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All my hopes and fears for all the years
Jan. 20th, 2005 12:41 pmOn my eighteenth birthday, this is the Guardian headline:
"World fears new Bush era"
But I do not care, I don't care. It's my birthday, which is far more important than any inauguration, and I don't want to cry. I can't say the same for Mr Evans.
Anyway. To begin with, I'm not one of those people who isn't [insert age] when they wake up on their birthdays. I was actually born a couple of minutes after midnight, and generally stay up until then; I didn't last night because I was dropping dead from tiredness. Well, that was the plan. I couldn't sleep, so went downstairs at midnight, had sudden and really, really stupid fight with mother (I'm not even sure what it was about) and went back to bed in a huff. Woke up several times because I was having scary, Kafkaesque nightmares, and finally rolled out of bed in the morning feeling, strangely, not tired at all. Pedar wished me a sleepy happy birthday as I left; my mother and I were still fighting, apparently.
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balthaser met me at Crosby station, bearing - wait for it! - eighteen gingerbread ravens. The feet keep falling off, and I keep eating them. They are wonderful. Not so wonderful was us both getting soaked on the way into school. I had to dry my hair under a hand-dryer when I got in. I can only gasp in horror at what cat4ian must be going through at Martin Mere. That trip would have been my thirteenth birthday. I think I must have repressed it.
When I got in, Sarah said, politely, "Can you go over there for a minute?"
I hung up my (sopping wet) coat, sat down, and was given packages. Blackcurrant liquorice from Sarah, and she says she has another present for me that is to be ordered off the internet. She told Enid what it was, and she seemed impressed while I remained intrigued. Emma gave me a pretty notebook and address book, which I should use! I can never find an address when I want it.
And then there was registration and all that jazz, and I found out Mrs O'Connor is ill. Meaning, of course, that instead of one lesson I had no lessons and needn't have got out of bed. But I didn't mind. I was, and am, loved. Even when Enid left me and I set up camp in the library, working through Chemistry past papers, I didn't mind. Mrs Barry teased me mercilessly about my lack of revision, but I did work, and texted Hannah only some of the time.
Miranda (quackaquacka) arrived at half ten bearing cake. Banana cake. It is nummy. And Sam (eternalwings) had chocolate for me (to avoid the inevitable putting-on of weight, I have donated to the library committee) and Natural Collection goodies. I don't know if she knew, but I love that stuff. It's not too sweet like most of it; it's lovely.
Miranda said, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
I am now the proud owner of a box of marbles. In case I lose mine. Heh. She says there is something else, also ordered off the internet, that I will acquire soon. I feel loved, and that cake is the most wonderful thing ever. So is the gingbread, as previously stated.
So I have a wide array of wacky gifts, andminttown1 and thunderemerald have provided me with songs by the Indigo Girls - All That We Let In, Closer to Fine, Cold Beer and Remote Control, Deconstruction, Fugitive, Shame On You, Watershed, Touch Me Fall (lovelove), and Galileo (lovelovelovelovelove).
I went home at eleven. The house is perfectly, painfully quiet; I see no reason not to play music as loud as I want. And work. And rejoice in the fact I have just learnt I share a birthday with Buffy Summers.
But, music. How long 'til my soul gets it right?
"World fears new Bush era"
But I do not care, I don't care. It's my birthday, which is far more important than any inauguration, and I don't want to cry. I can't say the same for Mr Evans.
Anyway. To begin with, I'm not one of those people who isn't [insert age] when they wake up on their birthdays. I was actually born a couple of minutes after midnight, and generally stay up until then; I didn't last night because I was dropping dead from tiredness. Well, that was the plan. I couldn't sleep, so went downstairs at midnight, had sudden and really, really stupid fight with mother (I'm not even sure what it was about) and went back to bed in a huff. Woke up several times because I was having scary, Kafkaesque nightmares, and finally rolled out of bed in the morning feeling, strangely, not tired at all. Pedar wished me a sleepy happy birthday as I left; my mother and I were still fighting, apparently.
balthaser met me at Crosby station, bearing - wait for it! - eighteen gingerbread ravens. The feet keep falling off, and I keep eating them. They are wonderful. Not so wonderful was us both getting soaked on the way into school. I had to dry my hair under a hand-dryer when I got in. I can only gasp in horror at what cat4ian must be going through at Martin Mere. That trip would have been my thirteenth birthday. I think I must have repressed it. When I got in, Sarah said, politely, "Can you go over there for a minute?"
I hung up my (sopping wet) coat, sat down, and was given packages. Blackcurrant liquorice from Sarah, and she says she has another present for me that is to be ordered off the internet. She told Enid what it was, and she seemed impressed while I remained intrigued. Emma gave me a pretty notebook and address book, which I should use! I can never find an address when I want it.
And then there was registration and all that jazz, and I found out Mrs O'Connor is ill. Meaning, of course, that instead of one lesson I had no lessons and needn't have got out of bed. But I didn't mind. I was, and am, loved. Even when Enid left me and I set up camp in the library, working through Chemistry past papers, I didn't mind. Mrs Barry teased me mercilessly about my lack of revision, but I did work, and texted Hannah only some of the time.
Miranda (
quackaquacka) arrived at half ten bearing cake. Banana cake. It is nummy. And Sam (eternalwings) had chocolate for me (to avoid the inevitable putting-on of weight, I have donated to the library committee) and Natural Collection goodies. I don't know if she knew, but I love that stuff. It's not too sweet like most of it; it's lovely.Miranda said, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
I am now the proud owner of a box of marbles. In case I lose mine. Heh. She says there is something else, also ordered off the internet, that I will acquire soon. I feel loved, and that cake is the most wonderful thing ever. So is the gingbread, as previously stated.
So I have a wide array of wacky gifts, and
minttown1 and thunderemerald have provided me with songs by the Indigo Girls - All That We Let In, Closer to Fine, Cold Beer and Remote Control, Deconstruction, Fugitive, Shame On You, Watershed, Touch Me Fall (lovelove), and Galileo (lovelovelovelovelove). I went home at eleven. The house is perfectly, painfully quiet; I see no reason not to play music as loud as I want. And work. And rejoice in the fact I have just learnt I share a birthday with Buffy Summers.
But, music. How long 'til my soul gets it right?
