Some of you may have noticed The Hell Butterfly has been dormant a while. Some of you may not, and that’s okay too. But in either case, here is a brief update of why.
I have, as you may recall, moved out of my old student house. Unfortunately, there is no rest for the homeless (or something like that). I have been unpacking, repacking, unboxing, reboxing, organising, moving around and generally preparing for the next big move at the end of this week. As it stands, on Friday I will get an early train to Plymouth, where I shall meet Bambi, then pick up my key and slob at mine until Bambi goes to work. The next three hours of my life will be spent filling out the inventory form, setting up the wifi and acclimatising to my new abode. Bambi will return after work to chill for the evening. So far I have discovered I shall be sharing my house with Richard, Adrian, Thomas and Waleed. It would appear I will be the only female in a house of men. What could go wrong? I just hope none of them are misogynists.
In other news, I have just submitted my third article to The Unknowledgeable. This one is one I was asked personally by my boss, the founder of the online magazine, to write. Now, this may sound impressive, and indeed it is to me, but before we get ahead of ourselves I should say I don’t believe there can be many more than 10 members of ‘staff’, myself included. Perhaps I just can’t see behind the proverbial curtain, but while the quality is good and I enjoy writing for them, I don’t think it’s a greatly known magazine. And I’m definitely not traffic-trawling by saying this or posting the link to my article on online safety or anything [I totally am, click the doobly-doo, go on, do it for me: ‘Catfish’ Lessons in Online Safety]. This request to write the article came straight after I created my sister website Stop The Silent Killer and shared the link on my Facebook page. My boss approached me in a very formal (lies, all lies) Facebook Chat message and basically asked me to write a monthly mental health feature for the magazine. Of course I readily accepted, and within a couple of days my introduction to mental health article should be up online. I had some struggles writing it, but I found sitting in my bed in the quiet I was finally comfortable enough to get into the mind frame and complete it. Hopefully soon I should be back on track with this blog too.
On the Bambi front, things are good. Talking to him is effortless. Well, mostly effortless. He has so many interesting things to say and so many good opinions I sometimes wonder what I’ve been doing all my life to be so .. uninteresting. So uncultured, so lacking of my own opinion on pretty much anything. But he’s fascinating to talk to, and I find I can talk to him about things in a way I haven’t ever been able to talk to people about them before. He just has a way of making me feel at ease. And he’s very sweet (duh, Statement of the Year, Captain Obvious). In a nutshell, he knows how to treat a person right, as a girl, a friend, and a human being. As you will remember from the beginning of this post, I will be meeting him on Friday straight from my 4 hour train journey and I don’t doubt my belongings will be thrown to the ground so I will be able to give him a big hug. Neither of us want to rush things, but I can’t help but be optimistic about what might develop if things keep up this way. Though I might blow my chances if I keep pretending that I can speak German.
My depression is attempting to make an appearance. I’m beginning to notice certain places where it shows itself in my everyday life, and while it’s not a good sign that they’re coming up, I can also say from experience things are far from terrible. Lately I am tired all the time. Whether I sleep for 2 or 12 hours, I am always exhausted. Perhaps lethargic is a better word. Essentially, I lack energy no matter how long I sleep for. I’m also noticing the time-mood correlation returning. The later it gets, the lower my mood sinks. During the day I am pretty much always okay, but as the evening draws on into night, so my mood follows suit and becomes darker. In this respect I must say Bambi has been amazing. When my mood dips he is willing to simply listen as I pour my crap out, and is great at having just the right thing to say in the end. I feel I should put this return of symptoms down to the building stress of moving house, and I suppose in general, to change. New house, new job, new man, maybe, new academic year. If it is stress related, I am afraid things may turn a little darker on The Hell Butterfly for a time, but I implore you please do not see it as a bad thing. If I post about the problems I am having, and the struggles in my life, it is because I trust you enough to tell you, and value your support.
I will wrap this up for tonight by saying that I may be absent again for a short while with moving and things, but hopefully the hiatus will be temporary. This next year is going to be very tough in more ways than I would like to list, but I’m going to try my hardest to make it count. Things need to change, and I think that with support, drive, and perseverance I might be able to come out the other side the better for it.
Today’s title is a little dramatic, but I don’t know what better one to use. This week was a triumph in every way.
1. Room packed down, cleaned. Keys handed back in. Moved successfully out of my second year student house.
2. Met Bambi, twice. Had a very nice time on both occasions, possibility of meeting again. Dad approves of him.
3. England wins Test Cricket 3 – 1 against India. Plymouth Argyle beat Exeter City 3 – 0. Swansea beat Manchester United 2 – 1. England wins 23 medals at the European Athletic Championships, breaking several records along the way.
It has been a good week.
Mum drives me to Plymouth. This journey was rocky for me. As I mentioned in a previous post this is the first time in over three years I was physically sick from traveling. Perhaps it was using my phone, perhaps the stress of the upcoming week, perhaps I was just unlucky. Regardless I made it to Plymouth, and the next hour was spent shuttling boxes from room, to landing, to stairs, to car: CD’s; books; Xbox; more books; printer. There were probably other things, but that’s what I remember. By 3pm, Mum was gone. From then, the next three and a half hours were spent showering, eating, getting ready and texting. At 6:45, I left the house.
7pm – I meet Bambi. I step out in front of the university library and see him, we shake hands, and head to the pub, The Voodoo Lounge. I don’t know if this is a chain, or a Plymouth specific pub, but I liked it. Well, more the interior. Perhaps it was the dull sky but it wasn’t quite to my taste on the outside, though I imagine it could be quite nice in a group. The interior was all wood panelling and red leather, pool table, subtle lighting. Nice. But it was hot, felt a little closed, so we sat outside. Two drinks and a smoke later we were off for part two: fireworks.
9.30 pm – we watch the show. One picnic blanket, several comments about the irritating children and one hour later than expected, the first display began. Until this point, conversation has been entertaining, serious, funny, cute and deep. It seems effortless, and there has never been an awkward pause. The moon this night is red, a rare occurrence, possibly in relation to the meteor shower. The fireworks happen right next to this, so we get a good view of both. We cannot help but laugh at the people who “ooh” and “ahh” and feebly applaud the display. We cuddle as the second display happens, and as the families leave, and as the final display is put on. In this one the melodramatic “ooh” from the other side of the water is heard even here. My vote goes to the first or second display, but not the last. We then went home, conversation still holding strong, and I am home by midnight. It was a very good night.
Cleaning day. This entire day is dedicated to packing down, boxing up, and cleaning. The rest of the day was spent on my computer, taking to Bambi, talking to my bestie, writing blog posts. I was also feeling very down. So was my bestie. I wrote ‘In Which the Blind Leads the Blind’ to express this. I was having a bad time of it, and I felt like a hypocrite trying to cheer him up. I hope he can get better, and I hope I can be there to help, but on this particular day, neither of us were having such a great day. Needless to say, after lots of heavy lifting and cleaning, coupled with a painfully low mood, I was ready for bed.
More cleaning. The morning and most of my afternoon was spent attempting to clean blue tack marks off my walls. I tried water. I tried water and washing up liquid. I tried plain washing up liquid. I tried a shop bought solution aptly labelled ‘Elbow Grease’. I tried a shop bought, but very strong, Sugar Soap. I moved out with my walls still sporting the scars of my rock band obsession. It must not have been a particularly interesting day, as aside from a shower, I cannot remember anything else I did that day. My Dad showed up late in the evening, we watched the last half hour of Million Pound Drop, then went to bed.
The morning is unremarkable. Honestly, it is. I cannot remember what I did. I think I probably slept in, ate half a breakfast bar and drank a cup of tea. What happened after that was much more entertaining and memorable. After this, we are off to Home Park. The FansFest to be precise. The FansFest is a fan run pre-match event offering pasties, beer, music and laughter. Rick O’Shay and Dave Banana perform a small stand-up comedy show, making fun of recent news, and whipping out the best general jokes they come up with that week. It truly is a special experience, being in a room packed with jolly football fans, full of comradery, and having a laugh without a smidge of negativity. Plymouth Argyle has one of the biggest fan bases in the League. I am proud to wear my green and whites.
Speaking of which, we spent out yet more money on the new uniform. My Dad’s shirt says “Chooch 13” and my own says “Moozle 7”. Not only is it my nickname and my favourite number, it is also the number of one of my favourite Argyle players, Lewis Alessandra. It’s an honour to wear his number on my back. Plus, it’s a child’s Small. Got to love that. The game was fantastic. We began by holding up our plastic sheets and hoisting our colours to the sky, and ended 3 – 0 up, beating our biggest rivals, Exeter City. Our defense was impeccable, our attack was on top form, and while I miss such players as Cole, Young and Berry, I must say Sheridan has done a great job on this season’s team. I foresee good things from them.
A small lunch is had and the evening’s plans are made. After the game we returned to mine, and watched television until we were ready to go out to the pub to celebrate the win. During this time, I was texting Bambi and discovered he had no plans, and invited him to join us. I had asked my Dad beforehand if this was okay, and he said yes. I hadn’t intended for it to be a movie cliche “I want you to meet my parents” scene, but I couldn’t help still wanting my Dad to approve of him. Bambi is the first person I’ve ever wanted my family to approve of. So me and my Dad went to the Caffeine Club, a particular favourite haunt of ours, and Bambi joined us shortly after. I must say, I think it went well. The two of them appeared to get on well, and as I later heard my Dad say, “[Bambi’s] a little rough around the edges but gets softer every time.” Knowing my Dad, this is a good sign. He also happened to notice a certain amount of affectionate behaviour (ie. hand-holding). I will admit at first I was unsure, but very quickly grew comfortable with it. Four hours later and we were walking back to mine. My Dad went inside and left us to our goodbyes. Bambi, if you’re reading this I hope you don’t mind my telling my readers, but I can’t help it, I like to say it. At quarter to one on Sunday morning I had my first kiss. I won’t talk much about it, but suffice to say, it was an awesome moment and I’ve been grinning like an idiot since.
52 Beaumont Road is left behind me. I’m not convinced I slept that night. One moment I was trying to convince myself it had happened, the next I was laughing to myself about it, the next I was stressing about the move, the next I was simply trying to clear my head to sleep but then I’d remember again and smile. I got out of bed at around 9am and finished packing up my room. Boxes were moved from room to car, surfaces were cleaned, the floor was hoovered and by eleven o’clock we were on the road. Before I continue, I should say that in the 48 hours prior to this journey I had consumed around 800 calories. I can’t lie, writing that number feels like a lot, but considering the time span I realise it is not. I had barely eaten on that Saturday, at first for time constraints, then later on because of my inability to eat in front of people. By the time we got home after our night at the pub it was almost 1am, I felt sick, and it was too late to eat. Fast forward to Sunday morning and, though I possibly should have, I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything. After my bout of travel sickness on the journey up, I would do nothing to risk it happening again. By the time I got home that afternoon I hadn’t eaten in 24 hours. So it is eleven o’clock, and we get to North Road. I hand my keys in, walk away, and that is it. My contact with Clever Student Lets has ceased. We were on the road to pit stop number two.
A visit to the grandparents and four hours driving. Twelve o’clock and we are at my grandparents. Not much can be said for this visit. It’s always nice seeing them, but this time was a flying visit, a quick catch up. I told them about my new position at the online magazine, we talked about my sister getting in to uni, my Dad fixed my uncle’s computer and taught my Granddad how to use Bluetooth, and we saw a picture of a man up a tree. Standard visit. I also got to see my cousin Billy again who I haven’t seen in some time. He got tall. I remember when he was just a diddy little thing, smaller than me, but despite being 4 years my junior, he is at least 7 inches taller than me now. It was nice to see he’s doing well in his football career, even if he is being a rebellious teen for his dad (my uncle). He gave me a friendly nod as he left, and ten minutes later we were gone too. The journey was pretty horrid. On the way up to Plymouth it was bad because I felt very sick. On the way back, my Dad’s driving made me feel sick. 30mph down narrow back roads, 90mph down the motorway, taking downhill bends at full throttle. I genuinely felt like we would topple over at one stage. It was horrible. Add in us getting lost near Southampton and getting stuck in traffic, I was beyond relieved to be back on solid ground. We were home, and I could sit still.
Since then, we have unpacked the car, I have helped my sister write a list for her own uni things, I have put in my second article and Bambi and I have talked almost constantly. I really do feel very lucky to have found someone like him. It already feels different to M24. With him, I was all girly and gushy over the smallest of things, but with Bambi, sure I’m girly and gushy but that’s only a small part of it. I smile every time I get a text from him. I look forward to waking up every day knowing I’ll have a text from him saying good morning. I’d happily stay up (and have done) until 4am talking to him about nonsense, or about us, or about, well, anything. I really think I’m on to something good with him. And if I can make him half as happy as he makes me I’ll be content.
So I have moved out, I have found a very sweet guy who I can’t wait to see again (and who has been kind enough to offer to help me move in to my new place next year), and it is a great time for sports. A triumph on all fronts. For once, I finally feel as though my life is going in the right direction, and I’m not completely terrified that I’ll mess it up. I actually feel like I can do this, I can make my life work, that just maybe, if I can hold it together, I have the makings of a great life. Now all I have to do is help my bestie through his rough patch, and things will be nigh on perfect.