Cleansing

Had another attack of packing and clearing out on Sunday. All the books from upstairs are packed and I think we're up to 25 boxes now. Just the downstairs books to pack, although that does include Pratchett who'll probably fill three boxes on his own! (I don't mean Mr Pratchett himself by the way).

We also managed to fill three bin bags with rubbish, four if you include the bag containing my wedding dress...

Yup, you read that right. It's a fabulous dress and I adore it, but it'll always be my wedding dress. I'm not binning it before you scream in dismay, it'll be going into the clothing bank at Waitrose. I figured that I could have taken the time to list it on eBay, but I just want it gone with no hassle. It's sharing its bag space with my velvet cloak, and a long velvet dress that I don't think has ever fitted me and would probably only look good on a stick.

I also threw all my wedding photos out. I've still got copies of them stashed on my Yahoo webspace, but I don't want/need paper copies so they've gone too.

It was very cleansing, but also rather scary. I did burst into tears at one point after looking at the wedding photos, but it was because I couldn't actually believe I was ever that girl rather than from regrets. (Which Anthony was very pleased to hear through the sobs).

Last year I kept a sort of diary for a few months. It was basically a list of all the things that had made me feel good that day. It's very cool to look back on it and remember how I was finding myself those first few months. To remember the nights out with Campbelli and Katie, Phil getting rubber bands stuck on his head, and RichieFingers stabbing himself in the head with a stanley knife when answering the phone.

Moving house is just the next step in moving away from the person I was when I was with the Yeti, and the next step into a future of happiness and sunshine.

Update: Silly silly me. I mentioned getting rid of my wedding dress to my mother and promptly got a 15 minute guilt trip. So it will be getting sold on eBay after all. I love my mother dearly, but sometimes I wish she understood me.

"The Past Is The Future, With Lights On"

(title pinched from Emily's current MSN Messenger note, dunno where she got it from)

I joined Facebook the other day. Mainly cos certain people kept raving about it, and partly cos I was bored. It's alright. Highly addictive at present as many new and exciting things are to me.

I've got all the usual suspects from work as friends on there and thought I'd do a bit of browsing around to see who else I could spot. I found my uncle and aunt which surprised me, and a few old friends from school but not as many as I thought I would.

One in particular that I found is a girl I met when she started at my school in the 6th form. I remember her mainly because she did what she wanted. She wore what she liked, listened to the music she wanted to and basically didn't take any shit from anyone.

For little me, just starting to emerge from the cocoon I'd stuck myself in to hide from the bullies - she was amazing. I can remember envying her confidence and abilities, but never ever disliking her. She was just who she was, no pretence in order to please anyone, just herself. She helped me grow a lot that first year and most of my memories of that year have her firmly in the heart of things.

Going into London to meet her and go to Covent Garden - not a big thing for that London-bred lass, but quite a big adventure for me compared to the life I'd been leading.
Her coming to the station to see us all off on our Biology field trip and singing The Beatles in the common room while the "in-crowd" argued over what was cool enough to play in there.
The reaction of one of the "in-crowd" girls when she turned up for the 6th form photo wearing a stunning vintage green dress. Apparently she was going to ruin the picture and stick out like a sore thumb - the first thing you see when you look at it is the in-girl's Union Jack top and her fake bleached smile. The vintage dress however, looks beautiful.
Walking round and round Witham in the middle of the night with me the week after Jamie died. She knew exactly what to say to comfort me, but wouldn't bullshit me that everything would soon be ok, she knew it would be tough but told me I'd get through it.

We drifted apart a long way during the second year of 6th form. We no longer had Chemistry lessons together, although that wouldn't have mattered as Chemistry was the main lesson I'd miss - I'd be hiding away in the computer room, swigging my Fanta laced vodka. When I did start coming back to myself, 6 or 7 months later, she was one of the first to pull me back into the crowd, to treat my life as normal again.

Seeing her face on there made me think about how many things I'm proud to admit that I enjoy now that she has influenced me on, even though it's 10 years since we've even spoken I think.

My life is going in cycles, this is one reason for the labyrinth tattoo. My life loops around and back on itself and things from the past come round again in the future. Last year was a time of growth for me in many ways, as 1996 was the lovely summer when I felt like I had the world at my feet.

I'm grateful for my friends, they teach me so much even when I am far from them in space and time. Whether this Facebook thing means I rekindle old friendships or not, it's good to know that these people are still there, doing their things and lighting up other peoples lives.