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