Loving and leaving

Wednesday is the day I say goodbye.
I will have no mobile, only one number on which you can get me in emergencies - I'll text it to you.
Love you

Yup

Darlings

I'm writing once again from my bed, I spend a lot of time on this bed - in this room, looking around at these things. I've described it to you so many times now you probably have a perfect picture of it in your minds and would never need to come and see it for real.

Today was my first day as an official sailing instructor - and I have the shirt to prove it. I can't say that it was my best day, and really I'd prefer some time when I was content to start teaching children how to love the sea. I got ridiculously burnt and forgot to eat or drink because the idea of being responsible for three 13 year olds was way too much to leave me time to worry about mundane things like staying alive. I'm having to wear sleeves too because I don't want 10-13 year olds who go to school with my sister to see, tell her, tell my mum - and well cause a lot of hassle. So I rigged a boat and sailed it round all day with my instructor shirt, rash vest and lifejacket - and shorts aswell of course. It was 32 degrees down here. Plus it turns out that my charges are far more interested in their hair and flirting with the male instructors (who are very hot, admittedly, but they're a little old for the girlies).

On the plus side when we'd finished for the day all the instructors headed up to the bar, I was in two minds as to whether to join them but I did in the end and had an amazing time. Don't listen to what people say - sailors are lovely people and will only yell at you to FUCK OFF ASSHOLE if you're in their water and causing them to lose time in a race. Sure they drink a fair bit but the majority of them are sweet and funny and amazingly laid-back, which is just what I need this week. No matter how shit I'm feeling, how much I curse the reason for me being STILL alive and how much I moan, I just love the sea. End of.

I mentioned swimming the other day; I took my little sister - Emily aged 6 and 8 months - to her swimming class on Friday and I saw all the teachers there, all the little kids learning how to swim. I went upstairs and saw the qualifying times for the Island Games in 2007, and my old coach walked up behind me - well attacked me from behind - and told me she missed me. I want to go swimming like I used to, five times a week and properly dedicated to it. J and I were chatting after she'd finished tickling me and she reckons I could get those times for the 2009 games, if I started working hard again. It was nice to hear that, sure, but I can't do it - not now. I've changed far too much, not just physically but as a person too, people don't realise how much stress swimming properly brings and I don't want to commit to a three year training program just now. But I will swim more, not five times a week but everytime I go to the gym.

So how am I doing? To be honest I feel like, in the words of Thom Yorke, that "This is fucked up, fucked up" God this guy's depressing...mmm

Never fear...

...when Niki's here!

I am here. I have a lot to write from my three days of thinking. I want to get back into swimming again. I adore the sight of the ferry coming in at 5am. I'm going away for six weeks without Dr H and I'm thrilled. I got my prescriptions for the time away and I'm gonna take them regularly.

I'll write more when I get back from work, working with crazy Sven who is wonderful.

I love you

Condolences

The background picture on my laptop is a shot of three Beneteau First 40.7 Distinction yachts rounding a mark at Cowes Week last year, the one on the left is called Exocet Strike and it is the boat that I did foredeck for in my first ever regatta. We came 7th in that race, in Class 3 IRC, out of 34 boats and it was a pretty good achievement, I think. The boat was beautiful and the crew were the friendliest bunch of 40+ year olds that I have ever met. In retrospect, I ruined that victory. I got drunk that night and judging by the deck of the boat the next morning, so did most of the crew. We stopped at the kebab store. Never a good idea. This year I am going to Cowes and sailing on a Contessa 32 called Blanco and she too is beautiful. I am going without anything sharp and with the serious intention of not drinking. Last night I did drink, but I woke up in the morning and hated myself so much for doing it that I wanted to do something, very detrimental to my health. I cannot stand myself like that. I have realised that drinking=cutting and cutting=drinking. This year will be my first major test because contrary to what any sailor might say, regattas are less about the sailing and more about the local pubs. If I can spend 7 nights babysitting drunk sailors without becoming one myself then I'll give myself a break, no matter how we place in the races. This is my challenge.

I went into college to do the backstage stuff on the Charities Day assembly then excused myself from the rest of the day and came home, I've been laying on my bed for hours now listening to music and thinking. There was ice cream too. I've written so many pages of the joke of a book that I'm writing and so many poems that I think I've knackered my new pen. It's been months since I wrote anything fictional and it's such a relief to get it all out of me, in the open. It's like I've exploded but instead of blood hitting the bathroom floor it's been ink hitting the paper, and I like that. Now it's time to write to you lovely people, sorry...

It's been a week since I took my meds because the prescription ran out and they went out of my system and I saw no point whatsoever in getting anymore, well I fell into that shitty black hole. I just found a ladder. It's rickety and very old but if I'm careful with it you might just see my head pop up above the hole in a while. Anyway I've called up the doctors and I'll go tomorrow to get a new piece of paper and a check-up which I'm technically supposed to go for every six weeks...nothing to do with crazy amounts of pills a while ago... I'm fine anyway, well I hope so! I'll let you know if not.

Oh and good news, three of my poems have been selected for publishing in an NSHN anthology. Yeah I know it's sad that my only moderately grown-up writing is being published in a book created by a bunch of people who used to spend their free time making a mess of themselves, but to me it's sort of a big deal. Hopefully it'll get out there and people can read what it's like to be in someone else's mind - like mine for example. The only way I ever made sense of how I was feeling back in the days when sharp silver was even in my purse was to write in a poem that didn't have to be coherent or a conversation or an argument - and I'm hoping that the book will have a bunch of poems like that so you normal people out there can get a feel for what it's like. Not that I'm saying I think you should experience it - just understanding would be very helpful, for the public at large if no-one else, just so I don't get shitty comments in the gym locker rooms :-p

For now I think I'll love you and leave you

Flooding the school

I hate crying in school

Faster than the speed of sound

Alright not quite that fast, but I did pretty damn good in my driving lesson - if I do say so myself. Drove all the way round Guernsey with only one problem: my apparent aversion to 3rd gear - I always hit 5th. Still, at least we know it works right?

Oh that and the fact I have trouble sticking to the 30mph limit - good job Ian's got a clutch and brake pedal. Oh and also I tend to forget that corners don't last forever and one does have to straighten the steering wheel at some point.

You know what he said? I'm a little too relaxed. Wow. I'm too relaxed - my language teachers said that too when it came to oral exams, is that a bad thing? I mean is it better to be nervous and tense like I used to be? I just figure now that I may as well relax and see what happens - if there's one thing I've learnt it's that I've really got fuck-all say in what happens. Apparently this isn't a good driving philosophy.

Personal what?

Fucking Personal Statement

But despite that...

...I'm still Niki. I know people love me and I know that people care. It doesn't mean I think they're right, but everyone's entitled to an opinion.

I have a driving lesson today and then I'm going out. Which may be a disasterous idea. I'll let you know.

You know that's weakness, not strength, in my eyes

That's right. Weak little girlie here. Or not little. Whatever.

Blah

7th July 2005

I was in London that day, and I know some of you were making your way in on the bus too. The hotel I stayed at was the Thistle Euston and to the left of it there was a minor subway exit, it was through this exit that they brought some of the bodies of those who died.

I don't know why but what happened on this day last year has touched me more than any other disaster or attack I can remember.

I can do nothing to help of course, just like I could do nothing then when it took me five hours to get from Victoria to Euston, all I can do is watch again the faces of people who lost those they loved - this time on television instead of in the streets.

In memory of those who died or were injured, peace.

My darlings; I write to you all from my bed - sitting cross-legged on my bed listening to Alanis Morissette. Yes I have sunk that low. You only start listening to 'Perfect' by that bitter woman when things are really shit. Do not fear though because one way or another, this shit will end - right Abs? I'd quite like to know when so that I might know for how long I have to sit around crying and refusing to get out of bed...but mneh we can't have it all.

I don't really know what to write to be honest - do I ever? I'm looking at my wardrobe which is covered in pictures of holidays with friends, flyers from concerts and regattas, pictures I love and of course my beautiful Jon. I have some of those Edward Monkton cards - you know the ones? We must take our tablets or else we will GO MAD, Happiness Vibes and others... They make me smile. Also there's a card all about hugging and of course the mantra of the moment 'Never mind tomorrow, right now I am ok'

I'm supposed to be reading 'The Shadow Of The Wind' by Carlos Ruiz Zafron but my attention span is a bit rubbish at the moment so I'll put it to one side and read later - good plan I know. My mum is currently yelling so loudly at, I suppose, my youngest sister. I hate yelling, I mean really hate it - even if I'm not the one being yelled at. It just reeks of arguments I used to hide from between my parents. My favourite place to hide was under my bed with Rosie, my rabbit. Nothing could touch us there. Of course now my bed has shoes and books and crap under it and I'm a little too old to run from shouting.

The dark is another thing I don't like. Petrified. Pitch black I cannot do, there has to be some sort of light source or I can't sleep and will probably cry. Yeah I know I'm like a three-year-old but - well it's a long story that I won't bore you all with now, you probably know it anyway. So it's under a week until Charities Day, the committee for which I am secretary for. We have this one day a year when year 12 set up games and shit, plus a huge assembly and raffle etc to raise money for three of our chosen charities. This year it's Help a Guernsey Child, Teenage Cancer Trust and a Guatemalan boy we sponsor through school. On the day I'll be wandering round terrorising young people with an orange bucket, dressed like a Cowgirl and begging for money. I am also on the tech team backstage for all the concerts and assemblies we have going on. It's gonna be manic, hopefully.

Shortly after that it's the final day of term, thank God. Then project week. Then holidays, and not a moment too soon I must say. I'm so ready for holidays. A friend of mine from YE and my RS class has left college to be a nurse, and I'm so proud of her because she was only in school because her parents insisted but now she's applied for the training course, got in, and now has 19 weeks free until she starts in November. Lucky girl. Going for what she really wanted to do, and she's so shy and sweet - I'm really happy for her.

I think I'll shut up now.

Fade Out

Where is my life going? I mean it, what is the point to it now? -This is not suicial-

There is no cutting, no drinking, no vices except sugar... I'm currently a well-rounded young lady. So why am I crying? Why do I look longingly at sharp things? Why do I wish none of you met ever heard of or met me?

Stupid damn pills aren't working

Where the ocean meets the sky I'll be sailing

Hey beautiful people

Mind if I gabble on for a bit? Not sure what I'll come out with but it's Sunday morning and I'm in the countdown to work so I should probably do something with my time to take my mind off it...

So it's nearly the summer, only two more weeks of official school before I push year 7 and 8 into the sea - I mean teach them how to sail - for a week and then I'm free, free! I'm over to the mainland on the 26th July when I'll head straight down to Cowes and kick ass in the regatta - ohh Cowes Week without alcohol...watch this space ;) I'm going short sleeved and fuck whatever anyone else thinks. Then after we've won on Blanco, the gorgeous Contessa 32 I'm racing on I shall head back to Southampton and dump my washing at the house before heading off somewhere else - London, Abs? Obviously I will get more clean clothes - don't worry!

Today Guernsey has brought into being the Smoking Ban - thank fuck - no smoking in public places which is ace because although I adore the smell of smoke, seriously wow, but I guess it's bad for us. Plus I wanna see how the 40-a-day father of mine copes. Also of course there'll be no smoking at work which means the non smokers get the comfy smoking room with sofas! Yay! Not that I get any damn breaks anyway, which is inhumane - 9 hours behind a desk in a pencil skirt and waistcoat listening to stuck-up bastards paying 200 quid a night for a room.

I went out with Rach yesterday before work and I wore short sleeves - I sat her down and she asked all she wanted to about it and then it was ace. No I didn't spend 100 quid... After work in the taxi queue I got puked on which was actually disgusting but it also made me smile because I probably did that once but there I was going straight home from work at 11pm. Aren't I a good girl?

I'm gonna go all shallow now and tell you about how slim I'm getting. I bought three tops last Tuesday in my staple size 16 - I don't try on, can't be arsed with that - and I got them home and guess what? That's right, too big. Fuck yes! They're from all different shops so that's good right? I changed them for smaller sizes and now look ace of course. In true mother fashion my mum is now trying to make me eat more - honestly I can do no right for that woman. Oh well.

At school I started a petition because out of the five vending machines and two cafeterias there are no Fruit Pastilles on sale - I'm getting people to sign if they think we should stock them and I'm doing pretty good. And no it isn't just because I'm the oldest year in the school now and everyone younger is scared of us - everyone needs Fruit Pastilles.

Mother just bought a new car - at last - and has been driving it round everywhere. UNTIL yesterday she realised that she didn't have any insurance and now refuses to drive until she has some - seriously she'd be fine without it, she doesn't go above 25mph at any time. My car on the other hand is very cool, I have my provisional licence now so I can drive if someone comes with me - how scary is that?!

Right now I think I should go and get some breakfast. I wish we had pop-tarts.

Friday at The Guernsey Grammar School and Sixth Form Centre

Hello my friends, how are you all today? I am indeed, well I'm ok I guess. I'm in the language lab doing nothing really except writing this blog to you. I should be doing a presentation on 'Corse' - but instead I am chatting to someone sitting next to me on google chat.

Later on I have a free period but have somehow been roped into being a member of the technical crew, backstage on Charities Day - as well as doing something or another to do with the raffle. Infact I grovelled to all the local shops to get those stupid fluffy teddies for the year 7's to win and attack people on the buses with.

After that I shall of course go to the gym, assuming I survive the bus ride home. I have recently started taking the school bus and it's lethal! I found out that little kids are mean and also even with my mp3 on volume 22 I can still hear them screaming.

Also I found out that my sister has a boyfriend?!?! She's 12! Anyway she has a boyfriend who she sits with on the school bus and if I'm there then he gets off two stops early to keep from walking with me - he lives in our clos. He's scared of me! I have to say I'm kinda surprised at her - not only is she less mature than I was at 12 (thank god) but she also maintained that 'boys are yucky' view until a few weeks ago apparently!

There's no way she's going to his house without me - there's only one thing 13 year old boys are interested in...and it isn't Action Man...

Grr

Ok Abs, drag me out of my little hovel then why don't you? Nah just kidding sweets - welcome back by the way.

I'd talk more if I had anything to say!
All sorts of Uni stuff happening and visits and disasterous outings with father dearest. Back to the grind of college, sitting in my car for fun.

Went sailing today which was ace though.

Uh

Fried Donkey

That is what I am. I don't think I was made for the hot weather to be honest. I'm absolutely boiling.

Off to Exeter on Monday for a couple of days so that should be cool. Well hot but cool because - you know what I mean.

Uhh no other news...

seventeen. dix-sept. diez y siete. sieben.

I am now 17 years young.

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