Spent most of the day feeling (as Celery has so elegantly phrased it) mneh, so pretty much spent half the day in bed. Got up eventually, messed around, discovered some new webcomics I quite like via random clicking.
(aw - a Goth and her teddy... reminds me of a young me... :P - for more of these look at Chugworth Academy. )
Went to Nando's not long ago - unfortunately general mneh-ness discouraged me from actually eating much, although the food was reasonably good. Ask Ramsey...
[after finishing huge amounts of food]
"Mmm. I'm going to go sit on the toilet for about an hour now."
Also, whoever designed/printed the menu and in particular all the chicken- and peri-peri sauce-related puns should probably be punished in some way related to chickens, but to be honest I can't think of a suitable manner right now... so how should he/she/they be punished for the use of "ex-PERIPERI-ence"? Answers on a postcard please...
Ramsey will be leaving soon, as will James and Andrew (tomorrow) - feeling fairly down each time I think of this. Starting to get the feeling that I'm sitting around watching our version of Blue Boar O die... not quite sure how I'm going to make it through 3 months without seeing you guys. I've managed 2 in the past, and I will get to see Cez and Steve soon enough, I guess...
I need a hug... :'(
Edit: some things that were awaiting discovery.
I felt I had to add this, since to me it sums up a lot of where I'm at right now. It is, unfortunately, very long. I apologise in advance if it's too boringly introspective. It centres around passport photos and holy water, ffs...
*
I started packing up most of my stuff today in a bid to finally tidy my room, although it's probably been in need of it for several weeks now. I have two small bags I use for storing 1) makeup - which I keep by my sink - and 2) almost everything else that doesn't fit in other places - this one I've kept shoved at the top of the wardrobe for most of the year.
I finally removed this one from the cupboard a few hours ago to store some hairbands, and found a lot of stuff I'd forgotten bringing with me at all, if I'm honest, since I stored this bag without looking through it over both inter-term breaks.
One of the things that struck me was that it contained a small bottle of Lourdes water and a rosary ring my uncle gave me while at Lough Derg. I've had these with me all year, but never really had them out of the bag at any time I can remember, except perhaps in the first term. Which seems oddly suited to my first year, in its way - I remember actually turning up for a free breakfast or two from CICCU (the Jesus squad) back in Michaelmas, and even considering visiting some of the talks back then before deciding that these people were too freakishly dedicated for me.
Around the middle of Lent term there were definitely a few times that work and sleep took priority over going to Mass - by which point my mini-relic-collection would have been not only bagged and in the cupboard, but probably out of mind as well. The important thing to my mind, though, was the awareness that something which should have been there, wasn't, during that period of time. The best way I can explain it (those of you likely to roll your eyes at this can skip ahead to the next paragraph) is the way you tend to feel when an uncle or cousin, someone you see often but not all the time, is in another country - every so often you get the feeling that "something should have happened just now", and perhaps link it to their being part of your life, but further away than you're used to. Getting over the phase of missing out on Mass, other than having to relearn punctuality, was an unbelieveably smooth transition to make, which I guess leads on to the point I've been gradually rambling towards in this paragraph - some things may have been shelved (so to speak) at certain points in my first year, but bringing them back into my mind was so simple it makes me wonder how they slipped in my awareness in the first place. It's good to know that even when these things weren't constantly overlooking me - the holy water on the shelf being moved to the cupboard, my own transition from under near-constant parental and Catholic teaching staff supervision to being free to make my own choice - they were always with me, and only needing me to make the decision to set aside some time - or clear out a cupboard - to find the things I was missing.
*
[short intermission for readers to make tea, go to bathroom, etc.]
Okay, sermon over. I'm by no means a Jesus freak - there are people whose fervour really does scare me. I actually have an Ebie strip planned for this topic. :D
Anyway, on to yet more cheesy introspection...
*
Something that I'd completely forgotten ever having with me was a set of passport photos (minus one) I'd taken for my Cambridge application. That would make them a bit short of being two years old now.
What did I think on seeing these? Admittedly I did stare at myself with natural hair colour for a bit, as you'd expect, but it's made me realise how much I've changed over these two years.
Me-at-17 honestly does look different from the me-at-19 in the passport photos we took less than a week ago; it's a face that has the potential to become the face in the more recent photos, but at the same time could have gone in a completely different direction. Not all the changes have been good, obviously - being alive tends to involve something that for want of a better word we call "imperfection".
Me-at-17 is very slightly slimmer than me now, without a doubt; and something I wish I'd been better aware of at 17 is that, despite occasionally feeling unwanted when seeing friends with their boyfriends... the fact that things usually didn't work out for me wasn't because there was something wrong with me that everyone else could see except me. Seeing the old photos, I see someone who was - dare I say it - reasonably pretty, especially when bothered to make an effort, but didn't have enough reason to believe it a great deal of the time. Even the expression in those photos seems slightly hopeless - I don't have a clear memory of taking the pictures, but I do remember that I'd had a few tries already, and my aim was "get one where I don't look as bad as usual". In the pictures, I look fine - but also like something that's about to break and run at any minute.
WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH ME AT 17??
Fine, so even at 19 I'm not incredibly upbeat about my [winces] "romantic life". I've had some fairly confusing and painful experiences since those pictures were taken, and it shows when I compare what I see in the mirror with what I see in the old photos - a general softness about the younger expression that's not disappeared just yet, but has changed all the same.
But the thing is, I look at the new pictures and I'm amazed by one simple fact: I look happy. For the first time in what seems like ages, I have photos of myself where I'm relaxed, hugging my friends, wondering if I might fall off my share of the fairly small stool just as the picture was shot, and not caring that "smiling makes my nose look funny" (this was a real reason that kept me from smiling in photos for about 3 years).
I'm not hugely fond of cameras and never will be, but looking at these pictures I see someone gradually learning how to live as an individual (perhaps even as an adult), and not pinning all hopes on "when I meet the right guy I'll be happy". Don't get me wrong: I don't relish the idea of potentially being terminally single, I'm not about to remove myself from the (I tried so hard, but this is the only phrase I could think of that fits) dating scene anytime soon, and I'm pretty sure a chosen few people have heard me whinge occasionally about being single. But at the same time, over the two years I've become confident, more convinced that my being single or the continuous "just a friend" type isn't because there's some vital flaw with me that I-absolutely-must-change-so-help-me-God and instead beginning to accept that part of the reason lies with other people as well.
I see someone who is, if not "pretty", then attractive, dateable, and best of all a friend.
In fact, looking at the passport photo of me and Cez or our Halloween picture with Mimi, we look damn good.
*
I guess what I realised is that I've come a long way. Maybe I haven't exactly emerged completely unharmed by the experience, but right now I'm very much aware of the fact that I've survived the first year at Cambridge, passed my exams, and will be back in college in an extremely nice room next year.
Apologies for the need to force these realisations on you as well. :D
I would actually be very interested in any ways people think uni has changed them... comment, anyone?
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