I've just bought a shed load of energy drinks and stocked up on really high in caffeine coffee. I'm not a caffeine junkie, I hate the taste of Red Bull and the only time I drink coffee is when I'm trying to be grown up. So why have I just wasted money on drinks to help keep me awake?
Passion.
I have so much to do regarding writing and so little time to do it all in that I decided one all nighter would sort everything out. I'm a big believer in the phrase "we'll sleep when we're dead" so that's exactly what I'm doing. Starting from now (I've just taken my first sip of Red Bull to mark this occasion), I'll be awake for the next 24 hours (and more, if I don't finish my to-do list).
This is the most pointless blog post I've ever written, but on the flip side of this, when the energy drinks and coffee have worn off, I plan to write one huge blog post on passion. What are you most passionate about? Would you do something as stupid as I'm doing for something you love? If so, have you ever done something like this? Am I stupid or just really dedicated about what I'm aiming to get done in the next 24 hours?
That sip of Red Bull has already kicked in, I can feel the caffeine killing my body as I type so that's my call to get working. I hope everybody has a brilliant night's sleep cause I sure as hell won't be...
Maybe its for the best, we wanted such different things you know. If someones really the one, they should be willing to go on any adventure with you, right?
"I need films where the girl DOESN'T get the guy, I need an un-happy ending. Hit me with some classics, guys." was the tweet I sent earlier today. Much like a lonely hearts ad, it summed me up completely; I needed something to remind me that I'm human - because if it's happened in a film, it's happened in reality. I received the suspected replies: '500 Days of Summer', 'My Best Friend's Wedding', 'Casablanca'...the list goes on. Every single reply was an option because I just needed something that would transport me from reality to fantasy in seconds, yet still allow me to experience what exactly was happening in my life at the very moment. I didn't want to watch a love story; I wasn't in the mood to watch Sandra Bullock kiss Keanu Reeves having escaped a burning bus in 'Speed', I couldn't put myself through watching Carrie search for apartments with Mr Big in 'Sex and the City' and I most definitely couldn't spend 2 hours watching Emma and Dex fall in love in my ultimate favourite movie, 'One Day'. Nope, I needed harsh reality and I needed to know that just like her character in 'My Best Friend's Wedding', Julia Roberts had somehow felt exactly what I was feeling. Regardless of whether she's acting for a film, I needed to know she had spent days with panda eyes, curled up in bed, regretting past actions and/or words...which brings me to 'Closer'.
When one of my best friend's replied to that tweet, I knew she'd hit me back with an amazing film which would sum up exactly how I was feeling. And I was right, because she suggested the film that has just left me speechless and not just because the naughty C word (I can't type it, but it rhymes with hunt) is mentioned twice. I've heard amazing reviews on this beauty of a film, I'm a big fan of the soundtrack and I definitely do fancy Clive Owen and Jude Law so I should have known it would have been perfect from the start.
"If you believe in love at first sight, you never stop looking." is the tagline. In other words, if love is only an accident, if intimacy is merely a lie we tell ourselves, desire never reaching below the surface, if truth is only self-beneficial honesty is simply self-serving, how on Earth are we supposed to allow ourselves to be loved, to be known and to know and love another human being? 'Closer' focuses on portraying 'modern relationships' - whatever they maybe. It shows the rocky turbulence a relationship inevitably experiences and the harsh reality of personal flaws. It states, in the simplest form, what I've always known: people use love as an excuse to act like a naughty C word. They headfuck others for their own pleasure and then blame their actions on kindness, honesty and love. It's a cruel realisation and one that I would have only been willing to accept coming from Julia Roberts and Clive Owen.
The definition of love is a personal definition, I believe. Nobody has any right to tell you what 'love' actually is because we all experience an individual meaning of the word. For me, love is somebody supporting my ambitions and dreams, somebody who will hold my hair back when I'm being sick and play me Beatles songs on a guitar when I'm sad. 'Closer' tells us that love is not an accident, a stranger, a game, a mis-truth but in fact, it is a feeling that never ends. It's more than a reaction to meeting a perfect stranger for the first time, it's more than kind gestures, honesty and words. Love is what leaves us wanting more.
I asked for a film that wasn't about the normal 'girl meets boy, boy loves girl, girl and boy get married' storyline. I wanted a gritty, harsh, realistic film that would tell me "you know what? Not everything is alright. Love, or what we perceive to be love, will hurt you and it will leave scars that won't ever fade, but it doesn't matter because for a while, you were happy and you were experiencing something."
When things get a bit crappy, I tend to run away to London for a little while, or at least until my head feels a fraction clearer. I spend days catching up with friends, having fun, watching weird films (I seriously wouldn't watch 'The Loved Ones' alone), running around different parts of London and usually, drinking an awful lot of alcohol because that's just what I do. However, this time around, I decided to shake things up a little. Not only should I probably learn to face my problems head on rather than run away from them but it's also a lot cheaper to stay in my little town.
So I did what any normal-ish person does when they need to clear their head and I went and got absolutely obliterated. I grabbed one of my best pals, Tania, took my entire make-up collection to her house and insisted that she work her magic and make this possible:
We started pre-drinking (3 bottles of wine, 2 bottles of Magners, 8 vodka shots and a can of Koppaberg soon got us in the party mood), glued on false eyelashes and listened to Nicki Minaj on full blast while being as girly as possible. We drunk white wine out of cosmopolitan glasses, Tania went braless and I felt like my head was already clearing - although, that could have been alcohol...
I'm a big fan of PROPER nights out: pre-drinks, hitting pubs, bars AND clubs, going to an unethical fried chicken/kebab takeaway joint at 4am and eventually befriending the taxi driver who's (un)lucky enough to be taking us home. However, with £7 each a big night out was going to be impossible for Tania and myself. Did that stop us? No way. "Fuck it, we'll walk home, who needs a taxi?"
We hit town, already quite drunk, made a necessary toilet/re-doing make-up stop and then decided to hit as many bars as we could. And that's exactly what we did. We smashed every single place we entered, we spoke to strangers, we drank Snakebites, smoked cigarettes and had a laugh. We bumped into lovely people, completely forgot our social boundaries and were soon discussing oral sex with a complete stranger. Despite having a lot to say on the matter, I don't usually discuss that sort of thing with strangers which made it even better. We were talking absolute bollox, drunk of our faces and had one goal in mind: to have fun.
At the beginning of the night, we made a pact that we'd forget the rules for that night. We'd blow off steam, act inappropriately, quit being sensible, send messages/texts and make calls that we'd regret in the morning and best of all, we wouldn't care. It was exactly what we both needed, a night of being literally so carefree nothing mattered except what we drinking and we weren't fussy. It's safe to say that most of the night is one huge blur for me, but I do remember stealing a Swedish chap's fried chicken and running away. HIGHLIGHT.
Anyway, besides ranting about getting absolutely off my trolley last night (I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOUR!...I do), this blog was supposed to have a point. I've rambled because my hangover is in control of my brain today and I can't stop it. Booooooo.
While I'm slightly regretting the amount of alcohol I consumed last night because my head feels like it's been sat on by a Sumo wrestler, I'm not regretting the night in general. It was perfect and just what I needed.
I kissed people I shouldn't have kissed, I drank drinks I shouldn't have drank and I stumbled home at about 3am, leaving drunken voicemails to my best friends. I feel a lot better, despite the hangover, and I've proved to myself that I don't need to run away to a different county to fix my head up. I just need a good night out.
I've never been the type of girl to spend hours crying over a boy because he didn't text me back, I've never doodled names over my notebook (except John Lennon's) and the idea of committing myself to one person for the rest of my life has always petrified me...actually, the idea of committing myself to one person for more than one night is enough to bring me out in a rash.
If I think back, there's never been a time in my life where it's been so obvious that I'm heartbroken, but truth be told I've done really uncool things to get to spend even 20 minutes with the person I fancied at the age of 15, because I was that desperate to spend time with him, I've befriended alcohol in an attempt to forget about a break-up and I've even spent an entire night, downloading, and listening to The Smiths Ultimate Collection - which is serious dedication to heartbreak.
Heartbreak is horrible; it causes us to devour bars of chocolate without stopping for breath, flirt with the ugly guy at the bar just for an ego boost and drink a litre of vodka only to then throw it up over an unsuspecting taxi driver. However, for me, what's even worse than heartbreak is the notion of unrequited love. Loving somebody who has no idea that you even exist or even worse, loving somebody who knows you exist but has no idea of how you feel.
Before actually thinking about it, I wouldn't have said I've ever experienced unrequited love. But, we all have really. It might not have been a first hand experience but we've all seen the damage this type of love can cause. For example, in 'Love Actually', the character of Mark is in love with Juliet (played by Keira Knightley) who is married to Mark's best friend, Peter. We see Mark turn up on Juliet's doorstep, confess his undying love for her and then walk away. He gets the pain, the longing and most of all the wasted time, which unrequited love is all about. The same can be said for 'My Best Friend's Wedding' where we see Julia Robert's character chase after Dermot Mulroney character who is actually chasing after Cameron Diaz's character.
All very complicated but after all, films help us prepare for the real world, so on a personal note to Julia Roberts, because she obviously reads my blogs all the time: thanks for setting me up for what has turned out to be the most distressing situation my heart has ever experienced; you're a doll.
I believe that admitting you're suffering from a bad case of unrequited love is the first step to getting over it. It's not pleasant but it is necessary if you want any chance at all of moving on. So here I am, admitting that I'm completely infatuated with somebody, and while their actions may say otherwise, they insist they don't feel the same. What an ego boost that was...
Although I'm obviously a bit annoyed with the outcome of the situation, I'm left wondering what do I do now?
I can go to London, party really hard, spend an awful lot of time crying (partly because of a hangover and partly because NOBODY LOVES ME) and eventually drink myself into such an emotional stupor that some poor guy takes pity on me and offers to take me back to his to show me a good time. What he doesn't know is that the 'good time' he's got planned will probably consist of me crying into the toilet bowl, after throwing up everything I've ever eaten, and moaning about the lack of affection I'm receiving from the person I want it from the most. Way to kill a mood.
OR
I can address the situation head on, be mature and ask the person what exactly they want from me now; are we expected to be friends when I quite clearly want something else or do we just pretend that the past however many years we've spent as 'friends' (we have a very complicated history, which doesn't help) mean nothing and move on, say goodbye and end it at that?
Although the latter is definitely the one I'd like to be able to choose, I'm afraid the idea of flirting (crying) with a complete stranger and drinking obscene amounts of tequila is actually more appealing right now.
Now, I've seen Sex and the City and I'm pretty open about the fact that I wish I was more like Samantha: carefree, fun loving and always in control. I'd love for my mini breakdown to involve me turning into this ballsy, feisty character who insists that men buy the drinks AND the hotel room for after the Cosmopolitans. After dedicating a night to research just how she would deal with my situation, it's safe to say I'm pretty certain she'd take the "if you want to get over someone, you must get under somebody else" motto. Instead of crying into a bottle of wine, listening to The Smiths and Adele, complaining about how shit it really is that the feelings you feel for somebody else aren't mutual, go out there and find somebody who cares enough to ask your name and what your favourite sexual position is. Have fun. Have free and meaningless (safe) sex until you forget the name, age, address and favourite band of the person you were so wrapped up with. And finally, don't regret a single moment.
I like this idea. Or, at least I like the idea of this idea...
When I tweeted about whether that approach was the best approach to getting over somebody, so many people - women especially - replied saying "NO!! Do not start another issue until you resolve the last one!"
I guess they don't feel the same way about Samantha Jones as I do. I asked good friends, ex boyfriends/people I've had 'things' with, parents of friends and even complete strangers what their approach would be and nearly everybody said the same thing: you need 'me' time.
My pal Hannah gave me AMAZING advice. A whole 4 paragraphs on why I shouldn't take the above approach and why I should be grateful that the feelings I felt weren't mutual, because my heart has just been saved from a lot of future pain. Even though I may not realise it now, if this person had lied to me and said they felt the same, in a couple of months when they realised I wasn't what they wanted, I'd be even more hurt than I am now.
Carrie replied saying that 'me time' was vital, else you'll never learn from the previous and therefore you wouldn't grow for the future. Besides treating everything this chick says as gospel, I can't help but think she's speaking sense.
While I'd LOVE to be able to say that I'm fine, that I'm not hurting at all and I feel just super, I think the whole notion of "getting under somebody else" would make it impossible for me to move on. I wouldn't learn from my mistakes because I'd just be making fresher ones. Although Mark from 'Love Actually' and Julia Robert's character in 'My Best Friend's Wedding' both probably felt like they needed to go and get absolutely trollied after being rejected, they didn't. Well I don't think they did, but for the sake of this blog post, let's just pretend they didn't. Do you want to know the reason why they didn't? Of course you do, because I'm completely winging this, hoping that Richard Curtis will phone me the minute this has been published and aske me to pen a 'Love Actually 2'. The reason why it's not sensible to jump into the bed of any willing person the day after you've just been told it's never going to happen with the person you considered to be the love of your life is that although the orgasm might be brilliant, in the morning your mental state will be the complete opposite to that.
You need to give yourself time, closure and distance from the person your heart's in such a mess over. There isn't a limit on how much of these things you need because you'll know in your heart when the time is right. Be thankful that things never worked out because that person clearly wasn't meant for you. You'll find the one who deserves your heart eventually.
As for me, I'm going to post this on Facebook/Twitter and hope that it helps at least one person save their heart from that little bit of pain. While I don't know exactly how I'm supposed to deal with my situation, I do know that I'm ready to listen to The Smiths some more and get intimate with a glass (or 5) of wine. In the meantime, one can always find comfort in knowing that Adele has felt exactly the same:
There comes a time in your life where realisation will, no doubt, come along, slap you in the face, down your drink and then flirt with the person you're with. It's eye opening, shocking yet quite liberating at the same time. Sometimes, in order to see what's directly in front of you, you need to take a step back and stare it straight in the eyes, grab it by the balls and fuck whatever you're meant to be realising right up.
Fuck it up as best you can.
Quit paying rent for 2 houses, stop splitting your time between different towns, sort your life out in one place before you move on to the next and don't think problems disappear over night. They don't. Address situations as they happen, don't let them strengthen because nobody, except Superwoman, is Superwoman.
While it seems quite daunting to 'free' yourself from everything chaining you down, it's thrilling to discover you actually have wings. And yes, you can use them.
"Let's just jump on a train, me and you, get out of here...let's go anywhere, it doesn't matter where we are, as long as we're together. Who cares about money and clothes, it's all about new memories, new places and new people. All we need is each other. Say the words and we'll go."
I'm a free spirit, I can't be in one place for too long and I certainly can't be tied to one person for more than one night. Some people could argue and say that I'm a commitment-phobe but I don't agree. I want to experience as much of this beautiful thing we call life as I possibly can. If that means travelling around the world until I've tasted every single ice-cream flavour or hitch-hiking through Europe to find out whether it's French men or Italian men that give the best oral sex, if that's all considered life experience then I'll throw myself at it as hard as I can.
The idea of being tied to one person scares me, it actually petrifies me. That monster in my stomach that usually only comes out when I haven't eaten rears it's ugly head at the idea of commitment and I just know it's not for me right now. That's not to say in 2, 5, 10 years time, I'll feel exactly the same, 'cause I bloody hope not, but at this current moment in time, I'm more than happy with being a free bird. I've just discovered I have wings, why would I want to stop myself from spreading them and learning to fly?
I interviewed this chap (plus another lovely fella who is also part of the band, named Matt) last week. He's in a band called BeingBuffalo who are now one of my favourite bands. Just thought I'd share some of the genius music BeingBuffalo make and if you get a chance - CHECK THEM OUT.
(I'll post up the interview as soon as I have it written, promise) xxx
