Month: September 2016

Stuff… So much stuff!

I’ve previously posted about how my partner and I are currently saving for a deposit on a house. In the meantime, I’ve decided to rid myself of all the horrible, tacky Ikea furniture I have (tallboy chest of drawers and a wardrobe) in favour of some real, antique non-flat pack furniture.

We’ve decided on the Victorian era with regards to wardrobes and chests of drawers and gothic revival slash arts and crafts for our bed and other items of furniture (jardiniere stands and such) and we’re now scouring the country for bits of furniture we can actually afford.

Unfortunately for me, I currently live in a terraced 3 bed house built in the 1970s so it isn’t blessed with the Victorian treatment in ceiling height and room size. I’ve just found out that the tall boy chest of drawers I’ve fallen in love with won’t in fact,  fit up the stairs in my parents house where I’m currently residing (we can tell by looking, even without the Ross from Friends’ “PIVOT…. PIVOT…..”)

To say I’m gutted would be an understatement.

So, it’s back to the drawing board and I’m now left with a large hole where my hideous Ikea chest of drawers sat until 2 days ago when I sold them on a facebook group to a very happy lady. If I could find a Scottish Victorian chest of drawers that will fit up the stairs and round a corner, you’ll be the first to know!

Planning for the future also puts into question your past. At least, in my case, my past that is currently sat in multiple vintage suitcases on top of (previously stated) hideous Ikea wardrobe. I have collections of CDs from when I was 17 and a member of the band HIM’s street team; I have all the Ozzy and Sabbath CDs I collected in my youth, I have memories in the form of STUFF – so much stuff and so many memories.

But what do you do with all those memories? My loft (or rather, my parents’ loft, which I have temporarily commandeered) is chock full of memories too – my rail of 1940s and 1950s clothing that I will never get rid of, 1950s furniture that I loved and now hate and can’t shift, suitcases full of winter clothes/summer clothes depending on the season and even more mementos all tucked up in various sized boxes…

You know the things… the keyrings you bought on a trip to the seaside with your best mate from high school, and the coat you wore at your fattest (yes, I do still have my ‘fat coat’) and the clothing you used to wear but don’t so much any more, but still won’t throw out because you might some day…

I’m now facing a rather hard decision about what will go and what will stay. I simply cannot keep it all, I simply don’t have the room.

How do you know which mementos to keep and which ones to throw away?

 

 

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Waiting, waiting, forever waiting

I feel like I’ve been waiting for something my entire life; waiting for an appointment, waiting for painkillers to kick in, waiting for the side effects to wear off…

We spend our whole lives waiting for things, but it never gets any easier, does it?

Some people are fantastic ‘waiters’ – they could wait patiently for hours, days, weeks or months for something they really want and are happy to wait. Others are impatient and they want it now. Instant gratification and all that.

What’s worse, is being one of those people who has waited, patiently, dutifully to oneself because they know the wait is worth it, but at the same time being one of those types of people who hates waiting and wants it  when they want it.

In this instance, I’m talking about waiting and love.

As a teenager, I was awkward, geeky and plump. I wasn’t holding the reins when it came to puberty and I wasn’t exactly admired (at least to my knowledge) by the boys. Everyone around me seemed to have a boyfriend or girlfriend or had at least, ‘snogged’ nearly everyone in our friendship group. I was always on the perimeter, watching, listening to their stories and the gossip about who snogged who at the last house party.

There, I remained on the outskirts of ‘love’ or at least, affection. I was waiting patiently for my turn – my turn to be admired by the opposite sex and waiting for someone to like me back. I spent most of my teenage years yearning for a male friend who I thought was beyond handsome and funny and so charismatic. If there was such a thing as the “friend zone” back then, I was definitely firmly in it. Every girlfriend he had, I hated. It tore me up. For years, I yearned for him, waiting for him to finally see me in the same way he saw the other girls in my year. It never happened.

I waited until I was nearly 17 for my first kiss. I won’t say much about it, other than it wasn’t with a particularly skilled gentleman and it was such a traumatic experience, I ended up waiting many years after to build up the courage to kiss another frog.

I’d gotten so used to waiting, that I made a name for myself. I entered college at 19 and became friends with a small group of girls a few years younger than me. I would be introduced on nights out to guys in the local nightclubs and bars as the Virgin of the group. Being known as a 23 year old virgin never bothered me, but I would cry myself to sleep every night feeling unloved and for being untouched by a man and the pain of having to wait for so long to have what everyone else was having.

My talent for waiting didn’t end there. I finally lost my virginal status at the ripe old age of 23 because I had stubbornly decided to wait for the right guy to be my first proper boyfriend. I was waiting for something that not many people I know had waited for – maturity, a sense of self worth and confidence. I wanted to be happy in myself before I gave myself to another and by then patience was definitely my forte. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be and a year later, absolutely heartbroken, I knew I needed to take the time to reacquaint myself yet again with patience.

Well, I’m definitely not 24 any more and interestingly, the older I get the more I lose my ability to wait; to be patient. I feel like I’ve spent so many years of my life waiting to be happy, or waiting for someone to love me… that now I have all that, I want to stop waiting and live my life. I put my love life on hold when I was younger because I wasn’t happy with myself… I changed what I wasn’t happy with and I no longer ‘had’ to wait.

The hardest lesson I’m learning right now, at the age of thirty, is yet again – patience.

Two years ago, I met a beautiful man with long blonde hair, a pretty face and a wonderful soul. Amazingly, he fell in love with me and I with him. Unfortunately for us (and unlike our peers) we don’t come from monied backgrounds and so we’re having to save up to move in together. We both decided after just 6 months or so of being together that we wanted to live with each other, and so we began collecting things for our house. We have tea towels and mugs. We have cutlery and pots and pans. We have a bed and a coffee table. We have lamps and light fittings. But we don’t have a home… yet.

It’s horrible isn’t it… the more you want something to happen, the harder it is to wait for it. I’m so tired of waiting. I feel like I’m being tested constantly and I don’t know why or by whom but I do. I feel like I became such an expert at being patient, that someone is now laughing at me, making me wait once more, purely for their amusement.

I don’t know how long it will be before we can move in together. I don’t know how many more Sunday nights I will cry myself to sleep because he’s not there. All I know is that I don’t want to wait any more. I am sick and tired of waiting, always waiting. I can see our life together in my mind and it looks wonderful. Just how long I’m going to have to wait, is yet another question that will remain unanswered. For now.

Yours Patiently,

Beth Von Black.