In which Demi has had the lurgy. Ick.

Apologies for the delay, I've been moping about with an awful flu-y cold, which I subsequently passed onto my housemates, to their extreme joy. Sorry guys!

SO, the main news is that I've arrived back at Nottingham, and started up at my final (proper) term at University. It's so bizarre. I'm frantically compiling lists of companies to apply to, thinking of final essays and worrying about 21st birthdays. Third year is more exhausting than the other two years combined, but it's hard to pinpoint why - I have less hours, and fewer modules. But everything means an awful lot more. Even time spent socializing is precious, as I'm becoming more and more aware that my life here is reaching its end. Every day spent in the company of my friends and housemates may be something I take for granted now, but I know that come September I will be feeling like I'm missing a piece of myself.

Cheery!

Anywho, my modules are all interesting (hurrah! That's all six this year, I knew it would happen eventually that I'd at least be interested in everything I'm studying!), even if my tutor in Cognitive Poetics enjoyed making me the subject of all of his examples today when I got cornered into the only free seat at the desk, next to him. Lets face it, it's not every day that an eminent professor of Cognitive Poetics uses you to highlight and discuss his own theories.

The university magazine arrived yesterday, and my head is filled with deadlines, appointments and schedules of distribution. Everything's fallen apart a little bit, as my co-manager seems to have decided that the job's just too much hassle in her already busy third year. Hopefully we'll still manage to get the issue out by the end of the week, and plan the next social. By popular demand (and slight fear of what would happen to me if I object against it...) we're doing lazerquest, which should actually be really fun now that the committee is much closer, with real friendships forming parallel to our working relationships.

I've been trying to reign in my sudden and inexplicable desire to splurge on new make-up. I know I don't need anything. Not really. Especcially after my Christmas haul.

The best make-up remover EVER (Gatineau Floracil) and my gorgeous hat-box of Bare Escentuals make-up (blush, Mineral Veil, 2x eye shadows, eyeliner, lip colour and brush).

Stunning Vogue calender, which I think I will be saving for my room redecoration; the photos are so pretty I think I'll cut it up and frame them.

Mother of Pearl jewellery hanger, again for impending redecoration.

This term's reading for Post 1950's Literature, and the novel at the bottom was one I used for my essay. I went through an entire stack of post-its on the two novels I wrote about. Ridiculous!

L-R: a-England's Tristam and Perceval, Boots base coat, Nail's Inc magnetic polishes in Trafalger Square, Big Ben and Houses of Parliament.

I treated myself to Tristam and Perceval, as post-exam treats, and I'm sooooo happy. They're both stunningly pigmented colours, and the formula was silky smooth.

Excuse the quality of my cuticles! I cite essay stress!Tristam is flecked with iridescent holographic particles, and adds a touch of mystery to this lovely denim-y blue.

[Sorry about the photo quality, I need practice clearly.]

And in other news, I went on my first date in almost three years the other day. It was... bizarre. It was such a normal set-up (met a guy in a bar, chatted, kissed, exchanged numbers, then he actually got in touch to arrange a date) that I was almost confused. I've never had a 'normal' set-up when it comes to meeting guys; it tends to be me developing a massive crush on a friend suddenly, or meeting someone in a somewhat bizarre fashion. As sweet as he was, I simply wasn't feeling the chemistry, but it was a lovely evening nonetheless (and gave my friends something to enjoy vicariously. I'm pretty sure a few of them were more excited than I was about it!)

On the plus side, it's made me realise that I do really like a guy I've had a vague crush on, and as a result I've decided to try and do something about it! Wish me luck... xo.

In which Demi gets a wake-up call

Every so often, reality gets up and smacks me in the face and wakes me up. Today was one of those moments. My facebook snooping got me the answer I assumed, and yet I still reared back in shock.

The kind of shock that jolts you like a bucket of cold water, and makes you go 'Holy hell, look what you almost got messed up in.' Step away from the edge, sharpish.

So I've retreated, and something seems to have settled in place within me, and I think that's it. For now at least. Cutting off my attachments, slowly but surely. Until you can drift free completely.

I'm focusing on what I can control for now. I can't control other people, nor death, nor my feelings fully. So I'm focusing on things like my mid-terms essays (not flowing as easy as my plan and research would indicate, but when do they ever?) and rebuilding a bridge with a friend that I'd been prepared to burn. I guess that's what last chances are for.

Current work playlist:
Misery - Maroon 5
Stereo Hearts - Gym Class Heroes ft. Adam Levine
We Found Love - Rihanna ft. Calvin Harris (me and my housemate have been singing this on repeat recently ♥)
Lets Kill Tonight, New Perspective and Ready To Go - Panic! at the Disco
I Won't Let You Go - James Morrison
Tron Soundtrack
Ed Sheeran's whole album.

Oh, and because I haven't posted any of the photos yet, here's a little taste of the chaos that ensued last Monday on the 7-legged Bar Crawl :) xo.

Our theme was 'Sins in the City', and we decided to do a twist on them all; as 'Pride', I decided to spice things up by going as Gay Pride, which basically involved a lot of bright clothes and some awesome make-up!

Sloth (literally), Gluttony and Wrath.

Wrath, Pride, Sloth, Gluttony and Envy

The whole bunch of us :)

The 'being attached' part didn't last very long this year...

♥

Letter #6: Someone That Pesters Your Mind - Good or Bad

A/N: Late, irrelevant and angry, I know. But this is all I can hash out right now. Bad language ahoy, by the way. Avoid if you wish.

~*~

30 LETTERS PROMPTS:
- Your Best Friend;
- Your Crush;
- Your Parents;
- Your Sibling (or closest relative);
- Your Dreams;
- A Stranger;
- Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush,
- Your Favorite Internet Friend;
- Someone You Wish You Could Meet;
- Someone You Don't Talk to as Much as You'd Like to;
- A Deceased Person You Wish You Could Talk To;
- The Person You Hate the Most/Caused You a Lot of Pain;
- Someone You Wish Could Forgive You;
- The Person You Miss the Most;
- Someone You've Drifted Away From;
- Someone That's Not in Your State/Country;
- Someone From Your Childhood;
- The Person That You Wish You Could Be;
- Someone That Pesters Your Mind - Good or Bad;
- The One That Broke Your Heart the Hardest;
- Someone You Judged by Their First Impression;
- Someone You Want to Give a Second Chance to;
- The Last Person You Kissed;
- The Person That Gave You Your Favorite Memory;
- The Person You Know That is Going Through the Worst of Times;
- The Last Person You Made a Pinky Promise to;
- The Friendliest Person You Knew For a Day;
- Someone That Changed Your Life;
- The Person That You Want to Tell Everything to, But Too Afraid to;
- Your Reflection in the Mirror.

~*~

-C.

I can’t be ‘the bigger person’ right now. Despite the fact that I always am. Despite the fact that I have been whenever something happens. Anything. I’m always the bigger person. I always make the sacrifice. I always remember. I always care. For anyone, not just you.

But I can’t be the bigger person right now. Because I am basically in the same place as I was last year. And I don’t want to be here. I’ve done this before, and I really, really don’t want to have to do this again.

When you said you wanted out of us I accepted that. Regardless of my nature, it’s not like I really had a choice. You’d already gone ahead without me. So I accepted this, and stood back, and let you sweep past me into the sunset with your new girl.

So how dare you think you can put me through more of this bullshit. How dare you flirt with me. How dare you want to text to me when your girlfriend of almost a fucking year is sleeping right beside you. How dare you remind me of what could have been. Of what should have been.

How dare you say we could have worked, when you were the one to end things.

Hindsight sure is a wonderful thing. Because I am a good person. And we have chemistry. And I have to forcibly stamp down on every damn butterfly that takes flight when I see you through the frosted panes of my front door. And maybe you’re right; maybe we could have worked.

But what gives you the right to jerk me around? Is it because you know I’ll go along with it? You know I only put up a half-hearted fight? Because you know that I will always care for you in some capacity, because you were the first boy to make me think I’d finally found It?

I am exactly where I was one year ago. Checking my phone constantly. Counting the days since I have heard from you. Thinking about you whenever my mind’s not already occupied. Of course, there are new additions. Feeling sick when I realise it’s been a year you’ve been with her. Wanting to smash something when I think of you two loved up in Rome, or wherever you’re going in the summer.

I don’t want to do this. And if you would let yourself admit it, you know what you’re doing is wrong.

I could handle being friends. I couldn’t handle flirtation and talk of the past. So why did you do it? When will you realise that you can’t keep chasing what you don’t have? Jobs, shifts, cars, girls – we are not toys to be traded in when you get bored!

So grow up and decide what the fuck you want. Until then, leave me alone. Because I was fine. I genuinely was. And now I’m not. And it’s your fucking fault.

-D.

Letter #4: Your Ex-bf/gf/crush

30 LETTERS PROMPTS:
- Your Best Friend;
- Your Crush;
- Your Parents;
- Your Sibling (or closest relative);
- Your Dreams;
- A Stranger;
- Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush,
- Your Favorite Internet Friend;
- Someone You Wish You Could Meet;
- Someone You Don't Talk to as Much as You'd Like to;
- A Deceased Person You Wish You Could Talk To;
- The Person You Hate the Most/Caused You a Lot of Pain;
- Someone You Wish Could Forgive You;
- The Person You Miss the Most;
- Someone You've Drifted Away From;
- Someone That's Not in Your State/Country;
- Someone From Your Childhood;
- The Person That You Wish You Could Be;
- Someone That Pesters Your Mind - Good or Bad;
- The One That Broke Your Heart the Hardest;
- Someone You Judged by Their First Impression;
- Someone You Want to Give a Second Chance to;
- The Last Person You Kissed;
- The Person That Gave You Your Favorite Memory;
- The Person You Know That is Going Through the Worst of Times;
- The Last Person You Made a Pinky Promise to;
- The Friendliest Person You Knew For a Day;
- Someone That Changed Your Life;
- The Person That You Want to Tell Everything to, But Too Afraid to;
- Your Reflection in the Mirror.

~*~

Dear C.,

You always say how sorry you are, and how bad you feel about what happened between us, whenever 'us' comes up. And I'm glad. Happy, even. And if that makes me malicious or vindictive, then I don't really care. Because you deserve to feel bad after what you did to me. You built me up, gave me confidence, made me feel like finally - finally - my time had come. That it was my turn to find someone special.

Only for you to trip me at that last hurdle, with summer finally in sight, and sent me limping off the track.

Admittedly, I have a part to play in it as well. My pedestal-installing, worshiping tendencies emerged, blowing all of the sweet, kind things that you did or said to me (and there were lots) up from normal behaviour to the kind of things that songs are sung about, pictures painted, movies made to capture.

[I really should try and reign in my imagination when it comes to boys. It's not the first time it has stirred trouble.]

But still... no amount of hero-worship or sheer infatuation (damn butterflies) could forgive your sheer... capriciousness towards me. I should have taken it - us - as nothing more than a summer fling, reminiscent of Sandy and Danny's ideal summer. And, like in Grease, when term started and I left for Uni, reality settled in; our summer romance was gone. That boy who I'd met - who made my knees weak and genuinely made me want to call up the Uni and tell them I was taking a gap year - wasn't there. I don't know what happened in the week I was in Italy at the end of summer, but that was it. I broke the spell. That enchantment that was so dependent on me and you being here, together, now. Even at Christmas, something was different... but I pushed that feeling aside to throw myself all-in for a second attempt.

Fool me once, shame on you

Fool me twice, shame on me

It's been seven months since I've seen you. Hard to believe it, but true. I still have your sad (and hungover) smile imprinted in my mind as I stumbled out the door, still dazed from our last kiss and wondering how I was now going to manage to drive. I think I even tripped down the steps. How embarrassing.

It's been six months that you've been with her instead. I remind myself of this when the length of time doesn't seem real. Six months is so concrete.

At the end of the day, I don't regret getting involved with you, or even how it played out, even if it could have ended a lot better. I learnt a lot about myself and what I need in a guy. I need to be able to depend on him, the way I never could on you.

So we'll be friends, since you're apparently oh-so desperate to be. But don't push your luck.

--D. xo

Boy Meets Girl

Why can it not be this easy for me? Why now? And why him?

[I realise this seems to totally be counteractive to the last post. And I am not happy]

In which Demi muses about 'teams'.

And I'm not talking about the sports variety.

Team Edward .vs. Team Jacob. Team Jolie .vs. Team Aniston. Team Me .vs. Team Her.

[ This made me giggle. Source. ]

It's hard not to compare yourself to others, whether it be physically, academically - even in terms of meaningless material items. I thought I'd finally cracked it though; there's no point comparing yourself to others, there are only variations of self. If I say I'm not happy with my weight or figure, then I mean it in comparison to how I was at another time, not Keira Knightly for God's sake. Not once in my life, even as a scrawny pre-teen, can I say I boasted her figure. I have hips for starters, and I'm about 6 inches shorter. That's life.

Even at university, I'd finally come around to understand that there's only your own achivements to compare yourself to. It's not high school; there aren't top sets and bottom sets, there isn't a Gifted and Talented group or Prefects to proudly be part of. We're all some of the brightest minds in the country, and for once I am not the best at what I do. English is a particularly subjective subject - I might be lucky, for all I know. Maybe if my Lit exam had been marked by someone else they would have seen straight through my expansive vocabulary and complex sentences and realised I hated the bloody book and taken a dislike to the essay.

It's funny how things can shift. One day, one hour, one minute, one action... that's all it takes. Suddenly things tip over from being perfectly fine to slowly disintigrating. I try not to regret anything I do. I realise that I am only one small player within the much bigger game, and at the end of the day there's only so much I can do. Do your best, what seems right at the time. I guess I can't begrudge others for doing the same.

At the same time... I still wish things had happened differently. I guess my Team just couldn't compete. 3 strikes and I was out.

Until the next game at least. xo.