0

Two Weeks’ Notice

Photo: Elite Daily

After half-term, I will have just one week until I do crazy happy-dancing as I will no longer be obligated to call myself an A-Level student. I’m happy. And relieved. The first half 2013 seems to have dragged in a way I had not anticipated. Even as exams approached, time seemed to stagnate instead of fly by which is much more unsettling on the soul than one would think.

The finish line is so close and this is where my lethargy leaves me and I end the race in style. As you may know, I re-took an entire year of Sixth Form to improve my grades. In these last moments, I’m eager to make sure another year was worth it. Lord knows I’ve had to put up with much this year and I really want my results to be the silver lining of an otherwise unspectacular venture.

So here’s to two weeks’ of coffee-fuelled, late night binge studying. And cranky mornings!

0

Hashtag: Christian Problems

Photo: Footagez

One of my biggest and most persistent problems is spiritual stagnation.

I grew up in a theistic household but I wouldn’t say we were devoted. Heck, the only guarantee that you’d hear a prayer at our dinner table was if there were guests. When I went off to boarding school, aged ten, I became very religious. I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal saviour and become involved in a strong, Christian culture at my school. In my last year, I started to have a crisis of faith; not necessarily in my belief in God (I almost never call God’s existence into question) but I think I developed a certain apathy concerning all matters of spirituality.

I was already feeling the emptiness which comes with backsliding but when I had to confront my sexuality a few years back, I found myself spiralling even further. My bisexuality was something that was difficult for me to deal with and I still find it hard. Even though I know God loves me, I have doubts about my sexuality and whether it’s something I can really reconcile with my faith.

In the last two years, social justice issues have become very important to me. True equality for my fellow women, my queer brethren as well as racial minorities are causes very near and dear to my heart. I find most Christians and their views on these subjects (especially homosexuality) very problematic [Sidenote: I smirk to myself every time I say that because I use that word so often now].

I know what the bible says but I do not agree. My research and reflection have made me question whether the bible is truly infallible. Let me phrase that better; I don’t think that it is the most absolute guide on how we, as christians, must regard women, queer people and minorities. I know this is up for debate and I’m very open to discussion but let me also add this: all those years before, even before accepting my orientation, I had problems with these issues. Something about it just doesn’t feel right. But now, my stance on the issues of social justice feel right (even if I have to question myself from time to time).

These issues aside, I just feel very distant from God. Even without the worries about my queer status, I am still a bad Christian. I don’t attend church because I feel apathetic towards doing so (also see: me finding most Christians problematic). I hardly read the bible. I don’t pray that often any more – it’s once a day if I can even bother to remember. When I do, I ask for God to forgive my sins (while fully intending to sin again); I ask God to protect my family and bless them; and I give (basic) thanks. I don’t even ask God for things I want any more because I feel unworthy. As if God is a peer with whom I’ll feel that I owe if I attempt to ask for anything.

The root of my problem is kind of rooted in the sexuality thing, I feel. Can I really attempt to get closer with God again with my orientation being as it is? I don’t know. I am riddled with doubt and I can’t seem to get past that.

I am afraid and I don’t really know how to move forward – I haven’t for a while. I want to become a spiritual person again. God is important to me. Jesus Christ is important to me. My faith is important to me. I want to find my salvation again – I need to.

PS: Any comments/advice are appreciated! I’d love to hear from you.

2

Jello

Kid with a mean face

The greatest cosmic injustice, as far as I can tell, is that I wasn’t born filthy rich. I’d be the perfect rich person. I already have the qualities for it – I’m super lazy, I’m tall and I have this weird, inexplicable, superiority complex and the most appalling of personalities. I also have a small penis. Well, a mental penis – I have a small mental penis.

I don’t quite know what to do with this delusional sense of entitlement. Except be a huge bitch of course.

There’s this episode of the crime show Bones that I watched recently. The victim is some mean boss lady who kind of deserved to die (I guess). Everyone hated her. Nobody missed her. That could be me. I could be the mean (probably not even) boss lady who nobody misses after dying a gruesome death.

I’m starting to think I may not be as complicated as I have led myself to believe. I keep trying to find reasons for why I’m so spiteful right now. I mean, I’m not saying that I’ve been all sunshine and rainbows the rest of the year but I feel that, at this particular time, I am being excessively venomous (and that’s saying something).

So maybe I’m not complex, maybe there is no why. Perhaps I’m just a really bad person and I’m looking for an excuse. Maybe I’m not Crème brûlée hideously disguised as Jello. Maybe I’m just Jello.

I feel all this darkness seeping out of me and I don’t know how to stop myself. It’s a silly conundrum, I feel. It shouldn’t be that hard to pretend that I am obnoxiously angelic in that horrible way manic pixie dream girls are (looking at you Jess Day/Zooey Desch.) I mean, my whole life is a game of charades. Everything I do (outside of my house) is performative. Even this blog, to an extent, is performance.

So why can’t I just fake it till I make it?

[Image via: Flickr]

0

Tolstoy and Browning – My Terrible Lovers

I hate reading. I really do. My favourite book so far, Cloud Atlas, took me months to read. I was entranced and hypnotised. It’s so beautiful and important. I love it so much, and I feel profoundly changed by it. And yet, I absolutely hated reading it.

How about that? A writer who hates reading. Have you ever heard of anything more ridiculous?

I don’t know why I hate reading. Because, really, I love it. I like the intimacy, between you and author; sharing who they are with you, if only for a bit. It’s a love affair. It’s going to end, sure, but love doesn’t have to be permanent to be real.

Oh, but it’s so taxing, LOVE. So demanding of attention, and emotion, and all of you. Leave everything darling to be with me. But only for a little while. When I am done with you, I am done. But for now, give me everything because nothing else will do.

Books are so fucking selfish. Maybe that’s why I don’t like reading. Or maybe I am lazy. Maybe I don’t like the long paragraphs. I don’t like to pay attention.

Tolstoy is a nightmare. I cannot love him, I don’t think. My goodness. Just two – a mere two – of his shortened fiction have put me off him for life. I will never read War and Peace now – the idea of it all, I cannot bear it. Ugh, and Browning; I mean, I don’t even like poetry that much but jeez – this is not a man I want to jump into bed with.

Maybe that’s why I hate reading. If I don’t fall completely and madly in love, then I have wasted time. I hate wasting time. Do you hear that? Tolstoy and Browning are wasting my precious time. I must leave them now. What a terrible mistress I am.

1

Am I an Idiot?

One time I went looking for Alex Day in Great Yarmouth. After hours of a harsh, rainy wind and being completely lost, I came upon the elusive store that Alex was holding the signing. He wasn’t there. I was too late. All of this happened to me because I can’t read a map.

I am an idiot.

One time I was going back to my house from the city. I waited for the bus and got on it only to realise that I’d been standing on the wrong side of the road; I was being driven in the wrong direction. So there I was, sat in a bus alone (at least I remember it this way), riding in an unfamiliar part of the city. When the bus got back to the stop I’d gotten on from, I got off.

I am an idiot.

One time I travelled to Peterborough. I got my tickets from the ticket machine and went off into W.H. Smith because I don’t travel unless I have a crazy load of junk food and water (hashtag: diet). The guy at the barriers stopped me. I’d forgotten one of my reservation tickets in the machine. There’s no way to travel without them. He told me they’d been calling my name through the tannoy for ten minutes. I didn’t hear.

I am an idiot.

One time Yesterday, I was supposed to be on the 9:30 train to London. I was late. Well, my bus was late which through my whole schedule off. I should have gotten an earlier bus. Anybody else would have gotten an earlier bus.

I am an idiot.

In my rush not to miss the train, I forgot my bank card on the ticket machine (always with the ticket machine!). The funniest part? I had already missed the train.

I am an idiot.

While trying to navigate the London Underground, I got lost (love you LDN but your transportation is equal parts scary and crazy confusing). I got on the first train that came to the platform delaying me a further 20 minutes.

I am an idiot.

 

0

Chopped Liver


Image Via

Guess who’s decided to crawl out of their little corner of melodrama? Ten points if you guessed me; a night in the dungeon if you didn’t (well, who else would it be?). I’ve decided to try and cheer up now or at least successfully distract myself enough to think I’m all cheered up.

I’m going to see Side Effects this evening. I’m going with a very dubious character I met on the internets. His name is Carlos Esteves. I only tell you this because I feel like I’m walking into a Ted Bundy situation (yes, I am referencing Girls). I mean, he’s a great guy and everything but his thoughts on genocide are a little disturbing plus he has weird facial hair and baby blue eyes i.e. tell-tell signs that a person is a serial killer!

Just in case, I want you to know I love you guys.

I’m just kidding. I care very little if at all for any of you. Also, and this is important, I’m going to see the movie by myself (hashtag: ForeverAlone/AngasaStyle). I’ll be sure to let you guys know if someone yells at me for crying too loud or if anyone gives me a judge-y glance when I retrieve my giant bag of popcorn.

Love you not,

Me xoxo

0

Mustang

The only reason I’m hurting so bad is because my delusions aren’t powerful enough to distract me from my miserable life any more. These are the kinds of things I tell myself in the hope that I can be inspired to do something to change my near hopeless predicament – but I got nothing.

Maybe everything you’re feeling can go on paper, I say to myself, forgetting momentarily that I’m very terrible at doing that. And then I remember. I have never felt so powerless. A few years ago I thought I’d felt the greatest pain I would ever feel in life (thanks dad) and perhaps I was right, but what I’m feeling now comes pretty damn close.

In a turn of events that will shock no one (especially not you dear friend), I have realised that I am weak; mentally, physically, emotionally — and I am tired. So tired. I am always tired. And I can’t win. No one taught me how and now it’s too late to teach myself how. I surrender to all the greater forces. You win. I can’t fight you. How can I? I am entirely useless.

And besides, how are you supposed to win a game that’s rigged? You can’t.

I have failed myself. I should have known not to dream the way I did. I was so foolish. More than anything, I feel ashamed at that. I feel sad that I could have done better, that I didn’t. I feel sad that I didn’t know how.

I have nothing. I am nothing.

Please don’t feel sorry for me – I did this to myself. And the only thing your pity will do is encourage me to play the victim when I was the perpetrator for my fall. I accept the responsibility for my actions and for this failure.

It’s such a sad day when you wake up and the clouds have no silver linings…