I've decided that I'm not going to edit the things I post here. Not at all. If that means it doesn't always make sense, or that my writing is not at it's best, then I'm sorry, I guess. It's free-ing, though, to know that I don't have to reread and double check. I've spent so long not blogging- not saying anything- because I want to get it right. It feels nice not to have to care. Plus, I like the thought that my words are real and unedited. Rough, and raw. Honest.
Today I went to a march protesting the bombing in Syria. There are lots of reasons to not bomb Syria, and very few reasons to actually do it. Which, of course, means that government will, because the government likes doing things there are few reasons to actually do. Tomorrow, I will go into my Law lesson, where world news is a banned topic. That's my fault, but I would like to blame cancer. Last Thursday, it looked like what happened was that I got annoyed at someone for disagreeing with me over the issue of bombing Syria, and didn't allow them to have a view. I got too passionate about it. That's what it looked like. Last Wednesday, my uncle died, a bit after 10am. A bit after 10pm, it was announced that the bombing of Syria would go ahead. All I could think about was how cancer is killing enough people, and how our lives have all fallen apart. The thought of government willingly choosing to kill more people, and to completely destroy many, many lives was what kept me up and stopped me from feeling hungry the next day. I know they're not the same thing. I know cancer and bombing is very very different. I know to compare them is probably very insensitive. But that's how it worked in my head, when we were hurting in a close way because of cancer and death, and a far away way because of bombs and more death. So, it was my fault that we are not allowed to talk about world news in Law. I know it is my fault, and I know I was wrong, and I am really sorry if I infringed on that person's freedom of opinion, and even sorrier if I upset them; I am also sorry that I got world news banned as a topic of discussion. But, in my mind at least, it is also cancer's fault, or so I think. I'm not sure whether that would stand up in court, but I would like to put it on trial. I have just broken my own rules; that last sentence was an edit- I am all the way at the end of paragraph four now.
I get told that a lot, that I am too passionate. I hate myself for it a lot. It's really hard to care so much. It's really hard to cry for everyone, and to feel everything so much. It's harder than you would think to take a stand, and to not be neutral, and to actually try and make a difference. That's why I am not doing as much as I could be, because I am tired of being the person that everyone is tired of. Bear's Den- who I think are one of two of the best bands of all time, according to me- have a line in one of their songs that says 'don't let your mind speak louder than your heart'. It is my heart that tells me to be angry, and to protest, and to care; it is my mind that cares what other people think. I'm trying not to let my mind speak louder than my heart. Maybe I'll get that tattooed one day. Until then, I'm going to write it all over my body every time I need reminding.
Another update from my life is that I laughed a lot yesterday, and today I wore glitter. I feel guilty for doing both of those, but the rational (read: less affected by emotional grief) parts of my mind are telling me I'm doing the right thing. Laughter and glitter are like holding my middle finger up to the world. Like saying, yes, world, you are tough and things are tough; but look at me, I am tougher, and I am not broken. It helps that the people in my life at the moment are so wonderful. I'm making lists of things to be happy for, and people is something that comes up a lot, in lots of different ways. Yesterday we went to the Christmas market, and I bought roast chestnuts, because roast chestnuts remind me of Christmas when I was little. Then we made pizza at Freedom, but maybe 'made' is an over-exaggeration, because everything went wrong. However, we spent lots and lots of time laughing and joking, and that is what counts (plus the pizza did actually taste okay, or at least, we thought so). People are what counts.
I guess it's time to go now, because tomorrow is a busy busy day, and I am rather behind on sleep. The funeral is next week, and I am trying to slow down time. I want to go to Brighton, and I want to go to the funeral, but I do not want to go to Brighton to go to the funeral. Does that make sense? Also, I do not want to go to the funeral next week. I want to go to the funeral in forty-five years time; maybe a bit longer than that. I want to go to the funeral of my uncle Matthew who died of old age. Not this. No one wants this.
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