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.