September 21st: Adjusting

Well... blimey! I thought it was time I updated you 'orrible lot about what's occurring in my new life, but where to start?

Well, it's busy. Good but busy. And confusing, and overwhelming, and brilliant, and a little bit lonely in the moments when I'm not busy - but the more friends I make, the less I get that feeling. But it's crazy! I mean, besides the obvious stuff about doing a degree, there's the cooking, the cleaning, all the stuff to which I gave no thought before... like how long after the best before date can you keep bread, or whether you can convince your flatmates to move the toaster because it says in the manual you can't put it under cabinets or next to heat sources (and ours is under a cabinet next to the oven)... or remembering to lock your flat when you leave (admittedly of my three flatmates and myself, I'm the only one who hasn't broken or forgotten my keys yet. We'll see how long that'll last.)

But it's occurred to me that I've been here for three days now, and I haven't starved to death yet. Before coming here I hadn't really fed myself for more than one day at a time, and now here I am, "cooking" (cough cough) or at least surviving fairly well. My room is still tidy (three days is practically a record for me), our kitchen is spotless, I've done the washing up more times than I care to think about because we're all still getting to know each other and none of us want to leave it to build up in case the others think we're not doing our bit, so we're all washing up after every meal (actually I tend to leave mine for two meals otherwise it's such a waste of water). I hardly see my flatmates though really except the one who lives next door, because we've all got stuff at different times so we don't eat together - but we're living here for the next academic year so we've got plenty of time to mess the place up. Anyway, the point I was trying to make is that we're adapting pretty well (though our oven doesn't work and apparently the people upstairs burned something yesterday sticking it under the grill because theirs doesn't work either). But hey.

One of the things that is nice, though, is that I can basically do what I want. After my lectures yesterday I went home with a friend and then I brought her back to mine and there was nobody to ask, no permission to gain... I could come home at three in the morning if I so wish (though I might regret it when my alarm goes off at seven the next day). It's also a bit of a novelty for me being able to walk everywhere - I can leave the flat and be in the centre of town in ten minutes! Incredible, considering I come from the middle of nowhere and am used to relying on either irritating infrequent buses or the good old parents.

It would be highly irresponsible of me to post pictures of my room on the internet where any old person could see them, so I'll show you some pictures of possibly the most historical town I've ever been in instead. York's been populated by every invader England has ever hosted - and of course our own indigenous people as well - and apparently they're all buried under the city itself, so you're basically walking on thousands of years' worth of dead people. There is also apparently an ancient law which has never been changed, which states that it is perfectly legal to shoot a Scotsman inside the city walls (I know - a walled city. Could this place be any more awesome?) on condition that it's not a Sunday or after dark and it has to be with a bow and arrow. And they do actually have a shop that sells bows and arrows so... Scotsmen, watch your backs!

No, I'm not actually a creepy weirdo interested in all this death stuff. However I did attend a "Ghost Walk" last night, during which we walked through the city listening to York's ghost stories and watching our guide (this guy - he was on stilts and in costume) -->
pointing out all of York's haunted areas. Apparently my new home is the most haunted city in the world, and with the enchanting and grand Minster right in the centre of the city walls, that's easy to believe.

(I'm quite proud of this picture. I was an idiot and forgot my camera last night but my BlackBerry did itself proud on this one... though no picture can ever capture the incredible building that is the Minster and certainly not the size of it. If ever you come to York, just go and look at it; it's truly awesome.)







At the moment York city centre is covered in marquees and stalls because the York Food and Drink Festival's on, and whilst walking back from the Ghost Walk last night, my flatmate and I stumbled upon a free charity acoustic concert, so we went in and had a nose. It's fantastic to actually live in such a beautiful city with so much going on!

On a random note: I was also pleased to discover that my Student Union bar sells my favourite cider:

but unfortunately not my favourite flavour. Oh well, can't have everything! It's exciting nonetheless.

OH and there's a very short street, literally one or two shops, one with the fabulous name of "1 1/2 Whip Ma Whop Ma Gate". I'll try to get a picture. Brilliant!

In a minute I'm off to the Freshers' Fair, and I'm going to chew a stick of that "mouth watering berry" gum that I got in my freebies when I moved in... just because I can.

Molly x

P.S. Sorry again for the gaps! It seems Blogger dislikes posts with pictures in them. Oh well, it'll just have to suck it up.

September 17th: Reasons why I shouldn't write in the night

The house is dark because everyone's in bed, and, as appears to be the norm around here of late, I am the only one awake. I realize that it's slightly strange to update one's blog to pass the hours when sleep is being an evasive bastard, but alas, here I am. If, that is, I can remember the correct email address to send this post to.

Tomorrow I'm leaving. Leaving the familiar comfort of the South, leaving the area where I grew up and the faces that punctuated my daily existence. These places have been the setting for my story so far - they've been home to every turn my life has ever taken and every development it's ever put me through - but stories have to move on, and so does life... and so do I. So to the North with me! To York! Let me fly the nest and land on my very first voyage five hours upwards from here.

I must be crazy. Five whole hours? That's such a long way! That's 300ish miles. What if I don't like it? What if I want to come home? - These are the responses I've had from people upon learning where I've chosen to attend university, but as far as I'm concerned, being away from home is being away from home. There's still the effort of going to the station, buying a ticket, sitting on a train for a while; does it really make a difference whether it's one hour or five?

Not to me. So I thought, at least. But I haven't even left yet and I'm lying here unable to sleep, which has to say something about my emotional goings-on at this particular moment in time. I never thought it would feel like this. I never thought it would hit me this hard. I've always been the girl who doesn't show emotion; the girl who doesn't cry - but trust me, I feel it, and now, while I don't feel sad exactly, I feel overwhelmed by it all. I feel like there's something pressing down on me. There's been such a huge lead up to this that you'd think I'd have had a chance to get my head around it by now - and so I thought I had - but apparently, no matter how ever-present it is in your thoughts or how much preparation you do, you can never really leave your childhood behind without it hitting you right between the eyes. Oh, we're growing up all right, but that skin of childhood we're shedding wants to make its presence felt while it still can. That's why we doubt ourselves and our choices. Because the future is always right around the corner, and we are constantly being told that those who don't give it 100% probably aren't going to succeed.

Well, maybe that's true. But if you really love something, you give it 100% without even trying. You give it your everything because that's what you feel it deserves. The future is never secure, but I do believe we end up where we're meant to be - and all I have to do is think about the feeling I got when I stepped out of York train station back in April; the feeling I got when I saw it for the first time; the feeling of rightness, of 'yes, this is where I belong'. I think about how that feeling grew, about how York and its university offered no pins with which to puncture it - unlike the other four unis on my list. I think about how much trouble I had deciding on a uni in the first place and then how easy it was once I'd chosen York St John; how wonderful it will be to have fallen in love with a place and actually get to live there; and most of all, I think about that day in September 2009 when I sat in an English Language lesson and somewhere inside me, something seemed to click into place.

I don't doubt my choices, because all I have to do is think about all of that and I know everything is going to be okay. What I'm feeling is a combination of nerves, excitement, tiredness and irritation at not being able to sleep - and it's normal to feel all of that. Especially the nerves and excitement stuff.

This is a prime example of why I should not write in the night! I'm always that little bit more unhinged when it's dark and it feels like I am the only being on the planet. It's dangerous for me to have a phone with an internet connection really... who knows what could happen if any of my less-controlled moments got into the hands of the interweb?

Seriously though. And just because it's now twenty past one in the morning and there's a new, creepily accurate horoscope awaiting me courtesy of my DailyHoroscope app, I'm going to insert it here to finish this post, because it is... well, creepily accurate. Not that I believe in that stuff. It's just my guilty pleasure. Only when it's good though.

"When a woman becomes pregnant, she has nine months to get used to the idea. She can take that time to think about the kind of parent she wants to be. She can look into nutrition and other aspects of care. She can prepare a nursery. She can arrange for babysitters and pick out clothing and find a pediatrician. And yet, despite having that time to get ready, she will still make mistakes. Just because you're about to enter a new adventure with little warning does not mean you will make more mistakes than someone who's better prepared. Go forward with enthusiasm and a happy attitude, and you'll do much better than if you enter your journey with fear and apprehension."

Molly x

September 12th: News, booze and kangaroos

Actually that's a lie. This post has absolutely nothing to do with kangaroos and not an awful lot to do with booze either (though it always helps), but I just fancied a rhyming title. Don't think I've ever indulged in a rhyming title before.

Well, since it's ten to four in the morning and I'm still awake, I thought I might as well use the time wisely, so here I am... bed-blogging. I warn you though - though I can't sleep I am exhausted, so this may not make an awful lot of sense. 

So, Scotland. It was cold and full of daddy long legs flapping about but I didn't go there for the weather and certainly not the lack of insects: I can't believe I made it back without a midge bite or two. I also made it back without kissing anyone, which is more than can be said for the other places I've jetted off to this summer. But that's another story. I went to Scotland for music purposes and developments have indeed been made! Here goes:

On Saturday I had an absolutely hilarious evening at Hannah's (the girl who plays the guitar) and with the help of two glasses of wine and the hindrance of two very overexcited dogs, we composed a new song! Hannah came up with some new guitar music and then we fit most of the lyrics to it. It's faster and catchier than our first one. Unfortunately we didn't record it this time as Hannah was working when we went to Steve's (the guy with the recording studio), so we'll leave it for next time. It's got a lot of potential though, so we're both excited about it.

We went to Steve's on Monday and At Last is now finished - at last! It certainly has taken its time. We did four recordings of it and then chose the best bits of each one, and then Steve edited it and sent it to us that evening, ready for when Hannah came over and we worked on our new song some more. I really hope that one day we'll get to record it properly, but at the moment I'm still in "Oh my God, I recorded a song! I'm doing another one! An actual live collab like I always wanted!" mode. It's such an amazing experience and I really can't believe I actually got to do it. It's crazy!

I got home from Scotland on Tuesday and on Saturday, my friends and I went out for our 'last

 supper' - a visit to Old Orleans, the restaurant that has marked several celebrations for us, such as the end of exams both last year and this - in fancy dress. Fancy dress, no less, in the theme of various countries' national dress codes. When I was in Fuerteventura last month I acquired a Flamenco outfit, so I wore that. Lauren was Hawaiian, Zoe was French (complete with moustache), and Becky and Charlotte totally ignored the dress code (but still made an effort) by pitching up in Hogwarts uniforms. We made an interesting sight, wandering through Reading dressed like that. It was a brilliant evening though, full of laughs - though we didn't actually get round to the whole goodbye bit, so we're having a last last... er, Starbucks on Thursday for that purpose. 

And perhaps the biggest news I have to impart is that time is drifting on and I will find myself, in six days' time, filling one of the many rooms in York St John's accommodation with a selection of the crap that has been accumulating throughout my life. (I went uni shopping on Friday and the spare room is now stacked with assorted bits and pieces that people have decided I need for my new life. I even have a rather fabulous spatula. And who'd have thought there'd be so many different kinds of frying pan?)


I have less than a week left here in my room in the oh-so-familiar, oh-so-endearingly-equally-filled-with-poshness-and-chavs South of England, where I have spent my entire life to date. I've never left it for more than two weeks at a time, I've never left my family for more than eight days, and it's only just dawning on me that it's really happening now. It's time. I'm really leaving. I'll have new people to meet, a new city to explore - I'll be living in a city! You can only truly understand the thrill that gives me if you, like me, have spent your entire life in the middle of bloody nowhere.


You know shit's getting real when you change your location on Facebook.

Seriously though. I'm leaving my family and I'm leaving my friends, and as Becky pointed out on Saturday night when we had a deep conversation in the stimulating comfort of First Great Western's Oxford-bound train, it will be the first time that either she or I have gone somewhere new without knowing anybody, as we've had each other everytime we've changed schools so far. I'll miss having people there who know me, and who are there for me, and who will listen even when things are hard to say. Who'll be there to recognise private jokes when they come up in conversation, or to spend ten minutes laughing so hard we can't breathe, or to reminisce about the past with? And who's going to be there to do five-way-"safe"s with? 



I wasn't nervous about going to university until a couple of days ago, but the closer it gets and the more people tell me it'll be the best years of my life, the more terrified I become. There are some things I find really hard to talk about and some times I really don't want to be alone, and the prospect of going somewhere where I will be alone scares me - because at least now I have people around me who know everything about me, and the things that are hard to say aren't so hard when people know. I don't cry often, but I have tears in my eyes now thinking about leaving my friends. I can't help wondering what life will do to us and whether our friendships will survive the next three years and beyond, no matter how hard we try. Life always has a habit of getting in the way, and the thing about old friends is that they've seen you grow up. The past is what makes you who you are, and my friends and I have seen each other become the people we are today. That's irreplaceable. So, Becky, Zoe, Charlotte and Lauren, whatever may happen throughout the next few years, you have been my childhood friends. We have shared so many firsts, discussed so many fears and had so many laughs and nothing will ever replace that. Thank you. 


Molly x


P.S. If you want to hear At Last, you can find it here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHjr0wId-TE

P.P.S The gaps in this post are SO ANNOYING.

September 3rd: On the move

Since I created this blog, it's been a personal bugbear of mine that there isn't a Blogger app for BlackBerry, so I'm absolutely thrilled to say that I have finally worked out how to post to Blogger in the rare event that my arse isn't firmly fixed before my laptop.
 
Email blogging! Brilliant! I always knew it was possible to text-blog but my phone never capitulated, so this is the absolute shiz. Now I can spam my dear bloglings from wherever I happen to be! Aren't you just so pleased?
 
Well really. There's no need to make that face. At least now I'm less likely to leave you post-less for weeks on end.
 
Well, I have nothing new to tell you yet, so this is just a quick test to see if it actually works.
 
See you soon, bloglings!
 
Molly x

September 2nd: Posting from elsewhere again

Hello bloglings - I'm in Scotland!

I know, I've barely been back in England a week and already I've buggered off somewhere else. Right now I'm sitting in my grandparents' shop (it's closed, I haven't just invaded) and since I have the use of a computer (my BlackBerry doesn't work here; the highlands of Scotland are ridiculously signal deprived but so awesome it makes up for it) I thought I'd update you all on what's occurring in my once-boring-but-all-of-a-sudden-quite-busy life. I thought I'd have quite a calm two weeks before I leave for York, but it seems that things are getting more and more hectic as the days pass. There's just so much to do; getting all the finance stuff sorted, packing, buying all my kitchen equipment - and of course practicing for my driving test - so it's quite a funny time to come to Scotland but I've been trying to make time ever since I went last year and in the end I just figured it would never happen if I didn't force it to. So here I am!

Any new bloglings won't know this, but my grandparents have a friend called Steve, who owns a recording studio, and last year I recorded a song there which I didn't quite finish (but only in my eyes, it seems), so now I'm here to perfect it. Apparently I'm going to Steve's on Monday morning and hopefully I'll get it up to the standard I want it before I return to England on Tuesday. I'm SO excited! The whole recording experience is amazing (anyone who hasn't read July 21st's post from last year should refer to it now - it's ridiculously long but it's got all the information about this particular subject in there). I don't really have much to tell you yet but just you wait...

Just a quick update really, so I'll inflict the rest of my life on you next week.

Molly x

August 30th: When the past and the future collide

I spent today with two of my oldest friends, Becky and Zoe - one of the last days we'll spend together in the final two or three weeks before we all leave for uni - and it was one of those days where you can really feel yourself teetering somewhere between the future and the past. The three of us have spent the last seven years together (I've known Becky for eighteen years now, but Zoe only joined us when we were eleven) - and so we've all watched each other grow and change and fail and succeed many, many times.

We spent today lost in the past, submerged in memories and moments from our childhood, and yet we managed also to construct our ideal lives for at least the next ten years. We covered everything from our first days at school to having children of our own and the thing that made us able to do so is that, to date, we have gone through everything together. Now, that's starting to change. This is the biggest and most life-altering thing we've faced yet and really, the only one we've ever faced alone. It's easy to say that everyone's in the same boat, and that may be true, but at least before when we've all been in the same boat, we've all been sailing towards the same shoreline. Now my travelling companions and I head towards different islands, different parts of the country, and though we'll eventually reach land and find new people with whom to fill our boats, it won't be the same.

We are all going through this together, but ultimately, it's up to us to make it what we will, on our own. We have to take every opportunity we stumble across; make the most of the days which everyone insists are the best of our lives. Nearly two years ago I founded this blog for that exact purpose - so that I could record everything, good and bad, that came my way... so that I wouldn't let any little grains of sand slip through my fingers. Life has a habit of snatching away things that were once important and I am unwilling to let it. I don't want to forget these days, because if I ever forget how I grew into the person I am today and what was important to me, I can refer back to this. This blog is my own personal time capsule. The creation of myself.

In my opinion there are two types of people in the world: there are speakers, and then there are writers. I am a writer. Everything I think, everything I feel, pretty much everything I need to say but can't bring myself to admit aloud, I write down. I write when I'm sad because if I don't I can't describe why I'm sad; I write when I'm happy because if I try to talk all I can do is squeal; I write when I'm scared, or isolated, or embarrassed, or angry... when I am too weak to express my emotions to another human being I inflict them on my pen or my keyboard instead. Maybe that's why I'm saying all this over and over again on here, because right now I am terrified. I'm excited and happy and impatient and scared and nervous and a little bit lonely all at the same time but I'm riding on a high, and I'm just waiting for the moment on the 18th of September when I watch my parents drive away and I sit down in my new bedroom and look at all the students walking by outside and see my possessions in their alien surroundings and think, 'Now what?'.

What words of comfort can anybody offer when they feel the exact same way? Our boats are adrift at the moment and soon enough we'll run aground, but we're on tenterhooks trying not to crash. It's hard to say what will become of the plans we make and the friends we've always had, but it's impossible to predict the options we'll have and the people we'll meet in the future. It's easy to long for the security of the past but you can't live like that; imagine what you'd miss out on!

Maybe these boats of ours will get lost at sea but I highly doubt it; after all, we're built not to sink.

Molly x

August 18th: Developments in one sentence...

I got in!

August 17th: Pre-results ramblings...

It's half past five in the afternoon, and at the moment I'm lying in twenty-eight degree heat on the balcony of my hotel room under a cloudless sky in Fuerteventura, listening to the sea crashing onto the sand just a little further down the volcano I'm currently halfway up. I've been here for a week now and, as does tend to happen on holiday, I feel very detached from the real world. After all it is, quite literally, miles away, and it feels it.

And no, I didn't just start this post like that to make you all jealous. At least, that wasn't the main reason. (Those of you who don't already live in countries with similar climates, that is). It's just that being here makes it rather hard to believe that in less than twenty-four hours my life will have changed for good; no matter what happens, tomorrow is going to bring about a permanent change in my life and that of all seventeen and eighteen year olds in Britain (even if they're not currently in Britain). A Level results day is finally upon us...

Bollocks.

I know I'm not the only one who has, up until today, managed to successfully block the thought of results day from my mind. I mean, if there were a fly in the suncream, results day has to be a pretty big contender. It's very strange to think that come tomorrow, after all this time, all this preparation, exams, applications to this and that, and all the waiting for the last two months, I will finally know where I'm going in September. Will I get the grades? Will I be going to the uni I chose? Or will I - god forbid - fail miserably and be forced to use Clearing or postpone my life until I can reapply next year?

I ask these questions now relatively calmly - they're nothing new. They're questions I - and everybody else - have been asking of ourselves for months so there's no point in panicking now. The worst thing about it is that the exams finished two months ago, and instead of getting the results immediately, we have to endure two months of nothing-we-can-do-about-it-now worry - hence the earlier point about having oh-so-deliberately forgotten about it. In a way, it's actually a relief that it's finally here. At least we can get it out of the way. So, next time I write here, I'll know whether or not I'm going to university this year. Now that's a scary thought if I ever heard one.

I think it's safe to say I won't be getting any sleep tonight.

Besides, I'm sharing a room with my brother and he snores.

Molly x

August 9th: A very quick hello-goodbye

Well, bloglings, this is yet another post that I begin with no idea of what I'm going to say - so I'll warn you straight away not to expect too much. Tomorrow I'm off to Fuerteventura for two weeks, so not only will there not be any posts forthcoming during that time, there also may be an extremely long update upon my return (depending on whether or not I can be bothered. Those long posts - here I'm referring to July 21st 2010; go and look if you don't believe me - take FOREVER).

Still, I'm very much looking forward to the heat and the lazing around... not that I'm currently doing anything other than lazing around here at home, but there's so much more fun in lazing around when you've got a pool to laze beside and thirty degree heat to laze under. The only problem is that in nine days I will know whether or not I can live the future I've been planning for the last year or so; yes... results day looms. Annoying that I'll be on holiday when the results come out, but I'm hoping I won't need Clearing (the UCAS service for those who don't get the results they were expecting and need to apply elsewhere) or I'll be screwed. Still. Positive thinking!

Anyway, just a very quick update to let you all know why it's going to be a bit quiet here for the next couple of weeks - though to be honest you're probably used to my erratic posting schedule by now. I frequently leave it for weeks without any excuses. Whoops. Hope you all have a brilliant two weeks and I'll see you when I get back!

Molly x

August 2nd: August firsts

Firstly, I can not believe it's August already! Where does this year think it's going? Methinks it's getting a bit too cocky. We'll have to have a word with it, running orf like that.

I named this post 'August firsts' because it's only the second day and already I've done something I've never done before: taken my driving theory test. And not only that, but I passed it! First time, baby. Oh yes. Be jealous.

I don't really make a habit of getting the result I want first time around, so it's something of a novelty for me. HELL YES! I DID IT! WOOOOOP!

...And with that bit of smugness aside, I shall continue. I got a random comment asking me to do this and since I don't really use my Tumblr account, I thought I might as well do it here on the blog so those of my bloglings whom I don't know in real life can stalk me a little more. Don't say I never do anything for you.

I'd like to say I'm being as honest as possible... but we'll see.


Height: 
     Umm... about 165ish cm, I think. I haven't measured myself in ages and I've got no idea in feet so don't even go there.

Shoe size:
      6

Sexual orientation:
      Straight

Do you smoke?
      Nooooooooooo. Disgusting habit.

Do you drink?
      I do like to indulge in the odd alcoholic beverage from time to time.

Do you take drugs? 
      Yeah, loads. Cocaine, that type of thing.
       LOL JK I'm really quite boring... do painkillers count?

Age you get mistaken for: 
      Fifteen, normally. I apparently have a young-looking face and an old-sounding voice, so I can be a confusing little beastie. However, the age I was most recently mistaken for was twenty (but then again we were in a bar, it was dark, and he was a bit drunk).

Got any tattoos?
      Ew. No.

Want any tattoos?
      See above answer.

Got any piercings?
      One standard ear piercing on each ear.


Want any piercings?
      No more than that. I find them slightly chavvy if I'm perfectly honest.


Best friend:
      Cora, obviously, but also my lovely knobs Zoe, Becky, Charlotte and Lauren.


Relationship status:
      Single... always single... and (should I do a Becky?) ready to mingle!


Biggest turn ons:
      Ooooh. As I recently discovered, a guy who knows how to massage. (I also love it when people stroke my hair, etc - but not in a turn on way. Just in a kind of comforting way). I'm a bit limited when it comes to boy experience so I think this is all you're getting out of me for this question...


Biggest turn offs:
      Smoking. Tattoos. A lot of piercings. Tracksuits. Chavs, basically. Also aloof, couldn't care less, treat 'em mean kind of guys. If you treat me mean I will not stay keen, I will think you don't like me, lose my nerve and back off. I like it when people are open about how they feel and what they're thinking (which is a bit rich coming from me, but oh well).


Favourite movie:
      Argh! What a question! Erm... Twilight always makes me laugh simply because it's so bad - Vampires Suck takes the piss out of Twilight so that always amuses me too. Enchanted simply because it's full of private jokes between Zoe and I; Leap Year for the same reason but with Becky; Rent because it's awesome and about a million other films because seriously, how is it possible to answer a question like this?


I’ll love you if: 
     You're nice to me. I'm a friendly person so all you have to do is smile at me or talk to me and it's as simple as that. Or give me chocolate. Never fails.


Someone I miss: 
      Cora, of course.


Most traumatic experience:
      Not particularly traumatic in the scheme of things but there have been many of the type of experiences throughout my life to which adults refer as 'character building'.... which is all very well but less than fun when you're actually going through it. However, as regular readers of this blog will know, said experiences have built my character and widened my mind and, though I sometimes wish I could erase them, I can't help wondering what sort of person I would be had I never gone through them.


A fact about my personality:
     A fact about my personality? Here's one: I can't come up with a good fact about my personality which doesn't make me sound all depressed, so though I'm actually quite happy right now: I'm better at acting than I thought. I'm subtle. And I make a lot of cryptic comments, so unless you know me really well, it's not easy to see what I'm thinking.


What I hate most about myself:
    I'm a facilitator. I put my friends first. If they don't want to do something or they can't make something, I'll change for them, no problem. I don't mind doing this but at times I wonder whether, if I didn't change for them, they would ever bother to do the same for me.


What I love most about myself:
    I can find a way out of most situations.


What I want to be when I get older:
   I'm pretty sure you guys know this by now! If you've been reading this blog for a while and you still don't know... you have some serious attention span issues.


My relationship with my sibling(s):
    Freddie? He annoys the hell out of me sometimes but he's sweet and I do love him. I'll miss him a lot when I go to uni.


My relationship with my parents:
    I like to think our relationship is good. Like Freddie, they can annoy me, but I'm sure they find me equally annoying and we have some pretty good times too.


My idea of a perfect date:
    Something that shows me he knows me, so it doesn't have to be our first date. Something original that shows me he's really thought about it and wants me to know that he cares about me.


My biggest pet peeves:
    Grammar errors! No exception, guys! Learn how to write in your mother tongue please, before I come along and force it down your actual tongue.
    Also when people refuse to be at all open minded about things - people who just assume they're right because they can't be bothered to take other opinions into account.

A description of the girl/boy I like:
    Yeah... that watering hole is dry. (Not actually a metaphor; there's just a severe shortage of fanciable specimens in the immediate vicinity).


A description of the person I dislike the most:
    Don't really dislike anyone right now, so... nah.


A reason I’ve lied to a friend:
   Ah. An easy one. I've lied to a friend because I'm afraid of appearing weak or like I can't cope. A pretty human reaction, I think.


What I hate the most about school:
    School? The hierarchical clique system and the way you get 'punished' if being who you are means you don't conform to social expectations or 'norms'.
   College? Hmm... nothing, really.


What my last text message says:
    (To my driving instructor): "Passed it! :)"


Which words upset me the most:
    Words that refer to my own personal insecurities or shortcomings; words that imply I'm not trying hard enough, or that I'm making certain things up to get attention - which I would never do. I'm not the type.


Which words make me the best about myself:
    I'm not quite sure what this question means, but I've never been happier with myself than I am now. I think one reaches a stage where one has to accept that everyone is different, and everyone has talents and abilities of their own, and trying to emulate a talent that you don't share is only going to be depressing. Just focus on what you're good at, and you'll be happy.


A wish that I’ve made repeatedly at 11:11:
    I don't really do that. I wish on birthday cake candles and eyelashes and stars... and I don't wish for objects. Nice try though! If I tell you what I wish for, it won't come true.


What I find attractive in boys:
    I'm a sucker for dark, floppy hair but I find only a few guys can really pull it off. Dark eyes also. Darkness in general. (And no The Darkness jokes please... that's floppy hair a step too far).
    I like musicians. Every guy I've... ever, actually... been involved with or kissed or even just fancied has played a musical instrument of some kind. Usually the guitar, but that's just chance. I like a guy who can play something because I have a little dream that he and I can sing together.


Where I would like to live:
    Denmark. More specifically, Odense. I have never been anywhere more beautiful or fallen in love with anywhere so hard in my life.


One of my insecurities:
    That I'm not good enough for the life I want to live, or that I'll give up before I reach it. I have a tendency to give up.


My childhood career choice:
   Blanket maker (when I was four); professional Concorde flyer (not pilot, just someone who sat on it - I even had a 'Concorde fund' with the grand sum of about two quid in it. That one bit the dust long before Concorde did but now I'll never even get to fly on it); rollercoaster designer (chucked that one out when I realised how much maths was involved. Numbers never were my strong point).


My favorite ice cream:
    I am partial to a bit of chocolate, but I like toffee, mint and honeycomb too. Of course, no ice cream is complete without guf... shame I don't live in Denmark, really.


Who I wish I could be:
   Oliver Tompsett. Seriously. I'd go male if I could be him. Amazing voice, amazing looks... mmmm. If we're talking about admiring people, though, then (sad as it sounds) my fabulous English teacher Hannah. I genuinely admire her and if I could have even half her awesomeness, I'd be happy.


Where I want to be right now:
    Duh? Denmark. Obviously. Though I'm kind of boiling alive right now, so... in the sea in Denmark would be nice.


The last thing I ate:
    A Ferrero Rocher.


Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediately:
   Oli Tompsett.

Right?!

A random fact about anything:
     I'm currently listening to 'Too Little, Too Late' by JoJo, which reminds me of many happy hours in my room or Zoe's, dancing and singing, inventing harmonies, recording videos, having deep, philosophical conversations, talking about boys and generally living out the seven years we've known each other.

Also, I corrected the grammar of most of these questions.

Molly x

July 20th: Oysters, overseas and other alliterative objectives

I've been feeling rather uninspired of late - or perhaps I should scratch that, because a lack of inspiration hasn't been the problem for me. There's been plenty going on inside my pretentious-writer-y brain, but I seem to have lost the ability to express myself through writing (and those of you who know me well will know this is more of a disaster for me than it might be for other people, because I am incapable of expressing myself well through speech. I'm one of those irritating people who pepper their lexicons with fillers and non-fluency features (or 'um' and 'er', for those who don't speak language-nerd)).

Whenever I'm angry, or stressed, or upset, I write. Usually to myself, sometimes to people who never get to see what I've written, and 'occasionally' to Cora, who gets stuck with a lot more of my self-focused internal monologue than is really fair on her. (Though it seems she knows things even when I don't say them, so perhaps it's just as well that I am fairly honest with her.) But it occurred to me yesterday that, as I move into my uni on the 19th of September, I now have two months left. Two remaining months of the life I've been living for the last eighteen years; eight more weeks of living at home, living with my family... that's only about 56 more days before I truly say goodbye to the lifestyle I've known since I was born - goodbye to my childhood, I suppose.

I know I've posted a lot on this subject recently, but that's because it's the biggest thing in my life right now - and that of the lives of many, many people worldwide too - and it's... well, it's huge. It's by far the biggest change I've ever faced in my life to date and it's approaching at the speed of light, and I need this blog now because writing is what I do, and who better to listen than nobody and everybody at the same time? When I write here, the only thing sharing my words is the big blank white screen in front of me, and yet the whole world can follow my little 'story'. I find that incredible and so incredibly weird. Everybody's lurking where nobody is.

If the world is my oyster, how do I know I've picked the shell with the pearl inside? I'm lucky - I've known linguistics is my calling pretty much all my life - but can a person have more than one calling? What happens if the calling stops... well... calling? What if you get curious about the howling from the woods instead? Maybe there's a pearl in every shell; maybe it just doesn't shine at first. Maybe we just have to dig it out and polish it up. Or maybe I'm chasing a crayfish - maybe I should turn the hell around and snatch my oyster back. Maybe then I'll come to the same conclusion I always reach: that doubts are normal. That this is a decision which needs to be carefully considered. That it's never too late to change my mind but in the end, why would I want to? Words are what I do. This path I'm following is right for me and I know that - and, like I've told people who also wonder if they've made the right decision, if you don't doubt your choice, how can you come back around to the realization that you've never wanted to do anything else?

I want to go to Denmark and study Danish. I kind of want to learn Russian. I want to write and record songs. I want to be a speech therapist, I want to live abroad and teach English as a foreign language, I want to publish linguistics theories. But this is great, because all my wants are linked; basically, I want to spend my life rolling in a great big sea of words, floating on familiar and foreign grammatical structures and nestling down to sleep on a comma at night. I want to hang out with the semi-colons and maybe undangle a participle or two (not as dirty as it sounds). I want to gaze from my window at the glowing full stops speckled across the black night sky. I know for sure, as I always have, that I've found my oyster... now where did I put my pearl polish?

Molly x

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.)

May 21st: Ten things to do before you die

I was eating lunch with Becky and Charlotte yesterday and Becky asked me, "Have you written any blog posts recently?" and it was only when Charlotte gave away her true stalking tendencies by reciting the name and date of the last post that I realized I'd been seriously neglecting my wonderful bloglings.

The thing is, though, that I have nothing to say these days; I know writers everywhere say that one shouldn't wait for inspiration because if you do you'll never get anything done, but I'm not a real writer, just a pretentious pretend one, so that doesn't really work for me. So I'm here listening to Glee - yes, I'll admit it. I like Glee. Suck it up. - staring at a copied and pasted post from early April that I never finished and trying to dig up something somewhat interesting to say.

There are a lot of lists floating around regarding things one should do before one finds oneself inconveniently dead. So, taking into account everybody's constant 'Your life is just beginning! You've got plenty of time for all that!', and of course that ridiculous rumour about the world ending today, I thought I'd offer some thoughts of my own on some of the things that people feel are valid pastimes to spend one's life doing.

1. Unless you're one of those irritating irrepressibly hearty types with an enthusiasm for everything (or just very athletic) don't bother with the whole scaling Mount Everest thing. For one thing, it's a mountain. It's a pile of rock. Mountains are incredibly impressive and seriously inspirational for us pretentious writers, but if it's the view you want, there are plenty of mountains around the world which are hooked up to those magical inventions known as cable cars. Saves you the months of intense training and the need to lug an oxygen tank up to the top to counterbalance the thin air.

If it's charity you're doing it for, why bother spending out a ridiculous amount of money to a) train to climb it, b) get your hands on all the equipment, and c) get to a bloody mountain in the first place? I mean, obviously some people are lucky enough to live in a mountainous area, but there aren't many big piles of rock lounging around my part of England just waiting for me to tame them. Just donate the money to charity without all the fuss of scaling a mountain!

2. A lot of people think finding the people who bullied them will give them closure... but that's a load of crap. These people made your life hell for a while! They dented your self-confidence! Why on Earth would you want to go back and thank them for that? Wouldn't you rather see them suffer? Or at least forget about them. Don't go and find your childhood fiends, people. Find your childhood friends instead. The ones you let drift away - but not the ones who didn't bother. Find the people you were sure you had chemistry with, the ones you never told... find the ones you loved, not the ones you hated.

3.  Do not go swimming with sharks. Er, hello? Dangerous, guys! I for one don't understand the point of all these life-threatening things-to-do-before-you-die suggestions. An adrenaline rush is an adrenaline rush and if you're looking for one, there's no need to jump around with your arms waving to attract the attention of deadly sea creatures. Just ride a rollercoaster! Easy peasy! Swimming with dolphins, however, sounds like fun. Much less dangerous. I'd definitely try that.

4. Visiting Paris. Paris is lovely, but overrated. It seemed to me to be just like London, but French. There are so many beautiful places and countries around the world that get nowhere near enough attention and exposure - when choosing somewhere to go on holiday, don't just go for the obvious; do a little exploring!

5. Riding white water rapids on a river at the end of which is a big-ass waterfall. This is just plain stupid, people! The buzz would be amazing but imagine the, er, comedown when you reach the end...

So, just so you don't all think I'm a boring sod, here are some suggestions of things I'd like to be able to look back and say I did... or even demonstrate...

1. Fall in love. Preferably with someone who loves me back. Do I really need to expand on this one? Oh, and have children.

2. Learn another language... you all know my stance on languages, so this is a big one for me. It'll be hard and it'll take time but imagine being able to communicate fluently in a language other than your native one! The results are so worth it!

3. Be part of one of those awesome things where loads of people in a big crowd all suddenly break into song and everyone else is like, 'What the hell?'.

4. Be the best you can be at something. I was talking to Lauren the other day about this very subject and she made the very valid point that someone's always going to be better than you, but that means you're always going to be better than someone too. We're all better than someone else because we all have our own special talents, so be the best you can be and don't listen to the haters. They really are just jealous.

5. Live in another country for a while. A month, a year, your entire life - it doesn't matter how long. You'll gain insight into other cultures and consequently the world and humanity like you've never had before.

6. Keep a diary (or a blog, if you're an idiot like me and would rather put all your feelings out there for the world to stumble across). I know it's difficult to remember to write in them but when you look back and read them, it's like finding a chapter you've never seen in a book you've read many times before. This way, you get to see sections of your life the way you'd tell them to others, and maybe it'll help you realize that they weren't all that bad after all (this only works if you don't censor things like I tend to do. But it's hard to be brutally honest when you know anyone in the world in possession of an internet connection has the ability to read your deepest darkest feelings). (Just so you know, I don't censor much, so you're not missing out on anything particularly exciting.)

7. Let someone completely into your life. But make sure you don't take them for granted.

8. Do something that makes you feel like the totally awesome person you are. Write a novel, or perform in a real theatre, or hang your artwork in a gallery, or record a song... know people can see you doing what you do best and enjoy it!

9. Ride some white water rapids. I suggest the French Alps for this (awesome, AWESOME rivers with plenty of rocks and currents but a nice lack of big-ass waterfalls). It's such great fun! Just remember to go with a company and not by yourself, because if you fall out and smash into a rock I'm sure it's not particularly comfortable.

10. Bury a time capsule! But make you sure you leave some kind of clue or it may never be discovered, and that'll be such a shame. Also, write a letter to your grandchildren. Let them know what the world was like back in the olden days of 2011.

So, when the world continues not to end later today, have a think about what you want to look back on when the fateful day arrives. Go for it - who knows? Maybe you'll be one of the few people who actually manage to cross everything off their list!

Molly x

And thank you to Becky, Charlotte, Cora and Zoe, who gave me a bit of insight into the things they want to do before they die. I wish you all the best of luck with following your dreams.

April 29th: What makes the world go round?

Sorry guys, but for this one, you're going to have to dig out the inner language lover in you. Some of you might have to dig a little deeper than others, but trust me, you've all got one languishing somewhere.

Which is in no way like somebody telling me that I have a maths lover hovering in the deepest depths of my subconscious. Because I don't. Never have, never will. But there is no way that it's possible not to adore language, not when you think about it. There is no way you can't find it amazing. Go, now, stop reading this and go and stand in front of the mirror and fix your eyes upon your lips and say something. Watch your lips. Feel your tongue. See and hear and feel how you speak, how you make sounds, how you form language. This is how we, as human beings and as any other animal, communicate. This is what makes the world go round.

My mum always tells me that maths is what makes the world go round. Apparently maths is the most important thing in the world. But how can that be possible? Imagine a world without letters. A world without sound. Because English isn't just about comprehension and Shakespeare - oh hell no. For me, English is about language. Not just English, but any and all languages. I love the sound of it, the physical biology of it, the look of it; I love the art and the science of linguistics.

So imagine it: this hideous imaginary world. Imagine a silent life; no conversation, no music, no laughter. No Facebook, no Twitter, no Blogger. No Tumblr or Flickr or YouTube. No internet. No communication. No friendship, no family, no love.

And for those of you who are maths lovers: no numbers, because you can't have numbers without the words to describe them. The number 48, for example, is the number forty-eight. We have words for numbers but we don't have numbers for words. Money has words on it. 'Money' is a word. Money makes the world go round?

Think of it this way. When you go abroad to a foreign country, you find the currency hard to understand. Unless you're particularly familiar with it, you can't translate it into the amount an item would cost you back home. But you spend it anyway, and it's almost like it's not real money - you've got some fake cash burning a hole in your pocket and it doesn't matter what you spend it on because it's not going to make much of a difference to your funds. But when you get to the till with your carefully selected purchases and realize you can't so much as say hello or thank you to the person behind it... well, that's when it starts to get a little bit awkward. Even when you know what the correct word is, do you say it? Some of you will, I know, but most of you won't. I don't. It's hard to speak words of a foreign language to a native speaker, but when you do and they understand - that's one of the best feelings out there.

The phrase 'my favourite language is...' is not one you hear a lot. Does it sound nerdy? Probably. Oh well. I don't care. A lot of people don't often give this subject much thought, but those people who say 'Oh, everyone speaks English anyway, I don't need to learn another language' piss me off no end. For one thing, not everybody speaks English and secondly, why on Earth would you not want to acquire at least a slight interest in a second language? Let's face it: you do. You want to know more about the world and its languages. When they mention the odd 'bonjour' in TV shows, you know what it means. You've listened to the occasional song in a foreign language. You've done French or German or Spanish at school (and obviously other languages if you're not English, but I'm just writing about what I know here). We all have a basic understanding of the world's most well known languages (except Mandarin, because, well, it looks bloody difficult. Probably a brilliant language though) and because of that, we lose our spark at language learning.

Speaking from my own experience, I dropped German after two years and did five years of French instead, leaving school at the end of it with, yes, a GCSE in it, but also having lost all interest and charm in the language and now, less than two years later, I can barely string a sentence together. I gave up on German because the teacher and I had a hate-hate relationship, but I made the wrong decision. Now, when my brother asks me for help with his French homework, words come to me first in Danish, then in German and lastly in the language they were supposed to come in first. I've never formally studied Danish and I dropped German five years ago - surely there's something wrong with that?

I came out of French thinking I was crap at languages. Now I realize I was just crap at that one. What do you think would happen if we exposed children at a young age to more than just French or German or Spanish? What if we gave the underappreciated languages of the world their chance to shine? Danish, for example. Or Romanian. Greek. Icelandic. Dutch. Norwegian. Or... I don't know, the click languages of African tribes. Why do we have to stick to the ones that are widely spoken? What if we let children choose their own language, the one they find an affinity with - would we end up with a society of extremely linguistically adept children or simply a society of confused ones? Either way, it has to be better than forcing kids to attend lessons in languages they despise. That's not going to help anyone.

Not that I'm saying language lessons in schools are a bad idea - not by a long stretch. Some people are lucky enough to find an affinity with a language they can study alongside the maths and sciences of this world. All I'm saying is that we should take into account the languages we've been neglecting for so long. And who knows; maybe it would create a generation of children with better grammatical abilities... after all, having an interest in a foreign language greatly increases your interest in your own.

Molly x

April 15th: Filling up the metaphorical glass

It occurred to me yesterday that life's good.

I know it's not often that I say that because I am one of those irritating people who tend to look on the negative side of life, but the thing about us glass-half-empty people is that we are surrounded by those who are the opposite; people who fill up the rest of the empty glass. And I'm lucky, because I've got so many people in my life who can do that, and it's so strange to think that without making a few stupid little decisions, I could never have met them. If my mum hadn't attended the same antenatal class as Becky's mum, we might not have met. If I hadn't gone to Langtree I'd never have met Zoe (and missed out on seven years of bus journeys! Shock horror!) or Charlotte, and if I'd chosen Abingdon college over Henley, as I was tempted to do for a while, I wouldn't know Lauren. And those are quite big decisions, but of course, without posting that comment on the What Is This Feeling instrumental on YouTube three years ago today, I'd never have met Cora - and that was a tiny decision and now look where it's led us.

I can't imagine life without any of these people, but as they all turn eighteen around me (with the exception of Charlotte, who at seventeen and three quarters (ahem, blud) is the baby of our group and Cora, who turned eighteen positively yonks ago) it really hit me that after June, I won't be seeing them every day anymore. I can't help wondering, much as I want to believe we'll stay friends, if we'll be those people who head off along their different paths with an exhilarated expression upon their faces, clutching their maps and calling, 'Don't forget to write!' - leaving the madly waving crowds behind them never to hear from them again.

It takes a lot for a friendship to be maintained over the internet, especially if you have to try. The friendship that Cora and I have is effortless, but then we've never really had any alternative. When you take a couple of friends who have built their relationship on face-to-face communication and plonk them on separate ends of the country, it's obviously going to be a lot harder to continue with the closeness of before. And I'm aware that if my friends and I grow apart, it'll partly be my fault, because I chose universities that are bloody miles away from here and I have every intention of going abroad to study for a while (so anyone who wants a free holiday better make a special effort to stay in touch).

Although I do love my friends here with all my heart, the kind of friendship I share with Cora is so much deeper and, in my opinion, harder to find, than any other relationship I have ever shared with anybody. I mean, when I met her she was just another person I met on the internet, just another person who shared a love of Wicked - but I had no idea that within a couple of months she would become the person who knows the most about me, the person to whom I tell everything, the person who can decode all the random cryptic comments I make. She's the one I want to tell when something good happens or when something bad happens, when something makes me laugh, when something makes me think... and yes, she is older than me. Yes, she lives almost a thousand miles away. Yes, I have only met her six times in person. But let me ask you this: who the fuck cares? Does that really mean 'internet friendships' can't be real?

And if you say no, they can't be - let me reintroduce my earlier point regarding 'real life' friends who have been separated. Does that mean that if you move away from someone, your relationship should be terminated, just like that? That whenever you talk to someone on the phone, you don't really know them because you can't see their face? That the friends your children make on holiday and spend all week with before going home and becoming penpals are freaks and perverts? Of course it doesn't. Cora and I prove that online friendships can be just as real as co-present friendships - more so, even. I mean, how many times have you been stabbed in the back by people you thought you could trust right here at home?

And, in this day and age, when life is becoming more and more dependent on technology, why shouldn't we utilise that to forge new relationships with other human beings? We have the whole world at our fingertips here, people. Rich pickings! To not acknowledge that would be like trying to grow your own potatoes on a highly infertile surface because you're too proud to nip to the supermarket next door. (Not to say that one shouldn't be wary of said freaks and perverts, because of course they do exist. But if you surf the internet in a state of panic, assuming everyone around you is one, consider where you are. Oh look - on the internet. Whoops.)

I'm looking at my cat sleeping on my bed right now, and she looks so peaceful, like nothing in the world really matters. I think she's got the right attitude. Nothing does really matter - if we make mistakes, we can correct them. If we go the wrong way, we can turn around. If we go wrong, we can go right again, just as long as we're surrounded by people who will let us. And who cares where they live?

Molly x

March 29th: The perfect tense

"In linguistics, the perfect tense usually refers to the present perfect tense used to describe actions now completed (thus "perfect"). The term "perfect" comes from the Latin perfectum, meaning "completed", from the verb perficio."


And so Wikipedia defines a term that, frankly, has absolutely nothing to do with what it means. I've always found this phrase interesting and, in taking this concept literally, have found myself pondering this question:


If we spend all our time regretting the past, stressing about the future and worrying about the present, is there really any such thing as the perfect tense?


Take, for example, what is currently life for millions of students all over the world. Exam time is rapidly approaching, stress levels are building, students are arguing with parents who think tidying their room is more important than revising (in my case anyway)... university offers are coming in (or not, if you're unlucky), student finance forms are being filled out... and seventeen and eighteen year olds everywhere are going "Shit... I'm moving out. Shit... I don't know how to do laundry. Shit... I don't know how to cook. Shit... I need to do some work!"


And so do we do some work? Pfft. Don't be daft. At least in my case, I find every possible way to procrastinate on the face of the planet; have even once or twice resorted to tidying my room. What is it about procrastination that takes over every aspect of one's life? For me, procrastination isn't even productive in any other way - I've got about twelve unfinished blog posts on my drafts page that I'm either too uninspired or too lazy to finish.


I am doing my final A Level exams in three months. I am moving out in six and I have no idea how to cook or clean or get these elusive grades I need to do it all in the first place and somehow I assume it's all just going to happen, that I've got all the time in the world - but time is running out. Time can run faster than I can, so why the hell am I still here? Still on Blogger; still on Facebook; still on Twitter and every other stupid site that I can't seem to leave alone despite the fact that I know that when I open that envelope in August and pull out the piece of paper that contains my future I will, for a dizzying hopeful moment of possibilities, think that maybe it won't be as bad as I think - but then I'll look and I'll see that I've done what I always do and let myself down again. Do I not realize this is one of the most important years of my life? Choosing a university, doing my A Levels, leaving home... why am I floating along like I always have, now of all times? Why can't I just get a grip already?


Oh well. I suppose that's all you're getting from my ever-complaining mind today - I'm sure it'll all work out. It always does.


Molly x


Doesn't 'procrastination' sound like some kind of sexually transmitted disease?

March 3rd: Love

I don't understand the word "love".

"Love" is made up of four letters. L, O, V, and E. Do these letters carry a deeper meaning than the rest of the alphabet? Are they in some way special? Or are they just coincidence - four letters chosen by somebody at some point in history and given the responsibility of denoting the most powerful and important force in the universe?

Except gravity, of course. Life would be pretty difficult without gravity. Perhaps where love makes us more lighthearted, gravity's effect is to counter that by making us heavy-bodied; perhaps gravity is love's counterpart, the one that always manages to bring us tumbling back to Earth again. Perhaps by being in love or by loving somebody, we are defying gravity.

Why, when these seemingly insignificant individual letters are bound together, do we get a word that supposedly represents the strongest of feelings - romantic or platonic? What gives this word the authority to describe such a thing? And who decided what "love" should be called? Who coined "love"? Who invented love?

Give it some thought. You'll end up just as confused pleasantly mystified as I am.

Molly x

In case you were curious about the identity of the 'somebody at some point in history', I took the liberty of looking it up on http://www.etymonline.com/ so that I could inform you all.

Old English lufu "love, affection, friendliness,". *Lubo (cf. O.Fris. liaf, Ger. lieb, Goth. liufs "dear, beloved;" not found elsewhere as a noun, except O.H.G. luba, Ger. Liebe), from PIE *leubh- "to care, desire, love". Meaning "a beloved person" is from early 13c. The sense "no score" (in tennis, etc.) is 1742, from the notion of "playing for love," i.e. "for nothing" (1670s). Love-letter is attested from mid-13c.; love-song from early 14c. To be in love with (someone) is from c.1500. Love life "one's collective amorous activities" is from 1919, originally a term in psychological jargon. Love affair is from 1590s. Phrase for love or money "for anything" is attested from 1580s. To fall in love is attested from early 15c. The phrase no love lost (between two people) is ambiguous and was used 17c. in ref. to two who love each other well (c.1640) as well as two who have no love for each other (1620s).

Don't you just feel love, affection or friendliness for me for doing that for you?