Sleep Evades

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Luckily tonight is unlike most others as no dwellings on the past/present/future have overcome me, it is a simple feeling of restlessness. After watching interview after interview it has become apparent that no amount of Fassbender-Mcavoy-Knightly or Hardy will bring about any deep rest, it is hopeless. But tonight is still a peaceful unease in which I crept down the stairs, hopping past the well known creaks. Edging through the kitchen door trying my hardest not to unsettle my furry friends and poured myself a bowl of Cinnamon Grahams. Then retraced my steps back to my fitful room and now I sit comfortably with the window ajar watching X-Men First Class wishing for sleep to wash over me.

3.04 am.

4.14 am.

Is this it?

The clicking of keys.

The shrill of the telephone. 

The tapping of a biro. 

The rolling of a chair. 

The sighs that fill the air minute after minute. 

Is this it?

Today, I feel miserable. Not in a "I'm going to bring you down with me" kind of miserable, more of an imaginary woodpecker tap tap tapping away at my head kind of thing. Each tap representing the same three words I ask myself every day. Is this it?

I work in a small office each day as I have done for the past four years of my life. Age group 18-22 has been spent with the same company. And while I have grown a lot as a person, I am still in no way closer to realising what I want to do with my life. I did not go to University like all of my friends did. Instead I took a job and bought a car and discovered my independence in my own way. I have saved more money than the majority of people my age will have saved in years to come and yet this still isn't enough. In no way do I take my job for granted. But I want more. I need more. I need to discover a life outside of the walls of the renovated barn that I have sat in for years that I know all the ins and outs of.

I know how to change the waste toner cartridge. I know where the blu tack is kept. If anyone has any strange requests they turn to me, who will 99.9% have it hidden deep in the back of my office drawers. Permanent markers? Check. Alan key? Check! (Please do not ask how I came to have an alan key in my drawer - I have no answers) I know where the special labels are kept. I know whether they go face up or face down on the printer. But I do not know where I am headed in life. Or where I should even begin.

Travelling is in my sights. At the moment it is the only thing I want. But no one else is in a position to go on the adventure with me. Do I go alone? Do I wait? SOMEBODY TELL ME. Because for some unknown reason, I can't seem to tell myself.

Is this it?

It's hard to explain...

Taken from Landline by Rainbow Rowell.

I find it hard to talk about "love". Talking about guys? Sure. Talk about love 'n' stuff in a very sarcastic clownish manner? Course! But explain how I feel about real love? Not so much. I just don't do it that well anymore, it's too bizarre of a topic for me to talk about it in a way that I can even understand, let alone make anyone else understand. But tonight something clinked in my head and to the keypad I go.

I've had experiences with love on polar opposite levels. I've had that real first time-for-everything kind of love, the one that is new and fun, the one where you can stay up talking until 5am on a school night and not even remember what the conversation was about but all you know was that it made your cheeks hurt, and you certainly don't mind being a zombie the next day in English Lit because of it. The one where everything is perfect until one day it's not. THEN I've had the one where you convince yourself that you love someone that is not right for you in any universe for whatever reason, and spend way too much time being unhappy about it until you cut that cord and get out. (Wouldn't recommend the second option.)

Although I find it hard to put my thoughts about love into any useful perspective for myself, I think I am "in love" with love. I adore how a simple small gesture can tell a person a hell of a lot more than the words "yeah, love you and that". This gesture doesn't have to be grand, or obvious, or boyfriend/girlfriend related. Whether it's your mother telling you she's recorded your favourite programme for you, or your close friend inviting you to something they know you would like. Sometimes it is just knowing that someone has thought about you. Thought, and done something to show it.

Basically what I mean is... I read a book today, and teared up. I watched a little video today, and teared up. Twice in one day. Both the premises of these two things were the big bad L word. And for just a little while, it brought me out of my Ice Queen hostility towards love and brought a bit of warmth back into it for me, and I'm thankful for it.

The video is here if you're bothered.

Rationality VS Guilt.

A couple of weeks ago I had a stranger come to the door of my house and asked to be let in. I was alone and I had no idea who this person was, and I let him in. I thought I should write about it.

I’m one of those horribly awkward people who slide off the sofa like a seal off a rock and hide whenever I see someone coming to the door. One humid afternoon whilst my parent’s were out "running errands" (what does that even mean please?) I was caught unaware by a small man with a briefcase at the window. The dogs immediately started howling and a surge of panic crept through my entire body. I stiffly made my way to the side door – I am no longer given access to the front door as I have lost more keys than I can count – and opened it. It went like this : 

“Hi…” (scared)

“Are your Mum and Dad in?”

“Erm no, they’re not.”

“They were expecting me.”

“Okay well sorry, but they’re not home yet” (starts closing door)

“Well am I coming in or no?”

This is when I began to recede into a slight frenzy. Had I been a normal social 22 year old I may have handled this situation completely differently, but after quickly assessing the man who stood before me, whilst he did not look like a complete and utter psychopath I did notice that he had with him a black briefcase. Bearing in mind I had been bulk watching Vampire Diaries and Prison Break I began to think a mixture of two things. 

1 – He is obviously a vampire and if I invite him into the house I will never be able to get him out.

2 – He definitely has an axe in that briefcase. 

Despite all of this irrational terror, I replied with…

 “Errr sure!” 

...and invited that stranger right in handed him a glass of water and we sat very awkwardly together on my sofa half watching Prison Break and half side eyeing him to see if I could spot any protruding fangs.

Why did I let this man in? Because I felt guilty. I felt an unbearable amount of guilt for making this man wait outside while I awkwardly tried to make a decision. Even though it is my house and I did not know him, I still felt guilty and let him in when he could very well have been 2014’s answer to Pat Bateman. I opened up my home to someone I did not know because ultimately, I was scared to say NO. I cant really fathom why I allowed my guilt to override my rational thought process but it was weird and I hope I learn from it and realise it is okay to say no. A rational thing to do would have been to say “Right let me just call them and check.” But no, I couldn’t even do that. Guilt is a funny thing huh?

-Just a sidenote, he actually turned out to be an old friend of my parent’s who is fitting the windows in our new house. But still, he COULD have been a murderer. Right?

Tonight on Salad Days.

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It is 1.33am. One dog is successfully occupying all of the desirable leg space on the bed whilst the other dog is snoring so loud it may be just enough to send a message home to ET. Now that you have stumbled onto this place - probably looking for delicious salad recipes -  I may as well let you in on the situation and what this space is for.

So tonight on Salad Days I introduce to you; me! I'm Lauren. Now I don't know about you but I seem to spend my time with a cloud of existential crisis looming over my head. When this happens I tend to do a number of things which include lying on the floor for hours, complaining to my Godfather about the changes I need to make in my life, he in turn attempts to give me advice and we both leave the conversation thinking the same thing - same time next week? I like many others dubbed 2014 as "my year" I had big plans for travelling and adventure and sticking it to the man but again like many others all my plans fell through and I ended up right back on that floor rolling around on the phone to my Goddad.

I operate in an uncoordinated back to front manner. One half of me is ready to leave everything behind and get out and do things I would never normally do whilst the other half is desperate to stay in cuddled up every night watching 80's movies wishing I could pull off those wildly unflattering swimsuits and rock the shit out of double denim. So this is my way of giving myself a push to actually leave the house and make the most out of the time I have to live on this earth and document the memories on here to look back on. Otherwise it would be a pretty mundane blog even if it is just me reading it!

I'm signing off now as I've had a film on whilst writing this up and have only just realised I've been watching it in French. Five salad dollars to whoever gets the Salad Days reference. Talk soon x