Tag Archives: college

My Mad Monday – misc.

It’s more of a productive Monday, with me settling in to do all the computer work that needs to be done but is frequently put aside for better more fun things.
Unfortunately, there is always something that needs to be done on the computer, and no matter how productive it is, I feel I could be using my time better elsewhere. Sitting around on the laptop can be quite counter productive.
This morning I’ve got the ‘get up and go’ happening. Starting with two and half hours doing good stuffs with 2 coffees, then a shower, bowl of cereal and pop this post up to keep you, my loyal legion of fans, happy for another day or so while I get onto the other important stuffs. And I was just told that tomorrow I will be out most of the day with hubby attending to other business.

One of my laptop jobs is going through my drafts folder in each blog and doing a tidy up after I cleaned up my spam yesterday – finding some lost people in the process, sorry about that, it’s pretty scary in there.

Enough on that, so without further ado, here are a couple of creative writing pieces I found. The first from a friend back in College, 1991 when we were 17/18, the second from yours truly.

“You say you love me”
You say you love me,
but I’m not so sure.
I saw the way you looked at her
my heart went through the floor.
You say you don’t care for her or her love anymore,
but your eyes are filled with love and affection for her.
I can’t stand it anymore.
You say you love me
but now,
I’m not so sure.
Selina Kubach, 18/5/91

‘Home on the moor”  Edited briefly as I wrote from the original.
Hand in hand they strolled across the moor, warm against the icy wind in thick jumpers and scarves. Woolly beanies keeping the chill off their heads. Pausing to look backwards, they can see the river, winding like a snake through the rushes, green and brown, glowing in the sunset, waving in the wind. A place of great beauty where wild animals roam, and flowers bloom blending sweetness with the rugged vastness.

Further on wards they walk, pushing against the wind, the sun dips below the horizon and darkness settles in. They know this path,, they walk it every day, yet when the fog settles in, quite suddenly it seems, they feel isolated and lost.
The path gets steeper, as they wind their way around the lonesome hill. Their house sits at the top, perched precariously against the rocks. The fog lifts as quickly as it arrives and the sky is dark and clear.
The wind picks up, and they stop near a tree, to huddle and watch. A lone hawk circles, searching for prey, anything that might brave the weather.  He leaves with empty beak and the pair continue on their way.  A darkness comes over them, darker than the night, and looking up, they see the shadow of a storm cloud that promises a war upon the earth.
An eerie silence envelopes them as they make the final dash to the front door, the calm before the storm.  As the door is closed, the fury is unleashed and the tin roof becomes a source of thunder with the rain, lightening fills the rooms with light for the briefest of seconds, over and over again.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the storm subsides and passes on, they sneak a look from their window. The river is bulging and trees are down. The moor resembling more a war zone than a place of endless beauty.

moor

Picture from this awesome website here
Now, as another of my friendly bloggers would say, time for another coffee!
Happy Monday 🙂
Jennifer

Friends and Belonging.

“I have no friends. I am friendless. No one likes me, and no one talks to me. Well, not unless they have to, or they want to pick on me. They call me a snob, and poke fun at my clothes, or my hair. I’m a snob because I don’t talk to anyone (I don’t know what to say so I don’t say anything at all), and I think I’m better than everyone (well, sometimes I do, because I don’t backstab or bitch about people, how can I when I don’t even talk?). I have one friend. But she has moved away, and we don’t talk as much any more.
I withdraw into myself, it’s easier that way. Better to be teased for not saying anything than what I do say”

If I could have written this when I was in high school, that is what it would have said. Sure girls are horrible, but boys can just as bad. Girls are cliquey, and can perfect the ostracising, boys are just nasty in their straight forward nature of saying it how it is. High school sucks, kids are mean. And some of them don’t grow up, or they do, but stay “mean girls” – we’ve all met them.

College was better. I had a great group of fiends, but as they lived in town and I had to travel, there was still a lot I just couldn’t be a part of. I dealt with that easily enough, I had a boyfriend and so weekends were full of doing other things. They were good friends, and we had some fun times. But did we stay in touch afterwards? No. We went our separate ways and I spose it means we weren’t real friends, or at least I wasn’t.

Friendships come and go. I heard somewhere that people come into our lives for a reason, a season or a life time. I’ve had plenty of seasons, a few reasons (if I am to read those ones correctly) and one (at least) for a life time. I think 30 years is a good start to that. I hate confrontation, and try where ever possible to not get into one. I will run and not do anything before I confront you. Passive aggressive much!? But watch out if I do blow my top at you. Believe me, you will know I m not happy. I’ve had a few of those too. Make me nervous as hell, and feel sick, but knowing I am doing the right thing. Most of these are around because I would run head long into a friendship, it was an all or nothing thing, (like I am with most interests I persue), and of course it all falls apart rather quickly (the friendship that is). Somewhat desperate I think now.

I learnt my lesson. The hard way. And withdrew into myself. Back to the teenager who wouldn’t tall anyone. Who didn’t want to make friends in case they got hurt. I survived.
I became aloof, and would be reserved when it came to making new friends. We moved several times, and after another full on, gang busters friendship that fell apart (did I not learn my lesson? And I have since sorted it out and apologised) it took me several years of slowly slowly before I said ‘yes, we are friends’. I am vaguely still in touch with them, hubby is more so as he sees them on and off when he’s at work and our eldests’ still really close friends.

Why am I saying this?
In the last couple of months, (yes, it has taken me that long, we’ve been back for two years already) to find, know and feel I belong.
Because of my delightful friendship history I am wary of those who want to be my friends. Not wary so much, but unsure as to why they want to be my friend. What is it about me?
I first thought of this just recently when I was asked to a birthday dinner with a group of friends. Yes, I call them friends, we can catch up in the street and chat. But it’s more than that. It’s the size of the group, the closeness, and that they want me to join them.
I know it might sound strange, but once I got home after the dinner, I felt like I belonged. Really belonged. For the first time there were people who expected nothing from me, but me. They have no idea how much it meant to me (although some of them might now, if they read this). I never doubted their friendship, but was more wary about giving myself fully, too quickly. Last night cemented it for me.

This is a huge thing for me to say, and hubby aside, not many people know about it. It’s also not something I ever thought writing about, until recently I realised that at some point, I had to.

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And cause its playing on the radio as I write this, some lyrics from Brass in Pocket, one of my all time favourite songs.
Oh, ’cause I gonna make you see
There’s nobody else here, no one like me
I’m special, so special
(I got to have some of your attention, give it to me!)

Maybe a little narcissistic, maybe that’s just me.

(Photo comes from this link)