because none of us is fucking up like we think we are, is what i'm trying to say

Monday, 6 February 2012

Musings on the nature of the Queen's laundry.

So basically, what I'm wondering is: how do other people do it? Function, I mean. Because I struggle. Trying to fulfil my potential and all that other wacky shit I promised myself on January 1st sees me with really limited wanking time and most certainly short on minutes for Googling naked celebrities on the daily. I'm out of the house for twelve hours writing and getting pissed off by Italian parents, barely managing a run down the river when I get in, and then I take a shower where most of the time I don't shave my legs before collapsing into bed with half an episode of Downton Abbey or a Skype call home before I suddenly just-

Yup. Out like a light.

My friend Alma knows me to be so incapable of the small things that in order to get me to come visit her she went on ahead and booked a plane ticket for me, calling only to confirm that I wasn't somehow due to live in Istanbul that day and to instruct me to text her confirmation that I was actually at the airport for the flight at the allotted time.

Calum refuses to book a plane ticket to come visit me because, 'Let's be honest Laura, you're notoriously unreliable and probably won't even still be in the country by the time I land. You'll be grape-picking in Chile with a chap called Jesus because you thought it would make a good story.'

Mama simply says, 'I think you're best off coming here ducky, don't you?'

WHAT?

This morning I decided to sleep in and then eat chocolate-orange gelato for breakfast, but as each spoonful slid magically and smoothly down the back of my tongue into my throat I read about the Queen's Jubilee today, finding out she was my age when she ascended to the throne and took responsibility for like, most of the world, and I compared that to my life today whereby I can't even take responsibility for a basil plant or for my laundry.

Honestly, I can't. Last Monday I hung out washing on the vine-leaf surrounded outdoor washing line outside of the bathroom window and until twenty minutes ago it was still there. I left it out there for two days as it was, simply because I am really very lazy, then it rained so it got another two days outside because well, what was I going to do with two-day old wet laundry? And then Rome saw the first snow blizzard of its kind in 26 years and so my washing was like cardboard hanging from the line, two inches of ice stacked on top of each sock and frozen in place. To be truthful, when I realised that I just closed the window again and acted like nothing had happened because what the fuck? Really? I don't have time for that.

I suppose the key to the Queen's success is that she doesn't have to worry about her own washing, and if she did she probably has a dryer.

Don't get me wrong though, Internet, I'm not complaining. I'm totally into what I call Fighting the Good Fight, whereby when I do fall asleep mid-sentence I know that it is in pursuit of bigger and better things than I. Talking to Calum last night he was all, so yeah- that uber awesome TV show I got down to the last handful of people for? DIDN'T GET IT, and I was all, NO WAY! BABES! and he shrugged and was dead philosophical saying stuff like, You know, as I sat with only a door between me and the producers, and I realised that I hadn't made it, I looked to the exit and then back to that door, and I knew the universe was trying to tell me how far I had come in my short life, and how far I still have left to go. Then I was all like, AWWWWW! LOVE MONKEY! I feel a bit the same! But then I remembered we weren't talking about me, which was a harsh and stark moment of truth.

I do feel the same way as Calum though. This time last year I was a mess. When I wasn't busy being propositioned as a prostitute I was really worried about my future. But now my future is here and I recognise that I can move to a new country where I don't speak the language and a new city that I've only been to once, and I can do it with only a couple hundred quid and a single suitcase, write a book and make new friends then not be scared when I decide that it probably isn't the place for me and so I'll go do it all again... That's pretty empowering.

And it does make me a bit unreliable, but Internet I promise you that if you ever bought me plane ticket to come see you I would ALWAYS make sure I made it, and if you were due to come see me I'd absolutely make sure that I was around, and yes, probably the next day I would run off with Jesus but that's why you love me, right?

RIGHT?
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