Trying · to · be · clever · and · interesting, · but · being · a · whiney · loner · instead

Dear reader, I am so sorry that this is once agian a violent, rage-fuelled post, but I need to get it all out before I end up taking it out on someone I know and making things worse.

had French and was supposed to do a group essay plan, but having missed the last class for medical reasons, did it as a group of one. Didn't quite know what to do, so hand wrote a couple of lists and handed it in. Everyone else was in a group and had typed teo pages full of very specific points. Yeah, go me. But, we live and we learn. That's not what I'm really angry about. I was speaking to the tutor at the start of class, when no one else was about, and she enquired after my health. So I sketchily filled her in about the scan I just had which caused me to miss class last week.

But there's this girl in my class, whohas back problems, and does not shut up about it. But, unlike me, she uses it as an excuse to not prepare her homework. She's all like "yes, I don't have as high a qualification as everyone else, but I'm not afraid to work" - BS. "Oh, I couldn't find out what I was supposed to do, cos the tutor never told me. and I couldn't email her because I lost her address" she useless and immature. It's like, well, that may have flown for you back in school, but welcome to the real world. She's always telling us how she's in pain, she's off to physio/the doctor/the chiropractor.

So when the tutor began to set her straight, she said to this girl "I know it's difficult, just ask your colleague here" and indicated me! Well, of course, I'd been in contact with the tutor to clarify a few points, etc in the last fortnight, but she hadn't even let the tutor know that she would be absent!

I was so embarrasesed, and someone even asked me if I was unwell!
So when we got out of class, Mony Face is all, "What a right pair we make, we're both immobile" What a cow! I said loudly "Cheek! I can walk!"

MF: "So can I, but not very well."
Me: "I can walk well!"
MF: "What happened to your leg anyway?"
Me: "I'm not gonna tell you because of you cheek! Hahaha" (I was saying it all jokingly)

She hated the fact that someone else had a "problem" and consequently she wasn't getting all the attention. This is exactly why I don't tell people. They don't have a God-given right to know. She does NOT have the right to ask me that question - I just met her, for crying out loud! What a bitch, I hate her. Next time, I will sit at the other side of the room. I should just learn from the others and ignore her.

Imagine saying those hurtful things to me! It's like saying to a blind person "You can't see". I'm not too hurt by it, but I'm really pissed off at her. She doesn't know a thing about what I've been through, about how hard I've worked just to be able to walk up the stairs, to walk, to do stuff. I've climbed up rockfaces and absailed down cliffs, and she's telling me that I can't walk very well?! I can walk extremely well, better than a lot of people who are a hell of a lot less fortunate than me. And that's what she's missing. Well, screw her.

I woke up this morning and didn't immediately hate myself. I guess in my sleep I realised some things are more important in life, like actually being alive, having all your limbs and ability, having this wonderful opportunity to study in this fantastic city, to make so many new friends. I just have to get over myself. Who cares about what anyone else thinks? So what if they hate you, if you're having fun? I just have to pull myself together and stop being so damn selfish (and dare I say it, emo, or rather scenester emo). Dear reader, I apologise that you read the previous entries. I will try to learn from this experience. I will try to be brave. Let's do this!

My goal: 2 new phone numbers by next weekend. And to make A Plan With A New Friend. What do you think?!

Ok, so today finally rolled around(as it has a bad habit of doing). I screwed up. And now I thin I've induced an identity crisis, mood swings and one hell of a complex. Nothing that bad even happened. I just feel like crap about it.

So after getting over my fashion crisis (white long-sleeved top, jeans under red diner-waitress dress), I was all set to go to that class and get alking to that guy. And I couldn't think what to say, felt too nervous to speak, to look at him, and now I'm worried he thinks of me as an ignorant bitch. And I talked to two other guys instead. He was texting on his phone instead of joining the conversation.

Did I mention that when I saw him, I said " 'S up?" ....?!!!!???!! I am so stupid, I hate myself and I have screwed up, and I just want to stay under my duvet forever.

STUPIDstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID!!!!

A guy that good looking must have a bunch of interested girls.

This next confession makes me feel even stupider and much worse, but please dear reader, absolve me in confidence...

I looked him up on facebook.

I'm sad, stupid and such a loser.

He has loads of female friends, who all comment and put x's on the end of their posts. No wonder. But he hasn't filled out his profile, so no help there. Can't just randomly start a conversation on his favourite book/movie if I don't know what it is. More proof that the world is nothing like Hollywood.

I'm doomed by my own naivety and stupidity. I hate that I'm a stupid, frivolous GIRL. I hate that I have hormones, and wardrobe crises and shallow blonde moments. I hate myself, I really do, and I can't make myself not care. I'm not crying, butI feel wretched. I can't become my inner bad-ass, because she's too disdainful of me right now. (I think her suggestion was just to jump him. Simple, but probably painful; yet effective, but in all the wrong ways)

And as for myselves...Everytime I say something I can trace it back to a mannerism I've picked up from someone I know. It's like I have nothing original here. It's like I'm a void, a limp, bland, overboiled pasta shape. Who am I kidding? He'd never like me. I was just someone to talk to at the time. I can't be at ease with myself. I never really can unless I'm at home. Where I haven't been for a month and a half. I'm going back in two weeks - maybe that'll help. I seriously need a shot of confidence. I need to be brave. I need to speak out in class. I need to stop putting myself down so that other will feel good and like me. Yes, I did get 3/10, but that was because I did the test before I did the work. I do understand the material. But when I answered a question, the tutor looked at me like he had never seen me before, even though I was sitting down the front. I do hate being a girl in a class with one other(clutching her boyfriend [who is an arrogant sob]) and ten boys. I find it hard to relate to them, although I guess I'm doing ok. I just wish I could talk to him. I was fine until last week. If only I could regain that, if only I hadn't become aware of his beauty. I think I burned more than one bridge in my head that day.

I feel better now. Stream of conciousness is a great release. I love this journal. Better still that nobody reads it.

I still don't know who I'm supposed to be working with for this group assignment. I don't know whether to hope he's in my group; or hope that I don't see much of him again. I can't tell what will happen. But I guess that makes me human.

How can I practise being brave? I guess part of it is that there is no practice: you just take a deep breath and remind yourself that whatever it is will be over in a few seconds/minutes/hours.

Can I do this? Can I live my ife as a human being? I can try.

Aw man, my leg is bothering me. I can feel the metal pressing on my kneecap, and no matter how much I squirm and fidget with my trousers I can't do anything about it. It's always there, but I'm more aware of it just now for some reason. The joint has stiffened something awful. All the work I did last year is almost gone, after a break of 4-5 months. I feel really guilty, and I'll probably not get that back. I really must make more of an effort. I hate the way I walk. Everyone stares at me, it sucks.

And I still don't know what to wear tomorrow. How are you supposed to make someone you just met fall in love with you if you don't know what to wear? I know that was so shallow, so Bridget Hennessey, but I'm tired of friends and no experience. I'm too young for taking it slow. If nothing happens now, I'll be a wrinkley, miserable, sad, frumpy spinster by the time I'm 30, instead of the sexy, smart, Angelina Jolie, go-getter that I'm aiming for (aren't we all?).

But according to a trashy tabloid paper, women make the most effort with their appearance when they are ovulating. Ew, and why did they conduct that study? It's so stupid, I am so fed up of being judged by my gender; I mean it's not my fault I have ovaries. But sometimes I wish I could see things from the other side. Not all women are frivolous and shallow; yet you are pressured to be either that, or really boyish. You can't just be yourself, or even be neutral. I am so sick of trying to be accepted by men, not to mention women. I just can't stand it some days.

But I do like this guy.

So yeah. I don't wanna wind up on another "meeting" with J, where he's buying me drinks, asking me all about myself, talking minimally about our presentation. I knew I should never have let him choose the topic - it's unbelievably narrow. That's what happens when you let your lust for cool points get ahold of you. [I just realised I've gotten a little ambiguous here: J is NOT the object of my wardrobe planning, as mentioned in the above paragraph, no no no, anything but]. But yeah, I am unsure of what J is up to. I may be misreading the signs. If it comes to anything, I'll just have to make up some crap about "I'm not looking for anything/I'm not ready/ I wash my hair a lot/ I have a boyfriend" whatever, I don't care. I know you're supposed to look back on your first and laugh and cringe, but that's when you were both twelve. I'm seventeen for crying out loud. I'm not going to inflict something on myself just for the sake of being able to say "yeah, I did that too; it was awful, wasn't it?" But I suppose that's the benefit of leaving it so late: you can focus on quality, not quantity.

But yeah, me and the flatmate (in rare moments of community) enjoy playing the game "Cheesey Chat Up Lines". Including for the hottie who we're supposed to call if we get in trouble in the flat: "Yeah, I'm stuck in the shower, I need you to come get me"; "I need some heavy lifting done"; "I think my bed's broken, would you mind taking a look at it?"; etc.
So, here's one for a psychology student: " I need your help, I keep having these recurring dreams about you..."

So far, I haven't thought of any others. It's just a matter of time (the object of the wardrobe planning is a philosophy student...I might need help with that one - suggestions are very welcome).

So wish me luck, and I hope he's in my group for this group assignment we've been given (unfortunately groups are assigned, and not assembled by us students).

And this post has distracted me a little from my discomfort.

But see how tumultuous my head is right now? There are issues here to be thought about further (by me; don't worry, I'm not asking you to do anything).

And I still don't know what to wear to a male-dominated class to impress one guy, but to exclude all the others; something which makes me attractive to him, ie which is feminine, but does not make me an outsider to everyone else (they're in my class, I can't afford to alienate myself), ie more masculine. And I don't like skirts. And I don't like objectifying myself to satisfy my ego. But I can't rely wholly on my personality. He had made more of an effort last class, I could tell; whether it was for my benefit or not, I can only hope and speculate. Whereas last week, I dressed down to include myself in the class. Oh, he was so hot last week, that I couldn't look at him, talk to him, without feeling physically sick. I got it bad, I really do. But, but, but, the signs are promising, and if we have to work together, this could be an excellent opportunity...

(note how many important details are anonymous; you dear reader are unknown to me, since I have no active friends here, but in the unlikely event that you are one of the persons described in my journal, you may experience difficulty in unravelling and decoding identities, although you will have probably figured out a few things about me.)

So what the **** do I wear?!

The last time I go for a CT Scan, everything has changed. The last time is my first time alone; no strong mother at my side, no sighing sister, no anxious father. The last trace of the tumour was wiped from me five years ago. I left home five weeks ago.

Lie down on the new scanner, an iron shackle. Gone is the small cheerful machine, doused in paint and detailed with astronauts and surfers. The oom has changed too: it is more neutral with calm waves frozen on the walls - an impersonal paradise. I sit there, feeling every year I don't have on top of my meagre seventeen, close my eyes and wish for the familiar animal frieze. The frieze incorporating a myiad of colours; every continent shown, all of nature for the amusement of the sick kids. Burnished kangaroos hopped into a blazing Aussie sunset; graceful dolphins grin, frolick in a glittering aqua sea; giraffes grazed in a lush emerald African plain. the child-sized scanner, a cheerio dressed as blast off, surf's up.

Gone.

The radiographer tells me how quick it is, how wonderful the automated voice is, how pleased she is with it. She leaves me to change into a paper gown.

I lie flat on my back; it bears down on me.
I raise my arms over my head, slide back into the socket of the all seeing eye.
Sucked in, it takes me in. Invisibly penetrating the skin, the lungs, the breath I hold inside. Hostile stars wheel in an unknown universe above my head, but I am alone, a solitary explorer.

When it is over, I redress.

I leave and step out into the cold october sunshine. I dry my face and call a cab.

The words that jump out of my head today are I CAN'T I CAN'T I CAN'T, with big helpings of screams, not to mention the imperative presence of uncontrollable tears.

And nothing fits and nobody cares. Why can't I be at home where I can silently hate in bitter waves, but feel safe..?

This is black, this is red, these are the words you never said. Shoot venom in glares, try fratricide for a laugh.

So yeah.

Back to feeling unimpressed again. This morning was good. I woke up refreshed, and managed to get my hair so clean, it still feels fresh now, late afternoon.

But it's just that my flatmate has brought her family members round. Including grandparents, asking lots of annoying questions that I can hear in my room. Why is there bread on the draining board? Flatmate: It's Heather's. In fact it is actually defrosting, so you tell me where I should put dripping bread??!!!

For crying out loud, I LIVE HERE TOO! I have the right to act as I see fit in my own home. I am being polite, pleasant, giving them their space, and they still are annoying the heck outta me. I live too far away for my parents to swing by every weekend, ok? And the only reason why my cousin hasn't been yet is cos she just got engaged. So there. And you know what else? Every time they come they use the bathoom like 6 times collectively.

I just feel so invaded by them, walking around in my flat like they own the place. They are guests and so should behave as such, respecting me, and not treating me like some distant relative. I owe them nothing, yet always feel like they are checking up on me. It doesn't help that she always tidies the mountain of dishes she has lying around, leaving my one plate on the draining board like a black mark. "Oh that's Heather's, I would never leave my dishes out" Before they came today, 4 glasses and a plate came through from her bedroom. I never, ever keep used crockery lying around in my room, never. It's part of my policy. And I always do my dishes the same day. Not like her. Brat.

So, I'm hiding in my room, playing Nirvana. I know they can hear it, but I don't care, cos I live here. I belong here and I have the right to be here, and to be respected.

And I can't deal with non friends from school drunkenly "catching up" with me, when they would never have given me the time of day 4 months ago. Please leave me alone.

It doesn't help that almost everyone has blown me off this weekend. I've sent like 4 texts to 4 different people, and no one's responded. I shower every day, so it's not that I smell, so what is it?! I feel really angry now.

It's still really hard to make friends. I feel like such a loner. I hate this. I would much rather be a loner at home, where at least I have TV and I know where the library is.

I can't wait to go home (3 weeks), or at least to see my family (3 days).

They put me on Facebook! Aaarrrgh!

It's quite fun actually, (no need to be overdramatic girl).

I still am having trouble getting people on Friends or Enemies. Why? I don't know. How can it be too complicated?

Anyway.

I feel less homesick, but all of a sudden I miss everyone I knew.

(It doesn't help that Flatmate's playing Good Riddance (Time of your Life) quite loudly in the background)

Speaking of which, Green Day's publicists really do know what they're doing. Reminding everyone that GD are still around, etc. The hairdresser has more to answer for.

I'm going value shopping today for cheap clothes. That cheers me up a little.

Still have a mountain of work to do...

I really can't handle this. Moving away, the student culture. I love the classes. Just can't get anything else right. I can't take pushing through a crowd, being the shortest and most at risk person in the event of fire or evacuation. I can't handle random strangers trying to talk to me or chat me up. I'm too young for seedy guys in seedy bars for crying out loud. You know when people say that they're too young to die? It's like "I'm too young to have to do this" cos I really don't want to. Tha job that's waiting for me at home sure looks great now. And there's the rub. I want to go home. I really really do. I want to spend the rest of my nights watching crap on the tv, with the occaisional trip to the cinema or local gig. At least in the small town home, I know it's safe. Relatively speaking. I miss everything so much. I miss the boredom of living there, I miss TV, I miss getting a lift in a car (tonight's taxi ride was the first tie I've been in a car for two weeks). I miss a decent internet connection. I miss the mates I never thought I'd miss. I really, really, really miss my sister. And my parents...and not having to worry.

I've really been ejected from my comfort zone and I hate it. I hate having to share a flat with someone I only just met. I dislike going about by myself, but it beats going about with someoe who doesn't see eye to eye with you. Like tonight. When I got in this afternoon, flatmate was upstairs with some mutual friends. Then I went out food shopping and on my way out I met this guy called Ben. He was having a party tonight and was flyering for it. I actually liked this guy: he seemed friendly and up for a laugh, and he was kinda cute in an endearing way. I wanted to go up and see him again, but ended up watching the worst ever crap on flatmate's TV : X Factor and then going out with them instead. However, not going to the party turned out well, because when we went out, it was very loud and very, very drunken, and I was scared to go in by myself. Ben probably wouldn't have remembered me anyway (he'd probably be drunk). So first we went to a student bar, and that was fine. I got coke (being underage). Then we walked down a long street filled with drunk people to a bar, crammed with drunk people, and then I realised after about ten minutes I couldn't take it and called a cab home. That's my budget blown on a crappy night. I just made up some trash about feeling sick and slightly claustrophobic (even though I don't suffer from that condition at all). When I got back, Ben's party was (and is) still raging wild. But I can't go in there. I'm scared of what they could do under the influence.

So will I ever see Ben again? Maybe. Will I ever speak to him again? Who knows. I think the more important question now is will I make it here? Will I last the night? Will I ever leave the house after dark again? Will I ever be known as anything other than lightweight, green, naive, child, etc?

Please, please God, help me.

So the story I was writing was bad.

So what. Story of my life.

Now I am in my new flat, having to listen to my horrible room mate down the corridor. She's listening to the worst kind of mix CD. Loudly. I dislike her and her taste in music. Bring back the old place in all its small town glory.

Come on now Toto, get clicking...

There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place...

sob sob.