[It’s not gonna be] May

It wasn’t.

In this post, I talked about how shit 2016 had been up until then. I hoped & wondered whether May would bring better things – really, whether I would just get my shit together.

This post is a report back. A failed mission report.mission

 

We begin with a vision board in the middle of the month. I am already broke, and the remaining R400 in my account is money I owe to people. I fight with people on the internet, and annoy everyone who is friends with me on facebook by doing what I’m supposed to do on twitter, as I’ve been told.giphy

The blow-by-blow accounts of my days get semi ridiculous because I become aware of how pathetic I sound. I meet a girl from my high school on campus, and she greets me with “I thought you dropped out because you’re always crying.”. Nice. Lemme tell you something, fellas: If a person dropped out every time I cried for more than an hour there is NO WAY universities would be a thing. Honestly. They’d give up. I’d rob them of their business and they wouldn’t even see it coming.

I receive an email from a follower in Germany, and am asked where I get the inspiration to write the characters in the stories that I tell on my blog. I ask, confused, which stories? I am told, “all of them but mostly the ones with the bad luck and epic fails”. Ah. I see. My dear friend is unaware of the unfortunate non-fiction nature of my mishaps that I recount on here. I give them the news that despite the events seeming like jokes, I am the joke, and the events are true. The reply reads, “Oh man that is tough but still funny! Viel Glück!”. It’s my favourite email I’ve received so far.

On the topic of emails: my phone stops receiving my school emails. I log in at my computer and see that I have missed five announcements concerning my philosophy exam. Excefuckinglento. I’m too stressed to physically act upon my stress for the upcoming exam. I decide I don’t need to go to school for almost a week because I don’t have to, and then that I’ve earned five days off from studying.

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Two days before my exam, I become painfully aware that I was not deserving of those off-days.

I fight with a boy because he believes that I should put his preference of me, and women in general, wearing fancy bras, over my argument that I don’t like wearing a bra some days (because I can’t breathe HELLO IT’S A CAGE A BOOB AND RIB CAGE CAGE) and I don’t have to. I almost yell. I don’t because he’s stupid, and I’m tired.

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Same, Simon. It’s a no from me, too.

I see a man get hit by a car on my way to a study session with my #1 pal. I stop and help him, call his girlfriend (thanks Robyn), and go to the police station with them to fill a form. They drive me to the police station, because I am helping them. I expect them to drive me back to where they found me, but they don’t. I am left at a police station half an hour’s walk from where I was going. I arrive at my friend’s house, and we go for brunch. We eat cheaply because we are broke. The value for money? A+.

My default state has quickly become “painfully aware”. I write the philosophy exam, and by some force of nature or witchcraft, I do not embarrass myself by falling on the way to my seat or crying loudly during the exam (like I did during the test at the beginning of the month.). I go to dinner to say goodbye to a close friend who is moving away. I am broke. I end up at a sushi restaurant with her friends who have platinum credit cards, and I am dying inside – but not in a cute way like Eliza Schuyler. DYING. I pay with my student debit card (remaining balance can buy me two lollipops), loose change (read: all the cash in my wallet) and the last shred of dignity I have.

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I have just gotten home. I have cried my makeup off, and then actually took my make-up off (look at me!). I have three exams left, one of which I am almost certain that I will need divine intervention to scrape a pass. I am very tired.

It is the end of May, and I have not done the things. June can kiss my ass. I’m here for eating sandwiches and pretending not to witness the crumbling things around me. 2016 has been a flaming bag of dicks so far. I’m not particularly fond of those.

love & light,
shalom x

In Which I Consider Vision Boards and Their Effectiveness

Aside before we begin: somebody just went into my blog archives and read all my posts from when I was 15. I am cringing for them.

Do you believe in vision boards? Like, I know that you believe that they exist, because they exist, but do you believe that they work? That you can attract things into your life by…visualising them, I guess. It sounds like a lotta lotta mumbo jumbo, and I don’t know if I’m fully here for it, but it doesn’t hurt, right?

Vision boards are said to work on the law of attraction, which is “the name given to the maxim “like attracts like” which in New Thought philosophy is used to sum up the idea that by focusing on positive or negative thoughts a person brings positive or negative experiences into their life.”. Thanks, Wikipedia.

I don’t know if this is entirely true. I mean, Roald Dahl believed it to an extent, and I took most of his writings as gospel truth when I was younger:

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I still do, for the most part.

Anyway, the point is that I’ve made a vision board. Well, I’ve started it.The distinct lack of magazine-y things in my house has made it a little difficult, but it still looks pretty rad. I also made it on a day I skipped school. I haven’t put up a section regarding graduation or this degree yet. I probably should.

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Welcome to my vision board! There’s a lot of mess up here, but it’s meaningful mess. (Anyone catch my Hamilton reference?) What’s up here right now is all the things I’d like to be associated with, things I’d like to have, things I’d like to do…things that I’d like the future to bring. I seriously need to dedicate a corner to this degree.

I’m not sure what I’m aspiring to yet. I’m (1) aspiring to not being so crippled by the future or the idea of time, and I’m not too sure what else. Beyonce Knowles. (That’s a pun. Beyonce knows. Get it? I’m laughing at myself.)

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Do you really get what you give? Because I’m waiting for the truckload of all the positivity to explode on my forehead. For real. Not that I’m positive to receive positivity, but that it’d be nice to get some back. I don’t know.

If the New Radicals said it, it must be true.

Today is the coldest wintery day so far and I am loving it. I’m also about to try to convince my sister to drive me out to get Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Or any doughnuts. I’m just in need of doughnuts.

love and light,
shalom xo

New Year

It’s almost midnight, and I am reporting live from my bed thanks to an obnoxiously strong wifi connection. Did you know that wifi stands for wireless fidelity? I learned that in 10th grade.

I just made my lunch for tomorrow – read: I just put all leftovers from last week into a container to microwave at school tomorrow because I am done spending money the way I have been because I am broke – and I’m thinking about how this week could go.

I was at home for New Year’s Eve for the first time in more than 10 years this year (last year?) We usually go to a church service (which I have mostly always objected to because FRIENDS. HELLO MOM MY CHURCH FRIENDS ARE NOT EVEN HERE.) but there was some tension and strangeness, so I got to watch Guardians of the Galaxy and Home with my sisters, and then climb up to our rooftop to watch the fireworks.

I listened to this song on repeat for many reasons: (1) It was so perfect. So cliche. Living the dream. (2) I love Layla. Mostly because I can sing most of her songs well. And because her lyrics make me remember things I thought I couldn’t. (3) It gave me a lot of hope, and said what I needed to hear.

The sentence, “Yeah, you’re gonna be somebody” is repeated fourteen times in the song. At the beginning of 2016, I wanted nothing more than that reassurance. I was waiting on Canadian universities to give me a chance, and for my father to do the same. I was ready to go and be somebody across the ocean. I was so deeply in love, and I couldn’t shake myself from wanting to be somebody the exact way I thought I would be.

Fast forward to May 2016, and we see that I am heartbroken. The Canadian universities did give me the chance I wanted. I got in. I did my part. My dad didn’t. He flaked at the last minute, and I am somewhat stuck in a law degree for at least the next three years of my life at my current university. I cried a lot. (Thank you, UBC. It means a lot that you wanted me.)

The year so far really has been an understanding of what there is to lose. I’ve lost lots. Not nearly as much as I could have lost, for which I’m eternally grateful, but still lots. I’m still struggling to come to terms with the fact that things can go tits up no matter how hard you work. Beyonce was right.

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It’s not the first day of a new year anymore, but I am still feeling broken (if not more) and I still want the same: I want to be somebody. I want to make something, leave something, be something. Having anxiety over leaving a legacy and creating that very legacy is a spectacularly painful and exhausting chunk of my psyche.

All this aside, I have an audition tomorrow. (Today?) It’s for a community theatre group. I’m nervous out of my mind. I don’t know what that has to do with anything about me being somebody, but I hope it makes my head a little less foggy. I don’t know. Perhaps this week will be more reflective than I’d thought it would. In all honesty, I should go to bed and stop researching portable chargers and earphones to buy online. It’s after midnight and I’ve got to be out of the house before 6 AM.

hi lovers lost behind us
hi lessons we failed to learn
hi those that tried to mould us
and tried to change us for the worse

can’t flee from bygones
no shaking off the truth
just a first understanding
of what we have to lose

you can’t cover over holes
you can’t burrow deeper down
yeah, you’re gonna be somebody

to being somebody.

love and light,
shalom xo


featured image from my-sweet-love-addiction.tumblr.com

Maybe, May.

“Well, let it pass, he thought; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.”

We are already a week into May, and I am shell shocked and amazed and terrified because of it.

April brought the biggest heartbreak I have ever felt. I learned that I could actually cry for three straight days. I managed to not fail my first law test, and just pass my first English essay.  My best friend is moving 13,330 km away from me. She lives 20 km away from me now, and I last saw her at the beginning of April. My head is heavy and my body just aches. Things have been a lot.

 

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how perfectly angsty of me

The freshman fifteen has very quickly turned into the freshman “I am bad at spending money efficiently and also am constantly buying other people food so now I barely recognise my body”. Yes. I did join a gym, though. I joined an on-campus gym that’s going to have fourteen treadmills and hot showers. It’s opening in July, but I am very very excited. I’m also very lucky and #blessed to be able to have that to look forward to.
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It’s concerning that many teenagers drink to forget. 18 years is so little time in the grand scheme of things, but when it’s all you know, it’s the longest time. Why would you want to forget by means of ethanol based products?  Why not? Why am I thinking about this?

My headphones have been stolen. Again. Along with my cellphone charger. What is going on with me and losing stuff?

I went for a good two weeks without taking my medication because I was too anxious/busy to go pick it up at the pharmacy. I felt like an idiot. I’m doing better now, though. I’ve got my Wellbutrin and a big headache.

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One of my favourite people on the internet – Michelle from Piece of Caustic – wrote: “I think too much of my life has consisted of me eyeing the gap between me and others and wondering what to do with it.” I wish I would stop wondering. I wish I could hit myself in the face enough times for me to realise that I need to get my shit together and stop spending money like I have it. I need to realise that I can’t fill that gap with the utter bullshit my drunk heart spouts. It doesn’t tell the truth. It tells lies and hurts me, and everyone around. I need to find out what to do with that gap, or to get in it.

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Will May be the month I find out what the hell is going on? Probably not. I’m writing my first set of uni exams this month, and coming to terms with the fact that I’m going to be in Johannesburg for the next three years of my life. Being grounded is hard when you just want to go.

Maybe I’ll make sense of myself a little bit more this month.

Maybe May.

love and light
shalom xo


featured image from paper-leaf.com