A Curious Girl: I said nothing

My head is full of thoughts.

I want to write a murder mystery. And after my three-day trip to Stratford-upon-Avon, I want to write a play. (Although the play very probably won't be a murder mystery) I've already decided that the background is going to be reminiscent of Salvador Dali. Which is amusing, as I don't really do art. So it'll just have to go into the description for the first scene: The garden is full of curios, surreal in the manner of the paintings of Salvador Dali. Ah, surrealism. It does its job much more convincingly than realism does.

I feel disturbed. I am blaming Hamlet for this, but in truth I would not be feeling this way if it were only that play, especially as I enjoyed it so much when I was watching it. Twelfth Night was hilarious. King John was also amusing.

I'm not sure why I'm feeling - what am I feeling? Sad? Lonely? Inadequate? Wretched? Maybe. I was already feeling bad after visiting Sussex University - do you ever have that uncanny feeling that something isn't right? I put it down to masochism as I reconsidered it foggily, wrapped in my bedclothes that night and afraid of the thunder and lightning going on outside. Hate thunderstorms unless they're miles away - this one seemed to be having a party right outside my window. Hate loud noises, especially apparently pointless ones. I loved Sussex University, and Brighton was a gorgeous place. Now I search the prospectus I find mention of the chaplaincy, but my inability to find it made me uncomfortable. And now I read in the Big Issue (buy it, it's only a quid and very interesting) that Brighton are operating a 'closed borders' policy for homeless people, giving rough sleepers tickets out of town, as they can't cope with all the homeless people and say that 'Access via the council social housing, accommodation or service funded by the council or the Rough Sleepers Unit will be restricted to those with a local connection.' It is utterly stupid.

You can see that I don't like Brighton very much anymore. It is still a beautiful city, but reading that article has helped - I've been feeling mixed up about the whole thing, whether I could possibly give up the idea of Sussex and try somewhere else if my 'feeling' turned out to have some kind of logical reason, but it would be easier after that. Plus, they can't spell. Police chef! :-) Or maybe that was just me, being insane as usual. Incidentally, Bath, another University I plan to visit, may also implement this fascistic scheme.

And the other thing is the Stratford trip. Don't get me wrong, the trip was great - two lectures, a drama workshops and the PLAYS!!! Shakespeare is Stratford's Disney. And my fears about being left out were not realised - Jolene didn't have anyone to share a room with either, so we shared, with Alisha, a newly-qualified Canadian teacher. By her accent I wasn't sure if she was American or Canadian - she turned out to be an Ontarian, and I was glad I didn't make any stupid remarks about life in America. But I felt strangely sensitive to the evils of our society - perhaps it was the Wednesday night, when Jolene, Alisha and I found ourselves discussing education and prejudice. Perhaps it was the magazines proclaiming 7 types of orgasm and horny horoscopes. Perhaps it was my Big Issue that told of racism, McDonald's powerful advertising using some very clever classical conditioning (by contrast, I had a Happy Meal and Smarties McFlurry whilst I was there), and of course that fascistic anti-homeless scheme. And I guess I felt powerless to stop them. And Jolene asked me my star-sign - I told her, and along with it told her how stupid I think horoscopes are. She said that she found them comforting even if she didn't believe them. I sat there with my Bible (told her what it was when she mistook it for a Maths book. I don't do maths, thankfully.) And I made some silly remark about being a cat in a former life, explained that I didn't belive in former lives either, but she didn't ask any more. I wasn't sure what to say - curse my stupid shyness. I remembered ABC's testimony. I wonder if I could share it with someone? Would you mind ABC? I guess she wouldn't :-) she's always glorifying God with lots of testimonies from all kind of people. But I didn't say anything. I said nothing. I just left it, even though I wanted to tell her about what I believe about God - a God that doesn't need horoscopes or multiple lives to get through to us. I didn't say anything. I'm happy to be a fool for Christ, but instead I was just a fool.

I identified with Hamlet. I also feel bad because I made fun of Mrs. Tester and that was wrong. I did it partly because in two years of GCSE English I wrote one story for her and no poems. It was frustrating. She thought I was wonderful, and yet I felt she never got to see me in my favourite part of English. And that's why I didn't treat her with great respect, even though she is a good teacher.

And when I got back, the internet was down. Realised it was a good thing - typed up a prayer. A first, for me, but good as I can type pretty quickly and I wanted to think about what I was saying. God feels kind of far away, but I know we'll meet properly again. I've felt a bit like this before. It just bites, that's all.

PS. I looked at the end of 2 Peter completely by 'accident', and it was comforting. Thank you God :-)

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