The Kids Don't Stand A Chance.

I am supposed to be packing a suitcase right now. But I hate packing more than anything else, so I'm writing this instead and listening to Vampire Weekend's self-titled.

I always overlook this album. But it was a staple for a year, in 2008 (one of my favourite of all years; this one is a close contender right now). It also made me want to live in Cape Cod for a really long time.

I have a friend who was completely my partner in crime throughout primary school. Like, I get all reminiscent when I walk through neighbourhoods where she used to live almost as much as when I walk around the suburbs I grew up in, because I spent so much of my childhood there. We always stayed close, and we may as well be sisters, such is our camaraderie. I'm trying to think of a better way to describe it, but our relationship is very similar to mine and my sister's, so I'm sticking with that. She's someone I feel totally at ease around, and I only have that with a handful of people. She is also probably the first person I'll call up if I'm feeling upset or anxious about something, and vice versa. In short, she is awesome and I love her.

She is called Lydia.

Me and Lydia, in spite of our closeness, are polar opposites in most ways. Vampire Weekend was an album with which we shared a common musical ground. The first non-Beatles album we had a mutual love for. So in Spring 2008 when I pretty much moved in with her, this album was all we listened to. She brought it in to art classes, and our diamond of an art teacher fell in love with the album and it became the soundtrack for every art lesson.

I love this album because it evokes only good memories of that Spring. It reminds me of paint, and snow melting and drawing still life portraits of the animal skulls and trumpets and violins our art teacher collected.

I played it a lot during Summer '08, too. So it also reminds me of windy beaches with piers and lighthouses, and meeting my mother's extended family really for the first time, at a formal family reunion, and being excited about how well-dressed, and well-spoken and reserved and quintessentially English they all were. My whole life, I've been in the pockets of my father's extended family, who are very outspoken and outgoing and traditionally Indian, and as much as I love them, I'm not very good at being one of them. So the novelty of meeting Mum's estranged family was greatly appreciated. Listening to M79, or Walcott kind of captures exactly what that reunion was like, and conjures up images of not-quite strangers standing around in nice clothes on Spanish Brownstone drinking Darjeeling, and catching-up.

In the morning, Lydia is picking me up at nine and we're going somewhere for a week, but I don't know where yet. I'm excited. I might make us listen to this album the entire way up (or down).

I love Peanuts.

Linus is my favourite.

I have a cold, and I want to go outside.

My mother has given me the first camera she ever owned. It came with a hefty trunk of accessories, and it is a complete treasure trove of very pretty things that I don't know how to use yet. It is huge and clumsy and I am in love with it.

re: family members giving me weird presents this July, my brother came back from Hop Farm the other week, and our house was empty apart from me. He looked all mussed and dishevelled and he was grinning a lot, "I got you a present!" So he starts rooting through his bag and drags out this crumpled coffee-coloured towel, and I'm all, "Thanks?" And he's all, "No! No! It's Bob Dylan's! Cool, huh?" ( I realised that this doesn't sound at all like he talks, because he is the chillest bro, owing to smoking copious amounts of pot since he was my age, and always talks in this mumbly stoner drawl; but he did muster up a lot of enthusiasm for him). It didn't smell like Bob Dylan. Or like how I imagine Bob Dylan to smell, anyway. Which was disappointing. He then regailed me with the story of how he got it and how earnest and buzzing he was about the whole thing made me appreciate it a lot more. Even though I doubt Dylan ever used it (though, I like to imagine he's kept it since the 60s, where he and the Band would dry their hands on it, in Woodstock, when they were laying down the Basement Tapes. That would be sweet.)

I think the camera pips the towel though, in terms of weird presents from family members this Summer. Because I know how much my mother adored that camera, and it's a really sweet sentiment that she's given it to me.

Climb up to the top and drink and talk.

I feel good about myself this Summer for a bunch of reasons.
I'm comfortable in my own skin right now. So being social with strangers isn't some balancing act I have to get through. And I don't feel like I'd be a better person if I looked or acted differently. I'm just looking at myself in the right way.
I think grappling with body issues is pretty universal. And I used to think, and I knew how silly it was, that I'd feel a lot better about myself if I were fatter. I wanted chubbiness. I craved overhang. I wanted to be doughy and squishy and cuddlesome.
This wasn't because I thought I looked that bad. I didn't look malnourished. And I do believe that any body-type can be attractive (y'know, unless you're morbidly under/over-weight). I was just tired of being confronted by the idea that "Real Women have Curves" or that skinny girls are probably suffering from some eating disorder and hate themselves. Because I come across these opinions so frequently, and it's as narrow-minded as thinking that someone who is overweight is hilarious, or gross, or comfort eats because they hate themselves. It's brainless.
I've stopped resenting the fact that I have a slight, boyish figure now. I kind of love the fact. After discussing it with a friend with the same hang-up, we realised there's a few perks we can embrace; like, we could still climb trees if we wanted to, and we can get away with wearing less when it's hot, without looking like we're dressing provocatively and stuff like that.

Oh, and my style icon for this Summer is Anna Karina. She manages to pull off something most people see as bland- unstraightened brown shoulder-length blah hair- and make it sexy. I think I wrote in my last post about how growing out my hair was giving me the blues. Or at least that I was getting frustrated and bored with it. But seeing how she used to rock that look is making me a lot less inclined to reach for a pair of scissors, straighteners or bottle of hair dye. I couldn't want to do anything less.

This year I was pretty grossly lazy, regarding academia. I had a bunch of excuses:
I wasn't exactly unmotivated. If I'm not doing something remotely productive, I'm unhappy. So I always set myself projects. Thing is, these projects were very rarely, if ever, relevant to school. I justified this with a kind of Twain-esque mindset ("I tried to never let my schooling get in the way of my education,") in that I didn't think anything I was learning at school was related to anything I really cared about. I don't think I can use that excuse anymore.
Also, for some reason I was struggling with the most everyday things. Like, does anyone have any idea how difficult it is to try and fix your eating and sleeping patterns if you've completely messed them up? I was all over the place. And I was getting into a lot of trouble when I really wasn't trying to be defiant. Which I think is quite funny. But I also caused a lot of concern when I didn't deserve it. Which I don't think is all that funny.
Not to mention my being a little paralysed by all my options for next year. So instead of going to a lot of open days, and exploring my options and applying to a lot of places etc., I opted to just do nothing. I've sorted that out now, though. Thank God for how understanding people can be sometimes.

In short, I fucked up at school a lot last year. Without really meaning to, and the whole thing is kind of embarassing. I'm determined to ace my A levels, though. Partly because my family have tried to invalidate every subject I've opted to do (especially French, which is the thing I am most desperate to improve in) and I guess I'm trying to Stick It to the Man, but also because I do love everything I'm learning about next year. I might write a post about my Summertime academic reading/watching list, because I'm enjoying those books/films.

I'm glad I caught up with a bunch of people I really value and have missed. Reunions I are something I tend to avoid, because I dread being stuck in an awkward, stunted conversation, where small talk is underwhelming (if you have been absent for two years of person's life, it seems irrelevant to ask them how their week has been) and it's hard to just jump in and fill someone in on all of the Big Things that have happened to you, and to try and set them in context. Or try to justify the dumb, hedonistic things you did that took up a lot of your headspace and dictated how you acted (hi, excessive amphetamine usage during Spring!) I wish I didn't have that mindset, though, because in most cases, it's so easy to pick up where you left off. And nice and familiar. Also, I always use my lack of interest in social networking (I don't have Facebook 'cos I am a rebel) to excuse myself for not keeping in touch with people. And okay, it does make me less accessible (and, obviously, other people less accessible to me) but there are so many other ways to maintain friendships with people. I just need to remember to make the effort, because it is so worth the effort.

On a related note, I have the most awesome people in my life right now, and I'm grateful for every one of them. They won't let me be boring.

On another related note, I've lost someone who used to be a Big Part of my life, and it hasn't affected me as badly as I thought it would. The whole thing seems a little ridiculous and surreal. I think I initiated it by not reciprocating how close said person thought we were and telling them so, and I didn't anticicipate how violently they would react. I just didn't want to pretend.
I feel guilt for upsetting them that much, but beyond that, I'm apathetic towards it. I don't feel a sense of loss and this should be a Big Deal. That apathy actually bothers me more than the issue itself. Last year, this would have been crushing. That's so distant now.

So, yeah. For (most of) the above reasons, I've felt very happy this Summer.

I need to remember to start keeping a sketchbook again, though. That could only improve everything tenfold.

ANDandand, I've also missed my bedroom and am so happy to be in it right now.

That's everything.