02/04/2010

I went out to town today to have lunch and read a book at Costa Coffee. My mum had given me an Easter present in the form of money for a meal out. The previous night I was really stressed and I couldn’t stop thinking about things; life, relationships e.t.c so I had gone to bed with a headache. I have also been experiencing the worst PMS episode ever. It came with terrible and I mean crippling breast pain. I considered going to the GP because I was getting scared but then I got advice from Bupa and NHS online that says this is normal for most women during this time, and that in fact stress makes it worse. Well, it seems I’m in a bottomless pit here. The only way to get out is to wait for the period to be over and try to control my stress levels.

Anyway.

So today, determined to feel good I got out of the house and got the bus. I normally get a discount because I have a student’s card but today I was told, counts as a bank holiday and students have to pay the normal fee. I had £40 in my purse. Having no more than the £1 coin I had expected to use, I whipped out a crisp £10 note and handed it to the driver. This driver by the way was an hour late! Yes, an hour late, operating on the Sunday timetable. That means, there was no bus to town for two hours. I stood freezing and mildly rained on at the bus stop for 40 minutes waiting for the bus. Right, with the £10 handed, the driver said he had no change so he gave me a ticket voucher  and a few coins. I grasped the voucher and the coins in my hand, looked at it for a few seconds. I was confused because I could see it seemed less than what I was expecting to get. He thought I’d never seen these credit vouchers, so he started explaining to me what they were. I told him I knew that. I went to sit down, so that I could count properly. I checked what was supposed to be given back to me on the calculator in my phone and turned it out I was right. He gave me less change. I decided to wait for a stop where someone was getting off to ask him about this.

I did. He denied giving me less change. He said he was pretty sure I gave him £5. He insisted. I tried to be calm about it, but I couldn’t so I started raising my voice. He kept saying that wasn’t true. I asked him why did he think that I would lie? Afterall I agreed to pay the huge ‘normal people’ fare. He kept denying it. At this time I was so furious so I turned to everyone on the bus and asked,

“Did anyone see me give him £10?,” they looked at me as if I was speaking in tongues. A woman at the front said she couldn’t know because she just got in after me. The rest kept quiet. I sighed turned to the driver and continued.

“You are not getting away with this. I gave you ten pounds.”

“Well, you have to wait until I clock off at the end of my shift and if I turn up with an extra five-pound note, then you will get it back”

“So, what do I do before then, do I just wait? I want to speak to headquarters and report about this.” I finished.

He told me to sit down and wait for us to get to the end of the route, where he promised we would discuss it. At the end of the route, I waited for everyone to get off and then went to him. He got a complaint form out and filled in my details and my contact number. I was so pissed at this point I was practically shouting at him. Afterwards he said he would leave this at the office and if an extra five pounds turns up then they would know its mine and call me and I would get it back. I said how could I be sure this would happen. He said to call the customer service number on the timetable outside the bus and tell them  about the incidence and that he took my details. I got out of the bus, promptly took the number on the timetable and called. The main countrywide office was open but the regional one was closed. I decided to save this number. I’m going to try calling tomorrow because I see they open on Saturdays, if not then it has to be Tuesday. I walked down to the high street and I couldn’t help it but start crying. I was so overwhelmed, so I decided to sit down on one of the town centre benches to catch my breath. Here I was, trying to feel good and then this. What a downer on my moods. I also started saving £10 a week since last month, so this has set me back. Why is it that I want to do something to change my life, or really to just change a single day in my life and something like this has to happen? What exactly did I do wrong? You would expect, it being Good Friday and all that goodwill would fall upon all mankind, no matter how undeserving, being that Jesus died today to save all men e.t.c. Or do I have to wait for the resurrection day on Easter Sunday for things to be extra fine for me?

I did learn something about myself today though: I’m very feisty. I’m sure those people on the bus didn’t expect a little looking girl like me to kick up such a fuss. I think that’s my strong point. And I promise you, if he hadn’t been so civilised as to tell me to wait to get to the end of the route to take my details I would’ve thrown a bloody tantrum and wrecked havoc in that fucking bus. I will not take bullshit from anyone, especially since I put with so much crap in my personal life. So, instead of a meal out, I went for a hot chocolate at Costa, tried to read, I couldn’t. I was just feeling awful. After the hot chocolate,  I went to get some ingredients for pancakes and a bottle of vodka, which I’m downing right now as I type this. What a lovely day that was, eh?

Despite all the nastiness I get in my life, I always try to find something good,even if it’s really insignificant, so today the highlight of this crappy day was the skin head I saw while waiting for the bus. He looked like he was fresh out of This Is England. He had a clean-shaven head, red combat-like boots, jeans rolled up to the near the knees, and red suspender like belts hanging from his waist. He bought a  sandwich from a shop, got out and started eating it while throwing out the tomatoes on the road. he didn’t have a care in the world and looked like he could do some mean things to someone but then juxtaposed with this is the fact that he also looked so handsome and harmless. I couldn’t stop looking at him. I could see beneath the tough guy surface that this guy had the potential to be really nice. I concluded that he must be rather ignorant and set in his ways. I thought if maybe he hanged out with a  different crowd and probably went to university e.t.c, he would now be cruising right past me in his expensive car while I stood there waiting for the bus. I smiled.

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05/03/2010

I’ve been very busy in the past few  two days working on my project. I needed this to keep myself from thinking about how much I’m going to miss Fish come April. We talked yesterday and I felt at ease because it didn’t feel like it was the end after all. He’s taught me the importance of being a perfectionist. Of wanting the best. I’m going to strive for that. My uni work seems to be going well if not a tad bit slow. I don’t know what it is with people in my university but no one seems to want to help. They are cocooned in their little cliques and if they don’t know you, they just won’t help. It’s unbelievable how frustrating this is, especially for a course like mine where working on a practical project, no matter how suited to an individual it is, one needs to have a little help here and there. I’ve just had about enough of it and I can’t wait to graduate. I have my fingers crossed that anyone I approach for help, will at least do so. I need a good grade because I really, in the literal sense can not afford to fail. I just need a degree to able to even at best hope for a different life from what I have right now.

Which brings me to something else: money. I’ve come to that point in my life where when I hear anyone say that money can not buy you happiness I get this sudden animalistic urge to smack them. That is a lie. Money can buy you happiness, fuck what you heard. I’m living proof. If you have money, you buy things that you love, you go to places you love. Subsequently, if you love something  that means it makes you happy. You a re happy. It’s as simple as that and I don’t want anyone telling me otherwise. In fact I’m starting to believe it’s only rich people who say this to poor people to keep them in their place. I will not be one of those poor people. I don’t want to be obscenely rich. I just want a decent life. Ugh. I hate being poor. Right now for instance I’m contemplating if I’ll have enough money to buy materials for my project. It’s ludicrous. There are bills coming my way in about two weeks. I have food to think of. This is not the kind of life anyone should be living and I don’t believe that anyone can be happy in my situation, I don’t care what explanations they give.

So, I’m going to bed hoping to wake up very early tomorrow so I can bury myself in work to prevent me from thinking about my life or money for that matter. My fridge is empty  and I’m not even sure I’m going to have a single proper meal tomorrow. My bank account, well I have £0.33 in balance.