Never in my life will I refuse to admit that I’m wrong.

Exams are so close. They’re so daunting. More than that, they’re sooo taking over my life. And I hate it. I mean, when it all comes down to it- exams are just that. Exams. They aren’t called “Matters of Life or Death”, and they certainly aren’t the be-all and end-all of my life, or anyone’s, for that matter.

The long weekend starts on Thursday night. Nan’s called to tell me I’ll have to stay somewhere else until Friday, as she’ll still be “Radioactive” until then. It’s an inconvenience, but again, something in life a person must deal with. Her treatment’s going well, though- I’ve been ringing as regularly as I can remember, and each time I talk to her she seems more and more optimistic. I really do hope that this whole lymphoma experience changes her- hope being the operative word. She’s so damn stubborn and set in her ways that it’d take another Nazi take-over to change her lifestyle. But at least it will have shown her that there are things out of her control; things and circumstances she cannot change or be rid of when it suits her. Perhaps she’ll be enlightened.

I’ll be 16 in October, and I’ll have spent 16 years on this earth, living and learning, and loving not quite enough. P said I was “cold” today. She and Case both agreed that it must’ve been Pete who turned me this way. They say that “behind every bitch is a man who made her that way”, and the conversation turned to what could’ve made me so. For myself, I’m not cold. I’m too honest and too harsh, but I feel the way others do. In the words of The Breakfast Club, “I have just as many feelings as you do, and hurts just as much when someone steps all over them”. But the girls were right- I can come across as unfeeling. As cold. As nasty, too, depending on how you look at it. It takes getting used to an I’ll be the first to admit I’m a giant pain in the backside to live with, to talk to, to accept- and yet people do accept me. They befriend me, they value my opinion. So I must be doing something right.

Mum says I’ve grown up. That means a helluva lot, coming from her. It’s something gradual, I believe. While the other girls message boys, pretending to be drunk, I’m the girl who’s doing the study. When the boarding girls put up a wall, forbidding day-girls to even speak to them, I’m the one who branches out. It’s not half as conceited as it sounds- the girls in here are too often snooty and disrespectful, rebellious and ridiculous. They think they’re mature enough to flout the rules and judge the other girls. They think they’re mature enough to say one thing and do another, and that the term “hypocrisy” doesn’t apply to them. It’s a generalization, I know, and there are some who I’m not referring to- but in the end, is it the rebel, who screams and shouts when life is unfair, who’s mature? Or is it the “nerd”, the “goody-goody”, who does what they’re told and accepts that not everything in life is fair- and that there’s a time to speak up and a time to shut up- the latter of which the Boarder’s have the most trouble with.

And with that cynical take on Boarding life I leave you- be sure to remember that life is a grand thing and that no-one, not anybody, in the whole world can take away what you have inside of you- that strength and that will to do what you believe is right.

Friday Night Catharsis

Friday nights are my self-reflection time. I like to write letters to old friends or send texts to those I’ve neglected during the week. I write Journal entries and read books and generally take a break from studying. It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed by all that’s going on at the moment, so it’s good to have some time to just sit and do as little as possible. My Nan’s motto is to do as much as possible as often as possible, in an attempt to get the most out of life. The result is a high-strung 60-something woman who cannot see the beauty of a dewy lawn or take the time to acknowledge an elderly neighbor’s meek hello. That’s nothing against my Nan- she’s the kindest thing since Mother Teresa but her priorities are a little misconstrued.

This afternoon was devoted to a school-wide “Fun Run”. 1,500 squawking girls dressed in the smallest shorts they owned, some going as far as to turn up in underwear and a cape, all trekking through the suburbs on a five km “Hike Though The Hills”. For myself, it was a great excuse to get out of Human Bio and Dance, to get out into the fresh air, release a few thousand endorphins and wonder when exactly it was that the idea of dressing up like a twat and running though the streets became immature. It was more of an Un-Fun Walk, in terms of the lactic acid build-up I am now battling.

I’ve been noticing my despicable behavior toward the other girls lately- despicable being no form of an understatement. I’ll put it down to being stressed, what with those dreadful exams and school in general- the fact the my new Human Bio teacher is a moron makes matters no better. It’s no excuse I know, to be treating others so, and I must post about my cruelty once a month (at a minimum), but in doing so I get a tad bit more self-aware and can once again attempt to curb my disagreeableness. I don’t want to be a source of intimidation for the other girls- and I want to keep my friends.

Tomorrow morning Em is coming to pick me up. She and Mum have been friends for years, and she’s simply a wonderful person. The only apprehension I have about going to her place this weekend is that her girlfriend is more than a little rough-looking, in terms of not being happy until everyone knows her sexuality. I mean, it’s fine, you’re a lesbian- but there is no reason to parade around like it’s some kind of badge of honor. I’m clinging to the hope that underneath the façade she’s a genuinely nice person, worthy of Emma, and that the weekend won’t be a complete awkward disaster.

The ex and the ex-friend have officially called it a day- not to my surprise or displeasure. I mean, I can’t pretend that it makes me happy to see her heart broken (over the internet!), but then, I no longer care enough about the whole affair to be upset. I did message her, however- not having experienced it myself, I would assumed being dropped is a terrible occurrence- one that no-one should have to bear.

Cate has been giving me regular updates about the episodes of Robin Hood, as I don’t watch it at boarding. She has a love interest in her life; a boy, I predict, who will make her happy for a decent amount of time, if either one of them works up the courage to ask the other out.

As for myself, I’m in a decent state of catharsis at the moment- I’m quite happy to “plod along”, as Mum puts it, studying when I can, going for walks, getting in touch with my spirituality before I lose it altogether. I’m not sure of anything and I’m not sure I want to be. All I’m wanting for is a weekend that lasts a long time and involves plenty of adventures.

*Sigh* Another Day In Paradise

Exams are coming up faster than even I had anticipated- and I’ve been planning study timetables for a month. Everyone has gone into shock and stress attacks are becoming more and more frequent. I know in my heart it’s not worth worrying yourself to tears, and yet I find myself having to remind myself of it more and more often- a complete mental breakdown would no doubt be bad for my complexion. I thought I’d take some time out to write a little something to keep you guys up on what’s going on nowadays- I’ll have you know Peter and my “not-date” went wonderfully. He’s not changed much at all, other than I have a sneaking suspicion he may be doing drugs. It upsets me to think so- an increasing number of people I know/ know of/ try not to know are falling into the very same trap. I swore to myself I’d never befriend or be close to a person who did that to themselves- and I mean to stand by it. His birthday party in June is going to be a messed-up bunch of his “friends” getting drunk and high and no doubt taking even worse illicit substances… There’s no way in the world I’d subject myself to that kind of environment. I guess I am a prude- I’m judgmental of the type of kids who do that, and I definitely think I can do better- but you must understand, my mother raised me to be terrified of drugs, and I’ve taught myself to resist the temptation. I don’t want to get sucked in and end up- well, end up on a completely different track, spiraling toward nothingness. Not to mention my Mum would probably murder me. :p School is just what you’d expect- the girls are being girly, the sluts are being slutty, and the weather is slowly fading into winter- rain and cold and sickness all round. I’m glad, in a way- a sense of normality is great once in a while, and I particularly enjoy sitting back and people-watching to convince myself I’m not the only one in this world with problems. Nanna started her treatment today. Her lymphoma’s not curable, but treatable, I’ve been told. All signs are good, but that doesn’t stop the nagging feeling of dread that refuses to cease. I’m sure I’m just overreacting and looking for a place to use dramatic vocabulary, but you’ve all been there and will know what I mean. I fit back into my “skinny” jeans…just. But fit into them I do. And so, to Juan- I have indeed been making progress, even thought the weather here is repulsive. Anushka and I went out on the weekend- poor thing’s caught a cold since then. We really felt Andy’s absence and I almost wanted to cry. I miss him. There aren’t a lot of words to describe it any other way. Paige said to me yesterday that every time she sees me I “get prettier”. It was a compliment and a half, as you can see- she’s a naturally nice girl but I really appreciated it. That’s not to say I do get prettier by the day- only that it’s nice to have someone say so. I can’t emphasize how much I miss my Mum. We’re so close nowadays that it feels as though I’ve lost my right arm- I’ve certainly lost my confidante, my objective observer, and my best friend. I really can’t wait to see her next holidays- we get along so well it’s as though I’m just catching up with a mate. To all of those wonderful women out there who call themselves Mums, Happy Mothers Day for Sunday. And for all those who’s Mother’s are indeed one of a kind- tell them you love them, and really let them know the extent of your appreciation- know I will.