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So, France.

I stayed in a four bedroomed, shuttered house in Epron - a suburb of Caen, with a family of three consisting of Jean Marc, Lawrence and Elsa. Each day I got up at 7:30am and waited 45 minutes for Eilidh to get out of the shower, before having the quickest shower on record and leaving the house at 8:30am. We had to take a ten minute tram ride, which we had to run to catch every single day, then a quick walk to our classroom for three hours of oral french lessons with Christophe before heading off to lunch at the Caen University café thing which - for a three course meal - cost an average of 2.50 Euros! Pretty damn good.

Each day after classes we went to random french places like the War Memorial Museum (not my favourite...), hypermarkets, Boulangeries and a Ciderie. One day we went to Paris and of course did all the touristy things like the Musee d'Orsay, the Louvre, Notre Dame and of course La Tour Eiffel. I'm not ashamed to say that I did buy a beret and a little statue of the Eiffel Tower...

I can't actually write anything I wanted to write, loads of funny stuff happened and there was of course the pimp bus and Joe asking Catrin what she liked to do with her chocolate...It really is amazing what you come up with in a foreign language without meaning to, I personally said that I ate myself for breakfast - not easy I promise you - and the innuendos were actually unbelievable.

On the last night, awards night at the restaurant I was awarded, the Mothering Award. Can you believe it? I mean if a label on someone's jacket is sticking out, I have to tuck it in. If there's a hair on your jumper, I must take it off. If your hood is crooked, I must straighten it. Ok maybe they have a point.

I was made to eat french cheese, that was awful. On the last day at school we sat round the tables and ate some absolutely disgusting cheese, it stank and it was gooey. I was forced to drink cider to get rid of the taste. I am not a cheese person. Cheddar and english cheese I can handle, french cheese I cannot.

Vive la France

Mes amis, je vais aller au France pour une semaine entre le 19 et 25 mars.

I shall steer clear of frogs and keep my eyes peeled for snails.

I suggest you do the same.

It's true

I write this in bed, in my sleeping bag, under three blankets and under my duvet. I'm a voiceless mess. I suppose this is why they tell you not to get out of bed until you feel better when you have the flu, but hey - who said I ever did what I was told? Anyway that's not why I'm writing this, it's a spur of the moment thing and I had to get out of bed and go all the way over to my desk to get this laptop so it better be worth it.

I want equality for women, don't get me wrong, but this post may not live up to my feminist reputation - or maybe it does - I'm not entirely sure what constitutes feminism now. I have probably said a million times that I didn't want any guy to protect me, I said that I could do it myself and certainly didn't need any tall, dark and handsome to watch out for me. Yeah that was rubbish, what the hell was I talking about? The truth is I do want to be protected, of course I do, I think everyone does really - whether they admit it or not is neither here nor there.

I might also have said that there was no way that I would ever cook, clean or tidy up after a guy. Well anyone who met me will know that I do tidy up and I do clean, and I do - sadly - enjoy it. I would quite happily clean the house and obviously I would never ask the guy to wash up - he might not do it right - just like he might not keep everything straight or in tidy piles. I have to have it tidy, so would be more than content to do this on behalf of a man. Actually it would just be to make sure it got done.

But the thing is I would do exactly the same for one of my female friends, in fact I do - I do start tidying their rooms and asking their parents if the washing up needs to be done, so it's really equality. The fact that I'm willing to do it for a guy just shows that I'm doing the same as I do for girlfriends. It's providing for people, I like providing for people - I don't see why I ever thought I wouldn't do it for a guy when I'd willingly help out my best girlfriend. What can I say? I don't think things through sometimes.

That's pretty much all I had to say really, in fact I didn't even really need to say that, but it was quite a revelation for me so I felt the urge to share it with y'all. :-)

Expectations

Philosophy/Ethics - Module AA, AX, AY - B

English Literature - Module 1 - C

Well who said expectations were to be fulfilled?

100 changes

Well as I am in the mood for celebrating insignificant things, this is my one hundredth post on this blog. The blog has gone through name changes, background changes and countless profile changes - the blog after all, is a representation of myself - Nikita. I too have changed and henceforth reflected such changes in my blog - I have evolved from 'Crazy Lady' - the intolerable Shania Twain fan, into Niki. I have changed bedrooms, from a green and blue one, to a pink and orange one. And my interests have changed, the things and people I care about have intensified - or at least my feelings towards them have. I listen to different music, read different books and say different things in a different environment - in short, I have grown up properly and stopped trying to run away from what I cannot hide.

When I started this blog in July of 2004 I was just 15 years old, fresh from the delights of Duke of Edinburgh and the relief of finishing my first GCSE year. But the girl who started this blog, was lying. She was pretending to be someone that she certainly is not and she was trying to cover up, forget, things that you can't just forget in an instant. This girl was losing grip but refusing to admit it. Crazy Lady had never stopped to think about anything that happened to her, she instead turned to someone else and tried to help them deal with it, it was easier for her to forget her own feelings and simply shrug her shoulders - relieving the sadder thoughts she didn't understand.

In about November of 2004 things started to change for Crazy Lady and she began to realise that experience cannot be forgotten, and no one can hide forever - so she began talking. Instead of trying to make people laugh while she cried she started to think about how mature she had been forced to become. It took a long time however, for this girl to realise that she could not cope with this simply by talking across the Internet. In fact it took her starting to harm herself and carrying out some truely selfish attempts to really hit home that something was just not right.

GCSEs in the summer of 2005 passed in a blur, negotiations were already in place with a doctor with regards to getting some help - someone to talk to. Because after all, 12 years of supression brings up some interesting conversation. By now, the blog has changed to 'Niki' and has also shed its original pink background in favour of a more reflective theme. The content too, has changed and is now honest. By the time GCSE results were out I had been to Cowes Week alone and led a camping trip for young girls, the results themselves were not as high as predicted - but then the predictions had not taken long periods of crying whilst hidden under a duvet into account, yet still they were good enough to get into 6th form - but we'll get to that later.

On the 21st July 2005 my mother, two sisters and I moved house - we moved to dreaded suburbia, we moved to a three-bedroomed house in a clos of identical houses. The houses are full with identical families with only appearance and history different from each other, but I do not care because hidden inside the house is my sanctuary, the first sanctuary of my own. It is in this bedroom that many an honest post is written, many a poem of questionable quality, many a letter. The rest of the ensuing summer holiday passed in somewhat of a blur, a blur of confusion and anticipation of starting yet another year at school - one I had to try and see as one more step in the path to freedom.

The 30th of September is the day that Crazy Lady died, officially, almost a year after she realised running never worked. It was this day that Niki went to see and talk to Dr H, someone that she had pinned all of her hopes onto, and she sees him to this day despite interruptions and doubts, fear and longing for 'normality'. For Niki, feeling sad and being depressed is no longer such a great tragedy, it is something that she has been given new help with to get over. As of three months ago, she no longer regularly harms herself and it has been just over seven weeks since she last tried to escape.

6th form is indeed my pathway to the future, I am no longer skipping classes or assignments because once again I have woken up to, or reminded myself of the fact that running away with good intentions never acheives anything. If I concentrate on school then I can get good grades, I know I can really, and in turn I can go to University - in Scotland if that's what I decide, and things can and will get better.

Today I have begun a new treatment and I have resolutely decided to make this post a celebration, not a celebration that focuses just on the positive aspects of live but one the accepts that without darkness we cannot find light - after all it is only in the dark that we are able to see the stars.

So I thank you for staying with me throughout my journey, for always being there and for never running away from me. I'll leave you with a quote, found on an album sleeve.

"Sleep away the years, sleep away the pain, wake tomorrow - a girl again." - Hal Summers

Love you guys

Big Wide World

Well, now that I've finally accepted that Guernsey is where I shall spend most of my time for at least another 18 months I am being faced with the issue of deciding where I'd like to go when I do finally escape. I had an interview with the school careers advisor the other day and he gave me countless pieces of paper telling me what grades and UCAS points I need to get in order to go to a whole range of institutions - I got lists of universities for french and/or english degrees with varying requirements, ranging from 360 points down to 80 points - I hope to get more points than that.

I guess you know all about these dreaded points so I'll not list the grade boundaries for each point range or anything, right now I'm predicted AABB for my final A Level grades - how they can tell that with another 18 months to go I don't know, also I plan to drop one subject so I'll only end up with three complete A Levels and one AS Level. If I were to get ABB at the end of year 13 then that would leave me with 320 points, plus a good few extra points from music exams and Young Enterprise exams. However I think the presence of any A grades in that line up is just a little too ambitious - three B grades I would love, but again lets not aim too high...
This Tuesday is the Higher Education fair, whereby about 75 universities come down and set up stalls in our school hall and we get to talk to admission tutors and students, plus collect prospectuses for places that we're interested in - preferably whittled down to a top ten. Taking into account predicted grades I have got a list of 8, with varying entry requirements - to allow for fluctuating final results. These are; Warwick, St Andrews, Exeter, Bath, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Kent and Southampton - although Southampton and Portsmouth would be my insurance, to be honest they're only on the list to keep my parents happy for the moment.

It's a little under three weeks before I go over to France now and I have to admit I'm getting irrationally nervous - I have been to France tonnes of times and I know all the language necessary to make myself understood. I'm staying, along with Eilidh, in a french family and attending a french university for five days - the university will be all morning and in the afternoons we're going to various local places, and Paris for a daytrip. I've never been to Caen but we've been told that it's a nice town by previous participants so I am excited, in fact it's very strange for me to be nervous before going off island - usually I can't wait to get away, as you know.

Within a week of returning from France I will be going off to Barcelona, in Spain, for a trip with much the same format. We'll be staying with a friend in a spanish holiday and attending a language school for non-native speakers in the morning, before going to random local places in the afternoons and out in the evenings. The parental consent form was pretty funny - it had in bold letters that alcohol would be offered to us by the host families (this is in France and Spain) and also would be available if we went out. It was however stressed that we were not to sit in cafés and bars and simply sit drinking. Not that I will be anyway, but I still thought that it was funny.

These two trips will be followed by the easter break, which I will have to probably work for most of - which is a pain because I had hoped to get away by myself before summer. We (year 12) will then return to school for a further two weeks before going on study leave for a month before returning back to lessons for a month before the summer holiday. Why the fuck am I telling you my plan for the coming months? Sorry.

I haven't written a really good, long post for ages - I think that's why I started this one, with the intention of getting a good idea and just writing and writing for ages, but I don't seem to be able to do that. I'm in a bit of a writing crisis at the moment because I haven't written anything for the whole of February and each new thing I start, I hate. Just the first line of a poem at the moment, if I write it and read it then I hate it and screw it up - my bin is absolutely full with one sentences written on little bits of paper. I can't write any more of my book because I'm scared of ruining the few thousand words I have already, even this non-fiction post is going downhill and I think now might be a good time to transfer it to memory stick and possibly post it a school tomorrow.

Hope you're all ok
xxx

Good girls are just bad girls that never get caught

I am indeed real.
Glasgow was awesome, really really awesome. Was great meeting up with Chloe, Davey, Conor and Keir properly - ie without my dad, and with Gordon for the very first time.
We went to open class coffee shops, we walked around the Botanic Gardens, we went to an Art Gallery and Gordon and I went to a big tower thing which was really cool - and sparkly in the roof. We also went to the Cinema and I wandered around other bits of the city when Gordon had gone back to Uni.
I had all sorts to write but I'm feeling deflated at the thought of being home - I shall write more later. This is really just to say thank you to everyone I met, I had a really great time - and to Keir for the loan of his amazing floor, I hope Lisa didn't mind too much.
The fact that it was raining as I walked to the bus station yesterday morning was a sign I feel, the weather was good for the rest of the week and maybe the sky was crying because I miss Scotland, and Irn Bru.
Ugh, that was terrible sounding.
xxx

Rucksacks

What on earth possessed the rucksackmakers to make a 30l rucksack?

Now if you ask me, a proper rucksack should be at least 75l - don't you think? Mine was in fact just that, 75l - and I loved it like a member of my family. I am a big believer in forgiveness but I don't expect I shall ever forgive Rach for leaving it in Nottingham.

I have been forced to borrow a tiny little 30l which quite frankly is smaller than some of the year 7's school bags. I don't think this is right - although I am of course grateful to Eilidh for lending me it, then again - she's never used the thing.

I consider myself to be quite a light traveller - never bring more than you can comfortably carry is a good motto I think. I've just got a few t-shirts, a few jumpers and I guess two pairs of trousers - plus essentials and bathroom stuff. Nothing that I don't need.

But can I get this damn bag to close properly? Noooooo. Sorry Mr Eurohike but I think you're very silly for passing off a bag of this size as a rucksack.

I intend to write to, uh, the relevant authorities with regards to this matter.

xxx

Picnic

Very, very odd poem here. It looks a bit muddled up and round the wrong way to me, but hey - maybe you can suggest what to do with it. Maybe there's not one good line, I don't know.

The rose has a thousand thorns,
One snags on my finger,
I see the liquid seeping out,
The blood drips down from the tip.
We sit down and the grass itches,
Red rashes spread over our legs,
They itch, and we scratch them.
I look up and I stare,
The sky grows dark spots,
Earth begins to swim,
I lose my balance and I'm back on the floor.
Bees flit between our heads,
They land and they sting,
Angry marks upon our arms,
Where nature bites us back.
The drinks are flat,
Our sandwiches are soggy,
Children are screaming,
I want to cry.
Words snag into our soul,
They pull us apart slowly.
We are scratched and scarred,
Gradually the hurt spreads.
Darkness can smother us all at once,
Knock us off course and push us down.
Then some people sting,
An unwelcome encore to our days.
Flattened, washed out and squashed,
No more picnics.

xxx

Tulips

Another new post, before there are any comments on the previous - but oh well. Not at college today and I just watched 'Sylvia' again, so I'm just posting one of her poems - one of my favourites at the moment.

Tulips

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons.
They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff

Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.
My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water

Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage -
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.
I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat

Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.
I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted

To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free -
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.

Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.
Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.

The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.
Before they came the air was calm enough,

Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.
The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.

The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.

xxx

I guess in the end, you start thinking about the beginning

I have had a monumental 'disagreement' with my parents. Let's not go into the finer details but lets just say they are trying to prevent me from doing something which I believe is of benefit to me. Surely if it's going to help me then by extension it's going to help them right? Well apparently not - I must stop 'messing around' and start being the 'perfect daughter I used to be'.

I'm sorry to inform my parents that I never have been perfect, and am now even further away from that unacheivable state. I know that I am a mere 16 years old and I know that sometimes I really do act like an apathetic teenager - but you have to grant me that a lot of the time, I'm not half bad for a mid-teen girl.

According to those so-called 'bringers of wisdom' I am an awful person and the moment and am inflicting my selfish tendencies and 'stupid problems which are non-existent' on most people within a 20-mile radius of myself. So most of Guernsey then.

Now you'd be forgiven for dismissing this as a post-argument rant, but it's more than that - plus that was two days ago. Yes I am still harping on about it. I've not stopped thinking about some things said since that day.

When on earth did the two of them start talking anyway? Last time I knew anything about it they only spoke through lawyers, myself, or loud-hailers in the streets. Next thing I know Dad shows up in the middle of fucking suburbia and stands on one side of the breakfast bar, next to Mum, and I stand on the opposite - not listening to every word yelled at first because usually when he yells he's pissed out of his head and she's suffering with PMT. Not only does he look out of place in stupid suburbia - he should stick to his bloody town house - but if they're going to talk without me knowing, I'd rather it wasn't only to discuss how badly I've turned out.

Which brings me to my title, what the hell went so wrong? I still have a picture of my Mum, my Dad, my first sister and myself - sitting in the garden, smiling and drinking tea (milk in Jemma's case - she was a baby), like nothing was wrong. In fact the bastard had another woman and Mum refused to let him go, refused to admit it - the last family photo I have, is a fucking fake.

Nikita - the Good Student, Consciencious, Popular, Funny, Happy. Well sorry Mum, sorry Dad - that's all a load of shit. I decide what I'm like, if I want a label I'll damn well write it myself.

Thanks all the same

Respect The Elements

Time for a new post I think, I'm sort of out of the 'swing' of writing posts with any hint of coherency so maybe this one'll help me break back into it - I do have an idea of what I'm going to write, if that's any help. So here it comes, from me - sitting on my bed, in my room, eating Starmix. I don't even like Starmix, after the first three sweeties - I'm having a real junk-food 'thing' lately, I used to be so healthy!

I finally watched the conclusion to this series of Lost last night, I borrowed the tape from someone. I was laying on my sofa at about 1am, with the light off - watching Lost. I have to admit that I had to turn the light on at one point because I got ever so slightly scared, plus I'm not a big fan of the dark. I liked lots of parts in it, but I do have a few favourites.

Like when Claire is sitting and crying, the Korean lady comes over and reassures her that the baby - Aaron - will be brought back, because Charlie said that he would bring him back. I think I was just struck at how the Korean lady put her trust - dare I say faith - in somebody because they said that they'd do something. How often does that happen nowadays? That woman was certain that all would be well because Charlie had said it would be - she hardly knew him. That's an awful lot of belief in humans as a whole don't you think?

Then there was the bit when Sawyer told Michael that he had "the patience of a saint". I think it's an example of what impression your character has on another person, whom you hardly know. Michael probably wouldn't have thought very much of himself at that moment, and in the past, but from an objective point of view Sawyer was able to comment on what he saw.
Finally the bit that made me cry. When Charlie picked up one of those false statuettes of the Virgin Mary - filled with heroin. Now I know that he hasn't taken it yet but he had previously given it up - albeit by force - and to see him with it was just crushing. He'd survived weeks without it but when push came to shove, he had to have it - and that made me very sad. Who knows why.

Apologies if you didn't watch/like Lost - the previous paragraphs will have been slightly pointless to you.

Why on earth was I kidding myself? I don't really have anything to say, nothing in particular. I'm not in the best of moods to write anything factual right now.
I'll write something better later, maybe.

aloha xxx

In tones wraught with gravity

Hello there my little twinkles, how've you been?

I'm listening to Damien Rice again and it's really rather odd because I don't actually like the music but it's there in my CD player nonetheless and I'm not flicking to the next disc - the lyrics aren't bad I guess, I've still not figured them out completely though. Before this I was listening to the Eels, which is on loan from Suzi - whom I take spanish with. Well usually we do spanish together but I felt rebellious t'other day and didn't go, I went home two hours early. I know, bad girl - my mum was none too pleased.
Last Tuesday in Core Studies - which I went to for a change - we were being lectured on the progression from AS Level to A2. I've not yet decided whether to drop a subject and just take three on to A2 because it's kinda like I need all the grades I can get - on the other hand I'm not really enjoying Spanish at the moment and don't relish the idea of furthering it to A2, I think I'd drop it and just stick with French. Anyway, I've got a bit of time to think about it yet.
Oh thinking about music, I cancelled my keyboard and clarinet lessons - yes my life is collapsing around me. No seriously, I never practised what I was supposed to - I hated being restricted to playing specific things and at specific tempos and for a specific time each day. So now I play as and when I want to and it leaves much more time for fun stuff like drums, I think I got too involved with organised music and I forgot why I love it in the first place - sure a professional tuition helps understand it but at the end of the day I have a Grade 7 knowledge now and I wanna take it where I choose. I'm still allowed to go to the various bands that I'm in obviously, which is cool - I'm pretty proud of telling my mum I didn't want to go anymore and resisting various people who I'd usually agree with to keep them happy. Oh god am I being selfish?
I'm now reading the school magazine - The Grammalogue - and it's not half bad, we get one every year and they collect material all year round. I've written for it a few times and been in some of the articles about sailing and ski trips, it's always funny when it comes out because loads of random pictures appear that no one noticed anybody taking at the time - the ski trip one is always the best. I'm thinking of going on all the school trips next year (as in year 13) because they really are excellent and it'll be my last chance - this year I can't afford it cos of compulsary language trips.
Whilst we're talking about the magazine I think I'll end by a poem written by the only mature student in our entire 6th form, Gary, who co-runs the poetry club with me and Jason and Grace - because I've a feeling he reads this from time to time and recently had this poem in said magazine. By the way that's mature student as in over the age of 21 - so actually mature in both ways - probably the most emotionally mature too. Before I do though, your funny quote for the week - courtesy of Mr T, my English Lit teacher.

"I once knew a guy who described himself as a voracious reader on his UCAS form - of course he was a pretentious cock"

Smile everyone. Now to finish, the poem.

'That Fatal Attraction' - Gary

Love that fatal attraction
Drawing body to body.
The forces of everlasting love,
Equal and opposite.
The force you push they will push back
The gravitational attraction draws you together,
And hold you preventing apathy.
You love, you push
They do not push back,
Only turn to face another.
This subject so grave,
And yet its truth lies in reality
Unrequited love.
As the thud of rejection holds you firmly on land.
The force of your love is the strength of your refusal,
Always equal and opposite.
The lost loves,
Drifting in space.
You push but there is nothing to push back.
People express with sympathy
In tones wraught with gravity
But then move on, the pull is too strong.
They gravitate back to their homes,
Their lives, their loves,
With their forces,
Equal and opposite.

aloha xxx

Ethical Ponderings

I just had a really good ethics lesson today so I thought I'd let this post masquerade as something with some substance.

Great guy, Lee, proposed a new normative theory based on how easy things were to spell. Basically we were doing utilitarianism - good is that which maximises happiness and minimises suffering - and Lee proposed that given a choice, good is that which is the easier word to spell... That just made me laugh for a while.

Staying with Lee and my teacher's unbelivably laid-back manner, today he came in dressed exactly the same as the teacher and the conversation went thus:
Lee: "Look Mr M I'm your love child!"
Mr M: "I'd say evil bastard child, spawn of satan actually Lee"
Again lots of laughing for while.

The same effect is similar with our philosophy teacher, Miss T, when we were discussing something to do with God, our friend Lee put it that anyone can be a God:
Lee: "Sure Miss but anyone can be a God in something."
Miss T: "Are you implying then Lee that you are a member of the Deity, a God of some sort?"
Lee: "Only in bed Miss T, wanna find out how omnipotent I am?"
*Miss T goes extremely red and giggles*
You'll never guess what, lots of laughing.

That's actually about all I feel like saying now, hope you're all ok.

aloha xxx

PS I haven't written anymore of the story yet, I'll let you see it in a year or five when I get round to finishing it

"Does he make you laugh?"...

..."He doesn't make me cry"

It's not late but it's Friday night and I'm sitting downstairs watching 'crazy/beautiful' because my mum is out and I'm looking after my sisters, only they're in bed. So I'm all alone, really. No one online, no one to call, no one round at my house. I don't like it. In fact this a moment when I want anything but to be alone, I'd choose time with my dad over this.
Coincidentally, dad just rang me. Pissed out of his face of course, just ringing to 'tell me that he really, really loves me'. Sure he does, he wasn't saying that the last time I saw him though. He rang in exactly the same manner yesterday, I guess it's, I don't know what it is. The man is mad.
I'm checking a forum at the same time as this and that's about the only company I've got just now, sorry to go on. I don't fare well on my own in this particular mood. I got two letters in the post today, from job applications I did, interviews. I didn't get either of them surprisingly enough. My job at the surf shop is in jeopardy because it's amalgamating with another store and I shall not have a job, the job on the hotel is slowly destroying me - one eight hour shift at a time.
I got all excited about the post, two interesting envelopes and a bank statement - turns out I'd rather not have read any of them. Also when I signed onto the Internet I had 12 new messages - all of them, bar one, were from some stupid advertising company or another. The other one was a survey. There are 70 new messages in my old yahoo account but they're all from freecycle, my gmail is empty. Yeah, sure, you needed to know all that.
Anyone had that coldy/fluy thing yet? I have it currently and it's annoying me now, tissues everywhere.
So my dad's moving to the mainland, not entirely sure where yet but probably Essex, which made me laugh when he told me. He's been on planning on leaving for years now but he's never quite done it, now it seems that he is. Finally. Not that I really mind, we have an amazingly screwed up relationship and I've tried to help him but he just knocks me back. A lot. I don't often give up on people but I feel with him I have no other choice.
I never gave up with my best friend when she was having trouble with her boyfriend, he got help and now he takes his meds and he's fine. I pestered her all the time to come out with me, not to isolate herself. She got through it, like him, and the guy hates me but it doesn't matter because she's ok.
It's easier to help someone else than talk about yourself, have you ever noticed that? Expect someone else to share their problems but when they extend the courtesy to you, it's harder than it looks. Better to smile, make a joke, and walk away.
Old habits are never in the past, sooner or later you pick them up again and you fail everyone who is trying to help you. Maybe you stop another habit but it's in favour of becoming something that you used to be, do things you used to do, and go to place you never wanted to go back to. But it's lighter than where you are right now. Me anyway.
I realise none of this made sense so I'm going to leave you with the opening to a story I'm writing, well I might write it - I'm not sure yet. This is as far as I've got.

"Somewhere in the dimness of the room a girl sat crying, a soft cry that might be mistaken for singing from a distance. She was crying in this way because she believed that she had reached the end, usually when she needed to cry she couldn't and she would sing instead, fill the room with comforting notes that were different every time - notes that couldn't hurt her but never left her. Now she sang as she cried, she thought that perhaps if she sang then the light might come back because she was as yet unsure as to whether the darkness all around her was in her mind or if it was because the light had been turned off. So she sat singing to herself, the tears making her voice sound ever more delicate and if it was at all possible, clearer than it had sounded in a long time. It was an innocent cry that bought back the innocent nature to her voice, it made her sound like she needed protecting and it made her feel that way too. It made her feel that any moment some strong pair of arms would reach down to her and lift her up, wipe away her tears and hold her until it was over. But no one came to her so she carried on singing a song to try to convince herself that she was dreaming, that she had been dreaming for all these years and she had imagined all the hurt. She sang.
Notes, music notes, were always black and white - you never got technicolour notes. Their monotonal nature meant that they could never lose colour like life, they could be flattened and made sharper but you can never drown them out, music is omnipresent. It is in everyone, everything and it is everywhere. It came to be the only thing that she could rely upon to not change and not be drowned out when her thoughts were too loud for her to speak, a good musician doesn't even need light to make a sound. You can improvise in music, like in life, but unlike life you don't need light to do it and you don't need to be in a good frame of mind. "



aloha

OK?

I learnt something today, maybe the most important thing I've ever learnt in my life.

I never knew that there was a middle way, I thought you were happy or you were sad - I learnt a little while ago that this infact was rubbish and of course there's a middle way.

Another important lesson, perhaps the hardest to stick to, was that my actions affect others. Most things, although not all, will have some abstract effect on someone that we care about. Someone we really care about. Maybe more than one person. As I said though, it's not always the first thing you think of.

My latest lesson? Nothing's impossible. Yeah I know it sounds stupid and cheesy and immature, like an 'inspirational poster' thing to say, but it's true.

You can't be happy all the time and you can't ignore it when you're sad, but nothing's as impossible as it seems.

Smiling doesn't always hurt.

And to my right...

Oh I am in sooo much trouble. I have to catch a taxi daily to another school in order to take part in my Spanish lessons. On a Monday that taxi arrives at 1:50pm. However for some reason unknown to myself, I thought that it left at 2:10pm and have subsequently missed it.
I’m not yet sure what to write about but I’m just trying to keep myself busy and trying to drain out the calling of my revision, Spanish homework and French coursework. I figure if I type fast enough, with as little subject matter as possible, then I might just be able to ignore it for another forty minutes until school ends and I head off to Rainbows. Only problem with this plan is that I will have to attend to all that work later tonight, when I get home, instead of doing silly things like sleeping and eating. Tricky.
So to begin, I will describe the room that I am in. It is the ‘ Independent Study Area’ in the new 6th Form Centre for Guernsey, it’s a new room filled up with old monitors – they do however have quite up-to-date programs on, well everything that an A Level student needs anyway. The keyboards are new…
The carpet is blue, the chairs are blue and the individual screens for each workstation are blue. The desks are a light maple wood and the walls are all painted white, like a hospital. On the wall facing me are two ‘inspirational’ posters, each with very moving quotes about discovery, education etc. To my right there is an office size HP printer and behind me there are two windows facing into the top corridor of the building, and of course the door. To my left there is no wall, it is a large pane of glass and through it I can see the Island Sports Centre, the car park, the netball courts, the rugby field and the top of the main entrance door downstairs. There is a white, round clock on the right hand wall and the blinds are white. There are six other people in the room. How about that for a pointless exercise?
Ok now we’ll do me, describe me that is. I am wearing black trousers, they’re sort of like sweat pants but ‘cos they’re black no one has yet noticed. Also I am wearing a pink jumper underneath a black jumper which has a low-V, which allows the jumper underneath to be shown. My shoes are black and sort of covered in felt, with three lines of pink stitching over the top, near the toe. As usual my hair is down and I washed it this morning so it’s a little curlier than usual. I am wearing no make-up. In the way of jewellery I am wearing a silver ring on my middle finger on my right hand which has a small, four-petaled flower on it and also a silver pendant with a small piece of polished shell in it, which I was given as a Christmas present.
The guy next to me? He’s wearing a grey shirt and a navy blue tie, with a dark blue sweatshirt over the top. His trousers and shoes are black. His skin is quite tanned and he tells me this is because he spent Christmas in Mauritius, he is wearing no jewellery. His hair is dark and quite short because he doesn’t like long hair because, he says, then he would have to brush it…
Well I’m not going to describe the other five because that would involve straining my neck and they might then wonder what I was doing.
I can hear someone playing a rather violent-sounding computer game, which is of course banned.
In my school there are several banned ‘things’. These consist of; computer games, online chat, free email, chewing gum, knives and all other weapons – although not compasses, mobile phones, swearing, obviously dyed hair, make-up, jewellery, sweatshirts, sweat pants, trainers, any socks other than white ones and trousers for girls in years 11 and below. That’s all I can be bothered to list…
I’m having a minor panic because we’ve been told by the education department that the sea temperature is at its coldest this time of year and therefore we are no longer allowed to participate in sailing, while under the supervision of the school. This is total crap because all the private clubs still go out, I still go out and as members of the sailing group we are all prepared to take responsibility for any ensuing pneumonia that may follow a sail. We also promised to stop wearing shorts and t-shirts and start wearing oilskins. But alas no, we’ve decided to go and plead our case with the owner of the Guernsey Sailing Trust, with whom we sail. He’s a nice guy, we can ask nicely. There aren’t really any other games options that I fancy so it’s sailing or the gym for me. And who on earth would choose the gym over sailing?!?!
I’ve just realised what total shite I’ve been typing, so I’ll post this now and forget about it and I guess I’ll have to go attack that pile of homework etc…
Lots of Love
x x x

The Best Awful

Well everyone, I guess it's back into that old routine.
I've no idea what to write, has anyone got any ideas/suggestions/general musings?
Hope you're all ok.
Stay Strong
x x x

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?