Not Cool Dude

There's a post in my drafts about my week, I just need to add to it when I'm next procrastinating my essay. But this is not about that.

This is about the dude who, when I was walking home from town at midnight made me majorly uncomfortable while probably thinking he was being nice.

News flash: You weren't.

Scene: Midnight, middle of town when I'm about ten minutes away from the lounge I just spent four hours in with the Doctor Who Society. I'm completely sober and about twenty minutes from home.

As I'm walking a guy, about a foot taller than me, walks past and asks if I'm alright.

I say I'm fine.

He then asks if I just finished work.

Now I'm nervous. I know he's probably being polite but it's late and I'm already nervous about the thirty minute walk home. So I reply that I'm just walking home.

To which I get, "No, where were you?"

...Okay, feeling like an interrogation here. "Out". I reply curtly. By now I'm wishing I had had my headphones in so I could have politely ignored this guy.

"Pub or Club?"

Right, this isn't polite. Seriously dude, I'm a young woman walking alone at night. I know you probably think you're being nice but I'm feeling interrogated and you're just making me nervous!

I reply "Lounge." Because it's correct, I wasn't at a pub or club. He, now five metres ahead of me, says something I don't catch and I slow up a bit, letting him get further away. For the rest of the time he's ahead of me, before he turns down a side road, I keep an eye on him.

Why? Because he made me nervous! Piece of advise for guys- late at night, your advances aren't going to come off as anything but nice and friendly (to me at least). The one good thing this guy did was get ahead of me before asking anything- and stayed there. He didn't seem to take my curtness as a hint and for all I know, his last statement to me was something about me being rude.

Which I had every right to be.




Okay word vomit over, I'm just a little worked up (over nothing probably but at the time it was a lot freaky; I spent the rest of the walk home keeping an eye on my surroundings just in case dude decided to follow me instead) and wanted to... vent? I guess. It's probably nothing but urgh, I wish he'd said nothing.

I Am Silent

Seriously. So silent on this blog. I guess I just forget I have it and I'm more used to talking stuff out with my friends anyway than writing it down. I don't even edit beyond a quick check for typos- my entries are usually all stream of consciousness.

But recently I've been doing some work in class on diaries and well, I'm wondering why I'm not keeping one while I'm over here. Admittedly a daily one might get dull (take today's- got up, got on computer, walked to town, came home, got on computer for rest of day) but weekly entries could be interesting? Hell a weekly post on this site might be interesting and give me the chance to at least let people I'm not talking to as much as I used to know what I'm doing.

But then I am awful at diaries so I don't even know.

I do know I adore my social life over here. Weekly hang outs with certain friends, all routine and working. I've watched so much Doctor Who with the society and there's only more to see. In fact, all societies seem to be keeping me busy so that's great. I've not been travelling much but I've a load of time before and after Christmas and in the New Year to get that done- and a railcard to do some of it with.

Also my grant is coming so woo, free money soon! And reading week is next week so I might look into spending a day or two in London at the end of next week. It all depends! I have options!

...Of course now I'm writing this to avoid sleeping so I'm going to go do that.

Update: Nothing to Update

Because nothing is happening to me.

Well, nothing worth updating about. I feel almost like I'm in stasis, waiting for it to be September and for ALL the things to happen to me. But until then, I go to work, I hang around home, I might go see a friend once or twice and for the rest of the time I try not to look like I'm wasting ten hours a day online when I really am.

I'm not bored really... if I was, I would go talk to friends to go do things. But I'm not...interested either? I don't know. It's a tough feeling to describe.

I guess just I want to go have adventures right now. And the waiting is driving me nuts.

You know me?

Twice in the last few days, someone I knew from a very long time ago has recognised me the moment they saw me, name and all. And both times, I've had nothing more than a sense of familiarity until they explained.

The first guy was on the bus home from uni. He greeted me by name as I passed him and I spent three stops staring at him as subtly as I could, trying to place him. Then he came back and sat next to me, explaining that we did Scouts together and it clicked.

Only, I quit Scouts at least five years ago. This guy wasn't in my troop, I think I last saw him six months before I quit. So either he has a really good memory or I've not really changed in five years... Or I'm just recognisable?

Then today a guy came into my work and the moment he saw me he said hi. I instinctively said hi back as, well I'm a waitress if I don't acknowledge you my customer service needs loads of work. But he said it with familiarity and I spent the next 15 minutes trying to place him. Finally I made the connection he looked like a guy from primary school, and upon asking he confirmed my suspicion.

That's eight years-or so- since I last saw this guy. We weren't close friends, barely acquaintances while we were at school but he still knew me.

I don't know if this is just a load of coincidence or just me having a shitty memory to their good ones. Or am I just recognisable?! Just it keeps happening.

Cute? Me?

So recently I was talking with a pair of my friends in a chatroom. I've never met these guys personally, we've only chatted in text based rooms (for the most part, I have had Skype and Pokemon phone calls with both) so they've never seen my face. So we got onto the topic of looking a lot like our siblings and one shared a photo of them with their brother. In return, I shared one of my brother and I.

And this person complimented me. Not like, 'Oh you look lovely' but called me beautiful and just described me as genuinely cute. Bemused at the reaction, I shared the rest of the post that photo was from and got called sexy in one of the photos. At this point the other person in the chat joined in, adding her voice to the chorus of me being pretty.

Well, firstly I cannot describe how good it feels to be described as pretty and beautiful and all those things. I don't wear makeup either and the photos were taken by my brother so I can't excuse away the compliments as being based on that or because the photographer was good. They genuinely liked me.

It's made me realise that every compliment I've gotten, mostly from my parents, has always either been about my face- my eyes are gorgeous, my hair looks great- or said with a qualifier. I would be a very pretty girl, if I lost some weight. You just need to lose some weight and you'll be a very pretty girl. Lose a couple of kilos and you'll look lovely.

Which is...not great for confidence. I want to lose weight but I also want to eat chocolate and at the moment that's causing a conflict where I'm not actually losing weight. It's tiring monitoring every bite you eat and often I cannot be bothered. So I've just been living with the idea that I'm not really pretty, I just exist.

And this chat has rocked my world with the idea that that might not be true.

Day Six

It's about halfway through the time my parents are away for and I'm not sure if I miss them or want them to stay away longer.

On the one hand, I'm really enjoying having the house to myself (practically). I can get up when I want or need to, I can do what I want without having to plan around the possibility they'll need or want me to do something. I can get things done in my own time, without worrying they'll think I'm taking too long and do it themselves while grumbling at me.

But on the other hand, it's exhausting being responsible. I don't know if I'm doing things right, or if I'm forgetting to do anything. My brother is a step away from useless, seemingly capable only of remembering to feed himself and occasionally watch the dog. I'm running the house while trying to also get myself back into the swing of uni and I've no idea if I'm letting things slide through the cracks.

I also think I'm lonely. The house is dead quiet and my brother is always in his room. The dog is only good for company half the time and there's only so much my music can do to chase away the quietness. It's nothing like my usual nights, spent sitting beside a sleeping Dad who, while asleep, is still actually there.

I'll handle it. I've not much of a choice really.

(And in other news, I get to see Benedict Cumberbatch in April and maybe (if they don't sell out) get a photograph with him!!!! So excited.)

Forgetful Goldfish and Personal Admissions

An apt description of myself, one I often use. Basically, I need to remember that I do have this blog and it's able to be used instead of just tracking my friend's blogs with it. (Also idk if you read this but I use everyone as my pillow, it's not a sign I still like you. I don't, you're a much better friend than you were unknowing item of my weird crush)

I think that's the problem. I'm a private person really, as much as I like to share. I love telling people about things but not my thoughts. They're my thoughts, I'll keep them to myself thank you. 

Take for instance my last years of primary school/first years of high school. I cried myself to sleep every night, imagining ways I could kill myself (or dreaming of ways the universe would do it for me). I never told anyone, not until earlier this year when I admitted it to both my brother and my best friend, though my best friend got more details. I just did not know how to say it- how does one bring up in a conversation that they have issues planning for the future because, until recently, they didn't believe they would see 18? That for a while there they thought this early death would happen at their own hands? How could I admit that I thought myself too much of a coward to take what I was raised to believe was the coward's way out?

Well, I guess I'm admitting it now. I don't know how many people read this but it's a start. Semi-anonymous settings for the win. 

I'm not ashamed, I don't think. I still get upset when I remember the worse nights, when the only reason I didn't sneak downstairs to swallow every pill in my parents cupboard was imagining my parents' reaction to finding me dead. My fear of hurting them was stronger than my desire to just be dead. I cannot stress how much I just wanted to be dead- it didn't have to be at my own hand and in fact I honestly believed the universe was going to find a way to make me be dead by 18. 

I have no idea how I got out of this way of thinking. I guess one day I went to sleep knowing that I had not imagined my death for an entire week! That I had friends, actual friends, who cared for me and weren't going to tell me they didn't want to hang out with me (Something that has happened to me at least twice). Now when I imagined my death (which I did still do) I imagined their reactions to my death as well as my family's. One more reason to stay. I turned 18, my god I cannot stress how much turning 18 helped. Knowing I had made it, against imagined odds I'll admit but still against odds, was such a huge boost. I have things to live for, some of them silly but most of them not.

I've not imagined myself dying, planning out every detail of how it would happen and how my family would feel, in a very long time. It's a good feeling. Sure I still have gloomy thoughts but never do I go to sleep at night crying after imagining how the car trip tomorrow will kill me.

I think it's fitting I'm seeing 2013 out with this admission. It's something I've wanted to say for a long time but never had the words. I don't know if I've got the words now but it's a start. 

Don't judge me, I'm happy now. 

Compliments and Shirts

To begin, I love fandom shirts. I adore the variety they add to my wardrobe, the colours they usually come in and most of all the delight I get walking around with something I love on my shirt. It's a great feeling and I've shirts for almost everything I like- from Doctor Who to How to Train Your Dragon and even Discworld. Wearing them is a thing I do and I do it often.

I also get comments on them. Something to be expected, people like these things too, and well part of the joy in wearing these shirts is when people comment and we strike up a conversation. I've talked to some lovely people because of it.

But it's nearly always girls who comment. Nearly always, I can recall one time a guy complimented my shirt but it's an anomaly. Don't get me wrong, I don't particularly care either way if it's a guy or girl commenting, I'm not wearing these shirts in search of a date or anything and someone commenting is always lovely regardless of sex. It's just...odd?

I really just want to figure out why it's like this. Is it because of the make up of my class is mostly female? But I've gotten comments from passerbys so it's not that. Is it because I only look open to compliments when women are nearby? But I've been reading books when I've gotten a comment, so it's not that either.

Do guys just not comment on this kind of thing?