It's 12.30pm and I'm currently sat on my bed, dipping Oreos into milk. Oh how very American of me! They've got the right idea over there with food though, minus McDonalds. McDonalds have ruined my face. I believe burgers should come with warnings on their box, because I really don't remember their side effects amidst a bout of severe hunger. An American food place that gets the thumbs up from me, even though I don't know anything about it, is “Taco Bell”. I heard some kid on the telly once exclaiming it, “Ohmygawd! Taco Bell!” and I really wished we had one over here - that's if I rightly assumed they sell tacos there, they could sell bells, or neither of those things... We have a Boots over here but they don't sell boots, and Priceless Shoes is rather a decieving name as they just sell pairs of shits.
I got my first proper craving – it's tomatoes. What a rubbish craving that is. I wanted to be one of these fantastic women who go to all lengths to find coal to lick because they sense an iron deficency in their blood, then I'd really have something to talk about. Instead I get lousy old tomatoes, which I liked anyway, aren't anything out of the ordinary and frankly, are crap!
Last year in this month I was starting college to do my BTEC First Diploma in Music Performance. I was really adamant on going to a college in a different town to the one I live in, because I didn't want any reminders of my past and I didn't want people who knew me when I lived a reckless life to have preconcieved ideas of me. I wanted to start a complete fresh, that's why I didn't mind catching the two trains that took me an hour to get there and recieving the constant telling off from my tutors when I arrived late. I remember spending hours the night before the big first day stressing over the importance of finding the perfect outfit. I can perfectly recall my mum's “how did a daughter of mine end up such a bimbo?” face when I said, “If I pick the wrong thing to wear, people's opinions of me will be set the wrong way forever!” Now I know that my blonde hair, glittery eye make up, leather jacket, white tshirt with some kiddish logo on, denim skirt, black tights and black fake Uggs really didn't matter. By the end of the year, I'd changed so much through college and finally got a sense of individuality. I was a gingertop, wearing band tshirts, tartan pants and my big hefty (beloved) Dr. Martens. I owe a lot to that college. I'd gone straight there with shattered confidence from having the worst thing in the world happen to me, the worst high-school experiences in the world and a year of homeschooling hermitness. I was obsessed with what people might think of me and I was terrified they might not like me. About a month into the course, I realised that I was on a course full of boys who were all musicians who didn't give a shit about life, loved dope, guitars and tattoos. The way to be liked was not to be Miss Pretty or Miss “Hehe, do you like my new hairband?” but to be myself, which was luckily, a more girly version of one of the lads.
I'll admit, over the week I've been getting a little sad about not doing the next course, the two year one, equivalent to 3 A-Levels. Through that college I got to record, perform and best of all; have music put to the songs I wrote. I love songwriting and singing, music is my passion. I know that it just wouldn't be possible to do the walking to the train station and from the train station in the winter, heavily pregnant. I know that I'd hate doing a full-time course when baby's here and I know that I'm getting such a wonderful thing in replace of what I had, something so much better, but it's natural to feel a bit sad every once in a while, right? Today I enrolled for a part time course at the big local college, the one that everyone goes to, so I guess that's what's brought it on. I decided to go back to my English roots, my love for reading and writing will probably get me somewhere further than my love of music ever could anyway – so I'm doing an English A-Level. I just go in on a Monday of every week for a couple of hours. I also enrolled at an even more local college, (literally, this tiny shithole down the road from me) to retake my Maths GCSE, and do a Physiology one (apparently it's easier than actual Science, which I desperately fail at.)
Not wanting to completely abandon music, I joined a band with a girl I know who plays bass, a girl I know who plays drums and the bassist's boyfriend who plays guitar. We had the first practice the other day, this could've also brought on my missing-college feelings. I realised I wouldn't be able to work with them the same as I could with the guys in some of the bands I was in for our college projects who were all mega talented. The bassist was extremely moody and untalkative and the drummer got too carried away with her drumming. The guitarist didn't even turn up. Promising eh? But we'll see I guess. I'm not going to be completely pessimistic about everything, because I've done a good thing haven't I? I'm going to be a mummy, but I'm not going to give up my life and forget who I am. I'm aiming higher as they say, going back and getting the qualifications I should've got ages ago and still carrying on singing, whilst my biggest dream is getting closer to coming true. My biggest dream is to be a parent, and I know that everything else, all these emotions I go through because this happened in my life and that happened to me, the reasons behind all my daily worrying and stressing will all seem so trivial once my tiny little angelface is here.
It's 2.07 now. I've been very slow at writing this, but I'm glad I did because it's made me tired at last. I think I'm going to go get some more Oreos to snack on, go for a wee and then hit the pillow, the uncomfy one with a Paddington Bear case on it. Super stylish.