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I feel tired and withdrawn in all honesty, don't be confused.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.