It has given me the control back of my life I was so severely lacking. The first blog I wrote was about how I wanted to give up on my A Levels after I had been ill, but this blog proved my savior, and I want you all to know how grateful I am to every one of you for reading, because without you I wouldn’t of had the inspiration to work my arse of to get my A, 2 B’S and a C (cue round of applause and shameless self praise) that I needed to do Broadcast Journalism.

Here’s to another year. Cheers.

I’m going to stop being soppy now, it really doesn’t suit me.

Live. Laugh. Love.