I have a jar of honey-mustard on my desk.
Whilst this fact makes me incredibly, super happy as I am in fact in need of some serious mustard inclusion in the good ole’ student kitchen, it also makes me cry a little. Well, hypothetically. I’m not actually shedding literal tears for the poor glass jar. Simply at the idea that it represents. I’m leaving again in a week, and that means re-packing up boxes, and re-moving back down south, and while it’s super exciting because I love Brighton and the dramatics of being a drama student (funny that..), I’m gonna miss the ‘Shire. It’s like this teensy little insignificant snapshot that I have to lock up super tight and hide away somewhere in between my ribs – wow, kinda gross analogy – because the people who appreciate and understand all the significant parts, even the irrelevant ones, are all also spread out everywhere. And not just up the road, around for a drink or a talk or a laugh or a cry. And this makes me upset.
I mean only a little. Sure I can’t wait to go back to B-town. It’s unbelievable that not only am I having a blast with new people, I’m living near the sea! Although that’s still not quite settled in my head yet (: But that’s probably more to do with all the cold relief crap I’m dosed up on, rather than me just being odd. Or maybe I am just a little odd, and regardless of the fact that it’s a five minute train ride to the sea, and I have a ridiculously loud, rude seagull who has decided to play house outside my window and squawk uncontrollably at stupid o’clock every morning, I just can’t seem to get my head round that tiny fact. But that’s fair enough. There were seagulls at my school, and that was nowhere near the sea. In fact I actually don’t have a clue how exactly seagulls ended up in the middle of the West Midlands. What if there’s some trafficking issue there? Oh god that’d be crap.. Poor seagulls. Y’know I really felt for the seagulls on fireworks night.. I mean do you think they just know on that night every year that it is super advisable to avoid flying low. At all costs. Or are there more than the average nightly frequent-flyer accidents on the 5th of November? How awful..
And I don’t even *like* the damn birds. They attack me and steal my food.