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?

February 26th: The stealing of the Mac...

So I'm just chilling with Cora's Mac while she's in the shower and it occurred to me that I could use the time to post here on the blog - since I did tell everyone I'd write about what an amazing time I'm having to make you all jealous.

Just kidding. But I do have a lot to tell you - these past two days have been, on a scale of one to ten, 92947386184678146731461846184646 times amazing. (That's an insanely long number. Just thought I'd state the obvious and point that out. Innit.)

So here I am in Denmark. It's snowy here - though it's melting fast - and I have been heroically resisting the urge to throw snowballs at Cora since she protested so profusely... and then she went and threw one at me. Nice.

Naturally I threw one or two back. I mean it would be rude to let such a cry for attention go unanswered.

So on Thursday I arrived about ten o'clock (getting up at four in the morning was SO worth it) and we went into Copenhagen and basically shopped. Since we went shopping again yesterday, I have basically no money, but hey, I do have some fabulous new clothes. And I've been saving for this trip since I was like, twelve, so.

Hello peeps (god I hate how people use that word. But I'm using it now as I'm not Molly and thought I should make you all aware of it.)...
Molly will kill me for my horrid punctuation xD
So I'm the knob Molly's been spending time with "here in Denmark" aka Cora the freaky Dane.
Btw would it be completely rude of me if I kept her and never gave her back? I mean she's rude but also the cutest grammar freak I've ever met (well she's the only grammar freak I've met...)
I know she's been "complaining" about how I threw snow at her but you have no idea what she can get up to. Well some of you might now what I'm talking about, like twitter raping you xD
Molly Ellen freaking Turner you're amazing and I really don't want to let you go! Maybe I should just lock the door to the bathroom... Better not as you'd have to stand there all naked :P Okay so that's not true you've got towels and clothes with you. Why am I even writing this? I'm boring and really not funny at all. By the way Miss T you owe me money MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
*cough, cough* damn those evil laughs they're are killer on ones throat.
Molly why did we get hold of so much candy? The coffee table is practically overflowing with candy and empty cans...
Oh ooh... Molly just turned off the water, which means she'll soon be back. I'll let you in on a little secret; she asked me to do this xD "Wouldn't it be fun if you wrote in my blog post" and naturally as I'm such an obliging person I have done as she requested.
Though I didn't completely follow her instructions hehehehehehehhe... 
Wicked was ozmazing but it's nothing compared to the London show. Oh she got out now so I'll end it here. Sorry for my boring pooness.
Cora signing out now, see you peeps (again I hate that expression).


And I, the knob to whom this blog belongs, have returned from the dead (the shower was that scary). 


(Random point: right now we're watching Spongebob Squarepants in Danish. It's kind of strange - but then I'm getting used to seeing things I know well in English in Danish instead. X Factor was particularly strange.)


I hope you enjoyed Cora's input to the blog.... as you can see, she's got a very different writing style to me so you can probably tell whose writing is whose.


So on Thursday, we actually met one of our friends from YouTube - Julie, or JulieOfSurburbia as she's commonly known. She's one of the sweetest girls I've ever met and it was awesome to see her in real life - though strange to get used to her face not being behind a screen.  But it was great and I'm really glad we did it, since she's an amazing person and so lovely. :)


So as Cora said, we saw Wicked. In Danish. It was actually pretty awesome. Obviously the way they did it was very different to how it is in London; they used TV screens placed around the top of the stage to set the scene, since the stage was smaller, but they also adapted it in really great ways. For example, during Defying Gravity, the arm Elphaba was on moved around the stage so she "flew" rather than just hanging there. They also actually included Dorothy - you could see her throwing the water over Elphaba. It was actually really good and the fact that I only understood a few words didn't make it hard for me to know what was going on; I guess after seeing the show four times you kind of get to know the storyline pretty well.


So I have to go now, but I'll be back probably when I go home (nooooo, don't want to go home) to force the rest of my awesome time here in Denmark upon you. Sorry for the crappiness of my writing in this post but alas, that is what happens when I have a lot to say and I want to write it all down before I forget it.


Toodles, bloglings!


Molly x


Have realized 'knob' rhymes with 'blog'. Could I call this the 'knobblog'? Would that have two Bs? Knobblog? Knoblog? Hmm.

February 20th: The writer is her reader's character.

I start writing this post topic-less, title-less and bored, so I doubt anything good will come of it but like I said, I'm bored. I'm procrastinating. I've never wished half term away before but as far as I'm concerned, Thursday can't come soon enough. And I'm well aware that by posting something new the day after my last post, a lot of you won't have read the aforementioned previous update and therefore will be a little confused as to why Thursday can't come soon enough.

So my suggestion is: tear your eyes away from my writing, - I know it's hard, I'm brilliant like that (not) - scroll down, and enlighten yourselves about the exciting Thursday (and indeed Friday, Saturday and Sunday) I've got planned.

Go on, I can see you still reading. Naughty.

Or, if you can't be bothered, you can just stay here and read whatever crap I'm about to spout. See, I've got this feeling, and I don't know what it is, and right now, making a playlist of 'writing music' so I can update my blog about a miscellaneous, undefined feeling which I may or may not have seems more important than redrafting my history coursework so I can get a good grade in history and consequently get into university.

So. Writing. Writing, writing, writing. I wonder what it is about knowing that people are reading that makes us adapt what we say and what we write and how we act... it's almost like we're ashamed to let people see our true selves, our talents. There are things I've written which nobody will ever see and they're all so much better than this crap I put out on the internet for any old random person to stumble across. And why? Why shouldn't I want my very best things out there? Why should I fear people seeing what I can do? When I put things on YouTube I know it's because I'm not that great a singer and maybe I'm scared of a negative reaction, but why would anybody react badly to my writing? Not because it's brilliant, but simply because it's writing; there is no reason for anybody to hate it. When you hate a song, you either dislike the melody or the voice - when you're reading, unless the writing is really terrible, you only notice the subject. That's the thing about good writing: they say it should be unnoticeable, so that all you can identify with is the character's emotion and story. Obviously with blogs it's different, because what you're reading here is my voice. I am not telling you fiction - most of the time I'm not even telling you non-fiction. I'm telling you feelings. I'm telling you thoughts. I try to write as honestly as I can here so that reading it is like being inside my brain, but still I'm aware that my every word will be digested. So, without meaning to be, I'm a character. I'm your character. You see me as you wish to see me; you see me as I choose to portray myself. You're only ever getting my side of my story, no matter how honest I try to be. Getting into university is hard, but I don't work as hard as I should. Freddie is more talented than I am, but he tries more things. And I know I'm not bad at everything. I have talents just like everybody else does, but somehow this blog always catches me on my bad days - probably because on my good days I never feel like I have any reason to write. People are sympathetic to and interested by other people's woes, but bored by their happiness. But I'm not writing for an audience here... right? I started out writing for myself, and myself only, but I'm not writing merely for myself anymore.

I can't imagine why anybody else should find my 'story' - if you can call drifting along like I am a 'story' - interesting - I don't. But so many people have said school days are the best days of your life and if that's true, I want to remember them.

They were wrong, anyway. School sucked. College has been great, or at least it would have been if I hadn't got some kind of anxiety disorder last January. And yes, I'm aware that's the first time I've admitted as much here on the blog but I used to hate saying it. Now I don't mind it so much... so many people know that I figure you all might as well know too. That 'code' I wrote about a few months ago was supposed to be helpful, because people wouldn't know what I meant when I said I was fine and they wouldn't make me explain. But now I've explained it, people know it, so I may as well just say what I mean. But actually I like it if people ask me if I'm okay because it shows they care, and that they know, and that they remember - and that's what true friendship is. You're supposed to know what's wrong with your friends. You're supposed to know when they need a hug and you're supposed to help. At least, that's how I try to act with my friends. I try to show them I know them, and I know not everybody works like that but there really is nothing like knowing that people care about you.

I'm not claiming in any way that my life so far has been that difficult, though of course I've had hard times, like everyone does. But I think that whatever awful thing you're going through really does make you stronger, massively cliched though it is. It gives you perspective, and it gives you compassion, and it gives you strength, empathy, sympathy. I would even go as far as to say that it gives you a deeper understanding of the world, because I used to look at people and wish I was them, wish I had their perfect lives. Now I can't look at anyone without wondering if they're as normal as they look, because I know I look normal and I'm not. I went through the worst stage probably late last summer and into winter, and now I hope I'm getting better, but it affects me worst of all in English lessons (I know. Of all the places, right?) and all I wanted to was to be able to sit there, bored, in a lesson. I couldn't allow myself to be bored, because I had to be alert all the time. I was scared of losing control of myself. And it's more than that, but to be bored is such a simple thing and I couldn't have it. I want what people don't even realize they have; normality. And it made me lose all interest in everything. My attendance was slipping because I was afraid of going to English incase I had a panic attack, I was afraid of exams for the same reason and revision didn't seem important because all I could think of was will I be okay in the exam? And I was embarrassed to tell anyone besides my friends so everyone thought I just couldn't be bothered to turn up to my lessons. People think anxiety is nothing - just nerves, perhaps, but they don't realize I'm not stressed. I don't feel the reason I have this. They don't know the way you're hyperaware of yourself and of everything you're feeling, they don't know the random pains you get, they don't know how you get scared of going to your favourite lessons days beforehand.

I know quite a few of my friends 'in real life' read this, and that I'll probably regret posting it at some point in the future, but right now I don't care. Maybe people should know, maybe then they would understand why I do some of the things I do. People tend to adapt; they find their own ways of dealing with things and yes, my methods of coping with this aren't always the most sensible thing to do but I'm doing my best. I'm getting there.

And now I'll stop my little rant. I guess all I really mean is that nobody's perfect. Nobody's normal. So even if you think they are, just stop and give them the benefit of the doubt sometimes.

Molly x

February 20th: Doctor Who, Denmark and daft amounts of brackets.

It's been quite a while since I last wrote, or at least it feels that way... it's only really been a couple of weeks. I guess it seems like longer because the amount of times I've sat here with my fingers tapping at the keyboard, trying to come up with something of a tiny bit of interest to say (and failing) is ridiculous. I've got about ten drafts in my Edit Posts page all saying pretty much the same thing, all ending up with me stopping after I've written about this much and reading them through and thinking God, this is boring. Who's going to want to read that? Because like Hannah said in one of her tweets once, it's not that blogging is hard, it's just that I bore me... should I put that out there for the world to see?

(The answer, in her case, is hell yes. She may bore herself but everyone else loves her.)

My lack of updates hasn't been due to a lack of a subject though. I've certainly got a lot to say (and will probably do so in my typical manner of using far too many words to describe a simple thing... really must stop doing that. Word limits hate me.)

So first of all, I am now learning to drive. And it's amazing. Like really amazing. I've had two lessons and a bit of road-terrorizing going on round where I live (twenty miles per hour... I am such a badass) and I haven't crashed yet... yet being the operative word. Though according to my mum, I'm instinctively good at it. (A load of crap, but nice to hear.)

(Wow, I like brackets. I've only written three paragraphs and the brackets are out in force. Are they stalking me?)

Also, now it's half term and tomorrow I'm orf to Devon to visit my step-grandad and the South-African-wife-he-married-in-secret-last-June-eighteen-months-after-my-nana-died-and-whom-I-didn't-much-like-at-first-but-now-I-do. Innit. My dad's family is complicated. But they're fun and Devon's great, even if I have been there 2156843373000000 times and don't really appreciate it that much anymore. But there's an open day for one of the Plymouth universities - the one I applied to - on Wednesday and since Plymouth is in Devon, we considered it useful to crash with the grandparents while we were there. I'm really hoping I like the uni, since the town is amazing and the entry requirements are practically nothing. Having said that... it would be so embarrassing if I didn't even get the grades for that. Oh, how complicated all this uni business is!

Also, I have just realized my dad's speaking in an Australian accent on the phone. Who on Earth is he talking to?!

So Devon's a four hour drive from home and I assume we'll be home around eight on Wednesday evening, which is fine because that means I can go to bed early ready for getting up at four the next morning to grace Heathrow airport with my presence because I'm going to Denmaaaaaark! Woooo! Finally I get to see Cora again... August to February is a long long time and I miss her! But on Thursday morning I am getting the earliest flight possible and I should be there at 9:45AM... assuming the snow the wonderful Danes are supposed to be getting doesn't delay me and it bloody better not. And then we're spending the day in Copenhagen and seeing our friend Julie, who lives there (and whose name I will definitely pronounce wrong) and THEN we're seeing Wicked... in Danish. So I'm going to see my favourite musical, in my favourite language, in my favourite country, with my favourite person. Epic, right? And the fact that I don't speak Danish is just a small inconvenience. Since this is my fifth time seeing Wicked I'm hoping that I know the storyline well enough to follow anyway. I'm so excited! And I can't wait to hear what the songs are like in Danish - actually the good thing about it is that I can understand some Danish but not enough to annoy me if the songs are translated badly. Which they won't be, because Denmark's awesome.

And then I'm staying there until Sunday and on Monday I have college. Talk about coming back to reality with a bump. And just to add insult to injury, I have two pieces of coursework due in on the first day back.

So all in all, life's good. Except oh God, results day is in eighteen days... craaaaap. I have so failed everything! Well. I've so failed history. English not so much. But I doubt I got what I needed. Anyway, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Wow. I have actually finished a blog post! Amazing. Oh and I really should mention this:

This is my Adipose. Any Doctor Who fans out there? Cora got this for me and it's so adorable! It's a stress ball so it's squishy and kind of sticky and it's got a tooth. Honestly, I have never seen anything so cute. It's even got toes! And you can hold its hand. Adorable.

And yes, you can see one of my post-it notes from my English revision on the wall. I believe that particular post-it was talking about 'backing' - when a vowel is pronounced towards the back of the mouth.

So there's your random pointless fact. You really do learn something new everyday. Hmm, maybe I should make it a regular feature... a random pointless fact in every post.

Anyway, I'm going to leave you to it now, my beloved bloglings. Have fun and I'll hopefully bore you again soon with a long-winded account of everything that's happening this week.

Molly x

Also, Cora bought two massive packets of chocolate M&Ms for when I go there. See, this is why I love her.

February 9th: If only enthusiasm were enough...

If enthusiasm could get you what you want and need out of life, I'd be getting As in English, flights between Denmark and England would be free, and Becky could probably fabricate a degree in Grey's Anatomy out of thin air with her bare hands. If excitement or anticipation could set you up and send you on your way, I'd be recieving unconditional offers from my universities instead of conditional ones. If positive thinking really worked, I'd have passed every exam I'd ever taken with the top mark possible. If self-belief wasn't overrated... well, maybe we'd all have a better incentive to believe in ourselves.

See, I'm currently researching and collecting data for my English coursework. English coursework which is an incredibly exciting assignment considering I would ideally like to be a linguist; it's a language investigation where we get to choose anything we like (to do with language - which you can relate pretty much anything to) and... well, investigate it. This is what linguists do. This is my opportunity to find something that nobody has ever seen before and study it and come up with a hypothesis and an analysis and maybe someday those textbooks that occupy my classroom will be quoting me instead of the other way round.

I picked Second Language Acquisition (pretty self-explanatory but for those of you who aren't English nerds/don't know me, it's when you learn a second language)... a risky choice, considering it's a topic we don't actually cover at this stage of English Language education (it's pretty much my top choice of things to study at uni) and I've been talking to my auntie about it, since she's a teacher and she studied that as part of her degree. She says I sound extremely enthusiastic - now if only 'enthusiastic' was readable as 'really freaking awesome and guaranteed an A because it's the best idea out of everybody in the whole of the country for A2 English Language coursework'. If only I were good enough to get that elusive A! I have actually given up on getting my A now. I took my AS exam three times to try and get something better than a B, but it didn't happen, so I don't hold out much hope for getting an A at A2. To be honest I'd be happy with a B this year. Why is that, hmm? Last year I got Bs without even trying and I didn't appreciate it, and this year I'm just hoping I did well enough to get a B so I don't have to retake the exam.

But I don't care about that anymore. It's just that English has always been 'my' thing - the thing I'm good at... the only thing I'm good at. And if I can't get an A, if I can't be the best, then what else? Why does everybody else get something at which they're brilliant and amazing and talented - the best - and not me? I just wish I could kick butt at something, you know? Still. That wasn't what I came here to talk about.

I came here to use this magical invention we know and love as the internet to reach out to you all. See, I need victims. Um, I mean... volunteers. Usually, if somebody wants to look at your language skills, they want you to be fluent, yes? Not this time. I'm trying to determine when exactly you become 'fluent' in your acquisition of a second language - I want to see when you start using grammatical features like modal auxiliaries (will, shall etc), prepositions (about, in etc); and what words you use to describe certain things. So basically, I need non-native speakers of English at all stages - especially Danish people please, but everybody is welcome. I know it can be embarrassing speaking a language to a native speaker of that language - trust me, I know - but I promise you I find this fascinating and I think anybody with even the slightest grasp of language is amazing, especially those who speak more than one, no matter how basic your skills may be.

This would probably be a good place to add that I can not speak any other language but English, and even though I consider myself to have a fairly strong grasp of language - it's just one language. Is it better, do you think, to have a brilliant grasp of the structure of one language or a good or mediocre grasp of two or more? When you think about it, even having the ability to speak one language is amazing: words are stored in our brains and we can retrieve them whenever we feel the urge to construct a sentence; and we can construct a sentence, not just with words, but with the correct word order, the correct prefixes and suffixes, the correct grammar in general. When we're writing, we know which way to arrange the letters within the words so that they make sense; we know which way to put the words so we don't say the complete opposite of what we mean. The average person speaks approximately 38,000 words per day and around 200 words per minute and we never run out of things to say. Amazing, right?

So please, if you're reading this and you're not English and you are at any stage whatsoever of English language learning, please get in touch with me if you feel like taking part in this investigation. It's only for college, so it's nothing massive, but I need people or I'll never get that A I pretend not to care about... and you wouldn't want to be responsible for the downfall of my education, would you?

Thank you in advance!

Molly x

January 26th: Bloglings, Cyberbirds and swapping strangers in the street

'Ello bloglings!

I seem to be reverting to my old informal blogging style these days... I hope I'm still making sense, because I tend not to when I'm writing. Whichever examiner reads the English paper I wrote this morning is going to be very well acquainted with the sense of coherency I lack when he or she is finished. I just hope they understand what I was getting at or it's hello retake for me.

But yeah: maybe drop me a comment and tell me which you prefer. Do you want to hear my 'inspirational' pretentious ramblings or do you want to be let into this mediocre existence I call my life, of which only the somewhat interesting bits make it onto here (and mostly not even then). Up to you, bloglings.

Random LOL moment: stumbled across this Facebook group the other day and it really made me laugh, so I thought I'd repeat it here to amuse you lot.

"Old people at weddings always poke me and say "You're next". So I started doing the same thing to them at funerals."

Soooo as of today, I am officially an exam free bitch; free as a Cyber-bird (Doctor Who series two bloopers - YouTube them if you don't know what I'm on about) and ready to... get on with my history coursework. Oh how I love my life. But actually life is looking up - now the exams are over I can look forward to half term, which means jetting orf to Denmark to see my very best friend, the amazing Cora, to whom I am rude enough to live in a different country. And that is brilliant and yet so depressing, because I miss her so much it's like someone ripped half of me off and gave it to her, and now everytime we have to leave again she takes that half away with her. The few days we have together always go so fast and then it's so long before I can see her again... life's not fair. Although saying that, getting to see her at all is so worth how much I miss her when I leave.

It always makes me wonder, thinking about this; why is it that we can be surrounded all day every day by people we're acquainted with, people we don't like, people we don't even know, and yet the one person I wish could be here isn't. I'm jealous of people who pass Cora in the street because at least they have the chance to go up and hug her if they wanted to (not that they would. I mean, I adore hugs, but even I would find it a bit weird if some random person came up to me and hugged me in the street. It'd be like one of the... 'different' people at college coming up and talking to you for ages about whether or not to add you on Facebook (give them a fake name. Just take my word for it. DO NOT TELL THEM YOUR NAME.) They will stalk you.)

Why, of everybody I pass on a daily basis, why are they here and not Cora? Why can't I swap one of them so I can have my best friend here with me like everyone else has theirs? And yet I know that what we have is deeper than normal friendship; it is unbreakable by things that would be detrimental to other friendships - like distance, for example. I know that when I go to uni I will lose touch with people whose company I very much enjoy at the moment, not because I want to but simply because it's hard to keep a friendship going when you sluice away some of the immediacy and intimacy that comes with seeing a person on a day-to-day basis. But Cora and I have built our friendship on so many coincidences - on an internet connection, on both of us being free at the same time, on me posting that fateful comment in the first place, on us both having enough credit to text each other (thank GOD for BBM, it is the BEST invention ever for overseas friends - the hours of conversation we've clawed back from both being in possession of a BlackBerry is incredible)... we have a relationship reliant on technology and therefore distance will never be a problem for us communication wise. But it still sucks. More than it's possible to describe.

All those months of anticipation and excitement we endure before we see each other and then it's over in a flash; not having your best friend there to hug when simply nobody else will do; not being able to look at them when a private joke comes up in conversation and know they're thinking what you're thinking... and then, on a bigger scale, what if something happened to one of us and nobody thought to tell the other? What if she, the person I am truly scared to lose, just disappeared from my life, or I from hers... what would she think? How would I feel, never knowing? (Those of you who know both of us: this is now your responsibility. If anything ever happens to me, you know what you have to do.) This is a really basic, really crappy description, but it is impossible to put into words what I feel regarding this.

This has turned into quite a random post, but since we're on this subject: think about it. Think about your best friend, think about how it would feel to have her or him a thousand miles away from you, or disappear without telling you, and then go and tell them how much they mean to you. It's important that you tell people these things because, morbid as it may be, people don't last forever, and it's a shame that we have to rely on things like death to make us say the words we really mean.

Molly x