Inspired by that instagram thing, #throwback Thursday. Don’t worry there will be no photos. That’s a punishment none of us deserve. I changed the name to Flashback cause I’m a writer, darling, but its essentially the same thing just embarrassing yourself with words rather than hair.
There have definitely been different phases in my writing, trends, fashions, and many of them like balloon skirts (remember them??) are probably only good for humiliating your future children with.
I’m not twelve anymore – adults can skip and hop 😛 – and while in some ways I think my voice, much like my personality was probably set, if not honed, at a pretty young age, I can’t quite imagine that I would be running a blog with a to do list including a dissertation on Joyce and the division of form and content. I like to think I’d still defend adverbs. But I’m not sure I’d have the time inbetween all the heart wrenching poetry and tear stained diary entries.
There is a common lament in Scotland that the reason football fairs so poor (tho perhaps why we do so well in darts and snooker) is that most boys turn fifteen and discover beer. And sometimes girls. But really mostly beer. (This is why the birth rate is falling ..) I hit sixteen and my ability to write stories seemed to vanish overnight. Beer had nothing to do with it. The boys drinking it, may have. I never laid my pen down though. And I thought it would be fun if I shared a little piece of something I wrote way back when on a Thursday..
This was when I was 21, not long broken up with my first love and my best friend had essentially abandoned me.. These were dark days. Newly graduated and very unemployed, I was living on hungry joes, rationing my cigarettes and Fern and Phil were pretty much the highlight.. Then came a party and I had to face them both…
*names have been changed out of deep shame, tho now I’ve done it, I really wish these were their real names..
I wonder who will turn up to the party. Struan of course. Hamish I suppose. I know Murray won’t be there. Erin said she would be. Lindsey is away, so is Andrew. Morag is going home, Angus might show. Alex and Lachlan more than likely and Mhari and Ewan. Either way it’s going to be weird. I want to sail in there and be above it all. Be above her. Yet I will probably just feel awkward and weird.
The thing about the end of Agnes and me is that I have to give up so many others as a result. Murray and Lachlan and Andrew, but really the only two I ever cared about was Fergus and Struan. It’s a package deal. Want to see Fergus you gotta take Agnes as well. Hell, you have to get through her. And I guess in the end my only real tie to Struan was through him. So I lose the only boy I ever thought I might love.
We were never going to be anyway, me and Struan. I know this, its just sometimes hard to believe it. My heart has a life of its own. I resent that our final parting has been brought about by Agnes.
Life has shifted beneath my feet. I am unsure where this leaves me. In the end no matter what I always seem to be stuck in the same place. Right now, right here, nothing changes for me. The faces of friends may, but I don’t. I haven’t moved anywhere, the scenery is different, that’s all. Still alone, still afraid, still full of big dreams that will never come true. This place isn’t where I want to be at all. For someone who never moves I am still very uneasy where I am.
So I won’t sail into what is rapidly becoming my past and stun them all with my poise and beauty. I will end this as I began, frumpy and defensive, unsure of who I am and what I am worth. Maybe it is for the best. I have long been told by those who really know what she is like that I am better off without her. And as for Struan, a boy who broke my heart for no good reason, isn’t worth holding onto. I don’t feel like I really know him anymore. Its been so long since I last saw him, its like I am holding onto a dream. I live with enough dreams I want love to be real.
Supergirl returns! That’s what Erin once said to me. I have to believe that I will go on to bigger and better things and those who would doubt me aren’t worth bothering about. So I will say goodbye now and next time I see them I will play the same old part and they won’t know I have already passed them by.
😀 Oh and in case you were wondering what my big dreams were, I wasn’t published yet. This troubled me enormously at 21. Can you imagine what its like at 31.. and some months… ehem… I’m starting to regret this already..
Anyone else brave (daft) enough to share? What would the old you have been blogging about?