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
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
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
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
Monday, February 06, 2006
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
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
Friday, February 03, 2006
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
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
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
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
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
Saturday, January 28, 2006
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
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
Monday, January 23, 2006
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
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
Friday, January 20, 2006
"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
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
Friday, January 13, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, January 09, 2006
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
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
Friday, January 06, 2006
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
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
Saturday, December 24, 2005
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
Lots of Love
x x x
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
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
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
Monday, December 19, 2005
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
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
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
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
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
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Catch Up
Right sorry for not being around for a considerable amount of time, could give you my list of excuses like being ill and busy etc, but they’re just that. Excuses. Totally superfluous I guess, and really a way to pass the time. Which I realise I’ve effectively just done anyway by saying I’m not going to.
I am indeed coming up to Scotland, and I have the booking confirmation right here with me at the back of the language lab at college, yes I should be doing Spanish. I’m coming on Friday 17th February and staying until the morning of the 24th, to Glasgow that is. I hope as many people as possible can get up at least for a day or two, that would be cool, and make up for the shambles that was London in July. Sorry about that again.
I’ve been doing quite a lot of thinking lately, about all sorts of rubbish and getting a little stressed out, not about college I might add – I think I’m pretty well settled into there. But rather about every other aspect of my life, the good news is just now I’m not feeling too bad at all, if I do say so myself. I wouldn’t go so far as happy, but definitely content.
I sunk a boat the other day, well I say sunk but it’s not on the bottom of the ocean or anything – that would have been much more fun, as Keir pointed out to me. :p
Rather we were having a race, girls against boys, learners against intermediates. I had the girls learner boat and Will the boys intermediate. Now we started off in front, got to the start line in time and everything, but then we started to lag. I wasn’t worried since our boat was just learning, but then the boys lapped us. I began to suspect something was amok. I switched a team member for a qualified instructor who informed me that he’d been watching in great amusement for the past ten minutes. The reason? “You do realise your bow is going down?” SHIT, no I hadn’t. I thought it was odd that we couldn’t gybe but I figured that the new girl I’d put on helm had us too close to the wind, but no.
Cue Niki frantically getting to a RIB, securing the boat to the RIB and towing us to the slipway. Then I had to go get the landy because the boat had taken on so much water, we couldn’t pull it up. So I towed round to the Trust and we demasted her and set her over to drain. Twenty minutes later, she is still draining owing to the sizeable gash along her port aft, aww poor ‘Louvre’. So that was an experience. I felt like such a prat, that I’d not noticed that a 14 foot boat was effectively sinking. Yes Niki, you are a total idiot.
That was Tuesday, the first day I felt well enough to sail in two weeks. Bleugh. So apart from that little escapade, I have nothing more to recount.
I’d make a more imaginative post only I’m in Spanish and keep writing down bits of German and Spanish since there are two teachers in here, two classes. And writing in English when it’s the fourth language swimming around in your brain, due to the French music I’m listening to, is not too simple.
Still, in the words of Claude McKay, ‘I shall return’
Take care of yourselves.
xxx
I 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
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Friday, November 04, 2005
The Paranormal
Every Friday in our last period of the week, year 12 have to choose an 'Additional Study'. These range from car maintenance to critical thinking, but guess which one I ended up on? The Paranormal. Needless to say, I wasn't expecting to take it very seriously. Actually I'm not taking it very seriously, well, considering the topic for our first week was astrology - I think it's a fair view. We did a group thing whereby we were all given four sheets of paper and put into groups of four. Then we had to read each one and decide which character description corresponded to who, they were all taken from a book of birthday descriptions - you know the ones that read 'People born on this day are generally...'. Well this post is really just copying down what people born on the 15th June are supposed to be like, what I'm supposed to be like.
It made me laugh for ages actually, I'm not convinced it has a whole lot to do with me but have a read and see if you agree:
These people depend on their charm to get them where they want to go. Thus their principal talents are outwardly directed and involve others. These people must be appreciated for their seductive charms to work. That is, their particular brand of seduction is overt rather than convert. Those born on this day have a way of winning others over to their point of view and then bringing the best out of them. Most people just want to be appreciated; only the least evolved are more calculating and have a hidden agenda. Money may be very important to this type of person.
Being attractive, in a broad sense, is a big issue for those born on this day. If they do not have natural looks, they use their brains to seduce. If that doesn't work, they use their cunning, their speech, or their knowledge of human nature to draw interest. They have a way of making the opposite sex dependent on them, usually by a combination of the above mentioned charm and becoming indispensable. Any manipulation taking place is, again, clearly overt and in no way as underhand as it sounds - the game is usually enjoyed by both players.
These people specialize in knowing people, how they tick, what their dreams, aspirations and basic needs are. Most importantly, they are able to make us of this knowledge. Often people of this type working for a cause or a company can be of great value in attracting the public to a product or service; public relations and advertising seem to come naturally to them. Indeed, any profession involving "baiting the hook and catching the fish" is withing their talens: evangelical work for example.
These people are adept at guiding children, for they understand youthful motivations. They usually make good parents but can have some glaring faults, such as spoiling their children terribly or manipulating them through being alternatively unforgiving and apologetic.
If a club or organization is looking for a fundraiser, they need look no further; if a business depends on getting people into their store, these people will usually know not only how to attract customers but how to make the sale as well. They have an instinct for how far to push and when to back off, and as the years go by they just get better at it. Rarely are those born on this day found pursuing immoral goals, perhaps because it is a pursuit in itself, not the goal that interests them. Most often their charming manner is a delight to those around them. What they really are, however, their true identity, may forever be a mystery not only to others but to themselves as well. More highly evolved people are not locked into the role of seduced, however benignm but remain open to outside influences, perhaps higher forms of consciousness ansd thought.
STRENGTHS: Attractive, Sensuous, Clever
WEAKNESSES: Manipulative, Too Outgoing
I really don't see me in that, which confounds my belief that star signs, astrology and the like - are rubbish.
x x x
It made me laugh for ages actually, I'm not convinced it has a whole lot to do with me but have a read and see if you agree:
These people depend on their charm to get them where they want to go. Thus their principal talents are outwardly directed and involve others. These people must be appreciated for their seductive charms to work. That is, their particular brand of seduction is overt rather than convert. Those born on this day have a way of winning others over to their point of view and then bringing the best out of them. Most people just want to be appreciated; only the least evolved are more calculating and have a hidden agenda. Money may be very important to this type of person.
Being attractive, in a broad sense, is a big issue for those born on this day. If they do not have natural looks, they use their brains to seduce. If that doesn't work, they use their cunning, their speech, or their knowledge of human nature to draw interest. They have a way of making the opposite sex dependent on them, usually by a combination of the above mentioned charm and becoming indispensable. Any manipulation taking place is, again, clearly overt and in no way as underhand as it sounds - the game is usually enjoyed by both players.
These people specialize in knowing people, how they tick, what their dreams, aspirations and basic needs are. Most importantly, they are able to make us of this knowledge. Often people of this type working for a cause or a company can be of great value in attracting the public to a product or service; public relations and advertising seem to come naturally to them. Indeed, any profession involving "baiting the hook and catching the fish" is withing their talens: evangelical work for example.
These people are adept at guiding children, for they understand youthful motivations. They usually make good parents but can have some glaring faults, such as spoiling their children terribly or manipulating them through being alternatively unforgiving and apologetic.
If a club or organization is looking for a fundraiser, they need look no further; if a business depends on getting people into their store, these people will usually know not only how to attract customers but how to make the sale as well. They have an instinct for how far to push and when to back off, and as the years go by they just get better at it. Rarely are those born on this day found pursuing immoral goals, perhaps because it is a pursuit in itself, not the goal that interests them. Most often their charming manner is a delight to those around them. What they really are, however, their true identity, may forever be a mystery not only to others but to themselves as well. More highly evolved people are not locked into the role of seduced, however benignm but remain open to outside influences, perhaps higher forms of consciousness ansd thought.
STRENGTHS: Attractive, Sensuous, Clever
WEAKNESSES: Manipulative, Too Outgoing
I really don't see me in that, which confounds my belief that star signs, astrology and the like - are rubbish.
x x x
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Once in a house on a hill
You know when you see two people so obviously in love, so oblivious to the world, so totally dedicated to each other? They don't want it ever to end and they deserve to have it forever because they have been brave enough to give themselves completely to this other person, give them their entire life and their heart, in the unrelenting hope that the other person will return the gesture. They have been braver than any explorer or soldier or parent or child, because where the heart is concerned, in love, I believe there is no more dangerous position anywhere. You get your heart stamped on and it seems your world falls apart. Giving your heart on a silver plate, your soul, is astounding. I don't care how many other people have said this, I don't honestly think I could do it. I have no expectations to meet my prince or find him if he's right under my nose and be carried off into the sunset, it doesn't happen like that. I don't expect to find that total love or allow myself to have it because I truly to not feel that any guy would feel that so total love for me, ever. I don't want you to say it'll happen someday or I need to give it time, I don't even need to be reminded that I'm only 16. I don't need anything but to say this slushy, moaning crap and get it out of my system. I honestly don't mean to be so closed and protective of myself, I don't understand myself so I could never ask a guy to try and figure me out. Love me unconditionally. It might sound bitter and angry and sad, you might feel the need to feel sorry for me or get fed up with these rants and moans and things, maybe you'll just tell me to shut up and then see me in 10 years time staring dreamily into some guy's eyes and laugh at me, although I hope the last one doesn't come true. Well obviously I hope none of them happen, but hey it's not up to me. I just had to write it down.
Have you ever thought about how false you are with people? Without meaning to sometimes. You've said you were fine when you weren't, said you weren't tired when you were, insisted nothing was wrong when something was. Why though? Why do we guard ourselves so much from people? Is it lack of self confidence? Or fear of rejection? I don't know and I'm not suggesting we go round yelling how we feel, unless we feel like it, I'm hardly in a position to be able to tell people to be more honest about their feelings, just I noticed we all do it at some point.
Have you ever taken a step back and looked at yourself? Maybe through someone telling you to, or a significant event that made you think, or even just reading your old blog posts, like I did. I read the beginning to now, every one. I don't like who I was last July when it started and I can't stand myself now. What's ironic is I'm totally different to just over a year ago, totally. But it seems I haven't altered for the better, I just deplore myself in a different way, I didn't dislike myself at the time but looking back I do, I dislike myself now and I did three months ago. This wasn't meant to sound so self pitying by the way. It honestly wasn't. It was just another pointless musing that I will look back on in a few months time and hate, not that it's going to stop me saying it now.
Another 'Have you ever?' paragraph I'm afraid... I just organised my desktop, have you ever done that? I've lined up all my programs in ordered groups like 'Folders' and 'Media Players'. I have 6 columns with 5 programs in each, aligned in grid fashion. I'm so sad. They used to be all jumbled everywhere, usually in the same places they were uploaded to with the occaisional move if a shortcut was in the way of some aspect of my background picture. I'd like to say that I now feel fulfilled and that my life has gained a new order, but that would be a lie.
Someone I was just talking to just put the phone down with the excuse that compared to The Simpsons, I am worthless. I swear those little yellow people must die, I knew I never liked them and now I know why. It's because I play second fiddle to them in this person's life, seconded by little yellow people. Made worthless by some silly things with spiky hair and strange sayings. I have since been assured, by text message might I add, that it was a joke and of course I'm not worthless. I've been told that I am of course more important than Sky television's decision to brainwash the world with american yellow people, he did sound oddly distracted in the obligatory sorry phonecall though...
I have five books to read this half term and every one of them is for college, would you like to know which ones? Tough I'm telling you anyway... 'Spies' - Michael Frayn - this one is my modern novel for English Literature, coursework.
'KANT - A very short introduction' - Roger Scruton - I won't talk about philosophy and ethics incase Davey's listening....
'ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY - A very short introduction' - Julia Annas - See above ;-)
'Sylvia Plath - A Critical Study' - Tim Kendall - English Lit again, background reading, might actually be interesting.
'Ariel' - Sylvia Plath - Already read this but I like it and it's related to the above study work, for English Lit.
OK so they're not too bad, actually so far the modern novel is the worst one, mainly because I'm convinced it's children's fiction and I'm a little worried as to why out of 'Enduring Love' - Ian McEwan and 'Snow Falling On Cedars' - by someone, my teacher has chosen what is blatantly a child's espionage story. It's not that I think it's too easy or anything...Just not exactly what I would have chosen for an A Level English Lit class. Maybe I'll be proved wrong, I often am...
You know Guernsey is one of the last places in the British Isles where they still pump sewage into the ocean. Guernsey. This island has relied on the sea as its livelyhood for centuries, it still relies on it. Yet we're killing it, we're polluting it with waste. We have no right to do that, no right to abuse something that has done nothing but help and inspire us for so long and continues to do so, even now, after all that we're doing. The politicans say we've no other options. I find that hard to believe. Jersey has other options, Cornwall has other options, Brighton has other options for christssake. We have options. We could make a waste to energy plant or ship it to France as has been offered, a whole manner of other things. But none of them will make Guernsey money, so they're off the agenda. I'm a member of the only action group on this subject in Guernsey, Surfers Against Sewage. Made up of surfers (obviously) we're aiming to put it back on the agenda. I've said my piece.
xxx
Have you ever thought about how false you are with people? Without meaning to sometimes. You've said you were fine when you weren't, said you weren't tired when you were, insisted nothing was wrong when something was. Why though? Why do we guard ourselves so much from people? Is it lack of self confidence? Or fear of rejection? I don't know and I'm not suggesting we go round yelling how we feel, unless we feel like it, I'm hardly in a position to be able to tell people to be more honest about their feelings, just I noticed we all do it at some point.
Have you ever taken a step back and looked at yourself? Maybe through someone telling you to, or a significant event that made you think, or even just reading your old blog posts, like I did. I read the beginning to now, every one. I don't like who I was last July when it started and I can't stand myself now. What's ironic is I'm totally different to just over a year ago, totally. But it seems I haven't altered for the better, I just deplore myself in a different way, I didn't dislike myself at the time but looking back I do, I dislike myself now and I did three months ago. This wasn't meant to sound so self pitying by the way. It honestly wasn't. It was just another pointless musing that I will look back on in a few months time and hate, not that it's going to stop me saying it now.
Another 'Have you ever?' paragraph I'm afraid... I just organised my desktop, have you ever done that? I've lined up all my programs in ordered groups like 'Folders' and 'Media Players'. I have 6 columns with 5 programs in each, aligned in grid fashion. I'm so sad. They used to be all jumbled everywhere, usually in the same places they were uploaded to with the occaisional move if a shortcut was in the way of some aspect of my background picture. I'd like to say that I now feel fulfilled and that my life has gained a new order, but that would be a lie.
Someone I was just talking to just put the phone down with the excuse that compared to The Simpsons, I am worthless. I swear those little yellow people must die, I knew I never liked them and now I know why. It's because I play second fiddle to them in this person's life, seconded by little yellow people. Made worthless by some silly things with spiky hair and strange sayings. I have since been assured, by text message might I add, that it was a joke and of course I'm not worthless. I've been told that I am of course more important than Sky television's decision to brainwash the world with american yellow people, he did sound oddly distracted in the obligatory sorry phonecall though...
I have five books to read this half term and every one of them is for college, would you like to know which ones? Tough I'm telling you anyway... 'Spies' - Michael Frayn - this one is my modern novel for English Literature, coursework.
'KANT - A very short introduction' - Roger Scruton - I won't talk about philosophy and ethics incase Davey's listening....
'ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY - A very short introduction' - Julia Annas - See above ;-)
'Sylvia Plath - A Critical Study' - Tim Kendall - English Lit again, background reading, might actually be interesting.
'Ariel' - Sylvia Plath - Already read this but I like it and it's related to the above study work, for English Lit.
OK so they're not too bad, actually so far the modern novel is the worst one, mainly because I'm convinced it's children's fiction and I'm a little worried as to why out of 'Enduring Love' - Ian McEwan and 'Snow Falling On Cedars' - by someone, my teacher has chosen what is blatantly a child's espionage story. It's not that I think it's too easy or anything...Just not exactly what I would have chosen for an A Level English Lit class. Maybe I'll be proved wrong, I often am...
You know Guernsey is one of the last places in the British Isles where they still pump sewage into the ocean. Guernsey. This island has relied on the sea as its livelyhood for centuries, it still relies on it. Yet we're killing it, we're polluting it with waste. We have no right to do that, no right to abuse something that has done nothing but help and inspire us for so long and continues to do so, even now, after all that we're doing. The politicans say we've no other options. I find that hard to believe. Jersey has other options, Cornwall has other options, Brighton has other options for christssake. We have options. We could make a waste to energy plant or ship it to France as has been offered, a whole manner of other things. But none of them will make Guernsey money, so they're off the agenda. I'm a member of the only action group on this subject in Guernsey, Surfers Against Sewage. Made up of surfers (obviously) we're aiming to put it back on the agenda. I've said my piece.
xxx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
