‘Mediocre Love’

This afternoon I got back from a shopping trip with my best friend and thought I’d have a wander around Facebook. I’d bought a skirt that turned out to be too big and I’ll have to return it so I was trying to cheer myself up. So anyway whilst meandering through pictures of people’s lunch, posts about being sad today with no given reason why and lots of drawn on eyebrowed, duck faced girls I came across this picture some deep meaningful individual had posted…

Now I’m quite mushy and romantic, I love all that sort of thing but this struck me as quite odd. It’s odd because it begs the question, what is extraordinary? How can you measure how much you love someone?  Does love have to be ‘passionate’ all the time? I thought love could be lots of different things, contentment, happiness, painful, confusing, irrational, life changing amongst many other things.

I thought to myself, you can make any story seem ‘extraordinary’ because is any person’s life and love ordinary?

Ordinary – With no special or distinctive features; normal.

Me and Matthew (my boyfriend) have been seeing each other for around 5 months now and I am pretty certain I could tun it into a epically romantic tale full of drama and passion, madness and heat.

However

That’s not what our relationship is about. Well some of it is passion, some of it is drama but a lot of it is laughing and fun, being silly, teasing each other and making each others days a little brighter. When I write about the fact sometimes we hold each other until we fall asleep just so we know we’re close it sounds extremely romantic. At the time it just feels like where I should be.

When he leaves little notes on my phone just because he knows they make me smile, I don’t read into it.When I kiss him on the forehead I’m sure his first thoughts are ‘that wasn’t passionate enough!’ So I find it silly to say it’s a waste of time doing things that make you smile, even if they aren’t mad or weird or odd. If what’s extraordinary to you is that there’s someone in the world you want to hold really tight because they’re the first thing you think about in the morning and the last face you see before you go to sleep, then I think that’s an amazing use of time.

But then that’s just me,

Becca

A short blog post about secrets in relationships.

I think this is the third time this week I’ve started a blog post. Usually started them because I’m bored, this time it’s because I’m waiting for my potatoes to boil. Having a dull kind of week, nothing ground breaking has happened in life. Feeling full of cold, although I’m not sure if I’m developing hay fever. Most interesting revelation being that I discovered my boyfriend however has a new blog…which he doesn’t want to share.

This got me thinking…dangerous I know…should it bother me he doesn’t want to show me?

At first it did a little bit. I’m pretty open about most things, well I think I am, and come to the conclusion that the only reason he must not want me to read it is because there’s something there that he doesn’t want me to know or must be keeping from me. I have a habit however of jumping to the worst conclusion possible and then dwelling on it for days until its become the equivalent of a national catastrophe in my brain.

Should couples tell each other everything though? Or rather should they have places they can keep their secrets, have a bit of me time and in short escape from the world? I have a diary, if anyone read it I’d not only be mortified but I’d probably insult or shock everyone close to me. But if he demanded to see it I’d think he was being totally unreasonable because it’s my private thoughts and not all thoughts are good. There’s also things in there I wouldn’t want him to read because they’re sickeningly sweet and would only give him ammunition to make fun of me.

I’ve never been one of those girls who needs to be involved in each and every part of their partners life but my last relationship left me with some cracking trust issues so I’m more wary of people than I ever was. I’ve never been amazingly good at being in relationships anyway but luckily I’ve found someone who shares a lot of my issues and fears. So when I want space he gets it, when I say I want to take it slow (snail with large pack on back slow) he agrees and when he says he doesn’t want me to read his blog, then that’s fair enough.

Becca

Mrs Cellophane.

I assume everyone has felt like this at some point. Completely and utterly ignored. Today has been a biblical scale disaster and I feel the size of a full stop. I don’t want sympathy, I’d just like to have my feelings acknowledged. It’s not a lot to ask. But as far as understanding family and friends go, I’ve come up short this evening.

A verse or so from Chicago’s ‘Mr Cellophane’ pretty much sums up how I’m feeling this evening.

If someone stood up in a crowd
And raised his voice up way out loud
And waved his arm and shook his leg
You’d notice him

If someone in the movie show
Yelled “Fire in the second row
This whole place is a powder keg!”
You’d notice him

And even without clucking like a hen
Everyone gets noticed, now and then,
Unless, of course, that personage should be
Invisible, inconsequential me!

Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
‘Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I’m there…

 

Becca

PERIODS. Yes I said it.

I’m sat in bed feeling sorry for myself having come home from Matthew’s and cried most of the way home.

I detest my mood swings.

Yes, it’s that time of the month for me. Not really a taboo subject for a blog because the fact is most woman go through it and if you don’t like reading about it then you can go off and read another blog. It’s just a natural part of life. However this evil, red miracle of nature is the bane of my life this month as I feel like at any moment I’ll turn green and start destroying buildings. Though I wouldn’t make much of a hulk, I’m only 5 foot 3. 

But really what is so wrong about talking about it? My manager, father, male friends cannot stand the subject. You say ‘women’s problems’ and they practically hold their hands over their ears. They also hate it when you use it as a reason behind unusual mood swings, ‘you can’t use that excuse every month!!’. It’s not exactly an enjoyable experience for us either.

I’m not usually bad on the anger/mood swing/hulk behaviour front but this month I seem to have the personality of  Jaws one moment and Moaning Myrtle the next.It may be cliche and very Bridget Jones but right now all I want is an ice cream tub bigger than my head, a crap film and my oversized quilt.

My boyfriends had me for 6 hours today and to be honest the fact I managed to save crying until after I’d left him was nothing short of miraculous. I wanted to stay at his and cuddle up and be loved for the night but unfortunately for me and the red demon he has work tomorrow. So I drove home half blind because I was crying like a moron, in the pouring rain and so my driving skills must have been at their best. Anyone behind me must have thought I was mad or drunk.

Why were you crying? I hear you ask. Other than the fact I couldn’t stay with Matt, my stomach hurt and I felt like a fat mess I have no clue. It’s just the way it works. Anything sets you off.

So on behalf of the tearful, the unreasonable, the outrageously annoying and unbearable women who are going through this fantastic week in their month I would like to point out that getting mad only makes us worse, trying to be funny does not help but getting us some chocolate, a quilt and a cuddle plus keeping quiet for the duration of a film may help. Either that or go to the pub.

Becca

Rule: A usual, customary, or generalized course of action or behaviour.

I’ve not written a blog post in well over a week, but I’ve been really busy in fairness. Lately I’ve been thinking about rules, I spend a lot of time thinking about ‘should’, ‘must’ and ‘ought”s. By this I mean I worry that I’m doing things wrong or feelings things wrong. Yes, I worry a lot, I am a born a worrier and will probably worry myself into an early grave.

There’s a lot of rules in life though, things that we think we ought to do. Things we sometimes don’t want to do but feel obliged to. When I first applied to University looking back now I’m 99% sure I did it because I never thought I could or should do anything else, it was just the normal thing to do and what all my friends were doing. It was also what my family wanted.

What we think we ought to do probably varies between different cultures, families, groups of friends…when I was younger I moved in with my first boyfriend because it was what I thought I wanted but also because I thought it’s what I should do. From being young I’ve assumed couples live in each others pockets, move in, get married, have babies and live happily ever after…but there’s lots of different types of couples and there’s lots of people who didn’t go to University who are perfectly happy.

I also worry about what doing something differently means. I really enjoy living at home, but I feel like it makes me seem dependant or weak. To quote Downton Abbey, being homesick means I come from a happy home and there’s no shame in that is there? Is it so wrong for people to do what they want rather than what’s expected of them? Or sometimes what they assume is expected of them.

Maybe people should focus more on what makes themselves happy because the thing is what people expect changes. 100 years ago a couple living together out of marriage in this country and most others was scandalous and a woman being the breadwinner for her family extremely rare.  Now it’s normal for people to do 101 different things with their love-life, career, children and lives. In the end I’d rather do something to make myself happy, as selfish as it sounds. If it’s a choice about my life, I’m going to endeavour in future to do what I want even if I don’t do it the accepted or conventional way.

Life’s too short to worry about what I ought to be doing. They say rules were made to be broken anyway,

Becca

 

It’s fun being a girl?

“I believe in manicures. I believe in overdressing. I believe in primping at leisure and wearing lipstick. I believe in pink. I believe happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day, and… I believe in miracles.” – Audrey Hepburn

Good morning, right at this moment in time I am sat undressed on my bedroom floor covered in my seaweed face mask thinking about the ridiculous things women do to look pretty. I actually can’t move my face at the moment and it’s really itchy but I still have five minutes left to cook. 

I’m not a woman obsessed with her beauty regimen by any stretch of the imagination but at the risk of sounding big headed I’ve never had to try to stay slim and I’ve never really been overly fussed by having fake nails, eyelashes, extensions…the list goes on. Or maybe I’m just in denial because a lot of things are hard wired into us now as being the norm.

I always shave my legs, underarms and various other bits just because I know I probably should…but should I? I’d feel weird if I didn’t, I’ve been shaving my legs since before I was old enough to have them on display for anything other than school. I dye my hair every four weeks and it’s just routine, I wear contacts instead of glasses and tell myself it’s for convenience, put make up on before I go out just because I feel half dressed if I don’t. But I don’t see myself as that bothered with my appearance. I guess what’s normal for each of us is different. 

I used to have a best friend who moaned at me for always wearing make-up, I don’t wear truck loads or put it on with a trowel but the second I whipped my mascara out she’d feel the need to give me a ten minute lecture. The thing I couldn’t live without though is my foundation, as a sufferer of eternally blemished skin I spend a fortune on good quality foundation and concealer, it makes me feel safe. The friend I was referring to had lovely clear skin and never understood my need for make up but then everyone has different reasons behind what they do.

What we do though comes in and out of fashion, 5 years ago pencilling your eyebrows to within an inch of their life would have come across strange but I’ve seen beach blonde girls with thick black eyebrows when I’ve been out shopping recently. It didn’t look bad, it just looked different but it made me think that a lot of what we do to ourselves or put ourselves through goes in and out of fashion. 

If I stopped doing all the bits and bobs that I do though I’d feel awful. I went camping for a weekend before and the first thing I did when i got back was have the longest shower known to man and de-fuzzed. So maybe I do this to make myself feel better, maybe I do it to feel safer or maybe it’s just because I like being a girl. Anyway time to wash this off of my face so I can raise an eyebrow without showering myself in clay,

Becca

 

A job…my kingdom for a job!

I was going to reread some of my posts just now but then decided there was no point reading some of the posts I wrote a month ago when I was sad. I’d rather focus on the here and now today. Well I’ve hardly posted this week, it’s been a pretty good week in honesty. I’ve done a few jobs I needed to do, seen the Mr a couple of days, the best friend a couple of evenings so not a bad week. I also managed to finally ask my manager for more hours at work as I’m at lose ends now I’ve pretty much finished Uni.

It’s a strange feeling to have finally finished education. When I finished school I knew I’d be doing A-levels. When I finished those I knew I’d be going on to University but now I’m not sure where I’ll be in a year. It’s also a scary thought that finishing education means I’m actually adult. Legally I’ve been an adult for nearly 4 years now but it feels much more final. I’ll have no more summer holidays, no more dreading September coming round, it’s just extremely odd.

Applying for jobs is a nightmare. Endless testing, applications, cv uploads, assessments, the list is endless. It’s disheartening applying for numerous jobs, internships and graduate programmes and getting not only turned down but no feedback or guidance as to why you’re not good enough or what you could have done differently. I think sometimes it comes down to luck. You never know who’s on the other end of the application process analysing your every achievement.

I think I’d like a little while off anything too strenuous anyway after 8 years of solid studying. Well I’d like to just work for a bit before I decide what my next move is, but then I guess if something that was an amazing opportunity came along I’d grab it with both hands. A job isn’t the key to my happiness but I like to support myself. As best I can anyway.

Becca

DIY with your partner…JUST NO.

You think that at nearly 22 years old I would know that you should never, under no circumstance do DIY with a boyfriend. I’m currently sat watching Matt put together the heaviest wardrobe in the history of wardrobes, he now has sore hands, a sweaty body and a look of pure evil which is being aimed in my general direction. I feel I’m going to owe him a lot of love and attention after this.

He’s advised me to stay well out of the way and write my blog, so I am taking his advice.

On the bright side it means I don’t have to build it myself, I wouldn’t have been able to lift it as I’m quite small. I like being small though, it means I can wear heels and still not be ridiculously tall, I can sneak through crowds and I actually don’t mind the lack of leg room on aeroplanes much. Not as much as a 6’5 man would anyway, however when it comes to building wardrobes I’m at a slight disadvantage.

I’m not actually bad at DIY, I enjoy it but I’m not only at a disadvantage with my height but strength as well. It makes me wonder how I got my job because when it comes to throwing stock around there are not many people who are as ineffective as me. Not that I’m bad at my job I don’t think, I just try and make up for my lack of strength and height by working more quickly and neatly. Whether it works or not I do not know but I’m sure I’ll find out during my next review.

Anyway lesson today, do not do DIY with your other half, do it with your worst enemy if you’re short and weak like me because then you can shout and scream at them instead of cowering in a corner with your laptop.

Becca

3 years, 5 bedrooms, 1 girl.

Sat here watching The Voice with my parents after a very odd shift at work. The first half of my shift went sooooo slowly, mainly because Matt wasn’t in until 2. This is really sad I realise but I was in a horrible mood and he cheers me up, when he’s in a good mood anyway. If he’s in a bad mood I just want to hit him on the back of the head, in a nice way of course.

Anyway! This weeks been a toughy. I took a few steps backwards but hopefully I’m going forwards again now, everyone’s allowed bad weeks. On a brighter note, I’ve painted my bedroom at home so now it feels more like mine. The story to this is extremely long but in the last 3 years I have had 5 different bedrooms. This really annoys me because I was extremely attached to my original room, I’d been in there from being 3 to 20 .

Move number one happened when I moved in with my then boyfriend. Technically I had two rooms with him because before we got a house of our own we were at his mums for months but as I was only in the house 2 months we’ll call the whole move one time.

Sharing a bedroom with someone is weird. Well I guess it’s not weird but it never felt like I had somewhere that was purely my own. Somewhere to avoid everyone, watch my old-lady tv programmes and pretend the world didn’t exist. When and if I decide to ever move in with someone I maintain it should be a 3 bedroom house. One room for us, one bedroom for me and one for him. This might sound strange and a little against tradition, but I like my space! It used to drive me nuts not being able to have flowery bedding or pretty candles because he didn’t like them. We had a PS3 in the room, WHY NO CANDLES??

So move number move number two was obviously after we’d broken up and I came home, I was back in my old room for long enough to redecorate it exactly how I wanted it, pink and as feminine as humanly possible…then my sister got pregnant. I love my sister, she’s one of the only people I will share a bed with. So when she decided to ask her boyfriend to move in I gave up my room because it was bigger and there was more room for her, David and in time Harry. So I redid her room to my taste and I was in there for around 6 months…

The third move came about because of three reasons. The first reason was because I was worried that I wouldn’t get any work done with a new born baby in the house screaming at all hours, the second because my nana was ill and I felt I’d be better out of the house and also because I wanted to finally see what Uni life was like. So my uni room was my fourth room, big high ceilings, cold constantly (pictures above) but I did love it. I still love it but it’s just not right for me for where I am right now.

And so this is why we have the fourth move. As much as I liked living at Uni, I love my family and I love my friends who weren’t there. In tough times I just like being at home. This move is a little sad because I haven’t come home to the room I moved out of, but my nana’s old room.

My painting skills!

She passed away the week before I left for Uni, so I let Harry have a nursery in the room I did have and I now live downstairs. I’m making it more my own now, repainting it and buying things for it. It’s now a lovely shade of purple Matt helped me pick.

Does your bedroom mean a lot to you though? I used to think it did matter, but it’s more the things I put in my room that mean a lot to me and whether it’s somewhere I can call mine. So if I let someone stay over, or even come over to mine, they’re usually very special because I’m particular about my space…it’s just the way I am.

Becca

10 things I hate about you.

Dear Brain,

At the moment I can sincerely say that without a shadow of a doubt I hate you.

1. I hate the way you’re making me feel. I hate the person I can feel myself becoming. Avoiding things because you’ll make me feel bad for them, things that I should be able to do without any thought at all.

2. I hate that you’ve decided I have only one way out, that you’ve turned the thing I love into something that terrifies me and keeps me awake at night. You have no right to do this to me, to make my choices for me.

3. I hate the way you over think every tiny detail and see things that aren’t there. You make my problems one thousand times worse and numb every happy feeling so that I have to fight to get up in the morning.

4. I hate the way you aren’t ever certain, as much as you try to tell me running away and being alone is the answer you also know the pain you could cause. If you know what you’re doing, why won’t you stop?

5. I hate how you never let me relax, I’m always on red alert, looking for things to be wrong.

6. I hate that you make me push people away, sometimes the people I need the most, the ones who have my best interests at heart. I can;t stand that you’ve become a divide between me and my loved ones, you need to let them in.

7. I hate how self destructive you make me. I’ve never been a coward before, but you make me want to run away, bury my head in the sand and escape from my own life. I should love my life right now, I’m young, intelligent and surrounded by wonderful people, who are you to ruin everything I’ve worked for?

8. I hate that I have to do battle with you every day. Can’t you take a day off making my life a misery? You make me so tired, my body can only handle so much.

9. I hate the way you make me feel ugly, like I’m not worth anything. You make me feel like there’s something wrong with me and that I deserve this torture, that I don’t deserve to be happy. I’ve done bad things, I’ve made wrong choices, but they were my choices and you won’t punish me for them by making me feel worthless.

10. Most of all I hate how you’ve changed my wonderful life, how you’ve hurt the people around me. 2 months ago I was content, I was on the right path, things weren’t perfect but things are never perfect. You and your anxiety issues have turned me into something I’m not. I don’t like being selfish, I don’t like being sad and angry. I don’t like spending my time dwelling on things.

One day I want to be able to have a life with a partner, move out, have children, go on holidays, how can I if you can’t get over yourself long enough to let me love another human being without feeling guilty or be away from my mother without thinking the sky is falling in?

Right now all I want to do is enjoy what is more than likely going to be my last summer not working in a proper job. But yet again like times before you’re trying to tear me away from something I’ve fought hard for. I’m tired after a month of fighting against you, but I know I can’t let you win.

But here you are making me write a blog post about you instead of living. At the moment I feel like I’m existing.

There’s no point to life unless you live it.

Becca