Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor, Rich Man, Poor Man, Bar Tender, Chef.

Someone who I trust told me yesterday that it's hard to keep friendships and relationships alive when your friends work in the same industry as you.
Does that mean it's not worth it? NO. NO. NO.

If anything these people will understand you more, making it easier to be friends; you understand how the job works, what the hours are like, how you feel at the end of the day, what you're expected to do.
Who is going to understand that a chef doesn't finish work until 11pm at night better, than a bar tender who sometimes doesn't get home till 3am? It's the tricks of the trade, I'm afraid - but having someone that understands; that makes it worth it.

If I had to go home every night to a paper-pusher who worked 9-5, 5 days a week , it could never work.   I'd be tired, they wouldn't get it. And when they would want to go out, I'd be working.

Just a little thought really, that maybe it isn't that hard to keep friendships and relationships with those who work in the same industry as you. You just have to allow for certain things, and take advantage of the time off you have together - it may be sparing.
Still, I think having people around in general who understand you is better than having people around you who appreciate, but who don't get you.

Maybe that's just the way I feel. Maybe it's just me.
Lex. xxx

Nothing is (ever) what it seems.

Sometimes you create an idea in your head, the way something in your future will be. You always paint the trees taller than they actually are, or accentuate someones eyes bigger than they actually are.
When I was younger I imagined that the friends I made at University would be with me for the rest of my life. I imagined that at least two of the girls I'd meet would become my best friends, we'd be inseperable, I'd be in their weddings, pseudo-Aunt to their eventual-kids that kind of thing. I'd rely on the boys I'd meet to be the brothers I didn't have growing up. They'd look out for me, but still be there for the banter.
But I look at my life, and maybe that's not how real life works. Maybe I just expected too much.

Coming to University may not have been what I expected, but it's been epically (sp!?) wonderful in other ways.

Lonely Schmonely

So, it's a Wednesday night. BOP night, if you're a University student, just a regular mid-week night if you're not. It's 20:47 and I've just put Di Caprio's Shutter Island on in an empty house. I know this is a bad choice, because having seen it before I know it is a mentally freaky movie, and therefore will freak me out when I go to bed later in my big empty house, but hey. What's a little fear every now and again?

I'm realizing tonight that it's okay to be lonely occasionally. Lonely is easier than being surrounded by people who don't really care.

lone·ly/ˈlōnlē/

Adjective:

Sad because one has no friends or company. Without companions; solitary: "passing long lonely hours looking onto the street".

I'm not sad about my loneliness, simply because I know this'll be so, SO, different one day.

I'm looking forward to waking up in the morning, and making coffee for two. 
I'm looking forward to clambering into bed in the middle of the night, sliding in next to you. 
I'm looking forward to laying here with you on the sofa.
So you should get used to be, nightly, pulling you closer. 

I don't mind being lonely, because I know this time next year everything will be completely different.
And I'm excited for it.
Lex. xxxxx

Trusting Me, Trusting You. Oh, I'm trusting you.

I trust my best friends. All of them, however admiteddly, some more than others.
There isn't anything I can do about that.

People don't always understand that when you fall for someone, part of falling for them means that you trust them, without a shadow of a doubt, and you believe them over anyone else.
That's just the way it is.
Even if they have multiple reasons (relevant or otherwise) to believe him to not be being truthful, they can scream blue murder at me, and I'm always likely to side with my person.

Just simply because no one understands the connection between two people, unless you are one of the two involved.
No one else can question it; that's just the way it is.
This is why people don't understand when I say things that they don't believe are true, they question it and I don't care,. it wont change my opinion; simply because I trust him endlessly. I'd trust him with my life.

End of chat. Sorry. :)
Lex.

A Change In Heart

Remember the girl in your college, who was quite happy to be alone, because she didn't have the time or patience to be with anyone else? That was the same girl who couldn't be bothered with other people, so she put herself first. She did pretty well, she got her grades, she knew what she was doing. She was smart. But she had particular views on relationships and love.

People who had the typical happy relationships were silly; you shouldn't put your needs second to someone like that. You should be your priority, and there is no way you can be 17 and in love.

The two don't equate. You have to love yourself before you can love someone else.

 

Now, that same girl, is realising maybe she was wrong. Although romance and lovey-dovey public displays of affection used to make the girl wretch, and roll her eyes at her friends - now she has a different view on the world.
A semi-typcial story of boy meets girl enables her to now be feeling things she thought never existed. Love was never real emotion, and now it's what her world revolves around. Isn't it funny, how one person, the one the world told you you weren't meant to be with, can change your whole perception on the world? 

 

My name's Alexandra, although now mainly I answer to Lex. I'm not conforming to a romantic being, or losing my initial ideas on relationships - I'm merely growing up, and learning that life can be so much better if you accept you may have to let someone in occasionally. I've met someone who is so amazing, I never thought I could feel things like this for someone. I thought I was emotionally crippled, destined to never be in love and get married due to various upbringing strategies. Now however, I can lay with the person I love and happily muse about our life together.

 

This is what growing up does to you - it makes you see things in a new light. A better light. Being 20 may be the worst idea that I have ever had, but if next year brings as many good as things as this year has, bring on 2013.

Being in love with someone teaches you that although you need to look after yourself, it teaches you foremost that someone else can matter just as much. And remember when I once said that you can't love anyone else until you love you? Not true. He loves me enough for the both of us.

 

 

Next time.

Lex.

Did you want some coffee? Yeah, alright. Did you wanna get married? Uh, yeah sure.

And that's it. Apparently, that's how simple it is nowadays.
What IS it with people my age getting engaged all of a sudden?

Two people that played significant parts of my childhood have recently announced their engagements to their other halves, and I can't help but wonder....
Where did the girl go, who ran around Sittingbourne with me, singing Take That at the tops of our voices and laughing about utterly ridiculous crap? She's now stiletto ridden on the weekends, with a car, and now apparently a fiancee.

The other 20 year old who has recently facebooked the "happy news" was my first kiss. The older, attractive  musician he was to me back then has completely faded, and he's just another shittingbourne turn out.

Why are people getting married so young now? What happened to wanting to see the world? Travelling? Getting your heart broken, and learning to be strong enough to pick up the pieces and put yourself back together again? Loving ourselves before we could love anyone else?

No? Is it only me that wants that?
Okay, fine.

My night in A&E

Friday 13th is usually a pretty good day for me. I do believe in certain superstitions, Magpies and whatnot, but as 13 is my lucky number, I've never had any bad luck on Friday's that happened to fall on the 13th.
That was true, up until this year.
As the clock ticked over to Friday 13th of July 2012, I was sat, alone, just having had an x-ray to check if I had any shards of glass in my hand. It turns out I didn't, but I'll fill you in on what happened anyways.

7pm (Thurs 12, July); I literally am dying to go home at this point, I've been at work since 10:30am and all I want to do is go home, have a shower and an early night.

7.20pm (Thurs, 12 July); A guy had just come over to the tills, where I was stood, to let me know he'd just smashed a tester on the floor, by accident. No big deal, I said, I'll call a cleaner. But just before I had intended to, I thought I'd survey the damage myself.
Attempting to clear the larger sections of glass out of other customers way, I picked some up and took them to bin, just as I stood up from crouching, from collecting my second lot, my left foot slipped out from underneath me, and I couldn't do anything but put my hands out in front of me to catch my fall. It was only in doing so, that I sliced a piece of the glass through my left ring finger, just below the knuckle.

8pm; Having been picked up by a random member of staff who didn't belong to my concession, I was taken to the office, had some forms filled out, and had the first aider come to see me. Next thing I knew, I was on the way to The Whittington hospital in North London to get stitches.

10pm; I was now at The Whittington, having been through triage, just waiting. Seeing as I was slightly less important than the man with half a bike-pedal in his leg, I didn't really mind waiting at this stage.

11pm; Still waiting. Bike man was now gone, and everyone else being called through had no obvious ailments. I was seriously considering taking a nap on the floor of the A&E.

11.45pm; I sent my colleague home, as I was called in (FINALLY) to be looked at by an on-call doctor, who looked at my hand and made it bleed a little more,  only to finally make me squirm as she pulled off the two plasters my first aider had put on (never ever put plasters on an untreated laceration) Then eventually she sent me for an X-Ray.

 12:30am (Friday 13, July); Waiting on the other side of the door now. The door that separates the waiting room from the ward, and everyone knows it's always better to be on the ward side than on the waiting room side. I had had my x-ray, and no glass was left it seems, which is good, and no visible nerve or tendon damage, which is also good.

1am (Friday 13, July); Now I was sat in a procedure room having DR Josie Small attend to my wound. First of all, she cleaned it up, which hurt what I thought was a lot, then she started the ring-block anasthetic. Oh holy Christ did that hurt! Imagine jamming a needle into your digit 8 times? Right, now imagine doing that when you already have a giant laceration on your finger. It hurt more than a Tragus piercing. And that is saying something. But after, thank God, I was completely numb. I couldn't feel anything as I watched her put three simple stitches into my finger.
"Tough skin" she said, when she couldn't get the needle through. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I don't want tough, ugly builders hands.

2am; (Friday 13, July); and now I was home. Crawling into my bed, tired, deflated and not wanting to go into work in 9 hours. Thankfully, my boss text me telling me I was in no way to come to work, and that I should rest.

And thus concludes my one and only trip to A & E to get stitches.
I can safely say I won't be doing that in a hurry.

LT