Soliliquoi

I’m listening to Oasis right now, I suppose it’s the inspiration for this.

“So all of the stars, have melted away. But try not to worry, you’ll see them some day… just take what you need, and be on your way, and stop crying you heart out”.

I like that last sentence; stop crying your heart out. Stop. Oh, oh, guess what’s playing now “Roll with it”. Another cool message <>“You gotta roll with it”

Whoever knew the Gallagher’s had such wise words? It’s so simple really, but so… pertinent? Is that the word? Oasis… first group I ever saw. My dad had free tickets (ha, dodgy connections I suppose), to I think Party in the Park and he made me go with him, one sunny afternoon in London. I was too young really to care about Oasis, or bands really. I was rather introverted as a kid, rather too much. I was in a bubble that music didn’t really penetrate. I was happy, I suppose, or did I just not know that I was unhappy?

Primary school, oh ho ho we’re going way back here. I went to a crappy local primary school where no one spoke English as a first language, in one of the most pathetic areas of West London. But it didn’t matter, because of course when you’re a child those things never seem important – you’re not poor if you don’t know riches. Affluence is meaningless if you don’t know about your own impecuniousness. It wasn’t a bad school for us, it was just…school. It was a concrete jungle, but what did we know about the countryside? The teachers were ok I suppose, bar the anorexic teacher we had in yr 4 who would regularly faint whilst teaching us about adjectives and multiplications.

But that doesn’t matter. I remember being in Key stage 2, there was beef btwn Israel and Lebanon (well, there was always beef, but it seemed to break out at this point), and suddenly it became Holly vs. the Arabs. Which is rather ridiculous when you think about it… me; against the Arabs? Whatever..

But it was what it was; I was ‘Israeli’ – scum. I was a bitch. Moreover, I was a ‘Jewish bitch’. They knew I wasn’t really Jewish… wtf how could I be? I went to Sunday school ffs. They knew I wasn’t, but I guess they just wanted something to pick at. I have no idea why; I wasn’t especially strange. I didn’t smell. I wasn’t ugly. I was pretty normal. It was one girl who escalated it; she was beautiful with amazing hair and everyone loved her, and I was just a bit lanky and tall and not very pretty. We were the best of friends sometimes; our mum’s were close, and yet, at other times she’d be my enemy. I used to love the days she wouldn’t come in, because then I would be popular. No one disliked me particularly, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t desperate not to go to school or anything like that, but she made things horrible for me. She was so sweetness and light too, and I just didn’t stand up for myself very well. Once she hid my book bag. And once she kicked my coat. And she used to get everyone to call me ‘the Jewish bitch’ (oh, I should point out, she was Muslim…). Yeah, this isn’t some epic ‘I was bullied’ anecdote, but it was what it was. My mum asked me outright if she was bullying me, and I told my mum she was. So my mum went to the school, and the teacher (IDIOT!), got me, my mum, her mum and her together in the fucking playground and asked me outright to my face if she was bullying me. How could I answer with her right there in front of me? What a ridiculous situation to put a 10 year old in.

I’m not bitter, I honestly don’t care, it’s just interesting. I had a friend in primary, who was a bit odd, but cool as well. She was very… I don’t know the word; she didn’t give a fuck, and she still doesn’t. We meet up sporadically and get wasted together, but we run in different crowds and have different interests so it’s a bit limited. She’s much more of a go-getter than me; she’s not going to uni but she’ll be fine whatever she does.

The only other person I speak to now is a really cool guy from my class; I say cool in the sense of he was the Pokemon boy who was the class joker and super smart at maths, he’s a bit of an AZN rudeboi now, but he’s cool. People used to call him ‘burnt toast’, which , frankly, was hilarious then and now. Why were we so race-obsessed? Anyway, he goes to ‘Shottingham’ and apparently his friend thinks I’m fit. (Btw, there’s no point to any of this crap but pure nostalgia). Me and him, and maybe 2 or 3 others, are the only ones I think who made it to uni. The rest… God knows. I’ve seen few of them on FB, and, quite frankly, they look like Chavs. But I hate that word, and I hate that generalisation. I’m sitting in a Council house right now as I type this, so I’m hardly in a position to be a snob. I hate that generalisation, but I’m still snob enough to use it? Meh what does that say about me?

Someone very close to me said that I was corrosive; that everyone who got close to me ended up hating me. What an odd word; corrosive. Lets think of a new word; acidic if you will. I am acidic; I wear people down until they want nothing more to do with me. Apparently everyone thinks this about me – I guess you could dismiss this as just someone being horrible. But the person who said that said it 2 weeks ago – and it was my mother. Like thanks mum, truly. Way to help me achieve self-actualisation (not that I necessarily believe in Maslow’s hierarchy), thanks. I wouldn’t be bothered particularly, except, I suspect she’s right. I suppose I’m just not naturally a nice person? I really don’t know.

God I’m tired; I’m just procrastinating – I should be revising procedural justice but allow it, I’m too lazy.

I’m listening to ‘Butterfly Lovers’ – Vanessa Mae. I always wanted to be a violinist, I love the violin, I adore it, it’s one of the most beautiful instruments on Earth. I even dream about it. I had the chance to learn it, in yr 7, but I got moved by my teacher (I missed my lesson – they ran out of violins by mistake), and I got changed to the Viola. Don’t get me wrong, I like the Viola, but I yearn for my missing E string. Christ that’s lame. I’m the lone Violist; always a lonely desk. There’s never more than one; no one plays the Viola.

And even so, I never took it seriously. I could be grade 8 if I wanted, but I was too lazy. I focussed on the wrong crap in secondary school. I went to a Girls RC school, yes, think of the clichés. It was an ok school really, but looking back – some girls there had issues.

I had this one friend; we were close. We both liked Busted and we lived 10 mins away from each other. In year 9, she got the most retarded boyfriend on God’s earth. He was the ex boyfriend of a different friend of ours too. He was a complete and utter retard, he couldn’t even walk in a straight line. She became a goth, and they got ‘married’ in a grave yard on Kensal Rise in a satanic ritual. She dressed all in black, and tattooed the pentagon on her stomach. She ended up a bit of a slut who everyone laughed at, and didn’t do her GCSE’s. She was crazy and scary. Her mum was crazy too; she used to be obsessed with Eminem and send him fan letters all the time – she ended up killing herself, leaving my friend to find the body. Whilst this was happening, my friends (now ex) boyfriend got a pole and tried to beat up a different exes dad, only to get merked himself and end up in a Psych ward. I’ve tried to summise this story, keeping out the parts about this other Polish girl we knew who ran around telling everyone she was a vampire, and eating raw meat. You wanna know the funniest thing I’ve ever seen sober? A (normal!) Christian friend of mine put the Crucifix on the ‘vampire’s’ skin, as a pisstake. Vampire girl goes crazy…runs outside into the playground (in midday), starts screaming about the sunlight burning her (no, I’m not joking), trips, falls down a flight of stairs in the outside and broke her leg. Absolutely fucking hilarious tbh. Last I heard, she had a baby, and the other girl, I’ve no idea.

Not everyone was crazy at my school however, this is mostly up until yr 9. Afterwards, starved off male attention, we turned vicious amongst ourselves. There’s a girl who I’m good friends with now, her life was hell I think. She was lovely; plain Jane I guess to look at, but really intelligent. Now she’s at one of the best law schools in the country, and I should probably see her soon! She was lovely, but too intelligent, and she suffered. I was always jealous of her; where my family is a bit shit, she seemed to have this amazing family life, and she was much more in the cool clique. She was completely isolated for being intelligent, they made her life horrible at the time, they laughed at her, bitched about her, laughed about her… but I didn’t know. I was just jealous. I had 2 close friends at that time (real friends), but she had a whole clique, or so it seemed. There was no sixth form, so everyone split up for yr 12, which was the best thing that could have happened to either of us. She went to a completely different sixth form, but still, secondary school fucked her over and she’s in counselling to this day. Damn…what did that school do to her, to make her so sad she has to see a counsellor.

I’m lucky; the past doesn’t effect me like that. If I was raped, if I had an abortion or something terrible happened to me, it wouldn’t affect me. The present affects me, but, I have this ability to compartmentalise and it won’t effect me (I’m listening to Eminem – Lose Yourself, right now). The past never affects me; I look to the future toujours.

I don’t have a terrible past, but it’s certainly not rosy. You’re probably wondering (actually, you’re probably wondering why the fuck you’ve read so much and when will I end with the solipsism), where the last 3 yrs are. Meh, it’s late, and it’s slightly raw, so I cba to go there. Not right now. Not tonight. Not here and now and with this keyboard which has no functioning ‘S’ or ‘D’ key. I find it really hard to express myself through writing, it’s cathartic, but, it’s difficult. And especially when this keyboard isn’t working. Not right now. Not tonight. Not here and now.

xox