When Something Both Sucks and Blows.

As if getting up at 7am on a Monday morning wasn't a trial enough, to come to college at 8.30am and find your lesson's been cancelled surely takes the biscuit. Realising furthermore you do not have another lesson until 11.30am then goes beyond some sort of sick joke. Being the bookworm I am all my studying is complete and now i severely resent not slipping 'Watchmen' into my bag this morning to complete and thus prepare myself for the next installment of comic novels with an abundance of pictures plus delightfully lacking in words. However, my brain having had to surface at such an inimicable time in the morning doesn't possess this intelligence, and so I am having to stew between webpages and desperately wishing 24 days would pass.

After i finish college I shall be rounding up 'the gang' to go to Ceremony in London. I haven't been in a while, but then the atmosphere of the most conceited city in England isn't much to admire. I just hope the whole hatin-for-rumour thanggg has kind of died down a little and been replaced with more ego, or something. I don't like casting a net upon the whole school of fish as there are some brilliant little swimmers in the pool, but right now and as ever, it's all about a generalisation. What would a backward Norfolk kid know anyway? I'm probably ploughing a field or creating offspring with fellow relatives. Ho ho.

My legs are cold and i am in desperate need of something to fill the next two hours.

Absent in Mind but not in Body.

My blogs are currently few and far between, my organisation and talent in completing tasks is absent and I'm getting more headaches than I am revelations or ideas. I generally feel like my brain is hemorrhaging whenever I try to do something more brain-testing than writing my own name. I resent winter and it's annual ability to make me feel like shit for four months. NB; i just had to check how to spell hemorrhaging for the first time EVER. Something is wrong with me asides me being love sick.

However asides dying, I'm relishing in my own happiness, I am in love and loved, contraire to many a belief (AKA spiteful and bitchy comment behind my back from people who THINK they know me even though they don't like me). A lot of people haven't changed, they're doing stupid things just to be cool and wallowing in bed everyday because that's all they've ever been good at. I'm laughing, I'm head-achey, but I'm laughing.

I've been knitting, getting tattooed, studying so I guess achievement is lurking between hours spent sleeping and wiping my nose. I just love looking around and being able to say 'I'm doing it and you're not'. I don't know whether this makes me a pompous arsehole or just deserving for all my efforts. I'll keep you posted d-claimers.

Time Lapse and Jet Lag

I haven't written in a while. Mostly because I am constantly consumed which things I am trying to complete or should be completing. I could write reems on what I have done in the last 3 weeks or so but frankly, the people I have kept in contact with are the only people who actually give a shit and secondly I can't be bothered to explain 21 days of activity to an online journal that probably isn't read anymore because i don't get so shitty about everything anymore.

Although unrealistic, i severely resent how nothing in life is simple. I have three people to call tomorrow over things that should never have happened. I'm eternally confused, isolating myself from 95% of people was probably the best decision i ever made. I didn't want to come back here and I especially didn't want to face college again. Instead of approaching the fact that I should be studying for exams and completing work I instead spent the whole day clock-watching and realising that 4 out of 14 people in my history class were wearing stripes today; including me.

I am desperate to be with you always, and I am so glad you know this.

Consumed Consumer

Thanks National Rail for raping me of £48. I whole-heartedly appriciate what a fucking rip-off you fatcat bastards are and hope one day whilst you are squandering the millions/billions/trillions of pounds you make by dragging the pennies out of people you contract some form of greedy-shit disease/illness and die.
Cheers again.


In other news I actually feel sick at the amount of calories I have consumed in the past 72 hours. It doesn't even bear thinking about.

Eighteen Candles

Well actually my cake had two, and i had two cakes. Well four if you count the two i shared with other people. Four cakes is actually pretty impressive. It's funny how now I've turned 18 I'm really upset I won't get treated like a child anymore. I have no age-excuse anymore. It also means no more youth-sympathy/presents/ excuse to be overweight/lazy/not fully formed. I guess it's what I've always wanted. But right now all I want truthfully is 5,400 miles away. But that will change in 10days and I can't wait.

I've realised recently as a female how little we support our own sex. I don't know what ever happened to that whole 'girl power' thing the suffragettes, and more popularly the spice girls evoked in some people but i seem to be the only person still burning her bra and secretly resenting the male race. I miss sisterhood and boys being smelly and something we avoided. I'm not pining for my youth again I'm just pining haha.

I feel I have little direction in this current moment of time because I'm tired and defeated. I also have the Hot Fuss album by the killers on Repeat and it's making me quite emotional. Sadly.

The Freedom to be Free

You know your life needs a bit of a push in the more sociable direction when all the librarians know you by your first name. Having finally completed the bane of my existance that has been my EPQ investigation I can look upon all 5,842 words and weep with joy. My current penchant for printing it out repeatedly to remind myself that i have actually finished it is not only personally unhealthy but probably wiping out half of Sherwood forest and diminishing my pledge to be 'environmentally aware'. Yeah.

Still applying for University, I have since today found out that i have to complete a second application for Cambridge once they have accepted my first. Come on?! I never realised it would be so hard to actually make something of my life in this way. I mean, I have achieved the actual desire to go to university; but not only did i find the whole UCAS thing a completely horrific experiance but they're now saying i have to apply again?

My car failed its MOT yesterday and i'm in mourning, I am going on a second hunt for car parts today, but this time accompanied with a male who can do the talking while i stand a look.. ahem... pretty. A self-confessed feminist; I'm not too happy relaying this information but will be ecsstatic when my car is repaired and re-tested on Monday and passes.

If i don't start seeing friends outside of both my jobs/college now the essay-of-my-life is over i think I'm going to perish in a mass of printings and restaurant condiments.

Life, Revised.

I'd say this photo sums up my life right now. I'm so lost in various pages of a series of books that i somehow remember the name of long after i've post-it noted them to death. I can't actually recognise how i exist outside of evaluating historic articles and relentlessly trawling Google to be certai that my research is consistent. I'm pseudo-run down. I honestly believe that the only reason i'm blowing my nose more than a hooker does clients is because i'm subconciously feeling very very sorry for myself. I want to get this work done more than i want life currently, it's so pathetic and the minute i finish it I'll realise what an ass i have been/am always.

Currently sipping Sprite (again it's self-sympathy, the calories/sugar help me cope)sniffing my own face up my nose and sneezing into the keys. I want to go on Xfactor, and see my boyfriend again because not only does oral seem like the most comforting thing right now, but i can honestly say i feel so absent without him. I'm not here, i'm wandering.

It's MY Life

I'm watching this late night debate show and there's a very good reason why it's late night. It's an accumulation of Britain's sweatiest and most pompous bigots talking out of their asses more than anything. I haven't written on here for a while, I think it's best to say I've been mentally challenged. I've honestly found it hard recently to produce anything from my thought processes that isn't complete bullshit. My perfect example is in recent study of Chaucer in a group of students, we were discussing his meaning behind 'urinals' being as the public toilets our male population has come to cherish/piss all over obviously weren't around pre 1500. My only able contribution to the conversation was that he was infact talking about penises. I then continued to sniff for the rest of the lesson because my cold has seemed to consume not only my nasal passage and throat but every nerve ending that extends beyond my neck.

It's watching this program that's made me realise how much i hate when people all talk at the same time. I've realised a lot of things recently. I like to buy or rent books when I'm sad, can never find a pair of shoes i like when i set out to buy some new ones and no longer need to worry about what other people have that i don't. I might not have 'everything', but everything i have seems so wonderful to me.

New Have Heart rocks my world, although i guess it isn't so new anymore.

UK-ill me.

Fact; if you don't hate England you love London. Albeit it being the most active/expansive city in the UK, it's apparently the place to be. Other than traditional country views we as a county have very little to offer if you're actually British. I'd love to be a tourist visiting the UK on occasion. But I'm not, i live here. I feel raped of my money, culture and future. I probably won't ever be able to buy my own home here for a verrrrrrry long time unless the Government owns it. And lets fact it; they can't own EVERYONE'S houses for them. I can't be bothered to get all definitive and 'nitty gritty' but I'm location-unhappy. You can't ever amount to much as an individual it appears if you aren't from various 'hot spots' within our country limits. So i won't even delve into various other things i could possibly say about my place of origin.

I have a lot of reading to do and tired eyes. I want to watch Lord of The Rings with my boyfriend and hot chocolate. It's the first match of the season tomorrow and I bless my eternal taste in football for keeping me active and aiding me in to refrain from becoming consumed in other people's lives because when it comes down to it, I'm jealous. Only Clare will know what I am talking about.
I wish people could tell the difference between a thesaurus and a dictionary.

Lunch Breaks and the Boredom Associated.

Although technically not considered a 'lunch break' anymore by the college bigwigs, it can't be anything but a college lunchbreak because i am bored out of my skull. I percieve myself as sounding so life-unfufilled seeing as most my posts seem to mention how exasperatingly bored I am - but you have to understand; as a college student i can't spend 80% of my life as anything other than bored. It seems to be around the same time everyday that i am faced with the dire prospect of feeling like i have nothing of interest to do. Sure i could be reading one of the 25 or so books to consider for my projects, but yet another thing one must understand as a college student is that it is a hidden rule that we fail to do what we should or could be doing to pass the time. I've only been in since 11.30 (and i was late) and i still feel hard done by.

I think you know as much as i do now that i don't particularly like people. Generally. What other reason have i got for sitting on on Tuesday nights watching policing programs about drunk men falling asleep in a doorway, only to wake up and take a leak on the side of a church? None. I didn't even enjoy the program, again it just passed time. I resent how pathetic I make myself sound, yet relish it at the same time.

I want sweets.

Coping With My Addiction.

I don't know how many days i'm into my chocolate and sweets hiatus but i can honestly say it's torture. Not only does every gorilla Cadbury's advert seem to have suddenly restablished it's slot on television but my house is suddenly over run with enough chocolate bars to treat Africa at Christmas. I can't see i'll last like the end of Ocotber like i pledged. My desire for calorie-intake in 5 snapable segments is outweighing most thought processes, not all, but most.

Today was the start to the first full week of college and i already want to staple and holepunch the shit out of every student who goes other than me. I only have 15 lessons a week but it's enough for my brain to seep out of my ears in sheer mental exhaustion. It's getting pretty boring that the younger year seem to have stepped out of fashion week and into college in a bid to wow their a-level peers with their gift for garments when in reality it's like stepping into topshop and h&m and being harrassed by the mannequins. Some people should also learn that neon tights look good if you have matchstick legs. If not you just look like a tree thats come back from a rave.
Dire, i'm suffocating in NME mingers.

Next Step'tember

I've had the most insane week, I never realised September could be so happenin'. College was extremely dire as to be expected, there is an abundance of work, year 12 students, summer tummies and generally shit people that there was an abundance of last year. It was so boring i could have cried tears of sleep. College also never brings good news, we no longer have a lunch period specifically and my dutch exchange trip has been cancelled. I'm quite disappointed about the fact i will no longer get to sleep in a house that smells of whatever dutch houses smell of and wander around the red light district like an enthralled tourist. I'll also miss the opportunity to verbally abuse foreign people as well as idiots from my own country in the world debates we were going to partake in... sigh.

On a higher note, literally, i will be doing a parachute jump in october for charity. I'm thinking either breast cancer or the 'whizz kids' charity but remain undecided and need verification. I think people who think i'm doing a great thing should donate some of the £350 required and people who want to see me break my neck when it all goes wrong donate too, i mean you never know? You can hope desperately? I know i've got a few of you followers in all your spite.

I'm giving up chocolate and sweets until the end of October, so if i'm cranky, skinnier and full of angst; things are slightly looking up. My love sickness will suffice, it's bliss.

Apathy Animus

I need serious help for my addiction to gameboy and talk shows. It is the apotheosis in the procrastination of my college work; which i'll later regret because i don't think a drug addict, failure father or crazy grandmother will be any explanation as to why my work remains uncompleted. I seriously can't help myself. I'd rather watch Sally Jesse Raphael of all things then read about the sick people who think it's morally ok to deny the holocaust.

I'm failing to accept that college begins again thursday. I abjure to having to face another year being civil to people who i don't like and having to explain to every single stereotype of a student that no, i don't drink and no, i don't smoke weed. No, i don't want to come to the pub at lunch time for a pint with you, i think i'd rather eat my lunch off the toilet bowl. I don't belong here a single bit, i feel like a blind man at the movies, complete waste of time.

I love being caught in this limbo of being in love, seeing my friends and not doing a lot with my time. I think i just need to get the three more gym badges on Pokemon Crystal and i'll finally accept that i am no longer on a college hiatus. Sigh.

Sweats and Threats.

I had a 2 hour football work out session this morning and i'm exhausted. But i am determined determined determined to reach that top shape and be content with looking in the mirror every morning. Finding the motivation to exercise proves so much easier than picking up my Holocaust books or typing my personal statement. I think i'm finally done being angsty and angry all the time. My back started to ache from being hunched over in 'pissed-off' status all the time. Everything i do from this point will be so worth it if it means i'm one step closer to him and one step further away from you. I'm done weighing up my past actions against other people's who claim to be saints. I know everyone for what they are and i love who i have in my life irregardless of what they aren't.

Current loves;
The Get-Up Kids
smiling because of him
laughing because of my friends
gameboy
early nights and lay-ins avec music
life sans MSN
yoga, yoga, yoga
summer fruit
california countdown

current hates;
Only being deprived of what i love

Motivation Please Apply Here.

I need need need to at least find some direction for my Holocaust project but so far have made notes, written a letter and wanted to die on the inside. I have more chance lifting the Statue of Liberty off the ground than I do my excuse for a project. It doesn't help that the whole thing isn't college-compulsory, because i feel like I'm doing them a favour doing it it's hard feeling like i'll be doing ME a favour doing it. Urrrrggggh someone put me in hospital with two broken hands or something so i have SOME excuse (even if it's just for myself) as to why I'm not doing it.

I'm going to at least try rent more books out of the library this afternoon. It's definately obvious that the Government are somewhat lacking in their library funds and then wonder why half the Country is illiterate..hmmm. They didn't have any of the five books I asked for and went as far to accuse me of already having 15 books at home. I hate to break it to you Norfolk library, but it doesn't seem your shelves possess 15 books i'd want to rent out. And then i wonder why i haven't got the drive to complete my project. Well I don't wonder, i know, i'd rather spend the time watching films and playing gameboy whilst listening to Have Heart or something. Dire.

At least I have something to look forward to, 59days.

'a garden of potential, submerged in the rain'.

E-Tickets and Early Rises

I haven't got up late one day this week, and i honestly feel better for it. I've bust my ass everyday doing something or another. And I don't miss having nothing to do a single bit. The fact my beau lives 5500 miles away is a big enough reminder that time is precious until you have it completely to your disposal. I don't want ever want mine to be wasteable. It's once you cross the lazy-days threshold that going back is about as favourable as having a bird shit on you; it stinks and is nothing but effort. Hence why the dole is normally for life, as is my crazy hate for it(and my penchant for mentioning it TOO often).

I've ordered my plane tickets for October and i finally feel like i can be happy about being here asides Clare and Franki again. It has purpose, to put money in the bank and aid me in succeeding in life. College isn't so bad when i think about it, it's just a shame i don't get to go on my own. I have a ton of things to be getting on with, and I'm disappointed that i've been getting slack with my posts, but I'm about 60% sure that the majority of people who read this blog do so for their own negative gratification. They're looking for jokes to make at my expense, and gossip to talk about with other people as pathetic because it beats having to evaluate and thus become discontent with themselves. Satisfying.

I love my life.
'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers'.

This Is What Living Like This Does

My mum had the talk with me today, the long-awaited 'what are you doing with your life' discussion that only results in you finding yourself defending everything you've ever believed in, but consequently you too re-evaluate everything you've done with yourself for the past couple years. Even further consequently you kick yourself for every 'mistake' you've ever made. It really made me think about freedom; i elude it from every pore, yet the only person who confines me is myself.

I've done a lot of things i've regreted, i hate myself for some of the time i've wasted with people who flake out and reinvent themselves into the epitome of everything i never wanted to be. But at the the same time, i've always done everything i've ever wanted, and never failed anything i strived to achieve. It really is true that the only person who holds you back from succeeding is yourself. The desperate dole citizens of this country who moan about not having the money to do as they choose are clear evidence of this.

I'm getting retainers to wear at night today; alas whilst i've spent the afternoon reassessing my youth i will shortly be reliving it every night for the rest of my life. I haven't put anything that metallic in my mouth since braces at 13. It's pathetic that i'm excited. My mum also asked me if i had 'bollocks' hanging from my ears today, no Mum they're cherry-shaped earrings. But thankyou for further establishing how little you like the life i lead right now. Hilarious.

'I got it bad, i got it bad, i got it bad, i got it bad, i've got it bad.'

Finding Faith

Before the hardcore zelot in you screams your holy mary's no i have not found Jesus Christ, Allah or Jehovah. But since re-arranging my room last week i have,noteably, re-arranged my life further than i could have imagined. I know who, and what i want. I got my A-level results and i was pleased. Very pleased. And yeah, if you're a cock to me i will rub it in your face so leave me alone. I'm fully enjoying being a recluse asides the special people i text/email and the people i make time to see. Making plans that don't involve 99% of you is very exciting and exhilerating, i'm whole heartedly embracing the fact that people = shit. (god bless the philosophers in Slipknot).

Currently laying on my bed listening to TBS and contemplating, I am going to do yoga once i've finished talking about myself and intend on getting up early to go for a morning run. That time of day where mist still hangs in the air and just breathing outside makes you shiver. Like i said, fresh start. Which for me is going to involve working a little bit. I have yet to start my extended project (fuck) but I could have bigger things to worry about, like a £240 phone bill (oh shit clare i'm so sorry).

I've had a good week, i'm full of hope; someone press a flannel to my head and check i haven't got a fever. I've just found faith not only in myself, but in letting go. I sound like an arsehole and it's because right now i am, i denied your plans because i've denied you. If this what it feels like to have faith, consider me saved.


'I'll make damn sure, that you can't ever leave, no you won't ever get too far from me you won't.'

Apathy in the UK.

Another day i failed to accomplish anything particularly other than the creation of some invites for my brother's birthday party. I don't care though. I wanted to generally de-clutter my life but have only so far managed to clutter the bin with food wrappers and drinks bottles. I've only really got excited over the fact my dad bought me some Krusha and that i had plenty of mail from my one and only to give me a reason to sign on this morning,(in reality was the afternoon, mmm lay-in).

I can't help but listen to the same songs, wear the same things and survive for the intent of fully living when the time comes. Right now it's the case of getting things done and not letting kids with angst and a hard-on for the interweb try verbally abuse me over msn for something that i frankly again don't care about. Aren't i just another shitty little kid from the UK who doesn't give a fuck about anything? Wrong. I just don't give a fuck about you and/or what you have to say about me. I care about the people I'VE decided I want to remain friends with, college, my health and predominantly (for good reasons) how much money i'm making. Aren't i shallow? Pathetic? Harsh? No i'm just realistic and have some respect, actually.

There is a lot of euphoria in the media at the moment over possible sightings of Madeline McCann, all these people claiming to have seen her, yet sat by and let her disappear again. If you think i'm a nasty person, what about these people? One minute the media is convinced she has been taken by a paedo ring, the next she is in Greece, Holland, the ground. Anything to fill the pages, suprisingly the World keeps turning.

'When you no longer have anyone to hate you hate yourself' - not going to happen.

Old Wives' Tales.

They say you become wise with age. I haven't heard anything on such a grand scale of bollocks since they said they were fighting the war in Iraq for the good of the allied persons. I can think of too many instances where the given 'fact' is untrue. Today at work a customer, who was not only male (yes take note) and old but he asked about why the nectarines had little marks on them. They're branch marks, because suprisingly, and unfortunately, nectarines grow off branches. Also you'd think some people at the age of 20 would grow out of going out of their way to mock people almost 7 years their junior. Nope it seems some still have the audacity, and complete lack of self-confidence to resort to picking on people who are actually quite nice, for their own gratification.

I do hope when i reach 22, and have a boyfriend that i don't need to pick on girls i pretend to be friends with to feel good about myself. Hilarious.

Work made me ratty, not even icecream, a cream dohnut and a burger filled the gap. Maybe my bed will. Moulin Rouge just made me a teary wreck. Bring back my glorious 2 weeks, of beach walks, movies, eating out past 11pm and laying in bed enjoying time, irregardless of it running out.
'You were there, and i was with you, longing for you'.

Coma Update.

Current mood; unsocial
Current personal wellbeing; blocked up nose, aching legs, tired eyes
Currently reading; 'silent scream' by Josh Cannon
Currently thinking; why can't I be in California?

Work today was bareable, however i drank three cans of soda and i'm contemplative as to what effect this is going to have on me, especially as i am currently drinking from the fourth. I think i have a post-America addiction to drinking soda everyday being morally (or personally) ok. I then got home, had approximately an hour to shower and recouperate from being up since 4am and i played football. Not so bareable.

Now i'm sulking and want to be sociable with the one person i can't be with right now. I'm tugging on my own heartstrings. Day to day is leaving me grey.

I'm glad i got to wear shorts out this afternoon. I also never knew there were so many ways to kill yourself. I guess i learnt today about auto-decapitation. I think from this evening onwards i'm going to be wary of anyone tying their shoe on the edge of the pavement. Maybe i should carry some 'don't do it' pamplets for safe measures. Maybe i should stop thinking about this when in reality i don't care all that much.
Maybe i should just go to sleep.

It Can't Rain All The Time

I tend to find post-california life one big joke. Not only have i got a cold and sore throat but it's raining more than before i left and a balaclava-clad thug tried to rob my house last night - the sheer irony being that i was stranded in crime-strewn Peterborough at the time.

The matter of fact is NO-ONE tries to break into people's houses around here. Not only is Dereham horrifically confined, but everyone knows everyone to an extent that the proposed thief's mother probably buys her groceries off my parents. I currently feel further stranded in some poorly-concieved sitcom where burglars actually wear balaclavas and dress in black, avidly waiting in the hedgerow for my mother to leave to pick up her daughter who has had a mini adventure of her own during the course of the day; this ill-assembled blog the moral highground of today's episode and the character-consumer speech to make respective viewers out there consider the safety of their home and to be aware of when the last bus leaves so mummy doesn't have to come and rescue you at 11pm.

I'm money-pent and labour-addicted, worked today and work tomorrow. This is all i want to do with my time. I have plans to save up for that don't involve any of you.

Rest-less.

I've never fully understood 'jet-lag' but i think sleeping from 5.30pm-8.30pm and then 11.30pm-4pm constitutes as my time-concept being potentially fucked. I am still so tired. It's 6pm and i want to sleep forever.

Being home has so far resulted in me failing to get dressed, being constantly reminded that in 3 weeks i didn't get a tan and just missing someone so bad its like a dull ache. I temporarily enjoy day-time tv, eating unnecessarily and absorbing as much literature as my over-dosed-on-sleep eyes can handle. I'll get back on track when time starts running out and i actually start caring about things again.

Work yesterday was the epitome of horrific. I, within the space of 12 hours, decided i have a phobia of getting soaked in the rain, and should never try to be a nice person with less than 3 hours of sleep. I again ate too much unnessarily and will probably once reality has kicked in return to my yoga complex and enough aerobics to cure obese-britain.
Welcome home.

Life, On Repeat.

I always find when something gets repeated at random several times within a short period of my life that i truely question the means of 'coincidence' and 'fate'. Currently, 'Lewd Acts' has cropped up so many times within reading and coversation as of late when previously never before that i can only question why? I also question why i even worry about this little state of affairs. Probably because day to day at home my life is so repetitional that mind-boggling thought processes are the only way to make each day different, or meaningful.

Which brings me on to my main decision today (i have a main decision for everyday) that the best thought processes occur whilst pre-sleep. its the interperiod of getting into bed and drifting off where my greatest epiphanies (or conclusions about anything) occur. For a while i got into a habit of turning on the lamp and writing them down. Now i just lay there and hope my mind will be as active in the morning when i can be bothered to actually sit up and come to terms with the fact i'm still in that bed, in that room, predominantly on my own.

Ever ached for something so bad it simmers in the bottom of your stomach?
I completed my to-do list from yesterday within today's 24hour time span.
But i wore pink.

The Pursuit Of Happiness.

At 17 years old and 10 months the last place i'd expect to truely find myself is in someone else. I can honestly say i've never been so sure of anything, but its almost like a continual pulse of just being so certain of how i feel about life right now that i've never been more secure.

Being home is like having a gunshot wound, life is seeping out of me onto the floor like a liquid i just want to sieve back in. I long to leave again but no longer to get away from the paparazzi existance that is the 'hardcore scene'. I realised by just not giving a shit they disappear. I'll relish in gossip because i'm honestly beyond caring. I just want to feel as happy as i did the past two weeks, i was complete. I feel almost out-of-character typing this as normally misanthropy wafts around me like a bad smell. But i know whole-heartedly (and i no longer feel pathetic about it) what i want.

The plane journey home today was slow torture. I realise that air hostesses actually have the job of care-home nurses while on flight. All us passengers sit like vegetated pensioners while we eat mushy food in silence, are brought pillows and blankets and are poured glasses of water. I didn't sleep a single bit. I watched pocahontas and chaos theory and upon doing so have recognised the importance and success in compiling lists to make life easier, less 'chaotic'.

Here is my list for tomorrow.
1)go to the job center
2)pay £30 into the bank (to cover going 'heavy' on my suitcase weight)
3)buy a 'trash can' for my room (haha)
4)buy toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner and makeup wipes
5)wear black.

i'm in superficial mourning, and counting down the days already.
i love some of my friends with all my heart.

Predictability Complex.

Its depressingly all too apparent how predictable everything is in existance. Upon hearing about the poor turnout at the Bane show in Norwich whilst i was half way across the World i wasn't shocked. I'm also not suprised that I, in accordance, don't want to return home to this sorry state of affairs where half the 'kids' think they're too cool and half of them are too busy trying to be 'too cool' to turn up.

I'm not theoretically blowing my own scene-dedicated trumpet, i just think when a band as good (shut the fuck up if you make out you don't like them) as Bane get a turn out of 30 people in a place as central as Norwich i'm allowed to disrespect the people who think they have better things to do yet want to be someone's best friend if the 'in thing' is around a couple months later. If it sounds like i'm slurring my words and making no sense, this doesn't apply to you. But a lot of people know what i'm talking about and can thus understand why my current World-position is uncompromisable, i will with all my heart to stay here forever. Not because of the sunshine, the food or the still thriving contents of my purse, but because i don't feel let down or like i'm not worthy of those who are just too good to support their local scene.

In other news i'm going to orange county tonight and can't wait, intending to watching batman, hit up every show going from Wednesday onwards and eat my weight in cheese burgers. I want to find and not be found, watch and not be watched, exist but not be existing. This mind-relapse came in sunshine-state packaging.

Accents and Accidents.

Americanisms currently rule my life. As does having angst and not missing home a single bit. I miss my home, but not the UK. I love In and Out burger, the lack of responsibility and 24/7 do-what-the-fuck-i-want.
I've already decided what life at home is going to entail. I mean this dreamland of existance is surely coming to an end and so reclusion is the only option. I have plenty of essay writing to complete. A room to go over and memory-destroy and secretive projects i wish to complete.
Its funny what a change in life style can reek havoc upon once you get into a routine that was slowly but surely killing you from the inside out. Its cringe-worthy to say i have had an epiphany but it's so true i'm beyond cringing and more wishing the apocalypse would come already (apparently i say this funny). Apparently i say a lot of things funny; but i think this has been common place since i've had the notion to speak my mind, or just open my big mouth.

The only bountiful prospect of home is skateboarding, now i wonder what i can get away with taking back in my suitcase with me. Because there is too much here that i don't want to leave behind. Tu me merde.

Dollar Fever

Sunburn successfully subdued to an extent; i took a bold step out today wearing just shorts, that's right shorts not aided by knee high socks or tights to camoflage my red battle paint but plain standard 'flash them pins' shorts. It was liberating to say the least. Sure, i still had some dashing red streaks to add some urrrrr 'colour' to my legs but i no longer wanted to be cooked by my futile attempts to cover my beach blunders up.

We went shopping in thousand oaks (for the second time, oh dear) and i purchased the best transformers shirt since my NY boutique buy of feb'08 (yes i know we are STILL in 2008 but y'know). Being in california seems to not only have liberated my sun-shy thighs but my wallet; me and Clare can't help but shop. I don't even like shopping yet the prospect of outlets and sales and Betsy Johnson boutiques is overwhelming.

I'm getting kind of pissed, however, with the money other people expect me to spend. Its funny how friendship crops up around dollar time. Yeah i saved a fair wad to come out to the USA, but no i'm not going to spend it on you. I'm not even sorry; just realistic. I'm a student, who holds down two jobs just to run her own car and have a life outside of the library. I can't buy you every American item you ever dreamed of, let alone fit it in my inadequate suitcase.

mmmm Anaheim tomorrow, so stoked i can't sleep!

Burrrnnnnedddd.

Went to Malibu today, i underestimated the sheer intensity of how sensitive my skin is. After applying sunblock on the hour every hour i still got so burnt i can't move properly. It seems i underestimate a lot of things and a lot of people. I love the way of life here, although not quite true right now i'm comfortable in my own skin.
I'm so worried of what i will come to when i get home in three weeks though, so worried i wanna hide under clothes not only to hide the hideous red reign but to hide away forever. Its worrying how safe and happy i feel on my own.

I was going to go to the movies tonight but i'm in on my own surfing the net, which by the way is the only surfing i have done today regardless of cooking myself on Zuma beach from 10am-3pm. I've been here two days yet i already feel so out of touch with what i left behind.

Just so you know i know you're moving on. I'm being left behind too.
On a brighter note (oh the irony) i'm so excited for plans.

C U Next Tuesday.

T-minus 8 hours until i bid this hell-hole farewell for three weeks. This town has a somewhat quirky ability to squash hope like a bug or something equally as out-sized by the world in human form. I cannot wait for a break and to forget that people decide to hate me for being a 'stick with tits' or because i don't talk to one of their friends.

I guess this post is more of a notice to inform that i will leave blogs when and where i can, and do my best to stay in touch with the people that have done all in their power to remain in contact with me. I can't help but theorise and bullshit for a couple paragraphs everyday or so so no doubt you'll be hearing from my angst-filled chest cavity, as faux as it might possibly be.

My sister got back from Tenerife today and bought me a Betty Boop lilo, such an awesome present, although due to excessive garment-weight i shall not be bringing it to California and thus its first breach of water will probably be our bath tub. I think i'm packed, i'm getting up 2 hours early tomorrow to check again.
My heart lies in CA.

War is for Whores.

I went into college much against my will today but actually had a good time. Titled 'global awareness day' we actually only focused on Africa, while ironically quite expansive isn't the entire World... but none the less it was a good experiance using Lego for role play and being given the opportunity to design a bunch of t-shirts to be auctioned to raise money for the WarChild charity.

I got to debate in the afternoon over lowering the voting age to 16 which I (quite pathetically) am wholeheartedly for. I was informed that most sixteen year olds 'don't care' for what occurs in their country; i stiffled a giggle, coincidently they 'won't care' in 20 years so what difference does it make, why not give us young'uns who aren't ignorant cunts a chance to prove that no we don't want to pay road toll and yes, we're sick of you spending our taxes on horrific proposals of creative display.. e.g. a red memorial-wall in a hospital worth £13million that you later remove because it 'gives staff and patients a headache'. But then i'm not 18 yet so how can i give a shit about anything? Apparently age matters more than the capability to formulate an opinion, or give a fuck.

I'm sat drawing up these shirts and aching, it was the first match of the season yesterday and my butt and thighs feel like i've been clenched in a digger-claw. I'm walking like the girl who was paid £30,000 to let 30 guys fuck her in succession. Packing almost done, literally one day to go.
'Stoked on it'.

This Is England..

Working in fresh fruit and vegetable produce allows for me to come across the more 'patriotic' of our public; and to be quite frank, its a fucking old record. It's mind numbing being asked over and over whether 'this' is British or 'that' is British. Firstly, and foremost, it will say on the tag whether it is British or not and actually, when i honestly think about it, and thus predominantely your patriocy is bullshit. You claim you only want to eat British produce... how about quit wearing threads that some Indian child threw together at 50p a day and buying everything made out of plastic that was clap-house-founded in China. I get fucking tired of you telling me you can't eat something because its not British, i don't care about your dislike for the French.

Its people like you that make prices so high and my job so fucking difficult. When you knit your own cardigans and drive a Ford i'll take your country-men claims seriously and believe for just a minute you actually have any idea what you're talking about. British asparagus was ceased almost a month ago, just because Jamie Oliver is still using it on tv doesn't mean i'm lying.

I'm not proud to live in this country for a second. One of my dad's sisters just got given a 4 bedroom house for £240 a month for the fact she can't help but sit on her ass and get pregnant. California couldn't happen any sooner if it tried.

All Dressed Up and No Where To Go.

It's always when i don't need to get ready with haste that i do. I have this uncanny ability to get dressed and motivated with rocket speed when actually, this is the only day in about 2 months i haven't had to do so. So now i sit, makeup still application-perfect, hair relatively straight considering its lion-mane existance and clothes pristine asides the small orange juice drop i just accumulated on the front of my shirt; which is karma for being a smarmy bitch and drinking out of the carton.( i offically got smited by a packaged drink). I hate waiting for anything. I think i count down the days better than advent calanders for anything and its torturous, why oh why are the best things always the furthest away?

I seem to also be wearing my acid tongue today, one more sharp comment and someone will rip my head off probably. I can't help be perspicacious and then have a snide comment come out like word-vomit. I always end up verbally spewing something i shouldn't have mentally digested throughout the course of today but my word-sickness seems to be currently in abundance. I guess i am a little bitter that i am fretting over clothing for California regardless of the fact i have tons of it and i woke up at 7.30am today only to be at college for 15minutes.

I need to learn to use the sewing machine, my cut-up-band shirt creations are progressing to become what one could consider 'off the hook', clothes hook style haha. Ohhhh i need to get out. Los Angeles in 8 days seems like a good destination.

Guilt Trip City

I forever question people's ability within sex and nutrition and first aid education to make you feel like shit for existing. If i'm not belittled for being sexually aware from the waist down i'm spurned for not knowing how to perform CPR or go a whole day without eating something i actually like the taste of and doesn't close-resemble rabbit food.

In the space of 1 hour periods i was made to feel like the fact i'm even breathing is a crime. I merely instigated the legal stipulation behind voluntary medical acceptance of a cardiac-arrest victim and the help-whore suggested i'd mug the poor bastard lying on their deathbed with no intention of pumping their chest until they cough up a lung or something. I'm sorry patron saint of CPR i didn't realise having interest in something was a fucking crime? Maybe if i ever come across you dying of a heart attack i'll choke you a little bit and see whether you want to sue me then?

I made it more than obvious i was sexually liberated in the 'having it' session, not only did i win at putting the condom on 'percy the penis'(wtf?) but i aptly named myself Jessica Jism and continued to get every question right, if i didn't sound like the biggest slut in there then i'm the medical response's biggest fan.

It was a sucky day, not even a massive meal with dessert made it better. My sister is leaving for her holiday tomorrow and i can honestly say i'm gonna miss her a little bit? Am i losing my touch? I don't think so, i took it into my own hands to verbally abuse my football coach earlier.

i don't want to sleep alone tonight.

Who Are You Anyway?

I've watched the day go past my window, and everything has stayed the same. I woke up alone at 1.30pm. I can't help but feel absent waking up to complete silence and wandering aimlessly for a little while in next to nothing drinking juice and wondering what i am going to make out of having nothing to do.

I feel tired and withdrawn in all honesty, don't be confused. I'm content, just not quite here. I've been watching, and don't as me why, 'girls of the playboy mansion' and its bizzare how they all have blonde hair. Apparently although brunettes have more fun, blondes are more likely to get naked for money? I'm not sure, this program only reinforces society's warped view of the perfect figure. When you ask anyone to draw a chick they always have a super skinny waist and huge boobs, genetically, thats very unlikely. But also quite commical.
Maybe getting a boob-job would increase my chances of rolling in it as opposed to working hard for a degree? Or maybe I could just 'roll around' with the right people to ensure success. This could quite possibly be the biggest career decision i'm going to make.

This is my actual sugar-daddy advert. Apply here.
Hahaha i need fresh air before i think i'm Barbi Benton.
11 days!

Summer Sniffles

I forever question my inability to go a whole month without getting sick. Yes, i understand i have anaemia and yes, i understand i have a delapidated immune system. But honestly? I do everything a health-abiding freak should, i get rest, i moisturise,i cleanse, i eat plenty of fruit, i drink well. If i get one more runny nose or sore throat i'm gonna run straight to the noose so i can hang by it. I've sniffed so much my head is permantly held in a snobby posture and my head hurts from all the sharp inhalations and coughing that is sure to have rattled whatever contents it contains.

I've left the house for work at 3.30am the past couple days and not got home 'til 5.30pm. I feel like a slave to the working man's day, i miss using college as an excuse to neglect hard labour, yet want to to nourish the fruit of my loins with out the picking. I'm just picky, i want to have my cake and eat it. Even all this metaphorical use of food suggests i'm a greedy bitch, if only for a small fortune to spend plenty of dollar in the sunshine state.

I'm sorry for my ramblings, i'm tired, in a state of disillusion that is ache-induced, and i have small tasks yet to be completed that work just gets in the way of. I asked someone how he liked his plums today. I win.
12 days? you fucking bet it is.

Commit This To Memory

I woke up at 11.30am and stumbled into the kitchen to eat candyfloss for breakfast. I was kinda glad i woke up at this time and not my usual 2pm after a late night as i kind of feel half of the day is wasted, and as much as my bed is my other half, it can too get clingy and make me feel inadequate at succeeding in life.
However i'm now sat online, nursing rashy feet and listening to Motion City Soundtrack.

I pity my habit to start any day with great expectations only to exult in lounging half dressed and eating anything i come into contact with that has a lot of sugar, including toothpaste.

I can't express my distaste at speaking/using telephones. Whenever i try and call anyone they never pick up, if they do pick up i never know what to say or when to end the conversation. My phone personality is dire, especially as i normally only phone someone to break bad news, maybe i should run a funeral hotline. I think i've adopted a solemn tone that would be more suited to announcing death in the family rather than admitting i can't teach at summer school this July as 'i'm on holiday'.
I love saying that, i'm going away. Finally.

Mon Lit C'est Ton Lit.

Trying to belong to anything is a funny concept. I mean; 'if you can't beat them, join them' is a great idea and all but most people don't like to be joined. Individuality is the cherry to any icing and frankly, the people who try hardest to attain it don't have any of it. I don't appriciate girls pretending to like me in person and proving otherwise behind the comfortable capacity of their desk and their CPU. It's pathetic; if you can't get over the fact i too possess a vagina and too have the capability of attracting the male population then maybe you should scout for guys in an obesity clinic or a care-home. Even then i think your raging jealous-complex would ooze out of you like an oil spillage and people would avoid you like the anorexic do calories.

I think when i initially get over my penchant for driving at 3am listening to Motion City Soundtrack and racing the lights along the motorway and wandering around in my own comfortable capacity in underpants and a vest i'll worry even less about whether i belong or whether i'm happy bobbing along amongst the envy-bandits and their incapability to accept themselves. Its not good hating me for the size of my jeans or what guys i speak to because essentially you're hating on yourself, and it's very boring.

I went to two shows this weekend, again talking about belonging its funny how people change. I also now hate speed cameras more than i hate college, this is a conquest, they generally petrify me. I've driven so many miles that telephone numbers seem to have less digits. In a few words i feel like i have brain trauma. Sleep.
17 days.

Late Night Aches..

I haven't blogged seriously in a while. I guess i'm partially on a blogtox. I went to court yesterday and sat in on a murder trial. I think i've felt less intrusive walking in on someone when they're pissing. I generally felt like i was peversing the rules of privacy by sitting in the public gallery. As a law student in a law establishment; you're treated like shit. No one appriciates sharing their bad business, yet forever want to know the bad business of others.
It was a weird day, i never felt so saint-worthy in all my life.

I've finally got my tickets for california and quite selfishly i feel like i can stop acting like the war wounded, preaching about how hard i've worked and how i just want some time off. Hardwork to shite; i adore being a student, i adore leaving this shithole behind for 3 weeks to bronze and drink my weight in milkshake.

My time is currently filled earning every penny i can and making extensive lists. I can't sleep for late night cartoons and too much orange juice. I hate wishing time away, but this day countdown has got a-hold of me. 20 days.
20 whole days.

Growing pains.

I got tripped 4 times today. Going out with the rest of my family is not only painful but apparently quite embarrassing it seems. We went to the dentist and it was again, painful. My own dad tripped me up as i went to get my mouth poked. I think i've offically lost all dignity when venturing out in public, particularly as upon scrutinising other people for poor dress sense or toilet paper on their shoe; i'm forever the jackass with food down her front or the one to fall flat on her face as a result of a cruel inter-related joke.

Today only reinforced my hatred of the dentist. The waiting room smells of death, mostly because it's next victims have claimed all the chairs with their polyester trousers and free travel passes. The magazines are outdated, and convieniently they always have every ancient genre that you wouldn't read - 'Dentist Monthly' or 'Women and Home'; a poorly structured waste of tree that harvests women who would actually buy Kylie Minogue's Bedroom range as potential readers.

Upon finally making it past the department store cafe crew into the dentist chair i only spend the next 10 minutes wondering what they honestly think of the insides of my mouth and whether everytime they say 'good oral hygiene' they too think of the sexual connotation. Probably not. Probably just me. I was still shown the big plastic replica of a set of gums and teeth, made aware of the bits most significant to be tended to, and avidly invited back in six months time so she could shine a light in my eyes once more and i could feel as 'orally' violated.

Suffice to say that my life is unsignificant enough at this given moment in time to the extent that a trip to see the dentist is as traumatic as dying, or something.
I want to work out why i no longer paint my nails red, but opt for black...
just what is it i'm trying to say?

Carousel.

For once i generally have very little to say. I got up at 3.30am for work today without fuss. I sweat my ass off after making the mistake of wearing thermals in preperation for wet weather, am drowing in an abundance of sweets that i bought half price and once again got paid in £5 notes that make my purse look like a pimp's back pocket. I'm going out tonight for chips and pitta, cinema, popcorn and generally hating life but loving best friends.

I love how Blink 182 makes memories slideshow through my brain through every song, i can sing every word and love the song like its the first time i've heard it. sheer bliss.

Sometimes, everything just about seems ok.

How Do You Do's and Don'ts

The sun is out today, not entirely but enough in bouts for me to venture out with makeup and a smile on my face. I went alloy shopping (it was successful to an extent) and decided to take my dog for a walk. What i realised upon waving to several aquaintances with said smile on my face is generally how much more friendly this county of Britain is.

In comparison to more commerical, built up areas, we're more welcoming upon seeing people we recognise. previously when i've been out in other places with friends and they find themselves in the same situation, their 'hello' is more of a 'yes i recognise your existance but no i don't necessarily enjoy it'. You could almost say with our slow approach to life/technology plus the swaying difference in population means we not only take a more postive approach to acknowledging people we know but treating them like friends, regardless of the fact we know little about them other than the yoga class we once shared or the fact that they too shop in Tesco the day we do, usually, but not always.

Basically, its comforting, easily the only thing i'll miss about this little place asides the questionable fashion sense and even further questionable intelligence of its population, which could give hindsight to their greeting capabilities/preferences.

I've written a whole lot about nothing today, i'm temporarily defined by a quirky haircut that i don't like as of when it was cut yesterday night and another serious bout of yoga.

A Day Down the Gutter.

I feel ill today. A kind of 'i slept too long' ill that makes me dizzy and the fresh air from the window gratifying. Esentially, i feel rough. I want to shower but not yet, i want to dry my hair and admire it for once, not wish it was someone else's.
I'm feeling that kind of shallow where you're thankful for someone else having a bad day, or knowing that you're prettier than your ex's new conquest. A guilty shallow.

I did nothing today, how unaccomplished. I braved the outdoors for 1lb of carrots and a packet of fruitella. I shamefully glanced at anyone who happened to spot me out in my hoody and shorts, hair untamed and face naked and hope they didn't recognise that yes i felt like a mess and yes i was hoping they weren't looking at me like i was looking at them. For approval.

I guess you could say that mood; disgruntled. I don't like feeling like the kid everyone calls a skank at school. But i can't help waking up at 3pm and not wanting to get dressed. I sink with ease into lounging in pjs, eating weetabix infront of afternoon cartoons and doing the chores without haste or precision. Changing the sheets of my bed while i sway to Blink and hoovering with a notion of my feet not quite touching the ground. I'm quite apathetic asides my own disappointment at my failure for carpe diem.

Tomorrow when i go 'sweet rims' shopping i hope i'll seize the day. I have to get up at 9am; questionably a positive start. Probably not.

Thoughtfully Hungover.

Sometimes i wish i had the desire to get drunk. I don't know why I'm admitting this out loud, or within a space that people could read, take into consideration and judge me upon. But i sometimes feel drunk, like i'm acting like someone else, and when i have enough thoughts in bed to make me feel hungover the next day i wish i woke up drunk. So i wouldn't think like i'm thinking, act like i'm acting and say what i'm saying.

Sometimes i take pristine nail polish off only to repaint my digits in the same colour, i like to read the paper whilst i do this and think about other people's bullshit instead of my own. Maybe if i was drunk i wouldn't do such a thing, i'd think about going out and jumping hedges, kissing friends and singing so it echoes off buildings in alleyways and the wind carries it to everyone's ears who would disapprove. I know i have the capability to do this when i'm not drunk however.. and have before.

I worked out too much today and bathed twice. Well my second bath is pending but i can't wait to get in it, read my book and not only nurse my aching muscles but sooth my head. My thought processes make me drunk; i'm disorrientated and can't work out what has happened, is going to happen or never happened at all. I didn't like the taste of dinner, but i'm going to like the taste of icecream after my bath.


I've now decided that i don't have any rigid desire to drink, i'm not that fickle, to make this decision based on social preference or the fact that i want to forget most the things i do.

Home Sweet Home.

I haven't been behind my own front door for more than two hours in the last 4 days and i can't truthfully say i've missed it. Sure i've missed comforts like high juice on tap and my love-to-hate fuelled laptop but its been nice to spend over 80hours with Lauren and generally hate on life in a plural as opposed to singular cynical resent that tends to make me more feel like Dalia ++ angst than Jessica 'achieving but forever wanting'.

With the phrase 'i want out' i whole heartedly concur, sometimes i feel like trashing everything i'm interested in to live a life of listening to CD's in my car with my friends only for A-B to be Home-round the block-home and for days to be spent not driving to rumour-fuelled shows but in bed watching 'get rich or die trying' and wishing i too was a gangster rapper with more metal than sense. I no longer think summer is going to be about venues and live bands but car-trips and singalongs where we ride to get chips and pitta and icecream and not be glorified by word-from-mouth bullshit that consumes even the normally most placid of people.

I've had an amazing and shit weekend all at the same time, the only reason i'm glad to be home is that the only person to talk about me is me, and i've got very little to say.

Can I Smell Summer?

I feel out of touch today, it's mostly overcast yet i'm sauntering about the house in shorts, drinking coke straight out of the 2litre bottle and listening to blink with all the windows open. Summer definately fills me with a euphoria thats almost indescribable. I really believe that the sun, or prospect of sunshine makes 'same shit different day' syndrome less apparent.

I can't wait to drive to lowestoft later with Lauren in the front seat listening to crunk and racing boys up the A47-straight. I am going to live for moments spent with my girlfriends relishing our freedom and cursing every human being in existance to posess a penis. I pray we get enough sunshine this summer to do so every week, before i know it i really will be burning my bra and pledging alligience to the notion that although a single woman post 30 is more likely to be victim to a terrorist attack than find a husband thats how i want to be. I'll be the crazy bitch with 9 cats and a vibrator in her knicker drawer.

I am addicted to a ridiculous online game called 'fashion solitaire' and its tainting my ability to web-socialise and walk away from my laptop for more than an hour without withdrawal symptoms. Summer is the only solution.

'But I'd play with fire to break the ice
And I'd play with a nuclear device
Is it something I'll regret?
Why do I want what I can't get?
I wish it didn't have to be so bad'

Tired Eyes

Currently, i feel constantly lasooed by some dull ache that sits just behind my eyes and makes response slow. Whilst it feels like a handicap everything slows down kind of and i find it a lot easier to just breathe. I tend to find that i never have the time to take in my surroundings; well ironically, now i'm plagued with tired eyes i can. If just for a few extra seconds.

I woke up at 12.30pm today, initially i was disappointed, i never know how i manage to spend half the day in bed when i'm normally so pent on doing things and achieving something, even if its getting up early enough to insult one of my parents just before they go to work.

My love of weetabix and morning cartoons is expanding, well i say morning, cartoons anytime of the day seeing as i am also currently encapable of getting up before noon, regardless i'm in love. I couldn't feel more natural huddled in my sheets with a bowl and the simpsons for company; i have a secret adoration for big shirts and morning hair that is untainted by the general zeitgeist of feeling rough in the morning. I never feel rough, i feel at home.

I can't stop thinking about that exam yesterday and how i feel like i completely blew over. Then there's you..

'i'm not saying i can't live without you. I just don't want to.'

2.5hours to my last exams and counting. I woke up at 10 to spend the next couple hours consoling myself and eating cereal. I barely slept last night and had one of those confusing experiances of feeling like i'm asleep but the constant vomit of pointless thought and constantly turning the pillow for the cold-side soon reminded me that i wasn't.

The problem with life currently is its lack of entirety. Existance can be personified as a half eaten sandwich or the 40% coke 60% saliva in the last sip of coke. I never got anybody who claimed that, surely if it still tastes like coke and its your own saliva.. it shouldn't matter? Existing is waiting. Waiting for emails back, waiting for summer, waiting for results, waiting for the next step if its college, or a job or dying. Its the difference between queuing at the post office or for the ride of your life. I get bored of waiting, yet i'm always looking for the next big thing. I think there are two people in life, the people that do the finding and the people that will with all their heart to be found.

Now; back on to getting dressed and desperately trying to complete-last-minute cram any information i can on Stalin, and the bore that is Britain inter-wars. Again waiting for 1pm to come and go.
Jesse Bradford is a dreamboat.
And happy June folks, another month just disappeared with the tide.

A Pleasure To Have In Class

Tomorrow is going to be hell, quite simply. Work 5am-4pm and then 6pm-12am. Yeah fair enough its money but it'll soon spend that on comics, a tattoo, my proposed trip to california or on petrol. Half the time i can't even face getting in my car knowing how much its gonna cost me to fill it up. I feel sorry for anyone living in Chelsea, the price is a sweet £1.50 a litre. That's fucking ridiculous! Some article i read today stated that for every £75 you spend on petrol £44 of it is tax.
I then, after reading, compiled a short list of things i'd spend £44 on;
1)Some new heels
2)my plane fare
3)my tattoos
4)River Island
5)The rest of the Naruto book series
6)THAT bag out of soho-hip.

I dunno, what probably more resembles hell is the fact that regardless of how much they charge us, the problems they are trying to solve will never get better. They're keeping people alive a lot longer than they should and suppyling free health care to people who don't even have full British citizenship. Again in another article i read today however there is new law on disability allowance so finally they're salvaging some of the money being spunked out of the system.

It doesn't help i'm currently listening to Suicide File. And have been revising all day. Not only am i slightly disappointed in myself that i always kinda forget how amazing suicide file are but i'm physically sick of studying. I haven't even done that much studying considering but still if i make one more flash card i might just spontaneously combust or do a Britney and shave my head to get attention.

I propose for an early night, post reading in the bath and watching peepshow.
Save me?

Clear Views of Sea Blues.

I guess you could say i am writing this as i get up to make room for the rest of the day. This doesn't give me perspective on the day that i wish i had, but then when do i honestly have true perspective on anything until its long done? Basically i need all day to do some revision without the distractions of youtube, myspace and talking to people on AIM or MSN about pubes, boys and what constitutes as a good cartoon character. I have yet to shower, but i have yet to fully wakeup and realise that i'm gonna spend all day looking at books and internally cursing that i even have to take exams in the first place.

Its when i'm doing the things i don't want to do that i think about all the things i love doing; painting my nails, lounging in big tshirts and socks, going for trips wherever as long as im with amazing company, making out to deftones, reading in the bath, sharing 'those looks' with anyone where you mirror exactly what they're thinking, the creation of 'private jokes' in one-and-only moments, and waking up at 12pm and realising its ok to wake up at that time; you have nothing to do today, and that's just how you like it.

I guess nothing's ever simple, or truely well recieved whatever way its taken, and that's what makes it so out of focus.
All i want to do today is go to the beach. Come take me?

Le Generation Perdu.

I'm such a procrastinating procrastinator. I'm such a lazy bitch when it comes to studying and i resent myself for it. I'm a self-denying crammer, i leave it until last minute then cram like a fat kid robbing a bakery. I then bitch and moan until i'm delightfully suprised (or more relieved) with my results and always self-certifying in the claim that i WILL revise prematurely next time to avoid the self-torture i'm currently putting myself through over failing to study. But did i revise today? You bet your ass i didn't.

Nope i've been more concerned with reading, fretting over my grammatical errors, completely puzzles, eating noodles and watching films, all on my own. Oh i adore my sullen nature in times like these, i've bitten all my beautiful nails off though and i'm sulking. I've also got the most un-godly urge to watch wedding date again and coo over the line 'i think i'd miss you if i never even met you' - i'm not sure whether Carrie of SATC was right about modern life being romance intolerant. My life feels personal-'awww' absent... but then do i want to take a male hooker to a wedding only for him to fall in love with me? I don't think so.

I think the secret to love is there is no secret. We have our most awakening sexual experiances before we're even old enough to have them, and a lot of love is making sacrifices. How selfless of us. Someone said to me once that we die alone for a reason... so again i'm back to my day spent alone. It was pretty sweet..
Either way i think this whole feminism thing is getting ahead of me a little, i should step back before i'm refusing to shave my armpits and using Cyndi Lauper and the pledges of Mary Crisp as a bible to life.

'sleep all day, party all night, never grow old, never die, its fun being a vampire'

The World Ends With You

I've decided now i'm not plagued with exams and generally carrying college angst like a defective gene that i shall restore my faith and passion into comics and cartoons and anime. I've negelected Naruto terribly over the last few months and its pained me. I intend to spend the next few paychecks on novels and literature while i can, summer is so close that i cant bear it.

I really detest all the shit post my no.1 education enemy has sent me the past 2 weeks. As if having to endure sixthform September-June was not enough now they won't leave me alone via the postal service. Not only have they given me 6 compulsary summer school days to attend but they want me to go back again after to consider my oxbridge applications.. can i not think for myself at home? Do i not posess the ability to make my own decisions without being spoonfed pretentious bullshit about further education that only makes me want to fuck up my life as opposed to being Sixthform's next teen prodigy.

I also don't like poor reproductions of literature into film. I was mildly if not madly disgusted with the film interpretation of 'Enduring Love' by Ian McEwan; i can't remember for the life of me who directed it, but its probably good as i'd only call them a failure for completely avoiding the story-line like the plague and putting enough 'fucks' and other swear words in there to open a brothel.. Since when did Clarissa get stabbed? honestly? where did you read that? And since when has it been ok to change character's names in the book-film process? You also failed to mention the religious connotation other than once.. amateur considering the whole book is based on it. Maybe i should have stopped at failure. It was, i was genuinely (and quite pathetically) pissed off at the time.

I've resorted to biting my nails again like some agitated anti-socialite and eating so much sugar that i'm buzzing. Being sullen currently never felt so good.

'Is it asking too much, to keep you at arm's length?'

Saints And Sinners

It seems i've been pretty slack recently. Not only in leaving frequent blogs but in communication and retaining old habits that i feel i should. I no longer find time to spend forever brushing my teeth while i sway to MXPX or arrange my shirts in shape and colour. I also watched a film the other day and partially managed to invisage myself growing old with someone. This is relevent! What am i thinking? I can't give up on my youth-death drive now before the 30year watershed. I'm desperate to maintain my steel-balls attitude of fucking wasted life and being strong-willed if not physically strong. I need to get back on track to avoid being 25 and jobless with my knickers around my ankles and my kids ruling my house whilst their father binge drinks and walks down the shop to spend our benefits on stella artois and scratch cards. Extreme? Yes, Impossible? Definately not. Given the current position of the UK i'd say we've stepped into an era when anyone can throw their life in the trash, and 60% of the time do.

Only 2 exams left to go out of 10 and i feel like my brain is slowly but surely weeping out of my ears, i don't think my notion to analyse extends further than whether my preference on my toast for today is Marmite or Nutella. I'm sick and tired of always being sick and tired of things. I need to make it through this last week so i can smile everyday for 3 months before the whole process starts again and i miss everyone and everything i'd just done.

I've spent so much time with girls this week and completely relished in not possessing a penis. It seems now i purely exult in my sheer feminism tendancies and the urge to belittle men and wow the massess with my 'je ne sais quois' in regard to being the dominant one. I don't think its time to burn our bras, i think its time to get even.
Having friends leave things at my house is nice, i finally belong.

King of the Dance

In the discovery of new yoga poses and different chocolate treats to add to yoghurt i'm learning to let the little things in life keepme happy when exams and wanting more money to break free makes me feel like slitting my wrists. Papers with their 'surname' and 'other name' boxes and bank balances with no money in but too much money out depress me. If it wasn't for evenings with girls and bed on my own to try and remember what i'd bought/written during the day i think i'd just die inside. God bless the cobra, the bridge and the crocodile twist for their valuable input in my existance and on my waist line.




I also enjoy the new addition to my household. She not only enjoys cucumber and attacking her sister, but she greets me when ever i go to see her and has as much interest in running in circles that i do. I'm afraid this is as far as my interest in any photography what so ever goes. I exult in taking photos of her munching on whatever i've decided to try and feed her and running into walls in her exercise ball. I've yet to snap her pooing on anyone but with its frequency there can't be long until i suceed.


When its me and you together we will just fuck everything, because everything other than us can get fucked. We'll talk over tv shows and different flavours of cake and different movies and know it doesn't really matter, but it just fills the void of us being so glad we're an 'us'. We'll relish in our own cynism and soul optimism for one another.
I spend too much time thinking about what i've thought about, and yoga.

Going With the Motions.

I'm kind of floating along at the moment, bobbing amongst waves of revision and sleeping and gaming and stressing over exams, i'm revising tort law this morning and watching my dog sniff the same spot of patio for half an hour. It seems everyone is having trouble sleeping at night. I can sleep, hell i could sleep all day, its supposed to be summer period but everyone is in the winter woe; and to be honest if i'm not the person that's keeping you awake at night then i'm not interested. When we have all day to think about things i don't know why people wait until they want to sleep. Sleep is release, words can't explain how much i cherish sleep.

I can't wait to get out tonight and harrass Prince Of Wales Rd with kebab-shop dancing and ripping the piss out of any unlucky bypasser who happens to walk into our corner takeout. I can't wait for exam period to be over so everyone is awake all night not because they can't sleep, but because they're too busy partying and socialising.

I won't be defeated by defeatists, i am the cynic of all cynics and i'm telling everyone to cheer the fuck up. I guess this is me deciding life is too short to worry about who we are or aren't fucking and what we are or aren't doing. We can think about it, and want something so much we don't care if we exist anymore - but don't lose sleep over it. I don't.

The Elimination Process

Two AS papers down and eight to go, i can't help but feel i ballsed up paper one today in English lang/lit by providing my version of a town guide describing Great Yarmouth.. Great Yarmouth of all places. I induldged in a morning breakfast of two weetabix, cold milk, sugar and juice with the hope that it would evoke some literary genius within me come 9am, but no i wrote about 'cheap and cheerful' thrills and fish and chips.

My new found passion for yoga has given me the audacity of a tone-goddess. I'm working my way through the various poses and before i know it i'll have more chi than a pair of chopsticks. I wish i could get over my fitness obsession upon which i end up with ridiculous calf muscles and depleating boobs (which for some bizarre reason re-inflate the minute i consume any given amount of forbidden calories) and yoga in a way offers me a retreat; i feel womanly and 'workin it' in the solitude of my own front room where the local milkman and the fit thirty-something wont witness my red face and laboured breathing.

Last night's show was worth the main act. Cool guys and a Champion cover compensated the 40mile trip. Publicated hardcore porn, dirty punks and general dirt did not. Now, i'll relax, if only for one night, before exam slave labour starts once more and i mentally die inside and study my way to college freedom. Well until September.

Sanctions, Damages and Remedies

My day can be defined by my ability to devour a copious amount of biscuits and my current tendency to lament. My only bids to freedom were that of a 25min run, a trip to town and a revision class that had me out of bed at 7.30am. I mean, nothing says liberation better than busting my ass and running errands for my mother like Uncle Fester. I also took my dog for a walk, i never think this counts as an absolute means of escape as i'm normally plagued by mental discussions of education talk and general life review.

That and a convoy of young twats driving small cars who think that if they stare at you long enough you might just want to do them on their back seat. Paul; if you drive past me with your music blaring giving me 'that look' again i shall lean in one of your four open windows and vomit. I would sooner die or give up my libido than have ANYTHING to do with you and your shit excuse for a Saxo.

I guess wallowing in self pity is much like vomiting; it sucks and tastes bad but you feel so much better afterwards and can't help but keep doing it. Nothing is better than feeling devoid of all emotion other than that of your adoration for Custard Creams and small creatures with fur.

'oh no what's this?
A spider's web and i'm caught in the middle
So i turn to run,
And think of all the stupid things i've done.'

Inactivity is Death

After wallowing in my own boredom for too long i later resent not filling my time with things that i didn't want to particularly do at the time, but would have relished in having completed later, or now. I woke up at 11am (first lay in in too long), had a glorious day pre-amble of slowly-devoured cereal and the World news in typeface-form and enjoyed watching my dog fall into the hedge and try to dig through the patio.

I think just knowing you exist is the distinguishing of your desires and attaining them. In order to fully exist we not only have to give but to take, and to want to provide a part and be a part of our own microcosm that in continuum creates a utopia of microcosms that interweave and give us something to laugh, cry and reminisce over. I'm always wanting,desiring,attaining,falling. Destroying.

It's day 4 post-college finish and i'm procrastinating already, its 5.07pm and i haven't so much as thought of Marvell today, the poor bastard, for all his intellect and wit that i'm supposed to explore and eulogise (i made this word up, it sounds good though) i would rather eat my way through a packet of custard-creams that i'd later repent repent repent than study his work for the billionth time; which(the latter) in turn would deem me less full of angst over the given poetry and prose exam. However custard creams in their multitude can have this same mind-numbing effect.

Although summer is here i feel the need for chuck's, horn-rimmed glasses and my assortment of coloured sweater vests. Saying that the sun has just disappeared, which is either a sign for this to commense or a warning that sunshine zeitgeist is too gonna disappear behind the clouds.

Motivation Such An Aggrivation.

Sum 41 were completely onto something in penning said track. Absolutely everybody with the capability to breath comes to a point in their lives when you have to make defining decision. I'm desperately craving some sort of epiphany where i mentally combust and all future decisions i currently have to make on university and what direction i want to take my life will theoretically formulate in my eyes and i will no longer torture myself over Oxbridge or doing something spontaneous like escaping abroad that i'll later regret.

I am just SO bored.

I thought my weekend of retail therapy and ridiculous pedestrian escapades would cure some self doubt, but no, i'm only further twisted by mindless consumer mentality and general 'would-you-believe its' of world news. I am totally sick of the 'multiple talent' fashion in celebdom. Sophie Dahl has recently published a piece of fiction about teens losing their virginity and the irony of me being totally bored of them trying to do something new and exciting for themselves just kills me. Surely a celebrity of all lifeforms to grace this planet would accept they only have to be good at one thing. Before we know it George Bush will be releasing a fragrance that smells like piss and David Beckham's greatest hits will fly off the shelves at £2.99 a pop.

In the 5 or so minutes its taken me to write this article i know exactly what i want to do with life, i'll marry someone who has to be creative an intellectual, austere but with a tinge of uniqueness that makes me want to shave my head to fit in. My dress sense will never change, nor will my passion for reading in the bath and completing puzzles, we'll own a city house and i'll be a professor in English history to the extent any establishment will be licking their own balls to have me teach there.
Wait, i'm gonna do a Dahl and write a novel on that shit.

Making the Cut

I shouldn't have said 'just kill me' the amount of times i did today, i couldn't be apathetic about anything even if i tried, work amounted to a huge pile of shit irregardless of sun, crop jeans and croc shoes. Why am i always burdened with a copious amount of bad luck in daily-stints? I'd rather the odd shit thing happen to me as opposed to a full 'laurel and hardy' day of cock-ups and mishaps. If it really was in black and white and with no sound it probably wouldn't be as painful and i wouldn't contemplate walking into the Sheringham sea to drown myself like Virginia Woolfe.

I got home late, showered (still wanted to kill myself as i felt dead anyways) and just battled for half an hour with my excuse for a hair-cut. I ended up whipping the scissors out barber-shop style and still don't feel any better than before, i just curse the genetics of my hair folicles and wish the ground would swallow me up for a couple hours and regurgitate me with stylist award 2008. I feel austere, i don't think i want to feel austere.. i also think i'm having a sympathy-vote day where everyone is supposed to feel sorry for me just because i said so.

I'm currently in mental turmoil over the use of 'an' and 'a' when it comes before words beginning with the letter 'h', i also don't want to be sick anymore/would like to be rich/ would like to move Country.

Just a miniscule wish list. Oh and I'm going to London tomorrow until Monday night, sayonara suckers.

Hull with an 'e'.

Today was the last day of college and i wish this feeling was perpetual, i'm shaking in my boots over exams but i don't have to go back to educational confinement for three months or so, free-time is fufilling, as is earning dollar and revelling in general mental-hiatus. Although, yes, living existance as a student is responsibility-free-delicious,if i could go Columbine on a few people there i would.

I'm exulting in hot weather, in-jokes, and travel. Hull was an impulsive mission last night, but we made it, past the toll booth, pass Newark alias 'nowhere' and through the city center's numerous traffic lights, jams and trials. I can't believe the Country tour i've completed this week, i could go travel-diary on shit and review eateries, hotels and public toilets.

Exam preperation whomps, I have a cold (in summer?),I despise my inability to embrace complete grammar, i currently fashion enough bruises to qualify as an assault victim and mother says i've gone uncharacteristically 'awol'. Sweet.

A Rush Of Blood To The Head

Dessert and orange soda are my support, i'm fucking braindead from unrequited feelings, unreciprocated emotion, rumours and exam prep. Its realisation that makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit and the understanding that although i'm a clever girl i won't make the smart decisions and i'd rather bask like a fat cat in the sun and eat cake then approach bizzare post, law citation, and general social existance.

Revision has been accustomed to my current life style. However in studying cases with the sun on my back and the perspicacious nature of witnessing the sun slowly set behind the hedgerows the law citation merges into one and R v Miller is no longer the case of a tramp and a matress but a baby being thrown into a pram or a stabbed Jehovas Witness refusing a blood transfusion. My mum had the tact to tell me 'not to take my foot off the pedal now' but i'm regurgitating thoughts and facts in group-succession; things i've witnessed on tv or read in magazines or simply made up, all with speed and mixed direction. I have little time to engage, elaborate or elope with anything other than my own mind-processes, bright packaging containing products of high-sugar content so that taste isn't so sour and i don't throw up that little bit.

No, i crave to indulge in more material things than my own verbal spewings; 'The Last Horror Movie, my dog burning her nose on the barbeque, food fights, instant messenger and praying i make enough room for just one slice of banoffee pie.

Home is Where the Hurt Is.

You know its when you have had a good shit journey experiance away from home that going home sucks more than school on a Sunday. To break down 10 minutes outside of Birmingham, pay wads of cash to be towed, get taken the wrong end of the city and have to go to Coventry and back to rest your head yet still want to go back and do it again is nostalgic.
sleep gripped me bad on the way home but i further ached with disappointment that i'd return to drifting in and out of work, being a student and having no more pennies in the bank than diamonds on my neck, or ma grilzz haha.

Its not eating for 3 days and 'getting crunk' with anyone willing and finding everything in industrial proportion that made the past 24hours incredible. I fufilled roles of road-hussy, mechanic, pillow and just someone there to laugh and sing and moan and now want to go back to the road, the city, the north/south or midlands just to be me somewhere else for 5 minutes, or 24 hours.


However there are the comforts i was more than happy to embrace, not having to wear underwear, my dog chasing through the hallway, all the hair/body condiments in the world and the ability to bask makeup-nude sans the fear of respective rejection/scruffiness.
I also had the best shower of my life. Kudos to hot water, welcoming family and all the fanta i could ever drink.

You Give Me Heart Attacks.

One long weekend and three shows is going to be living life to its fullest currently. Being defined by college and work and sleep and sleeping at college means spending so much money that i don't have a pot to piss in is no big deal if i'm seeing a thousand people and spending a thousand minutes away from home, and college, and work, and sleeping at college.

Right now, life is somewhat amorous, when you desire being wanted for five minutes to feel like being wanted for a lifetime. The thousand people you see, you want them to miss you just a little bit so you feel every decision you have made in the past 48 hours have been the right ones. Even when i am doing what i choose i feel like i'm possibly spunking time up the wall that could be spent doing more better things.

The last two DTN shows have been good, one more to go, and i can't bear the thought of facing reality once more on Tuesday, and all the things i'm gonna have to try and forget.

'And I am bleeding,
and its because you shot me in the head,
and it wont take long,
before i break down and i collapse..
you give me heartattacks'.

Truth Hurts...

I wasn't shocked to read today that the head of the suffolk council recieves £220,000 a year, which is actually £34,000 more than the Prime Minister. For a country currently intent on taxing the shit out of everything and cutting the funding behind public services they sure see the patience of their constiuents axiomatically.

I get tired of my Dad telling me about how its devolved from 20 years of people spending money they didn't have. I wasn't alive 20 years ago ok, how am i supposed to get out of bed everyday pent on living life to the fullest when i know the minute i leave further education and get a job the Government are going to take every fucking penny i hold to my name.

I can just invisage still living with my parents in 20 years, or shacking up with 4 other people just so we can avoid still being under the roof at 31 and seek any slight ounce of independence in the World. Kill me now? Yeah suicide or murder is no joke, but neither is the bullshit British politics has become.

Basically, the sorry sad truth is that as a 17 year old A-grade college student with job-prospects and a general ache to make something of myself, i have no. Fucking. Hope.

When It Rains It Pours..

The thunder storm now raging outside my window has been looming like death in a care home and is going to happen but no one knows when, or how and to what extent. For about a week each day has started with sun and ended with rain, like every good thing ever tailed by something not so good. Its been contentious, its finally made its choice and everything seems to be falling to the ground with the rain and clapping in my ears like the thunder, flashing in my eyes like lightening.

At some point, and normally this point is repetative, everything comes to a head at once, its never a party with one guest and the same can be said about when shit hits the fan, its always in two's or three's or four's until you have an accumulation of shit timing and bad luck throwing punches while the other holds your arms back.
Its oh so very 'blog' of me to wrap whatever it is i'm trying to lament in flowery metaphors and imagery but truth is i'm so headfucked with just existing.

Everyone is so obsessed with materialism and good hair and possessions and what we should and shouldn't be doing. When really we should be fucking and loving and hating and just forgetting about how many 'killer heels' we own or how many words we know to any given song. Strip me of even my bare essentials and you have me.

So the day i can listen to what i want, say what i want, feel what i want to feel without jurisdiction that is the day i'll beg for you all to tell me what you think about my hair, my dress, my album collection or what its like to be something i'm not.

Is This Getting Old?

I had to work today as opposed to going to college which yes, is very naughty of me but i was helping my pop and earning some dollar, i also have work again later, how very productive/crazy of me as i wont be able to function for shit tomorrow. The amount i slave away makes me realise how much i dislike dossers, they are also normally the people who moan about what they don't have as opposed to what they do, when the only thing they're really lacking is the ability to take life by the balls.

One week until college is over for the summer, actually pant-wettingly exciting, all i can think about is free time and not having to do anything for 3 months, except work..

Down to Nothing Friday, being part of this so called 'norwich hardcore elite' is quite prestigious, for someone so intent on running all of us in to the ground a certain individual is only boosting my ego. When are you actually going to realise i thrive on your petty bullshit? You're the person a whole group of us laugh at as opposed to you and your mentally-indentical (and almost physically identical) verbal-tumour attatched to your hip, who laugh amongst just the two of you like library-recluses. I know you read this, this only further amuses me.

Too much happens at the moment that makes me question whether this is all there is..

Oh I've got the Aches

I can't help but feel that everytime i get into this position where my whole body hurts that little bit from exhaustion or hard work or stress that its my way of telling, well me, that i need to let go. If somebody poked me (and no not sexually) hard enough right now my whole body would moan i think, i need to do something to stop waking up and feeling like this everyday before i lapse into the mind-numbing activity of shuffling through everyday existance like a walking corpse.

There has recently been speculation that within the next 50years Europe will become the United states of Europe with all those involved in the EU its member-counterparts. As a liberal democrat i welcome this, its about time we broadened our horizons and accepted that we flourish with diversity and should no longer be consumed by the island-borders that leave this damned country festering with allowance-seekers, youth crime and general scum. Nazi Germany proved that you can't get away with culling the people you don't like. Offer everyone an alternative.

I want to escape basically. Find myself on a road that never stops.

Amphibium

Halfway-house, limbo, equilibrium. Alias no-mans land. When has there ever been anything good about being caught in the middle? It's at this point you listen to the darkest songs and either eat enough to hurl or nothing at all. Alias stuck in a rut and being completely sick of everything either side of the middle.
I do things like cut my fringe with paper scissors and beat my solitaire score to pass the time. Avoid 4 timed essays not because i should but because for now i can. I'll still be sat here in half an hour as opposed to doing them.

I'm thinking in clips from films and quotes from television and songs. I want things to happen just how they do in the movies, when everyone forgives everyone for their faults because thats what the viewer wants, needs. My calves hurt and i need to bath and have some small elf-like creature do my collegework so i don't have to.

It's a good job it's friday and tomorrow isn't a college day because i'd bunk more lessons to well, bunk life and sit on my ass for another hour and talk talk talk.
I don't even value half the shit that comes out of my mouth right now.

This is Hell was a good night, if it wasn't for Lauren and Chips and pitta for £1.40 i wouldn't have enjoyed it so much. Nothing beats witnessing people more lame than you to give your ego a sweet sweet boost.

'This is the only banneret,
That ever love created yet:
Who through, by the malignant stars,
Forced to live in storms and wars,
Yet dying leaves a perfume here,
And music within every ear:
And he in only story rules,
In a field sable a lover gules.'

Anti-Thesis and Why it Sucks

Its been as of late that i find myself constantly stranded in foot-in-mouth situations or anywhere-but-here incidents where i'd sooner have the ground swallow me whole or the grim reaper full-on consume me than have to deal with it. If conversation isn't about tampons or liking someone more it contains enough oxymorons to let me suffocate in my own confusion/reluctancy or about what to do with a future i'm less sure about than i am what its like to pee standing up.
Confusing? I whole-heartedly concur.

Although it's shameful to admit i've missed Hollyoaks for the third time this week and feel like i'm missing out. I've got tired-eyes syndrome 24/7 and would rather spend my evening reading in the bath and doing a wasjig than permitting to an active socialite existance.

'The Unfortunate Lover' by Andrew Marvell had me questioning any famous relationships in history that have been a success. All i could come up with was Cleopatra's affair with the notorious Mark Antony and Queen Victoria who's short period of wedded bliss resulted in early-death and a miserable monarch. Something about us all being born and dying alone. I think i was just cynically (and hyperthetically) sick.

This is Hell tomorrow... sweeeeeeet.

Sunshine.. or Sunshite.

It's not until the sun comes out that i realise what the people of my town, alias Dereham, do with their respective days. Now, you know shit's oldschool when the average age of the people that inhabit where you live is easily 60-something judging by the amount of OAP-trollies and the lack of space for price-payers on public travel... But if the people around here aren't the walking dead they're the walking lazy.
SO many 'youths' (media and general speculation of given age group) don't do anything, i've seen more kids sitting on garden walls smoking this morning than i have topiary-trimming, porta-bag pushing pensioners all week. Maybe this IS the place people come to die, or just live out their qualification-absent days in a fix of temporary jobs and benefits to be later spent on beers and tobacco. Or the 15 year old they managed to get pregnant. Again.

I have all afternoon to go jogging and do college work but i'd sooner eat chocolate and bask in the sun like an over-fed cat. The dull ache of wanting to yawn and sleep and merge one day with another until exams are over and summer starts is getting tedious. I no longer wish for summer legs absent of football bruises but for constant unconciousness until given trials and tribulations of my current life are over and i can laze about for 2 and a half months eating icecream and roadtripping.
Its safe to say for someone to comatoze me just for this waiting-period i'd surrender all my rice-crispie cakes and my still-depleating bank balance.

Sick of it all and wisdom in chains ruled last night, getting slimed by sweat condensation on walls and rubbed up aginst by aging men who are just as slimy was not cool. But then is it ever?