Acceptance is the hardest part of love.

              I can’t seem to exactly pin down when it was that my Grandma started to become ill. Her dementia took over her very gradually to begin with and then it was almost as if over night she just changed. For a little while she knew she was losing her memory. That was the heartbreaking part. Walking into the kitchen and noticing that she had marked the calendar with what she had done each day just in case someone was coming round so she could check. I don’t know how long I think she was aware of her illness as this was about the time I started to deny that she was ill. I want to say it wasn’t very long but I think that is more a hope than a reality. At least now she has no idea what is happening to her and that is surprisingly, such a blessing.

            My Grandad is a brilliant man. In fact, what upsets me more than the fact that my Grandma is dying, is watching my Grandad having to watch the women he loves fade away.  He does everything for her but I don’t even want to contemplate what this is doing to him. Everyone helps him out as much as they can but I believe he feels like it’s his responsibility. For us it is hard but in a way it’s accepted that those older than you will eventually pass away. But for him it’s not like that. I feel lucky that I have never particularly experienced a death where as I have friends who don’t have any grandparents. I dread the day when she longer knows who he is.

            These days she still recognises people but doesn’t exactly know who they are. My whole family have accepted that she is now at a point that it is just easiest to agree with her than correct her. Sometimes we can’t help giggling as she tries to tell us stories. It sounds cruel to laugh about it but when she tries to tell you about the time she went to the moon, she meant she went past it in a plane, you can’t help it. Sometimes you have to just have to laugh to take away the reality. All she knows is that she loves you and you’re very good.

            I have recently realized that, although my Grandma will always be my Grandma and I love her more than anything, a part of me has already mourned the loss of who she used to be. The women she is now is the most happy, loving person I have ever met and a big part of me feels that when she does pass it will feel more like I have lost a brilliant part of my life rather than my Grandma. Although it sounds horrible I hope that is how it is, so that I can be there for my Grandad instead. That’s far more important. I believe when it comes to something like this acceptance is the key help yourself and others around you. However until that time I will cherish every moment I can with my Grandma. She is an amazing woman and if I can be half the person she was, is and will be then I will be happy.

Actually that rabbit hole doesn’t seem so weird…

It’s been almost two weeks since I returned to London after my Christmas break and it’s like I never left, it’s just been frozen waiting for me to come back. It doesn’t feel like I was ever home and in a strange way it’s like home is just something I keep in my mind that is safe, almost like it doesn’t really exist. One of the biggest parts of who I am is my grip on reality. I don’t let myself go because I don’t like feeling that I’m loosing control and I need this constant feeling of safety. Just knowing that no matter what, you will be okay in that safe place where you feel untouchable.  Its one of the reasons you will probably never see me drunk. I do drink and will get drunk, but only if I feel comfortable. On a night out I will be the sober one making sure everyone is okay and we get home safe. It’s just my nature. But now I’m facing this delirious clash of worlds and all of a sudden reality is taking a right beating.

            I’ve turned into an insomniac the past few days as my mind will just not shut off despite the amount of exercise or lack of energy. One reason is because a big part of my ‘brick walls’ is starting to crumble and I can’t handle that! I don’t let people into my little world never mind after the traumas of last year. Oh a note on the whole; ‘New Year, New Start’ crap… Well someone had to see what the downside was! Anyway, my last few nights have been terrorised by my mind playing games on me- you know the ones where you think of something you would love to happen knowing it never will.

            This made me think of Alice in Wonderland. My favourite Disney film and I book I still love today. The story is constantly being rekindled and churned to attract a passion from every generation since Carroll first put pen to paper. In recent light I think I’ve began to understand it that little bit more. It’s not just a story about a girl and her dreams; it’s a story about the world we live in and the worlds we create for ourselves. We are all Alice’s in our own stories. We all know the Cheshire Cats and Caterpillars who guide us yet make us question our decisions and who we are. There’s always a White Rabbit, those people who show us our path just enough that we know where we are going but we don’t have to get there quite yet. As for those people who are always there doing our dirty work that we don’t even consider a necessity, the things we take for granted, well their Bill the Lizards. We have Mad Hatters and March Hares who keep us sane by making us feel insane. And of course we all have those Queen of Hearts; the ones who push us and make us see who we are by forcing us to fight for what we want and what we believe in. Pushing our boundaries to release the truth that lies within. Though personally, I’m still waiting the family of horns that look like ducks but hey you can’t have everything.

            So with the line between what is real and what we want to be real completely smudged, what the hell is my next step? I don’t want to let my guard down with anything at the moment so logically, do I start extending my wall around those things and rather letting myself go, let things come in? The first issue of that is the fact that I like my little world and I swear any mugs rings left on my coffee table and I won’t be a happy bunny! I need to not care but unfortunately I’m not a character skipping through pages I’m a person and I don’t just feel like taking my coat off so everyone can see my heart which I wear on my sleeve. ‘A dream is a wish your heart makes’ well I’m sorry heart but I don’t think Ryan Reynolds will ever want to spoon during episodes of 90210. You see in today’s world dreaming is lovely and all, but is it ever really worth the risk? I tell you what, hop over my walls, take a look around and answer me this, would you rather stay in here or do you want to help me take this wall down brick by brick? But just so you know; if it all goes wrong you better be there to help me build it again. Along with all my White Rabbits, Cheshire Cats and characters in my story that have already shown me how to survive in a world that’s just not quite there.

Since when was THAT sociably acceptable?!

            So it is New Years Eve and I can’t proudly say I don’t care. Though I guess I’ve never cared about it. When your birthdays the second of January that is certainly more exciting! After the year I’ve had I don’t see what there is to celebrate… There’s the whole ‘fresh start’ thing but I don’t want to start that hung over and freezing my ass off! On a high note Christmas holidays are almost over and I go back to London in a week. What a bizarre holiday it has been… Oh if only I could tell you but I can’t mention names!

            Returning home for three weeks after being so settled in London has been a bit of a mind flay as it is never mind having to face people and situations that you’ve hidden from for three months. Not that I’ve bothered to face any of them… Seemed the easiest option! It has been great to let my hair down and relax for the first time in a long time though to say it has been eventful is an understatement. Although I’ve never been so grateful to have certain friends back full time in my life! These weeks definitely haven’t been as bad as I first imagined so I guess that’s a major bonus. I guess I expected it to be more painful than it was but I have a funny feeling that was numbed out by the great spite and excitement about everyone. Things are looking very good ready to go back to London though, I will say that!! But until then I’m attempting to survive at home, harder than you think.

            I honestly believe I am the worst ‘single’ person imaginable. I don’t want to go out and meet random people who I don’t know and do things I’ll regret in the morning. Also I just seem to repel men. Not intentionally! For example I could go out in my underwear and still not get any attention. I’m more of an organised person when it comes to things like that. Not spontaneous in the slightest. Well, except the other night when I randomly walked over to two of my oldest friends and kissed them both straight on the lips. Then I decided that I’m definitely not a spontaneous person.

            The other issue that I’m currently facing? What is the world coming to?! Now I accept that I was in a long relationship and obviously will have missed out on certain trends but really?! It all started the week I came home from Greenwich sat having lunch with two of my friends. The stuff they were discussing was like something out of some bad internet movie or Urban Dictionary. Now I know I’m not a nun and we all know about my love for erotica but no, just no! I’m definitely not attempted to go out on the pull as I fear for my own life… Oh and while I’m at it why can’t men be manly?! I don’t mean personality I mean generally! I LIKE HAIRY MEN. There I’ve said it. Oh this has been a strange two weeks!

            Anyway, I’m going to write again at some point next week so I apologise that this is pretty naff! Plus I’m running late to go out! Promise I will fill you in with the rest! Happy New Year! Hope its better than mine- well we all know I won’t be pulling at midnight!

I Know I would have been Lauren…

After 2 long years my wonderful partner decided that moving to London was something he could never do and rather than resent me for it or attempt long distance, he decided we should call it quits. To begin with my world fell apart. Admittedly we had already broken up in February so I knew how to deal with it but that didn’t mean I wasn’t hurt. It was unexpected and had been quite cruel so I decided to take some days back home to gather my thoughts.

            Due to the snow my train had been cancelled however we were allowed to board an earlier train which I didn’t care as long as I got home. At the platform I met another girl who was in the same situation, we boarded the train together and even managed to get seats together. Made sense as we were both getting off at the same stop too… We watched ‘Sex and the city 2’ and once that was over started talking. It turns out that’s she lives in London, not just London, but a 10 minute walk from my flat. She goes to my gym, does all the classes I do and even dances, but wait, she was returning home to see her family because her boyfriend of two and a half years had broken up with her on the Monday (my relationship had ended on the Sunday). I have always believed in fate but this was unreal. Just being able to speak to someone who knew how I felt was therapy! Her name is Claire and we are going to meet up after Christmas.

            Being home I began to realise that although I loved him it never would have worked. He never would have moved and I would have done my degree, moved back home and sacrificed my dreams. It was better that it had happened now rather than in a few months when he had moved. That would have killed me. I have ambitions spouting out of me left, right and centre. I want to write, I want to model, I want to go to the far corners of the world and desperately want to spend time living in New York. Yet I know I would have given it all up to be with him. My Mum loved him, maybe more than me(!), but her concerns were that, as much as she loved her life, I would of done what she did; give up everything to be with the man we loved.  

            While we sat and cried about everything she was saying and how I knew I needed to live my life I suddenly clicked. My Mum and I had always been big fans of ‘The Hills’ and ‘The City’- please note the old seasons of ‘The Hills’ none of this new rubbish! I got to thinking about that famous episode; ‘Timing is everything’ the one where Teen Vogue offer to send Lauren to Paris for the summer as a once in a lifetime experience. She turns it down to spend summer with her boyfriend. Of course they break up and she loses everything. Whitney gets to go in her place and ends up loving every moment. Had the above not happened over the last few days I would have been Lauren. Not even a slight bit of doubt. I would have turned down every moment in my life to be able to spend it with him.

            If I want to be the person that I see in my future, I have to be Whitney. So from now on I’m going to keep that episode locked in my head. I want my dreams so I will go and get them. I will remember him and what we had forever and I am unbelievably grateful for everything we had and all those great memories. I wish him the most happiness and hope that things work out for him. As for me, I’m going to take those risks and aim high, sounds corny but I want to be successful. Maybe one day I’ll find happiness in love again. But for now I’m doing something I have never done; concentrate on me.

Just in case you didn't know which moment:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3bJskiKcUM&feature=related

An Apology and a Memory.

I have to apologise for my failure to post. Due to a series of unfortunate events my most recent post is on hold. Saftey reasons!! In the mean time here is the 'memoey' I had to write for Uni. It annoyes me how i contradict myself at the bottom but its too late to care now! <3

My Memory.

It was the last day of what had been and month long adventure. Three of my leaders, my friends had left on what was to be the next step of their adventure quite early on. While everyone else was sleeping in their tents I ran out to say good bye and thank them for the opportunity they’d given me. As they left I watched the African sun rise from the river bank. The sun was a beautiful red colour, its reflection glistening in the water. As my fellow friends arose from their slumber, we reminisced about all we’d learnt, while sausages cooked on the open fire.

            The journey from England had been a long, stressful one. The unknown and homesickness drove the fear in all of us. We laughed, ironically, at how a month on none of us wanted to go home. Zambia had not only been our home but for the previous year and a half it had been our imagination, our excitement and our dreams. Now we were saying good bye.

            We ate our breakfast, put on our uniforms, and raised the flag for the last time. As the Zambian Scouts sang their national anthem we all held hands and took deep breaths. It’d being incredibly emotional and unbelievably demanding. We were all drained and exhausted, although we did enjoy our impressive arm muscles and tans. We had done our job and the school had two brand new, slightly wonky classrooms, which had literally been made from blood, sweat and tears.

            We walked for the last time, in sweltering heat, to the school. We were greeted with cheers and excitement and we began taking photographs so the final moments would always be preserved. Plus, we had all been very careful with our camera batteries knowing that there weren’t any plugs in the sand or on trees, so we could go a bit crazy with our photographs. We watched in awe as the final roof panels where put in place and the ‘handing over ceremony’ began. The school now had a new classroom so they older students didn’t have to walk five miles in order to carry on their education and slowly lift themselves out of the poverty they had grown up in.

            Poverty is such an over used word. The media had built up this image of how poor and unhappy the majority of African people are except the difference between Africa and the Western World was the media! I had spent the month expecting to feel bad and guilty of how I lived my life and although I learnt lessons about resources and how not to take things for granted, at no point did I feel guilt. The people of this village, and others we had travelled through saw as the ‘rich white people’ but that was it. They had no television or films to see what they were missing out on. As far as they were concerned they were rich.

            On this last day I gave them my old clothes and wished them well. For a group of Scouts and Girls Brigade we had accomplished more in a month than many do in a life time. We let the heat roll over our faces as we took one final look at what we had created.

And so it begins...

The first post is always the hardest. A mind pickle, over whether to begin as you mean to go on or actually talk about yourself. Personally, I find it quite hard to summarise who I am. I guess it’s because at this junction of my life, I don’t know who I am. Metaphorically speaking that is, I am fully aware of my name! In a nutshell; my name is Samantha Mackenzie, I’m 18, my home was Middlesbrough but I have just began my first year at Greenwich University, I’m studying Journalism and Public Relations, I have a Mum, a Dad, a boyfriend, a dog, a rabbit and a fish called Russell. Up until about a week ago, I found myself hating almost every moment and was desperately homesick. Now it’s the best thing that ever happened to me! That wasn’t too painful. Ish. I adore fashion, charity work, reading and tigers. Big love for tigers! I have many secret passions none of which I will share quite yet… though I imagine they won’t stay secret!

            The reason I am writing this blog is for a few reasons. I like to write, share my interests (just talking basically!!) and I knew it would benefit my future career choices given my chosen area of study! My aim is to keep a weekly update about something that strikes me at the beginning of the week and after researching it discuss it here. That is the main reason why I am not starting as I mean to go on. I didn’t expect myself to start blogging again until around Christmas so to be here on a Thursday night I feel a bit under prepared. All I feel I’ve thought about this week is ‘why do I never have any pockets?’ which is unbelievably true and very frustrating. You try wee-ing with your I-pod under your chin in a desperate bid not to drop it! Not quite what I was aiming for!

            My final note is regarding something I read in this months ELLE magazine. In the magazine was an interview with my ‘soon to be he just doesn’t know it yet’ husband, Jared Leto. When asked about how his band, 30 Seconds to Mars, stopped themselves from appearing as how they actually where as people, he stated the most wonderful thing I have heard in a while; ‘It’s the acting. You’re not defined. We are all our own authors’. Wow.