Holidays

My mum arrived back early yesterday morning - at around 12 ish am. We all woke up. It was hard to stay asleep with all the noises and shuffling around.

On a phone call to us from Nigeria, mum had let loose that she would get us phones and I was like, who want's a N-phone - what I imagine that Nigerian version to be. At 12 in the morning, my mum was handing us out new phones and they were nothing that I had expected. The Nigerian phones - made in China - were tablets you could call people with.She gave us a lot of Nigerian sweets and I thought, I would save some for Bob, only that they are made with milk. :(

Hahahahaha. I felt a bit, not sad, but not happy either, all day. I guess, sort of hollow and empty, because usually I am feeling something, so feeling so placid and mundane compared to the rainbow of emotions I normally feel, is empty. If I am honest, I did not miss my mum much. Her absence, felt like a holiday to me. No shouting or anger. There was food - I actually bought food, unlike her. Then she came back and I thought, she is just going to complain - the kitchen is too messy; you bought your dad a kettle and didn't get me a mother's day present; you haven't been doing the most you can to look after things when I was gone. I got it wrong. I felt as if she was always constantly looking to attack and tell me what I am doing is wrong and that I am not good enough. I regret how distant our relationship is. Regretted. Because, I am not going to let the regret live on; I have still got time to do something about it.

It is Easter Holidays.

Yay. It is like climbing a mountain. You are at the foot of the mountain, looking up. Saying that you are worrying is an understatement. This isn't nerves or doubt; you know you can;t do it; you're not competent. All the self depreciating thoughts are swimming around your mind like sharks. They threaten to bite you.

I remember, the headmaster said in the assembly on the first day of term, that there would be casualties.  I looked around the hall and saw familiar faces and ones that I did not know and thought, who will the casualties be? I hoped that my friends would not be casualties. I hoped that I would not be one - I knew that I wouldn't, actually, I was and will be motivated and resilient, I thought. I had embarked on climbing the mountain; only a few centimetres up, but I had done something I thought I was not capable of, now, there was no way anyone would tell me (especially myself) that I could not continue; that I cannot make it up there.

Progress was made.  I guess. Progress was made. I made progress. Some of my friends did not - a lot fell as casualties.

What does a person do then? When they realise, when the illusions are broken? That they were always alone on this journey? That it was always there's to make one their own? I was up there and people I cared about had fallen.

All I could do was look back up and continue climbing.

Now, I am near to the top. You may think that now, there is only one thing I could do - continue going up. However, I could refuse to go any further, and fall down. I am not prepared for the top - I could think - and I  could regress faster than I made progress. Or I can continue steadily making my way to the top.

This is Easter for those who have to revise.

It is where you decide if you can or can't do it.

It is not a time for socialising.

It is a time for trying.

Friendship

Friends are important. Mrs Punjwani - my old Sociology teacher - once reminded me that friends are the family you choose, one time when I was talking to her. Like a lot of the things that she told me during year 11, she is right. 

I have realised - and what a relief this is - I am not as friends with as many people as I thought I was. Hahaha, I am probably one of those extroverted introverts like Bob.

After Bob left from the same college as me, I felt lost. Like, crap, I can't be alone - I am a part of something; Trevor and Bob. I cannot possibly Trevor alone. Bob and Trevor do not care about anyone else and what people think and stupid stuff - they are too awesome to. However, Trevor, all alone is not as strong and confident as she would like to think alone. 

I realised two things when she left. That I never had to be alone during high school, because Bob was there. And that I could not carry on being Trevor, all alone. 

Since Bob left, I have re established myself as Linda - that is what people call me now because Olugbemi causes too much confusion. 

I felt that after Bob left that I would not be able to fit in. It was like October and everyone have already settled and decided who there friends was. Bob and I have decided who our friends were, but with her gone, they could not be our friends any more. 

I have made friends though and friendship is an extraordinary thing. 

Today, I found myself smiling like and idiot, because I saw Mahamood. He us one of my new friends. It feels weird, but I have found myself smiling when he is around. Not because I like him or any thing - I like him as a friend - nothing more; it is just that when you think about it, there are so little people you can actually call a friend for certain. There are the people you have the sort of love hate relationships with, who you are forever doubting, yet always hanging out with and having a good time with. There are the people you are friends with because it is convenient or because you do not want to hurt them, However, if you think about it, there are little people who you are actually friends with; who you want to be around and who matter to you. 

Friendship feels great. I sit next to Evelin in all the lessons we share together, and it is that feeling when she is talking to someone else and she feels the need to include me into the conversation. It is that feeling when I am messing around with her stuff - again - and she just smiles at me as I slyly try to return her stuff. It is that feeling when I am on the swing next to Agata and we are talking about random stuff.

Windy spring day

Today I went Horsenden Hill with my friend. It was really fun.

It was a windy day. I was in Specsavers at around 9:00 doing some maths revision - I felt compelled to take maths with me. BBC news was on. It was sort of sentimental.  BBC news and I used to have a really strong relationship. I would wake up, switch the TV straight to BBC news and it would fill me in. Those were the days Susanna Reid presented it and when the downstairs TV still worked.

When the TV broke, BBC and me no longer interacted. But seeing it today, after this long while, just rekindled those old feelings. Hahaha. Anyway, BBC news said it would be a chilly morning and that the rest of the day would be dry and that it would reach 11 degrees. I am guessing that that is an exaggeration, bordering on lie. Well, it was chilly, but you cannot exactly call the today dry. The air was so close to the point of tears. You could feel the tears brewing but they were not ready to come.

So yeah, it was cold.

I had an interesting conversation with my friend. She asked me how being a pushover works. It is about feeling guilty over things that you other people may not even consider and blaming yourself and perhaps, accepting too much responsibility. I asked her how procrastination works - it is about pushing aside tasks because up until the last minute, there is still 'plenty of time.'

It only took 30 minutes to climb up and down the hill. There were lots of stairs. I love that it is literally a hill, concaved with bushes and trees with muddy tracks. Then, the next thing is, there are literally stairs carved in. That's so cool. :)

One thing I love about being around Bob is that if there is silence, it rests gently, not awkwardly. It is not like, what am I going to say next? Or wow, I have exhausted my use of words.


I love spring. Despite it being cold. I like daffodils. They are what make spring great. I remember, last year before school. Bob and I met up early before school and went near the motor way to cut daffodils. It was my friend's birthday and the gesture seemed appropiate because daffodils are a symbolism of hope, and her name Nadia, means hope too.

I measure spring based on daffodils. It starts when the daffodils in the grass in near the motorway begins to grow and ends when they have died. :) But, yeah. It is hope of warmth after the dreary winter, and even like in cold days, like today, spring is so awesome :)

Happy

I lost my purse today. I was upset. I was thinking, how could I let this happen? What the f*** is my problem?

Literally, if you saw me, you would think that I am a crazy person. I was going in and out of 92 buses looking at the seats if my purse was there. I was literally calling out 'dad' as I walked around Wembley.

So I thought, hmmm, I'll make a post about things that have made me happy today.

• Agata was with me. She never shouted at me, but helped me look for my purse. 
• We had a chemistry lesson outside. The weather was so warm - more that it has been so in days - and so I asked Mrs Sen if we could have a lesson outside, and she said yes, so we were all sitting outside together.
• Zeinab bought me lunch - I asked to borrow money and she never even hesitated like she usually foes with money.
• I hanged out with Zeinab, Amal and Nora and being around them made me happy. 
• Mahamood waited with me for my bus :) 

You would think that in a college, situations where someone tells someone else not to be someone else's friend, do not occur. You would think that people are mature and they do not spread rumours and that people do not get a long.

However, that does happen. 

I think it is just something that life throws at us. That will always happen. 

There is this guy. He is a friend of mine. It is alright to call him a friend, I think - I think he considers me as a friend as well, because he sits next to me on buses and doesn't see it as awkward and he now includes me in conversations - it is no longer a, you are just there, sort of thing. So yeah, we are friends. Not good friends, like close, but friends.

There is a girl. Friend too. Friendish.  I do not know how much is friendship and how much is obligation.

She hates the guy I am sort of friends with. 

Fair enough. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. I mean there will always be people that you hate.

However, I was talking to him today. I was at the bus stop. She saw us and stormed of, and her friend - or twin - tapped me. I went over and she was like, 'You need to get your priorities right!' No, in fact, she was not like; she shouted at me, like at the bus stop.

In other words, do not talk to him, because you are my friend. 

How silly is that. How pathetic am I, that I did not reply. If I told her what my priorities were, she would have been more angry that she was. 

My priorities :

+ Exams 

+  Looking after myself 

+ Family

+ Agata 

Not some person who is going to tell me who I can and cannot be friends with.

I should have said that. 

But I am a coward. 

Too scared to rock the boat. 

I felt like crap. I left Mahamood to because she wanted to avoid the other guy. I really shouldn't have. 

He was hurt by that. 

Messaged me to ask why I left him. He was not going to wait at the bus station so long but he did because of me. 

That is what hurts. I try to care about people's feelings. 

If your my friend, your feelings matter to me and I try not to hurt or upset you. 

Yet, it never works. 

I think I have learnt a lesson. 

I should care more about my feelings. 

I have learnt it, and it has affected me. 

However, it is just stored there. 

Knowing me, I will have to learn it again and again for it to stick.

I hate that it came down to this, pick this side or this. I hate that people do this. Like it's college, grow up.

Why can't people just be friends and get along? 

Au revoir anyway. 

Expression and Passion

Hello. I feel as if I have not posted in a long time. 

I like that I am myself. I like that I see things my way and have my interests that others may not necessarily like or consider as fun. I like that I am an individual.

One of the ways I express myself is through writing. I love writing so much. It is weird, feeling sentimental about writing, but it is always always a safe haven. It is quite therapeutic too and I feel comfortable in written realms. 

I have so many note books. Hahaha, this is literally what I call 'my stuff' included by my printer and phone and boxes. 

I find that writing has been a constant in my life. I am not a consistent person. Life is not consistent. Nothing is. The only thing is writing. Words will always form a sentence and even if it is not coherent or even if they do not fall in place, words are always mean so much more than what they appear.

I write poetry sometimes. I like it. I like finding out the meaning of words that I have never used before and using them and feeling as if it is right word. I write poems about things that affect me / things that interest me. I wrote one about flies. Because, it was like, who writes a poem on how beautiful flies are? 

Now, though, I mostly write letters. I have literally got a box full of letters and stuff that I have written. It is all mine. We have a rule in my house – do not touch Linda’s stationery or books, and most importantly, if she has written something, YOU CANNOT READ IT unless she has given you permission. 

I have so many letters. And cards as well. I looooovvve cards. I love keeping things. Words mean so much, when they are genuine and I like looking back and seeing all the happy moments that I have been blessed with and all the unhappy stuff.

This is a page from my 'words' book. I love words. I think that they are beautiful, so I have a note book just for collecting words.

So yeah, writing is one of my passions. It is something I cannot live without and I find it is a great way to express myself.

I also have found new found love in colouring. Normally, I would draw in black and white in pen. Like this.

The above is what happens when I get bored.

The above is a picture of me and my best friend in the girls gym on the official last day of high school. 

My favourite picture is one I drew of my form tutors for year 11.  I do not like drawing faces. I am crap at that. However, when I look into the pictures, being faceless makes me remember all the things that you cannot actually see, that is there. Like I remember all the memories. I remember Mrs Hamdoun's office and her giant plant pot, that always looked out of place. I remember that she refused to let anyone take it when she left and that she left it for her department. I remember that I found her weird at first but that she was really so nice and she could read between the unspoken words. I remember all the time she sacrificed for me. When I see Mrs Saeed, I remember the pepper plant I got her when I left and that so many people were like, but why did you get a pepper plant. Her reaction was like, sort of like, I do not know why I need a pepper plant, but I love it anyway. 

I remember that she was there for me a lot. That this was a safe place. And if there were faces, it would be a picture. Being faceless allows my mind to drift and see things that are not explicitly there. 

However, recently, I have been finding colouring is quite appealing. I had been meaning to buy paints. I had been waiting for a sign as well. I thought, hmm, well it does not work like that. I am going to do my  A level exams soon. I do not need something to occupy my time. Then I realised, that yes, indeed, I did, to prevent myself from overloading myself with mountains of revision. That was the first sign, sort of. I needed something fun and enjoyable to do. Then my mum told me to Argos with my brother to get a phone and they gave us two ten pounds vouchers. I took one and my brother did. ‘Do not tell mum or dad,’ we agreed. Then I went to Argos and I saw on the screen that they were selling a treasure box colour in half price. So I thought, hmm, may as well. I made it my mission to decorate it, and well, it was sort of a sign to get pain. Ever since though, I have realised that instead of just drawing, I want to colour as well. 

I am also passionate about projects. 

It is like, one day, I wake up and think, hmmm , I really want to do this.

My latest one is colouring revision notes, where I draw pictures and leave words to a minimum. It is working really well. And it is fun. I revise and I do not even acknowledge it, because in my mind, it is making something and I like making things. 

I wouldn't call this much a passion (it sort of is), but one of the ways I express myself is through revision. I do not know. It's weird. People usually avoid it. However, I am motivated. See and it is not even motivation. It is a part of me. I think that revision brings out the creativity, problem solving, logical, resourceful, capable, rational, confident me. I do not have to worry about what the mirror reflects and if my clothes match and if I am good enough. None of that matters, really. I used to think I was unable and that I was a liability, but revising, as well as all the above, help make me feel like the best version of me. 

It is weird how interests and passion and being able to express yourself is makes a placid life so interesting. See, I do things that people would consider boring or not their thing. I do things that make sense to me and that make me feel positive. The beauty of it, is that, they are all things that are secluded in my little bubble. No one in the outside world has to know or care, so it is all mines. I am never in competition with anyone. It is not like the outside world where we are driven to try and be the best. It is not where you look at what someone else is doing and envy, or feel good about yourself. 

My passions have nothing to do with anyone else. It is all about me. It is the way I am can be selfish and take a break. 

Good night guys. It's 22:38 and I have college tomorrow and I love my sleep. My bed is calling. :)

Peace with myself

I try to pray before I go sleep every day. 

And if I am not that tired, I reflect on the day.

Not everything is happy. Some stuff are stressful, but more than ever, recently, I have been feeling as if things are operating in an harmonious way. It is not perfect, but the notes all fit. I have been feeling at peace and ease with myself. I have just acknowledged that and that makes me happy. I have come a long way. 

There is still along way to go.

I felt like writing a poem

First let us establish what 'peace' is.

Peace and War will always coexist.

Peace seeks not to be perfect harmony and bliss.
It's not that feigned stalemate friendship
where both sides refuse to rock the boat.
It is not without its pain, hurt and spite;
indeed, peace is despite. 

It is the sun shining through the heavy burdened clouds
on a stale cold day
however feeble the ray

Peace with myself is:
not feeling obligated
to forge my face into a smile for a foe
just for the sakes of being pleasant 

Peace is acceptance:
that I am a pushover;
that I am human;
that I can't always.

It is no longer feeling adamant in blaming myself
and accepting that sometimes fault
lies in someone else.

It's stopping in my tracks

to reflect back.

Finding peace in myself is so humane

in many years I tortured myself trying to find it
it was never caught.  

I had a psychology mock today. It was an easy paper. 

I want to get 4'A's for AS. In my first set, I got A's for Bio, Chem and Maths and a B for Psychology.
For the second set I got A's for Bio and pschology, but B's for Maths and chem.
I am hoping this time I get all A's for all my mocks. Bio is an A; that is all I know so far. 

Grades matter to me, okay?

I came home. Thought, hmmm, I'll make lunch (Mushrooms and Quiche) and I'll revise a bit. I ended up watching 2 episodes of Doctor Who. I LOOOOVVVEE IT! 

I wanted to talk about the ood. 

You probably look at it and think, ewh, what an ugly creature. 

It looks ugly and repulsive. 

This is how prejudice operates.

It is inbuilt.

We form judgements based so quickly, and mostly on superficial things, like appearance. 

We are all built to do this. It's how we survive. 

But the problem is really, think, I am not going to get to know a person because of my opinion. 

Yes, we are probably right when it comes to judgements; the brain is a spectacular detective,

However, we get things wrong. 

Therefore we should always challenge our judgements and get to know someone, inspite of that.

About the Ood. 

In Doctor who, they are portrayed as beautiful, peaceful and vulnerable.

The only thing that is ugly is the abuse they are subjected too. 

Oods are perhaps more humane that people. 

Harry Potter, fourth book, sorta reviewish thing post

I just finished the fourth book of Harry Potter.

It was soooooooo emotional.

I have been burying myself in the book for the past weeks, immersed in all the goings on of Hogwarts and now, it has met a dramatic ending. Cedrick has died and everyone is grieving. Next thing is, imagine the worst thing ever - something in your past, you thought you escaped; Voldermort in this case. Well he is back and stronger than ever.

Harry Potter is so beautifully sculptured!

Tomorrow

Today really was not my day at all.

It was an epic flop - the sort of day where all you want to do is be back in bed, away from people. You could do without time cascading by. However, the world being cruel, carries on. Now, imagine me - already lagging behind and tired and the world running ahead. How an earth are you supposed to catch up?

I thought, yeah, my mum on holiday is not just a holiday for me, but it is a holiday for all of us. I certainly know that my mental well being is better off with her in a different continent. That is mean, yes, I know, but so much stress has been relieved for me. There is no constant howling - her shouting is not shouting anymore; that is how bad it is. It is quiet; peaceful. Not to say that I do not want her back.

Her friend keeps calling me. Checking up. I would much rather not.

Also, I do not think I can cope. My family have stepped up a lot from the last time. They are helping me do stuff around the house, but it is still a lot. There is the shopping, cooking, washing plates and coping with things, in general, like the stress of college and social interactions - because I hate being around people sometimes, but I am a person who is forever around people.

I hope for a better day tomorrow.

I told Sameer something the other day when we were awkardly talking. He was talking about how motivation is key and how it is most important in morning or something and I absent minded said, yeah, because if you have a pre-set feeling in the morning, then that determines your whole day. Absent minded, I say, because I was just looking for something insightful and profound seeming to reply.

I was right though.

I woke up thinking, ugh.

The whole day was lived thinking ugh.

It was a half hearted, not going to bother day. I set that in motion in the morning,

So hopefully, I wake up tomorrow and I am able to instil some motivation into myself - for my own sake, because 'not my day' does not suit a person who can turn anything her way if she's motivated.

I hate thinking tomorrow will be my last day. That thought is haunted by denial - of course it won't be, I convince myself otherwise. However, what if it was? What would I want the day to be like?

A day is my canvas and I am the artist. Yes, sure, I do not control it all. I am an artist who is locked out of her house. It rains on the canvas sometimes and the paint droops. However, from there, I can control it. Will I let the colours run or will I pull out a last minute attempt to try and get things in order?

It is not entirely up to me, however, some of it is.

I can sleep all day.

I can refuse to go college.

I can mess around in Biology.

I can.

There is so many choices that I am yet to make.

For tomorrow - one step at a time.

What will I do, when it comes to something I have control in?

:(

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH STUPID MATHS ;(