Tuesday, July 25, 2006

That'll be the day

Struck recently by the sadness of growing up and the leaving behind that comes with it. Rather a bizarre time to be so affected by this as I'm now sorting my life out (again) and doing all the things people tell me I should have done four years ago. (Thank God I can still do them, but THANK GOD I didn't do them then... Yesterday I went to the pub with a bunch of people from my sixth form. It's a most peculiar feeling to be with people you spent two years being sick with, pulling, bitching about, etc. now that the normal rules of adult behaviour suddenly apply again. You're thinking 'why have I got nothing to say?' but it's actually because it's no longer appropriate to mention that so-and-so has gained weight, noone has any hot gossip on anyone else and you're just not used to discussing art and music with these people. The only one with whom seemed most normal was my friend Hank. Although this is probably just because noone could help loving Hank. People he passes on the tube probably fling themselves to the ground and adore him as he walks by. He's been in the States for the past two years but he's moving home in September, probably... great news for London. Actually my former next-door-neighbour Celia was just as great as she always has been as well. Although I've never wanted to worship her with my body. She's a touch more ascerbic than Hank. Also visited my family home, thinking about parties that had been and gone. My little sister reminds me of long summer days where you're either guiltlessly doing absolutely nothing at all or partying your brains into mush. Things were so black and white in those days. Moods, friendships, everything was extreme. A girl I used to party with, Sylvie, came round and had a glass of white wine and some olives in the bright sunshine of the familial garden. I never see her these days and it felt almost like a wake for the people we used to be. She blames (partly) older men and I guess it's true that her boyfriend and mine are nearer thirty than twenty and not getting any wilder either... Today we have an interview with our prospective landlord, our new flatmate's mother. I didn't have a shower this morning and have been cycling around in dirty cotton shorts and a very skimpy turquoise bikini I got free from a magazine. I know Lovebird has ironed a shirt but... when I think about clothes touching me I feel sick. Almost definitely a part of growing up I haven't succumbed to- wearing sensible clothes. Although hardly any of my clothes have holes in anymore and when I dribble toothpaste down my t-shirt I now change it before going to work. I'm probably in a stronger position, Peter Pan-wise, than most people my age. Having spent the last three years working I know how great it is already to be able to stay out as late as you like and spend your money how you like. And somewhere along the way I somehow did grow up. And so now with my new, mature outlook, I'm setting out to enjoy student fun for the next three years. Whoopee!!!! The author has just received a university acceptance letter and is considering getting a credit card.

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