Ignore ignore ignore

In case the title of this post didn’t give you any sort of hint, the thing on my mind today is being ignored. I’m at that stage in life where everyone’s trying to keep up with the speed they ‘should’ be ageing at, but it seems to have just made some people completely different. It’s like they feel like they have to be someone they’re not, not to mention that it’s resulted in my best friend of 7 years drifting away from me. She’s different. Not a bad different, not a good different. Just different. And I guess it’s just something I have to get used to – but how long am I going to be able to cope with being randomly ignored? You could blame it on hormones… or you could take my perspective and assume it to be a completely, undoubtedly personal attack 🙂

 

Take Two

Do you know what one of the reasons I am currently undergoing counselling is? An ex-boyfriend. It makes me feel so pathetic because it’s not like he was abusive (not physically anyway) or cheated… he was just controlling. And at my age, that is something no-one should deal with – not whilst growing up. On a good note, I’ve been feeling fab this last week, just so tired… her attempt at warning me against being busy was in vain as there doesn’t seem to be much I can do to alleviate my workload… *sigh*

Revelation…

So, I have something I feel the urge to admit to you – I’m currently receiving counselling. It’s only for 7 weeks, and I must say that this definitely doesn’t tie in with the title of my blog, ‘How not be a teenager’; I’ve actually learnt that there is no ‘how’. Everyone has their own experiences and curveballs thrown at them, and everyone finds the coping mechanisms that suit them in overcoming these. For me, this was counselling. Don’t get me wrong, this process isn’t easy – it took me a year to recognise that I had a problem that needed solving, and longer still to talk about it in places like these. But it’s really helping me, and I’m starting to feel like my life may finally be coming into shape now. And if you don’t mind, I’d like you to join me on my road to recovery in my next few entries…

Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

The truth is I’m jealous. I’m jealous of the way he looks at her, I’m jealous of the way he talks about her. And after two years of knowing him, of being there for him, and of talking to him, I want that place in his heart… to belong to me. Is this what love feels like? Is love the overwhelming urge to run up to this boy and hug him, tell him that I love him and would never hurt him the way he’s been so badly hurt before? Is love constantly staring my phone willing for it to tell me I’ve received a message from him? Is love crying the moment I feel like maybe he doesn’t care at all, maybe he feels nothing for me? Maybe I’d be just a chapter in his book of sweethearts, maybe it wouldn’t last anyway. But I think it hurts even more to think that maybe, just maybe, it would…

Harry Potter fans, anybody?

So, today, I’ve been to the Harry Potter studios in Leavesden with my family – and yes, it was magical. If you haven’t been already, I’d highly recommend going, (but maybe get there at half 8 like us unless you fancy spending half your time there stationary) because even if you’re not the biggest of fans, it really is just incredible. And, being interested in the writing side of things myself, from the very beginning a quote of hers at the entrance of the studios struck me – it read “No story lives unless someone wants to listen”. What an inspiring woman – I reckon she’d make a good role model for my writing when I’m older. But to see all the sets, all the costumes and props, despite perhaps taking away from the mystery of how the films could be so ‘out of this world’, it just proved how much work and effort was actually put into those films. How many people were involved. So if you do go, grab a butterbeer (tastes like butterscotch, if you’re not a fan I’d get one anyway just to be able to say you’ve tried one), take lots of pictures on the world-famous platform and with various moving broomsticks and objects (don’t ask questions, just accept that this is apparently possible in real life too), and have a great three hours celebrating the childhood icon that is Harry Potter.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go and get myself a hot chocolate and put my feet up in front of where it all began – Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.

I am officially an actress in a horror film!

… OK, all cards on the table, I’m not really… But it feels like I am. For the last two days I’ve been slaving away in the cellar of my dad’s office building, and it doesn’t quite match my definition of fun. My first impression was having to traipse down a long staircase – pitch black, may I add – until a wave of dust hit me and I concluded that I must have reached my destination (… my final destination?) Luckily, I’ve had my older brother for company, and we soon managed to find solace in the tiny window above the fire exit occasionally sending us faint beams of light. The only glimpse of the outside world we had… OK, I admit I may be being a teeeeny bit dramatic right now. But, for someone who has a fear of spiders (yes, it’s pretty bad), to be surrounded by thick charcoal coloured spider webs is really going somewhere. Especially when one the size of Mount Vesuvius decides to prance towards my feet with seemingly no care in the world. To even hear my dad say ‘um, yeah, that’s actually quite a big one’ and to see the sheer look of panic on my brother’s face was enough for me to find comfort in that I apparently wasn’t being stupid for once (for the last three days there has been a spider in my bed – I know, unbelievable – but my dad hasn’t seen evidence yet so thinks I’m just making it up… I hope I’m not, that would be ever so slightly worrying and I may as well sign up for ‘spider therapy’ now). So apart from the everlasting manual labour and it remaining unknown as to what I’m actually getting paid for doing such a job, I’m kind of thinking I’d quite like to resign now. And trust me, if it wasn’t for the money (who else wants to do ‘filing’ in a cellar?), I would.

WORST FEELING

Do you know what the worst feeling is for me? When I’m trying to ring my Grandma and… it just rings. It rings, and it rings, and it rings… and there’s no answer. Bearing in mind she’s 91, I get scared at the thought that something has happened to her or that she can’t get to the phone – especially since two weeks ago. We were on holiday in Canada and trying to ring her, and she didn’t pick up for days. We kept trying, until we got a phone call telling us that she ‘may have’ had a stroke… I was devastated. How would a 91 year old survive having a stroke? That’s all that would go through my mind. Hilariously (or not, depending on how you look at it), we later discovered that she had actually only had a water infection… But she’s been milking it ever since. But that beeping noise as I try and get through to her, that chirpy voice that gets my hopes up at the end before I realise I’ve gone through to voicemail… They are the things that give me strong anxiety. I don’t want to lose my Grandma.

Consider my heart melted

I don’t think I’ve said before, but I’ve started volunteering at my local library, partly because I love books, but also so that it’s something else for me to put on my personal statement. I rocked up today to find a librarian I’d never met before, felt a surge of confidence in just being myself, and pretended like I had a clue how to go about speaking to children about the Summer Reading Challenge. After a few mistakes (which luckily only had to be rectified quickly in my mind), I got the hang of it, and a little boy aged 7 spoke to me about the two Horrid Henry books he’d read in the space of 2 days (an avid reader, it seems!) At first he was shy, but then he happily shared his knowledge with me, and I dared him to try and read ‘How to train your dragon’ as his 6th book. Smiling at his shocked face, (400 pages?!) I inquired as to whether his little brother, playing silently next to us, would be participating in the challenge also, but he said no… before saying innocently “Do you know what autism is? Well, he has that so he’s got to read the really easy books”. And with that, after absorbing the idea that he was quite happily opening his naive heart to a completely random stranger, I realised that this opportunity was going to make my summer as perfect as it could be.

End of an era

Today marked my last shift working at a local cafe, which I have done for a year now. When I was walking out, a man who works ‘upstairs’ as it happens told me that I should be prepared to get out some tissues, and I had to ask him what he meant – I hadn’t even considered that I might be emotional about leaving! It’s definitely been a learning curve, but what with a woman – no, my good ‘friend’ – who unbeknown to me had been stealing from the till for what is believed to have been years – accusing ME of stealing to my boss, and another co-worker actually stealing money from me (and my birthday shift money, too) and then quitting so I couldn’t get it back, and then another member of staff who was often inappropriate, it’s safe to say I’m welcoming this end of era… although I have to admit, I’m sure I’ll be missing the money very soon!