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7月16日 Things I'll never say:I need you You broke my heart Stay I want you Don't touch me Why can't I be you? Come home I don't understand you I can't stand your girlfriend I hate you You don't know what you do to me I miss you Sometimes you scare me I want you to want me but I never want to want you again. I hate your band I love you I wish you could see you through my eyes Quit your job You're the bravest person I've ever met I admire you but that doesn't mean I want to live your life No, I'm busy We're still the same compulsive drunks we were when we were small You're the most beautiful girl in the world Get your own bloody shoes I'll never actually forgive you, not properly. I tried once, didn't work Don't marry her Seriously, stop eating How the hell'd we wind up like this? What we had was a nice thought but a bad idea You actually do drive me insane You mean the world to me 6月29日 The House Shoes do OxbridgeAfter being roused from my slumber by an impromptu redention of Boys Don't Cry at The Crack Of Dawn a.m., I embarked on my daily morning ritual ever-so-slightly less enthusiastically than normal. For those of you who don't know me, imagine the slowest thing you've ever seen, times that by infinity, take that to the depths of forever, and you'll still only have a glimpse of what I'm talking about. I'm not good at mornings.
Following several million sprints to the house and back, I finally set off on the long journey down to Oxford university, more than prepared to hate it.
I didn't hate it.
Not even close.
That's probably not a good thing.
I had a wonderful day, I was "adorable" and consummately colour co-ordinated, and DIDN'T get thrown out EITHER. There were people, all of which were nice to me, several of which complimented me on my shoes, including one guy who used them as a conversation opener.
Twenty minutes of flirting outrageously later, he threw in the fact that he's a lecturer.
6月16日 'Cause I'm selfish, and you're sorryAfter reading Iain's blog on the distinct lack of communication on buses, I started to think about it. So many of us really do do whatever we can, just to avoid the slight possibility that someone actually might talk to us on the bus.
I know I do. Phone, book, magazine, i-river and if all else fails, an instruction manual. I do. If I don't have any distractions, I sit and stare out of the window and just smile standoffishly to acknowledge anyone talking to me.
The thing is, I'm not at my most sociable on the bus. Most of the time, even when people I know get on, I pretend not to see them.
It's because the bus is MY time. It's the only time during the day that is utterly, completely and selfishly MINE. I don't want to share it. I don't have to share it. And I bloody well won't share it.
I'm free to be alone with my thoughts, or the lack of, conversationally, and noone, not one person, can tell me that I should be "doing something." Because I'm on a bus, what else could I possibly be doing?
We were talking about it in biology, apparently it's the same story on trains. Granted, the majority of people have different reasons behind their behaviour - they're just trying to avoid The Crazies.
I came to thinking about the absurd lengths that I've actually gone to, just to avoid talking to someone.
"Pardon, mais je ne comprends pas parce que je suis francaise." + batting of the eyelashes is the most frequent. Although, should anyone actually turn around and speak French back, I'd be buggered.
Diving behind buildings, avoiding eye-contact, running around corners, pretending to be knee deep in highly intellectual conversation, or at least an absorbing one.
All tactics that I have implicated, and am likely to implicate again, just to avoid a quick chat.
You'd think I was unsociable, wouldn't you? 6月15日 Boys Don't CryAfter a rather tumultuous start to the week, today was surprisingly not quite the crisis situation that I'd imagined. However, despite the comparitive rainbows and sunshine dust I couldn't quite shake the shadow of misery of the previous few days.
We've all noticed that people, and I'm a real bugger for it, go out of their way to mask their true feelings. Take today, for example, I'm pensive and a bit melancholy; if you'd seen me, you'd probably mistake me for a extroversional cheerleader on a sugar rush. When I'm feeling particularly vulnerable is when you can bet I'll be at my most outlandish. I present some sort of solid and confident front when I don't want the world to know that I'm ready to go to pieces.
They say that when she laughs, she wants to cry.
I have a bank card again, I am no longer the socially disabled and can once again function like a regular human being. Let's hope that this marks a turn-around. Things could do to pick up again about now-ish.
I'm facing the weekend with a fresh dose of optimism, hoping that this time it won't be shattered by arguments at 6.53am. For the fifth day in a row. 6月10日 Keep all the pictures in their frames, cut me out, yeah, I'll be fine.I think sometimes it's just better to live in a dream world because reality could never measure up.
People are never there forever and things never stay the same.
I sat and looked through mountains of old photographs last night after being inspired by some sort of photo competition-type-thing. So I sat there with my prints, my laptop and my vodka and I reminisced. Quickly the reminiscing turned to mourning because, probably just as I'm doing now, I didn't realise how good things were then. When we all just were.
There was no need for bitching, no need for clothing, no need for paracetamol because we were immune to it all. It was fine for me to sleep over at Tom's house, because it was a Boys Night In. Noone cared who I hung out with and we'd do just that. All the time. We'd sit in a garage and play Halo and drink warm beer, moaning about the Hells of Highschool, just hanging out.
I used to answer the phone, back then. And it never stopped ringing.
I miss that.
It's not all bad these days; I have better shoes. 6月9日 She Sells SanctuaryDoes she? Really? Where? And can I get some on Ebay?
It is exactly 9.04am. I have already been woken up four times.
Firstly by dogs barking. My neighbour's dogs, don't for one second think that it was my own, oh no, so siree, it was HIS dogs. His great big ugly mutations of canines, whose only reason for being is to visciously gnaw someone's limb off should they decide to go around with an Avon catalogue.
Secondly by the house phone ringing. It was 7.03am. Who rings a house phone at 7.03am? I don't know, I refused to get out of my bed to answer it. Nobody I know would call at this hour. Nobody I Know Would Call At This Hour.
Thirdly by my darling brother stomping his way through the house, dropping every item he owns, shouting about with Stepdaddy Dearest. Thanks. Love YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And FINALLY, wait for it, this one's really the killer in all of this, by my neighbour. Yes the one and the same whose dogs woke me up at 2am. I love these neighbours of ours, truly I do. I treasure them with my deeply homocidal tendencies.
So, lets set the scene, it's a peaceful sunny suburban morning, one hardworking A level student is trying to catch up on some well deserved sleep, it's approximately 8:53:34am. Suddenly, she is thrust from her slumber like a log into the fire by a hideous roaring noise. Guesses, anyone, guesses? A quad bike. A quad bike at 8:53:34am. A quad bike at 8:53:34am in Suburbia, next to her open window.
One word: WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DRIVING A QUAD BIKE AROUND YOUR BACKGARDEN AT 8:53:34AM? 5月27日 It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.From an early age, we're drilled with rules to ensure that our physical safety is taken care of. Make sure you wear a helmet when riding a bike; look both ways before you cross the road; always use a condom.
But how many of us pay attention to the regulations concerning emotional protection?
We're so engrossed with matters of a physical nature that we often neglect what might be going on elsewhere. It's not likely that a cold will go unnoticed, and most of us can write you a three thousand word essay on our personal well-being but when it comes to affairs of the heart, how many of us can give the correct clinical diagnosis?
Are we all just thumbling along blindly through high-risk emotional battlefields? Or do we just choose to ignore the sign posts?
When given the choice, how many of us know when to "get out"? 5月19日 Bullet Proof"Drove, drove? Who drove you home?"
I drove today. May not be such a big deal to most people. For those who drive everyday, for those who drive for a living, for those that have been having lessons for months.
For me it is a big deal.
It meant something, something scary. That kind of independent scary something that you spend your life striving to have, I had it, if only for an hour, it was mine. Granted, I probably couldn't have gotten very far, come a corner or roundabout, there'd be serious implications. But there, on the straight and narrow, I was quite contented plodding along in second gear.
Father, you're just like my father...
Today also served as an opportunity for me and The Mother to talk. We don't do that often, sure we communicate but we never ACTually talk. It was strange. I felt like a grown-up having one of those grown-up conversations that all of the psychology textbooks tell you are essential for something or other. We talked about my relationships; my brother, sister and their relationships; my inability to trust anyone; her inability to trust anyone; my intense fear of commitment and consequental string of unsuccessful relationships. I learnt a lot. I learned a lot about myself, and more importantly, about my mother. I came to terms with a lot of things about myself, and I kind of found some sort of peace in dealing with the role my Dad's played in it all. It's already happened, there's not much I can do about it now but accept it.
Seventeen without a purpose or direction
I'm growing up and it's as scary as hell.
I like coffee and curry, and today, I even ate chilli. All of the things that I spent my entire childhood despising with every inch of my being, refuting any claim that I'd "like it when you're older". I do, therefore I am old.
Next year I will be eighteen, I will be moving off to whichever university takes pity on me, and I'm going to have to survive on my own. - Something which I've always strived to do, always aimed to be independent, because that's the way she raised me. And I am; I'm as financially independent as I can be, as emotionally independent as anyone could be.
She told me that the only thing that she hopes for me in life is that I'm always independent, financially and emotionally. She told me that she's proud of my inability to trust people because at least I won't get burned. I've never felt closer to my mum in my whole life. 5月11日 No If's, And's or But's.When it comes to relationships, we're looking more and more for perfection in our partners.
In today's volatile dating market, should we liquidate our stocks as soon as they look like they might not perform as well as expected? Or are there certain things that we should try to negotiate?
When it comes to relationships, what are the deal-breakers?
How many of us can honestly say that we've never broken up with someone for some minor characteristic or another? I know I have.
Obviously, there are the major issues: Age, distance, linguistics. And then those not quite so drastic but ridiculously grating things like smoking or bad shoes.
I've even been known to break up with someone over their spelling before. I'm sorry, I know I'm going straight to dating-hell, but he was down-right illiterate!
Punctuation is another one, I don't care if you have a PhD in astrophysics, if you still insist on writing "Your so beautiful", you deserve to be struck by lightening, hacked up on the spot and buried in an unmarked grave.
The same principle applies for BO. In modern society, with the range of anti-perspirants available, there is no excuse for poor personal hygiene. Or bad breath.
And how about kissing? How many of us would be forced to break up with a partner that couldn't kiss? For many, a bad-kisser is a non-negotiable.
When did relationships become so dump-friendly?
5月4日 Wishin' and hopin' and thinkin' and prayin'Wish that I could:
Have tomorrow over with.
Be good at French.
Pass my exam.
Be bothered to turn up to my exam.
Have all my homework done.
Know biology.
Play this CD louder.
Have my room back, tidy and the way it should be.
Get off the damn internet already.
Lose half a stone
Go shopping and buy lots of shoes.
Talk to Tim.
Have my hair the way I want it without having to go to hairdressers'.
Have clear skin.
Get my old tablets back - Yes, government regulations, I am talking to you.
Have a wardrobe full of new clothes.
Feel inspired.
Go to the seaside.
Dance in the rain.
Read minds.
Not feel like a big fat paranoid ball of stress.
Yes, that would be good about now.
4月28日 It's so clear now that you are all that I have...Today was one of those few and far between chances for me to spend time with Tom. Tom has played a central part in the story of my life for a good few years now, and even when the storyline tends to deviate a little bit away from him, he's always there, loitering amongst the curtains.
He moaned about my lack of updating, so this is for him.
But saying that, this is for all of those people that do loiter amongst my curtains and dance in my shadows. For the ones that text me when I'm feeling down, the ones that invite me over to play scrabble, the ones that say "good luck, honey" before I fail my French exam. The ones that make a myspace group to appreciate me, or even those that join it. For those that talk about my life in terms of paint, and those that sing silly songs with me.
Yes, it's a lame and soppy one.
We're all tired but we're working, and it'll all be over soon... 4月21日 You can do anything you like because, Darling, it's your life.Do you ever feel like, with every passing minute, another door is closing?
Like time has descended into an endless spiral of missed opportunities and oopsie daisies?
As if you're sitting around doing not a right lot, and every minute of that not a right lot is stealing away one of your chances?
I just can't help myself, I really wish I could be somewhere else.
I seem to be living in my own little made-up world at the moment. You see, the thing is, my made-up world is easier, more fun, more my own way. I make all the decisions, consequence free of course, and life.is.perfect.
That's when a door slams.
I swing around to notice someone leaving, or a rejection letter lying on my doorstep. I pick up my phone and find four missed calls and four new SMS, but I don't bother to read the details.
If this is living, how come I never feel alive?
Life has evolved into a constant cycle of work, revision, electro music, and The Mighty Boosh. But, I suppose, why not? It can't last more than eight weeks, right? Everything works in eight week cycles.
It just seems like I'm working towards nothingness. 4月3日 Breaking hearts has never looked so coolAfter spending the entire lunchtime discussing "cheating" with a girl of the same age as me and a twenty nine year old male maths teacher, I came to the conclusion that it's complicated.
I have questions: What, to you, constitutes cheating? Holding hands, hugging, kissing, performing some sort of sexual act with someone other than your partner? Is the definition dependent on age? For example, is what we describe as cheating when we're thirteen the same as when we're twenty three? Is cheating like the proverbial tree in the forest? It doesn't exist if there's noone there to catch you? And what would you prefer, if your partner cheated on you, would you rather it be with someone of the same sex as you or the opposite? 3月27日 I'm an opportunity and I knock so softlyToday's lesson is about politics.
No, not the politics that you'll find in the House Of Commons, or Lords, for that matter, either.
Nobody really cares about those kinds of poltics. And the small minority that do probably shouldn't read my blog.
No, today's lesson is about the politics that we face everyday.
The politics of Year 9 social relations. The politics of chemistry coursework. The politics of a relationship.
Politics are all around us. In every wall, every crevace and every sentence. Not one utterance that you make passes without critical political analysis. "She Can't Say That, Can She? "
...She just did.
The fact is, we are obsessed by politics. Who's dating who, who's cheating on who - their age, sex and location, their gender, race and religion.
How many of us flinch when we hear the word "nigger"? It's not politically correct. How about "cripple"? Not exactly a pleasant term, really; cringeworthy to say the least.
Some of us are outraged by the misuse of an apostrophe. "Two weeks notice" blazened across bilboards saw a rise in the prescription of Beta-blockers amongst grammarians worldwide. Bad punctuation? Yes. Politics? Undeniably.
How about the office gossip? Or the playground fights? Politics have their price.
Sometimes the innate urge to be politically correct has its own reprocussions. Anyone remember the "winter lights" scenario? The fact remains, you can't please everybody. Sometimes the politically "incorrect" version is more correct than its counterpart.
Politics change so quickly these days that the majority of people couldn't tell you the politically correct term for a "dwarf" or the right way to refer to a person who is "half-caste". We can't keep up with ourselves.
3月21日 Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret...Don't you hate it when you can't tell someone something?
When you can't articulate what it is that you need to say?
And when you're scared what they, or you, might do if you do?
When you're not sure who you want to tell?
Or when you're afraid that the people that you used tell things too don't want to, or are unable to, listen anymore?
When you want to sit alone and just scream, but the most frightening thing you can think of is isolation?
And when life gets hard, time goes too fast and you can't reach the pause button?
Well, I do. I hate it very much.
And hate IS a strong word, but still doesn't even begin to cover it.
3月10日 I could be a supermodel or Norman Mailor and you wouldn't know the difference, would you?As the future dawns upon many of us with the agony that is exam results day, a large proportion are looking to make some of those major decisions that we've been avoiding for the past six months.
What am I going to do after sixth form? Get a job? Go to uni? Study what? What will I work as?Where? With whom? When? And How The Hell Am I Going To Pay For It?
But it's not just us trying to make this decision.
A vast majority of the adult population are also looking to join us in our mystification. In a day and age where work is no longer a necessity, more and more of us are looking for meaning in the jobs that we perform.
We're no longer content with the traditional sense of ambition, promotion, status and money, or even that work is just something we do to pay the bills. We want furfillment. And why shouldn't we? We're going to spend a relatively long time playing our chosen roles in our working lives.
Is it unrealistic - even spoilt - to want meaning, as well as a job and a salary?
Maybe. But luckily this "meaning" is different for everyone. For some, their main drives could be creativity or affiliation, or perhaps security or even autonomy. Maybe it's status that you seek, or material rewards. It could possibly be that you simply need to so something that is valuable for it's own sake; you may want a job that matches your values and contrbutes to something larger than yourself. It's an individual thing.
But if we think about it, if hypothetically all jobs payed the same wage, would we still want to be a lawyer, doctor or an airline pilot? Probably not.
For some the answer is yes, and that's great for those unbelievably lucky enough to be born with the innate knowledge of what they want to do for the next forty years. However, this leaves the rest of us in somewhat of a predicament.
Do we continue working towards a career that we know that we don't really want, just to live to the standards that we desire? Or do we change direction and choose a pathway that could leave us with less financial security, but minus that sense of disillusionment?
Whatever your immediate inclination, there's no doubt about the dubious nature of the problem.
2月24日 There's plenty of reasons she might not ring for you. I mean, maybe she's trapped in a cabinet?As that fantastic invention known as half term comes to a close, I'm faced with the shocking revelation that this means I'm Actually Going To Have To Go Back To School.
It's amazing, I've only had about 10 days off, and yet it feels a lot longer. The Days Go By Oh So Slow.
I've been busy constantly, but yet I've achieved little or nothing. Most days anyway. This can only mean one thing...I have a Himalayan pile of homework.
As I go to contemplate attempting to think about tackling that, I'll leave you with one important lesson:
You know that it's time to Get Off The Internet Already, when you actually find yourself buying badges on ebay.
comments are welcome 2月15日 The Papercut ChroniclesJust like the album, with around as much blood and violence, but minus a fit bassist.
I have a papercut.
It hurts.
I cut it on stickers for ugly shoes.
It bled AND EVERYTHING.
So Valentine's came and went with relatively little loss of blood, and now I'm on the edge of half term.
It's pending.
You know like when you send a message and it says message pending? What is that? Hurry up and get gone already! Same rules apply, only I really don't want half term to end. Ever. I have plans for it. Big ones. Involving sleep that won't happen and parties avec The Mighty Boosh, and other such festive activities that only occur in a holiday. I'm even going for Lunch With The Ladies.
This is because I am a grown up now.
Speaking of growing up. I've been thinking a lot lately about my future, and trying to attempt to consider tackling The Uni Decision. I've done good, I have. Not made a decision, don't be silly. But I have done preparatory work for making a decision. I'm not good at decisions, don't hassle me, ok? I'll get there....you know, eventually.
comments are welcome 2月10日 You know, she even cooks me pancakes, and alpha seltzer when my tummy aches; If that ain't love then I don't know what love is.Valentine's Day is just around the corner.
I know that you know that but I needed to tell you anyway. I am aware that most people will have either stopped reading after the first two words or will be currently willing plagues of locusts to attack my household. Please don't. I don't appreciate it.
Valentine's Day; the holiday with the second highest suicide rate of the year. No jokes.
We're all great big hypocrites of course. We hate Valentine's Day right up until we recieve a card, and then it is the bestest thing in the whole wide world EVER.
Of course this negativity has its advantages; I didn't get a card? I didn't want one anyway. Wham! Bounces straight off the Valentine's Day Rejection Shield. Score one to the losers.
Instead of getting all slushy, I decided to go through the facts. You can't dispute facts. Facts won't slap you in the face or forget your birthday. (3 weeks by the way).
Valentine's Day: The facts.
comments are welcome 2月8日 It's been a while since we talked last, and I'm trying not to talk fast.Honey, I'm home.
I have recently realised that I have been neglecting a very important area of my life. (Very important if you ignore all of the other more important things.) This means that something must be done: I must return to MSN Spaces.
Run and hide....now.
So...what's happened since my last visit? Well there's been some sort of major makeover on here, I'm sure that will have been chewed over repeatedly for months, so we won't discuss it.
I went to see Fall Out Boy. Yes I did. We stood right at the front and to the left a bit. We, that's Mel and Me, had the great honour of meeting the bassist from Gym Class Heroes. And yes, he is as gorgeous as he looks on stage. I could go into details, but I know that you don't wanna read all about my night. It was awesome though...
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