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so good and so bad.

today was the first day of my third week at topshop. i've been made the customer service motivator for my department. more money and more security. but right now i'm still poor and exhausted.

as the rain spat at my feet, i sat at the bus stop with that dress, that cardigan, that bag, that hair, those eyes, that leg just so: to be perfectly and alluringly casual, gazing whistfully into the distance, but really staring at my reflection in a thousand panes of glass. of course some man also waiting struck up a conversation, and i measured my words, so carelessly thrown out that every ear was captivated. and oh i hate being like this, using everything to validate myself because i'm just so lonely.

i can't stand having no home, no place or person on which i can absolutely rely.

but then i suppose it's always been like this. and really it's me who's never been able to fully grasp reality, never able to understand why and how things can be like this.

and my mother told me this morning that it's all because i'm trying for something more, something beautiful and unreal.

i didn't realise it would be this difficult. and i don't mean moving to london, i mean life.

i'm just not entirely convinced by the world yet.
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sorry i have been lame with responding, replying and generally existing. this week has been slightly cracked. started work at topshop. got drunk with workmates every night this week. kept getting home at 1am and then leaving later that day at 9. death death death.
saw bands and made plans and friends. was told i have 'great potential' and can advance my topshop career. errrrrrr what?
i'm so poor that i've eaten a slice of toast for dinner every night this week. depressing.
now have some money from my mother. will eat today! hoorah!

must go and change now.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

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i'm happy. i'm glad. i'm content.

as i said in an email to my mother, i don't think i'm going to be worried much anymore.

the world has never seemed as beautiful as it does to me right now. days wasted away in museums and just wandering the streets. reading and writing and yes yes drinking shots before 6. and it's not even the impossible, imagined beauty of old, this is real and manifest and dirty and degraded and far more wonderful than anything my cracked out, deluded mind ever managed to produce.

and it isn't good. it isn't pure. it isn't remote or removed from despair. this is the world east of eden. post glory days of heroes and ideals.

this is so full of good and bad that all you can do is feel.

timshel.

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i loved the weather yesterday, all grey and drizzly and soft.
walking around east london, drinking coffee and eating bagels and buying vintage bags and shoes. one of my few last days of unemployed poetic freedom. or something.

it's funny, people i know over here are so sick of dark clouds with their threat of rain, but to me there's nothing more beautiful. in australia there was only one rainy day in a haze of heat. and heat, and sunshine, they're the way of life there. somehow the hot weather is indicative of everything. and it's as though rain is some small respite against the seemingly ever-present glorification of the bleached and beached, of everything i am not. but here that's normal, slightly frizzy fly-aways and cheeks made pink by the cold wind. having dark hair and pale skin is not a problem to be rectified.

the criticism i hear of london is that it's difficult to be different, to stand out. because everyone is different.
in australia at every moment i felt vaguely uncomfortable. people staring, people appalled, people shocked. and to me, just to fade into anonymity, to not be unusual or always on the edge of being beaten up or egged or yelled at, oh it's very nice.
for a while there i did perhaps feel a little overwhelmed and without any definite sense of who i am. but being lost in the crowd, being part of the heaving mass, and yet wearing bright green in a sea of black and grey people off to work, it's not so bad.

i feel like i've remembered something integral to why i do what i do. and occasionally there is that rising panic of the great looming future, which reminds me that this cannot last forever. but who cares?! surely one moment, one day, one year of bright, clean happiness is good enough. well no. but i'll try and pretend that nothing exists outside of this.
* * *
I HAVE A JOB AT TOPSHOP OXFORD STREET.

STARTING NEXT MONDAY. 

HOORAH.

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well everyone, i've actually been here for a month.  

drunken antics and picnics and late night conversations on the bus, and new friends who feel like old friends, and heroes and gigs and happiness really. 

i have an interview for oxford street topshop tomorrow and i am afraid. 
they rang me to organise this interview less than three hours after i applied for the job though, so that seems to be a good sign. 
i really, really, really need this job though. i'm sick of being poor and worrying so much about it. 

i've decided not to go back to australia next year, or ever really. 

i've found my perfect university course, and i'm going to get a scholarship if it kills me. because leaving london is not an option. 

xx teens are dj-ing from 12-2pm at topshop next saturday, so if anyone (hannah!!!!) wants to join me being a weird fangirl, that would be super. 

oh god, i'm so nervous about topshop. 
(save me from tomorrow, oh save me from tomorrow)  

last night was eurgh. it started out as so much fun, but all the triple vodkas and pints and jagerbombs left me feeling dizzy. many many ridiculous amounts of apology to hannah. charlotte and i have sworn never to drink so much again. if i was a different type of person, i might be swearing off alcohol forever. but as it is, as i am, my half bottle of vodka will travel safely around in my handbag still. 

iusohefwoptfawjkbfiqwerhirqweu why am i so worried about tomorrow??? 
1) i need money
2) i need the validation / recognition that i can actually do something
3) money
4) money

wah wah wah. 

please please please let me let me let me get what i want this time.
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oh i told myself that i'd tell my mother that i need money. but i didn't, yet again, laughed it off and changed the topic, swiftly. 

applied for a million jobs and am quite unlikely to hear from any of them at all. 

decided to disregard the future (fuck forever eh?) and cash in (or credit in really, travel around europe on what was supposed to be my ticket home) 

erm what else.

days spent with a bottle (or maybe a cup when a kind italian gentleman decides that it's 'far more beauitful') in leicester square, and dalston the night before and walking from bus stop to bus stop. awaking late, and then traisping through the unknown parts of town. dreaming of a time when all this is slightly more accessible. oh money money money. i wrote a list late last night of everything i'll do and buy once success somehow knocks on my door.

regent's park in the sunshine and 3 litres of lambrini. shaking uncontrollably at some distressing, but untrue news. drink, after drink guzzled down at the dublin castle (our pub) and epiphanies involving love and london and new found home. but not epiphanies really. known all along and just not spoken aloud.

death on the stairs of kings cross station. falling and forgotten oyster cards and fairly wasted, yes. stumbling back alone, but with company in my heart (now and forever and ever and ever). take-away food (how did i afford that?) and my bag and all it's contents covered in what was supposed to be my dinner. beyond caring of course. 

death on the stairs of home too, as i wobbled up (and crawled too) the many many flights. almost gave up and just deposited myself on the landing. but some super human force spurred me on and into bed. where i lay for six hours not sleeping a wink. thinking and pondering and planning and hoping that somehow things would actually work out. 

so much to do. 

in some vague (and doubtlessly tactless) way, i let my mother know that i'm staying. something along the lines of "i can't be completely happy because you're not here, but i can't be at all happy anywhere else" 

it's funny how you find something or some place (or some people. oh yes.) who you just realise you cannot. CANNOT. leave. ever.

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HEY HANNAH.

REMEMBER HOW I TOLD YOU I WAS ONLY GOING TO SHOWS THAT I WAS ON THE GUESTLIST FOR. YEAH?

ALRIGHT, SO DO YOU WANNA COME WITH ME TO BOYS OF BRAZIL ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT? I'VE GOT A PLUS ONE. 

YEAH. THAT'S RIGHT. I'M A WINNER. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

ps. the reason i'm not just posting this as a comment to hannah specifically is because i like showing off okay? i'm just that kind of a girl. LOLS.

* * *

queued from 3pm. 
drank from 3pm.
saw carl and didz entering, but being drunk actually failed to do anything about it. (five minutes later i was like, "oh that was carl and didz. fuck.")
met some totally brilliant lj people.
was on the barrier. even after weird ticketing incident.
got a setlist.
met gary, stan, didz, timmy (errrrrrr right) and carlos.
got journal signed by the boys.

my interaction with carl:

strange fanboy / ghey incident (see dptband)
carl: *looks at me*
me: *makes o rly? face* 
carl: *makes ya rly face*
me: erm, can you sign this for me? *shoves journal in front of him*
carl: *looks at me with LOLZ written all over his face as he angles my journal away from me and writes something*
me: ...
carl: there you go *amused look again*
me: *puts out my arms*
carl: of course
*hugs*
carl: *looks at me like he's really really impressed with himself*

....

me: *reads (and finally deciphers) what carl wrote in my journal* which is '4 me. ♥ carlos x' 
me: oh carl. *facepalm*

and omg i love gary. charlotte told him i'd come all the way from australia to see them and he just looked over at me, made an 'o rly?' face and said "i think that's a bit of a factual inaccuracy."
oh gary. 
and then we discussed shoe care. (both wearing white shoes you see)
me: gary. how do you keep your shoes so white?
gary: *looks down at both our feet* god, what happened!?!
me: i went to the camden crawl
gary: oh! that'll do it. 
me: lolz. yes.
gary: i actually clean mine. 

oh yeah. i hugged (TOPLESS) stan. and then when i pulled back he grabbed my hand and i just stood there holding stan's hand and listening to him talk about something for actually about thirty seconds and then we hugged again. 

and omg alan mcgee was there. in a hat. LOLZ. 

and timmy was dressed like an emo flasher. SRSLY.

i forget the rest. it was super though.

it did take a ridiculous amount of time and shivering to get home on several buses though. but still. 

i don't know. it wasn't the same as meeting peter. (well, obviously). i was just so much less starstruck by carl than i thought i'd be. i didn't feel the need to randomly scream out declarations of love and start kissing him. which is probably a good thing actually. it was just kind of weird is all.

i think it's one of a series of things that is leading me to believe that my concept of london is being de-idealised (erm, if that's a word. wtf). another in this long list is my absolute poverty. i no longer eat or drink anything that hasn't been bought for me. god. but we don't talk about that...

love and kisses and wishes upon stars to you all 

* * *

there's so much to say! i queued from before 7am to get tickets. (it was a secret show and so it was free, but you could only get tickets if you were going to the camden crawl and put babyshambles and myspace secret shows in your top 8) so anyway, after 5 hours of being absolutely freezing cold and making lots of pete-obsessed friends, we finally were given free babyshambles t-shirts and our wristbands, which is what we needed to get into the gig. we were told that it was ar koko and that we needed to be there before 2.30. so we all went off and got ridiculously wasted and met outside koko at 2. when it reached 3.30 and there was no sign of life inside, we started to freakout a bit, thinking he wouldn't turn up or something. there were myspace and channel 4 and mtv and nme reporters hanginjg around filming us and asking us about how we'd met in the queue, and then one of them told us that babyshambles weren't playing at koko, but that we were going to be taken to a secret location. hilariously, none of us believed him...until a whole fleet of taxis pulled up. then we started screaming and running around and going completely mental. i couldn't even tell where we were going because i was so busy screaming out the windows "we're going to see pete! omg omg omg!"
erm, then we pulled up at a tiny TINY bar called studio 88. and we were lead into a TINY back room where their equipment was set up. i actually lost my mind then because omg seeing babyshambles in a room the size of my kitchen! we had to wait for another hour. which made us all freakout again. and then he walked down the stairs, through the crowd, and onto the 'stage'. i was less than a metre away from him for the whole gig! they played fuck forever, killamangiro, albion (during which peter crowdsurfed!), 8 dead boys and the blinding. during the blinding everyone pretty much trashed the stage and equipment and peter was throwing stuff everywhere! then he ran up the stairs and outside. i dragged all my friends outside. peter was sitting down getting snapped by the paps, and drew was sort of standing to the side so i went over to him and hugged him and spoke to him for a second. then peter started going over to his car and we all sort of swarmed him and kept hugging and kissing him and saying how much he'd inspired us and how nuch we loved him. (and he wasn't wasted actually, so he was taking notice of what we said and being all sweet about it) and then he was about to get into his car and i yelled out "peter! can i have another hug" and he turned around and came back and i hugged him and again and told him i loved him and other embarasssing things that you say when you're right trashed.

oh dear. i just realised how much i wrote! sorry! i could really keep going on about it forever! but i wont because i've got to go and get ready to see dpt :)

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