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.