Monday, 19 December 2011
I've spent the majority of this year, well, the last six months of it, with my head stuck in the clouds and one hand on my passport. I choose not to remember the first five and a half months of the year, because they were, quite frankly, pants. So we'll conveniently skim over them, well apart from me finally getting to see Take That live. And oh my, was it worth the 18 years; wait.
I didn't lose my voice like I thought I would, but I was a bit croaky afterwards. I think I scared my friend, which is no mean feat because she doesn't scare easily. The sheer high pitched screech that escaped from somewhere in my throat when they launched into the dance routine for Pray, well, I wasn't aware I could make such a noise. But it really was a dream come true, no matter how sad you may think I am.
You see, when I was about 11 or 12, I was obsessed with Mark Owen, I was going to marry that dude. When I found out he was a bit of a love rat, I was quite shocked, let me tell you. It shattered all my illusions of little Marky, I was distraught - well, sort of. But anyway, wanting to be different and all that, I plastered my walls with posters, you couldn't stick a pin, literally. But because everyone did that, I went one further and plastered the ceiling with them too. It took me hours. I got vertigo from looking up for so long and nearly fell of the chair on more occasions that I could count. But I was proud of my work, at the time anyway. Thinking back now, it must have looked a right dog's dinner, especially considering I shared a room with my big sister at the time and her half, actually scrap that, her three quarters of the room (never right, I tell you) was all clean and sparkly. Anyway, I went downstairs, came back about an hour later. Disaster. I'd spent all day decorating my ceiling, only for the heating to come on and make all the posters fall down. They were hanging half off the roof, on the floor and covering my bed. It gave sleeping with Take That a whole new meaning. I was gutted. Needless to say, I stuck to just the walls from then on.
I still can't quite believe I shared airspace with all five of them. Yes, five.
Hmmm. If you believe that, you'll believe anything.
I had two near death experiences in Turkey this year, actually if you factor in the transfers, there were more than two, but anyway, the first was thanks to Mother Nature. Bloody hell that was one hell of a storm. When you're on the top bar one floor of a high apartment building, watching a rather violent and very black storm cloud sweep from inland, out to sea, passing over your head in the process, eeek. I think the rather dense guy on a jetski in the middle of this storm also thought 'eeek', or at least that may have been the family friendly version, when a bolt of lightening quite literally chased him and missed him by inches. I shrieked again. I shrieked several times. Loudly. I think I may even have suggested we find a basement to hide in. Seriously, I'd be crap in a real emergency.
The second near death experience was the run away taxi ride I endured through Armutalan to Malibu Beach in October. Good lord, I'm surprised we didn't end up through the windscreen. A bloke on a bike nearly ended up skittled, a load of tourists nearly ended up on the bonnet and my hair looked like it'd been a wind tunnel. Trauma.
But I survived, so that's all that matters I guess.
So after going home in June, my friend went all spontaneous, totally out of character for her, bless, and we ended up booking to go back in two weeks, planning to spend my 29th birthday in the sun. So really the second trip wasn't my fault at all - yes, I know, shocking. Of course I had to bat off all manner of assumptions that our reason for going back was due to a man. Of course it wasn't!
Oh okay, it was, a bit.
Or a lot.
So for the first time in my life, I spent my birthday away from home and in the sun. It was fab. I spent the day with my buddy on the beach, I scoffed a rather lovely chicken kebab for dinner with the obligatory Efes, for hydration purposes of course, and I spent a bit of the day with the boy. Lovely. My evening was even better, a surprise, very chocolatey (yum) birthday cake courtesty of the boy (wow) and many, many cocktails. I'd quite like to spend every one of my birthdays from now on away from home in the sunshine, especially the next one, there's no way I can handle being 29+1 whilst pottering around in a pathetic excuse for an English summer. No way.
I had a lovely birthday present from the boy actually, a cute little bracelet that's hung on my jewellery plaque in my bedroom. For some strange reason it catches my eye every day and makes me think of him, not that I need a reminder, he's already in my head most of the time anyway. I keep telling myself I'll get over it one day .....
Anyway, it didn't really end well after all the good stuff, and we didn't speak for a few months afterwards. I swore blind I wouldn't go back, I meant it, of course .... alright, I didn't mean a word of it, I think I was going back all along. But I was brave, I went alone. And you know what, I'm proud of me for that, because I think heading off to Manchester airport and getting on a plane to Dalaman, finding my transfer all alone and checking into my apartment all alone, is the bravest thing I've done in my life so far. And you know what, it was fab. Freedom is pretty wonderful really.
Anyway, I won't go into details of that holiday again, I'm sure you're sick of hearing about it, I'm sick of thinking about it, okay I'm not, but there's only so many times you can re-hash the story of how you actually had a wonderful time with someone you realised you actually loved (and still bloody well do, grrr), but then you went home and he went weird, now you're a bit broken hearted but hey, you'll get over it, before everyone rolls their eyes for the millionth time and yawns. But it was great whilst it lasted.
In the middle of all this emotional trauma, I did find my new hobby, the one I'm indulging in now. Writing. It was because I was angry and stressing out after a rather irritating phone call from the boy back in August, that made me start typing, and before you knew it, a blog was born. I kinda love it. And I'm writing a book, yes, me, writing a book! I don't know if it's any good, I don't know if anyone will actually get to read it, but it's bloody good fun writing it, and it's getting me through the dark, grim winter days where daylight never seems to burn through the darkness. Is it me, or do we literally go to work in darkness and come home in darkness? I sit behind a tinted window at work as well, so I actually never really see daylight. It's no wonder I'm borderline SAD.
So this year I've met some wonderful people, so lovely people and some pretty crap people. I will remember them all, for many different reasons of course. The wonderful people and the lovely people, I hope I stay in touch with them, the crap people can jog on. But the crap people taught me that even paradise has it's dark side, and I'll be more wary next time. So y'know, thanks I guess.
I think overall this year has taught me some lessons, some hard, some nice, but lessons all the same. It's made me stronger. I never thought I'd be sat feeling quite so pragmatic about the boy and what is or isn't happening there. Maybe I'm in denial. Actually y'know, I think I might be. I keep thinking my phone's going to ring or something and I'm clearly deluded because on the rare occasions it rang with him on the other end, it only ever rang for about three seconds, meaning that I had to call back and foot the bill. Lovely. But if you don't have hope, what do you have? Yeah, I'm in denial.
Anyway, as I'm probably now going to head into a stupour or chocolates, mince pies, alcohol and far too much food in general - Happy Christmas everyone. I hope you all get your Christmas wishes, and I hope I get mine, although I don't think it's likely, the UK Border Agency aren't that leniant, but I'll settle for my wish plan B please Santa.
So in the words of the scary bloke from Slade that looks like Santa on crack - iiiiiitttt'ssss Chhhrrrriiissssstttmmmaaaaaaassssssssssssssss!!