Who is this raucous, confident, attractive being who has just waltzed into an otherwise dull class? How come she has a louder and more eccentric dress sense than me? How come she knows EVERYONE, yet I've never seen her before? She is brilliant in the purest sense; bright, and her intelligence stands out way beyond what she realises. She flirts, perhaps too much, because she knows it means she'll get her own way. Perhaps the loudest dirty laugh I've ever heard. I put her on a pedestal, yet, she noticed me. Just me. That was great.
In the pokey old office of SPARC
At the mercy of Emily Clark
She claims "I'm a mushroom!
I must be a mushroom
I'm fed shit and kept in the dark!"
Cannot cope with Emily today.
When I first met you, you intrigued me. Now, you just infuriate me. You don't want me here, I don't want to be here, but we're both stuck here. So please shut up. Please.
My adoring, adorable husband of six months, and the most important person in my life for the past six years. Inspiring, mysterious in some ways, interesting always. Crap at lying or hiding things from me, cheeky, never afraid to voice his views and debate with me, stubborn, but not argumentative. Lovely long hair. Occasionally obsessive, geeky maybe, but always passionate about everything he does; ambitious and unashamed. Loves eternally and unconditionally, romantic, forgiving, understanding, loyal, tender, sexy and amazing. The sort of person I feel blessed to have in my life. "Me = Cute"as he says.
My dearest Choufleur fulfils many different roles in my life, not that she knows it. Or maybe she does. My loyal, eternal best friend, the ex-love of my life, something close to being like my sister, part of the furniture, my conscience, my voice of reason, and also my partner in crime, my wild side, my confidant, and my antithesis. Endlessly fascinating, yet I know her inside out.
My dear, I still would've noticed you in town yesterday, even if you hadn't worn your nicely obvious giant multi-coloured bobble hat. Doh. Inconspicuousness is not something you do well, darling.
Shooby-dooby-doo, where are you? Possibly the most scatty person I know, and the exact opposite of anyone I thought I would be friends with. The posh-voiced, public school educated, upper middle-class Tory. Get her drunk (she never touches lager, of course) and she will vehemently defend fox hunting, or debate capitalism until the small hours, never budging an inch from her traditionalist standpoint. She even dresses conservatively, preferring Ãƒâ€šÃ¢â‚¬Ëœstyle' to fashion, and of course, everything is designer labels. She is a complete oddity to me, she comes from a totally different world. As such, I love her to bits.
You really know how to mess with my head, and I think your talents in that department largely depend on the fact your own head is a mess too. Random memories: "When I grow up, I want to be a lesbian.- "Happiness is a bra called Gossard.- and "Call me Grant, the wonder-chick!- You abused me and amused me, often simultaneously. You preferred the world inside your head to the world of mere mortals, at least until you realised there wasn't room for two. And you still know you can call me whenever you're in need. Much love, girly.
How best to describe Paula? Hyperactive! It's strange to think I only met her in October, I get on with her so well it feels like I've known her years. We share a sarcastic, sick sense of humour, and a certain "understanding"of life, born of hours slagging off growing up in the south-east. She always has loads of energy, and works every hour of the day, diligently, compulsively and far too hard at times. She exists entirely off weed and coffee, and seems to radiate determination. She is also the one friend of mine totally grounded in reality.
Ãƒâ€šÃ‚Â¿Como esta mi espaÃƒÆ'Ã‚Â±ol hoy? Creo que no esta fantastico ahora, no tengo el tiempo o la opportunidad a practicar. Entonces, voy a escribir una descripcion de mi hermana adoptiva, en Castellano. Aqui esta:
Allison es una chica muy amable, hablando siempre y felizmente. Tiene un habito de usado el diminuitivo - todos sus palabritas terminan con "-ito."A veces, me molestra, pero se aparace muy extraÃƒÆ'Ã‚Â±ita, lindita, y dulcita. Ella es alta y delgada, como su madre, y tiene cejas grandisimas y obscuro, exacto en el centro de su cara, con ojos marrones bonitos abajo. Se extraÃƒÆ'Ã‚Â±o, muchisimo.
Jen does much for my ego. Slim, blonde, very attractive and with huuuuuuuuge breasts, (not that I notice these things of course) but seems unaware of her good looks. She is also very keen on theatre, and for some misguided reason, she looks to me for help, supervision and general theatrical expertise, which I obviously fake on a regular basis to keep her entertained. I love her enthusiasm and creativity, and also her ambition. She is not afraid to try new things, which is a rare talent within Durham student theatre. Not for her the endless Shakespeare rehashes. Yay!
We've only recently got in touch again, but she was my best friend for nearly a decade. I met her when we first moved to Kent, when I was three. We were inseparable at primary school, giggling incessantly, and singing invented songs about scrambled eggs(!). We used to get up on stage at every opportunity, from performing Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes at school, to religiously attending a drama club at weekends. We always planned on becoming a professional comedy duo. Another decade later, she is at Art College studying Ãƒâ€šÃ¢â‚¬Ëœmake-up for film', and I work with Gypsies. What happened?
Very bizarre to see him again. I always think of him as Laura's little brother, yet he's now well over 6' and, at 21, not that much younger than me. To me, he'll always be the 14year-old wannabe Goth, incredibly lanky with long greasy hair, dyed black. He always tagged along to my mad, teenage parties to watch his big sister and friends disgrace themselves, and to admire our tortoises. Now though, he is far less lanky and gawkish, friendly, chatty and has a girlfriend who reminds me of me when I was 17. Scary. Made me feel old.
One of Laura's friends from Central St. Martin's, introduced to me yesterday as "the Lebanese Goth-. I thought at first she was really tall and skinny, and then looked down to see the most fantastic boots - 6"rubber platforms, complete with springs and bolts protruding through the soles, and plenty of straps and clamps all the way up her legs. It looked like quite a sophisticated balancing act to walk in them. She also has aqua-blue streaks in her black hair, and paints on her own eyebrows (also blue). I can understand why she's now Laura's New Special Friend.
Blue and melancholy, Frank is a true hermit. Shunning company, he spends all day in his self-made cave, contemplating the world with his beady little eyes. He usually only comes out to shake a threatening claw at his nuisance neighbours, or to scavenge for his meagre dinner of chicken and mushy peas. But as soon as the lights go down, then he is in his element. Shedding his formidable outer skin, he is free to dance the night away, jiving on all of his eight legs. Because of course, Frank is not just a lobster, he's a Rock Lobster!
Good ole' Commie Tom, instantly recognisable as he lopes round Durham, seemingly all elbows and legs. Long hair in a pony tail, and "artistic"goatee; he's actually quite good looking if you can see past the lankiness and the self-defined "revolutionary"image. Why do those trying to fight the system, anti-war protesters, left-wing agitators, or in this case, Marxists, always dress in scruffy khaki combats and black t-shirts? The sort of clothes you get in Army Surplus stores. Army surplus, as in, the militia that symbolise and uphold the system they are battling against? Never have understood that one.
"Keep on kicking jerks and running off the rails
Keep on picking dirt from underneath your fingernails
Cos I'm not worried about your state of mind
You're not the revolutionary kind
Keep on in the jungle with your technicality
Keep on laughing Ãƒâ€šÃ¢â‚¬Ëœbout your chemical duty-free
Cos I'm not worried about your state of mind
You're not the revolutionary kind
Keep on whistle-blowing, tearing down the sign
Keep on dancing, dancing, dance with everyone
You're not the revolutionary kind-
Man, where are you? And why am I sooooo crap at keeping in touch with you? You are only in Newcastle, its not far... I feel bad. The last news I heard on the grapevine was that you'd quit your crappy job in the clothes shop, but had no other job to go to. And you've applied to VSO. All very spontaneous and adventurous and somewhat un-Sophie-like. Sounds like you are having a bit of a freak out, my dear. Mind you, I can totally understand and empathize. Crappy jobs can do that to a girl. Its called February.
Random emails from her "boyfriend"has made me think of her. Boyfriend isn't the right word, I'd hardly describe Mike as a "boy-, him being 20 years older than her. Still, each to their own. And at risk of sounding patronising, he's doing her a lot of good. Caz was always the wild child, loud, silly at times, melodramatic like the rest of us, very confident, but impatient. Another one of the collection of good friends I've neglected in recent years, and in that time, she's done some serious growing up. I think/hope she's met her match in Mike.
Last night I again achieved the higher state of unconsciousness which I've only reached once before. When you are mentally asleep, but some part of your brain enables you to keep talking. I felt myself pass-out but apparently continued the conversation. The first time this happened was Hilary's fault- a result of exhaustion, dope, noise and mixed drinks. Not things that used to be associated with Hilary, she was always the sensible, teetotal one, verging on asexual. Then, she subtly and silently rebelled, and unlike the rest of us, became someone no-one ever expected her to be. Mucho respecto.
The better you are at perceiving other people's reactions and emotions, the more emotionally mature you are, apparently. Well, I couldn't tell if the interviewers liked me or not. Like before, as soon as I got there and met everyone, I became even more determined that I REALLY WANT THIS JOB. No spectacular cock-ups, the hardest thing to answer was "where do you see yourself in ten years time?"(I didn't say any of the honest answers, like still bumming round South America with a serious coca addiction or something.) I REALLY WANT THIS. PLEASE. Getmeouttahere!!!