AAAAHHHH!

I tried to think of a way to describe the way I feel right now, but I feel this picture says it all. Italian Language, Contemporary Italy, German Language, German Grammar, German Literature, Landeskunde, German History, Opera Music and Little Women Libretto = my life.

If you're around the Bristol area between 8-11th December, you should come and see my show. It's going to be fabulous :-) http://www.sta.bristol.ac.uk/tickets/

Single Pringle (Song of Songs style)

This morning my bible itself up on page 480 and literally shoved this verse in my face:

Daughters of Jerusalem. I charge you by the the gazelles and the does of the filed: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires Song of Songs 3:5

It convicts me right to my core. only a couple of months ago did I write a blog entitled Fearless Singleness about how I was determined to not be afraid of my singleness, to enjoy being unattached and to trust that God has the answer to it in his ultimate plan for my life.

When I wrote that blog I had just completed my 2nd and final year at an all girls' grammar school and was looking to spend my Summer enjoying the company of my school friends and my church; both groups holding no potential 'romance'. Thus, it was pretty easy to be content.

As I write this I am faced with a very different and, in my opinion, more complicated challenge. I am in a place full of very eligible intelligent young men who enjoy learning, reading, films, Gilmore Girls, theatre, music and wear boots and loafers. I am meeting new people everyday and my friends are all free to pair off or have the occasional fling with someone. I know deep in my heart that I am not in the right place for a relationships, in fact, I am pretty sure I don't want anything of that sort at this time (first singleness rule achieved -woop!) However, I know I want one eventually and for some reason, in the back of my mind, I sense a metaphorical find-your-partner clock ticking incessantly. It's stupid and incredibly pathetic. I'm looking at all these lovely men, some who share my faith and some who don't, and panicking because a) in my mind we'd be compatible, even though they're not a christian, so why shouldn't I just go for it (EVEN THOUGH I DON'T WANT ANYTHING NOW!) and b) there's this assumption that you should meet your spouse at university and I don't want to be left behind.

Yet this verse brings it all home. It sets the standards I have for myself and should, theoretically, set the guidelines for my behaviour. The right thing at the wrong time is still the wrong thing. If I'm not READY for the RIGHT relationship then the whole thing will inevitably fall flat on its face and I'll end up losing something previous, something worthwhile. Dwelling on the things I want in a relationships arouse my desire to search for love and awaken feelings for people that should probably never have existed. It also distracts me from the opportunities my singleness provides to become the most studious student, the best friend and the most dedicated performer I can be. If it's God's will for me to be married then I shall certainly have plenty of time in my life set aside for love and romance, and whilst this whole prospect excites me so much, I know that right now is the time for me to develop myself as a person and enjoy the freedom singleness brings.

Snapshots of Student Living: Sainsbury's Basics Peanut Butter and a Wasp Infestation

This is our new vice: Sainsbury's Basics Peanut Butter. It's 67p and whilst not so nutty as the branded jars, it's still SO good. I literally daydream about spreading this stuff on rice-cakes, on toast, hell I even dream about scooping it out of the jar with a spoon. There was a point this week where pretty much every cupboard on floor 5 had a jar on the 1st shelf, within quick and easy access, in order to satisfy our cravings. Yesterday Emily and I even began talks on investing in a communal bucket to which I replied 'It'd go SO quickly, I'd just keep dipping my spoon in' and she said 'Forget about a spoon, I'd just dip my whole FACE in'.

This is why I love my floor.

We've also had problems with a group of dying wasps who seem to have found our bathroom and indeed our bedrooms to be at a desirable temperature in which to spend their last cosy hours on earth. It's gross. Just the other day, a wasp flew right past my nose and nestled itself within the homely cardboard of my coffee machine box. I am convinced I have heard it buzzing, as if convulsing, inside that retched thing all night long. *shudder* It sounds horrid, but I really wish it would just hurry up and DIE.

Remember November

'Remember, remember the 5th of November', Remembrance Sunday, Thanksgiving, they all have November in common. My birthday, too, falls in the centre of the month. This year November has compelled me to remember; to remember history, to remember those who fought, to remember my own history, to remember to be thankful. Today is Sunday the 14th of November: Remembrance Sunday and the 4 month anniversary of my friend's death. Poignant, significant, ironic...these words all come to mind as I reflect on the day.

I've struggled this week. I've felt restless, unsatisfied and depressed. Most nights have been spent roaming the corridors of my mind trying to shut the doors of the rooms that were stressing me out and letting the light flood out of those that were giving me peace. For some reason the 'life-is-changing-I'm-so-not-ready-for-this' door was wedged open despite my desperate attempts to close it. In my final struggle to push the door to and finally enter the land of nod this terrible gust of grief whizzed through my mind, winding me and reopening my wounds. I cried for the first time in months. I suddenly realised that everything else I was struggling with, my frustration, depression, anxiety, they all stem from this pain. It's still so intense, most of the time my body and brain refuse to acknowledge it, they blame it on an overloaded schedule, on moving to university and unresolved conflict and whilst these things have had an affect on me, it's all escalated by the loss of Annie. There's a part of me that assumes that I'm over it, I'm paranoid that other people expect me to brush off the dust and pick myself up in the way you do after a break-up. But this is SO much bigger than that. There are always new relationships to look forward to and if it hasn't worked out with a boyfriend, it's probably because you're not compatible. Annie and I were compatible, not in a romantic sense of course, but in a sisterly way.

There is a part in Jane Eyre when Mr Rochester tells Jane that they are like long lost twins and that when she leaves him the special bond they share will be broken and he will bleed internally, eternally. I'm still bleeding. It's not always noticeable, sometimes I can barely feel it but other times it's searing, burning. I've been trying so desperately to believe in God's goodness, trying to see the purpose and reason behind her death, but there have been moments this week when the whole thing has seemed so unjustifiable. I feel robbed. I want her here, I want her to meet my new friends, I want the life we planned in Bristol together.

November has rudely tickled awake the pain of old memories and the fear I used to feel about the future. As I've reflected on my 18th year, with all it's trials, adventures and fun, it's frightened me how different my life is now. Everything changed. I've learnt and lost so much, and whilst I've also grown enormously in my faith and as a person, I'm still a little overwhelmed. The carpet has literally been pulled out from under my feet and I've been left suspended in midair wondering what happened to the floor. I just wonder and dread where this year will take me. Hopefully on to greater, more positive things.

This is one of the last photographs of Annie. I like to think it represents her looking back from heaven, reassuring us that she's there in a better place. A gift from God to her friends and family to help us in our grief.

Today I look at it and think: 'Wow, that's one of MY best friend. How did I get so lucky?'

Here's the link to her twitter. Gives you a glimpse of the person I'm missing: http://twitter.com/#!/angharadclague

Red Cups @ Starbucks

As much as I'm an advocate for independent coffee shops, particularly here in Bristol, there's something about Starbucks that feels like home. Perhaps it's because it reminds me of sixth-form and trips to London and Christmas. I'm currently embarking on my first ever visit to a Bristolian Starbucks, prompted mainly by a loaded Starbucks card that was sitting in my pigeon-hole from my very kind Aunty and also by a rather disillusioned search for brown, leather ankle boots - it seems like such a simple request, but either the whole world has turned Vegan or we have a serious lack of cows in Britain. I can't find any ANYwhere.

However, I digress. Everyone who is anyone knowns that when the red cups come out at Starbucks there is a happy Ellie and keeping to the tradition of previous years I have bought a christmassy drink the very week these novelty cups hit the stores. This years' design is pretty disappointing, although the concept is pretty snazzy. The theme is 'Stories are gifts shared' Yeah, okay, it sounds disgustingly cutesy but I'm a sucker for these kinda things (most of the time!) It's also a pretty relevant theme for me seeing as I have just submitted my contribution to our church magazine for the christmas stories section.

Christmas is such an evocative stimulus for storytelling, everyone has one to share be it gloomy or jolly or dare I say cynical. Just this morning I was reading the chapter in Bittersweet where Shauna talks about Christmas and how it can be a hard time for so many people and their stories. I know there are many who have lost loved ones through death or divorce who will find this year particularly challenging. I, too, am wary of what this season will arouse in me. There will be the potential for wallowing in the old stories and willing them back into reality unsuccessfully, but I am also aware that this is a season for new memories and new stories. I am reminded of previous christmasses, one in particular, that was especially devastating and poignant, but I never lost my love for Christmas and more importantly I've never looked back. This year, of all years, is a time for looking forward to the cheer, to the warmth and to the love that is Christmas...

But not yet. After all, it's only November (tee-hee!)

A Question of Identity

I am not who I was four weeks ago. I have learnt so much. I feel like I know God better. It has been so refreshing to recapture the wonder and excitement I used to feel about knowing Jesus. I have loved visiting other churches so ridiculously different to my own and realising that the way I prefer to do church isn't the only way nor is it necessarily the best way. Without the community of a church I have had to rely on HIM and only HIM in times of need and consequently I recognise his voice - his whispers are clearer than ever.

Being away from it all has given me so much perspective on certain situations. I cringe at the person I was, the immaturity of my actions and words. I guess, in a sense, this is me apologising to the world for my former self, I sincerely hope that when you see me next you will find significant improvement. Who I am is evolving every second and every minute of every day. My worldly identity isn't fixed and this is why I will never truly understand who I am without God's help. It is through him that my identity and future becomes concrete.

It certainly helps being surrounded by people who have only known me at this stage of my life. They have experienced a more complete version of myself. They see the adult, not the child, they see the grief, not the friendship, they see my singleness without the smog of previous relationships, they see my independence not my dependence. They see me and my identity as it is now without the hazy mess of my past. They love me and accept me, they give me hugs, make me potato wedges and plait my hair, they listen to me whinge and vent, put up with my random bursts of italian and incessant singing. They do not judge. Even though my heart is so open and raw, they still do not judge. I always thought of myself as a self-assured young lady however in the last couple of weeks I have been forced to question my identity. Who am I? This question has lingered in my thinking space and caused multiple headaches but the solution is simple. Who I am to other people doesn't matter, who I am to myself is also insignificant. All I need to know is who I am in Christ.

A little message from the lovely Ellie which was posted under my door one morning. <3

P.S I've found a church. thanks for your prayers.