Saturday 28 May 2011

Riding Solo.


Singlesville is a strange place.
After being committed for over a year (unthinkably long for my previously commitment-phobe self) I'm back in the big scary world of rejection, bum grabs and nights alone.
I think it may be insensitive to go into details about the actual break up so I'm gunna stick with it was mutual, it was civil and there was a lot of tears (from me).

Being on my own has not been at all as I'd expected. Well, I did expect to be sad and I did expect to be lonely and those expectations are now reality but I did think I'd get that 'free' feeling. The 'single and ready to mingle' type of feelings. But I haven't.

I've felt scared shitless of lots of things including just going to uni and having to talk to people about it and explain and smile and laugh along like I normally would. But all the while I've been undergoing intervals of fighting back tears and zoning out and just wanting to be in my bed with the light off slowly saturating my pillow with salty tears.

That sounds ridiculously dramatic but I'm being honest. The first day I came home and cried for about 6 hours. Who knew that was possible?

I've felt panicked a lot of the time. Panic of whether it was the right decision or how I was ever going to brave night clubs again. The jungle of Singleville is scarier than I could have predicted.

I know that things will be easier and its not like I just cry and sit listening to Dido playing a tiny violin to myself all day. (although I did put Dido on for a while and then realised I was the cliche of all cliches, clutching photos of myself and him gasping through snot filled sniffles.)

I've been excited about going home for the Summer, seeing my mummy and my friends, rediscovering my love of bizarre fashion and reading through diaries in bed with endless amounts of tea and guilty pleasure television (Glee, Gossip Girl, Big Cook Little Cook etc).

But I went out last night and I felt strange. I over-compensated for my fears with alcohol resulting in slurring and making new best friend's with virtually anyone in the toilets. I danced with boys but not in a sexy way, in a childs birthday party way, and even that I felt guilty for.

Our pals Turks and Ross came back and we played drinking games with straight rum and I bent Ross' ear off whining about the break up and god knows what else for about and hour and a half and then went to sleep.

My pubes are spiralling out of control by the way, I only noticed this morning, but I know I wont be wanting any action for a long time so I'm planning a trim and not a full on session. (partly because I'd have to put aside a whole day for the job)

I went for dinner with my grandparents tonight and halfway through vomit jumped up my throat, my mouth filled with saliva and I was unbearably hot. SHIT. Hangover hell was about to erupt into my butternut squash soup.
I sat very still and sipped some water, completely ignoring whatever it was I was being told and I felt it slowly subside back into my stomach. Phew. Saved.

It's now nearly 2am and I'm not quite over my hangover. But I have had a bit of an epiphany.

I think I need to stop thinking 'I wish he was here' 'I wish was allowed to call him and text him whenever' and start realising that I'm ridiculously lucky that I've still got my best friend, even though he's not my boyfriend any more and unlikely to want to resume best pal status any time soon.
I've gone through a break-up that could have ended horribly but instead there was no hard feelings but cuddles and talks of good times.

And although I'm feeling like I'm in a foreign country, naked and with no map at least there's signs of life and the hope that there are better things to come.

My relationship was full of love and trust and laughs and I don't think I'd rather go out in flames, kicking and screaming. I'm quite happy to let the feelings slowly fade away knowing that I will always have fond memories.

Cringe-ville is over. And I haven't done a soppy emotion spilling blog in a long time, so no complaining! And try to snigger and scoff discreetly.

That's all for now
From the unstable, shit scared, but ready to face the music, Jojo xxx


Saturday 14 May 2011

The riddle war with the (almost) next door.







Hullo again!




Today I am writing a post about a strange and unexpected series of events which have commenced in the past 2 weeks.





I live with three girls. Daisy, Catrina and Holly. We don't talk to our neighbours because one side make too much noise and the other side we suspect to be a drug den/brothel.




A week or so ago we got an unusual arrival through our letterbox. It was a photo of a dog with crazed, rabies-esq eyes and on the back there was a riddle which read:




What starts with a T ends in a T and has T in it?

Return to no.28 with answer.




The girls seemed kinda creeped out but I thought it was really cool so we replied. I've got to be honest and say we did just google it, which is naughty but a lot less frustrating and time consuming. We posted back the answer and a new riddle in the a kinder surprise pod.




The following night we heard the letterbox go at about 1.am. This was not the postman. It was a second riddle.




It read:
What is greater than God, more evil than the devil, what rich people want and poor people have?

Return to no.28, stop using google and you'll get a reward.



This was exciting, yet creepy.



I should explain that 28 is two doors down from us and we have never met nor seen them.




We replied:


answer: nothing.

We didn't use google and we want out reward but only if it's nice.



And we sent a new one.



We got a reward. A surprising one. I wont tell you what it was just to add tension and enigma.




So now we have sent them 2 large mars bars with note attached:



Here is your treat, hope you like saturated fat.

Love Dianne, Camilla, Joan and Holly (we want them to think we are well posh)







So now we await a reply. its all very exciting and we hope to organise a BBQ unveiling our true identity before the year is over.






Meanwhile in my life:



Today I had my first day volunteering at Barnardo's. It was actually really fun. I got to look at cool things, press buttons, use a cool sharp gun thing to attach labels. Quite a hoot.




Made me feel good too.



I think charitable people are misunderstood. Everyone makes out that we're losers who don't have anything better to do than to care about other people.



It's not the truth.




We are selfish. We do charitable things to make us feel better about stuff.
such as:



Buying a new dress

Buying a takeaway
Stealing someones Biro
Swapping the sticker prices on a pair of shoes (GRACE DEAN)

Eating your friends last rolo

Laughing when someone falls over
Western Guilt.

Not passing exams

Not revising for exams

Not going to lectures on which exams are based.

Picking your nose.

Making dead baby jokes.



All these things are bad.bad,bad,bad.


So don't be fooled by fundraising, marathon running, penny giving, big issue buying monsters like myself.


See through the kindness and into the soul of the devil.



Too far. I'm actually alright.




That's all for now









Jojo xxx


I wrote this post listening to, but not doing: shorthand dictations.