Starfish

No this post has no relevance to starfish, I just like that word and it's my blog so deal with it! Sorry that was harsh...

Saff actually shouted today because I said sorry too much, Keir too has been known to get a bit frustrated. Yeah so sorry about that.

So what's happening? Not much. Went out on Saturday, it was ok but I hardly knew anyone and possibly ended up dancing to some horrible disco music. I drank lemonade all night which is the worrying thing. So getting home was fun, bloody miles to walk in the dark, and I am afraid of the dark. Still.

Back to college now which no is not exciting or thrilling. But still - sailing is back in my life three times a week and I'm teaching it in a few weeks so all is ok! I can deal with college if I get to go and get soaking wet three times a week.

I still don't know what the deal is for summer - my mum seems to want to see Edinburgh with me which worries me a little... Other than that I need a job for some of the summer I guess since I keep spending money somehow.

I look horrible today. Random.

Love y'all

Even Angels Fall

Just a wee quick post to counteract those yesterday.

It's gorgeouse here, so gorgeous that I don't mind the fact that I've been inside for 9 hours serving frankly quite rude, bad-tipping, tourists.

I'm going out to a party tonight, going out, socialising! No I'm not going to drink...

I hope you're all well and we can chat soon.

Anyone got a spatula...

.... to scrape me off the floor?

*sheepish look*

I could never be your perfect girl

Little moan - yeah I know this has become a depressive shit-hole but this morning I really do not care.

My wonderful mother and father are infinitely 'disappointed' and 'worried' because of how I look. I don't care at the moment.

Are parents supposed to make you cry and refuse food? I guess so.

No pity. No sympathy. Just yell at me or something - might snap me out of it.

And that's just the Philosophy....

Freud 1856-1939

Jung 1875-1961

Emile Durkheim 1858-1917

Max Weber 1864-1920

Karl Marx 1818-1883

Thomas Aquinas 1225-1274

Immanuel Kant 1724-1804

Cardinal Newman 1801-1890

J L Mackie 1917-1981

Ludwig Feurbach 1804-1872

Augustine 354-430

Irenaus 130-202

I have forgotten Anselm and Gaunilo.
I still need to learn these idiots theories.
I have yet to start on the Ethics.

I have 90 minutes.

Leave me alone, I'm lonely

Anyone wanna join me on the kitchen floor?

To love or not to love?

Before you dismiss this as a stupid question - yet another from me - hear me out. The question 'Do you see emotions as a weakness?' was asked on a forum I visit and at first I had an automatic response, but then I read some others and it made me think...

People who never show their emotions - I mean are you guys just machines or what? Ok ok I know I didn't for a long time but lets not bring me into this just now. How, and why, do we hide them away?

People who always let us know exactly how they feel - It's great that you can express yourselves but sometimes you need to work through things in your own mind before asking other's opinions. So how do you so easily spurt it out?

People who claim to have no emotions, show no emotions and recognise no emotions - You're kidding right? I mean of course you have emotions! So does everyone!

Right so I know you can't just lump people into three categories but you get my gist.

I personally, as you know, believe in a soul and I believe that our deepest emotions come from our souls. However I don't believe that all types of emotions can be shared - not due to weakness but simply because it's pointless. There are some things I prefer not to share and get advice on because I think I have a fair hand in causing them - so there's no point in pouring out my heart in explanation if it's my problem/fault/whatever...

What do you reckon? How many emotions should we show? To whom? How often?

Discuss ;)

Can you even look me in the eye?

Apologies everyone for the erratic posting, paranoia and general annoying-ness that has been conveyed via this blog in the past few weeks and days. If you want me to be 100% honest I'll tell you I've been having a bit of a shit time recently - probably mostly my fault I must add - but I'm on the up I think. I'm ready to start the ascent up Everest, maybe happiness will be on the summit. And it'll be a hell of a journey.

Today it was sunny and I decided to wear short sleeves and a new skirt and new shoes, and you know what? I looked pretty. Shock. Horror. I looked presentable. Well there's a first time for everything. (There's a first and a last too but I won't spoil the moment.)

I'm definitely getting off Guernsey for the summer, although I'm as yet unsure as to where I'll be headed after the regatta in Cowes, IOW. I do know however that I'll be up in Scotland at the beginning of September for Uni visits in Edinburgh and Glasgow - so start preparing your shelters...

I'm having a music crisis at the moment too because currently P!nk, Enrique Iglesias and Lucie Silvas are on repeat. I blame it on the general suicidal outlook ;) Which is surely not the feeling they were getting at? Well who knows, maybe it's a global pop plot.

I'm working Saturdays and Sundays now, so between the hours of 7am and 3pm on a Saturday and 2:30pm and 10:30pm on a Sunday I will be Front of House manager. Yes that does mean a pay increase - wow I can't be half bad at this receptionist thing.

I've been going out a lot, to save me from myself lol. Been to see crappy movies and to hang out with Saff and her fiancé - their bed isn't very big though and it gets pretty crowded ;)

Anyway I think I'm out of the woods now, for a little while at least... I know I might have worried a few people but now it's all ok. Well ok in the sense that I think I'll leave my blood in my body for a while and I don't fancy another trip to A&E - my membership's run out anyway :P

Oh and it's 13 days until I'm 17 years old. Heck yes. I'm gonna drive :D - watch out...

Take care, be loved. xxx

Are you alive?

Now call me crazy...

...Actually don't.

But anyway - where are you people? Everyone's disappeared from my blog. Ok so I know it's a leetle bit shite just now - well always. But, but. You used to humour me!

Tell you what you tell me what you want to read, and I'll write it.

Well whadda you know?

This is crazy. Today my horrible 12-year-old sister gave me a book. You wanna know what it's called? "Life's Little Instruction Book"

Sure it's a little lame, it's not so great but my sister gave me a book with '511 suggestions, observations and reminders on how to live a happy and rewarding life'

I am in shock.

xxx


Of course she tried to sit on my head two hours later but mneh...

Kings Crossing

The King's crossing was the main attraction
Dominoes falling in a chain reaction
The scraping subject ruled by fear told me
Whiskey works better than beer
The judge is on vinyl, decisions aren't final
And nobody gets a reprieve
And every wave is tidal If you hang around you're going to get wet
I can't prepare for death any more than I already have
All you can do now is watch the shells
The game looks easy, that's why it sells

Frustrated fireworks inside your head
Are going to stand and deliver dark instead
The method acting that pays my bills
Keeps the fat man feeding in Beverly Hills
I got a heavy metal mouth, it hurls obscenity
And I get my check from the trash treasury Because I took my own insides out

It don't matter cause I have no sex life
And all I wanna do now is inject my ex-wife I've seen the movie
And I know what happens
It's Christmas time
And the needle's on the tree
A skinny Santa is bringing something to me
His voice is overwhelming
But his speech is slurred
And I only understand every other word

Open your parachute and grab your gun
Float down like an omen, a setting sun
Read the part and return at five
It's a hell of a role if you can keep it alive
But I don't care if I fuck up
I'm going on a date
With a rich white lady
Ain't life great?
Gi'me one good reason not to do it(Because I love you)
So do it.

This is the place where time reverses
And dead men talk to all the pretty nurses
Instruments shine on a silver tray
Don't let me get carried away
Don't let me get carried away
Don't let me be carried away


Elliott Smith
From A Basement On A Hill

WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY

Can't I study? I mean I'm doing anything and everything to avoid it - I've watched AWFUL movies, tidied the garage, washed my hair again, eaten chocolate, eaten disgusting microwave food and written a lot of rubbish in a notebook.

I am fucked.

An Ode To Poets

This was written by a guy on a site I visit, it made me giggle - and poets around it's really not meant to offend. As I say I thought it was funny and you know what I'm like with poetry...

Cliché after cliché
And rhyming to make it breezy
Writing poetry is easy
Especially like this about feelings, not cheesy.
Keeping on writing,
About how I’m fighting,
It’s narrative, derivative and delighting
All of you, because it’s “powerful”,“Lovely”,
“I can so relate”,“Myself too I do so hate”.
Life is so black,
life is so bleak,
Knives are fun and cool and sleek;
I’m feeling so bad, so I’ll write it down,
And on my head a poetry achievement will crown.
Because I write well,
About my personal hell,
And it’s so sad,
So mad,
So beautiful, so bad,
When I write poetry about feelings and shit.

So here comes the noose,
Tighter, it will not loose,
My feelings are so sad,
So sad, so sad,
I feel so bad,
So bad, so bad.
So won’t you relate,
To these overly familiar statements of hate,
These overly sentimentalised, cliché and third rate
Poems about feelings
And shit.

A Check-Up

Did I ever mention that I love you guys? All of you who visit here. I just wanted to make sure you knew. Take care of yourselves always.
xxx

A Rest

Do not stand at my blog and weep
I am still here;
I'm only asleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my blog and cry,
I am still here;
I did not die.

x

Self Discovery? Honesty?

Not my idea I assure you, but I thought I'd give it a crack - feel free to dispute or add your own...

I love the way that I...

like to help other people out
can make people smile
stick by what I believe no matter what
stay faithful
always keep secrets
am trustworthy
keep things neat and tidy
know how to wire a plug

I hate the way that I...

am always moaning about something
pester people constantly
am paranoid
treat myself sometimes
can be too needy
am rarely true to myself
get so easily influenced by others
let people do things I'm not happy with
have no strength when I need it
sat down to actually write this...

Postcard from the edge

GCSE Coursework coming up folks, a dramatic monologue. Well a boring drivel - but hey I can do pretentious...

* A girl, about 18, sits in the corner of a bright bedroom *

School was the same, the same as usual. I sat and people talked, occaisionally to me but when I don't reply the questions cease. They're fed up of me I know it, that's why I can't tell them - not all of them, not all of it. I wouldn't expect them to understand, they've not been through the same as me, I've seen enough to kill.

I do get up every morning though, I don't sleep. I was deprived of that basic need months ago, but I lie in bed for hours. They complain how tired they are, but they have nothing on my inpenetratable tiredness.

My grades are good enough, not as good as they used to be but still good - apparantly. I'm not sure how since I've the attention span of a three-year-old and I'm usually totally oblivious to what's going on around me, not that I'm complaining.

I write a lot, I write poetry and short stories and I keep a journal into which I write every thought, every bout of tears and every slip-up, of which there are many.
Saw a boy I used to know today, a boy who knew me. But he left long ago, not that I blame him - maybe he thought I liked having my heart stamped on, maybe he thought that was why people seem to do it to me so often.

* Fade to black *

* The girl sits with red eyes on a beach, it is midday and drizzling*

I went to see him today, just like he asked, just as I should have. I'm not sure why I booked the appointment, talking just seems to make me worse, not that I can get much worse.
He said I was angry, said how sad it was for a girl of my age to be so angry, well - that made me angry, being called angry. I'm not angry anyway, not as much as I am sad, anyway.

I didn't say much, I never do. It's easier to let him smile his pitying smile at me and tell me how I'm feeling. I told him about my poetry and he recited a quote, 'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance'. I feigned indifference but actually, I kinda liked it.

The appointment triggered me off of course, I knew it would, I did it again. Made a terrible mess all over my pink top, but I felt better afterwards. Not so lonely while it was in my hand, not so alone.

I have a headache, I think I'll take some asprin, washed down with something to make me sleep, for a while.

* Fade to black *

* The girl sits in the corner of a bare white room, dressed in a grey gown, pale-faced *

They found me. Lying there in that disgusting state. I didn't want to be found, I wrote poems for them all to read. I only wanted the headache to end, the pain to end, the end.

* The girl sits on a sunny beach surrounded by friends *

It ended, of course. They still don't know. Anything. But I do, I know an awful lot more than I thought I did.
I talk now, too.

Nikita

Hey Nikita is it cold
In your little corner of the world
You could roll around the globe
And never find a warmer soul to know
Oh I saw you by the wall
Ten of your tin soldiers in a row
With eyes that looked like ice on fire
The human heart a captive in the snow
Oh Nikita
You will never know anything about my home
I'll never know how good it feels to hold you
Nikita I need you so
Oh Nikita is the other side of any given line in time
Counting ten tin soldiers in a row
Oh no, Nikita you'll never know
Do you ever dream of me
Do you ever see the letters that I write
When you look up through the wire
Nikita do you count the stars at night
And if there comes a time
Guns and gates no longer hold you in
And if you're free to make a choice
Just look towards the west and find a friend


Ok so I don't like Elton John. I am not a pretty russian girl. But I am called Nikita...

Things like this

When your friend calls to check you're ok
When someone hugs you for no reason
When a stranger smiles back
When you're told that you're loved
When the sun shines in the morning
When you hear your favourite voice
When you get a message from someone you thought didn't care
When you can say "So what?"
When your favourite song plays on the radio
When you find out that you're not alone

It's things like this that make those tears worthwhile

Oh how times change

Nikita Elizabeth Le Sauvage - Age 8

Happiness is...

Happiness is going to my dads on Saturdays
It is sitting down with my dad watching my favourite video
Happiness is cuddling my mum
And huddling up against my dad on a Saturday night
Happiness is opening presents on my birthday
Feeling my cuddly bunny next to me in bed
Eating my favourite food on my birthday
Knowing my mum and dad love me
Happiness is going to see Erin my little friend who is two
And giving Erin a cuddle

Niki - Age 16

Happiness is...

Happiness is sleeping late on a Saturday
It is avoiding my parents for an entire week
Happiness is hanging off the side of a boat
And walking along the beach
Happiness is the company of friends
Feeling someone's arms around me
Eating ice cream
Knowing that I'm never alone
Happiness is the thought of escape
And never coming back

Nothing stays the same people
xxx

Time for films...

Oh dear, I seem to be onto something with these lists - yes I know they're literary suicide but I'm clutcthing at straws a little here and it's all I could think of doing. So we shall commence, this time with my top ten favourite DVD's - they have to be films I have copies of or else it'd take me years to compile a definitive list. In fact I don't think I could get it down to just ten... Once again these are in no particular order.

1. Lost In Translation

I've read a lot of reviews about this film, some singing its praises and others just being downright mean but I think there's something about it that just, clicks when you watch it. It's that sense of being surrounded by people and still feeling lost and alone, I think everyone knows that feeling on some level - and it's being in a big city that scares you. Plus of course Scarlett Johanssen is beautiful. (No Keir, I am not a lesbian...)

2. Crazy/Beautiful

Yes it has Kirsten Dunst in it. But I still like it. It's cute, no matter what some people may say...

3. Loch Ness

My favourite film of all time. No more needs to be said.

4. Donnie Darko

Everyone has seen this film, how can everyone not like it?

5. Sylvia

Devastating, beautiful.

6. The Perfect Storm

One of the few Hollywood films without a happy ending.

7. Top Gun

Yes it's sad, but it's a classic.

8. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Very strange, but I love Clementine's hair.

9. Romeo and Juliet

Amazing adaptation.

10. One Fine Day

Again it's sad, but it's got George Clooney in it...

xxx

Read children, read

Right, well I'm in a list making mood and since I have previously compiled my top 10 albums (although they have changed) I shall now do my top ten books. This time they are in no particular order, just ten books which I have read and enjoyed, and am now recommending to you if you have not read them. I shall begin.

1. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

Well a book list wouldn't be a book list without this title in it would it? This is Plath's only novel and was originally published in 1963 under a pseudonym. It's just as bitter and remorseless as her last poems, only it's longer and I think it's an excellent prose - not many writers can keep a hold of their style when making a transition between poetry and prose. I must say though, if you read it you may well understand why her death followed shortly after she completed the book - some writers say not to write about what you know but I've never stuck to that and neither did Sylvia Plath. I shall say it frankly, her life was dark and her writing is dark.

2. Knife Edge - Malorie Blackman

This is supposed to be the sequel to 'Noughts and Crosses', a book which I have not read and I have to say that did not put me at a disadvantage when reading this book. Again a stirring read, one that might even make you cry in places - but also frustrating as the novel ends with unanswered questions, questions left to answer in the next book 'Checkmate'. It's about racism really and the struggle to break the barrier between different ethnicities, it's powerful despite being recommended for 14 year olds +.

3. The Best Awful - Carrie Fisher

I bought this on a spur of the moment at Portsmouth ferry terminal and expected it to be trash - most of those books you grab on the way to catch a connection are - but I was pleasantly surprised by this one. It actually attempted to tackle real human emotions and disorders, without being too jokey towards them. Despite this it is set in Hollywood and it does centre around a famous single mother trying to bring up her young daughter whilst coping with Manic Depression, so this brings it down a little bit - but still worth a read if you're bored I'd say.

4. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest - Ken Kesey

I've not yet seen the film so I can't compare it to the novel but I can say that I really, really enjoyed it - even more so on the second read when I grasped it better than the first time. It's a tough one to explain and I expect most of you have read it or seen the film so I'll just put it on here because I loved it so much. Oh and if you ever get the chance, it's good in Spanish too...

5. Long Way Round - Ewan McGregor & Charley Boorman

When I saw Ewan McGregor's name and face on the cover of this book I cynically judged it as a publicity stunt, I expected it to be full of actor-talk and mindless conversation between the two friends. I was wrong. The book takes you through every step of the journey made on the BMW Adventurer motorbikes (I can't remember which series) and every problem and honest feeling encountered, obviously written about at the time by both men. Maybe I sound silly but it was like reading the story of two people discovering themselves.

6. Girl, Interrupted - Susanna Kaysen

Basically I read it the first time when I was having a pretty bad time and I identified with it, some of the characters in it - the feelings in it. It's the story of 18 year old Susanna Kaysen who had a session with a psychiatrist she didn't know after a suicide attempt, and taken to McLean hospital to be treated for depression, from there on it's a true record of life inside a mental hospital. It's funny and it's sad, it's frank and it's full of questionable - is she really crazy or just interrupted? As Susanna says; "Sometimes the only way to stay sane is to go a little crazy."

7. Enduring Love - Ian McEwan

Anyone who did English Literature for A Level last year or the year before or whatever will be quite familiar with this book, it's not on my syllabus - I merely read it because I wanted to and because I watched the film when ever so slightly tipsy and it sobered me up so quick I wanted to read the real story. I really loved it, I loved the style and I loved the story. It's about two men brought together as observers of a tragedy and one of the men's obsessive and possessive personality towards the other. Slightly disturbing, but genius.

8. Prozac Nation - Elizabeth Wurtzel

It's the opinion of many that this book is only one to read if you are, or have been depressed at some point - not necessarily diagnosed - but in a dark place for more than a few days. I do not subscribe to this view. I see this book for what I believe it was intended, as an honest portrayal of our culture today and, particularly America's, reliance on therapists and 'happy pills' to get us through a tough day. It brings back the truth of people who may actually need help and how SSRI medication has become just like being subscribed antibiotics for a chest infection. Interesting.

9. Escape - June Oldham

Ok so it's a teenage book, but it's quite a difficult one to grasp. It's marketed for girls as the main character is a female, but I think guys could read it too - maybe not, but hey. It's about a girl in the last year of her A Levels trying to escape from her father, whom she lives with and is abused by. It's about being incapable of opening up to someone who loves her, it's about her running away, it's about her trying to be independent, it's about facing her truth. I guess it's about escape.

10. Taking On The World - Dame Ellen MacArthur

I just admire Dame Ellen, so this first book written about the first years of her life and of her sailing career is an inspiration to me. It's written totally by herself, without the aid of a writer and it's starkly upfront about all the problems attatched to sailing solo around the world, and anywhere in fact. It's not a novel I know, but I do love it.

So get reading...

Espana

Gotta love Spain

Smile

Everybody smile. Today is good, tomorrow may be better...

Stay safe while I'm in Spain.

xxx

Home

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.