Tuesday, 13 August 2013


(Btw, this post has been posted like 20 hours later than it was written.)

It's nearing midnight and I've already been in bed, trying, somewhat hopelessly to make myself feel better. I'm experiencing such an awful cold. My chest feels like it will cave in at any moment, and my smoker-like cough isn't helping, despite the fact I've never ever touched a cigarette. It's exhausting. I keep temporarily losing my voice and become able to do that husky/whispery/creepy voice like Voldemort. Humorous at times, but the funny side begins to run thin when you're in as much pain as I am. I guess I have myself to blame, partly, and partly my stupidly, newly-weakened immune system, but I guess I can't always go around blaming biology when I mistreat my body as much as I have been. I'm armed with my iPod, 861 songs, god knows how many hours of music at my fingertips and strumming into my ears. Willing to try anything to make myself sleep now. I've had texting marathons, scoured Twitter for hours, watched the Friends two-hour finale and snippets from Peter Kay's Tour That Didn't Tour Tour (which I also can quote word-for-word!) I've doped up on painkillers, cough sweets and caffeine, and they haven't worked either.

So...Why is it partly down to me? What have I been up to to get myself in such a mess? My untimely, hideously rough state...Well. Little old me who vowed (stupidly, naively, hopelessly) to stay in on Friday night for a (miraculous) change, ended up out. Obviously. Anyone who knows me, knows I do not stay in on a Friday night, like, ever. Yes, I can sense your surprise already. Major shock. You best take a sear, we don't want you fainting on me now do we? There's a certain irony around the fact that I'm an English student and yet I don't seem to grasp the meaning of "just a few drinks." I'm a very much all-or-nothing kinda girl. Not just with alcohol, with everything. I'm either hysterically upset and depressed and moody and sad and hateful, or I'm happy and high and smiley and loving and totally giddy. I either am (only occasionally) really careful with my money, or I manage to splurge every penny I have in my purse in ten minutes flat. I'm either quiet or really very loud. I either go bitchy or seriously nice. I went from being a shy girl to an overly-friendly drunk. How? I was introduced to a lovely little thing the Russians named Vodka. Cue my shy self to sometimes disperse completely, and my overly-friendly self to put in a sometimes unwelcome appearance.

I know what you're thinking; "okay, everyone's more confident when they've had a drink" or ten. Yes, that's why they call it dutch courage. Well, I'm certainly a shining example of what the effects of alcohol really are. If you're reading this and judging me, and ready to brand me an alcohol abuser, go ahead. You're wasting your breath, and energy. :) Anyway, yes, I have a tendency to drink too much, but I'm a student, it's part of the deal you sign when you apply with UCAS. (okay, it's an unspoken rule.) Anyhow, I tend to be what the Oxford Dictionary know as a "lightweight." I go from sober to drunk in the blink of an eye. I don't know why, but it's very rare I build up to a "drunk" state. I just somehow happen to arrive there, slightly clumsily, and without very little dignity in sight. I mean, suddenly you find yourself on your own, separated from friends, and it hits you. Everything goes blurry and seems to speed up then slow down and it's as if everything's out of sync or something. A very good, or a very bad feeling, depending on who you are and what your opinion actually is.

So, how does this relate to the post's title? Well, I got to thinking of a metaphor for my latest life events. Yes, it all sounds very geeky and deep and profound. I assure you that it doesn't tally. At first, I played around with the whole train-wreck/car crash image, but those were too miserable, too negative for what I was trying to convey. I mean, at times, yes, I suppose that applies, but my life isn't a constant train-wreck. I'm not always left picking up the pieces, hurt or distraught. And that's when it hit me. Literally. A pendulum. A pendulum, for anyone who actually doesn't know, swings backwards and forwards, according to the earth's gravitational pull. It is a constant. It carries on going. It is continuous, until it draws to a close, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. Surely that's like life, yeah? Also, it's kind of funny in my eyes that the word 'pendulum', derived from the New Latin 'pendulus' to mean 'hanging.' Yes. I'm not totally stupid, I know it means a literal form of hanging, as in, to be suspended from a height or a cord or something, but there's another meaning I'm probably more familiar with. 'Hanging' the slang use, to mean the verb of hungover.  Therefore, in my little, messed-up, slightly mad head, my life is like a pendulum. It rocks backwards and forwards. Sometimes the movements are easy and the action takes no effort at all, and other times, it's hard, difficult. The forces are imbalanced, everything seems a struggle. It's just like Monday mornings in physical action form, ey?

Anyway, that's my thing. That's my theory. I'm a pendulum. We all keep swinging. Swaying. Continuing. Life is just like the movement of a pendulum. The glitches are very evident sometimes, and other times you barely notice the faltering. If you hit something, it hits back. The domino effect. But always, the pendulum continues, despite what happens. Despite what obstacles it encounters. We carry on in life, no matter what troubles and problems we encounter. The bad days are balanced by the good days, the tears are comforted by the smiles and the laughter. And always, we carry on moving. Until, we don't.

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