Holding Page

We'll all be disappearing to that warm, snuggly place sometimes called family for a few days so I'm taking the opportunity to wish you a bearable - if not better - holiday season. Catch up with you soon.
Lots of Love
x x x

One more, no more

So here I am again, sitting in my room with some amazingly depressing music playing just staring at the laptop screen. Before that I layed on my bed and looked at the ceiling for an hour or two, before that even, I tried to write. To no avail. I don't really mind it here, sure I'm a bit sad but is that so bad? Maybe it's a good thing, that I know it and I'm not so afraid of it. I'd like to tell you and myself that I can handle it - no problems, but I don't like to lie. I could even carry on this paragraph about how I don't mind being in the dark, metaphorically and literally, try to convince you - maybe I'd even succeed. But I'm not sure I can. I'm still afraid, I'm still angry and I'm still not going to blame it on everything but me - I've played a fair enough part in my life right? So some of what I'm feeling must have stemmed from myself, from my actions, my words.

I'll not go on for too long tonight, I'm not sure that'd be too good given my mood and lack of substance for this post, that and I may never even post it, it might just stay in the 'Private' folder on my laptop. Obviously if you're being subjected to it then I have posted it. Sorry about that. Or am I? I've been deliberating about this for at least, oh, ten minutes. Now I'm always being told that it's best to say how you feel, but does that just mean when asked? Because I've noticed that not that many people really write about how they feel on their blogs, seriously, it's making me look more whiney and possibly suggesting that I'm making something out of nothing, craving attention - people like me are so very often dismissed as attention-seekers. Is that what I am? Honestly? I'd really like to know because that's not my purpose. So I'm wondering if maybe the blog should stay light, my journal dark, and my life false?

I've a picture on my wall, an oil painting that I did last year for my GCSE. My teacher dismissed it as; "nothing special dear, surely you can do better?" As a matter of fact I did do better, by some fluke I got an A. But I had never worked out quite what made it so terrible, such an insult to her artistic eye. I've just realised, it's a reflection with a sunset, the sunset is reflected into the water correctly - but the rocks and other surroundings have no reflection. Ah, that'd be it then. Still, it took me 5 months to realise it so on first glance it's not too bad, unless you're really good at art. Or maybe it's hideously obvious to everyone but me, I'd better take it off the wall.

Actually I'll leave this here, I'll leave you with a poem if that's ok? To satisfy a request, as it were. Stay Safe.

'My Word'

You've got it all sorted,
Covered it all up so now;
You look so perfect,
Settled and dedicated.
Does she know what you can do?
I assume she knows it all,
About me, about you, about the other,
Your strenth, used in questionable ways,
My bruises that won't heal.
I'll just sit over here,
Don't worry; I'll conduct myself well,
I will speak when spoken to,
I smile at every look,
Talk about you, fight your corner,
Make you look like the man you long to be.
Wouldn't it be strange?
If she could read the past,
Then maybe she'd change her mind,
If I wasn't bound by lies,
Maybe she would see those scars.
But what am I saying?
You're not all bad,
It's not all your fault,
I never claimed that it was -
I love you.
Just shouldn't each new beginning;
Start as it means to go on?
Until then, I'll do as you say,
Try to be the perfect accompaniment,
The back - up to your smile,
The parts you miss out.
If you like I'll even stop screaming,
I'll put on my mask,
Smile and give her a hug,
She'll never know -
I promise.
xxx

Can anyone help?

Ahhhhh, nooooooo. Ok I'll stop being dramatic, I suck at it.
Today, I suck at life, truely I do. Ugh.
I'm despairing today and I didn't know what to do, so here I am, on your doorstep, someone come and say hello?
Please.
Although it's silly, because really who on earth would want to answer their door to me? I'm not just saying that, though I realise how it sounds. I'm just having a stupid, stupid fucking day.
I apologise.
I'll update this *properly* soon.
Be safe etc
x

Make your own...Fairytale

Contents:

1x King
1x Queen
1x Prince
1x Princess
1x Fairy Godmother

Or is it 2x Princess?

Right, well I had a few discussions the other night. My argument to counteract theirs wasn't very coherent, I'll give them that. Now I feel the need to try again, and not because I only believe this because I've been told it. I honestly believe that monogamy>polygamy.
Most people have more than one close friend, but also they have one who is their first point of call in a crisis, their best friend - the one that they connect with the most. I'm not saying that all the other friends are superfluous, they too have their best friends, but generally we have one friend - who isn't more important, that's not what I'm saying. Well I think you know what I mean.

At some point in every person's life, they find someone who is just above their best friend. Someone who maybe embodies all of the things that the person could find in their friends, only in one. Someone who we want to hold hands with, be held by, be kissed by - and lets face it, have sex with in most cases. You know (those attatched people out there) that when your girlfriend/boyfriend tells you that they love you, it feels like nothing else matters for that one tiny second and you feel like the most important person in the world.

Now imagine if you were told that you were loved, the moment is shattered because you know that the speaker has said that to someone else. You're not special anymore, not the only one they'd do anything for, not the only one whose bad habits are put up with in the name of love. If one day you annoy your partner, you know that they'd have someone else to go to, someone that they'd rather be with. I'm also pretty sure that it would be quite hard not to have a favourite partner, you'd decide that you liked one better than the other and actually there's only one person you want to be with.
Please bear in mind that I'm talking out of my arse, none of the above has ever happened to me.
I have to go to work, I will resume this later.

*Later* Blah, crap day at work, will continue when I can be bothered.

*Tuesday* Right, so I just read over all that again, and I can't remember what my next point is. If the argument were to be won on facts and logic then I would certainly not be the triumphant. But the point is, it's not about facts and logic, no matter how clinical you try to make it, you can't change feelings.

xxx

Niki, pass me that hash

Oh dear, oh dear. Niki's in the mood to write, but she's not sure what yet.
Ok I'll stop with the third person stuff now.

Well, just got in from Young Enterprise which I have decided is total slave-labour. I just spent two whole hours at a binding machine, and what am I being paid? 1p an hour. Yes, you read that right. Stil as I've said, I did sign up for it and I did have the details before I signed so I guess I've no right to complain.

I missed the bus to sailing today, yes I did cry. I SPECIFICALLY asked Matt to wait for me on the bus down there since I couldn't get any other transport. But did he? No he did not. So I couldn't go, simple as. It would have been perfect too, in fact it was because the little bastard called me from onboard a lovely J24 to make sure I knew what I was missing. Just cos he was scared of losing the boys v girls rematch. I'll keep telling myself that anyway...

Ummmm. I should tell you that I'm writing this online for once so I'm trying to do it real quick so I can do some work. Usually I write the posts somewhere else and just paste them in, but right now. I'm seizing the moment.

Shit. I forgot what this paragraph was going to be about. Damnit. Oh yeah, I remember. An example of the lack of tact that many men seem to be afflicted with. I went to Quayside today (marine gear store thing) to buy some dinghy salopettes, because I need some. They had none so I went to the desk to order some. I said I wasn't sure whether to go size 12 or 14, I decided on a 14 so I had plenty of room. The guy said? 'you'll have to go jogging and drop a size' ?!?!?!
Ok so I know I can be irrationally sensitive, but please. The guy was huge, and I know I'm too big but jeez.

I've done no Christmas shopping at all, in fact that is the area in which my life is most disorganised right now, and I don't like it one bit. I just don't know what to get everyone!

Oh yeah, Skype. I don't know who has it but I now do, although I've yet to locate my mic so it's not fully working yet. Still I'm ondas4 incase anyone does have it.

Ok I'm done, I'll write something else later.

xxx

PS Ok Ben, hope everything's going well and I'm sure I'll talk to you soon.
PPS Davey I don't know if you ever heard me apologise for Friday night, I was playing with the Remote Assistance tool on msn and I couldn't type a message, then you were gone. So if you haven't then I'm sorry, and my skype is above.
PPPS Uh, I don't have anything more to say today.

Catch Up

Right sorry for not being around for a considerable amount of time, could give you my list of excuses like being ill and busy etc, but they’re just that. Excuses. Totally superfluous I guess, and really a way to pass the time. Which I realise I’ve effectively just done anyway by saying I’m not going to.

I am indeed coming up to Scotland, and I have the booking confirmation right here with me at the back of the language lab at college, yes I should be doing Spanish. I’m coming on Friday 17th February and staying until the morning of the 24th, to Glasgow that is. I hope as many people as possible can get up at least for a day or two, that would be cool, and make up for the shambles that was London in July. Sorry about that again.

I’ve been doing quite a lot of thinking lately, about all sorts of rubbish and getting a little stressed out, not about college I might add – I think I’m pretty well settled into there. But rather about every other aspect of my life, the good news is just now I’m not feeling too bad at all, if I do say so myself. I wouldn’t go so far as happy, but definitely content.

I sunk a boat the other day, well I say sunk but it’s not on the bottom of the ocean or anything – that would have been much more fun, as Keir pointed out to me. :p
Rather we were having a race, girls against boys, learners against intermediates. I had the girls learner boat and Will the boys intermediate. Now we started off in front, got to the start line in time and everything, but then we started to lag. I wasn’t worried since our boat was just learning, but then the boys lapped us. I began to suspect something was amok. I switched a team member for a qualified instructor who informed me that he’d been watching in great amusement for the past ten minutes. The reason? “You do realise your bow is going down?” SHIT, no I hadn’t. I thought it was odd that we couldn’t gybe but I figured that the new girl I’d put on helm had us too close to the wind, but no.
Cue Niki frantically getting to a RIB, securing the boat to the RIB and towing us to the slipway. Then I had to go get the landy because the boat had taken on so much water, we couldn’t pull it up. So I towed round to the Trust and we demasted her and set her over to drain. Twenty minutes later, she is still draining owing to the sizeable gash along her port aft, aww poor ‘Louvre’. So that was an experience. I felt like such a prat, that I’d not noticed that a 14 foot boat was effectively sinking. Yes Niki, you are a total idiot.
That was Tuesday, the first day I felt well enough to sail in two weeks. Bleugh. So apart from that little escapade, I have nothing more to recount.

I’d make a more imaginative post only I’m in Spanish and keep writing down bits of German and Spanish since there are two teachers in here, two classes. And writing in English when it’s the fourth language swimming around in your brain, due to the French music I’m listening to, is not too simple.

Still, in the words of Claude McKay, ‘I shall return’

Take care of yourselves.

xxx

I'm coming...

...to Scotland.

If you'll have me.

xxx

The Paranormal

Every Friday in our last period of the week, year 12 have to choose an 'Additional Study'. These range from car maintenance to critical thinking, but guess which one I ended up on? The Paranormal. Needless to say, I wasn't expecting to take it very seriously. Actually I'm not taking it very seriously, well, considering the topic for our first week was astrology - I think it's a fair view. We did a group thing whereby we were all given four sheets of paper and put into groups of four. Then we had to read each one and decide which character description corresponded to who, they were all taken from a book of birthday descriptions - you know the ones that read 'People born on this day are generally...'. Well this post is really just copying down what people born on the 15th June are supposed to be like, what I'm supposed to be like.
It made me laugh for ages actually, I'm not convinced it has a whole lot to do with me but have a read and see if you agree:

These people depend on their charm to get them where they want to go. Thus their principal talents are outwardly directed and involve others. These people must be appreciated for their seductive charms to work. That is, their particular brand of seduction is overt rather than convert. Those born on this day have a way of winning others over to their point of view and then bringing the best out of them. Most people just want to be appreciated; only the least evolved are more calculating and have a hidden agenda. Money may be very important to this type of person.
Being attractive, in a broad sense, is a big issue for those born on this day. If they do not have natural looks, they use their brains to seduce. If that doesn't work, they use their cunning, their speech, or their knowledge of human nature to draw interest. They have a way of making the opposite sex dependent on them, usually by a combination of the above mentioned charm and becoming indispensable. Any manipulation taking place is, again, clearly overt and in no way as underhand as it sounds - the game is usually enjoyed by both players.
These people specialize in knowing people, how they tick, what their dreams, aspirations and basic needs are. Most importantly, they are able to make us of this knowledge. Often people of this type working for a cause or a company can be of great value in attracting the public to a product or service; public relations and advertising seem to come naturally to them. Indeed, any profession involving "baiting the hook and catching the fish" is withing their talens: evangelical work for example.
These people are adept at guiding children, for they understand youthful motivations. They usually make good parents but can have some glaring faults, such as spoiling their children terribly or manipulating them through being alternatively unforgiving and apologetic.
If a club or organization is looking for a fundraiser, they need look no further; if a business depends on getting people into their store, these people will usually know not only how to attract customers but how to make the sale as well. They have an instinct for how far to push and when to back off, and as the years go by they just get better at it. Rarely are those born on this day found pursuing immoral goals, perhaps because it is a pursuit in itself, not the goal that interests them. Most often their charming manner is a delight to those around them. What they really are, however, their true identity, may forever be a mystery not only to others but to themselves as well. More highly evolved people are not locked into the role of seduced, however benignm but remain open to outside influences, perhaps higher forms of consciousness ansd thought.

STRENGTHS: Attractive, Sensuous, Clever
WEAKNESSES: Manipulative, Too Outgoing

I really don't see me in that, which confounds my belief that star signs, astrology and the like - are rubbish.

x x x

Once in a house on a hill

You know when you see two people so obviously in love, so oblivious to the world, so totally dedicated to each other? They don't want it ever to end and they deserve to have it forever because they have been brave enough to give themselves completely to this other person, give them their entire life and their heart, in the unrelenting hope that the other person will return the gesture. They have been braver than any explorer or soldier or parent or child, because where the heart is concerned, in love, I believe there is no more dangerous position anywhere. You get your heart stamped on and it seems your world falls apart. Giving your heart on a silver plate, your soul, is astounding. I don't care how many other people have said this, I don't honestly think I could do it. I have no expectations to meet my prince or find him if he's right under my nose and be carried off into the sunset, it doesn't happen like that. I don't expect to find that total love or allow myself to have it because I truly to not feel that any guy would feel that so total love for me, ever. I don't want you to say it'll happen someday or I need to give it time, I don't even need to be reminded that I'm only 16. I don't need anything but to say this slushy, moaning crap and get it out of my system. I honestly don't mean to be so closed and protective of myself, I don't understand myself so I could never ask a guy to try and figure me out. Love me unconditionally. It might sound bitter and angry and sad, you might feel the need to feel sorry for me or get fed up with these rants and moans and things, maybe you'll just tell me to shut up and then see me in 10 years time staring dreamily into some guy's eyes and laugh at me, although I hope the last one doesn't come true. Well obviously I hope none of them happen, but hey it's not up to me. I just had to write it down.

Have you ever thought about how false you are with people? Without meaning to sometimes. You've said you were fine when you weren't, said you weren't tired when you were, insisted nothing was wrong when something was. Why though? Why do we guard ourselves so much from people? Is it lack of self confidence? Or fear of rejection? I don't know and I'm not suggesting we go round yelling how we feel, unless we feel like it, I'm hardly in a position to be able to tell people to be more honest about their feelings, just I noticed we all do it at some point.
Have you ever taken a step back and looked at yourself? Maybe through someone telling you to, or a significant event that made you think, or even just reading your old blog posts, like I did. I read the beginning to now, every one. I don't like who I was last July when it started and I can't stand myself now. What's ironic is I'm totally different to just over a year ago, totally. But it seems I haven't altered for the better, I just deplore myself in a different way, I didn't dislike myself at the time but looking back I do, I dislike myself now and I did three months ago. This wasn't meant to sound so self pitying by the way. It honestly wasn't. It was just another pointless musing that I will look back on in a few months time and hate, not that it's going to stop me saying it now.

Another 'Have you ever?' paragraph I'm afraid... I just organised my desktop, have you ever done that? I've lined up all my programs in ordered groups like 'Folders' and 'Media Players'. I have 6 columns with 5 programs in each, aligned in grid fashion. I'm so sad. They used to be all jumbled everywhere, usually in the same places they were uploaded to with the occaisional move if a shortcut was in the way of some aspect of my background picture. I'd like to say that I now feel fulfilled and that my life has gained a new order, but that would be a lie.

Someone I was just talking to just put the phone down with the excuse that compared to The Simpsons, I am worthless. I swear those little yellow people must die, I knew I never liked them and now I know why. It's because I play second fiddle to them in this person's life, seconded by little yellow people. Made worthless by some silly things with spiky hair and strange sayings. I have since been assured, by text message might I add, that it was a joke and of course I'm not worthless. I've been told that I am of course more important than Sky television's decision to brainwash the world with american yellow people, he did sound oddly distracted in the obligatory sorry phonecall though...

I have five books to read this half term and every one of them is for college, would you like to know which ones? Tough I'm telling you anyway... 'Spies' - Michael Frayn - this one is my modern novel for English Literature, coursework.
'KANT - A very short introduction' - Roger Scruton - I won't talk about philosophy and ethics incase Davey's listening....
'ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY - A very short introduction' - Julia Annas - See above ;-)
'Sylvia Plath - A Critical Study' - Tim Kendall - English Lit again, background reading, might actually be interesting.
'Ariel' - Sylvia Plath - Already read this but I like it and it's related to the above study work, for English Lit.
OK so they're not too bad, actually so far the modern novel is the worst one, mainly because I'm convinced it's children's fiction and I'm a little worried as to why out of 'Enduring Love' - Ian McEwan and 'Snow Falling On Cedars' - by someone, my teacher has chosen what is blatantly a child's espionage story. It's not that I think it's too easy or anything...Just not exactly what I would have chosen for an A Level English Lit class. Maybe I'll be proved wrong, I often am...

You know Guernsey is one of the last places in the British Isles where they still pump sewage into the ocean. Guernsey. This island has relied on the sea as its livelyhood for centuries, it still relies on it. Yet we're killing it, we're polluting it with waste. We have no right to do that, no right to abuse something that has done nothing but help and inspire us for so long and continues to do so, even now, after all that we're doing. The politicans say we've no other options. I find that hard to believe. Jersey has other options, Cornwall has other options, Brighton has other options for christssake. We have options. We could make a waste to energy plant or ship it to France as has been offered, a whole manner of other things. But none of them will make Guernsey money, so they're off the agenda. I'm a member of the only action group on this subject in Guernsey, Surfers Against Sewage. Made up of surfers (obviously) we're aiming to put it back on the agenda. I've said my piece.

xxx

the horizon has been defeated

the horizon has been defeated
by the pirates of the new age
alien casinos
well maybe it's just time to say
things can go bad
and make you want to run away
but as we grow older
the troubles just seems to stay

future complications
in the strings between the cans
but no prints can come from fingers
if machines becomes our hands
and then our feet become the wheels
and then the wheels become the cars
and then the rigs begin to drill
until the drilling goes too far

things can go bad
and make you want to run away
but as we grow older
the horizon begins to fade ...
fade away

thingamajigsaw puzzled
anger don't you step too close
because people are lonely and only
animals with fancy shoes
hallelujah zig zag nothing
mistery it's on the loose
because people are lonely and only
animals with too many tools
that can build all the junk that we sell
sometimes it makes you want to yell

things can go bad
and make you want to run away
but as we grow older
the horizon begins to fade away ...
fade, fade, fade ...

I just like these lyrics, by Jack Johnson

Not quite worth the wait, I fear

x x x

NEW POST!!! TAKE NOTE!!!!!

(Details to follow)

"You look dead"...

...cheers Tom.

x x x

Is it not just me?

In my English Lit class the other day our teacher, dear Mr Thompson, set us a quick task. Someone had said to him that they couldn't write poetry to save their life, it was to get out of a year assignment which is to write a poem for a competition. Being an English teacher he was determined to prove that anyone could write poetry. We all got a piece of paper and had to write a line of poetry, our own or borrowed, then we passed it to the next person and they carried on. When their line was written they folded back the previous line leaving only their own visible, sort of like the game 'Consequences'. This carried on until we had our original pieces of paper back. Now I thought it was just me and a small minority that felt like jumping off a bridge quite often, but reading what my table came up with I'm really not so sure, it's pretty depressing. Anyway read it and see what you think;

I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky
To feel the lonely breeze and hear the aching doubts
Or stillness in a darkened room in a place without hope
I can't see the light yet it burns into my soul
I can feel it searing everyday
The harsh brightness, the insensitive soul
Oh what am I doing? I've lost all control
My soul is so empty, I know I'm alone
My world is so dark, I'm drowning in blackness
Not worth saving, leave me here

Now the first line and the last two are mine. But apart from that?!?! Just quite surprised with the tact they went off on from my original, quite neutral first line. Anyway when I read it out Mr T was 'moved'. From where and to, I don't know.
This Thursday there is a poetry recital at my school, I don't know whether to do it or not. In front of all the English students. You've seen some of the good and not so good ones and they're just not the sort of thing I think I'd like to share with people I've acknowledged maybe once, at a push, in my life. Next Thursday being of course, National Poetry Day.

*The 10th of this month is Mental Health Awareness day and the 21st Breast Cancer Awareness.*

I have joined the Young Enterprise, did you ever do that? It's basically a charity whereby students in schools in the UK and Europe join togther and form working companies, producing and managing them themselves, and run them for about 8 months - until they are liquidated and the winner from each region goes to the next round and so on and so forth. 'My' company has 22 members and is called 'Dare' - I did not choose the name. We are unsure of who is which director or which products we want to manufacture for when, but all in good time. I'm thinking of going for Personnel/HR Director because I actually quite like connecting with people and I think I read them quite well - you may think differently but I thought it was the director I had most of a shot at. Everyone is a director and in Guernsey we have a team of advisors made up of local businesspeople. There are seven main directors with deputies and everyone else is given director duties, by their directors - if that makes sense?

That's about it for today since it's 11:56pm and I've got four hours of homework to do for tomorrow, it may be a long night.

Hope you're all ok.
x x x

Assessment

Right, quite an intense post for me coming up - so bear with it, I don't want to draw it out but it's tricky. The last post I wrote had little explanation, so I thank you for commenting anyway - that's all behind now and I've talked about it anyway. I've actually forgotten exactly what I meant to say. It's Saturday evening and once more I have turned down offers of nights out and am sitting in my feminine bedroom watching The X Factor, yes that program. I am such a sad person.

I spent three days wallowing in laziness from Wednesday and dragged myself out of my bedroom finally on Friday. I had a counsellor/psychiatrist appointment referral. 11am. At around 10am they called and rescheduled it to 2pm, so I was all worked up and a total wreck by the time I turned up at the clinic dressed in old jeans and my pyjama top. I didn't care how I looked. This was my last chance.

For a last chance, it wasn't too bad. I did a lot of talking and some crying and I didn't look into his eyes once. It felt like the beginning of what Neil warned me would be a long road, and to be honest I was scared shitless - as I often am, lately. Right so now I've told you, hopefully you won't have to put up with me whining anymore since I've got a guy who's paid to do it every two weeks. *Lets out a sigh of relief*

Totally lost interest in this post, which is crap since I had a long one all planned out in my head but I had to leave it for a while and I've lost it. I have been wearing this top for three days now, it's actually 'lingerie de nuit' but throw some underwear underneath (amazingly) and you'd never know. I went for a walk along the coast today, two walks actually. I walked on the sea wall and it was majorly windy, I could have been blown off - I wasn't obviously. I am so annoyed that I've forgotten what I was going to say, although not angry. Neil thinks I'm angry and depressed but also recognises I have very happy moments too, he decided to reserve diagnosis on this first session. (Forgot I might not have told you the psych's name is Neil)
I do want to go again, but also I don't. It's pretty wierd to see a file that reads 'Nikita Le Sauvage - Mental Health' on the table in front of you, although I know it won't be around forever. It's sort of a confirmation though, if you know what I mean.

OK, complete lack of creativity or substance for this post, so I'll leave you with the promise of something better soon.

Take Care x x x

PS Haha look how many times I said 'Neil thinks/says' etc in this post. What a statistic I am.

Rollercoasters

Do you know how it feels to find out that your Dad's girlfriend doesn't know you exist, to feel that you weren't worth one minute in their conversation, but to know that next time you see him he'll put you on a pedestall? Do you know how it feels to be told that you're loved, and be unable to believe it? Do you know what it feels like to be so close to someone but to feel there's a million miles between you? Do you know how much of a relief it is sometimes, to just cry? Do you know how it feels to feel nothing, to not know how you feel, to need to feel something?

I just watched Crazy Beautiful. It made me cry, for a lot of it actually. It might be a truly crap film but I didn't feel much before it and it just hit me. It's gone midnight and I've done none of my homework, all of it for tomorrow, none of it will get done.

I did go to school today, but I couldn't stick it. So now I'm at home. Anyway I'm fine, I'll be fine.

Hope everyone's ok. x x x

Water rocks

Wednesday 21st September 2005

19:05pm

I'm a little reluctant to say this but, today was a good day. A good day. It feels good to say that. Good day. I'm not even going to say the 's' word to anyone today, I don't have anything to apologise for.
Yesterday was an awesome day, I had my first sailing session and after one more quick test I was 'given' two first-time sailors to instruct during our Tuesday afternoon sessions, and other times should my students so wish. It was bizarre being totally in charge of a boat, and the crew - I kept forgetting that they had no idea what a gib sheet, or a main sheet, or a main halyard, or a tiller was. But I did keep my cool, when gently reminded they hadn't a clue. Still after I'd told them all the jargon I let them each take the helm in turn - not that it's a competiton, but I think my crew will win. Naturally. I love the water. I would've liked a bit more wind, after Cowes Week I'm used to being a little more in the extreme, but for learners it was perfect. Hoping for a force 4 or 5 next week and I'll be happy. Oh the only other tiny thing was they made me wear a buoyancy aid. I don't wear a buoyancy aid, I'm sure if I didn't wear it hiking out on a 40 footer, I don't need it perched on the edge of a 14 footer. But Risk Assessment Fairies insist.
I'm settling in more to my subjects now, at first I worried that Religious Philosophy and Ethics was a mistake, the questions drove me mad, but after a few more classes I've got Plato's Analogy of the Cave sorted and Meta Ethics going well. Oh and have you ever noticed that 'The Matrix' is a modern day interpretation of the Plato's cave thing? I never knew that till I watched it today. I ask a few too many questions now, I might be annoying a few people - teachers included, but hey. If I've got an opinion and the desire to ask the questions, surely that's a good thing in philosophy? In French today I did a kick-ass presentation on three important things, for me. I went for the sea, a manics CD and my notebook. I made up an analogy for a short story we studied, 'The Fog Horn' by Ray Bradbury, it was unique to me and I got a good first grade in English Literature - 16/20. Spanish is just going well in general.
This is a positive post right? Right, well why does that make me nervous? I'm really wary of things going well, really I know it's not so much that circumstances have changed, rather that it doesn't bother me today. I suspect it's the influence of sailing yesterday. I'm just gonna go with it while it lasts.
I have actually got to write a dramatic monologue for Eng Lit tomorrow, and I have two hours worth of Spanish homework, but I'm really not in the mood. I'm gonna go out on my bike, I've only just discovered how cycling by the sea with music is very therapeutic.

23:20pm

As ever Mum has no idea that I don't sleep, therefore I am in my room with only an incense burning, listening to mp3 because my stereo would wake her up - and she'd notice the light coming under my door. Today being a good day, you'd think I might be more tired but actually it's the exact opposite - I don't have any desire to sleep. I have noticed recently that I've thought I was asleep but I actually wasn't, I'm sure now that I'm not asleep. I never got into bed. I have pyjamas! I've not had real pyjamas since I was a little girl, just worn big shirts from swimarathons or sponsored walks or dad's wardrobe.
I just rang dad actually, last Saturday when he picked me up from band I left my clarinet in the back of his car while I was at work. Trouble is I walked home from work and haven't seen him since. The clarinet is still in the car. It was not my dad's car. So some dude who's having trouble with his Audi has probably been loaned the car, with my clarinet in the back. I need it for band tomorrow. I am fucked. Totally. I had to ring his goddamn phone five times to wake him up, only to have him promise to find it and deliver it to school. My father has never kept a promise in his entire life, I have little hope that this will be any different. All I can say is if the dude in the Audi takes the clarinet or it's lost in translation, dad is bloody well replacing it. Because I can't afford to.
Anyway. Went for a great ride. All the way to the castle to watch the boats, the spot at which I swear my bike just likes to cast the chain off. Each time I go down there the thing falls off and I get to put it on (because I don't flutter my eyelashes at guys ;-) ) whilst most of the other senior sailing instructors laugh at me. Then after they invite me into the yacht club for some juice and to wash my hands, so they redeem themselves. It is dark when I get outside, I realise I don't have my phone and there is probably a search and rescue operation underway by now, since it slipped my mind to tell mum I was going out. Instead I am greeted frostily at the end of the drive. It is 9pm.
The monologue went well, it's a bit intense. I sort of based it on my past year, but obviously I'm not expecting my teacher to realise, I hope he doesn't. I couldn't come up with anything better though and writing from experience is always easier. I've yet to complete my spanish, but hey - the night is young. I read the article though which at a whopping six pages in spanish, was not easy, is quite an acheivement. So far as I can tell it was about the atrocities happenning to women each day in Guetemala. If it wasn't so long I'd post it because it's so awful what happens out there.

Thursday 22nd September 2005

04:03:32am

Damnit I'm annoyed. I'd like to sleep now. Spanish homework is long completed, along with the Philosophy for next Monday, and the anticipated Ethics which I haven't yet been set. I've made copies of each poem I've saved on here, written them out by hand in a notebook. There were 57. My bedroom is also immaculate. Have you ever noticed that Alanis Morissette doesn't know what irony is? None of the things she lists are actually ironic. "It's like rain on your wedding day." wtf?!?!
As soon as this Miles Davis track has finished in 5 minutes I will have one last stab at a kip before the automatic alarm on my stereo comes on at 6:30am.
Sweet dreams.

17:38

One whole hour of sleep, that's gotta be an acheivement. Today lived up to my expectations, compared to yesterday it was crap. Not disasterous, just normal. For me. Spanish finished late and the taxi was late so I was late for band, which ran on and made me late for being picked up by mum and she doesn't like waiting. Dad forgot the clarinet and I had to keep calling him all day to get his ass down to school with the clarinet, then he couldn't find the college and was in a shit mood by the time I saw him. Mum's off out in a bit, trouble is I was going out too but now I'm staying in to babysit. Other than that, not a lot doing down here.

Funny list in The Guardian today, famous cocaine users -
US President Ulysses S Grant
Pope Leo XIII
Pope Saint Puis X
Queen Victoria
Frédéric Bartholdi - designer of the Statue of Liberty
Sigmund Freud
Stephen King
Robert Louis Stevenson
Thomas Edison
Sarah Bernhardt

You'll notice a couple of writers, priests and the father of psychoanalysis - worrying, very worrying.
x x x

A Few Things I Found...

Just a boring Sunday and I was looking through old birthday/christmas cards (I keep them all) and I thought I'd write the messages in some of them out here, actually both are from cards from Dad. Don't feel like explaining why, ask me on msn if you can be bothered. There's also a KS3 rhyme I had to learn for my KS3 exams - 3rd Year/Year 9.

This first card he signed with 'Martyn', rather than his staple 'Daddy'.

A daughter is a source of joy
that never seems to end -
A little darling when she's smalland when she's grown, a friend.
She's a window to a fresh new world,
she's memories held dear,
She's love that just keeps growing,
day by day and year by year.
A daughter's someone wonderful
and no one else could start,
To fill the special place she holds
deep down inside the heart.

This second one was a week late.

A candle for your talents, Daughter,
and for your wit and style,
A candle for your generous heart
and for your shining smile,
A candle for each secret something
you've been dreaming of...

As I said, not entirely sure why I felt the need to share those with you but I did.

Now a Parts of Speech Rhyme, which made me smile.

Every name is called a NOUN,
As field and fountain, street and town;

In place of noun the PRONOUN stands,
As he and she can clap their hands;

The ADJECTIVE decribes a thing,
As magic wand or bridal ring;

The VERB means action, something done -
To read and write, to jump and run;

How things are done the ADVERBS tell,
As quickly, slowly, badly, well;

The PREPOSITION shows relation,
As in the street or at the station;

CONJUNCTIONS join, in many ways,
Sentences, words, or phrase and phrase;

The INTERJECTION cries out, "Hark!
I need an exclamation mark!"

I requested two songs on the radio today - every Sunday there are four hours on our local radio when you text or phone in and request songs with a message if you like. First I requested Mad World - Gary Jules, with the message 'Sorry from Niki', not to anyone but to everyone I guess. Secondly I requested Smoke - Natalie Imbruglia with the message 'To Dad from Niki Lizzie', he doesn't listen to the radio so it was a safe choice I thought, safe because if you read the lyrics you'll see he might not have found it complimentary.

I have a terrible confession. I feel now is the time to reveal it. If you choose to walk away and never speak to me, I will understand although I hope you don't, I don't honestly think you will, but, well it is a pretty terrible thing. I will go after I've told you. Are you ready? I used to be a cheerleader. *gasp* Yes a cheerleader. With the tiny skirt and crop top, I had the pom-poms and the baton, I yelled along with the plastic girls to pop songs. Like therapy, I now feel better.

Time for me to go. Love you. x x x

Today

I have just got in from a long cycle ride. It was a very tough ride. I was riding for about 7 miles into a wind of 45mph so I turned around and came home, plus it felt like my hair was going to be totally blown off my head. Now I'm just sitting in my room listening to spanish radio with no homework, so I thought I'd write a little post for you. I warn you now - I have no idea what to write so brace yourself for what might come out of my mind.

College is going ok so far, there are 250 people in my year - lower 6th/year 12 - which is the biggest intake ever since we have a brand new 6th Form Centre. I've met so many people, which I did find a little bit scary but I know a whole bunch of different guys and gals now - most of whom I'd never have met without school. I've also caught up with a few people that I lost touch with at the end of Primary School 5 years ago, it was kinda wierd but also not, like we'd not lived a whole 5 years since we last spoke.

As you may know my subjects this year are:
Spanish - Mrs Hamilton + Mrs Gill
French - Mrs Gaudion + Mrs Brache
English Literature - Mr Thompson
Religious Philosophy and Ethics - Miss Thomas + Mr Montague (Monty)

They are going ok so far. For Spanish I have to go everyday to a Roman Catholic girls college, in a taxi, with the 7 other people in my class and we are taught with the girls who aren't allowed to wear trousers, in a school that still doesn't allow any students to study Chaucer. I have to say it does intimidate me a little, makes me laugh too though. Just remember: Soy un ateo/atea = I am an atheist. Then watch them scrabble for their dictionaries while they try to interpret what you're saying, then look at the shocked faces when they work it out. Awesome. Anyway sorry to any Roman Catholics out there.

Ah Bob Marley.

I feel like a repair-woman. So far this week I have set up the home PC, mended the DVD player and repressurized the Gas boiler. What a practical girl huh?! I was saying in an msn convo the other night that I'm a rubbish girl, aka a tomboy I suppose. In my defence I have a feminine side. I like teddies :-) and my room is pink and orange, and I do wear skirts occaisionally - albeit black ones - and I do have a lot of bags. I just prefer practicality like make-up free faces, trousers, flat shoes and rucksacks.

I am cold.

I also have no inspiration for good, publishable writing just now. It's a numb period as far as feelings and poetry goes. Which I tried writing about but failed. I'll go try again.

Hope you uni people are getting on ok so far and those of you working etc are enjoying it. Love you. x x x

Do not worry

Just read these. I'm not going to explain them until the end.

If anything ever happens to me I want to take this chance to say I'm sorry. It wasn't my fault that he had most contact with me. I didn't ask for him to have an affair. I never said I preferred him. I kept being close to him to protect the girls, I don't think they would have wanted to pick him up drunk from a pub or call a cab for him or help him to get home or clean up after him, I don't think you'd want them to go through that. I wouldn't wish it upon anyone, and I never did, even when I thought I couldn't take anymore.
I love you so very much no matter what you say and I love Ellen* and Comfort* too, although I don't know if we told each other often enough. Right now the thoughts in my head are so dark and the scars so vivid. I cannot go on. It is nobody's fault but my own and I'm so sorry I never told you.

What can I say? We had ups and we had downs, we were too alike. I'm sorry I never told you how I felt. I'm sorry for all those choices I made that you condemed. I apologise for my beliefs, but they were just that. Mine. My beliefs. I hope that someday you can wake up and see what I've been telling you for so long. I almost wish something would scare you, so you'd grow up and stop believing that you're invincible. It would be a lie to say I'm not angry, I am angry not at you but at what you do. I despair for you, because I love you.
I never forgot you, even in my darkest hours and when we had no contact, you were always on my mind. I prayed to a God I don't believe in for you. I'm sorry but not for the fact that I love you.

Isn't it strange how close you get to people without being close to them? That's how it was for me and for you, I expect. I know that if you are reading this I will either have released it earlier or someone will have read the note at the top of the page and come to tell you this. I don't know what to say to you. I do want to thank you though. I want to thank you for being there when I believed no one else was. And for never changing who you were when others I knew did. I love you too. And to Lucie* and Pete* I say, Keep Fighting. You are stronger than me and therefore you can make it, thank you to you too, love you.

You will sit and talk about me I suppose, not something I deserve. You will be talking about me but it won't really be me. Because through no fault of your own, you didn't know me. Not really. I never shared myself with you, I was afraid to let you in because I knew you would be afraid and might even shut me out for a little while. I know this will sound hollow but I write it with as full a meaning as I can manage, you are excellent people and I felt privileged to meet you, know you. Without knowing it you helped me until no one else could. So I thank you and I love you.

None of you really knew me very well, you didn't see me often but I know you loved me and I love you. I hope you can one day understand why I never told you anything. I'm sorry for not opening up to those who should have been closest to me. Jane* keep fighting, the fact you survived illustrates to me so clearly that you are meant to go on.

(* denotes names have been changed, partly to protect those who have not given me permission to write personally about them, and partly to make it harder for you to guess.)

Now calm down. I know you'll have read those and realised what they look like, but it's ok. I have published them now so they are out and I will never have to use them. I will never leave those for people to read when I can't read them to them myself. I promise this to you. They are simply so you can see how I feel sometimes and some are just so I could write things down that I can't say to people directly. I have torn the originals, on paper, up and this blog will be the only record of them.

That's the dramatic bit over.

Now guess which one is to whom.

x x x

Well I finally got in, I went to college to enrol this morning then got the bus back with a bunch of people I know and walked down my clos to my house - which is right at the end of a clos with 40 houses. Anyway. I got to the front door and dumped the pile of trees I seemed to have collected during the morning and threw my diary and shirt down on top of them, so as to take a proper look in my bag for my keys. Now it's quite a big bag - the pink one I had in London - and I assumed my keys were at the bottom. They were not. They were not anywhere in my bag. So I phoned Mum who agreed that yes my keys were on the back seat of her car, but no she would not bring them to me. I phoned my sister, but I forgot she couldn't drive, so she couldn't bring them. Total last resort was Dad, there was a set in the car he picked me up from the airport in, but that car was now in the possession of a customer who was borrowing it while his was fixed, so Dad couldn't come either, secretly I didn't mind. By now I need the toilet. I phone to Mum and actually beg her, until the battery on my phone ran out. She came, not happily, but she came. There, wasn't that a great story? Now I'm in my bedroom with the stereo turned up full-blast and I'm here trying to write something to update my blog. I kept detailed diariy entries whilst on the mainland, so I think I'm just going to take a few extracts from that, not all of it because some was written in the dark and I can hardly read that, and some of it is just crap.

25th August

"You look tired Nik, carrying the weight of the world. Still, you'll sort it out." Yes this is Grandad's welcome. I must work harder to cover it up. The number of relatives who told me I looked pale, maybe I should break the habit of a lifetime and wear make up. Nah.
This holiday my sister stole my bedroom so I had to stay on the futon in the front room, I have always been sort of afraid of that room. It's too big and open and the bed was right in the middle of it. It was my uncle's room up till a few years ago when he moved out (he's autistic) and he still keeps his guns in there. It was creepy, I prefer small spaces, preferably the corners of them.

26th August

The ITV news reports on underage drinking and drugs, they have experts and parents - none of which are under 30 years old. Yet they know all about it, they know why we do it, what the attractions are, and they think we make up exscuses for it. Now have any of them actually asked a 16 year old why they drink or take drugs? I doubt it. Perhaps teenagers have just as much, or more, to worry about than adults - maybe some of us are practically adults, just early. They should ask us, not a 60 year old professor from america.
"If you don't believe in yourself, who else can be expected to?" Oh great.

27th August

My Grandad used to be a Market Gardener, before he quit and took to the stock market. That is to say he owns acres of land and lots of vehicles, all housed in a huge warehouse - the pictures of my house in England can be found on my msn space - and I spent a lot of time out there. I can drive a tractor and his transit van, I used to wear his hat and go tearing off across his fields.
I rode my bike, the only thing that no one else can touch, down to the village to post a letter. The brakes failed. It was totally reckless, I was going down a huge hill and got to a junction and just sped right through, causing a car to practise an emergency stop. You don't speed across junctions on B - roads, without stopping. For the rest of the way and the way back I listened to my mp3 very loud and accepted that if a car didn't stop, it didnt stop. They all stopped. Hence, I am intact. Awesome riding though.
Ever seen 'The Perfect Storm'? I liked it. This will sound totally morbid but, there was no happy ending. The fishermen all drowned. It was honest and life-like, it was the sea.

28th August (getting bored yet?)

I have a little blue cable-tie, you know the ones? It was used to fasten a label to my camp rucksack and when you cut them off they are great to fiddle with, they only go one way. I have been fiddling with this a lot, I like to have something in my hands, like to keep them busy. I think it makes me less self-conscious.
I've got my Hampshire accent back really quickly, sounding like a true farmer.

30th August

Went to Oxford today, what I think made the day for me was sitting the back of Grandma's Vauxhall Vectra while she did 90mph down a dual-carriageway. Reckless lady. Funny, I thought exceeding the speed limit might be 'rude'.
Emily, my youngest sister, was supposed to be getting christened, but Mum changed her mind. Strangely, I'm glad - I was to be her Godmother. The thought of promising something to God doesn't really appeal to me, bad enough my parents offered me to God when I was one year old. Did you know I can recite the entire Lord's Prayer? I used to have to do it daily, but I haven't for about five years, I haven't forgotten it though.

1st August

Steven Eric Daysh and Paula Robertson were today joined in Holy Matrimony, to become Mr+ Mrs Daysh. When my parents divorced I was offered the chance to change to my maternal name, Daysh, but I refused. It was a cool wedding, sort of. I read that poem thing and there were loads of pictures and champagne and decorating of Uncle Steve's car. Don't you find it amazing how two people can trust each other so completely? There are a tiny handful of people I trust. But to give yourself to someone, surrender your whole self to them, well I find that pretty scary. Shall I do the cycnical marriage bit and write the poem I wrote? Tough, I'm going to anyway.

I See

So she sits and she smiles,
There she sits laughing,
He sits with a childish grin,
There he is staring at her,
Never quite believing he was chosen.
He looks away and she turns and she watches,
Watches the man she loves,
Wondering when she got so lucky.
I sit here, observing them all,
Family, friends, new lives and old,
Full up with love,
Trust.
I see the blindness,
Their blinkered eyes, I see,
The illusion they believe in,
The shattering, I see,
They've seen it once.
Yet still they try,
A second dose of love,
Happiness,
Hopes,
Dreams,
Trust.
But I see.

Ok not one of the best.

2nd September

Emily has been listening to Grandad's music again, she is walking around singing 'Joleen' by Dolly Parton. She's got the accent but unfortunately not the tune, if you could call it that.
In the UK you have letters and numbers in your car registration, like KB53EZP, if I see these or in fact anything with letters, I automatically put them in alphabetical order, any words. I don't know why.
Did you know wherever you are in the UK you are never further than 72 miles from the sea? Reassuring huh?

3rd September

Another of those cycle rides, but to a different town this time. The brakes have not yet been fixed, so down a 10% slope was awesome. Coming back up - not so much. Still it was hard ride and oddly cleansing. More loud music to try and block out those stupid voices in my head.

4th September

Jemma and I had an arguement over the front seat of all things. I didn't want it but I got there first and felt like standing my ground. So she phyisically fought me. She is strong. But she seemed to forget I do quite a lot of sailing, so I'm stronger. And taller. With longer legs. Still I let her get me to the floor until I sort of flipped her over and, well she started to cry. Aren't I a bitchy sister? Still she got the front seat. Even though she started it. It put me in a really odd mood, I mean she's 12. When she gets the seat and I have Mum yelling how terrible I am, are you supposed to feel like chucking yourself off a bridge onto the M27? Or is that just me?

6th September

It is rude to decline a cup of tea when offered, unless you have a legitimate reason for doing so - eg a big lunch filled you up. I went for another cycle ride and actually yelled along to the music, it was the first time I had sworn for ages - since swearing is rude. Therefore I would like to announce that I am rude. As Keir said, 'Fuck them'. * clears throat* Sorry, more tea?

Love you x x x

PS I think I need a few ideas for posts since I'm sure this is boring you, any ideas?

Constructive Destruction

I can't believe I'm going off on holiday on Thursday and this is what I'm leaving you with, I swear you don't deserve to be subjected to this after all you've said. But I need to say it. You know what I'm going to say...I'm sorry.
Love you. x x x

It's all empty,
Hollow spaces declaring allegiance,
To those faithless souls.
Inside me struggles,
Something so lost.
I'm no longer a little girl,
You lost her a long time ago,
I don't know when I let go of the rest,
Perhaps it was never there,
Maybe I'll never come back.
Part of me has already said goodbye,
That little child,
I haven't been introduced to what comes next,
Really it isn't time.
If there ever is the time,
I couldn't say whether I'll be here,
So much uncertainty in my firm tone,
I can't even convince you anymore,
No more pretending.
I don't miss her now she's gone,
What she did wasn't true,
Although it might have been better than right now,
For a little while longer,
Later she would have fallen,
Faster than me right now,
Destruction saved her,
That precious girl I used to be.
I know so much more now than you,
In times past I pushed that aside,
I played the act for you,
When honestly I didn't believe it,
Now I know there is no acting on your part,
I'll drop mine,
Wave goodbye to your little girl,
And if you don't like that word,
Say it again to me,
Because I'm never coming back.
I don't know where I'm going,
I don't know what will happen next,
I know you'll not touch me again,
I know in destroying my childish illusions,
You created me.

I'm not living, only killing time

16th August
Ok so I tried sitting down on my bed with my laptop on my knee watching 'The Day After Tomorrow' purely for some sort of distraction. Just now I don't like to be left alone with my thoughts for too long or bad things start to happen, I start to do bad things - watching crap movies is not one of my better distractions I admit. But I couldn't do it, I switched to the Internet in offline mode to browse through my favourites - looking for some literature I saved offline the other day. I flipped to the 'Blogs' category in my favourites, I came to Staying Straight Edge - Spencer's blog. I hadn't read it for ages, always being too preoccupied when I was online but I sat and I read right up to where I left off and learnt a lot, a hell of a lot. This guy is 30 years old and just rediscovering his happiness, lost a long time ago, and it made me start to think.
Of course when I start to think it has potentially damaging effects so I turned on some music and got up a new wordpad document to write something for my blog, rather than just think and get carried away and do god-knows what. I was thinking about the future, mine in particular. The other night I was talking to a wise someone about getting off Guernsey and away, away from the confines of this tiny place, away from the hurt and the pain. But at the time I was thinking along the lines of you know, two years in the future - going to Uni; Spencer's blog made me think further. Maybe too far. My mind is in overreactive mode just now, it gets paranoid and carried away, yet it can't see 14 years into the future. I was sitting down and thinking 'oh fuck I can't see any future'. You can all dismiss it and say of course I have a future, of course I won't one day give up and throw it all in, but although I will listen to you, I won't hear what you're saying, at very least I won't believe you - not because of lack of trust in you, more lack of trust in myself and disgust at myself.
I don't know how many people I've told and been reassured by but the fact remains that writing this blog, truthfully, is one of the most difficult things I've ever made myself do. I've skiied black runs and abseiled from great heights, I've climed a 40 foot mast and gone on trapeze in 35kt winds - but I wasn't scared. Right now I am scared, I'm scared of what people will think, I'm scared of my thoughts, I'm scared I'm imagining all of this and I'm scared of myself. Telling people that via this post is hard, writing this and actually publishing it on the blog is hard, getting out of bed in the morning is hard, avoiding that full packet of paracetamol is hard, averting my eyes from that corner of my desk is hard. I have a friend who texts me every evening, congratulating me on getting through another day - she's proud of me for doing it, and she listens when I tell her that considering certain factors I think I've failed overall. I'm not saying she's the only one who helps me, and she doesn't understand me - unlike someone else I know who understands me so much it makes me cry sometimes, just it's one of those tiny things I can only hope to hold onto.
It seems so long ago that I sat in my old dining room, shaking, telling someone I wasn't ok. Worse still it doesn't seem to have got any easier, my current thought is that it's getting harder and harder. The only consolation in that is that I can't have hit the bottom yet - because I believe until I hit fucking rock-bottom, I can't come back. *Maybe you'll never come back you idiot* That's the voice in my head, that's what I'm up against.
This post was full of good intentions. It was going to be a relief and insightful and have a meaning, it was going to give you insight into how I feel. I have failed.
I have just been downstairs for dinner, dinner I didn't want. My Mum sits opposite me and watches every mouthful, makes me eat every last bit so I'm left feeling totally sick, it's all I can do not to make myself sick. Surely if you're not hungry you shouldn't have to eat? It's not ungratefulness, it's, well I don't know what it is. I don't know anything. I'm sorry. I have a confession, I've been grappling with it for the past hour and I've finally decided to just write it down, last night/this morning I sat down and wrote notes to my Mum, Dad, You guys and the rest of my friends and family. I wrote notes apologising for who I am, I wrote them to say sorry, to tell people I love them. Hopefully they won't ever be seen because they were that type of note, but at least now I known that I'm covered in all eventualities.
That's it for today. Take Care. x x x (PS Thanks Davey for reminding me of the song which contains the lyric that this post derives it's name from.)

17th August

Last night after I finished writing I went downstairs for some distractions, I didn't get any. Instead I found myself listening to my Mum talk about my GCSE results and her Brother's wedding in which I have an active role, my Dad. Inside of me I wanted to reach over and just make her stop, it all seemed so mundane and pointless compared to how I felt, I wanted to do anything to make her stop talking. Instead I kept nodding in the right places and pretending I was listening. Then I went upstairs totally disgusted at my own thoughts.
I did something so stupid up there that I'm ashamed to write it here, I can't write it. Apparently some things aren't just hard, they're impossible. Immediately after though I phoned a friend and she helped me calm down and gave me advice, we talked for 45 minutes until I apparently started going quiet and the next thing she knew I must have passed out or something. I awoke, late, this morning to about 15 messages urging me to call her as soon as I could. Today I just felt so ill all day, I got to work late which I, naturally, got a bollocking for. Which pissed me off. I'm their most punctual, attentive, fast-working student temp but as soon as I'm half an hour late they fucking yell at me. Bastards.
Sometimes, at home, I find it hard to grasp that there are actually people around me going about their normal lives, I forget that just because my life is crumbling it doesn't mean theirs change, but I don't show it to them - I don't think. I can't do or else I would have got a million comments from Mum by now.
I don't know what else to say today, and I'm worried about making this too long. So I'll leave you with the aforementioned reading for my Uncle's second wedding because it's something I would love to believe someday but I don't see how I can.
Take Care. x x x

Now you will feel no rain for each of you will be shelter for the other,
Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other,
Now there will be no loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other,
Now you are two persons, but there are three lives before you, His life, Her life and your life together.
May beauty surround you, both in your journey ahead and through the years.
May happiness be your companion to the place where the river meets the sun, and
May your days together be good and long upon this earth.

If your parents believe that, still, or you imagine yourself believing that someday then I really fucking envy you, I really do. Sorry.

18th August 12:44pm

Home from work for lunch. Writing this will make me late I expect but somethings can't wait. If I don't type some rubbish I won't make it through the four hours I have left when I get back. I ate a raspberry Alpen bar for lunch, because raspberries are better than strawberries. It was good. Ok you can tell I have nothing to say, so I'll write some more later.
(19th Aug) I forgot to write some more, or I couldn't think of what to say and I'm publishing this today anyway.
x x x

The Saga of Niki

I'm carrying on with the whole honesty thing on this blog, sorry.

I'm in my new bedroom, decorated and furnished solely by myself - I'll show you a picture sometime. I've been here all day, writing and listening to music and well, crying, amongst other things. Right now I am trying to listen to my entire CD collection to decide which albums to keep, I got up to Boyzone's Greatest Hits. Honestly. I own that CD. I'm on track 15 which all you avid fans out there will know is 'You needed me'. This is mine and my father's unofficial song, it just made me cry. Reading how sentimental that sounds is making me feel sick so sorry to anyone reading, but you know about Dad and I, sort of. I have recently had to face up to a lot of facts regarding Mr Le Sauvage, character traits and selfishness relating to him, things I think I'd rather not know - I have enough going on in my head without that. But whatever.

Our unofficial album is Shania Twain's 'Come on Over' and that makes me cry too. The first song I remember listening to on Dad's music system, when I was about four is Tina Turner's 'What's love got to do with it?'. Celine Dion's Titanic song is the one that was playing that evening when all hell broke loose. Kate Winslet's 'What If' is the song that was playing the day Dad left home for the second time in 1999. Ronan Keating's 'Life is a rollercoaster' is the song Dad played on his car stereo the day before he was convicted for drink-driving for the second time. Leann Rimes' 'How do I live?' is the song that was playing in the cornershop the day I walked down to meet Dad after he came out of prison, on the 27th December 1999. The Clash's 'London Calling' is the song that was playing when Dad and I were walking around Gatwick two days after I met Davey, Keir, Conor and Chloe. The Calling's 'Wherever you will go' is what I fell asleep to (with the aid of many sleeping pills) last night.

I got back from Guide Camp yesterday, a week camping in the New Forest with 10 girls aged 10-12 and three other leaders. It wasn't proper camping because we had a cooker thing and toilets and a hut with tables and chairs, and we slept in four man tents. We did swimming and low ropes and climbing and abseiling and kayaking and rafting, I am shattered. I didn't sleep and I forgot my rollmat so I layed on the dry ground for seven nights. The last night was possibly the bit I enjoyed, I layed in the open air in a bivvy bag and watched the shooting stars all night long. I didn't really enjoy being responsible for so many children when I didn't feel responsible or in control of myself and that was what ruined it really. That and a few other things.

I am also looking through old copies of Q magazine and NME whilst I write this and reading all the articles over again, articles on Elliot Smith that didn't catch my eye in 2003, on Kurt Cobain that annoy me, on Joy Division which I have cut the posters out of and on the Manics when they met Fidel Castro in Cuba. The time scale on this post, by the way, is screwed because I have had my internet useage raitoned owing to the 95 quid bill I owe my Mum from last quarter, therefore I'm writing this to put on the net whenever I can next access it. Which I guess if you're reading this, is now. I'm also reading back issues of The Grammalogue - the school magazine which comes out once a year and I have contribted to on numerous occaisions, whilst doing so I have found a poem written by a girl I once knew, I'll put the poem at the end of this post.

The sun is streaming through my window, there are no clouds in the sky, there's a 20kt breeze - it's what I might have called a perfect day had I been sailing today. It's what I might still have called a perfect day even if I were on dry land. It would be a perfect day if my head would let it be.
"Slats of cloud patch up the pink leak in the sky" - beautiful sunsets in the New Forest evenings. "I shall return once more" - to where? All I know is I will. "I'll drown if I stay here" - guaranteed.
That's it for now, take care.

'Tomorrow' - Lara Wood aged 15

Tomorrow's too short when you've lived for today
You made a mistake, now I will not stay.
Tomorrow's too short and you've thrown it away.

You know you never allowed me to have my say.
We grew apart and you pushed me away.
Tomorrow's too short when you've lived for today.

Why don't you care Dad? Why don't you say,
"You make me proud , Lara, everyday."
Tomorrow's too short when you've lived for today.

Now I'm past caring, why should I pay?
You made a mistake, Dad, now I'm drifting away.
Tomorrow's too short when you've lived for today.

Have I let you down Dad? Why don't you say,
'I love you my daughter, more and more everyday.'
Tomorrow's too short and you've thrown it away.

I've drifted too far now, maybe one day
You'll understand Dad, what you've let slip away.
Tomorrow's too short when you've lived for today.
Tomorrow's too short Dad, and you've thrown it away.
x x x

Get the fuck out of our water!

Sorry that was a bit of an abrasive start wasn't it? Ah well I got your attention I guess.
I've arrived home from Cowes Week, and what a week it was! Some snobby sailors and pro sailers and of course drunken sailors, not that you can't be all three of course - and lots more besides.
I was on Exocet Strike, a Beneteau First 40.7 Distinction cruiser racer - a pretty cool boat, in class IRC 3 which was a pretty good handicap too, first day we were 7/40 and second we dropped down to 17/40 which hurt a bit but still we got better and considering we were a light crew of 14, all thrown together from places as far as Germany - it was good, some good results.
The crew consisted of JD - skipper, Paul - mainsheet, Brian - foredeck, Dane - spinnaker guy, Christophe - foredeck, Ruth, Nikki, Sharon, Jackie and Kay - rail, Ken - nav, Jon - spinnaker, Craig - main, and me - spinnaker trim!
I stayed on board the boat which was an experience in itself with 5 other guys! We moored in East Cowes marina which is quite a new one, most of the shoreside action is in West Cowes so you take the water taxi or floating bridge across the Medina after races to register and meet people and stuff.
I met so many different people from boats or the shops in town and other crews, I didn't drink except for one day so I have some funny stories that the rest of the crew swear didn't happen! I got contacts and crew offers from all kinds of sailors all over Britain, given to me when they were drunk but the great thing is they remembered me when they were sober! Everyone seemed to assume I was older than I was and the core crew of JD, Brian, Dane, Paul and Chris used me as their mascot - being the only girl among them. I also was asked to do bizarre things in the bar like order drinks to get them cheaper and order the crew shirts and um lift up my top so that some UKSA students would give us hats - I didn't do the last one, I wasn't that drunk! Although Mount Gay Rum is quite nice at 1am - swiftly followed by some dodgy looking kebabs on the way back to the boat, followed again by watching Ken fall in the marina after 15 pints - his wife wouldn't let him home.
We didn't eat much good food since we tried eating while sailing but then we had to crash tack and the skipper yelled something like 'Throw those fucking sandwiches away and ready about!' So lunch was at about 4pm and dinner at 11pm/12am usually with bacon rolls and lots of caffeine at about 6:30am.
I wanted to write so much but I can't write it all down now, couldnt even if I wasn't too bruised to try, too shattered to try.
Plus now I'm realising that I'm back in Guernsey when I'd rather be with the crew in the Yacht Haven or on the mainland, so I'll leave you with a few words scribbled on the back of the Flybe magazine on the 30min flight home.

Look down there,
At that flat sea,
And the patchwork fields I know off by heart,
The land I need,
The one I hate to leave,
Watching it speed away,
Feeling my cheeks grown wet,
Crossly wipe the tears away,
Wishing I was there.
I know I'll be back one day for good,
Alone in my real home,
The sky grows pink,
The sea so soft I want to jump,
Fall into the blue,
Down where I belong.

*sigh*

x x x

We could give up now and never even try...

... but what kind of journey would that be?

You are all fantastic people. I was scared I'd get no comments and have to just sidle away meekly and crumble into a corner but you're here!

Makes me all warm inside.

Gah I'm getting sentimental, stop it Niki.

Talk to you soon.

x x x *hugs*

Upside Down and Back To Front

I need to write, I don't know what about but right now I need nothing more than to write. I just read a blog that I saved offline in my favourites, it is an awesome blog written by a guy trying to overcome alcohol, drugs and depression whilst searching for his soul mate - and he does it very well, no matter how low he is, how much shit is running through his mind, how much he's crying and hurting he still writes, usually exactly about how he feels. And he expresses it very well. I don't know if he ever visits this blog but if he does, here's to you Spencer - I've posted a link incase any of you feel like some really good reading right now, whatever time of the day it is or where you are - I guarantee it'll make you think. www.spencersteel.co.uk.

This guy, and another called Ian have influenced me greatly recently, I've never met them - but who says you need to meet someone face to face to get to know them? Spencer says exactly how he feels, so literately and Ian is so selfless, maybe a little too selfless sometimes because no matter how sad he is he will always listen to and give advice on your problems, and the evilness of the male species (long story). Right now he is pretty ill, I'm not going to tell you how because it's not my place but take my word for it, my thoughts and spiritual hugs go out to him, and some carrot cake too (another long story).

I think I need to write on here a little bit more how I feel, those of my more regular msn chattees will know but others won't, even if you do I'm going to write it anyway, since right now I've no one else to listen to me - and I don't think I could talk if there was. There are things I don't think I'll ever tell everyone, but never say never, some things I'll just say and I don't care what anyone thinks of them - so exscuse me. I'm not crazy lady. That's the startling truth. I was given that name and persona by friends, it isn't who I am. I never needed to address problems and isssues as they arose - I helped and addressed the problems of those nearest to me instead. Since I've realised that crazy lady is pretty fucking hard to keep going, some days it hurts so much to get out of bed and smile, when deep inside, inside my head it's all dark. Some days I can't do it at all and to those people who notice I can't always do it, I am rotten to - I'm sure of it. I don't like for people to see when I need help, can't let them in, for fear of them shutting me out. I don't really like whoever I am right now, I figure if enough people hurt you and leave you - there must be something wrong. Very wrong. With myself.

I don't truly believe that anyone is 100% 'normal' - I don't think normal exists, most people I know who claim to be normal have some sort of underyling fear in themselves or doubt about how good they are, how much use they are to others. Now after reading that people are going to want to turn around and tell me to shut up and smile - stop complaining and get down to it like the rest of us do. But it's not that easy. How I feel has goddamn near consumed me for months, and forced me to do some pretty stupid things, some of which I still do, but I can't stop them. Not yet. I haven't hit the bottom yet. I don't sleep anymore, although my parents think I do. I lay in bed and think. Watch things running through my head, things I was sure I had dispelled from my memory, or things I never realised happened - but I haven't got rid of them and they were very real. I got a papercut yesterday and it was quite deep, from cardboard, but I didn't feel it. I feel all detatched.

I'm sitting here listening to the Lost In Translation soundtrack, after reading Gordon's account of it I had to hear it. And it's beautiful. It's sad. But I'm not crying.Saying that I nearly am, track 3 oh and 4 erm and 5 are very tender. Yesterday I cried, I fell to the floor in my room and cried. I was in the middle of packing up my stuff ready to move and all of a sudden I had to cry. Later I went downstairs and watched Top Gun and I didn't shed a tear - not even when Goose died and the bit where Maverick throws Goose's dogtags into the ocean. Those bits always make me cry. But not then. I'm not in control of myself anymore. That blackness and that dark envelope consumes me, totally sometimes, and I come round, anywhere - the office, the kitchen, I could go on, and I'm not aware of what happened. All I know is I was crying and it was dark. I could be in a room or an office full of people I know all talking to me, my phone is ringing, a text comes through, yet the feeling right then, the one that precides over all others. Is loneliness. Unexplained loneliness. Fuck.

Having read back over what I've written so far I can see how people would read this and run away, or sidle away meekly so as not to upset the odd girl writing this. But don't. I pray to every non-existent God there is that you won't leave me now. I don't need you to ask how I am or how I feel. But I need you to be here, around. Be the lovely people that you all are. Don't let this silly problem and post make you question your own happiness, unless you think it needs to. I don't intend to plant seeds of doubt in you, just urge you to tell people exactly how you are, what you're thinking and don't brush yourselves aside. I'm not advising you to be selfish or self-centered. Just honest.

I'm suddenly aware how much I've said. So I'm going. x x x

London Calling

Yeah, the title was the only song I could think of with references to London, plus I bought the album on the way back.

I'm not sure anyone I met even reads this page anymore! Occaisionally I think Davey graces us with his presence, anyway.

Got back from London last night, twas an OK trip although nothing really to do with what it was intended for, due to parental restraints.

It was pretty froovy meeting Keir, Davey, Conor and Chloe - even if it wasn't for long! Sorry about that guys. I'd have preferred a longer meeting, who knows if they would?! Hehe. No it was cool.

London was good too. So what did I miss?

xxx

Tales From Another Different Desk

Just got fed up of that poem so I arrive at work and decide to make a new post, a post with no substance but a post none the less.

I'm putting up my art exhibition at school today so I get to leave here early. Woo.

My parents are viewing said exhibition tomorrow. Not so Woo.

Went to a wedding reception on Friday, got bit pissed. Woo.

Had to get up early Saturday. Not so Woo.

Last day of work before London tomorrow. Woo.

Doctors after work. Not so woo. But also a bit woo I guess.

Time for me to go for coffee. Woo.

Boss coming upstairs. Not so woo. Wish he'd look me in the eye.

Talk to you soon
Apologies for the creative massacre that is this blog post, actually this blog.
xxx

Shallow Desire

Guess who got fed up with her job at the Audi/Porsche garage? This is pretty bad writing but it only took ten minutes or so and it was just to make sure I didn't yell at a customer.

I lead them this way and that,
So many of them,
They all want the same thing,
The money they already have.
If some day there is boredom,
Take some wealth and bring it to me,
I can show you what you want,
Those things you think you need.
The machines they gleam,
The eyes see,
The people want.
They all get.
I only serve those with money,
None of you with sense,
The showroom smells of greed,
Yours and his.
Not mine.
It's obvious I'm not ok,
They just don't care,
Scathingly tell me not to drip my blood on their leather,
The money removes the compassion,
Greed exterminates concern.
So as they speed away,
Leaving me in a cloud of diesel,
The cloud that inhabits my mind,
Is suddenly very clear.
They have money,
They have the car,
They think they have it all,
All I see is shallow desire.

xxx

Yeah

What shall we talk about today then? I'm all out of pointess ideas, and pointfull (?) ideas come to think of it. It's the heat, let's blame it on something else shall we? I might end up doing the whole thought train again so I apologise in advance if that happens. Firstly I'l tell you about my weekend then we can work up to today, good plan? I'll start with Saturday, it was hot. I walked to music centre and arrived almost melted, I know because Luke said I looked like I was about to melt, I think I took offense. Hehe. Then we went to attack Mr Livermore who runs our band with reference to the performance we have on the same day at the same time as the year 11 formal, well the year 11 Grammar pupils did then. We didn't succeed. We're going to boycott music centre, that is until next Saturday when we'll wake up and find we can't live without it. Tom's Dad phoned the president of the music centre in the end and got us all off, not sure how he did it. Ah well. Anyway then I walked home and almost melted again so I got in and changed into what was frankly beach wear, but I didn't care. What a bad rhyme. I got a tuna sandwich and some apple juice and waited for Dad to pick me up, which he did after almost squashing me. I wish he'd drive his own car. Then we went into town and did some Father's Day shopping, very discreet on my part I might add. At about 3pm Paul rang and invited us over to look at the stag weekend photos from the previous weekend which naturally I jumped at the chance of, until I saw one of my Dad and Paul in bed together. Though they swear there was separate beds and it was the camera angle. Hmmmm. So it was hot in the garden so we had some cold drinks and listened to some music, had some pizza, and obviously a chat. Jason and Tracey and Darren arrived then, shortly after came Darren's Mum, who I'm afraid my Dad has an unhealthy obsession with. All those people I mentioned are sort of 20-30 by the way, that's why the obsession of a 30 year olds Mum is unhealthy. I think. Some other stuff happened too but I won't talk about that now. When the sun moved round we piled into the deadly car and I was driven home the long way round to give me a chance to play with all the pointless objects and the things that pop up if you play with the remote. When I got home it was food shopping time with Mum, after I got yelled at for being late. It wasn't a big deal. I had my phone. So food shopping was a riot *sarcasm* and we came home and had some barbecue food with next door.

Sunday was Father's Day and very hot, 33C - that's degrees, nothing else Ok Keir? So Dad came round and we did the gifts thing and he left for, somewhere anyway. I intended to head over to Herm but a lot of my peeps were having lunch with their Dad's so fair play to them. I stayed home. Until about 3pm when we went to my favourite beach and did some swimming and beachy stuff, that was the best part of the weeking I'm thinking. On Monday I organised a cinema trip which was. Hold on. I can't remember which day it was. Shit. It might have been Friday. Buggar. Oh well. One day we went to the cinema but a few peeps, no names, had slight trouble with the bus timetables or their cars or whatever so in the end there was three of us. In the whole cinema. Well screen four anyhow. So we bought loads of sugar crap which we didn't eat and put our feet up on the back of the chairs in front. The cinema people looked bored, they must have been since one kept laughing at my unfunny humour, and promptly gave me his phone number. Mr and Mrs Smith was ok actually, a bit Hollywoody but good. Since I can't remember which day that was I'll skip to Monday afternoon. My last exam, French Reading. Twas ok, dare I say fun? I'm a freak. Tuesday, yesterday I did not a lot but got my haircut. Shorter and curlier now.

Ok the tedious diary is over, time for tedious crap now. I have taken my vitamins and iron 18 out of 22 days which I think may be a record for me. Yay. I started to mark it off on my calendar in the hope that I remember them better. It's working. Sort of. I went to work today and worked very hard, honest. Ask Davey or Chloe or Keir or Ben, I wasn't on e-messenger or anything. Not at all. Worked all day me. I also wore board shorts and got disapproving looks, I think I better wear a skirt or similar office wear tomorrow. Not tights though. There are cruise ships docked off the coast everyday just now, huge ones and St Peter Port gets filled up with French and German and Japanese and Americans. Gah, the town isn't that quaint. Can't they shop in their own huge hypermarkets or malls or whatever? Really, it's pretty and all but so small! Bad rhymes again.

My current favourite album has changed again, to Jack Johnson, In Between Dreams. Very summery and laid back and well it's froovy. Amazing how quickly those charity wristband thingies ran out isn't it? People don't talk about them anymore, I only ever had two. I guess the people still wearing them are the people who meant it in the first place.

I'm not in the thinking mood anymore, not readable thinking. I'm gonna go and, do some, erm. I know I keep on but I'm having a lonely day. It's not like I haven't been with anyone. You ever get that? Really lonely no matter how many people there are around you? No? Oh well. See you soon.
xxx

Questions

Have you ever woken up, looked around you and almost immediately wished that you hadn't opened your eyes or looked around that morning? Have you ever watched the news on television and wondered what the hell happened to all the good people? And your siblings, how many times have you looked into the defiant eyes of your younger sister/brother (delete as appropriate) and wanted to scream and shout until they did the washing up or picked up their shoes? Are there times that you just wish you were never here? Ok so I know that's a bit of a question overload, silly questions maybe but questions nonetheless. There are questions everywhere, anywhere, about everything and they spring up or are asked all the time. Our lives are built on questions, journeys to find the answers to questions and lost people trying to figure out what the hell the question is asking in the first place. I have to ask myself questions even when I walk into or out of a classroom, questions asking why I got something wrong, who told me the right answer, what relevance the question actually has to my life. There are a lot of pointless questions out there too, like how many bones does a human have? and what are the products of photosynthesis? when did Bob Marley die? Now if you know the answers then it makes for interesting conversation, I guess. But think about how many minutes you just spent reading and trying to figure out the answers to those questions, do you feel fulfilled for being able to answer them? have they changed your direct lives? I doubt it somehow. So what was it that compelled you to search the gloomy recesses of your brain to answer them? I'm not aiming to provide you with any answers, to be perfectly honest I have no idea why I'm writing this, sometimes you have thoughts that you just have to scribble down, answer tiny questions in your brain just by writing down how you feel. I think all you'll learn from reading this is that it's far too muddled, that's how I feel. I know that right now life is far from peachy, and yet still I find myself on a quest for those pesky answers. I remember things I thought I had forgotten, maybe hoped that I had forgotten and I feel things and do things I never thought I would. So being a human I embark on a journey for answers, teasing apart the tangled mess in my brain, trying to find the answer to happiness. Not perfect happiness because as Jane Austen said, "Perfect happiness, even in memory is not often common". I don't know maybe it is possible. Maybe I need to ask more questions about how people feel, why they did and still do things and what exactly happened. You have to ask questions to heal the past, but too many questions leave you back where you started. Perhaps that's another question, how many questions is it acceptable to seek answers to?

xxx

Nothing

I have nothing to say as such. I am 16 today. It feels the same as 15 yesterday. I have a digital camera now. How do I put photos on here? I'm silly. Speak to you soon. xxx

Niki's Thoughts

Hmm I'm going to be honest because I think it's the decent thing to do. As I sit here it is Friday night and I have just been speaking to Keir, now I'm at Dad's house and he currently has no Internet connection so I'm writing this offline - to post at a later date depending on what crap I type out in the next 15 minutes or so. I might not even publish this, obviously if you're reading it then I did but yeah that's a story for another day I think.

Right, or is it left? Anyway even at this moment, right now I have no idea what I plan to write about. I have no plan for this blog, then again I have no life plan so why break the habit of a lifetime? A short lifetime yeah but a lifetime nonetheless.

I can see into the neighbour's garden from here, not that I'm looking - it's a mess! They ripped all the plants out and now it's just an expanse, a big and brown stretch of land all enclosed in a scarily suburbian fence, painted in that Ronseal paint stuff that makes lots of promises, well it does to us Channel Islanders anyway. They pulled the shed down too, I've done that before and I strongly recommend it. Then again I was knocking down a concrete one with a big sledgehammer thingy that was very hard to get off the ground, let alone swing. Building the new wooden shed wasn't half as fun as destroying the old one. Same with the wardrobe I guess, the old one was hacked apart in minutes which was awesome but it took hours to make the new one, and there was no axe involved either. And the PC desk although that's a painful story, literally. It was dropped on my foot by my Mother, I'm not sure if I have forgiven her yet hmm... I like DIY sometimes, maybe it's just power-tools like drills and stuff but they are so cool! Some may say destruction but hey destruction is a form of creation. Ha saw that film. I worry myself.

Oh dear am I still writing this? I guess so, it's pretty much just all my thoughts, well not all because I don't want to scare you but it's either this or talking out loud and I'm not sure I feel like that, plus I have music on. I made it my study-leave mission to tune and repair an old jazz guitar today, it was supposed to be todays plan but yeah it was harder than I anticipated. It has been sitting in the corner of my room for about two years after I bought it in some thrift shop somewhere because it was so beautiful and anyway the strings need seeing to and it needs sort of gluing back together and some desperate tuning which was all I managed in the end. So it's rusty and falling apart but at least it's in tune which has to be something right? Talking of music, my sister has started to write songs. Oh dear. Now it would be fine if she could play anything and didn't listen to Girls Aloud but to add insult to serious injury, she is tone-deaf. It hurts to listen. I did write some music for her though so at least she is attempting actual music now, even if it is in a depressingly rhyming, tone deaf, 10 year old stuff. We all have to start somewhere.

What on earth am I going to do with all my art stuff when it comes out of the exam exhibition? I have three modules which is in total six sketch books, three portfolios and three large installation-type things. I have no space to accomodate that kind of stuff! That's why they have art studios at school I think, to address storage issues. However if you drop art after GCSE that's it, out in the cold, no storage rights or nothing. Not so much as a paintbrush. Nada.

I think I sit wrong. I am sitting here in perfect position, or so I thought and I'm getting some sort of sharp pain in my right shoulder, only the right one. I'm not liking it much. Hmm I'll have to think about this. Done. It's the shoulder I messed up ages ago, that will be it. Anyways. Ooh it's music centre tomorrow, yay! I think I might ride down, you know on a bike, I haven't ridden for ages. I don't know why, it allows a lot more time messing about at home since it's so much quicker, I can leave home later. Good plan. Hold on, just hold your horses a sec. That means going home to get my bike, past music centre and riding back. Pointless. I could ride Dad's bike if I made the saddle lower, a lot. Ok that's an even better plan. It has bigger wheels, does that make it faster?

It's my birthday on Wednesday! June is the best month, so many birthdays. 11th-Gordon, 12th-Jon, 15th-Me, Eilidh, Jade, 16th-Emine, 28th-Erin, Ben. That's quite a few presents to buy. I have been promised a boiled carrot from Rach so I'm quite looking forward to that. Oh do I have to tell the story? It's boring. I can't stand raw carrots, so I said I preferred boiled ones. I think you can figure out where dear Rach's mind went next. I coloured in my school planner the other day, you know those homework things? Well we aren't allowed to 'personalise' them while at school since they belong to school apparantly. But after you leave that year, they become yours. Oh the logic. So I decorated it with the pens I used to get my shirt signed. Bloody hell, Gold Against the Soul is really short. I have to change music already.

Hehe Shania Twain is here. Coming to a CD player near you soon. Did you miss me? Thought not. I'm not sure whether I like memories attatched to my music, bad memories. Is it supposed to help you forget? Or help you wallow in the past? I think I'm with the latter. Maybe this CD wasn't the best idea. I have quite a few bad ideas. Like the recorder. Oh I already said that. The London tube map is actually quite pretty in it's own right, have you ever noticed? Course you haven't, you don't have a copy on your wall. Oh dear I have run out of fruit juice. I have recently re-tried orange juice and you know, it's not so bad. Better if you make it yourself of course. So long as you remove the pips first. Seeds? No, pips.

Woo only maths, science2 and french writing exams left! That's actually five tests but hey, three are on the same day. That means that to date I have completed 19 exams, 19! I have Monday and Tuesday with no exams though. And next Friday me and my buddies intend to sail over to Herm for the day, actually it might be on the public ferry since the boat only takes eight and I have a suspicion that Adam has a strange aversion to sailing the boat himself, proper sailing, with a sail. Does he not trust my capabilities? Ha.

I have a really itchy hand. Does that mean anything? Itchy hand. It's starting to get on my nerves actually, scratch scratch. Hehe some friends came to my place after french yesterday and we did the music thing, twas so funny watching my string-playing buddies try woodwind. They have no lung power at all, none. It's really not that hard to make a sound, they were so jealous when I played up an octave too since they couldn't even get up to middle C on the treble clef. It was also cool because I can sort of play strings with the guitar and all, and percussion with the drums. Multi-talented don't ya know? Kidding. Not talented. Oh for gods sake who sings about black eyes and blue tears? Huh? Apart from Shania obviously. Oh I just remebered the other day when I was looking through my RS notes, the biggest red marks I had were not fail grades scribbled on my papers, no they were when I refused to spell 'god' with a capital G, it just didn't happen. Each and every time I forgot, since my teacher is a dedicated Catholic she thought I was directly offending my creator and ruler. Ha. She begrudgingly gave me a good review then since I don't suck at the subject, just the politically-correct-ness. We had this huge debate last weekend in the back of my friend's car about whether we could burn the little red bibles they gave us in year 7, is that really wrong? Not to offend any Christians, just because we don't or do in Rach's case, believe in god. Why is it that Christians, like Evangelical ones can go around yelling about their beliefs but athiests can't shout about why they think god is a load of bollocks? If they do they get frowned at and called disrespectful, yet people only quietly deplore door-to-door Christians and Jehovah's Witnesses. Athiests are out of line but believers are merely expressing themselves. Hmm that sounds benevolent and omniscient and omnipotent or whatever 'He' is supposed to be. Rant finished.

Oh dear I'm all lonely. I need a hug. There is no one here. I know, I'll give the voices in my head a little cuddle. Nope, it doesn't work. I need a person. I felt lonely all day and this post was helping, typing crap no one is ever going to actually read, but it's gone and caught up with me now - the big, red lonely monster. I'm scared. And the monster won't hug me, although I did ask, since he was here etc. But no, it's not in his job description. Have you ever noticed how much some people worry about what other people think? Like the yesterday we went into town and a member of our group refused to go into Pound World, incase anyone saw her and thought she was cheap. Give me a break? She is very image-conscious too though. I'm not. Hehe I look despicable all the time and there isn't a lot I can do about it, so yeah you'll all just have to accept it. Obviously my husband is free to adore me, although he better not be shallow because boy, I'll be a disappointment. Then again he'l have to see me to talk to me, so basically my husband will have to be the type of guy to whom looks don't matter. Not that I have a husband lined up. By any means.

"If elephants could fly I'd be a little more optimistic" classic lyrics.

NME festival guide. Depressing reading. I am going to none, no festivals. Apparently I should go to the Nokia Isle of Wight festival, and Glastonbury - that is my festival style. Ha I have tickets for neither. It was so frustrating last summer because when we were trampling round the New Forest on our D of E practice, all these happy, stoned festival-goers were on the trains and wandering around, some driving. And we were carrying about three stone each to visit graveyards, supermarkets and other 'Human Land Uses'. All the sustenance we had was some dodgy-tatsing lager that the assessor/our teacher gave us and some gelatine-filled sweeties from the overstocked and underpriced sweet shop in Lyndhurst. Oh and we cooked Spaghetti Bolognese, which would of been awesome had it not rained and got all diluted and soggy. Oh and we drove back to the ferry in a good old Ford, a Hampshire, 54 reg. Classic. So we didn't stick out at all. It was so fun trying to explain all the new UK registration to the other island-dwellers in my group, I was the only one with family links and regular exscursions to the mainland and my uncle works in a garage over there. It's really not hard to understand. And they're pretty old now. I've always preferred Guernsey reg numbers since they're only numbers, eg ours is 29952 and Dad's is 7435, no one knows how old your car is that way.
I've been writing for about an hour now, with only brief thinking stops. Sorry if I did post this and you're still reading. Anyway I think it's time the nonsense ended. And so it will.
xxx

OK so I'm at the neighbours and they have Internet, inevitably I did post this.