Forever

Forever. I love that word, and at the same time I detest it; forever is how long people claim they will love you for, forever is how long you have to live with your past. It’s really just for and ever stuck together; conjugated to make a lovers word, a mourner’s word and a liar’s word. ‘I love you yesterday, today and tomorrow; I love you forever’; how many people have heard that and have believed it? It’s kept people going through their lives which bring them nothing but shit which they try to pass off as sacrifice for the ones they love; try to call it soul-making. Forever starts tomorrow but no-one knows when it began or when it will end, we have no reason to believe it will ever end and everyone’s forever began on a different day. Forever is like a promise which won’t necessarily be kept; it’s the type of promise which provokes the beast of cynicism who thrives at weddings and at engagements. If you have a bad memory; like the day someone you loved died, it feels like something inside of you has died when really something inside of you is being born; it is the ghost of forever that will haunt you from now on. Perhaps you have a trait, an addictive personality; that will be with you forever; forever will peer over an alcoholic’s shoulder as they order a glass of fruit juice, forever will taunt the drug addict as they walk past a forbidden alley. I have things that I will be forever, things that I will remember forever, and ghosts that I will try to erase from the grey shadow of my soul, forever. But forever isn’t something you can succeed at; you will stop being loved in quite the same way, your memories will never be forgotten, your lies will always be there in the mind of the person you cut down. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. It’s an eternal promise and an eternal curse; it’s inescapable and elusive at the same time. I will live with what I have done to people, forever; and they will live with what they have done to me. I will wish my past away, forever, and whatever I do tomorrow will be done not with this in mind, but with a will to make forever a better place in my mind; a place which is dark but with shining stars, rather than a place which is dark and absolute. Not everything is forever, of course; or else where would the lover and the liar be? I will have scars, and make scars, forever; just like you, but I won’t want them to get lost in the quagmire of forever – some days I’ll want them to be there forever, as a reminder, but some days I’ll curse the forever and curse my skin and my heart and my mind. I will love the sea forever, I will be afraid of the dark forever; I will love not only calm seas and I will be afraid not only of the darkness in my mind but the darkness all around, and the darkness in rough seas.

On that note...which was definitely an E Minor chord

Meaning that if the last post were to have its very own chordI suspect it would be E Minor; favoured by violinists the world over...

Anyway someone's, thankfully, put down the violin and it's time for a bit of sax I think. A bit of reflection; a bit of Jazz. Not too upbeat, but not down in the gallows either.

In these times of blog identity crisis I would be thankful of any ideas/thoughts/suggestions/roses thrown in my direction.

aloha

Not forgetting...

This is just a quick revelation to chuck out there. It seems that this blog has fallen into a sort of inescapable pit; by that I mean that my life is no longer being documented whilst my mental health, or lack of it, seems to have taken precidence. It struck me, therefore, that I should stop being such a self-centered 'ikkle gurl' and perhaps focus on some more open topics that mean more to some of you. So I call a rest to documenting depression and self harm, because they are only part of me; not ME alone, and because someone once told me to never write what I know... Although he was drunk...and an Irish sailor...

J'ai besoin d'une etoile

I need to write. I haven't written any fiction at all this year. I know it's only January but that's a long time. Judging by the appalling grammar in the previous lines I'm guessing I've forgotten how to, too. I get paid tomorrow - I've been broke all week. I kept paying for stuff and taking money out, I never realised none was going in... Work had 'forgotten' to pay me for three weeks. Bastards. That's about £550 - and I need it! I owe money to everyone...for Ribena and chocolate and cigarettes. I guess now would be a good time to give all of those things up but damnit I don't want to. If I have to take meds every morning I'm sure as hell gonna make the rest of the day better and right now those three things are doing it. And the gym. And rowing. But not for the past two weeks because I'm a lazy sod using depression as an excuse. So prepare for reports of a coronary when I go back to training next week.

There are so many thoughts running through my head but I can't quite conjugate them into coherent sentences; I want to say so much but at this rate I'll still be saying the same when I'm 25. Incidentally I'm fed up of being 17. I don't feel 17 at all. According to the law I can't drink or smoke and I've only been legal a year... If only they knew...

I need another change I think; different hair again and different clothes. Maybe I just need to be a different person. A different Nikita Elizabeth. I tried to go a bit more quirky but to be frank my hoody is far too comfy and if you male population think that's lazy - damn straight it is. I suppose there's a limit to how many times I can change. Either way I'm running low on clothes - I'm not a high street kind of person. In fact I'm not a shopping person. I hate it. My mother thinks I've failed as a girl; she probably thinks I'm a lesbian too. She worked tirelessly to make me more elegant - I'm just not made to be elegant! Maybe I don't want my hair straightened or heels on my shoes. Sometimes, like today, I wear a skirt and heels and jewellery other than my staple bracelet and shell on a necklace; I wear a lower cut top. I like to be able to choose. I like that yesterday I wore trousers and a hoodie with Vans and today I'm wearing a black lacy skirt and green top. I like that I've no idea what I'll wear tomorrow until I roll out of bed 10 minutes before I leave. I like that if my life has taught me nothing else so far it's taught me not to give a fuck what other people think. If I did then who knows...I might still be crazy lady.

blank and black

The past two weeks have been tough. So tough I found myself writing to my psychiatrist and him phoning me to check I was actually still alive - I haven't been to an appointment in a while. Somehow depression has found me; this is not a few bad days or an emo cutting-crazed fortnight; this is depression. This is laying on my bed for hours not conscious of anything around me. This is bursting into tears anywhere, anytime, anyplace. This is methodical self harm. This is niki not going to college regularly, and not being there when she does. This is despair.

When I am really depressed I will not text, will not call - will not make any voluntary contact with the outside world. When I am depressed I conceed that I still need that medication and I take it desperately needing it to work. When I am depressed even obsessive compulsive whatdoyoucallit pales into the background. When I am depressed there is nothing on my mind; it is full and it is painful but I cannot see what it is. When I am depressed I am neither relaxed nor tense but caught in some superficial net.

I do not want sympathy. I do not want to be judged. I do not want a hug. I do not want to be.

Pulsing through my brain...

It is an absolutely gorgeous evening here and I’m sitting on the Reception of a capitalistic hotel with the door open and the sea breeze just gently fluttering in. The large gold curtains cover the effects but the vase of pink lilies is ever so discreetly waving at me from their perch by the telephone. I can hear the comings and goings in the port, I can hear the occasional car and a strange melange of people getting home and going out; making use of that last bit of their weekend. It is evenings like this which mellow me; there are still some birds awake but the hotel is silent apart from the odd creaking floorboard or slammed door. There’s an indefinable air of contentment; like no matter how many people are arguing all over the island still everything is well right now.

Evenings like this; when I’ve nothing more to do but observe said comings and goings whilst reading ‘The English Patient’, make me feel that really it’s not so bad to be living. I have faults, like everyone else, but I’m probably not inherently evil. And sure I take a blade to myself sometimes but perhaps that’s just what I have to do right now in my life; there are worse things – I could be doing crack or drinking but at the moment I don’t crave either one. Every single person in the world has scars – whether they be visible or not, it just so happens that mine are but they’re surely a testament to what I’ve dealt with?

Nobody has a perfect life; everyone could, at some point, sit down in front of a therapist and say “Well when I was a child…” Is that going to solve anything for them? No of course it isn’t. I’m not saying that everything’s down purely to brain chemistry but blame never got anyone far in their soul. Right now I may be ill, in some abstract way, and there are things I will have to confront. But I have today and I have tomorrow and probably a bunch more days after that with which I can make things better.

This isn’t to say that I’ll never beg someone not to leave me because I’m afraid of that big pack of codeine in the bathroom, or the implements in my wardrobe. There’ll be days, of course, when I’ll cry without any sign of stopping. There’ll be weekends when I slip into a strange idea that alcohol will make it all better. But all of this will pass – seventeen and a half years has to be some sort of proof of that…

Has no-one told you she's not breathing?

I have been pestered to write a new blog; so here it is. (Although really Jon sweetheart to have a say in my blog you have to actually comment…) I’m really not sure what on earth to write; I’m at home in the middle of the day because I can’t go to school. Well I can, but I can’t. I should go but I can’t quite make it through the day – yesterday I skipped it all together but I went in for a while today before I came home to bed. It’s pathetic, I know it’s just I don’t really know what to do. I know I have to pull myself together but what the fuck do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past two or three years?!

Next week I have re-sits; Spanish which I no longer take, English Literature (namely Chaucer) and an Ethics paper – the subject of which has escaped me. I got Bs in all of them except the Spanish, which doesn’t even matter anymore, but at least I’m not sunk when I fail them.

Last night I spent a long time looking into my own eyes – have you ever noticed how rarely you do that? I stood and I stared, and then I ran. I ran as far as I could then I walked as far as possible; I walked to the ferry terminal and sat for a while, then I decided against it and walked to Castle Cornet. I stared for a while at the markings out at sea, then turned and walked home in the rain. I live in a tragically selfish little bubble, but at least it’s not my dad’s achingly decadent life. Incidentally last Wednesday I had a little run-in with him – one day I promise I will learn to handle him.

I met a girl I used to know at school the other day; she goes to a private college now but we used to be rivals – the first to finish the school reading scheme, the first to pass our music exams, the first to be a hall monitor – it was all friendly though. She has an offer from Cambridge and one from Yale, to do law of course – she’s not changed, just her successes have grown. Me? My offers are for French and English – real academic… They’re at mostly average unis, the ones I have chances with anyway, and ABB is optimistic for me. I’m skipping school and cutting myself; she’s taking 6 A Levels and looking at me piteously. It’s strange how things turn out. How people change.

It’s exactly a year ago today, the 10th January, that I tried to kill myself. I was lying in hospital wondering why they hadn’t left me to die, this time last year.

Wow; this blog used to be called CrazyCapers – it used to be pink and my biggest dilemma used to be which Clinique moisturiser to take on DofE. Look at it now – it’s black and I have red stripes. I should’ve made a new blog when it changed names; read the archives from 2004 and see if you can spot me in it. The me of 2007 I mean, the Niki, the failure – the depressing little teenager! I should go.

New Year, Same Shit

First, before this post goes downhill I'd like to thank bj, laura, katie and dana for their comments on the previous post - thanks guys for caring enough to jot a few thoughts down. Be kind to yourselves.

Now the real stuff of this post. I'm sorry you guys - someone said to me that this blog was attention seeking and I got a bit defensive but you know what? It is. I need people to be there - want you all to say that I'm right and that I'm doing what I need to do. I need to be needed too though - that's why my phone's always on. I want people to need me and I get paranoid when they don't, wrong as it sounds that's the truth. At the same time I'm not a person who can cope with being on her own - I can't do that. I end up tearing myself apart and just crawl into the corner next to my desk or sit down in the high street and bawl..

Last year I vowed to get a hold of myself, stop hurting myself and stop drinking so much. Have I acheived any of this? No. Of course I haven't - what do you think I was doing last night? So I'm not even going to make targets for 2007 because I won't get any closer to realising them - probably I'll get further away, as I have done last year. It feels right now that I'm being crushed by something but I don't know what, people keep walking over me and leaving me which I know is my fault but I never force anyone to talk to me, and I never leave anyone that I love.

I'm thinking of finishing with the whole education thing - to be frank it's all going tits-up and I'm not sure I can handle the failing of exams. It's a decision I have to make anyway, and I'm not sure exactly what to do about it. No doubt I'll let you know.

I once thought I was quite a levelled young lady who could handle whatever was thrown at me - of course that was when I was 12 years old and really more like a 30 year old. Now I'm 17 and I know that there are no certainties, I know that each day could either lift me up or drop me. I know that I can praise myself or drive myself into the ground but it doesn't make me feel better or in control, it makes me feel vulnerable and even though I vow never to let anyone look after me deep down I think I need it - I just never let anyone get close enough. Maybe I never will, maybe I'll always drive people away when they care.

This is a mess, like me. I have nothing profound to say, no poetry to spout just a long date with my car and the beautiful vistas of Guernsey.

Sleep tight

End of Year Report

I’ve been threatening you all with this post for some time, or at least I’ve been threatening myself with it. I’ve been filling ‘www.nikitaelizabeth.blogspot.com’ with utter, utter crap trying to waste time and keep it going but really it only half succeeds as a blog when there’s an actual substance to what I’m writing. I’ve pretty much decided now that wherever I end up in my life I want to be writing – I don’t even care what I’m writing so long as I’m not sitting in a bank for 40 years wishing I weren’t there. If I’m sitting in an office writing though, I think I’ll manage. If I had any talent I’d say I wanted to be a writer; but the fact is I don’t. And even if I did I don’t think I could discipline myself enough to use it – so instead I’ll settle for something that just involves writing.

I guess I should broach the topic of Christmas; since this’ll be my last post before the blessed event. I know it’s tired and it’s almost a post-modern cynicism now but I don’t like Christmas. I respect its meaning but I don’t enjoy the family side of it, the pretending that everything’s ok when really it’s so far from that. I’m not saying that I don’t have fun – I go out with my friends and I catch myself sometimes feeling very blessed. The simple fact is that I can’t approach Christmas without memories of drunken arguments with my father and his former lovers; police interviews and collecting him from the cells on Boxing Day. Walking through St Peter Port on 26th December to collect your Dad from prison somehow sticks in your mind, along with the fights the day before. I feel as though I’m treading on increasingly thin ice each year when the 25th rolls along I almost can’t breathe with the wondering what’ll happen next – if he’s ever caught drink-driving again he’ll be facing long-term prison. It’s just a lot to think about when society is trying to stuff turkey down your throat.

I meant to write about music in this post; some of you may remember my previous music post and I was surprised to read it and find that my tastes had yet again changed. There’ll always be songs which stick with me of course; Leanne Rimes “Can’t Live Without You” was playing the first time Dad ever lost his temper. Keane’s “Bedshaped” was playing when I made that first cut. They’re all songs I can’t listen to without associating their respective events, but they’re songs I have to listen to sometimes. Everyday music though is now indefinable for me; I listen to Pink, Simple Plan and Razorlight. Then I might switch to Jeff Buckley, Johnny Cash and Joni Mitchell. Sometimes I need Nine Inch Nails, Manic Street Preachers and Radiohead all on the same day. Maybe even Miles Davis and The Clash – my point is that I don’t have favourites anymore. I’m not sure how many CDs there are now kicking around in the glove compartment of my car but I know that my shelf is looking pretty empty; so I’m guessing that most of them are hiding in Fifi.

This is a time of reflection, I think. I’ve got to the legendary point in school where I feel I’ve outgrown it and there’s no more motivation to be found – even though all of my University offers are conditional and I really need to work if I have any hope of succeeding. I have to study for these re-sits in January and then I have to shut down the rest of my life in favour of A Levels starting in April.

On a brighter note; I’ll be diving all over the mainland in March so if you live in Exeter, Hull, Leeds, Glasgow, Edinburgh or Aberdeen I may well be begging for loan of your floors and sofas *niki smiles sweetly*. Also I want to dye my hair again; what colour do you think I should go for? Anything but blonde will be considered. I’m getting back to my old size now too because I have cast aside the gym and started eating properly again. I’m just going to have to accept myself as I am because it’s too much of a battle to be someone else; so long as I’m physically healthy I figure everything must be fine with me. I’d still like a tattoo but of course I shall wait until I’m well clear of Guernsey; I do value my life enough to not want my mother to murder me.

Did I tell you that I’m a prefect now? It’s quite sad how excited I got about it; I forgot to hand in the application the first time but I helped out at our presentation day and got to be one because Mrs I said that I deserved it… I know there are loads of prefects but I like, in some perverted way, to feel like I still have a little credibility left. I used to be good at things; like music and school, but things changed and my life stopped being just about school and swimming and music. Another life got in the way and it put me off course; I haven’t sailed properly since Cowes either. Hence being a prefect in year 13/upper sixth/S6 kind of means something to me.

It was my second anniversary on the 10th December. Over two years of scarring my body. I know; I’m a fruit loop. Slowly though I am repairing my skin more than I am damaging it; of course I still have moments of weakness but by and large it’s only every week or so – which, trust me, is an improvement. When I went out to the staff Christmas party the other weekend I even went sleeveless; I know that it was dark but it was kind of a big deal because no-one I work with knows anything about my vampire-esque alter ego… You don’t get many receptionists like me heh.

For now I shall have to leave you, because I am tired and need as much beauty sleep as I can get.

One by one
Day by day
Inhale, exhale
That’s the way

Nothing

I remarked in the refectory on Friday that I had a strong suspicion that I was a nothing. Rachel then proceeded to poke me furiously; which made me protest - thus she concluded that a nothing could not protest.

I think she may have missed my point.

It should be noted that I have discontinued the taking of prescribed anti-depressant medication; thus those who know about that sort of thing should bear in mind that I'm all over the shop! Dr H was not impressed with my plan.

As it stands I am feeling slightly odd, and not at all good. I'm so moody. One minute I'm fantastical and the next feel like driving into a wall...

It's a mystery

"What is this quintessence of dust?"

That's right I'm studying Hamlet in English Lit. We never do upliftting reads no; instead we get Death of a Salesman and All My Sons and Spies..

So go on what is man to you - just dust or a little bit more?

This, this is what I have been missing

I have finished my three late shifts in a row in the most spectacular of fashions.

It was the work party last night and it was a free bar.

Since the 12th May 2006 I have been sober.

That is no longer the case.

I feel this morning very unwell and disappointed in myself.

But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.

That's really what's it's all about isn't it? Life, I mean.

Keeping quiet and going with the flow. Dealing with things and moving on.

Just had to share that quick revelation on from my mobile

au revoir

No!

No! My laptop's broken and I've duly taken it into Guernsey Computers to get fixed. Well I took the case in, without the laptop, then had to go home to retrieve the actual machine.. But anyway.

£25 just for it to be looked at - then God knows what it'll need doing to it after that - it was pretty ill.

But the most heart-breaking thing? I was half-way through backing up my hard disk when it died. Therefore I have not managed to copy anything over. Not my book, not my poetry portfolio, not my coursework. Nothing.

It's gone, all gone...

If only I had done that backup as I went along and not left it until it was obviously too late.

Can you tell I'm bored?

It's a disgrace I tell you. I've had three hours of free period. I have two pieces of coursework due in by the end of this week. Would it make sense for me to do them? Yes of course it would but that doesn't mean that I am... I never claimed to make sense!

Instead here's another picture of me looking like a boy, making bread in Caen - he made me get a lot closer to that damn oven I'm telling you. I have a strange thing with ovens - they scare me.

Anyway that was all. I've fixed the comment thingy now so...well leave one if you like.

Missed you

Niki? Oh she's over there in the corner

I'm sorry. Last week and this week were a bit dramatic and I was in an extremely strange place - hence I left the blog (and my life) for a little while to make sure I didn't offend, annoy or argue with anyone - because I wasn't myself anyway.

Today I woke up a little brighter and I got showered, dressed and ready for college for the first time in a while. I drove to college with trepidation and nearly changed my mind when I got to the front door. But I didn't turn around and scuttle back home, I carried on walking.

I got an offer from Glasgow today, and an e-mail from Edinburgh. I've had my subject reviews and got a bit overcome with all that but instead of following my usual self-destruct method I went to the help office, like I was advised, and took a few minutes out.

I have to learn how to pace myself, and stay calm. I have to learn not to get stressed and get myself in danger - I've got to stop calling people if this happens! Somewhere along the journey through seventeen years something got mixed up and started firing to the wrong neuron or something, but instead of flying off into the deep end I'm gonna take a few deep breaths. This is not to say of course that I'll stop moaning to y'all and going all loopy - I can't promise that!

Another target is to stop being selfish and difficult - have you ever noticed how many times I use the word 'I' in every post? It's a lot trust me and that's got to change. Get over yourself Niki!

There's a lot more to say but I'll leave it here and get a few reactions.

Thanks x

...

Blog is dead until further notice

Against the tide

Isn't this a beautiful picture? It's of the 'Endeavour' coming in to St Peter Port harbour on a beautifully stormy day in the Bailiwick. It's battling against the wind and the spray and the tide - now if you replace those elements with my mind, that's what I'm doing. Imagine how that ship would feel, if it could, having to push forwards through all that. That's how I feel only my battle is against depression and I'm trying to get up every morning and smile at people. 'Endeavour' did make it to her berth though, and she sat there calmly until the storm was over. As shall I.

I was part of the Rememberance service yesterday morning at the top of Smiths Street, it was a very moving affair and I found myself not only contending with the cold, but also fighting back tears. I stood to attention for an hour or so and I complained; the men who fell in the war endured horrors, and never once complained - there's a lesson in there somewhere.

I'm at college today though really I want to be in bed, I went to work yesterday when really I wanted to be in bed. I know they say that hiding away solves nothing but for me it really does - a few days hiding and I can come back right as rain, only just now I can't find the strength to ask the doctor for a week or so off. So I'll endeavour to push forwards, and not fall back.

xxx

In memory of those who fell in World War 1 and World War 2.

The Truth About Me

I think that this final draft of my 'winning' poem is about as much as I can say.


I'm having trouble,
With who I am;
Brown hair and eyes and
Skin that holds so many deep lies.
The colours they cascade around my world,
But all that I can find are monotone tears.
I've lost the control that I never had,
In fact I'm a mass of mess,
Surely one day I'll be discovered,
The true extent of my flaws.
I'll try to hide until I fade away,
With a little help I can get to tomorrow,
Those who question I will ignore,
Until the hour that someone breaks through.
They've not found me as yet,
So I'll maintain my sheild,
I'll make sure that my smile is wide,
And my outlook sunny and bright,
Though deep inside my grey soul will protest,
It makes me wonder if I'll ever escape.
The conflicting feelings, the contradictions;
My torn terror and mixed up mind,
Look inside and you'll see that you're blind,
What you see is not what I am,
So slowly I'll begin to realise,
The unstoppable future is revealed.
There are millions of people living and afraid,
And compared to them I see that -
Really,
I am nothing.
I am nothing.


Ha. If that got 1st place I dread to think what the rest were like...

I want doesn't get

I want to go to London. I love London.

I thought perhaps I just wanted to be anywhere that wasn't Guernsey, but no, I definitely want to go to London.

Anyone else feel like their life's falling apart? No? Ok just me then.......

Surreal

You'll have noticed of course that most of my blog titles are just one word lately - this is because I have no imagination and am feeling rather run down.
I guess you guys at uni all got to the point when school felt too young for you - when you felt you'd outgrown it and had no place there. I am at this point. Grades are slipping because my effort is minimal and everything seems to be focused on UCAS - no offers as yet I must add.

On a brighter note I won a sixth form poetry competition and have refused to read it it assembly - I thought noone would ever read it again, there's no way 1000 people are watching me on a big stage reading the damn thing!

Just feeling a bit useless and distant I guess - apologies if you can tell from conversations with me. I sort of feel like I'm the only one in the world and I barely notice when someone else drifts by...sounds sort of bleak I guess. It's not so bad. Just have to get pulled back somehow.

On a stranger note I now have red hair. I kinda like it. Maybe I'll leave it that way, maybe I won't. I'm on the hunt for a sort of black/red colour because black sort of made me look like a dead pirate but red's a bit extreme - so black with a red tint is appealing. I hated my mouse brown and I refuse point-blank to go back to my childhood blonde.

Well I shall leave you now to your merry thoughts, reminding you that mine are with you.

Escapism

This is where I want to be. Away from everything and everyone apart from the crashing of waves on the hull.

No more counting

A member of an online community I am part of passed away the other day, she took her own life. She was my age and she was known as emmybug. She didn't post to say she felt suicidal, she didn't text anyone, she just slipped away.
I am crying because I'm thankful. I have been where she was in her mind and someone or something saved me. It was decided that it wasn't my time to go, and I'm thankful for that.
Unfortunately emmybug slipped through the soft net we put up to protect her, and now we can only hope that she has peace.

No alarms and no surprises, please

I am without picture today and relying heavily on people recognising that inspired Radiohead quote up there. That's what happens if you don't get Broadband children. I had wanted to put a picture I took on Saturday morning whilst walking to work at sunrise, right across the Bailiwick and up into St Peter Port - even catching a bit of Beau Sejour and Les Cotils in the far right. Obviously this venture failed and will have to wait until I get back to college and the delights of free, fast Internet when I should be studying, then again a very wise man once said; "There's a lot of things I should do, kid"

This week is my reinvention week, my week to evaluate things. I've been wanting, and threatening, to do this for some time now but haven't had the time. Lo and behold along comes a little thing called half term to help me out. So inbetween reading all those books I meant to read ages ago, catching up on recomendations and making passable poems out of scribbles - I've also been changing.

I don't need to spend my wages as they arrive in my account each week. I don't need to buy copious amounts of clothes in a vain attempt to cheer myself up. I don't even need to buy that jumper in FatFace or those shoes in Sail Or Surf. I have everything I need. What I am going to do is save up for my car insurance and tax which both need renewing. I'm going to save for Uni. I'm going to save for a really torrential rainy day because spending on the little ones doesn't make them any brighter at all.

Last night I was reading through all the references that were kindly written for me when I was put forward for Lieutenant Governor's Cadet (Presentation ceremony on the 8th November - beward dodgy Guernsey Press photos of me in uniform). They are outstanding references and I can't get my head round them being about me. Me! John Elliott from GST wrote such a sweet one, and Jenny Falla from Guiding, a bunch of my teachers at school and even a little girl I babysit sometimes. They actually make me cry because what I'm reading here is how I appear to other people, it's enough to make anyone cry.

They say that people change, and I'd always maintained that my mum could change, my crazy alcoholic dad could change - but I never really believed it. They both have cars and houses and all they need, their lives suit them without change. I can't change anybody to fit in with my ideals for them - not my family and not my friends. But people do change with time, little aspects of their personality become incompatible and slowly but surely they drift away. That's sad of course but repairable - if both parties want it to be. Unfortunately part of these changes often involve irreparable differences and whilst I know a lot of people have drifted away from us all they never stop caring, maybe they just stop laughing at our jokes or loving us in our flawed beauty. We will never stop loving them though.

Tomorrow I'm going to wake up and I'm going to think of five things or people that I love, then I'm going to tell them. Try it.

Apprehensive but fine

I write to you, petals, from college. I have completed and sent off UCAS, I have completed and handed in assignments meant to be half term work and I have had my stitches removed this morning.

I'm looking forward to a half term filled with sleep and nothing else. I'm looking forward to spending time with my friends. I'm looking forward to a break.

I'm good.

Morbid Outlook

Today I am having a day of realisation. There are no doubt many causes for this and there's no doubt that most of them will sound stupid to you. Last night I had a very bad night. I knew it was coming and I knew that no matter what any psychiatrist or caring friend said I could not avoid it, and I couldn't. For days now I've known, I've been practising for it and working up to it and feeling so utterly lifeless that I'm surprised I managed to do it.

But I did. The first aid supplies holding my arm in place are testament to this. It hurts, of course it does, but it feels like a deserved hurt - a hurt that I've earned. I feel sick, and probably sound it too, but at the same time I feel calm - because I have quelled the beast inside and fed to him his ritual serving of blood, until the next time.

I feel devoid of an identity today, lacking in direction. Christianity today is a distant hope, and happiness a far-fetched dream. Dutifully I came into college today, wrapped up like an eskimo.

Uhm

I was going to put a photo of me and some pals in France but then I realised how fat I looked, and cancelled it. So I found a better one.

I'm not feeling brilliant today, I know I'm a big mess. I'm getting there though.

Love ya

Reconciliation

Who knows if I spelt that properly? I don't know.
I love you guys, you know that? Everyone who ever visited here, I love you.
I felt I needed to write this post to apologise for my behaviour in the past few weeks/months. I am better now. Really I am. Next time I'll try not to take it out on you guys so much, cos that ain't fair! Anyway Niki is back, and she's looking to stay - will you have me? x

I'm having trouble,
With who I am,
Brown hair and eyes and
Skin that holds so many lies.
The colours they cascade around my world,
But monotone tears are all I produce.
My smile is wide,
The outlook sunny,
Though deep inside my soul protests.
I wonder if I'll ever match.
Conflicting feelings;
Mixed up mind,
Look inside and you'll see you're blind.
What you see is not what I am,
I'm nothing, not really.

x

Wish List

You know what I want now more than anything? More than anything in the entire world?
I want to be able to talk, in person, about me. I want to not be afraid and run off whenever the subject of me is brought up. I want to be myself in anyone's prescence. I want everyone to know and see my arms littered with scars. I want to cure everyone's depression. I want to look good and know I look good. I want to sail around the world. I want to be in love, not just loved by someone. I want to not cry every morning. I want to not cry everynight. I want to write an entire book about everything that I've crammed into 17 years. I want to wear sleeveless tops and not be stared at. I want people to see beyond my scruffiness. I want people to not think I'm just a stereotypical teenager, because I'm not. I want to be enveloped in beauty.

Both Sides Now

I love Joni Mitchell. I love the acoustic version of 'Both Sides Now'. I love the lyrics.
I'm sorry I brought Christianity into this blog.

Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It's cloud illusions I recall
I really don't know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I've looked at love that way

But now it's just another show
You leave 'em laughing when you go
And if you care, don't let them know
Don't give yourself away

I've looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
It's love's illusions I recall
I really don't know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say "I love you"; right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I've looked at life that way

Oh but now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I've changed
Well something's lost but something's gained
In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

Desperate

Soon. Soon I will stop swamping you with black clouds. Soon.

I am told anyway. God told me. I'm not sure that I believe him.

I don't know what he meant. I have an idea.

Until then, shine on my sparkles.

Beautiful Pain

I know you thought that you were getting rid of me but I missed my connecting bus so I've now got a few hours to kill before I have to catch the next one. Therefore I thought I'd do something that I haven't done in a while and pour out every single one of my thoughts. There are quite a few so unless you've got a strong stomach or are incredibly bored...I'd advise you to look away now.

I want to be close to someone, really close to them - in body and in mind. I have rekindled my Christianity in a vain attempt to find some peace, or something, in my life. Right now I really need someone, or something, and since I don't want to have to see my friends cry again anytime soon I found myself at Church. Despite what many of you might think, I have not gone mad. I have always been curious about faith since I went to Sunday School as a child and have watched my mother go to Church every Sunday since then. It felt like the thing I was missing and for the moment, it's keeping me alive. I know that it's a cowards faith as I'm only there really to cling desperately to some form of reality, but it's a faith all the same and maybe someday God will even forgive me for all that I've done and welcome me back.

The title of the blog is something I was thinking about on the plane this morning. Am I becoming too fond of depression? It sounds absurd of course but I wonder if just maybe a part of me is afraid of what I could be without it - without self injury and without medication and without therapy. What's left of me? What would be left of my life? Am I really relishing my pain? I never stop talking about it, making you and others feel uncomfortable. I think that the idea is not all together unfounded, although it is sad and slightly unnerving.

I sound like I'm having a mid-life crisis I know. At 17. I know. But to be fair I've done a hell of a lot in those 17 years and by some people's standards I have reached middle age. God. The truth is I am very unlikely to go to Uni, now. I can't afford it and though my father can he believes I should make my own way in the world, which is fair enough. But really I don't think I can. I don't want to become him or my mother. I would rather be a nun than spend my working life in Guernsey at some private bank going further and further up my own arse until one day I just disappear and no-one notices until I'm washed up at Fermain, or something.

So I have decisions to make. I have to choose a life. But first of all I have to choose a Nikita.

Faith

Who am I kidding?
Faith in what exactly? This is exactly why I went back to Church, and it's exactly what's tearing me apart now.

I'm going away for a bit.
Use the UK number if you need me.

x

It's here

Over me
Looming
Stuck under it

Poppies In July

Little poppies, little hell flames,
Do you do no harm?

You flicker. I cannot touch you.
I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns

And it exhausts me to watch you
Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.

A mouth just bloodied.
Little bloody skirts!

There are fumes I cannot touch.
Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?

If I could bleed, or sleep!
If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!

Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,
Dulling and stilling.

But colorless. Colorless.

Sylvia Plath

And the raging swirl of depression rages.
Adieu.

Rollercoasters

I know that this is an overused analogy but suppose that my life is a bit of a rollercoaster. Think of last night as the big dip which is approached at about 500mph and you're not sure if you're going to survive it because it's fast and manic and oddly detatched.

This morning is that long straight bit when you've no idea what might happen - is the ride over? Or is there going to be another life-threatening loop? No-one knows at that moment - even if they've ridden this particular rollercoaster before.

The point is that people don't die from plunging towards the ground on a rollercoaster. Right? Right?!?!

Don't judge what you don't know

I went to the gym yesterday and there were a lot of women in the changing room. Now I'm not a girl who wanders round with nothing on - I've always got my towel and I change in a dedicated room. It takes a lot to walk from the shower to my clothes then into a room. I do not appreciate Barbie girls making comments in hushed tones about certain red lines on my arms.

...

I know that they are there.
I put them there.
They are my fault.

...

If they want to look, fine but why or how they are there are nothing to do with anyone else unless I choose to tell them.
Have they been in my head? No. Are there any flaws on their airbrushed arms? No.

So they can fuck off with their giggling remarks.

It's a long way to good grades...

I promised a Uni roundup and now I'm back to college and that comforting routine of only working for about five hours a week I thought I should make a start. I'll go through them in order. Tough if you don't want to know, because I want to write.

Exeter

Nice campus, and very green. Bit contained - as in it was a Uni in a green bubble. I think I may prefer somewhere a bit spread around. The entry level is high too - AAB. Slightly too close to Guernsey too but I might apply anyway.

Keele

Up in Newcastle-Under-Lyme in the middle of nowhere. Again it was a campus Uni with a load of trees and smiling students. It's a bit land-locked and the town kinda creeped me out but it's my CCC entry level which right now I have little hope of exceeding.

Edinburgh

Gorgeous city and pretty buildings, I liked that the Uni was all over the shop. However I found the town a bit touristy and I was accosted by four Hare Krishna people which was annoying. It's BBB entry for my course.

Glasgow

For some reason I always fancied this city even before I went there. Stayed in the same residences as Keir so can testify that they're all the same. Smaller bathroom than Edinburgh but I'm up for a compromise. Major downside is that it's a five year degree and not sure I can finance it but we'll see. BBB entry.

Southampton

I went here to please my mother. It took twenty minutes from our front door to the Uni and that did not make me a happy girl! I know this city, I've lived in this city, this city bores me. And frankly so did the Uni - plus there were about fifteen Guernsey people there. AAB entry.

I still have to visit Warwick in two weeks time, but it's AAB too which I am no way going to get.

I got BBCC in my AS Levels and have just had a meeting with my tutor who feels I did not acheive my potential. Nah, you don't say! Year 12 was a shit year personally for me so I'm hoping in year 13 with the help of resits I can pull my sorry ass up to BBBB.

I now have to re-write my entire personal statement because my tutor feels that it's very me but far too chatty. Very me! Wouldn't want to come across as myself to an Admissions Tutor now would I?!

Hope you're all well, talk to you soon

The Invisible Girl

That's actually the title of a book by Peter Barham, as well as the title of a poem I wrote and was quite proud of until I saw he'd found the damn thing first! Anyway. How are you all? Preparing to go back to Uni in most cases I expect. I visited a lot of those places this summer and I'll write a detailed overview when I get back to Guernsey on the 10th. Good Luck to Laura who's going to Uni for the very first year.

I have lost a few people over the summer, a few friends. Not to death, but to normality. Maybe none of you are close enough to feel the impact, maybe you're just different people but I know that in the cases of some my calls and messages are no longer answered; letters no longer written and meetings no longer arranged. I don't blame them, not at all, I think it's pretty hard to be my friend - in fact people have told me that it is - but I love them for trying.

Do you remember when I first started being honest on this blog? Do you remember your reactions, what you thought? I was in deep then and I've been in deep several times since then - just ask to see my mental health record at the hospital! But I've been managing most of the time, surviving the bad days and celebrating the good - sorry if it seems I haven't written much about the good on this page it's just it's easier to write about bad.

Well right now I'm in deep again. So much so that during my weekly phone calls with the oracle that is Dr H, he has started to raise concerns and hint at staying here in the UK to receive 'treatment' once and for all. Tosser. I've got college to do, a Mum to keep level, sisters to guide, a Dad to hide from and a past to ignore.

It's entirely possible that the girl I am today is the girl I will be in ten years time - infact it's probable. Maybe I can find someone just as warped as me and we can get married and have messed-up kids. Although I don't think I could handle a kid like me - no way. Talking to a psychiatrist about domestic violence, coming down to breakfast with scars on show, disappearing for a week. I couldn't take my kid doing that! I'd kill both of us! Yet my Mum seems to be able to block it all out, my sisters ignore it and my Dad punishes me like I deserve. They've got it down to a T!

I was on the phone last night to the person I love possibly the most in the whole world and she was outstanding. Maybe she even saved my life. Who knows what's about to happen?

So I'll leave you here with a thank you and a request;

Thank you for sticking by me for two years or more.
Please speak now or forever hold your peace if you have any leaving me to do, or comments to make, or criticisms to...do. I'd rather get it all done in one holiday.

Love you

Sparkles

Sod today, just sod it.

I am writing again, and back to my miserable little bitch self.
I am running every evening in the biggest shirt I can find, listen to the angstiest music.
I made a young man happy.
I feel ill.
I should take the meds, I know, but I don't want to.
I am knackered.
I am leaving for Scotland on Sunday.
I have horrible hair, and arms, and face, and well I am horrible. And ugly. And annoying.
But hey.

This is Niki. 17 years old, daughter of a mafia man turned manager and an accountant. Living in a three bed semi and driving a Ford. Sounds boring, it IS boring.
You see all the blades and the drink and the drugs and all the stuff you don't know about is shit. And it happened. Now it is not happening. I must get over it.

I live where I live and I live how I live. Sometimes bad things happen, sometimes good things do. Live for tomorrow, not for yesterday or the crappy past 16 years. Drink Irn Bru and cry watching Casualty.

Because despite amitriptyline and sodium chloride tears, this is Nikita.

The day of reckoning

I wouldn't be an A Level student if I didn't write this post really would I?

Truth be told I haven't got my results. Obviously I couldn't go pick them up, I forgot to get my address changed to this 0ne on the mainland and my mum refuses to go get them.
I was supposed to send the school a letter asking if they'd let my mum have them, but I forgot - therefore I have not got them.
Tomorrow they will be posted to my Guernsey address, but no one will be there as my mum leaves early in the morning for Southampton, before the post arrives.
I phoned Dad to ask if he'd go get them from home and throw them in the post to Southampton, but he declined and the whole thing ended in a shouting match.

So. Until the 10th September I do not know whether or not I can carry on my courses; and I don't know whether visiting all these Universities is justified.

Nah I'm not miffed...

Well I did warn you...

My little cherubs, what shall I tell you today?

I could rant and rave about a bad night last week.
I could celebrate over two years of this crazy corner of the web.
I could describe the ring I just inherited.
I could give you in-depth analysis of my hair.
I could moan about still being covered in bruises.
I could educate you on the depressive bitch that I am...

...But I won't.

Because you just don't deserve it.

In fact all of you, why the hell do you still visit huh? You crazy muffins.
You know if you just slip away - I won't put a curse on you or owt...I'm not really a witch. (Well I am but I got thrown out of witch school and they snapped my wand.)

I've no idea what to write. Do you know how long it's been since I wrote fiction? I have so many things I want to write out - for the blog and for my red notebook...but I can't...because I just can't write.

And you know what? I think that's half the problem

"My only regret in life is that I'm not someone else"

I missed the blog's two year birthday. So.

I'll say something, somewhen.

Thanks for everything visitors, old and new.

Eternal dreariness of the messed up mind

Sorry that was an awful use of a perfectly good film title. Sue me.
SO. Where do I start?

I'll start at the beginning.

The day after I arrived in Southampton it was my Great Aunty Grace's funeral. I loved her. She used to teach English and she gave me so many books, she wrote history and she just fell in love with everyone she met. I followed the coffin up the aisle with my Godfather, I listened to the gorgeous things being said, I wished I could speak, I used a packet of tissues (fuck my rule about not crying in public) and I sang.
Then we buried her, put her in a hole in the ground and threw soil on her. We walked back to the hall and some people ate sandwiches. I just sat and was asked fucking stupid questions about college and University and my eyes and was I married and was I my mother?
I went to the toilet and cried, a lot.
I drove my grandparents home in their tank of a car.
I went to bed.

Next we have Cowes Week. Seven days of lethal racing on a Contessa 32 called Blanco. A crew of 7 in a class with 16 boats. We won five days, got one second and one third. I fell into the Solent and met a lot of sailors. I ate out. I watched the other six members of my crew get pissed every single night, while I drank water.
Overall we won. WE WON. FIRST. Out of the 1000+ boats in the regatta we came about 5th.
It was awesome, and well worth the discomfort.

So. Why can't I get out of bed? Why aren't the meds working? Why do I want something sharp and silver that sure as hell isn't tin foil?

Why the hell am I still alive?

Sorry. Didn't mean to ruin the greatness of Cowes. Just a bit fed up. How are y'all?

Ah well

Ace

I'm covered in bruises, I hurt, but it's fantastic.

Loving and leaving

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

Yup

Darlings

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

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

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

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

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

Never fear...

...when Niki's here!

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

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

I love you

Condolences

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

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

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

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

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

Flooding the school

I hate crying in school

Faster than the speed of sound

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

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

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

Personal what?

Fucking Personal Statement

But despite that...

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

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

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

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

Blah

7th July 2005

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think I'll shut up now.

Fade Out

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

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

Stupid damn pills aren't working

Where the ocean meets the sky I'll be sailing

Hey beautiful people

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friday at The Guernsey Grammar School and Sixth Form Centre

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

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

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

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

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

Grr

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

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

Went sailing today which was ace though.

Uh

Fried Donkey

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

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

Uhh no other news...

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

I am now 17 years young.

Starfish

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

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

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

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

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

I look horrible today. Random.

Love y'all

Even Angels Fall

Just a wee quick post to counteract those yesterday.

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

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

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

Anyone got a spatula...

.... to scrape me off the floor?

*sheepish look*

I could never be your perfect girl

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

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

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

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

And that's just the Philosophy....

Freud 1856-1939

Jung 1875-1961

Emile Durkheim 1858-1917

Max Weber 1864-1920

Karl Marx 1818-1883

Thomas Aquinas 1225-1274

Immanuel Kant 1724-1804

Cardinal Newman 1801-1890

J L Mackie 1917-1981

Ludwig Feurbach 1804-1872

Augustine 354-430

Irenaus 130-202

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

I have 90 minutes.

Leave me alone, I'm lonely

Anyone wanna join me on the kitchen floor?

To love or not to love?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Discuss ;)

Can you even look me in the eye?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Take care, be loved. xxx

Are you alive?

Now call me crazy...

...Actually don't.

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

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

Well whadda you know?

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

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

I am in shock.

xxx


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

Kings Crossing

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

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

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

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

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


Elliott Smith
From A Basement On A Hill

WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY

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

I am fucked.

An Ode To Poets

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

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

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

A Check-Up

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

A Rest

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

x

Self Discovery? Honesty?

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

I love the way that I...

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

I hate the way that I...

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

Postcard from the edge

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

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

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

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

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

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

* Fade to black *

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

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

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

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

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

* Fade to black *

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

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

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

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

Nikita

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


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

Things like this

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

It's things like this that make those tears worthwhile

Oh how times change

Nikita Elizabeth Le Sauvage - Age 8

Happiness is...

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

Niki - Age 16

Happiness is...

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

Nothing stays the same people
xxx

Time for films...

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

1. Lost In Translation

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

2. Crazy/Beautiful

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

3. Loch Ness

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

4. Donnie Darko

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

5. Sylvia

Devastating, beautiful.

6. The Perfect Storm

One of the few Hollywood films without a happy ending.

7. Top Gun

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

8. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Very strange, but I love Clementine's hair.

9. Romeo and Juliet

Amazing adaptation.

10. One Fine Day

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

xxx

Read children, read

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

1. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

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

2. Knife Edge - Malorie Blackman

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

3. The Best Awful - Carrie Fisher

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

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

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

5. Long Way Round - Ewan McGregor & Charley Boorman

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

6. Girl, Interrupted - Susanna Kaysen

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

7. Enduring Love - Ian McEwan

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

8. Prozac Nation - Elizabeth Wurtzel

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

9. Escape - June Oldham

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

10. Taking On The World - Dame Ellen MacArthur

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

So get reading...

Espana

Gotta love Spain

Smile

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

Stay safe while I'm in Spain.

xxx