Honest Lies – Page 39 – "Okay, so I'm the dragon. Big deal. You still get to be the hero."

Welcome! Honest Lies is the personal site of a 26 year old graduate electrical engineer living in the UK. Covering every day life, books and various other randomness. Read more about me and the site here.

“Keeping my heart warm as today, rainy days never stays”

Beginning of Castleton Walk
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I woke up bright and early at 7am on Sunday. I got ready and left the house at 8am, then ended up sitting and waited outside TESCO (supermarket) for my sister to come to get my keys from me. She was in the city this weekend, and wanted to see me after my walk. The plan was to go to the walk, then get back around 6.30pm and have an hour with my sister before she had to go home. Things did not quite go to plan for this day, in many ways.

So, by 9am I was at the pick-up point for the walk with the university “rambling and hill walking” society. There were a handful of other people of the society there and we sorta chatted – the standard name, course, year, isn’t the weather nice? sort of conversation. We got on the bus and then it was a slow trawl to pick everyone up. The bus started at my pick-up half empty – but by the last pick-up point it was packed. A woman came to sit beside me, who was a long time member of the society. She was friendly, we chatted somewhat about this and that, and I got some information about the club from her, but eventually we lapsed into silence. The bus journey was fairly short – it’s amazing how quick you can go from the city to the countryside. After around a hour I was dropped off with the rest of my group. I had chosen Walk 4. There were 5 walks being held- with 5 being the hardest. Feeling relaxed and fairly confident, I had chosen 4. Something about it appealed to me. But really, I was an idiot to choose it.

The walk started off OK – going through fields and woodlands, then it became steeper and steeper and eventually we were trudging up a hill. A very, very steep hill. My breath caught in my chest and it felt like I could never quite release it, my legs felt tight and hot. I was panting loudly, out of breath. Everyone else was of course, quite OK. It was fairly embarrassing but I managed to push myself and keep up, even if everyone else had to hear me rasping breathlessly. (How. Embarrassing) the views at top were stunning though – and I took a million pictures before the leader called for us to start again.

The walk evened out again – lush forest and fields, even a long stretch of downhill, but there was another surprise just ahead – another hill to come. It was coming on to 2pm and we had not had lunch and I thought that if I just had lunch it would be OK. I made the mistake of mentioning this and there was an awkward moment where everyone stopped for me and offered me chocolate – thankfully I managed to convince them I was fine and to carry on until the planned lunch point. Thankfully they had decided to have lunch fairly soon. I really did want to take a proper break then – but I felt too embarrassed. It was PE all over again, where you’re lagging behind coming in last, letting the team down. We stepped off the road we were on and back onto rough path, climbing up through forest. I really was struggling to breathe, and my legs felt like lead. I pushed on and was grateful when we stopped for lunch. Two sandwiches, some chocolate biscuits, some grapes and some wine gums and I still felt exhausted, and vaguely ill. But there was still another hill to climb. By this point I was starting to lag, to get moody from my tiredness. The climb got steeper and steeper and every step was agony. I was clutching my camera strap and biting my lip in an effort to endure. I was really lagging behind now. Thankfully there was another girl just in front, also lagging, but she wasn’t feeling well. I was just unfit. I do not know how I made it to the top, but once there I sat down immediately, putting my head between my knees and trying to get my breath back.

Eventually I realised I was just starting to hyperventilate and got out my water to take a long, steadying drink. I felt ridiculous. I had climbed two mountains! I should be able to do this! But in truth when I climbed those mountains with my father we paced ourselves far slower and with far more stops. That uphill bit, we would have stopped at least once – sat down, watered ourselves, probably snacked. These people were hardcore, experienced walkers. They started at the bottom of the hill and went up the hill, no stops, no problems. I was exhausted. Thankfully the walk evened out nicely. We were going along the great ridge, and to either side were breathtaking views of the countryside. The day was bright and sunny which brought out all the colors. It was wonderful. I was lagging now, but not caring. I was tired, and I wanted to take pictures. I lingered behind everyone else, always keeping them in sight, bursting into fast speed to catch up so I could go over the stiles and gates as them at the same time, but otherwise embracing my exhaustion. I had tried so hard to keep up in the first half of the walk, not pacing myself at all like usual, and had ended up so tired. We did not carry on all the way along the ridge, but dropped down, through more farmland and eventually landing up at the town of Castleton. We sat down at a pub to wait for the other groups to come. I texted my sister- who was at home, waiting for me. I was eager to see her, to talk to her about my day. Unfortunately, it was not to be. One of the groups came in late so the bus departed late, which turned my plans into a huge mess. I ended up getting off at the university, then running to catch another bus, to get to my part of the city, then I had to run from the bus stop to get to my house. I got back to my house at around half seven, and my sister had to leave at quarter to eight. She was stressed, worried about missing the train, as it was the last train of the day. I was tired and stressed from the rush of trying to get back in time, and for her too. We chatted a bit but she was off soon enough. I was very disappointed, and I almost regretted going for the hike – because I could have had the day with my sister, instead. I wanted to see my sister.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the hike. The day was lovely, the views were stunning, the people were friendly and accommodating (really, socially it was quite nice – there was not too much pressure to keep talking, as we were walking, and afterwards on the bus everyone was tired and caught up in thoughts of getting home, and not wanting to talk too much, even sleeping. I met some interesting people – a lot of them engineers, mathematicians and physicists, and a lot of international students. Even a girl who had lived in South Africa a little bit. All very interesting, very nice.) However I over estimated myself. Those hills really killed me. And I felt embarrassed- talking about my experience climbing mountains, then puffing and panting and lagging behind climbing up a hill. The more I think about it, the more I cringe. Strangely though, I find myself wanting to do a walk 4 again. I want to push myself. Yet, I don’t want to embarrass myself again. I have signed up for the walk next week nonetheless, and I will see what happens. We choose our walk difficulty on the day, so I will see how I feel then. Hopefully not so reckless as this week. But even if its an easy walk, I want to cram in as many walks as I can whilst the weather holds.

Today I woke up surprisingly not stiff, another early start, for it’s an hours walk to my house to university. The price to pay for living in a quiet suburb by myself is that it is very far from everything. The walk to university is not bad- just flat tarmac through suburbs all the way. I got to my lecture at 9am exactly, and felt tired, but not too bad, and still not too painful. My first lecture was on Power Networks and it was fascinating. It’s so great to be really digging into Electrical Engineering this year – instead of sitting through stuff I am not interested in. For the whole two hours of the lecture I was listening, paying attention, making notes, interested. I got a bit lost during the second half, but I will do a little bit of revision on the background material, the basics, before the next lecture. After that lecture I had Electrical Machines. Along the way a guy I was sort of acquainted with in first year approached me. I was shocked that anyone remembered me and happily chatted to him and his friend, who I had worked with on a project in first year, and so was glad he remembered me. It was quite nice you know? One thing I am noticing is that people keep asking me how Malaysia was and I think there is the expectation that I am going to start gushing about how great it was. It’s difficult, as it wasn’t that great. So in the end I am honest, I say that academically it wasn’t amazing, but getting to travel was brilliant. It feels a little awkward. Anyway, I sat with them for that lecture. It was weird, I felt a bit out of place. I’m so used to being alone. The lecture itself was also fairly interesting – though I have a feeling I may find this module difficult. Its all relevant to what I want to do one day though, so I shall try my best.

Really, I had a nice first day back. Just two intro lectures, no major social blunders. And I love that I’m living alone now – so I have time by myself. I can cope socially but only for a certain amount of time and I need time alone otherwise I get too anxious, I get moody and not nice to be around. I noticed it on the hike as well – once the hike was over I was keen to get back. I’d had lovely conversations all day, a few awkward moments, but nothing I said was as embarrassing as I get and I think I did OK, but after a whole day of it I was done, I needed to be by myself, quiet. In this way I think living alone will be good for me – I feel a bit calmer, less anxious, being able to come home and be by myself. I really am a bit of a loner.

Tomorrow I have three lectures, with an awkward hours break between the morning and afternoon. I have no idea what I am doing to do during that break. I’m trying not to worry about it. I want to stay in a good frame of mind this year.

“Snowstorms are coming, the heart is cooling”

→ My first day back at university was not as bad as I was expecting. It wasn’t good, either. It just was. It was terribly anticlimatic, really. I had two introductory lectures- one on safety, and another talking about the structure of third year. Both were dull and a lot of it I already knew. Socially, it was of course awkward. I got through the first lecture unnoticed, thankfully, but at the start of the second lecture I caught the eye of someone who I’d met in Malaysia, who is now taking a year abroad at my university. I remembered a close friend’s advice and did my best to ask questions, and listen to the response and ask more questions to keep the conversation on their side, unfortunately conversation does require that the other person also ask questions sometimes, and it is in trying to talk about myself or my feelings that I fail miserably. I have a habit of misinterpreting what people are asking, mostly because I have a habit of never catching the full question, and I have a habit of saying one thing when I really meant another, or wished to say something else.

After about 5 minutes of this fumbling, awkward excuse for conversation I caught the eye of someone I never expected to see – my close friend, the one who is now in fourth year. My friend from Malaysia had just asked me about my friends here, in the UK, (aka why I was sitting alone) and I was more than relieved to catch my close friends’s eye then, so I did not have to answer that question (I don’t have any friends in my year, is just such a awkward thing to explain to people) My close friend came over and we talked, then she left, and thankfully the conversation with my Malaysian friend moved on, although it was no less stilted and awkward. The second lecture passed, we attempted conversation some more, then parted. I thought about all the things I could have said as I walked home. How much better I could have presented myself. Isn’t that always the way?

→ I really cannot remember this guy’s name. My Malaysian friend. It’s right on the tip of my tongue but I just cannot remember. I’m really terrible aren’t I?

→ This year, a large part of my marks is coming from a group project. an unsupervised group project. The enormity of undertaking something like this only hit me during that second lecture today and it is now on my list of things to fret about. I am praying that I get my first choice project. It’s all simulation based, and I think I could manage that. I struggle to remember my other project choices, and I’m to scared to look, least I was idiotic enough to choose anything with a practical aspect. I know, I’m an electrical and electronic engineering who cannot solder. It’s a bit not good.

→ I joined a society this evening! I was talking to my Father on the phone, and he reminded me that I’d said I was going to join the rambling and hillwalking society at university. Of course, I had remembered that I had wanted to, but by this point I had already convinced myself not to sign up. My father encouraged me though, and the more I thought about it, the more I realised I really did want to join. I’ve climbed two mountains this year and I loved it, but I also struggled. I needed a lot of support from my father to get through those climbs. So I’d like to walk more often- just long treks through the countryside, up hills, to build up some confidence when it comes to walking, which will hopefully translate to having more confidence and independence when hiking. I’d really love to climb another mountain next year, I don’t know which one, but I want to climb something. I say this hesitantly, but I think I may have found something active I actually like.

I hope joining this society doesn’t ruin it for me. I’m worried about the social aspect, of course, and I’m also worried about how the walks will work- I’m anaemic, I get out of breath, sometimes I need to slow down for a little bit before returning to a more normal, brisk pace, sometimes I need to stop, just for a moment, to catch my breath and take a sip of water. It’s one thing being sweaty and out of breath, or needing to stop, or tripping up/slipping when you’re with family, its quite another around strangers. I’ve signed up for a walk this Sunday anyway (really, I have no idea where this burst of confidence and assertiveness came from tonight). I’m thinking I’ll just choose the easiest walk option, just to get a feel of it. Really, I’ve climbed hills before. I’ve climbed mountains. I can do this. Maybe.

→ I find I grow to hate things when they become too serious- I grew to hate music when it all became about passing exams, I grew to hate archery in first year when it all became about competition. There are things which I don’t want to be about competition, or getting a grade, but about enjoying it for its sake. I’m not competitive by nature, I work hard at my degree and strive to do well, but that’s all. And that’s my degree. Yes, that’s maybe also a reason I’m worried about this. I’m worried it will become too serious, and will stop being a relaxing thing I do every now and then, and become a chore.

→ On the subject of walking, I was talking to my father on the phone and he tentatively agreed to walking with me in the peak district in the winter! When we went to Japan we attempted to climb Mt Odake up in Aomori, despite terribly snowy conditions and it went terribly wrong. Of course it went wrong (I should really get around to writing that entry, because the story is pathetic, but the pictures are stunning). We weren’t prepared for those conditions, had no experience climbing in them really. I was scared the whole time, and both of us gained minor injuries from slipping. So why on earth would I want to put myself through this again?

I just think it would be good to do something I am afraid of.

This time, I want to do it properly. Proper equipment, an easier walk (i.e. flat). I think it could be much more fun if done properly, and I’d like to conquer the fear that Odake put in me when it comes to walking and hiking. It was the first time it hit me that actually walking/hiking is fairly dangerous. Once you’ve realised that, there’s no going back. The fear doesn’t leave you – that things can go wrong, very, very easily. I don’t want to be afraid. I want to do this dangerous thing, and realise that it can be done, despite the dangers. (Admittedly, once we got down from Odake I felt exhilarated. I’d been lost, injured, afraid but I’d gone ~300m up that mountain, and ~300m down it, in conditions I was in no way prepared for and I’d survived. There is something to be said for that feeling. Perhaps that is what I’m seeking out. Maybe its not about conquering fear, but about adventure. I’ve never considered myself adventurous though, so I’ll stick to my fear theory.)

“Who’s there that makes you so afraid. You’re shaken to the bone, and I don’t understand”

My sister came round last weekend. She was supposed to come on Saturday but on Friday I got a text saying she was coming tonight and was that OK? Well, it was far too sudden but it was hardly like I could say no. Things at home are continuing on their downward spiral, and my sister had to get away then. She was furious and fed up with the way things were. Again, I felt that anger that things were turning out like this. My father texted me to tell me to try and get my sister to calm down, the obvious implication that he wanted me to turn her round to their (our parents) side and I felt angry at that too. She’s my sister I thought. And you’re my parents. How dare he put me in that kind of awkward situation? I don’t want to have to take sides. To be honest, I never thought my family would get to the point where there were sides to be taken. As a family, we’ve never been perfect but its never been like this. Never been as bad as this, even when my sister was at her most rebellious, or I was at my most depressed, and so quiet and vicious because of it. A part of me hates that I wasn’t there at the beginning of it – it’s too much of a shock to come home and to realise just how much things have changed for the worse when you’ve been away. To see what’s been hidden from you, censored through the miles, the phone calls.

I do feel bad for my father though, even if he is annoying me with his attitude it hurts to talk to him these days. He always sounds so tired when I talk to him. He’s trying so hard, too hard. I feel helpless, as always. I wish there was something I could say to make my father feel better, my sister too, or to get my mother to change back to the person she was. I hate it all. I hate this anger. Selfishly, I feel happy to have been able to escape it, to be back in a position where I don’t have to see it, to have to overhear the arguments, to feel the tension thick in the air.

Well, anyway. My sister came down on Friday night, arriving at midnight and I fed her supper then, despite the time. Then we shared chocolate cake, heavily iced in rich buttercream mixed with crushed chocolate cookies, as we had a good bitch. The next day my sister drove us to a nearby forest and we went for a long, meandering walk through ancient trees. It was very, very pretty. We talked and played stupid games. I spy with my little eye something that begins with t — . We came back and I made food, we ate more cake. We talked some more, watched stupid videos on youtube and laughed together. The next day she took me to the supermarket and generously bought me a whole load of groceries. We came back and talked some more, and I made more food (a butternut tagine that I was very proud of – have you ever tried to cut up a butternut with a blunt knife? I do not recommend it) and we talked even more, until she had to go. We hardly shut up the whole weekend and it was nice. As predicted, it helped to lift my bad mood to be able to talk about things, everything, even the stupid little things, to be able to laugh carelessly and be a bit idiotic if I felt like it. It was also nice being able to feed my sister good, comforting food and to make her laugh. I worried about her the whole weekend, watching her out of the corner of my eye, knowing she was hardly as cheerful as she presented herself. I almost wished she could stay, in a way. That I could share my retreat, my quiet place, with her.

Once my sister was gone my mood fell again, and I spent the week doing little at all and eating too much and fretting about university. Last week, I was not registered for a single module or even on the right course. I sent emails to the right people asking to meet and they never replied. I went and tried to talk to people but they either did not know what was going on either, or they weren’t in their offices. Thankfully on Monday I finally managed to get hold of who I need to get hold of and get all the necessary paperwork filled in and handed in and to get answers to all my questions. I know what’s going on, now. I’m registered for my modules. And I’m on the course I want to be – that I’ve wanted to be on since I was 18 years old. Electrical and Electronic Engineering (MEng). That little MEng makes all the difference, to me. That fact I’m “MEng hons” makes me feel even more ridiculously pleased than I already was. And yes, I am proud too. I know its bad, pride, but damn I’d done it.

I was looking at my photos from Japan that other day, trying to formulate the rest of my diary entries, but it’s hard. I have not quite gotten over my amazement that I went to Japan for the second time, that I managed to go to Hokkaido and Aomori, where I always wanted to go. This is not the first time I have thought this. I remember clearly standing at the base of asahi dake, absolutely blown away by the beauty of what I was seeing, absolutely stunned as it hit me full force that I was standing in Hokkaido. It felt completely surreal, like any moment I’d wake up. But, I’m not waking up I thought to myself. I’m here. I felt so incredibly blessed, so incredibly lucky, to be where I dreamed I would go, so so long ago. It hit me how amazing it was to have my dream come true. It hit me just how many things I had made happen, when everyone told me they would not. Looking back I feel that sort of pride too , as it was my own hard work that had gotten me there, achieving the things that everyone told me I’d never achieve.

Three years ago I failed my A levels and was rejected from university. I was being told to “reconsider my options” and to essentially, give up. But I didn’t give up. I didn’t listen to that sort of reasonable advice. I ignored all evidence of my short comings and I fought. I wanted to be an engineer and no one was going to tell me I was not capable. No one. My dreams, that fragile hope for the future, was what got me through my depression without physically harming myself and I could not let them go, not so easily. I went through clearing- and that remains one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever done, and I got myself into a foundation course. I did that foundation year, got myself into one of the universities that rejected me, became part of the top 10% of my class in my first year, went to study abroad in my second year, got to travel and see places I could only dream of seeing before, and now this – getting onto the masters course. So yes, I feel proud. I think this is a case where I can be allowed to feel ridiculously pleased with myself. Back then I thought to myself that if I only worked hard enough I would surely be rewarded. Thus far I’ve not been proved wrong. It’s not been easy, I doubt its going to get any easier, but I hope I’m never proved wrong.

I admit, I’ll never forget the things said to me, or that feeling of failure when I was rejected from university the first time. It’s good, in a way, it gives me the strength to fight. I have a point to prove- to myself, to the world. That I am capable. But it gets tiring, fighting all the time. Always doubting, always, always looking over your shoulder, waiting for the past to catch up and for everything to return to the way it was.

I admit, second year was a tough one for me. I’m not sure I really enjoyed my time in Malaysia. Academically everything got very rough, my grades fell, and my degree means enough to me that that really affected me quite a lot. Then my Grandmother died and I was overcame with homesickness, and sadness, regret, longing, pain. I want to say my study abroad period was amazing, but I think I hit a bit of a low last year. I began to really doubt myself, to start to give up. I began to really doubt whether I was capable of meeting my goals. I thankfully managed to achieve what I wanted anyway, but I think this year I need to be better. I need to be more determined, more focused. I cannot give up yet. I don’t want to live whilst waiting for the other shoe to drop- whilst feeling that I’m about to lose everything, suddenly, without warning, any second. That this will be the year that things go wrong again. I admit, I sometimes struggle to believe that I am capable of anything more than failure. It feels very pathetic, with all that I have managed to achieve. Second year was like that, especially. I will not have third year be like that. How much more do I have to achieve before I believe in myself? I wonder. Just when will it be enough? So I say to myself now- enough. It’s enough.

That doesn’t change the fact that I’m terribly nervous about starting university tomorrow. I know, tomorrow. Tomorrow I will start my fourth year of university, and my third year of my degree. When on earth did this happen? I hope third year goes better than the second. No, it will. I’m so scared but I refuse to let it get to me. I’ll try and find my old determination, and I will not let things become so messy and painful as last year. I will not let my stupid emotions make a mess of things again. I cannot. It’s enough, now.

“Subdued, I stand here all by myself…time passes quickly, vanishing from reality”

Saturday, 31/08/2013 22:41

This summer felt like it was passing by slowly, with every day in that house with my family filled with unease and anger. Lots of anger. For reasons I cannot get into I was so very angry. I have not been in a very good place these past few weeks, tense and over emotional. This blog was forgotten about, I was too ‘busy’ trying to distract myself from my feelings by doing nothing at all. I was unhappy. Even when my aunt was here, my dads friend… it all just passed me by. Before I knew it, it was the 30th of August, September was looming imminently and I was packing up once more, moving once more. I was keen to get away from my family, from that house, but also nervous. Packing was annoying, the fact that moving marked the start of the no doubt quick count down to university starting, made me anxious. But no matter what I wanted, how much I wanted to avoid doing anything, I had no choice but to start up again.

I moved into my new house just yesterday. My new one bedroom house that I would be living in by myself. It’s right on the edge of suburbia, and I admit I fell in love with the peaceful area more than the house itself- but it was an interesting sort of place, a bit old, but spacious and with everything I needed.

My father and I set off in the early afternoon on Friday, with a car that was strangely more empty than it had been when we drove down to this city for my first year of university. Google map lady sent us on a little wild goose chase but we did finally land up at the estate agents, about 15 minutes late. Paperwork was signed, fees were paid and then I had the keys to my new place.

We arrived at the house in the late afternoon. I opened the front door for the first time and any excitement I felt was cut in half at the state the house was in. The walls were scuffed and stained, the carpets were stained and filthy, there was stinking washing in the washing machine, dishes and sponges in the sink, half eaten food in the fridge, rubbish piled in kitchen cabinets and drawers. Upstairs was a little better- the bedroom carpet was filthy, but not as marked with questionable stains. The cupboard door was broken, and the cupboard dirty, but no other surprises. The bathroom was a little mouldy, and there were hairs in the bath, a towel hanging at the door. We took the washing and threw it on the line outside. We unloaded the car and had a long look around, taking pictures and thinking about where things would go. Then we headed off to TESCO on a quest for bleach, multi surface cleaner and lots of strong kitchen towel. On return my father and I set about trying to get the place in order. We managed to get the place vacuumed and the kitchen mostly cleaned, then decided to leave the rest for the next day. My father had a pillow and a sleeping bag and would take the living room. I had some bin bags and two fleece blankets to arrange into some kind of bed in the bedroom. I laid down the bin bags, then placed a blanket over, then rolled up the other blanket to form a pillow. Tired and overwhelmed I laid down on the hard floor and tried to sleep, and tried to sleep. I was either uncomfortable and warm, or comfortable and cold. My legs hurt, my neck was bent in a strange way, I was cold. It was very dark and very quiet, and the house kept making strange noises, as houses tend to do, but every one set off my nerves. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but certainly it was in the early hours of the morning.

Around 7.40am I startled awake, feeling as if I’d not slept at all. Feeling stiff and sore and cold. My father was fast asleep. I sat and pondered what to do, as I tried to get feeling other than pain to return to my legs. Eventually I decided to shower, but the shower was broken. Eventually, I cleaned the bath out and ran a bath. It was not nice- I could just picture some of that strangers hair escaping notice.

Today was spent mostly at IKEA – buying all the many, many things that make up a house. It started off fairly restrained- a table, some desks. We had lunch – meatballs, of course. Then we got to the market hall and it all went a bit extravagant. We ended up with a huge trolley full and a flatpack trolley, too. At the checkout I struggled to unload it all, with the couple behind me making snarky remarks to try and get me to go faster (douchebags) Then we had to go stand at the warehouse collection point, an hour passing by excruciatingly slow before my father decided to go question why our things had not come, only to find that our things had already come through but they’d lost the order information for it, so had not called out the order number. Delightful. We got out of there and shoved everything into the car and came back to the house to start to put everything together. With each new piece of furniture the place started to feel less frightening and a tiny bit more like my home. It’s still a bit in disrepair- but its getting closer to being liveable. I am sat at my wonderful new desk- with a little shelf on it, and a study lamp. This will be my study area. to the side of me is the front window, upon the windowsill I have lined up my collection of cacti. I have 6, now. Upstairs the cupboard has been cleaned out and had shelving placed in it, alongside the rails that are already there. I have actually managed to start unpacking into that. My father put up a small desk in my bedroom, at the window that overlooks the fields, if you look far to the right and squint a bit. The late afternoon sun casts a warm, golden glow on the place, softens the dirt and questionable stains, and with the shiny new furniture the place almost looks attractive. My father left earlier, to go back home and collect the next and last bunch of stuff. Tomorrow he will come back and we’ll build up the last of the furniture and clean some more no doubt, and hopefully then I’ll finally be able to unpack. I’ll also finally be able to get groceries. Tonight’s dinner was cold chicken, and a bowl of cereal. I spent some time pottering about the kitchen earlier- rearranging my kitchen cupboard contents, just to keep my mind off the fact I am all alone in this strange, new place.

I still do not have a mattress for my bed. I am going to be sleeping on cardboard tonight though, and in a sleeping bag, with a pillow. What luxury, right.

Friday, 06/09/13 00:14

Today I had to wash my hair with a jug and minimal hot water. It was messy and not entirely effective, bearing in mind how long my hair is and that I do not use shampoo. I have now been a week in my new house, trying to settle in despite the glaringly obvious faults with the place.

Last Saturday night I had a sleeping bag, a pillow and some cardboard to make up my bed that night, alongside my fleece blankets. It was nowhere near as comfortable as a bed would be, but a marked improvement over the previous nights arrangement. I woke up early, feeling warm and without pain and set about getting ready in anticipation of my father coming. In the meantime I did some chores, attempted to scrounge some food and ended up sitting, staring out the window, phone clutched in hand as I waited for my father. At around three he bangs at my door impatiently and tells me, immediately upon my opening it, that we are to set of immediately to ASDA as they close in an hour. I was in my home clothes, I was hungry, neither of us even knew where the nearest ASDA was and I was not impressed. Regardless he started to get things out the car as I went to get changed. We left and went to the shops, and in our hurry I miss most of what was on my list. At least we managed to get appliances. I was more than grateful to have gained a kettle, microwave, toaster and other such kitchen necessities. My father built furniture, I tidied and cooked. Eventually we sit for a meal at my brand new dining table, in a house that had certainly begun to feel more like home. More like mine.

I have furniture now (including a bed and mattress, Sunday night I slept very well indeed), appliances, a well stocked fridge and plants brightening up every window (except my kitchen window where my herbs slowly wilt as I am unable to replant them.) I have spent my week being lazy, much in the same way as I was at home I stay indoors and try to avoid the fact that perhaps I am still sad.

I am growing to like this place. My kitchen is perhaps my favourite space. It’s small, but I enjoy pottering about it in the late afternoon, when the sun is pouring through the windows. I set a loaf of bread to rise earlier in the week upon my windowsill such that it could bask in that sun. It rose beautifully and lets not later talk about how I later burnt it as I am unused to my oven. I still don’t have a shower, which is annoying. Really, the house is filled with things that need fixing and that is a major annoyance, but I have been negotiating with my land lord and have high hopes that repairs will be carried out, so that this place can truly fulfil its potential. Its a lovely place really, once it’s fixed it certainly will be, and I do feel blessed to be living alone like this.

My dad remarked to me that I am really starting to stand on my own two feet now and indeed I am certainly becoming very independent. Which I see as a plus and also a minus of growing up. I’ve spent more time on the phone in the last week than I probably have in my whole life- the council, the electricity providers, the water company, the letting agency. For the first time I have bills. I’m beginning to have an understanding of the true cost of living – how you don’t just pay for electricity, but pay a standing charge just for having it, how you don’t just pay for internet, but have to pay line rental too. And there are other things where you suddenly find yourself feeling lost and wishing for someone’s guidance, to hold you accountable. I am trying to understand what is allowed in my recycling bin and when the bin men come and to collect what. I am trying to feed myself properly and not overeat, without anyone around to make me feel shame. I am trying to keep my place clean- to wash my dishes everyday and not let clutter build up. I am trying just to wake up at a reasonable hour every day, even if I don’t have to. I like living alone, I like the quiet and independence but sometimes the quiet gets quite too much (especially at night, where every little noise still makes me a tiny bit nervous) and I wish my dad was here to deal with everything for me. I have emailed my dad nearly every day this week, and I don’t think its because I’m lonely but rather that I’m a little scared, a little nervous and want reassurance that I am doing OK. There is a lot I still have to learn about living independently, still have to get used to.

Saturday, 07/09/13 17.28

I wish I could say that I was OK but that would be a lie. Anger fades, turns to a lingering sadness. The anxiety does not go away. I wish I had the courage to be fully honest with my dad – to ask him to send me some flowers or something, because I want to be comforted. I just want someone to say that its OK, and that everything will be OK, on an even broader scale than mentioned above. I went for a walk yesterday, I thought it would help to spend some times outside these walls, but it did not. No matter how responsible I try to be, how cheerful I try to make myself, I still feel anxious. I start university very, very soon.

Friday, 13/09/13 22.51

Today I had a shower for the first time in two weeks. The contractor came today and it was fairly awkward, but I have a shower now. I could wash my hair properly, and shave. The contractor came just in time too, as my sister comes round over the weekend. I am rather looking forward to that. I think it will help with my general bad mood right now.

And yes, I know this entry is strange – but my internet is limited and for various reasons, comes and goes. I wrote this thing in parts, and decided to leave it as its seperate parts.

Books: April-July 2013

Did not get much read these past few months. :/

29) Community Service by Vaughn R. Demont – Separate post here. Liked it, but likely only out of lingering love for Coyote’s Creed and one Spencer Crain.

30) First you Fall by Scott Sherman – This book was disappointing. I really appreciated how certain elements of this book were treated without the usual angst. Kevin was a wonderful character. The book remained light hearted and fun throughout whilst still treating heavy subject matters respectfully and it came off as realistic, too. Yet, the mystery plot was so-so and veered into the “really?” towards the end (losing that wonderful sense of reality alongside it) Things came together in a very convenient way and people were way to willing to spill the beans. Also: I figured out who killed Allen halfway through and I was hoping- hoping I wasn’t right. I was right. And I did not like the portrayal of the shy woman or the fat woman. It was a little bit offensive. And what on earth did Tony do to deserve forgiveness? I really wanted Kevin to say no, sorry you had your chance and make a fresh start. The fairly open end does not suggest that happening :/ I think I need to avoid romantic suspense? This is clearly not a genre that works for me.

31) Drowntide by Sydney J. Van Scyoc – Appreciated that it was a compact, single volume fantasy. Excellent word building. But did not work for me overall. As an aside: I miss the hand painted covers for fantasy books. The cover of drowntide is gorgeous and actually related to the book!

32) Not Dead Yet by Peter James – Loaned to me by a friend for easy holiday/airport reading and it certainly did the job as exactly that. The writing was technically good, but I found it far too plain- it’s very much we’re told what’s happening, and what characters are feeling or thinking, and as such I didn’t connect to the characters or their relationships. However the book is intricately plotted and I enjoyed immensely trying to figure it all out, as James skillfully plays between viewpoints, that seem unrelated at first, but of course were not. An engrossing read as purely an interesting mystery. But I don’t think I’ll check out any more of this author, as I do not enjoy his writing style.

33) The Devotion of Suspect X by Keigo Higashino – Galileo as a TV series was just a typical detective Jdrama- nothing special, but entertaining enough. So when I watched the movie that followed I was taken by surprise by how different it was. How much better. It was powerful and moving. The book is a little different from the movie, and maybe even better. The crime, or rather its cover up because uniquely that is the center of this mystery, is very elaborate and you do wonder- would someone really go that far for a love that isn’t even returned? But it is that that probably makes this book so devastating. Really, the book starts of a bit confusing but once it gets going and everything starts unravelling it’s hard to stop reading. The last few chapters were just so incredible, and the ending tragic. I also enjoyed book Yukawa- he was a little more human, still quirky but not quite so eccentric or strange. It was so sad seeing him struggle with knowing what his friend did. I really want to get hold of more of the Yukawa books, although unfortunately it seems only one other has been translated (Maybe there is only one?)

34) The Death of the Necromancer by Martha Wells – Once again a Martha Wells book that I struggle with at the beginning, but eventually end up loving completely. Like what I’ve read of Wells so far, this book is mature and although written in a light hearted manner with a dry sense of humour throughout, it is none the less sad in many ways. The characters are all broken and often twisted, the relationships between them uncertain and not always happy- they argue, feel betrayed, feel hurt. The book is a dark, moving adventure, with incredibly detailed world building (I am amazed at how well Nicolas knew the streets of the city and even its sewers as this meant the author must know this. Imagine building a world right down to its lower levels. Incredible.) and some brilliant characters. Also: this book is set 300 or so years later than element of fire and I did appreciate the subtle call backs to that book- although I am not sure I picked up on them all, I did think it was marvellous the reveal of just who nicolas ancestors were. (Though it was terribly sad to see him and his family still paying the price for what an ancestor they never knew did) I am not usually fan of these sorta Victorian London settings, but I really enjoyed this one. Also, gotta appreciate how Wells has released her back list as very affordable and very well formatted ebooks.

35) Scorpion by Aleksandr Voinov – The world building in this one is no where near as intricate as Martha Wells above, and at times I felt the world building was actually a little flat. The author also pushed at the line of having the erotica take over the plot- there were just so many sex scenes and with so many different people that it kinda distracted from the plot. Even the world did come across as a little over sexualised at points, which didn’t help the flatness. But although a little sparse, the world building was consistent, and I did very tense throughout wondering how things would unfold because although I could not quite grasp the world and its dynamics, I liked the characters and the relationships between them and this was what kept me reading/invested in the book. The book was unpredictable and there were many unexpected twists: the author surprised me with the identities of certain characters, and how the relationships in this book them unfolded. Kendras had an incredible strength and his dedication, and therefore his fears, about his officer were heart wrenching. I appreciated how the author handled their relationship (I really let out of a sigh of relief at the end when it came to them), and more importantly I appreciated that how the relationship between Kendras and Steel played out- anything else would have been icky and unbelievable. (Though Steel was such a strange character- he was presented as the main, but was never really developed so what happened to him did not have as much impact as it could, and should have) Also- how beautiful is the cover to this book? I admit I was drawn in by that cover because yes, that is a deciding factor for me when browsing books.

36) The Taker by Alma Katsu – No. This looked to be something I would enjoy but I just could not get into it. I did not like Lanny and did not understand, nor particularly care about, her obsession with Jonathan. This book was such a long, hard slog to get through. In fact, I actually started it last year and then abandoned it when I left for Malaysia and only picked it up again recently to finish, as I did after all buy it, but man, I am so glad to be done with it. (lets not talk about how its a trilogy. one is enough!)

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