June 28th: Suck on that, haters!

This is me when I was seven or eight.

I just saw a post on Twitter asking this:

If your eight-year-old self met you, would they be proud?

It made me think. I have no idea what my eight-year-old self would think of the person she will one day become; on paper there isn't much to me but a lazy girl with short fingers who messes up most of her exams and can't do much but correct other people's grammar. But there is so much more to me than that; things that my eight-year-old self never saw coming. I recorded a song. I mean, that's crazy! How many people get to do that at the age of seventeen? I got five offers within three weeks of applying to uni. That's just ridiculous. I never ever expected that one. I was so determined to get an A in English that I redid almost everything I could - and no, I wasn't successful, but I tried damn hard and I'm proud of that. I wrote two novel-length stories when I was eleven and thirteen (admittedly they're crap, but the point still stands!) I find plane journeys easier than long train journeys because I've done more of them - and I don't suppose there are many people my age who can say that. And you know what? I want to spend the rest of my life correcting other people's grammar, because I'm good at it and I don't believe there are enough people who truly love language the way I do. (There are quite a few of us, but there can never be too many!)

Maybe I am a nerd, but I like it that way. It feels a bit arrogant to post this, but wondering about my younger self's opinion of me really got me thinking. I have a feeling she would have looked at me and said "I thought you'd be prettier than that and why don't you have a boyfriend?" - but then I would tell her "Because I don't want one right now" and she would be amazed that not having a boyfriend is something you decide, not something that happens because nobody fancies you. (And trust me, I could have a boyfriend. If I wanted a creepy old bald guy with a funny accent, greasy hair and a dodgy eye who works in Starbucks. Let's face it, eight-year-old Molly would be disgusted at the calibre of guys she'll one day attract.)

When I was eight I had all these expectations and dreams; things I thought would happen by default just because they happen to everyone else. I thought that by now I'd have a boyfriend or at least have had a serious relationship (as opposed to the pathetic few moments throughout the last five years or so when the romantic side of my existence has flickered into life). I hoped I'd be popular. Maybe it only sort of came true, but either way, instead of wishing I could change the way I think and feel, now I'm happy with my ever-single status and I'd rather stick pins in my eyes than become one of those 'popular' girls. Somewhere along the way I became happy with who I am, and I see no reason to try to be someone I'm not. Who needs that? I have a great family, I have the best friends I could hope for, and I've learned over the past year and a half especially that it's okay to be vulnerable sometimes, because it lets other people see you for who you truly are. The more real you are, the more real your relationships with other human beings are likely to be.

So now I sit here wondering about my twenty-eight-year-old self. Will I be in a relationship? Engaged? Married? Pregnant? Will I have a family? What about my career? Will I have my degree? My Masters? My PhD even? Will I have discovered any of that linguistics stuff I so long to unearth? Will I still live in England or will I be teaching English abroad somewhere? Who will I know? Who will have disappeared? Who have I yet to meet? Will I still have this blog? Who will I be in ten years?

I only know one thing, and that is that I have absolutely no idea. Maybe I never will. But this quest for answers upon which I am about to embark is going to be one hell of a ride, and I can't wait to get started.

So if there's one thing I would tell the girl I was ten years ago, I would tell her that popularity isn't what she thinks it is. Eight-year-old Molly, those 'popular' people you always wanted to be like are nothing more than fakes, and if there's one thing you're not, it's fake. Maybe the dreams you had then didn't come true, but so many others did. You have so much to come, and yes, you're going to go through some stuff in the next few years, but who doesn't? Don't give up, because you're going to come out on top eventually. Oh, and your name is pretty. It'll grow on you. Stick with it.

Suck on that, haters.

Eighteen-year-old Molly x

June 24th: Becoming a person

Right now I'm sitting in the Student Learning Centre in college trying to waste some time - I'm here because it's my English class party today and I have some books to return anyway - and all around me is this completely weird atmosphere. It feels like a ghost town. I feel like I don't belong here anymore; funny really how little time it took for me to feel that way when I haven't really been gone all that long.

This college has been my home for the last two years, and it became the walls inside which I conducted my life; now, I'm walking through these oh-so-familiar halls and rooms that I know so well and I'm surrounded by people I don't recognize. It's almost like somebody's plucked me from my universe and plonked me into an alternate reality. I suppose the fact of the matter is this: I am surrounded by first years. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's funny when your exams are over to think that for the others, life continues as normal. They get up in the morning, they get on the bus, they attend lessons, they go home. (With a bit of variation... college is never really that simple.) The only real thought they give to us, to the year above them, is "Now they've gone, we're the second years". It's weird. I think for me it's only just hit that uni isn't next year, or months away in the future, as I've subconsciously been thinking it is. It's here, it's really happening now, and my exams are over, and there's no way I can change my results now no matter whether I passed them or not. When did this happen? When did the future descend upon me like a vulture swooping down on its prey?

I shouldn't feel like everything is creeping up on me because I've been preparing for university for over a year now. Exams, open days, exam results, personal statements, selecting my five choices, uni applications, halls applications, finance applications, receiving offers, accepting offers, trying to learn to cook and clean... it's all been in preparation for the future becoming the present, so why has it taken me by surprise to realize that these next three months of summer truly are the end of the beginning? I'm looking forward to going to uni, I really am, but it is an incredibly big step - for all my life I've been a part of my family, one of four, a quarter, if you like, and now I become one and they become thirds. This is when I become an adult. This is when I become a person.

At the risk of using a cheesy cliche (let's face it, cheesy cliches are what I do best), the first chapter of my life is closing. A new one is beginning now, and I want it to be as amazing and special as I imagine it to be. Who knows; maybe I'll even write it in green ink.

Molly x

June 11th: The awesome moment when your favourite teacher describes you as her Mini-Me...

Two weeks ago yesterday was my last official day at Henley College before we broke up for study leave, and for the first time in my life, I'm actually sad to leave a place of education. The one great thing about both my primary school and my secondary school was that I spent the whole eight years and five years respectively longing to get out of the place, and so when it came to leaving, I was the one running out of the school without a backward glance while everyone else was crying behind me. But I loved almost every second that I was at college and I find it so ironic that the place I least want to leave is the place I was at for the shortest amount of time.

I've been trying to write this post since the day I left college - the 27th of May 2011. That's over two weeks, and I seem to be unable to finish this. Possibly one of the reasons why I haven't posted anything on this subject yet is because I'm not quite sure what to write... the original purpose of this blog was so that in the future I could look back and remind myself of things that happened during these important years and the way I felt about it all, and a momentous occasion such as this should be documented, but it's just so hard to believe that my days in sort-of-compulsory education (college isn't compulsory, but it's just what most people tend to do) are over; that my days as a child, reliant on my parents, living at home, are all over. Now I have to go out into the world and fend for myself, and as yet I have never experienced a more exciting and yet terrifying prospect.

I have had some really great times at college. I can't believe that's it; that never again will I sit in the language corridor with my friends for an hour before lessons or eat there at lunchtime; never again will I beg said friends to go to Starbucks instead of the library in our frees or hang out with Hannah after English or tutor; never again will we share Starbucks Fridays or Picnic Wednesdays; never again will I complain about walking up to Rotherfield with Hollie (not that I object to walking up with Hollie, but if you saw the hill I'm talking about, you'd agree with me); and especially that never again will I sit with Zoe on the bus and have philosophical conversations or act out random songs in Russian accents (because that's the kind of cool kids we are). We can finally throw away those stupid little homework diaries we all pretended to use but really discarded after the first couple of months. (Have to say, I remember walking through the big college building on my first day with said homework diary, trying to match the room number on the page to the arrows on the signs. I was truly earmarked as a first year.)

So goodbye, Henley. You've been brilliant. I will actually miss you, which is more than I can say for my secondary school... everytime I go past Langtree, something inside me gives a little whoop that I don't have to go there anymore. But in all seriousness: in leaving Henley College I'm not just leaving a place of education. I'm saying goodbye to Henley, the beautiful town which has been home to everything that has happened in my life over the past two years; I'm leaving behind lazy afternoons by the river in the sun, stressing about exams in Starbucks, spending all my money on Bloc Super Chocs (observe - the best hot chocolate in Henley:)

and yes, even getting the train home with Charlotte, skipping the odd lesson on the odd can't-be-bothered afternoon. But most importantly, I'm parting ways with so many people, old friends and new - people I've known all my life and people I've known less than a year.

Lauren - I've known you less than two years, but it seems like you've been a part of our friendship group for as long as I can remember. It seems strange to imagine life without your glorious randomness, your ability to keep a straight face while saying the funniest things, and your wonderfully strange Northern pronunciation, of which we are all so fond of making fun. You're brilliant!

Charlotte, I didn't know you very well before we came to Henley, but I'm so glad that we became friends. I've had so many laughs and more serious conversations with you over the last couple of years, and thank you for that. You're a truly hilarious person and I love having your presence in my life.

Becky... there has never been a moment during my life when I haven't known you. You've been there through every change we've ever had to deal with and though we've both had other close friends, you will always be my oldest friend, and even though I won't see you everyday anymore, nothing can change that. And stop doubting yourself, woman! You're awesome and you know it, so go kick some arse. (Or even ass.)

And of course Zoe... what can I say? That first day I met you on the bus when we were both still in year six, you were so shy, and now look at the madwoman you've become! I have truly loved knowing you and growing from a child into an adult with you (and with Becky, obviously). I'll never forget all the bus journeys, all the times we sang together, all the deep conversations... we've shared an awful lot over the past seven years and I hope we will continue to in the future. Pub time, yes?

I love you all, and I hope that whatever you wish for the future comes true. In ten years when we all meet up and show off our boyfriends/husbands and gloat about the marvellous lives we possess and the shows Lauren's been in and the photos Zoe's taken and the art Becky's got in the National Gallery and whatever Charlotte's decided to do with her history degree and the linguistics theories I've published, we'll look back on now, on the eve of our lives truly beginning, and remember that we spent it together, and wasn't it great?

Molly x

(The title of this post refers to a very cheesy Facebook message that my epic English teacher sent to me after I wrote her an equally cheesy letter. Among other things, she called me her Mini-Me. It pretty much made my life.)