Word Thief.

This summer, I haven't really stopped. I've lived in 2 houses, been dicked about, gotten drunk, and worked (a fuckload) but I haven't had the chance to just sit still and think. You know, just sit here and think. But I've been given a four-hour break at work and for once I don't want to sleep in the Private Dining room, so I thought I'd sit in Starbucks and check over my life.

I suppose the biggest thing happening right now is third year (which is in fact happening at the end of September). I'm quite scared. I don't have any second chances after this, yet I can't motivate myself enough to get this bloody summer journal done. I think I might do a Thoughts From Places* sort of thing to get me started.

In other news, I'm hitting twenty soon. As in, getting old. It's downhill from here, but I've done a lot that I'm proud of. Like, I've moved out (and to my knowledge, I'm the only unmarried somewhat-muslim bengali girl I know to do so. Ooops). Mother still can't bring herself to admit to people/herself that I've moved out - she keeps telling people I'm interning at some London newspaper to save herself the shame. I don't know whether it's asking for much, but I'd like it if she could just acknowledge that I'm doing shit by myself for once, and going for what I want.

I mean, I say "what I want", but what the hell do I want? I guess a list is the next logical step:

1. A job I like. Okay, my current job isn't bad. I'm a waitress at some famous as shit pub in one of the sloaniest parts of London, the customers hit on me at time (something to do with being the only brown person there apart from the kitchen porter), the tips are shit and the wage is more so. But the people are good. I suppose I could do better.
2. A bit of talent. I'm gonna be honest, I'm not very good at things. I can follow bands pretty well, write averagely, no critical or creative skills to speak of though. Maybe I'll be a PA. No, I'm bloody good at telling other people where they went wrong. And flirting with old men (God, I am a disgrace to my family).
3. A bit more money. I suppose we all could though.

It is worth noting that I'm a lot happier these days. Like... a lot. It doesn't take much for me to go over the edge though. I don't like that. I don't like that I've put myself in a vulnerable position where everything could go tits up and I lose my house cause I can't work and fuck up third year because it's like final A-level year all over again and it all just goes wrong. (Yeah, I've developed a problem with anxiety. And the please-don't-touch-me-thing is getting out of control; I had a mild breakdown at work the other day). I just need to learn how to deal with it.

So all in all, I'm getting older, more together and frankly, a lot more stupid. Ciao, baby.

*The idea of doing a Thoughts From Places kinda scares me. I might take a camera out from the uni and see if I can do it, but I just can't deal with the thought of describing all these places and why I remember them. But maybe I just need to work through these things to make it happen right, and all that nonsense?

Who takes her contact lenses out before she finds her glasses.
Who remembers her first love with a slight fondness, but mainly with caution.
Who listens to Gallery 47 late at night.
Who looks forward to a day with herself in the big city.
Who gets excited by new camera gear.

I need to find some. I think I know what's going to happen. But I need to think on it.

Also, to make my plan for the year stick I've set aside a few pages in the moleskine. It's only got a few headings and note here and there. So whatever's there, it has to be added to, and then stick to it. I dunno. It'll be longitudinal and I'll scan it in. Maybe monthly?

I don't think I've ever been this frustrated in my life.

I've always been hideously lazy, but this term I am really taking the piss. Not only have I constantly left all my work til the last minute, I have been so inactive in making my own life go anyway. 

I think the problem boils down to the procrastinating nature in me: if I put something off, I feel I will never have to do it. Right now, I've been looking at my bedroom for the past 2 weeks, wondering when I will tidy it. I always have some pathetic excuse for why I am not doing something: I have to clean the dishes. I have to read this book. I have to watch this entire series of shitty american tv. I have to learn how to sort myself out. 

I promise that in the new year, I will make my life go somewhere. I don't have the foggiest what I want to do in life. I know I want to live in Paris for a while, and I know I want to work in fashion photography, but it feels as though I am merely setting myself up for inevitable failure. I have an excuse for why I won't allow myself to reach for anything as well: by setting myself up for failure, I am never disappointed. Not in people, myself, or any situation at hand. I think this mentality shocks some of those I live with, and now I'm shocking myself. When did I become so defeatist? When did I feel so bloody old? I'm nineteen, for god's sake.

I am unattached, with no desire for a boyfriend (in that sense, I am incredibly lucky. I just do not want anyone in my life, because now is the time for me to try to be selfish). I have no job (I fear, anyway). I have 12 hours of university a week, and I can't even make that. I am inherently lazy (relatively speaking, I'm not. I have a job when I have been able to have one. I do not fanny about the place doing fuck all throughout the summer like some of my friends did). All in all, I should have a lot going for me.

I think I need to get out of England. It's my only option. To drop out of university, to get a job, learn to dance, grow plants, and live. I am not living right now. This half state I am in, when a night with American TV is what I look forward to, it not living. I have this life. I should use it. I should ignore my family (right?) and concentrate on living. No, concentrate on Being. I am a human, but I am not being. And there is no sense in that. I am doing the term a disservice. I am an embarrassment to myself. I shall change. I promise. 

I think I shall now call this The Lighthouse Effect. First, a brief explanation on the aforementioned "this".

The "this" is the feelings you get when you hear, smell, think or recall something in conversation. But for me, "this" is that overwhelming sensation that the world is stopping as you're remembering a specific moment in life, in a past life (not all that Karma past life, but a life you once had a few years ago when you were a different person). And this "This" (capitalisation seems to work better) is so completely painful and awful and bittersweet and tainted with a terrible nostalgia. 

The Lighthouse Effect comes from the fact the most vivid "This" is when I sort of noticed the pattern of the Effect happening, when I was listening to The Lighthouse by Interpol. And everything for me stopped. (I swear to God if they play that when I see them with Von Matterhorn I will cry and he will tell me to man up). 

But yes. I've been having that. I wish I had the sense like Nobuyoshi to take photographs of everything. Because some of those moments are completely and utterly beautiful (I'm sure they could be recreated to become some stunning footage) and I feel annoyed that they wont ever happen again. It's like mourning a memory (is that even possible? Is it even normal?). 

I am an awful person with too many issues with too simple a thing.

I was last weighed before the end of May. And then I got weighed 3 months later, and magically 4kg has appeared on me. I shall not stand for this. Cue food diary.