Bleeding shields and broken glass

Hello, goodbye

2009-06-25T08:48:00.001+01:00

Roni Horn, Untitled 2001

2009-01-26T13:23:00.007Z

Capa / Falling Soldier

To be honest, I thought that the Robert Capa exhibition was overrated.

The photos just didn't seem to be artistic. They didn't have interesting compositions, they weren't aesthetic, they weren't even different.

Mostly they were unfocussed, unambiguous and unexciting.

Apparently Capa claimed that if you said your art was photojournalism, it would suddenly generate excitement. But the problem is that these photos didn't appear to be anything more than that. They are groundbreaking because they were from the front line, from a practically undocumented war zone. They were used for journalistic purposes only.

It's also bound to be related to the fact that photojournalism today is worlds apart from those grainy, black-and-white shots that Capa risked his life for. It's hard to interpret early, poor quality photography objectively, because the high-tech digital cameras everyone has today are so powerful with their mega-pixels, their complex processing, their auto-everything. It has made us consider photography a means of replicating reality rather that an art form used to interpret it.

I think Richter understands that photos can add an extra dimension to what you see. I saw his retrospective at Edinburgh recently.

His "photo-paintings" shouldn't be as profound as they are: you could think of them as a reproduction of a reproduction, nothing more.

But somewhere, subtlely, things have been added, changed, faces become more obscure, the sky becomes darker, people become edgier, more fragile.

Richter / Man Shot Down

I think that if Richter used some of Capa's blurry photos of Spanish Republicans poised and alone against desolate Spanish rocks, and painted in the tension, the melancholy that is missing... he would make them beautiful.

This is a good time

2009-01-13T22:58:00.001Z

to test whether or not CBT actually works.

childhood = nightmare

2008-12-02T12:41:00.002Z

I have had a sudden newfound appreciation for children's books.

In particular I think children's dystopian novels are so less often canonised and isolated than adult novels with just as much depressing, disturbing content. Not that I know much about this genre at all, but I think teenagers certainly have a healthy skepticism that adults often lack, and based on some of the books I have chosen for my Year 9 book club('How I Live Now' by Meg Rossoff, 'The Giver' by Lois Lowry, 'Noughts and Crosses' by Malorie Blackman), teenagers never seem to view dystopia as a drastic, nightmare vision of society, but more of an entirely feasible, almost familiar situation. I don't think this is because they believe everything they read, if anything it's the opposite of that. Teenagers have witnessed so much and are told to follow so many rules that it all becomes a hideous nightmare anyway. Maybe dystopia is just a metaphor for adolescence, as I'm pretty sure that 13-18 year olds are currently the most oppressed of all age groups: the most likely to be terrorised and demonised, the group most lacking in democratic representation, and those who are most exposed to the crushing disappointment of society.

2008-11-08T19:09:00.002Z

I don't know why there're been such an uproar about Dizzee Rascal appearing on Newsnight, I actually think he made some valid points.

2008-10-23T08:23:00.006+01:00

Librarians V Farmers

2008-10-17T16:24:00.004+01:00

Librarians	Farmers
Get to hang out with children	Get to hang out with animals
Unlimited books	Unlimited eggs
Peace and quiet (supposedly)	Lively animal sounds and smells
Clean	Filthy
Warm	May have to deal with extreme weather conditions
Minimal work-related stress	Numerous animal-related occupational hazards
Spend hours at a time stickering, stamping, covering books and spinelabelling	Spend hours at a time mucking out filthy stables
Situated in the haven of any school	Situated in the haven of a sprawling urban nightmare

Conclusion: all other jobs are dreadful.

(P.S. Learnt how to make a table on HTML! Disproportionately proud of this.)

Swings and roundabouts in education

2008-10-17T15:48:00.004+01:00

I'm shocked at what is happening to Adult Education. The existence of tuition fees in universities is bad enough, without partial privatisation of further education colleges, a necessity for adult social mobility. Currently colleges only receive the full cost of tuition for people aged 16-19, or those on benefits, most of which are forced to take classes against their will by job centres hence are unlikely to profit from them. Everyone else has to fork out extortionate fees, often without even the option of paying a concessionary rate. Consequently the classes are so undersubscribed they are often cut, partially cancelled or made more expensive. I have already paid £375 for my A level Biology class, only to be told that due to an (unsurprising) shortage of students taking the class they would have to cut two thirds of the lessons, meaning there would not be enough time to cover the syllabus, and instead a "drop in tutorial" would run every three weeks. This is not only a scandalous rip-off but also a complete let-down, especially as people were only told about these arrangements after they had spent several hours enrolling. The fact that they even run courses that are "Full Cost Recovery" with no discount regardless of income strikes me as deeply unfair and also inherently agist: if you haven't got all the qualifications you need by the time you're 19, then tough luck, there are no more educational opportunities available to you.

On the bright side, year 9 SATs have been scrapped with immediate effect, taking some of the brutal exam pressure off 14 year olds. Whilst the teachers at my school were cheering about this the perhaps more perceptive year 9s were skeptical: "it's all the same really, we've been threatened with end-of-year assessments instead" said one, "and they'll probably make us do more church services 'just for fun' ". Obviously the "creative opportunities" we were promised was another staff room euphemism.

Working in a school is quite disorientating sometimes.

(It's exactly like everything you've ever seen on Teachers as well, by the way.)

Kids never get bored

2008-09-29T16:07:00.000+01:00

The top three recurrent jokes in the library are:

1. Writing "lol" instead of your name on the computer booking form.

2. Pretending to read the Bible (or something else suitably long).

3. Stealing mouse balls.

Catless again

2008-09-20T12:01:00.000+01:00

Among the scribbled tangle
of the branches of that garden tree
only about two hundred
lime-coloured leaves still shudder

but the hunting cat
perched in the middle of the scribble
believes he's invisible
to the few sparrows visiting
the tips of the tree

like a giant soldier
stnading in a grey street at noon
wearing a bright ginger uniform
hung with guns
hung with grenades
who holds a sprig of heather up
as he shouts to the houses:
Come out! It's all right,
I'm only a hillside!

- Adrian Mitchell

Louis never did have much stealth.

The Plot Against...What?

2008-08-21T21:41:00.003+01:00

As regards Philip Roth's 'The Plot Against America' I find it confusing and self-indulgent for the writer to create an 'alternate history' as part of their work. Not only does it render the narrator unreliable and his opinion irrelevant but it also calls the reader's entire social consciousness into question. If an important historical truth is disregarded, surely our entire perceptions of history and morality are also changed, leaving the reader feeling completely disorientated and excluded from the story.

It's interesting to consider how history rests on certain pivotal moments: assassinations, elections, war declarations, coup d'états. But taking this "What If" approach to history seems like a grave insult to our understanding of both modern and historical society. A much stronger, more thought-provoking and progressive way to challenge our assumptions about society is surely to set this 'other' social scene in the future, thereby presenting far more of a sense of possibility and also leaving the reader's interpretations of the past untouched. It was not the wildly unfamiliar setting that I have problems appreciating, just the blatant impossibility of the situation.

My dad said he had heard a BBC radio drama in which Hitler had successfully occupied Britain during World War Two, the effect being to demonstrate that although the French leaders collaborated and betrayed their citizens, the British would have behaved just as atrociously under occupation. There does seem to be something powerful about this scenario, so perhaps what makes Roth's novel so misleading and self-absorbed is that he tells it as though it is his autobiography, using his own family's names and places, and probably manipulating real events that took place, but flippantly altering historical events for his literary convenience. After a while I found myself groaning in disbelief, as factual biographical details were intertwined with fictional nonsense. If this book is an account of the author's childhood, surely the creation of an fantasy alternate history is directly contradictory to the nature of his writing?

2008-06-20T15:32:00.005+01:00

I am making a tentative return to blogging, with the realisation that unemployment has given me a distinct lack of structure or purpose in my life.

In actual fact that's what's great about not having to work, the ridiculous freedom, not just in terms of time but also being able to think and live without work-related anxiety lingering at the back of your mind.

I love working, but I'd been at my job so long it had started to destroy any remnants of creativity I have left. Besides I'm pretty sure 80 or 90 percent of anxious or depressed thought comes from work and its elevated status in people's lives.

Went to see Psycho Buildings yesterday at the Hayward Gallery. I always approach site-specific, interactive, installation art with an open mind, but nothing could have prepared me for a real lake full of wooden boats constructed on the roof of the gallery, or for a transparent, spherical dome with a platform suspended by air pressure. It's a beautifully architectural exhibition, combining structure with beauty, and also pushing the boundaries of large scale installations, these weren't sculptures, they were palaces and islands and grandstands. You viewed them as an insider not an outsider.

I've been sleeping and thinking alot recently. I think walking around inside a huge construction made out of tissue paper and wire mesh was exactly what I needed to give me a little bit of perspective.

2008-06-19T15:09:00.000+01:00

I miss those babies.

2007-05-12T14:33:00.001+01:00

John Armleder at the South London Art Gallery

Hopefully no one will notice this.

2007-04-07T20:40:00.001+01:00

This is my 200th post. I'm really quite tempted to put this whole blogging thing aside after this. It's lost its charms, and seems to be doing more harm than good. I have virtually nothing to broadcast on the internet these days. And I'm not sure I want people to read everything I've posted in the last two years. I know I've said this before.

Today was the easiest day's work ever. Spent the morning supervising an easter egg hunt and the afternoon doing cart rides. It was all sunshiny. Our baby calf has been named Buttercup, it was my choice. Spring is here, my boss is on holiday.

The house is in a tragic state.

I watched a pirate version of Spiderman. I haven't eaten anything yet. These sentences seem a little too short. I'm not feeling in the most elaborate of moods.

Perhaps some day everything will change.

It's harrowing, being alone.

Goodbye.

(I was going to finish this entry with a cryptic existential quote, but actually, fuck it.)

2007-03-02T17:14:00.000Z

We had to suggest names for two piglets today. Couldn't really think of any girls' names. So I put my sisters' names into the hat.

I now realise it would be somewhat weird if the two pigs were actually named that way.

Another month gone.

2007-02-03T21:38:00.001Z

What happened to the last few months? A few minutes ago I was sitting in the remnants of Christmas in a post-celebratory stupor and now all of a sudden it's February and the sun is shining again and I've applied to university and taken exams and found some vague meaning in my life.

I didn't expect this year to take sudden turns for the better, but then I didn't expect most of what's happened in the last few years. Perhaps that's when you know you've grown up: things become less unpredictable, you reach security and stability, you trust yourself and your own judgements. In other ways I've hardly changed in the last decade. I still worry all the time about nothing. I still live in a chaotic, self-induced hell-hole of a room. I still find pleasure in the simplest of things: ice cream, music, tranquility, company. I'm still incapable of turning up on time for anything. I'm still muddled, I still lack faith in my own convictions, I still preach passionately to others and then later wonder if they were right all along.

Basically this was a gem of a month. I've found some energy from somewhere and it's doing me the world of good. I've been going to classes and managing to stay adrift with the work. I have friends and plans.

Two good films and a rather disappointing novel this month. Venus is thoroughly entertaining and fairly original, an audacious take on the generation gap with plenty of funny dialogue. Of course, all the characters were openly stereotypical: the moronic, disenchanted, diagreeable youth living off junk food, the helpless, cynical old men, the abandoned wife. The film was a 2 hour long mockery of youth and old age, and at times seemed misogynist, perhaps even a
desperate attempt to appear controversial by providing a lame justification for dirty old men chatting up young girls. But it was funny, and lighthearted and the plot tied itself together well and it was a bloody good film.

Joey gave me The Edukators for Christmas. It's pure genius, and clearly the best film I've seen in ages. There was so much to think about and take in, so much intelligent, engaging dialogue and a genuinely sensational plot. It's political, but it's also about social evolution and the human condition; the balance we struggle to maintain between personal gratification and global consciousness, the decisions that can destroy us or reassure us. As someone disillusioned by the disinterest and passivity that seems to render free thought and activism useless nowadays, I was mesmerised by this film.

Zadie Smith's third novel is a catastrophe. As usual her characterisation is sensitive and engaging, her dialogue is sharp and her ideas are flowing, but the plot is a disaster. The book was patchy, nonsensical and lacks structure or meaning. The pretentious echoes of Howards End were truly depressing and did not seem to make any sense in the context of the story; in fact I find it insulting that Smith dared to integrate the ideas of such a masterpiece into her own work. They didn't even make any sense in the context of the story. I am confused as to what On Beauty is meant to be about; is it meant to be some kind of profound exploration of modern aesthetics? A radical portrayal of class- and race- related confrontation? Or just a warm-hearted feel-good novel about a priviledged American family? What Smith has done is half-heartedly combine these three into a patchy, rambly book which lacks direction and any kind of resolution. It would need far more editing and far fewer characters it it were to make any sense at all.

E M Forster will be turning in his grave.

Blue to grey, grow up and blow away...

2007-01-08T21:44:00.000Z

I noticed today that I am completely covered in cuts and bruises from this job. I have pulled three splinters out of my hands this evening after spending the day sawing branches off trees, not to mention the bump on my head and severely injured shoulder I have from being knocked to the floor by a hyperactive 18 month old stallion yesterday afternoon. He's uncontrollable at the best of times, but yesterday he decided to kick me on the shoulder, tread on me and escape across the park leaving me with a nosebleed, calling for help on my walkie-talkie. I guess it's these incidents that make my job exciting and different, if also dangerous and stressful. The daily feeding and mucking out gets tiresome, but often we get to do things that are actually quite fun: vaccinating rabbits, painting walls, constructing fencing, pruning, planting bulbs, worming horses, carving pumpkins, grooming, clipping hooves. It's all useful and productive too. The downside is when I get home I've barely got the energy to stay awake, let alone cook dinner for my family, revise for exams and go to evening classes.

Going to university will feel like a step back: I'll be doing things for myself rather than for other people. I'll be a student rather than a worker. Worst of all, I'll no longer be financially independent. Going back to relying on my parents will be pure torture. And will a history degree actually lead to an interesting, fulfilling career anyway? I long to study something related to my job, but that's harder than it sounds. Especially considering I almost failed Maths and did substantially better in humanities than sciences.

I'm behind on all my courses, I'm struggling to get enough sleep and my room is in its usual chaotic state. The eyeliner I'm wearing is from yesterday, or the day before, and the only way I manage to do my job properly is by drinking the strongest coffee in the world every morning. But I have virtually nothing to complain about, because I choose to live like this. And it's not a bad life. I'm almost going to miss being a dishevelled, melodramatic farm worker living a stupidly eccentric lifestyle.

Perhaps university is overrated...

My New Years' Resolutions:

2007-01-02T15:36:00.000Z

I will wash my clothes.
I will be on time for work.
I will be nice(r) to my parents.
I will spend less money.
I will do my homework.
I will not waste time.

To be honest, the above have been my resolutions for the last seven years and I still have little hope of keeping any of them. Less than 48 hours into 2007 I have spent most of my time sleeping, reading, procrastinating and miserably cleaning up the house in time for my parents' arrival this evening. Of all the house parties I have held, this one left the most mess. By far. People had thrown up on three different beds. There was ash and wax all over the kitchen and living room. Drinks had been spilled on every surface and carpet. Glasses had been broken. In was a disaster. Although after a couple of hours the situation looked alot less worrying.

I have managed to spend nearly £300 over the last two weeks. This doesn't include £100 rent plus the £65 that I owe my parents. I have no idea what happened to that money. I seem to have spent most of it on food and drink, yet there is still virtually nothing to eat in this house. Today I have eaten three muffins that Michael Gardiner left in my fridge and two tomatoes. All my spare change has mysteriously vanished (I'm convinced I was robbed by someone while everyone else was distracted by the New Year shenanigans) and I really really don't want to withdraw any money from the bank.

Despite this distressing situation last weekend was wonderful, and also incredibly reassuring. I still have friends and family and hope and inspiration. Even though I lack many things (organisation, self-discipline, self-restraint etc.) I am going to sit down and apply to uni and try and be a better person. Until I get bored.
x

9 days 'till Christmas. (I'm working 7 of them.)

2006-12-16T21:17:00.000Z

I have destroyed my health. This week has killed my soul. Monday: concert then drinking, Tuesday: theatre then drinking, Wednesday: Maths class then drinking, Thursday: pantomime then drinking, Friday: much eating and drinking. I've been taking about seven Pro Plus every days, eating sporadically and unhealthily, watching online videos obsessively and revising infequently. The mess on my floor is now completely out of hand, I can barely get from the door to my bed without stepping on breakable objects like jewellery and CDs, or tripping over things. I have no future and feel thoroughly lost. My short term memory is abysmal. I can't sleep at night yet feel permanently exhausted. I haven't washed my hair in nearly a week.

To cut to the chase, I'm pretty broken right now.The pitiful amount of Christmas shopping I've actually got done is lying crushed somewhere amongst the mess on my floor. My parents are also infuriating me with their constant financial demands and snide remarks. All they seem to talk about is: when I'm going to cook for them, how great Christmas is going to be without me and when I'm going to pay the rent. And why are they so desperate for my money? In their current account they have £4012.19; together with my rent they have £5012.61. This is their current account used solely for groceries and standing orders! On top of this they have five-figure savings, a six-figure annual salary, two houses and very comfortable pensions. I'm happy to pay rent, but why must they think about it with such disturbing anticipation? Why must they bring it up at every meal? Why must they have anxious conversations about their money as though my cheque is a contribution against their impending poverty?

How do people do the whole going-out-every-night-and-working-every-day thing? Even without evening classes it's a real challenge. Socially it's been a marvellous week, but I'm ready to sleep for the next fortnight. Opening my eyes every morning is pure torture. This wasn't a problem in the summer working at the pharmacy, so either the farm labour is just too much or I've aged several years since then.

I'm feeling a bit chilly, maybe I can convince my mother to switch the central heating on for once, without being scolded for having no ecological conscience or preached to about the cost of energy.

On second thoughts I might just put an extra jumper on...
x

But now I know I'm glad I came.

2006-12-12T16:26:00.000Z

So now is the time I'm meant to make decisions. Taking a gap year was meant to give me endless time to decide what I'm going to do, but already I have less than a month before the university deadline, and there is simply nothing I want to study. Well, it's more like there's nothing in particular that I want to study, I have hundreds of interests: in art and music and politics and architecture and history and science and literature and languages, but this is meant to be more than a vague interest, it's meant to be a passionate financial commitment. And I should be motivated by serious academic study rather than the 'student experience', the freedom and the opportunities, the cheap beer and the lie-ins.

I'm having so much fun lately I'm not so bothered, but I'm constantly aware of things ending and moving on - played in my last ever orchestra concert on Saturday, and I'm visiting people at university and accumulating money that I'd rather not spend on rent in student halls. It seems to me that this country provides little for 18 and 19 year olds other than university: it's become a logical, almost socially obligatory stage in life, and this is disturbing considering tuition fees now mean there will be less people going to university. I'm having loads of fun going to exhibitions, visiting people, studying, earning money and having freedom; but I also constantly feel as though I'm in limbo, milling around not doing much compared to all those ambitious people getting degrees. Shouldn't it maybe be the other way round? Sometimes I feel like it's the students who are really taking the easy way out. Of course studying is strenuous (well, maybe not all studying...) but nowadays it's pretty much the most obvious option walking straight out of the school gates into university, taking out a huge loan and getting on with it. It's not that I'm trying to feel smug or self-righteous, but it seems more logical to me to get some practical experience, some self-discipline and of course some money before you embark on the whole fiasco. At the same time, why do people view taking a year out as some kind of preparation stage rather than an experience in its own right? Why is a year out so acceptable while taking two or three years, a more realistic time period considering the reasons for gap years in the first place (indecision, travel, money etc.) makes you some kind of laughing stock? Perhaps it's a form of control, a method of grouping young people together in institutions across the country away from the rest of society. A bit like young offenders institutes.

This isn't a serious argument by the way, just a stream of conciousness. I'm caught in a dilemma and trying not to make mistakes, but it's oh so difficult. Drank far too much coffee yesterday morning after not enough sleep and ended up in a total state trembling and feeling nervous and panicky. All I think about is what I'm doing next year, it's become some kind of fixation.

My desk partner of three years is leaving the orchestra. Went out for his birthday after the concert and had an interesting combination of drinks: Baileys with milk, Malibu and pineapple and banana flavoured Zambuca. Realised at ten past midnight that my bike was locked inside the town hall so some random guys climbed over and got it for me. Cycled home in the icy cold in my concert skirt. My bed is now covered with so much mess that I don't even bothered to chuck it on the floor, I just clear a human-sized hole and cover myself with blankets. Woke up far too early, went to Specsavers and spent £60 on a massive pair of glasses similar to the ones my dad wore in the seventies. I could regret this. But even though I spend recklessly, worry myself to sleep at night, watch the OC so much it affects my health and sometimes feel painfully lonely, I get by. More than that: I have strangely good time despite it all.

Maybe next year I'll get a farming job in New Zealand and escape from everything, milk cows, read books and find some peace of mind. Now that's a plan.

(A serious one, too, believe it or not.)
x

Lock the doors and close the blinds.

2006-11-30T11:50:00.001Z

Today I went to work on five hours sleep and my lunch was a packet of custard creams. Not a particularly good or healthy situation. But somehow I've made it through another 7 days of work, another Maths class fuelled by strong coffee. I'll probably spend the next two days sleeping.

Edinburgh was so brilliant that I'm thinking of going again. I never realised it was full of beautiful buildings, art galleries and vintage clothes shops. Nor did I realise student life was such a haven of sleep, freedom and cheap drinks. This is precisely why everyone goes. You are treated like a human being. It delays having to plunge into the bleak, exhausting world of work where you have no choices, no time and no self-respect. On the bright side, I do live in the biggest city in Europe. I have few friends, but more siblings than most. I have a life, or fragments of one. I read (less than I should), I try my best to get by, and occasionally something wonderful happens. But I don't want to be stuck in this lifestyle and I see no way of getting out of it. I still have virtually no idea what I want to do with my life and every time I develop a flickering image of my future something happens to change that.

Someone left half a sticky toffee pudding in the fridge this morning. Possibly the best breakfast I have ever had.
x

2006-11-12T16:38:00.000Z

One of my colleagues said today that she believed in "sticking to your kind", i.e. not dating someone of a different race to you. It was one of those sentences that begins "I'm not racist, but...".

I have to get away from those horrible people. I have to.

Stormy weather

2006-11-11T21:44:00.000Z

My life has now become so mundane that when good things happen they now feel wonderful.

Work gets me down so much. Not the actual work itself, but the constant bullshit I have to deal with from my boss and my colleagues. The latest is a 15 page document for my 2 month probation period, consisting of pages of pathetic comments about every aspect of my performance at work. It's like a fucking school report only far, far worse. Most of it is completely inaccurate as my boss has no idea how good I am at my job because she sits in an office all day (when she actually turns up) and makes minimal interaction with other members of staff. I am now meant to write a response to every single comment written on this piece of garbage: "please don't leave any boxes blank - even if you write "I agree"'. I don't agree. I disagree with all of this pointless drivel. But of course I shall sit down and churn out some meaningless comments because that's how you keep a job these days: you do everything they tell you and agree with everything they say. Why should I behave as though they are doing me some kind of favour by employing me? We have reached a professional agreement, I don't owe them anything. And why is it impossible for my boss to communicate with me in a more normal, rational, concise way: i.e. by talking to me as though I am a human being.

I am outnumbered. Everyone else there has either been there so long they have become unrealistically defensive about the way things are run, or they are related to the boss.

At lunchtime I was so disillusioned I went to the cafe and ordered a jacket potato and 3 cans of Coca-Cola. It reminded me of when I would do this every lunchtime in my old job. For a moment I wished I was back there. No more backbreaking labour, no more time-wasting paperwork... it really was an easy job. I hated it though. Why do we spend our lives yearning for things we don't have? I couldn't wait to escape from 6th form, thinking I'd feel liberated and passionate and reckless once I'd left, but in truth school provided a type of stability that I'll never get back. I knew working would be bitter and boring and emotionally draining, but I didn't think that in between work the hours would flutter past me quite so quickly. And I never imagined I could feel this painfully lonely. That I'd still feel vulnerable and stupid and indecisive. That I'd be constantly looking for an easy escape, a way to get me through another hour, another week. When I cycle home I barely have the strength or motivation to push the pedals.

I am so anoyingly sensitive that I dwell on things people say to me for weeks afterwards. Even if it's my boss who says them. Especially then.

Thank you to Ben, my only friend in London, who patiently listened to an extended version of the above on the phone tonight, without telling me to get a grip. I need to learn to shut up. I wish I was as nice as he is.
x

2006-10-30T20:23:00.000Z

As I was putting eyeliner on this morning it occurred to me for the first time in my life that I look better without it. Am I getting old?

she was a danger to herself

2006-10-24T23:04:00.000+01:00

I am now officially sick of work. I was attacked by a seven foot long Berkshire pig today. It was one of the most terrifying things I have ever experienced. Ironically Berkshire pigs are described by the Rare Breeds Society as 'vulnerable'. He savagely sunk his teeth into my leg. I now have a massive purple bruise.

I miss weekends so much. Seven day shifts are fucking cruel. I miss holidays and lie-ins and friends and feeling young and not having to wear filthy shapeless clothing. Obviously this job pays incredibly well and there are numerous advantages and high points, but today was a horrible, depressing, emotional day. Afterwards I wanted to forget about everything so I went shopping and spent too much money (well actually I only spent £25, but I feel disproportionately guilty any time I spend any money at all these days. It's probably because I'm feeling so old and withered and sensible.) The cherry on the cake was getting lost in the dark on a bike on the way home and practically ending up in Dagenham. I was cycling along one of those badly-lit alleyways next to a motorway junction, exactly the sort of place people get raped and murdered. Why am I such a depressive nervous wreck at the moment?

In The Observer on Sunday there was a long article about the shambolic disastrous state of the juvenile courts at the moment. I hate it all; not just the ASBO-powered, agism-fuelled governmental attack on young people but also the calculating, repressive way that people are being criminalised for legal, legitimate behaviour. ASBOs are a devious, incongruous way of repressing groups of society that have the potential to influence our thoughts: namely young people and political or non-political protesters. And our government is prepared to use social stereotypes and outright prejudice in order to portray innocent, and often vulnerable members of society as some kind of threat. In exactly the same way British Muslims are also being targetted through Jack Straw's intrusive, ludicrous comments about women who wear veils. The government's campaign against Muslims in this country is no more than racist scapegoating, and again a method of depicting legal, normal behaviour as somehow dangerous and destructive. As printed in a SSAW email recently "Do you think Straw would ask a nun to remove her habit? Do you think Straw would ask a punk to remove the safety pin from his/her nose? Would he ask a Rastafarian man to shave off his dreadlocks? No, because the government along with the mass media is peddling the disgusting idea that Islamophobia is the only respectable form of bigotry. "

It shocks me that the government now find it acceptable to comment on what people should and shouldn't wear, let alone arrest someone for not keeping to a curfew or protesting peacefully in the street without prior permission. According to the report, off the 3,135 ASBOs that have been handed out to young people since 1999, 1,100 of them were to children with a diagnosed mental disorder or accepted learning difficulty. This what our government perceives as a threat: not Israeli tanks in Lebanon, not cluster bombs, not Drax Power Station, not illegal occupation, but disillusioned, disadvantaged children, Brian Haw and women who wear veils.

3 days 'til the weekend.
23 days 'til Edinburgh.
17 working days 'til Edinburgh.
61 days 'til my lonely, empty Christmas.
In 9 months and 7 days I'm going to quit my job.

Put like that, everything's almost bearable. +_+
x

A little crushed around the edges.

2006-10-17T22:12:00.000+01:00

It's daft to think about Christmas when it's mid-October, but I've realised this year it's going to be surreal. My parents are going on some beserk holiday to Morocco, in a typical "we're aging hippies trying to reinvent ourselves now our children have finally left" statement of defiance. My siblings are scattered across various unreachable parts of London, and as well as that I am meant to be working on the 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th and 29th of December as well as New Year's Day. I could:
a) purchase an M&S Christmas Dinner ready meal and celebrate Christmas alone
b) gatecrash someone else's family celebration
c) get involved in a ludicrous plan of cycling to South London for some company, or
d) boycott Christmas: pretend it's all not happening and do something better.
To be honest, Christmas is an overwhelmingly stressful period and avoiding all the hustle and bustle could be quite a relief. I'm not complaining, I'm getting triple pay anyway.

At German today my teacher started a discussion about what we thought of the politics of Angela Merkel. Three weeks of basic German and we're meant to start a complex debate about politics! This is terrifying! Somehow I managed to say something about G8 using my patchy vocabulary. Afterwards I wasn't going to get the bus, I was going to walk to the station, but it arrived just as I got outside and I foolishly couldn't resist. Tragic decision; a pregnant lady got into a bitch fight with an elderly man over who should offer a seat to whom. The usual stoned crowd intervened. The lights flickered, the bus lurched, there were no seats. I really should learn my lesson about The Bus Of Death.

In other news, my boss phoned the Anti Social Behaviour Hotline today when some eight year old boys waved a toy light sabre near some mildly hysterical sheep. This proved to be both unnecessary and ineffective. The boys eventually got bored and left. Neither the ASBO Police nor the Parks Constabulary made an appearance. Surprise, surprise.

One of the geese laid an egg today but it wasn't golden.
x

2006-10-13T21:30:00.000+01:00

The top ten most popular searches on myspace are:

HTML
Videos
My Chemical Romance
Downloads
Coldplay
Ringtones
Dates
Music
Photos
Friends

This basically sums up why a) it's a bit shit, and b) people who use it like to think they're incredibly alternative when they're actually tragically mainstream.

And it's owned by Rupert Murdoch. I rest my case.

Payday

2006-10-13T17:57:00.000+01:00

I now have £1975.11 in my account! I am rich! Rich! I have absolutely no idea why I was paid nearly two grand for a month's work when my annual salary is just over £16k... oh well +_+

Money! Yay!

with a second hand dress and lips of a temptress

2006-10-10T23:31:00.000+01:00

Some painting by David Hockney, blah blah blah...

Emerged from Ben's this morning broke and bleary-eyed. Spent the day doing homework and other more pointless things. I have 25 free songs on iTunes, but in truth I'm so used to illegal downloading that it really doesn't bother me. It's a little lonely here, but relaxing. Drank chunky soup for lunch. Eventually fell asleep on my bed at 2.30pm and woke up with a start almost late for class. Dragged myself to the bus and revised German verbs on the bus. Was just outside the centre when I remembered the class was cancelled this week. Fucking shattered and distressed by this point. Spent an hour in the library reading about collage and outsider art and then traipsed home with a heavy heart and an even heavier bag of hard-back art books. The bus home was some kind of ordeal. The stoned yet hyperactive person next to me spent 20 minutes graphically explaining why he believed Luigi from Supermario to be a woman (amongst other reasons "because she can do some nang acrobatics, you get me?"). At Mile End the bus stopped inexplicably for ten minutes, after which the bus driver announced people had been throwing rocks onto the bus from the bridge, and bizarrely asked "is everyone alright?". Just after Stratford the lights cut out and someone seized the opportunity of darkness and confusion to light a joint. That bus will be the death of me yet. Next time I'm getting the train, even if it costs me £4.30.

Thoroughly annoyed now because:
1) I wasted my entire evening going to Whitechapel on the bus for no reason.
2) Consequently I didn't spend it tidying up my room and doing my homework, boring tasks which I am now going to have to do tomorrow.
3) I missed the Holloways live on Zane Lowe.
4) I have to go to Bexleyheath tomorrow.
5) I have to go to work on Thursday.
6) I am bored of my job already after less than a month and I have to stick it out for another 11.

The only times I feel at ease at the moment are: when I'm drinking Coca-Cola, the rare occasions when I get a lie-in, and the even rarer ones when I manage to achieve a state of total detachment and escapism.

There's a long long list in my head of things I need/want to do once I finally get paid. The most interesting ones are: go and see Rodin, get tickets for John Hegley at UCL and book my ticket for Edinburgh. The more boring ones are: purchase socks, go to the optician and pay back the money I owe to various people. I now owe my parents £210. I hate this.

Pete Doherty has become a laughing stock on the Guardian letters page +_+
x

2006-09-28T13:12:00.000+01:00

Isn't it disorientating when you meet someone who used to be pretentious and scornful to find they are now interesting, courteous and pretty damn hot?

My weekend starts on a Thursday this week. Still shattered from yesterday's ludicrous excursion to Bexleyheath, which somehow involved me cycling there from Becton. It's a wonderful ride, especially over the docks with Canary Wharf on my right and City Airport on my left, then across the river on the Woolwich Ferry. That part of the river is grey and grimy, with run down industrial estates and '70s tower blocks on both sides, but it's strangely beautiful. Like being stuck in some dusty, sombre time warp. Sadly it took me an hour and a half. Was so horribly achy I left my bike there and took the train back. Got home at 11.20 and my bike is still there. At some point I'm going to have to go and get it. Damn.

Manchester is such a beautiful city. I may go to university there. Saturday was alive and blazing hot and inspirational.

I feel so lonesome now. Haven't really seen or spoken to anyone, partly because they're all busy doing recreational drugs at uni and partly because my phone is broken.

At least I have music, charcoal and crunchy nut cornflakes. They're ludicrously tasty, you know....
x

Take your anger off the shelf

2006-09-25T22:33:00.000+01:00

Sometimes I get the feeling everything I do is just to make me forget other things.
This house is so cold and empty.
I'm so anxious all the time.
It rained all day today. It bucketed down all over the animals. The donkey was completely drenched and miserable.
Heatherbell, Catnip, Angel and Primrose mooed plaintively under their shabby wooden shelters.
When I got home from work my limbs were stiff and my hair soaking.
I climbed into bed and ate honeydew melon.
I don't know who to turn to sometimes.
I think myself to sleep at night.
There's nothing in my life that I feel completely sure about.
I'm not even nineteen.
My dreams are so vivid they terrify me.

Burning the candle at both ends.

2006-09-21T23:46:00.000+01:00

Kirchner, Girl under a Japanese parasol 1909

Somehow I'm doing too much again. This year is going to be almost as chaotic as last year was. I am now taking GCSE German, AS level Art and A level Maths. And a full time job. And still playing the cello, and sleeping and eating. This shouldn't work, but it's going to. I am fucking determined. I've been lounging around for far too long, it feels invigorating to be doing something worthwhile at long last. This is going to kill me.

So I turned up at Waltham Forest at 7 this evening, having worked all day, feeling filthy and groggy and sleepy and not too enthusiastic, thinking evening classes = mainly people over 40 = awkwardness = probably a fairly dull, uneventful evening, but better than sitting at home using the internet for several hours. Wow. I was wrong. The class was incredible. There were between 30 and 40 people in a massive art studio, about three quarters of them between 17 and 19. There was a model, and loads of resources and some really interesting teachers; people who weren't bitter and cynical like Mr Watson. And we talked about Auerbach and Henry Moore and drew and painted until our fingers were covered in charcoal and we were running out of space and energy and time. It was brilliant. Next week the class is going to see the one exhibition I've wanted to see ALL SUMMER. Tate Modern, Kandinsky, for free, with a whole bunch of really cool people, mostly my age. I am so excited. This is too good. Bring on next Thursday.

I'm going to read books and milk cows and paint and do maths and take exams and go to Edinburgh and work on Christmas day for triple pay and earn lots of money and spend too much money and dance and drink and cover my green walls and cycle and cut my hair and drink tea and twist and shout and it's going to be heavenly. Fuck that, it already is heavenly. Even though my hands are shaking and my eyelids are oh so heavy and in eight hours I have to drag myself to work, I think I've got my youthful vitality back +_+
x

How I will blow your paradise away away away....

2006-09-19T22:09:00.000+01:00

Basquiat, Unititled 1983

Gosh I've been busy. Have been clearing out my room today; kept coming across clothes I'd never worn, letters I'd never sent, books I'd never read and heaps and heaps of old schoolwork. I've no idea what to do with it, I can't help thinking some of it might be useful/valuable some day, but in truth it's just unecessary clutter. I'm attempting to apply to university for next year as well, nice and early. According to the brand new UCAS tariff system I have 747 points which is a bit of a joke. It's a shame that a) no one uses the UCAS system, and b) the new pro-IB initiative doesn't come into effect until 2008. Damn.

Anyway I'm probably going to do some kind of politics course next year - a PPE or something similar, unless I dramatically change my mind. There are hundreds of courses roughly based around that - International Relations, Philosophy & Politics, European Politics & History etc etc etc. It's starting to bore me already, to be honest. And I haven't got round to the most exciting part of all: the personal statement! Spend 30 lines talking pretentious, ambiguous crap about yourself that 90% of universities probably won't read! Oh yes.

And then I've been trying to enrol on a course, which is proving immensely complicated. There's a reason why Floodlight is 486 pages long. My plan was to do Maths A Level and some other Art course at the same time, and maybe even GCSE German too, which I never got round to doing, but it's all proving rather ambitious and I'll probably end up spending my evenings sitting around reading the newspaper and surfing the internet and sleeping. I seriously crave some work though. Something to think about. There was certainly always something on the back of my mind during the IB, even if it was only when I was going to finish my EE and what was the best way to avoid Mr. Adcock. Seems all very far away now, those frantic days. It makes my extended summer look ever so lazy and self-indulgent.

I'm gradually getting things done, though. I've read 23 books since the exams ended. +_+
x

White shores of longing stretch away...

2006-09-16T22:30:00.000+01:00

I have had 2 hours sleep. Should not have attempted to rehearse the New World Symphony for four hours, drag myself to an exhibition, and then sit through a murder mystery with an immensely complicated plot. Could barely keep my eyes open, let alone understand the muddled melodrama. The Black Dahlia should probably be watched after plenty of caffeine and anticipation. It's sexy and racy and slightly too long. Maybe I'll watch it again when I'm in a better frame of mind. Josh Hartnett lights a few too many cigarettes though. Plus every time I look at him I think of 40 days and 40 nights. Didn't really do him any favours.

Pleased with myself for spending less than £20 this weekend though. Going to Manchester on Saturday, and starting my course on Wednesday. Seriously can't wait. If you'd asked me how I felt about optional Maths homework a year ago you would have got a slightly different response I feel.

I can't express myself at the moment. I blame the sleep deprivation. It's cruel how hours of manual farm labour has little effect on me, but dancing until 4am has broken my soul.

Might go back to bed. I'm reading Brighton Rock and it's brilliant, full of panic and madness and moral ambiguity. Oh, before I go, Writer's Block is a great song, and Banksy's latest antics are ingenius.
x

It can't come quickly enough.

2006-09-12T22:08:00.000+01:00

I seem to spend half of my time these days wishing I was like everyone else and the other half wishing they were like me.

Everything was sensational this weekend, to a point where I felt completely ill at ease with my life on Monday and sank into this horrible, desperate anxiety that I could no longer dance and sing and be mesmerised and reckless and mindless. And then a million ridiculous unjustified thoughts started getting me down and I was practically in tears.

The awards ceremony didn't make things any better. Despite seeing Timmy and Paul and Phil and Berengere I thought the whole night was horribly contrived and bizarre and elitist. It's quite sickening how educational institutions are now run like business enterprises. We can't freely reward achievement these days without a) alienating a large proportion of students, b) promoting the school as "special" and better than other schools, c) openly sucking up to the governors by giving awards to their children, d) placing emphasis on the school's sponsors, benefactors, reputation and staff rather than the students themselves, e) using a selection procedure controlled by members of senior management, with not a single student-governed award, f) advertising the school through huge placards and flags across the stage, g) presenting the headteachers and governors as members at the top of a massive heirarchy and somehow in a position of power: I don't feel priviledged to shake the hand of some random governor, or Mr Barrs. Why exactly am I shaking hands anyway? It was as if we had reached some kind of shady deal involving me producing good results for the school and him in exchange giving me an Anglo-European School biro. I don't regard producing a ridiculously extravagant and enormous school trophy (the "Bob Reed" award) to Abbie Southern as a particularly productive way to either honour Mr Reed or spend the school's money. The speeches were somewhat suspicious (in what way, for example, does the IB encourage 'integrity'?) The real limit was when someone mentioned 9/11 in their speech. I was practically expecting everyone to stand up, put their hands on their heart and recite the school's fucking mission statement...

I have achieved peace of mind now, anyway. I have moved away from the stage in my life dominated by the Anglo. There are people I spent the entire two years trying to fit in with, never quite managing, when in reality we have nothing in common and they had little or no respect for me. There are also people I truly love, whom I will miss, but it's pretty wonderful not having to see them in the context of the Anglo-European school and all its smothering glory. I also have some level of control over my life now. Speaking of which, the new job is better than I imagined. The farm is lovely. It even has a kookaburra and chipmunks. The jobs are nowhere near stenuous at the moment. It takes half as long as I anticipated to get there, the boss seems reasonable and the breaks are lengthy. Also, at long last I have something to think about and get on with, far from that hazy bubble of worrying and being alone.

It's been such an emotional end to my holiday. I can still see a whole tent of about 2,000 people going fucking wild to Common People, the last song of the last DJ set at 2am on Sunday night. I can still see smoke exploding out of the stage during Filthy/Gorgeous. I can still feel everything I've left behind. Ahead there's just a flickering horizon, and for some reason I can't wait to reach it.
x

For today I am a wild creature...

2006-09-06T20:37:00.000+01:00

And tomorrow I will be lost again.

Kandinsky, Flood Improvisation 1913

I start work on Tuesday. That means I have five more days of freedom. I will be spending four of those days on the Isle of Wight. Started packing today, spent several hours searching for and putting up tents. I eventually found one small enough to carry, discovered it had a broken pole, but oh well, I'll make do. It's what I call a sardine tent; I will have precisely the same amount of space to move around in there as a tinned sardine has in its little tin. Only slightly larger than a kennel, and only slightly wider than a coffin. It's going to be fabulous. Also discovered that once I had packed my tent, my sleeping bag and the flattest pillow I could find in my rucksack there was virtually no room for clothing and food. Ah well, it's a festival, I won't need to eat or change my clothes. All this is part of the fun, right?

Spent yesterday watching Firefly and drinking gin instead of slaving for my mother and now I'm not in the best position to borrow a whole load of money off her. If the worst really does come to the worst, I shall change the 20 euros I have left in sterling, take whatever I can from the fridge, and hope that together with the £10 I already have I'll be able to eat.

Had a rather nostalgic conversation with Katrina about university and the loss of our youth. She yearns for change; I don't. She's off somewhere new; I'm not. But somewhere there were a few things we'll miss. Stability, protection, long train journeys, worry-free sleep, nights out in London, the comfortable routine that schooldays allowed us. I've been thinking about the the times I worried I'd fail my course and I know I'm lucky, and that I must've worked harder than I noticed at the time, but it's not enough, it's never enough, not even close, and now the tunnel's closing in and the light's fading and all I have is 37, a green room, some close friends, too many books and the remnants of summer. I'm still searching.
x
Edit: apparently I have won the school History award, God knows why. See fellow award-winners on Monday....

You got me off the sofa (at long last).

2006-09-04T21:13:00.000+01:00

Wow, it's been one of those wonderful days of ups and downs.

*At 10 I was told by the hospital after waiting over an hour for an appointment that I needed an X-Ray. The waiting list for non-urgent X-Ray referrals is 15 weeks. Oh yes. It will be after Christmas before they get back to me.

*At 12 today Tom told me I have a ticket to Bestival.
Oh yes! Scissor Sisters, Jamie T, Mystery Jets, Klaxons, Guillemots, The Young Knives, and more. A whole weekend on the Isle of Wight! And it's free! All expenses paid! All I have to do is some rallying for STW.

*Spent several hours in Stratford drinking Coca-Cola, looking in Maplin Electronics Store and milling around.

*I owe the library £29.40. That's far too much.

*At 4 went to see an exhibition of anthropomorphic cats. It was too late. Exhibition was closed. Drinks in The Phoenix instead.

*Just as I got in Teardrop came on the radio and it was dark and the fairy lights were glowing and the window was open and I lay and listened in my little green room on my double bed wearing socks and ballet pumps and had one of those intense moments.

The best things come from nowhere. Suddenly everythings unfamiliar and exciting and happy. How I hope this lasts.
x

What was a peacock is now a lizard eating a bird...

I want a reason for all this night after night after night after night

2006-09-01T18:08:00.000+01:00

Oh dear oh dear oh dear.
I spent far too much money today.

Yesterday was a strange emotional surreal night, involving travelling to Broomfield far too late at night. I can't quite decide whether it was too good or just tragic. I did get a bed and a very cosy duvet though, despite feeling strangely melancholy this morning. Seeing people is always a relief. As is escaping from the current shambolic situation at home: stressful relatives and general panic-stricken mayhem in the lead-up to Saturday...

On the bus to Broomfield I read the last seven pages of Everything Is Illuminated. It's rather disjointed and confusing and complicated and completely threw me at times. It became incredibly engaging, but his literary techniques got overwhelming and annoying; capitalising large chunks of texts, for example, and drifting into long convoluted sentences which were difficult to read. Maybe Johnathan Safran Foer was trying a bit too hard. There were just a few too many twists and loose strings.

Apparently my new job are still waiting for a reference, so it seems I will be slacking for the next week or so. (Correction: doing exciting, constructive things like tidying my room and sorting out my life). I also have to go to the hospital on Monday. I'm scared.

I am also pleased: Climate Camp seems to have got plenty of media coverage. Drax generate more carbon dioxide than Sweden does. It's a fucking scandal. Though I'm not entirely convinced by the following sentence appearing in The Guardian's editorial: "like the Conservative party, Drax is not beyond redemption"...+_+

I love Chelmsford swimming pool, it's huge and spacious and wonderful. Outdoor pools are heaven and diving boards are a luxury. I spent half of my money for the next month on a pair of jeans which I didn't need and couldn't resist. I am dangerously weak-willed. Once again though, there's something pretty refreshing about spending money you earned on your own. Making your own atrocious decisions, doing things on a whim and getting away with it. Sure, I'll regret squandering that money soon, but for now I'm happy to sit in the park eating Marks and Spencers smoked salmon sandwiches and reading about Graham Coxon in the Guardian. I'm naive and foolish and decadent and not sensible in the slightest, but sometimes it's worth every minute.

In the swimming pool my eyeliner smudged and seeped right across my face and for a moment I had dark sparkling eyes the size of apricots.
x

Swimmin' in light...

2006-08-27T14:27:00.000+01:00

Here I am back in the blogging world.

Holiday has been fun, but I'm ready to come home. Since T&S left it has been rather mellow. The weather is atrocious and there's not much to do here except lie in my attic room listening to music and thinking of all the exciting things I'm going to do when I get back (eat cereal, buy clothing, watch movies, play badminton, see people, go out, start my new job, stick things on my wall, enrol on a course, or something...)

Next year is going to be good. Not because anything especially good is planned, but simply because I have decided it's going to be. I'm going to fucking make sure it is. I have learned alot of things this summer, cliched and unsophisticated as it sounds:

The less you rely on your parents the better.
The more you go out the better.
Most people in the world of work are trying to screw you over as much as they can.
There are ways to get by without much money, the best ones are: cycle instead of getting a bus, steal things from work, live off pasta and baked beans, exploit buy one get one free offers, hang out with rich people (or people with rich parents).
There are ways to get by without much sleep, the best ones are: actually there aren't. Pro Plus messes your life up. Avoid it at all costs. Phone in sick.

People of the earth, you're not cool: you eat hamburgers and go to school!

With that, goodbye. x

It's an underground illusion.....

2006-08-11T01:59:00.000+01:00

Why did there have to be some sort of terror scare three days before I'm meant to get a flight from Gatwick? So so worried about Monday, I'm already cutting things fine leaving an hour to get from the airport to Marseille train station, but if the flight is delayed I'll be stranded in Marseille overnight with nowhere to sleep. This is terrifying. Travelling on my own in a foreign country is scary enough. I've done it before, but not to Marseille. Not at night.

Beth just sent me the following text message: 'Just to check: we're going swimming at the crack of dawn tomorrow. We must be mad! See you at 8 am."

We actually are mad. This swimming and spending every moment together is completely off the rail (also bloody marvellous). Beth's mother gave me tomatoes, an aubergine, a courgette, some brocolli, a squash and an onion today, all homegrown on the allotment. I feel lucky.

Am meant to be doing about twelve different things this weekend. And then going on holiday. Watch me try.
x

Mindless now.

2006-08-10T00:07:00.000+01:00

When my problems are few and far between so are my blog entries.

Have practically moved in with Beth. We've been demonstrating, eating cake and plum crumble and home grown tomatoes, swimming, playing table tennis in her basement, playing badminton, watching trashy TV, cycling and sitting in her conservatory basking in the sunshine. It's fucking heaven. Work has been so damn easy as well. The boss is away, and the replacement pharmacist is his little brother, just as qualified but a whole lot less uptight. He hasn't complained once about anything anyone has or hasn't done. He even thanks people and doesn't time people's lunch breaks to the second. I'm worried I'll miss being indoors now. My new job could get tiring and overwhelming. If they offered me £8.75 I think I'd stay where I was.

Still addicted to Big Brother, still haven't washed my clothes, still can't wait for Monday. Everything's easy now.

I missed my Natalie pictures.

'She's eating roses on toast with tulip butter,
Praying for her mirror to stay young;
On its no longer gilted surface
This message she has scrawled:

'O somewhere between Heaven and Woolworth's
I live I love I scold,
I keep kingfishers in their cages
And goldfish in their bowls.' '

- Brian Patten
x

But what price now for a shallow piece of dignity?

2006-08-06T21:51:00.000+01:00

http://www.parliament-square.org.uk/

Lost things lie under closing water...

2006-07-31T23:32:00.000+01:00

Very very tired and achy. Went out today: Holloways, Italian restaurant, long walk. I've been out every day since last Tuesday. Out of the money I have earned this year I haven't saved a penny, but my gap year has yet to begin, and this summer has been overwhelmingly good. Just put all my washing on the line in the gloomy breeze and about twenty seconds later it started to rain. My legs hurt from cycling and walking and working. I miss school. I can't wait for my new job. I'm so glad the heatwave has ended. I love Kat & Lou.

Haven't been eating or sleeping enough, until pasta and salad today at a lovely place in Soho, and Louise never finishes her meal, so there's more for me. Haven't felt that full in days. I've been eating the minimum in an attempt to save cash. It hasn't worked. I've crammed my days with work and fun: charity shopping for hours, watching the lights at Canary Wharf, eating Haribo in Burnham, and then stayed in this strange, surreal, magnificent boarding school near Reading, playing the recorder in the day. Everyone in the orchestra is now younger than me, and I forgot how irritating those skinny, upper-middle-class, whiny, allergic-to-everything, mummy-hasn't-ironed-my-dress little girls are. When in doubt stick with people from Swansea. Concert was strangely mesmerising, coffee in Starbucks, hasty goodbyes.

Dangerous habits I need to get out of: waking up late, skipping meals, living off Pro Plus, forgetting to wash my clothes, filling in forms wrong, stealing stamps and Strepsils from work.

Actually, forget that last one. Nine days left. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

PS Can you get your money back?

Going to Berkshire via Burnham-On-Crouch

2006-07-27T17:31:00.000+01:00

It's a bit like going to hell via death, isn't it?

Then I'll wake all fresh and new tomorrow...

2006-07-22T16:05:00.000+01:00

I have a fucking job! A better one! Eight pounds fucking seventy-five! I am also completely high on caffeine tablets after having had less than five hours sleep for the last five days. I felt completely physically and emotionally drained this morning, particularly given the last 24 hours, which have been a completely surreal rollercoaster ride, so in my break I went to the greasy spoon cafe on Wanstead High Street, ate a jacket potato with cheese, drank two cans of coke and took a whole load of Pro Plus. I am feeling dangerously alert and energetic. When the caffeine wears off I will probably fall asleep on my double bed for the first time in four days and sleep until Monday morning. It will be weird not being woken up by sheep, my mother or someone's phone. Tomorrow I'm not going to scamper around a pharmacy, I'm not going to wake up hours before I should. But there will be no singing the Kooks while cycling across sunny valleys and eating Full English Breakfasts in teashops and making friends with Northerners. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

The Peak District was fucking marvellous. I miss Sheffield accents and rural charm. Three days holiday feels like paradise when you hate your job and spend every moment you're there wishing you weren't. Getting back to London was thoroughly depressing, I think I was a bit overwhelmed by the chaos and smoke and humidity, although cliched as it sounds walking across the Thames at 2am watching the lights and the water made me realise why I love it. Living in London is like living in a million places at once. There's so much choice, so much glorious mayhem and so much that I still haven't discovered. Last night came close to wonderful, despite missing buses, not getting into the club, and getting emotional and disillusioned and exhausted at various times throughout the night. The horrible oppressive London heatwave finally broke at 4am under a pale orange sky.

Still getting over the fact that I have a new job, and I'll be doing something I actually love rather than settling for the first tedious shop vacancy I came across. I think I was more excited about getting this than about my exam results. (Although the caffeine tablets may have contributed to this...hmmmm.)

Everyone's gone away, it's just me here. Even the cat has been shipped off on another adventure overseas. It's weirdly quiet and empty, and this isn't a house for one. It barely feels like a house for four. I love noise and bustle and coming and going. For once, though, I have absolutely nothing to worry about. I have my results. I have a job. I've booked my holiday. I have money in the bank. I have wonderful friends. What else is there?

My mother left the following note for me before she left:

Things to Remember

Please LOCK the back door.
Shut and LOCK toilet window.
Please water plants once a week.
I have cleaned the freezer. Please leave the door open, unless you switch it on and use it.
Please pick and eat the home grown tomatoes.
Please put out recycling by the gate (on street) on Sunday evening or early Monday.
Haven't had time to cancel milk - he came early and delivered 4 pints. Put a note out on Sunday evening. Put note in bottle.
Couldn't get money out, police incident in Forest Gate. Cash points cut off. Left you my change.
Fruits and chocs for you and Jack! (In my room.)
Take care that windows are shut in thunderstorms.

See you soon. Love Mum and Dad.

My mother is bonkers!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shut up and drink your gin!

2006-07-15T23:17:00.000+01:00

I'd forgotten what a good musical Oliver was. Also I had forgotten almost the entire plot of Romeo & Juliet. Two school plays, two nights, I'm shattered but impressed. There hasn't been a time all week when I haven't felt like falling into an endless slumber.

So... a celebrity came into the shop! The highlight of my working week! Jessie Wallace, otherwise known as Kat from Eastenders... with her baby Tallulah Lilac. Incredible. Naturally my boss had no idea, he spends his time counting his money, not watching Eastenders. I'm bored of my job now. I'm beyond the stage of hating it, it hasn't been too bad, just exhausting. I'm ready to move on, and to break through the minimum wage so that I can save some money. I love the uncertainty of next year. I love people's reactions when they hear I'm not going to uni, and how they pretend they think having a gap year sounds like fun whilst failing to grasp the entire concept. I love having money.

My dad was completely engrossed in "Fox In Socks" this evening, and I'd forgotten how beautiful Dr. Seuss books were, they are utterly mesmerising. "Not in a box. Not with a fox. /Not in a tree. You let me be! / I do not like green eggs and ham! / I do not like them, Sam-I-am!" Now that's perfection. No one else can write poetry like that. Not to mention the amazing journey to Solla Sollew, "on the banks of the beautiful river wahoo, where they never have troubles, at least very few". Dr. Seuss just captures the harshness of reality so comically and so tenderly. You wouldn't expect so much powerful insight into human emotions from a children's book. He's a lyrical genius.

Following a strange debate I had, Tammy Wynette is perhaps not as much of an anti-feminist as people claim. Of course she strives for a conventional, male-dominated (albeit happy) family, and the lyric 'stand by your man' appears to represent the opposite of female liberation. However her songs are about striving for a better life, and 'stand by your man' is more about being faithful than being helpless; 'after all, he's just a man' implies that having a faithful wife is not an entitlement but a priviledge. When you listen to 'woman to woman' it becomes obvious that the emphasis is on positivity and solidarity rather than imprisonment. Dismissing her for an anti-feminist is completely missing the point, anyway: Wynette was renowned for her passionate country ballads and not for her unradical but thoroughly unoffensive choice of lyrics. Modern pop innuendo has done more to hinder the feminist movement: portraying women as sexual objects is much more damaging than emphasising their lack of independence.

*End of country music rant*

Everyone should follow this link and stop wikihoooligans from deleting a valuable article about hacking. Keep keep keep.

I'd love to stay here and be normal... but it's just so overated.
x

Lost in coffee rings and fingerprints.

2006-07-11T23:48:00.000+01:00

I'm all mixed-up tonight. Exhausted, restless, headachy. A little too thoughtful, lost in the clouds. Went to Starbucks with Sarah, and I've eaten enough calories for a week.

I keep wondering when I'll change and get a better job and move on and study and get somewhere, but there's nothing I want to do at the moment, I've reached a standstill, or a plateau, or something. My parents hate me earning my own money. They say they don't, but they can no longer control me financially, and that loses me any obligation to do what they say. There's no way of penalising me, because I don't want anything from them. At the same time, this infuriates them so much that they are keeping their distance, and refusing to support me next year unless I go to uni, even if I went back to college. I don't want to go to uni. This is exactly my problem. There's no one to tell me what to do now. There are no guidelines. There are no limits. I don't have a life-plan.

My floor is coated in dirty washing and last year's schoolwork. It depresses me so much I spend all my time lying on my bed resting my elbows on the windowsill, listening to music, dreaming. I have escaped tidying up for a month.

And there was Gaby's, yesterday, where the company was worth it, but the music was atrocious, and suddenly I've realised exactly why clubbing's overated. It's loud and trashy and antisocial, and, after a while, pretty fucking dull. Oh well. Louise, Liam and I know how to have fun. And when to leave...

I owe the library £20 again, all of a sudden. In the last few years I must have paid them a triple figure sum. The library system is completely twisted, and centred around making money, rather than promoting reading. There's something illogical and unnecessary about paying library fines in the first place, without the librarians' scary, superfluous ruthlessness. My books were a week late. And seeing as they don't even operate their alarm system these days, because people steal books too often for them to handle, I may just fight the system and borrow my books without declaring them. That's if I manage to find books in that place, amongst the DVDs, Playstation games and coffee machines.

And while I'm wasting space complaining, the monster (my brother) is eating me out of house and home. He ate twelve packets of crisps, all the apple juice and a whole packet of cereal in two days. He doesn't even like Special K, in fact he recently complained to my mother that it 'lacked calories'. I don't eat it for the calories, I eat it because it tastes good. And it gives me something to do besides complaining.

I stole my dad's Allen Ginsberg book yesterday. It's unusual and obscene and I haven't decided if I like it yet.
x

Like plates from shaking hands...

2006-07-08T23:16:00.000+01:00

Life is bittersweet and full of surprises.

No work tomorrow. I'm going to sleep in for hours, and then go and watch the football. Romeo & Juliet on Friday, crazy dancing on Monday. Party on the 17th. Peak District on the 19th. I have plans. I passed the IB with 37 points. I've realised life is just beginning, and there's no room for angst or regret. This is going to be the summer of my life.

Maybe I should stop thinking things through and start taking risks.

I got paid today and it's weirdly quiet in this house. It's just me, and the cat and a whole load of food after I dragged my mother through Tesco's this afternoon. Most of what she wanted to buy was gourmet cat food. After five years of Whiskers the cat has been promoted to Sheba ('tender terrine') and Gourmet Pearl. My mother cares more about the cat than me. She hasn't bought me any food in a month.

In other domestic news, my dad got ambushed by some Muslim intellectuals today and came back with a whole load of free pamphlets and books, including: 'a Brief Illustrated Guide to Understanding Islam', 'The Empire and the Crescent', 'Meet Your Muslim Neighbours', 'He Who Purifies Himself Succeeds', 'Muslims of Britain', 'Discover Islam', 'Who Is Allah?', 'Understanding Islam', a copy of the Qur'an and a piece of paper with John Grahl written in Arabic. Maybe after 40 years of being a disillusioned communist my father has discovered God.
x

And then I'll dream of moons and horror shows...

2006-07-05T17:32:00.000+01:00

Why did the torrential rain have to start just as I was leaving work? I am soaked to the skin.

I declare myself the second person to write about camping. It was incredible. A whole field to ourselves, food, drink and continuous merriment for three days. Although I am covered in cuts and bruises from tripping over, playing cricket and walking through forests it was worth it, I am no longer as depressed as before, and it was a marvellous break from working (despite Monday's crazy Debden-to-Wanstead commute.)

****************

A mental woman came into the shop four times today to ask if we sold Ribena. (Ribena! In a pharmacy!) I looked on her prescription and discovered she was 96. She didn't just look bonkers and forgetful either, she looked lost and completely panic-stricken. It scares me how lonely and confusing old age can be. Later on my boss got ridiculously pissed off just because I charged someone the wrong amount on their credit card. He made me do three hours of dusting because apparently my brain "clearly isn't ready for work like this". It was not a good day. I had to leave everyone this morning at 6.30am to get back home, having had about four hours' sleep. I also feel a bit ill and sleep-deprived, unsurprising as the whole trip was pretty reckless...

In a good way though. x

We're going to hell anyway, let's travel first class...

2006-06-30T23:49:00.000+01:00

All of a sudden I feel lost and confused. I suddenly realised at the barbecue that it's not just my friends that I'll miss. I'll keep in touch with them. But the others, the people I insulted Ebbs to, the people who I shared a text book with, the people I waited for trains with and bumped into at the village. Those I went to lessons with, those I knew but didn't talk to, those I promised I'd get to know later, those I dismissed without reason, those I liked but who didn't like me. Soon they'll all be a faceless nameless mass. I don't know where they live and I'll probably never see them again. It's all a pointless cliche, but we'll drift apart in a few months. And worst of all, everyone else will have new friends and new lives, but I'll still be here, dwelling on the past.

My job is really getting me down. Or more precisely my boss, who succeeds in making me feel completely frustrated, useless and unappreciated in every single thing I do. He tells me that at Wanstead Pharmacy you can't just leave dead on six, you have to wait until the flow of customers is dealt with, but I see the girl who has been working there two years nonchalantly walking out five minutes early. He humiliates me in front of the customers. He takes the maximum from me and gives me the minimum. He intimidates me. He tells me how some other employee is better than me in so many ways: a man who has been working there for fifteen years and who is twice my age. He never shuts up. He is schizophrenic. He treats his demanding, demented, elderly customers substantially better than he treats his employees. He is a money grabbing hypocrite. He pays me in the most begrudging way possible. He casually changes my hours. He doesn't know my name. He affects me far more than I would like.

I don't know what's happened to all the money I have earnt, but given the rate at which it has disappeared the job is so not worth it. I haven't been going out more, or enjoying myself more because my feet ache continually, my hours are unsociable (and painful), and I am completely exhausted. For one week this job was tolerable, even enjoyable. Give it three, and I feel like dying. I feel like I have aged. I feel desperately lonely, and my life is revolving around work. It's truned into a depressing cycle of working, eating and sleeping. The cycle there nearly kills me. It's so hard not to let him get to me. I feel weak and vulnerable and stupid. And the fact that my first proper job can depress me to such extremes makes me feel even more stupid.

Maybe this is just a low point, and nothing much to do with my job. I probably feel this bad every few weeks anyway. It's just leaving today without saying goodbye to so many people, slaving away stupidly in the heat and coming home so tired I'm ready for bed doesn't give me the best feeling in the world.

Wow, in nearly ten hours I'll be back at the hellhole.
*drowns in anguish*
x
P.S. What a horribly incoherent stream of consciousness. Now this is what blogging's about.

The NHS need a new website.

2006-06-30T11:18:00.000+01:00

I have been trying for over a week to book myself an appointment since my doctor referred me, but all the links on the Choose & Book webpage are fucking broken. Then I phoned them up, and they couldn't book me one because "we've been blocked out of your account for an hour because you tried to do it online". What a fucking shambles. I could be dying by now.

In other news, I might quit my job. I have come to the realisation that my boss is a total crook. I don't get minimum wage, I don't have a contract, he always lets me go late and he's changed my hours so I now work mornings without a break. I hate mornings, and it's illegal to give someone a seven hour shift without a break. Bastard.

School prom was wonderful.
And somehow I persuaded my mother to get me a lift to the barbecue. All is good.
x

Is she more beautiful than me?

2006-06-16T02:01:00.000+01:00

I've been told (ordered) to hurry up and update my blog, and to document the ups and downs of life in the pharmaceutical business. My arduous but bearable job is mainly about sorting out painkillers, dealing with demanding elderly people and putting bottles of shampoo on shelves, so I won't bore you with all that. The most important thing is I have money, although unfortunately no one else does, so I don't have many opportunities to do reckless things with it. I have a (rather silly) prom dress. And plenty of cash. For a change. The downside is I'm exhausted from working and cycling, and don't really have alot of time on my hands. Or any energy.

Haven't really updated in a while. Mainly because I was sick of entries that just moaned on about all the sleeping and slacking I had been doing. And oh-no-what-if-I-fail-my-exams entries. And general tedious routine bullshit.

To be honest, though, life couldn't get much better at the moment. Work is a bit draining, but I feel completely liberated not having to rely on my parents, being able to do what I want without my day-to-day life being dependent on what kind of mood my mother is in and how financially generous she's feeling. It's sweet and sunny, and I went shopping on Sunday. I've fallen in love with my room, and finally got used to where all the furniture is so I don't have bruises all over my legs from tripping over things any more. My bed is wonderful, indulgent bliss. And my hours suit me just fine, so I can lie in all morning, and still catch the sunshine in the evening. I'm just waiting around for exam results, when everything will come crashing down all around me. Somewhere, though, there's a glimmer of hope that it might just about stay in place. Unstable, but holding together somehow.

My sister's letter was in the Guardian today. And it was pretty good.

This weekend is my grandparents' diamond wedding anniversary. The concept of staying together with someone for 60 years terrifies me. I don't know how they managed it. The weekend could be anything from pretty good fun actually to a total nightmare. Overall, though, there will simply be too many blood relatives in the same room. It's an accident waiting to happen.

10,000 hits!
I love Chelmsford swimming pool.
x

On a night that rises and clears / In a sky that's clouded by fears

2006-05-29T18:20:00.000+01:00

[Kirchner, 'Marcella' 1910]

The days are slipping by unnoticed now, and I'm worried I'll wake up from a troubled sleep sometime and realise just what I've wasted and the mediocre, regrettable way I've been spending my long summer weeks. Sleeping, watching films, eating and drinking too much. Wasting away. Subconsciously caging myself up. Perhaps getting a double bed was a bad idea. Perhaps moving the TV from the cellar into my room while my parents were on holiday was stupid: it's always too tempting and far too distracting.

Yesterday's party was actually pretty magnificent. Despite being in Upminster and costing me money I don't have. I can't complain (at all) because the fruit punch was free and the company was excellent. Also I'm not too shattered today somehow. I drowsily dragged myself off Michael's sofa at 6 having had about 2 hours' sleep, walked past a million pebbledashed houses to the station and somehow stumbled onto the right train. Got back at 7, fell into bed and slept until 3 when I listened to the rolls of thunder outside all afternoon and watched The Sound of Music. In bed. Now I'm sleepy and bleary and hungry and still wearing yesterday's eyeliner. Maybe I'll go back to bed. It's nearly time for Hollyoaks.

When did I become like this?
x

She doesn't want to stay in bed...

2006-05-23T22:31:00.000+01:00

'cos it's changed from something comfortable, to something else instead.

[Edward Hopper, 'Hotel Room' 1931]

Sometimes it's wonderful to do nothing. Well not quite nothing. I've joined the swimming pool, so I swim everyday. And yesterday I got on the Hammersmith & City line for what seemed like years to go and see The Rifles with Katrina and Louise, which was pretty damn good. The support bands were awesome: The On-Offs and Good Shoes (I think), and Bush Hall is a pretty good venue, kinda eerie in the blue light and cigarette smoke but with amazing chandaliers and fancy ceilings. Walked home in the rain, drinking Pepsi, completely exhausted.

Apart from that I've been mainly sleeping and gradually moving things into my new room. The walls are bare now, it's really horrible as part of the reason I put so many pictures up was to hide the nasty beige wallpaper and the jagged cracks in the walls. This house genuinely is falling down. Subsidence, or whatever the insurance company called it. But that was three years ago and nothing has been done and every day the walls are crumbling, inch by inch.

The Kooks have done a cover of Crazy by Gnarls Barkley. Everyone should download this track. It's fucking sensational.

I really need to get a job. Most importantly to pay for food and going out and travelling, but also to buy all the good albums out at the moment (The Raconteurs, DPT, The Feeling...), to save money for next year and to get out of the house every day. I don't want to become a slacker, but tragically it's the easiest thing in the world.

I wish it would stop raining.
x

Semi-naked in somebody else's room....

2006-05-19T14:52:00.000+01:00

I'm moving rooms. I feel strangely emotional about it. I've spent the last five years making that room my own. I'm taking all the pictures down and cleaning everything out. It represents a new stage in my life. A frightening stage.

My brother's digital camera is weird. It is very light sensitive and has no flash, so you can only take pictures in daylight. You end up with sheets of luminous white light and blurry shadows and silhouettes. Sometimes this is very beautiful.

My old room:

My new room:
The cat never seems to leave the new room, so for the time being I have a roomie.

I have found a purple blazer to wear to this party tonight. I haven't worn a purple blazer in two years. It gives me the shivers.

Exams are over, school is over, childhood is over. My life in the *real world* has begun. I'm not impressed. Jobhunting is tedious. The hours stretch into meaningless days. It has rained all week.

Got up at the crack of dawn (7am) to go swimming. I'm a member now, thanks to my dad's credit card. Walked home from East Ham in the rain without a coat, and with red stinging eyes and wet hair. I'm still a child.
x

There's no method in my madness.

2006-05-07T03:29:00.000+01:00

An amazon review of 'The Grass is Singing':
"I was in prison for 15 years and this was the only book I had!"

Jesus, I feel sorry for you. It's a completely draining, harrowing book to read, about an annoying, insecure woman, who engenders no sympathy at all. Well written, morally convincing, but utterly dismal. I'd feel happier uprooting nettles with my gloveless fingers than reading this again.

Robin Wales is back. The Tories are back. Cameron's going to win the next election. It rained cats and dogs all afternoon after two days of summer. There's nothing to eat, and I'm going to fail the IB. Is there any hope in this world?

"Depression is the inability to construct a future"
- Rollo May
x

Preheat your ovens to death!

2006-04-26T03:12:00.000+01:00

- I'm getting used to being lonely and depressed and spending my time either revising or thinking I should be revising.
- I hate having six subjects to think about. I always manage to get to the end of the day not having done something really important.
- Gaby came round and drank tea with me today. I love her because she came to see me when I was feeling depressed and cheered me up. I hate her because she has a ticket to see the Kooks and a ticket for Reading and I don't.
- I love The Strokes. I've told you before and I will tell you again.
- Went to see American Dreamz. It's a very poor movie. Don't see it. It tried to be satirical and failed. However I love popcorn and I love Berengere. So I win.
- I feel slightly delirious. I have eaten alot of Toblerone and it is 3.34am.
- I'm not really sure what all these bullet points were in aid of.
- I am ashamed of myself for having watched all six episodes of Burnt Face Man this afternoon. It really is dreadful stuff. (With the exception of "calm down baby, have a piece of cheese.")
- 6 days until it all starts, 19 days until it all ends.
- Sorry for Tim-like length. He can pull it off, I can't.
x

Here's what's stopping me doing enough revision.

2006-04-18T02:41:00.000+01:00

Boredom.
Youtube/online movies.
Laziness/procrastination.
Marsbars. (And ice-cream Marsbars.)
Tea.
Loneliness.
IMDB.
Wikipedia.
Hatred of all/most of my subjects.
The state of my room.
The Guardian.
Constant hunger.
Blogging.
Disillusionment/lack of hope.
Google Images.
Impulsiveness.
False self-reassurance.
Salt and shake crisps.
A desire for excessive sleep.
An inability to plan and prioritise.

I think I'm getting the hang of it all now though. It's a shame I have but twelve days.

This isn't the straight and narrow path!

2006-04-17T23:28:00.000+01:00

On Thursday 4th May I get to vote. This is incredibly daunting. I do not feel any of the local mayor candidates are capable of representing me, least of all Robin Wales, a slimy Blairite miscreant who has even been involved in establishing an illegal police force called the 'community constabulary'. Having cost £1.4 million, the constabulary is now facing "allegations of unlawful stop and search, institutional racism and carrying of offensive weapons." Nice. Click here for the gory details (and thanks to Jack for the tip-off.) My alternatives:
Tory - no chance.
Libdem - possible.
Respect - dubious, but the only candidate with a chance of winning (besides Wales).
Christian People's Alliance - HAHAHA no way.

And in other local news, there's been a scandal over illegal ice cream trading on Green Street! Oh no! Ah, the wonders of the Newham Council webpage.

A very uneventful day. Ate too much chocolate and didn't revise enough. Consequently I feel both nervous and decadent.
x

It's cold under the blanket.

2006-04-15T17:22:00.000+01:00

Today I turned eighteen. It has been possibly the most boring, uneventful birthday ever, but I guess every year more of the novelty of birthdays wears off a bit more. I got up, ate cornflakes and revised proof by induction. Two cards, some chocolates, nothing else. I'm not really bothered any more, to be honest. I feel like I've already celebrated. And two weeks before exams is not a brilliant time to go wild. I feel sleepy and peaceful, anyway. I have wonderful CDs to listen to, and plenty of tea to drink. No one else is home: my parents are on holiday, my brother's gone to the pub. The postman brought a parcel, but I slept through the doorbell and didn't wake up until one. Tony Benn was on Any Questions, which was a neat little birthday surprise. Perhaps I'll have an afternoon nap. I'm still in my pyjamas at half past five.

We Are Scientists was a truly great. Fresh and energetic and funny. Lots of moving and trampling though. Ironically the crowd were at their wildest and most violent when the band played 'Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt'. The last song they played, just before the desperate stampede to get out was 'The Great Escape'.

I was thinking about Paul Wells' arguments about New Labour today. Paul Wells is an incredibly frustrating person to have an argument with: he is not only notoriously right wing, but also completely reactionary and doesn't appear to support taxes, the Welfare State or civil liberties. In fact he behaves like a member of the 19th century aristocracy. He completely disregards Blair's policies on education, privatisation and private financing and dismisses any suggestion of Blair as a neo-conservative or Thatcherite. More controversially he is under the impression that Hitler was left wing, leading me to the conclusion that he is either a far right propagandist or completely ignorant. Hitler attempted, and almost succeeded in murdering the German left and trade union movement. His policies were not grounded in some kind of left wing economic ideology, but rather in racial superiority, capitalism and fascism. How can Paul Wells label Hitler a socialist when socialism involves the people controlling the means of production? In Nazi Germany the means of production was controlled by private capitalists.

I love Paul. I just hate his politics. Sometimes I get the feeling lots of people think that about me.

Show Your Bones is a wonderful wonderful album and I will listen to it until the cows come home.
x

Mis-shapes, mistakes, misfits.

2006-04-09T22:50:00.000+01:00

Here concludes a chapter of my life. A time of Natalie Portman, avoiding things and being friends with Michael Jones. I have decided none of these pursuits are remotely fulfilling, satisfying or rewarding. Harsh but true. Natalie Portman is a distant, glamourised Hollywood star. Michael Jones frustrates and depresses me. As for avoiding things, it limits progress, induces unecessary anxiety and depression and ruins your life.

My brother just forced me to do two hours of revision. I'm not sure if I'm annoyed or vaguely grateful, but it almost certainly needed to be done.

And that was my 150th post.
x

Coffee black and egg white.

2006-04-08T23:52:00.000+01:00

Even though I spent hours cleaning, filled the dishwasher four times, hoovered everything, went to the bottle bank, removed anything suspicious and put everything back in the right place, she knew the minute she got in, and gave me the most evil, depraved look and fired a series of pointless questions at me: why were there less things on the mantelpiece, why hadn't the cat been fed, why was there lemonade in the fridge; then pointed out some imaginary stains on the carpet, which I'm pretty sure were genuinely nothing to do with the party, then threatened to penalise me, and stormed off to her room.

It was worth every minute though. Every fucking minute. Completely the best party ever, and the best birthday I could hope for. For so many reasons. People who I was sure wouldn't come turning up, bringing presents and being wild, about 40 people all singing happy birthday, Chris making my rickety old piano sound beautiful somehow, Berengere actually making me a beautiful cake, Phil telling me I looked like 'Karen O in tin foil', Becky making me a sparkly mirrorwith a cello on it, Alvin of all people turning up (!), Tim and Jackson dancing wildly to Franz and falling around for hours, Paul Wells asleep on a chair, Ben telling me his life story, Beth and her brother, and countless others, Sarah grinning crazily while drinking ginger beer and talking to Helen Mackenzie, Liam giving me hysterics at 4am.

And lots of other things too. Thanks.

On Friday I suffered from severe withdrawal symptons and lack of sleep, and waves of anguish about my lack of revision, and lack of food, and loneliness and depression, but today I feel fine. Almost optimistic, actually. Had a very charming meal at Berengere's, she really is a wonderful cook. The chocolate-raspberry thing was divine, and it made a change from tea, breakfast cereal, and fairy cakes (though the fairy cakes were fucking amazing fairy cakes), which is basically what I've been living off for the past week.

I'm going to miss human company for the next few weeks.
It's lucky that it's nearly Easter and I can drown my sorrows in chocolate, hot cross buns and boiled eggs.
The house was so much more fucking peaceful without my parents.
x
PS Meant to post this link a while ago, thanks to Jack for sending it to me: "Some people claimed the IB was an international conspiracy"(!)

It starts so fast and it ends so slow.

2006-04-05T14:37:00.000+01:00

Pete and Carl busking. Theo showed me this video centuries ago. Look out for Pete shouting 'cagoules!' at some random tourists.
x

Living in the ruins of a castle built on sand...

2006-04-04T16:33:00.000+01:00

Seem to have lost my touch with this blogging thing. Over the past few days, although I've thought of things to say I haven't found a way to say them without sounding horribly offensive or annoyingly happy. Not that there's been a lot of happiness to think of. Actually that's a lie, Tim's party was strangely wonderful, although I seem to have upset both Paul Wells (by drinking his Martini) and Joao (by saying something regrettably stupid). I really do suck. Sorry, not that either of them read this.

Anyway. It's all study leave now, but there hasn't been a huge amount of studying to speak of. Have watched four movies: three at Tim's, two featuring Jake Gyllehaal. The Good Girl was thoroughly depressing from start to finish. I can't think of a single happy moment. Jennifer Aniston plays this depressed, unfulfilled, unattractive woman who hates her husband, her job and her life. She meets a young, beautiful, college dropout (JG of course) and gets pregnant, but rather than running away with him once he's stolen $15,000 she chooses instead to return to her boring, dreary life with her dimwitted, unattractive husband and be boring and dreary and fucking despondent for the rest of her life. Disappointing. I'm not saying I crave happy endings (although I was expecting a "feel good movie"), but the whole film left loose ends and didn't really seem to have a plot. It was very beautiful though. Jake Gyllenhaal, the very reason I bothered to watch it, was brilliant. Zooey Deschanel (what's with her name?) totally made the whole film: 'Ghouls and goblins, witches and warlocks, wandering these aisles day after day, I put a Halloween curse on your hellish heads'. She's hot too. Also, unsurprisingly, the middle aged, irritating, gabbly woman who worked on the make up counter turned out to be called Gwen. Flattering.

I'm not going to bore you any more with movie reviews because I've done enough of that lately. (Although Charlie & The Chocolate Factory seems to have been turned into some kind of psycho thriller.)

So here's what I did today: tidied up, failed a physics paper, ate lasagne, copied my Franz albums onto my computer, phoned people, worried.

The parents have left. All is peaceful. Yeah.
x
P.S. 'Holden was a thief and a disturbed young man and what happened was a sad thing. Perhaps we can learn a lesson from this tragedy like don't steal and don't be disturbed.'

With tangerine trees and marmalade skies...

2006-03-28T21:44:00.000+01:00

WHAT a strange, incoherent mess of a film V for Vendetta was. It really was a genuinely confusing tangle of conspiracy theories, fireworks and mayhem, with a spectacular but completely nonsensical ending. This hugely complex plot, with the potential to be amazingly controversial and really exciting, was built up, centred around governmental corruption and repression, then at the climax of the film they simply stuck in an excessively long matrix-style fight, with graphic slow-motion blood spurting everywhere like something out of Kill Bill, and ended the film with a huge firework display, leaving everything unresolved. Large chunks of the plot seemed completely ludicrous, for example: how the fuck was V actually created? That part so did not make sense. Also, do we really use the word 'bollocks' that much? In what way did V represent an 'idea'? Why did the bombs on the tube say "British Fertiliser" on them and was this significant to the plot? How did Stephen Fry come back to life? How was V not dead after a five minute shooting scene? And why the hell was Natalie Portman even vaguely tempted to kiss V's mask? LAMEST kissing scene EVER.

The film seemed to be attempting to tackle some challenging political issues, but it was all ridiculously cliched and uninventive: the government's hatred of Muslims and homosexuals for example, and completely undeveloped. It was trying to deal with issues like terrorism without seeming politically biased or at all radical. Most terrorists have a political viewpoint, whereas V just seemed to want to overthrow the government and churned out all this ambiguous crap about there being no such thing as coincidence and there never being certainty, only opportunity. We find out Evey's parents were political activists, but never discover what they were fighting for. We hear about the 'face of London' having been involved in a string of wars, but not how this is relevant to what V was fighting for. And the scenes about the politician/detective guy who didn't seem to be on anyone's side just seemed too much like an episode of 'Midsummer Murders' to be even remotely interesting. The whole thing was warped and stupidly complicated. It could be that the fact that it was based on a comic book made it difficult to dramatise, but look at 'Ghost World', classic movie.

It was pretty damn entertaining though, and quirky and unpredictable and gripping at times, and of course NP was stunning. And I have to admit there were some very funny parts. For example some chav using his V mask to rob a shop. And finding out that the corrupt fascist government were originally Tories...

Got home after that to find Queen Mary only want 30 points and are 4th in the country for French. Maybe I will go to uni next year. It frustrates me how much everything's going to cost. In introducing those extra tuition fees the government have unleashed a huge privatisation movement, in a few years time the better universities will realise they can get away with charging more, and fees will start to vary, and the whole fee-paying scheme will spiral out of control. I hate the way the university system has been corrupted because it is the stage at which private school students suddenly feel the need to integrate themselves into society. I hate the way offers are made in a highly biased way based on predicted grades, at the total disposition of the teachers, who are under no obligation to be fair and accurate. It doesn't surprise me that so many people from the Anglo want to go to places like Bath and Warwick, these expensive, priveledged havens that their parents will happily pay for. Uni doesn't seem like such a big deal now I know I can easily get into a course that's reasonably interesting and literally closer to home than the Anglo is. It makes everything so much easier not having to think about student loans, accomodation, grades and travel arrangements.

I just made the perfect cup of tea, golden brown and hot and strong and sweet. While the kettle was boiling I danced wildly to Hard-Fi and ate a banana.

Goodnight.
x

Maybe tomorrow

2006-03-27T23:56:00.000+01:00

Genuinely lovely weekend. And it all started so horribly. On Friday night when I got home I was shattered, nervous, exhausted and completely disillusioned. The house was in darkness. I got into bed and cried. Tea and pizza helped of course, and Snow Patrol, and sleep.

I love Saturday mornings now. I can't help it. I don't even miss my lie-in, I literally get straight up and out of bed and can hardly wait to get to rehearsals. I remember dreading those long hours of tortured orchestral discipline, but now it's so much better. I still hate Ms Warren, and her dress sense, and her constant patronising, but I love the cello. Perhaps I shall take grade eight at some point. Although maybe not next year, I'll be too busy working in Woolworths, chainsmoking, and fighting with my parents, the traditional gap year project for those with no academic aspirations whatsoever.

Anyway, did a concert on Saturday night, it went amazingly well. Chris somehow managed to do his Maths homework while conducting the youth choir and setting up the church. How does he do it? He's like a superhero, juggling a million different commitments at the same time, and still managing to be the most charismatic person I have ever met. People like that are incredible. Becky is the same: she works so hard, and goes out all the time, and still manages to be happy and confident and beautiful the whole time. Seriously, next to her I feel stupid and inadequate.

It's weird how people I have seen or heard from in years keep popping up on the scene. On Saturday Wendy randomly turned up to see Poppy perform, and gave me a lift home afterwards. Then on Sunday evening, when I went round to Beth's to drink Sangria and watch Edward Scissorhands (AWESOME movie) Matt was there, someone I went to America with three years ago and haven't seen since, and also who incidentally was taught by my mother years ago. He goes out with Chelsea now. Sweet. Then this evening I got home to find a letter from Donald, was totally delighted. He does Maths, Further Maths, History, Economics and Music now. Yet another person to make me feel completely inadequate. But he wrote me this amazing letter. ('Sad to hear of your demise'...'I have heard good things about the IB and dreadful things about Essex'...'I am on a train...there goes Leicester.') Incidentally his sister also studies the very same course I got rejected from at UCL (European Social and Political Studies). Damn her. Although I didn't have high expectations for that course, as there are only 30 places and 200 applicants per place, or something. There's always next year. On another day. In a different place.

Today was another completely unproductive day. Had the last ever French and Biology lessons of my entire life. Mr Browne gave us chocolate biscuits and wished us well. Madame Packer lectured us about French grammar.

Four more days.

I've been running every day for over a week now. I'm not sure if it's killing me or doing me the world of good.
x

Ben has vandalised my personal statement. Spot the editing.

2006-03-27T19:49:00.000+01:00

My CAS venture has been a challenging journey through which I have fulfilled my role in my school, community and society, developed a valuable sense of expression and individuality and enabled a range of important fundraising initiatives to be deemed successful.

I would separate my activities over the past two years into three categories, although all three are closely linked and of equal significance. Firstly, there are those in which I was involved as a means of developing and harnessing my own independence and creativity. This includes the art exhibition ‘Familiar Faces’, a radical project through which I was able to showcase my artistic creations in a professional way for the first time. My most important creative pursuit has been my cello-playing, which I feel has progressed considerably over the past two years and for me is a true passion. It is the cello which allows me to lose my inhibitions and express myself freely, and improving my repertoire and musical technique has really helped me become an ambitious young player. I want to do for cello what Vanessa Mae did for violin; whereas Stradivarius created beautiful (yet now hideously expensive) violins, I shall create beautiful cellos, hand crafted with the love embellished on me by my wondrous CAS experiences.

It is rewarding to practise and develop something you are good at, but immensely more demanding to learn something new, and the cookery classes I took, entitled ‘Kitchen Survival’ have been incredibly useful. Together with a class of people my age, I learned how to cook a variety of dishes and meals. Although I have always found cooking very difficult, and initially did not produce perfect results (in fact I distinctly remember one catastrophe involving a cauliflower), I feel that this course has definitely helped, and the recipes we learnt may prove useful during university when I have to start cooking for myself. My favourite dish is one Mr. Gordon Ramsay might describe as squalid; yet I myself see myself cooking it for the entire African nation (which I do in fact believe exists, being a strong supporter of black power movements). The dish in question is cheese on toast. To create the perfect cheese on toast, one must – forget it, you don’t have the talent. Just make sure you remember the Worcester Sauce.

I have also contributed to social harmony through my recent discovery of the wonder of birds and their exciting role within society. I feed the pigeons, I sometimes feed the sparrows too. It gives me a sense of enormous wellbeing. And then I’m happy, for the rest of the day, safe in the knowledge there will always be a bit of my heart devoted to it.

The second category is the activities centred around the school and local community, which have helped me gain confidence in interacting with citizens of all ages, and have given me a new sense of comradeship and social responsibility. This included performing at the annual Christmas OAP party (I persevered despite the weird smell they gave off, which I think deserves extra credits), and with my orchestra at several community venues around the borough. It gives me pride and satisfaction to provide entertainment for the appreciation of other members of my community, and helped me develop respect for people of all ages, and enabled me to interact with a diverse range of people and cultures. I have particularly enjoyed performing in the school play in June, an exciting performance of Shakespeare’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. During the long weeks of rehearsals and line-learning I felt myself rediscovering the power of the stage and developing an understanding of the more technical side of acting: the directing, stage design, management and publicity. I also began to appreciate the talents of those around me, and recognised that I had an important role to play, leading me to a position of responsibility and self-reliance.

The projects which have helped me fulfil my role as global citizen form a third category, and have made me become more aware of ethical issues, and determined to act against social injustice and deprivation. In particular the Model United Nations group that I became involved with in September 2005 has provided me with the opportunities to initiate change: along with a group of equally passionate and dedicated fellow students we embarked on a campaign to achieve Fairtrade status for the school, and to implement Fairtrade products into the school tuck shop and canteen. We held a Fairtrade Taster Day, represented the school at Fairtrade conferences and eventually established a Fairtrade stall in the Sixth Form area, selling over 200 Fairtrade Geobars in less than ten days. Unfortunately the only people even remotely interested in buying the bars, which consisted of congealed raisins and were reminiscent of something my cat would produce, were either deranged ecofreaks, or victims of brainwashing from our highly deceptive publicity campaign. But who cares? We got the CAS hours.

In short, my CAS experience has been demanding and frustrating at times, but I genuinely believe the projects I have been involved with have been beneficial and extremely innovative. Although this section of my diploma has required a lot of extra hours and commitment, which among exams and academic pressure has been incredibly difficult (also pointless), I have enjoyed focusing on initiatives aside from my school subjects, and the work involved has also in general been exciting, varied and rewarding. I have developed better social, political and environmental awareness, and matured considerably throughout this period, gaining a better understanding and enthusiasm for global issues such as global warming, natural disasters and international trade. I have discovered new aspects of my close community, and harnessed my creative talents as well as learning new skills and becoming more responsible, organised and determined. But most importantly for me, and perhaps for others too, the IB CAS scheme has helped me take one step closer to becoming a mature and morally aware global citizen, and has helped me develop an intense spiritual connection with my lifelong idol, Mahatma Gandhi. It has also made me less like Hitler.

So, in summary, without my CAS experiences I don’t think I would have had the drive necessary to create a cure for AIDS; thanks to Bill Gates for the funding, and thank you, IBO, for the inspiration. If only the Catholic Church hadn’t hindered my research.... think what I could have achieved.

2006-03-24T22:29:00.000Z

Some bastard has stolen the toothpaste from the bathroom. It is raining. I am going to bed at quarter to ten.
x

Staring through a thousand dead eyes.

2006-03-20T21:45:00.000Z

Three years today. More than 30,000 civilian deaths.

"The conflict in Iraq is illegal, immoral and unwinnable. We must set a date for final withdrawal, evacuating all our troops and liberating the Iraqi people without foreign bases left in their midst." - Tony Benn

Wracked with guilt that I wasn't there on Saturday.

It seems horribly wrong to follow that with trivial trash about my long, wasted day. I ate and walked and wrote and slept. Nine more days of school, I'm trembling already. No cello lesson, so my Monday evening dragged on for just a bit longer. CAS is a living nightmare. Physics is beyond a joke. I've no time to think, or sleep, but time to waste and fail. Devastating.

My sister has a new job. I remember that library as huge, high and stately, lined to the ceiling, a beautiful, redbricked haven, but today it just seemed shabby and deflated. Yet another childhood illusion crumbles away.
x

You must wonder why I'm relentless and all strung out.

2006-03-17T22:26:00.000Z

Gosh I feel weirdly sleepy and dizzy this evening.

I'm not demonstrating tomorrow. I hate to let people down, but I'm completely exhausted and overwhelmed and it's five weeks until exams, and my head is spinning.

Today's Maths talk made me think, even though I don't want to study it. "Maths is the best thing in the world when you understand it and the worst when you don't". So accurate. It's difficult and abstract and disorientating and frustrating, but ever so rewarding. That's the case with a lot of things. Somewhere there was a glimmer of hope about these exams. Stupid, and strange, to be influenced by a mumbling Imperial graduate working in the city, but there.

Car journeys at night are lovely, and so is Eagle Eye Cherry, but then there was Brentwood, and crowded pubs, and it was a bit of a let down. Plus I don't like Gilbert. Never have, really. And then my train was delayed for thirty frozen, miserable minutes, and there were drunken thirteen year old chavs throwing up, and it was not a good end to an otherwise wonderful Friday. Well, maybe not wonderful, but reassuring, unstressful, and uneventful. Which means wonderful, these days. My one wish is to lapse back to those long, listless summer weeks after GCSEs, before I messed things up, and things became hard and gritty and fragile.

Genuinely can't write any more, my eyelids are drooping and my head is throbbing and I have cold clammy feet. I love you all.
x

And there's no such thing as happily ever after, it just gets dafter...+_+

2006-03-15T00:04:00.000Z

Couldn't face anything yesterday, not even blogging. Collapsed on my bed the second I got in, drifted into an uneasy slumber, and woke up drenched in sweat and fully clothed at eight, blearily wondering who I was, then cursing myself for wasting three hours, thinking about revision, and fuck I was meant to cook the dinner...

Today wasn't much better. Late trains and freezing knees again, and when it arrives I'm crushed by people clambering for work, plunged into the sullen mediocrity of Stratford commuters, waiting for my connection for centuries. I hate the journey even more when I'm alone, head against the glass, familiar brown Romford office blocks streaming past. It feels like I was fucking born on one of those empty green-seated Clacton hellholes.

Went to the exams office to try and sort out this module retake once and for all, hating the corrupt system of privatised exam boards, and money-over-the-counter for a fucking retake. Edexcel is tormenting me. Mr Smith, or whatever his name is, the most drawn, prematurely aged, fucking moth-eaten man I have ever seen is telling me the exam board could refuse you, you should have applied earlier, whatever they say goes, that'll be £30 please, and suddenly I'm trembling, blinking, refusing to cry, pathetically telling myself not to let this stupid man get to me, and somehow I'm in E Block trying to hide the tears, thinking he's wrong, everything's wrong, and why am I even crying anyway?

It was better, when I'd forgotten, when my desire for food caught up with me, when more important anxiety (the "rest-of-my-life" one) suddenly seemed more pressing. Why am I so fucking OK at everything, never passionate or ambitious or inspired, happy to have a vague interest in every fucking thing that's put in front of me? A renaissance lady, that's what my parents say. You shouldn't be unappreciated, you can write and paint and read music, you'll stun people: like Leonardo Da Vinci, with his painting and botany and engineering and wonder. But I'm not stunning, I'm not him, and this is 2006, when I need to specialise and mature and decide, and seriously hasten about it. I can't stand feeling so painfully inadequate.

There are things I could do with a bit more of. Energy, and comfort, and sleep. And there are so many things I could do without.
x

And all the evils in their eyes and the backs of their minds....

2006-03-13T20:18:00.000Z

Daisy chains, and schoolyard games...
Cello lessons on a cold Monday evening. Love love love love love. We played and played and played non-stop for about 35 minutes: all these suites and studies, until my fingers were going to drop off. Then my teacher told me an exciting story about the time he was touring in South Africa and stayed with some Zulus. I was genuinely sad to go. Playing the cello makes me forget everything else, it's something I'm good at, and something I can't ever associate with all the disastrous things in my life. That's why I don't like playing it at home: it's completely out of context. Music and the IB are worlds apart. (This doesn't make much sense, but it does in my mixed-up mind. It's also because I'm lazy and I lack the routine and the concentration to play the cello during the week.)

I've changed my mind about my mother. She's not evil, or disappointed: she's just fucking mental. Today for dinner she served: raw beetroot, patchok in wine and flan. Patchok is some kind of bland, Chinese vegetable. It was the strangest meal I have ever eaten. My mother described it as 'wonderful' and went on to explain how the beetroot was meant to be 'al dente'.

The sun woke me up this morning. It was scarily bright, the winter has flown away, and for a moment it was June. Last June, for some reason, and I was plunged into a weird memory of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and failing my end of term exams, and eating ice cream on the school field and coming home at 7 still in gleaming sunshine. Summer, and noise, and humidity, and craziness and intoxication. It didn't last though, it's still freezing cold outside. But there was this moment, where I was fooled.

There's a thousand things I should have done today. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow I will surprise myself, go wild, do something that's right for me, try a little harder, give a little more. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

I know exactly what's wrong with me. At least I think I do. I'm lazy, I lack focus, I'm weak-willed, I'm disorganised, I'm irritating, I talk too much and don't work enough. I'm not going to write several paragraphs about it, because it seems self-deprecating and pointless, and I don't want sympathy, only I can help myself. This will either seem really rather cryptic, or kind of attention-seeking. Or perhaps just garbled teenage angst, to be ignored. It's probably all three, but it's real and it's spontaneous, and whoever cared about coherence and congruity anyway?

You know this journey that we're all on? The long, exciting one, that's meant to have a destination? I'm a bit lost. I'm stuck. There a tube strike, I'm in a traffic jam, we've run out of fuel in the desert, I've broken my leg, the boat has sunk, the train has crashed, the road has stopped moving, the world has stopped spinning.
x

Now it's three in the morning and you're eating alone.

2006-03-13T18:17:00.000Z

Blogging the minute I get in, before I've even kicked off my shoes and put the kettle on: now that's commitment. Or desperation, you decide.

My mother isn't very nice to me. I know she taught me to read, brought me up, etc. but I don't consider myself financially indebted to her. She could have used contraception. My dad could have had that vasectomy a few months earlier. As far as I'm concerned, having a baby ties you down and costs you money. I'm not a lodger, and I'm not moving out in September. I don't think it's unreasonable that I expect them to pay for university. I don't feel bad that she still does my washing for me. I cook and clean, I'm nice to her when she's nice to me. I behave like an adult when she treats me like one. When I want £10 to go out, I don't want to have to beg her for it. I'm fairly normal for a seventeen year old in full time education. I don't make unrealistic demands. I consider it slightly unreasonable when she wakes me up at 6.30 to shout at me, and tell me she won't drop me in East Ham. I don't even mind walking to East Ham, it's more the waking me up too early that I hate. It's her behaving like a martyr. It's her telling me how unreasonable and unpleasant I am to live with. It's her not even treating me like I live here, creating some sort of delusion that me leaving will make her life complete and give her some sort of immaculate peace and sanctity. Complaining about the bad things, and not acknowledging the good things. I'm talking about me cooking a meal for her when I'm shattered and have exams the next day, and her storming in and shouting at me. Her barely being able to admit that the meal was OK, that she actually likes having people in the house, that I do give something back, that I do do something right once in a while. If she hates having me around, if me leaving makes her life complete then why did she have me? I truly believe that she shaped the way I behave, and I don't think she did a bad job. She's never happy with me. She has high expectations, which I can never fulfil. I'm sorry Mum, but I got rejected from Oxford, and I'm not going to pass my course with flying colours. I'm not going to study medicine or law. I haven't got a rich, clever, beautiful boyfriend. I can't do everything you want all of the time. Yes, I argue with you. Yes, I disappoint you. What is it you want?

I'm not saying all this because I want her to give me more money, or because I can't be bothered to do all my washing. Maybe my sisters had it worse off. Maybe I should obey and accept. But I'm writing this because I can't understand her, and apparently she can't understand me. We have odd flickers of closeness, but essentially I'm not quite what she wants, at all. Should I change for her, or is it her who should change for me? Can't we meet halfway, or something?

I don't want what you want
I don't feel what you feel
See I'm stuck in a city
But I belong in a field
Yeah we got left, left, left, left, left, left....

I love The Strokes.
x

D'you want to go to the seaside?

2006-03-12T20:56:00.000Z

I'm not trying to say that everyone wants to go...
I fell in love at the seaside.
She handled her charm with time and slight of hand.

Haven't been feeling very expressive lately, I'm all garbled and inarticulate and skatty. This extends beyond my blog. I keep saying the wrong things to the wrong people and fretting about little things, like I'm a nervous wreck.

People keep trying to reassure me, it never works, but it means alot. I feel like I'm still going through obscure, fanciful phases, and fluttering from one thing to the other, and then collapsing into a disappointed heap and breaking down. I should pull myself together. In June I'll have nothing left, not even the remnants of stability that I find in school and train journeys and early mornings. Freedom, that's what it's called. I don't feel remotely liberated by the thought of it, though. The prospect of having nowhere to go and nothing to do no longer seems like some blissful, decadent abyss, just depressing and disparaging. Maybe even a little pointless. And almost certainly completely terrifying.

Becky looked beautiful yesterday. Her gloves were scarlet and her dress was amazing. And Michael drove me all the way home and I was racked with guilt all day for that. It was a strange evening to be honest, I trawled the streets of Witham in silver sandals which left grooves in my freezing feet, and then drank a little and danced a lot. Or maybe vice versa. 'The world around us makes me feel so small...' It's still in my head, even today. For some reason.

Either way, it was probably the last time I go out in a while. Exams, and all that stuff. Was invited to Maria's birthday party tonight, but realistically there was no way I was going. I don't have a cocktail dress, and I'm shattered.

But there were some good times, among the shambolic, hazy fragments of my weekend. Singing Oasis at the top of our voices all the way home. Starbucks on a strange, sleepy Friday. Eating boiled eggs, and sleeping. Oh, and Philip Bloomfield dancing wildly to Cotton Eye Joe... that was a sight to see.
x

My only comfort is the night gone black.

2006-03-08T20:44:00.000Z

Just recieved a letter from Queen Mary College, saying 'Thank you for attending an interview and Open Day on 18th January 2006. I am pleased to inform you that you will soon be recieving details of a conditional offer."

Seeing as I didn't actually attend an interview on 18th January, and nor did I even tell them I couldn't be bothered to go, this comes as somewhat of a surprise, and just proves that the whole interview process is a waste of everybody's time.

Not that I particularly want to go to Queen Mary or anything.

Today was a rather hazy day, tense and frustrating, and it's been raining and raining this horrible, soggy, soul-drenching drizzle for hours. My brain seems to be working a lot slower than usual, and my concentration comes and goes, and I'm so incredibly weary and it's only Wednesday. Perhaps it's that dreadful Fairtrade wine that I tasted at the conference yesterday, which by the way was actually fairly enjoyable (the conference, not the wine): especially the chocolate cake. Although drinking smoothies and watching M*A*S*H at Phil's house was more fun. (SO should have been working last night...)

Seriously wish I still had some sort of motivation left in me. Jesus, it's hard enough waking up in the morning, understanding physics and even finding a Cowboy/Indian costume for Becky's party, let alone all these exams and this staggering commotion. In my questionnaire (if you can call it that, it was more like a confusing mess of numbers, badly phrased questions and irritating pedantry) I described the IB as 'horrible, oppressive, undervalued, scarcely understood, illogical and badly structured'. Sadly I got so bored of rating every aspect of my school using a complex numerical system that I ended up desperately filling in random numbers, so that my criticism probably dramatically contradicts the rest of it. What a waste of time.

Things that have annoyed me today: the holes in my tights, Bridget's control-freakery, Tasch being evasive, Henry being defensive, the train, rain, this horrible strain....
Uptight, aren't I?

Songs with good intros: Eagle Eye Cherry - Save Tonight, Edith Piaf - La Foule, Garbage - Stupid Girl and The Libertines - Death On The Stairs.

The Strokes were AWESOME on radio 1, and I love the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs song. Yes. That's about it.
x

P.S. Reporter: Are you off drugs yet?
Pete Doherty: What sort of a question is that on a Tuesday morning?

2006-03-08T18:43:00.000Z

Ouch. Just spilt scalding hot tea all over my lap.

I'd love to stay here and be normal.

2006-03-05T23:37:00.000Z

All the time that slips through your fingers sits here with me where it can malinger
Within two and a half hands and a face without eyes
Time stands still, where it usually flies. *

Every day I do a million things wrong. Without meaning to, without having to, without wanting to. My life is a viscious circle at the moment, and I'm not sure whether I'm helpless or whether I'm just not trying. What's the difference anyway?

I watched "My Summer of Love" on Friday. Terrifying, mesmerising, delicate. Pretty damn awesome. Very real.

And then there was Saturday. Played the cello until my fingers were red and raw, and then saw Roshni. Talked and laughed and ate and talked some more.

In March I have to do three concerts, I'm not ready for any of them.
In May I have to do fifteen exams. Not ready for them, either.
All I'm ready to do is curl up, sleep, eat, dream. Die, regret, mourn, worry, waste and churn. Ebb and flow and fade. Bite and sow and collapse. Watch. Feel. Hurt.

I'm constantly letting down so many people. Strangers and friends.

And then there's myself.
And then there's me.
x

*Copyright 'Broken Clock' by Reid

A little girl, with nothing wrong, is all alone.

2006-03-03T19:33:00.000Z

She looks like an Edward Hopper painting.
x

A simpering, whimpering child again.

2006-03-03T17:52:00.000Z

Everyone is out. Mum, Dad and Duncan have gone to a restaurant. Jack is probably in the Live And Let Live. It's Friday night. I have nothing planned.

I've finally done my English Oral, but it was punctuated with repetition and awkward pauses. I don't think I've done very well. And I revised for hours as well.

I am going to do my Biology write-ups, and tidy my room. Like a good girl. I don't really know why I'm so oddly subdued, really. Just the usual, unavoidable reasons that I already complain incessantly about. Sometimes, in fact most of the time, I feel like this blog is becoming pointless, and insincere. I only update it for to fullfil some sort of shallow, unsatisfying obligation. It's not deep, and it's not lifechanging. It doesn't shift continents, or start wars. As Sarah once said (and I hate to steal her eloquence) "What I write about is nothing: music and drinking, nights out with good friends and virtual strangers. There's no emotion and no meaning. This is not a blog; it's an extended pop-culture reference." This blog has become a futile, unshocking, uncontroversial, and perpetually tedious project. I have nothing much to say, and no way of expressing what I feel. It's just diatribe. Angsty teenage banter. Garbage. Waves of the same emotions, the same worries and pedantic frustrations, copyrighted lyrics, and Googled images. You could do better yourself.

Everything I seem to do is a distraction, and this is a particularly repetitive, inarticulate one. There are more important things.

But I guess there always are. The only problem is that either I haven't discovered them, or I can't appreciate them.
x

P.S. "Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds / And each slow dusk a drawing down of blinds." I love you Timmy.

Eating blue Smarties 'cos she's rock'n'roll.

2006-03-01T19:56:00.000Z

Just spent an hour and a half cooking dinner. This was apparently not good enough according to my mother, who complained that:
I hadn't used any garlic.
The plates weren't hot enough.
I hadn't put the salad servers on the table.
I hadn't wiped the surfaces.
I hadn't cooked any brocolli.
I hadn't cooked any Jerusalem artichokes.

She then proceeded to complain, and interrogate about:
School.
Exams.
My teachers.
How much work I'd been doing.
Why I didn't deserve any money.
Why I was going to fail the IB.

Marvellous. What a horrible horrible day. Couldn't face school because I'm sick of teachers wasting my time.

My eyes sting, my hair is horrible and my feet are cold.

On the bright side, I have cookies. And Graham Coxon is on the radio. Live.
x

Simple but somehow impressive.

2006-02-28T14:37:00.000Z

Mmmmm. Pancakes and honey and golden syrup and lemon and sugar. A very lazy decadent day. I've eaten enough calories for a week. Have decided to give up Marsbars and Limewire for Lent. Not that I'll actually manage it, but never mind. I'm not Catholic anyway.

Came home early and revised Othello in my room. Well, I helf revised Othello and half downloaded music. I'm blatantly going to fail my English Oral. Othello just doesn't interest me much, it's nothing compared to Hamlet or Macbeth. Or maybe Ms Gargen is just shit. Seems more likely, all she does is mumble about her wild carefree days in South Africa where all she did was drink black coffee, and then let us go halfway through the lesson because she's run out of things to say. She's nice. But not inspiring.

It's Tuesday, and already my bedroom is a total mess. I tidied it less than 48 hours ago, but there are clothes strewn across the floor, books is heaps everywhere and five mugs on my desk. The mug situation is seriously getting out of hand: I either need to stop drinking tea, or start taking them downstairs. Preferably the latter.

Yesterday Mr Rudall and I had a long conversation about movies, Jake Gyllehaal, Ken Livingstone, Ms Warren, recorders, shoes and The Mystery Jets, amongst other things. My cello lesson is the highlight of the week sometimes.

And on Saturday I went to a ball. A proper dancy, floaty-dress type ball in a lovely venue, with lots of people I love but don't see often enough. It was good fun. I deeply regret not staying in Newham sometimes. In fact most of the time. My orchestra friends are the only people who have been stable in my life for ten years...

(Too bad Johnathan Loh's irritating friend tried to chat me up.)
x

The Things I Live For

2006-02-27T21:38:00.000Z

Tea, charity shops, eyeliner, The Dandy Warhols, colouring pencils, Gwen John, bright beads, badges, fruit and ice cream, lie-ins, Germaine Greer, woolly scarves, stickers, libraries, rain, The South Bank, post-it notes, pearls, birthday cards, hugs, drawing pins, wide open spaces, smiles, art galleries, windows, mittens, Posy Simmonds, books with colour pictures in them, Garden State, cutting and pasting, live music, dresses, talking for a long time, cellos, Arctic Monkeys, clumsiness, paintings, hot showers and cold sheets, orange and blue, wild dancing, Tony Benn, yellow bananas, Starbucks, sunshine and snow, screaming, black and white photos, Jake Gyllenhaal, darkness, calendars, The Tiger Who Came To Tea, beautiful waves, Blur, polka dots.

P.S. Oh Jesus. Just discovered a blog devoted eentirely to Paris Hilton.

So now you fall asleep inside a tambourine.

2006-02-24T00:34:00.000Z

Thursday nights are the new Friday nights apparently. Fittingly, tonight I went shopping, watched a movie, and then went to the Pub Quiz as well (we didn't win though). Weird the way Brokeback Mountain wasn't sad at all the first time I saw it but tonight I was in floods of tears. Perhaps subconciously I was crying about other things.

There seem to be loads of social events all coming up at the same time in the next few weeks. I didn't really go out properly all of last term, except for two trips to the cinema. In fact the last time I did anything wild was on New Year's Eve, so perhaps I deserve to have a little fun. Although the exam and revision situation is getting desperate. It's hard to relax when there are always things on your mind. Nevertheless I shall be at Becky's 'Cow people and Native Americans' party, and probably Phil's party too. Haven't got a costume for either.

What I'm listening to right now:
- The Kooks: Naive, Sofa Song, Too Much of Nothing
- Hard-Fi: Stars of CCTV
- The Feeling: Sewn
- KT Tunstall: Another Place To Fall
- And Arctic Monkeys, in general, as usual.

Can't wait to leave school.
x

A generation lost in space, with no time left to start again.

2006-02-22T21:02:00.000Z

Spent today's CAS lesson coming up with "amusing" slogans for our the publicity campaign for our new Fairtrade stall to be set up at breaktime selling Fairtrade Geobars, including:

"Have YOU been GEOBARRED?"
"Fancy a GEOBARGAIN? Try new Fairtrade Geobars!"
"We're all going GEOBARMY!!"
"Let's go on a GEOBAR CRAWL!" (possibly the worst...)
"Her GEOBARK is worse than her bite!" (getting desperate)
"Don't be a GEOBASTARD! Buy our Geobars!" (possibly we won't get away with this one...)

If anyone has any more suggestions...
And while we're there I may as well plug the Geobar website.

I seem to be spending extended periods of time drinking tea at my desk wrapped in a sleeping bag. There are now five empty mugs on my desk. I should get out more. Gaby invited me to the cinema tomorrow, which was sweet of her as Katrina and Louise are always a bit cold about inviting me out. I might go. It's not like I'd get much work done if I went home....
x
P.S. I really should get over Natalie Portman....

You stopped the blood and made my head soft

2006-02-21T23:45:00.000Z

My osmosis experiment involving carrots did not work AT ALL. My results show NOTHING. Some of the carrots SHRANK when they weren't meant to. I was taking results during Ms Peach's sex education class, not a pleasant experience. A load of rowdy, hyperactive year 9s were throwing things and shouting over an extremely patronising video. Believe it or not this ruined my whole day today.

Apart from that I'm feeeling relaxed and revived for a change. Little things cheer me up. Went to Ilford Salvation Army charity shop and bought two scarves. Ate Liquorice Allsorts. Listened to Hard-Fi. Fell asleep fully clothed on my bed at five and woke up at nine. Ate Honeydew melon. Worked a little.

Life isn't so bad, really.

It would be even better if I knew how to answer the following question:

A garden roller consists of a solid steel cylinder of mass 40kg and diameter 0.5m. The roller, fitted with a light handle, is pulled to the top of a uniform slope of length 30m. Given the angle of the slope to the horizontal is 10°, calculate:
a) the fall of height and the loss of P.E. when the roller is released at rest and rolls to the lower end of the slope.
b) its speed at the bottom of the slope.

Oh dear. I can see it's a fairly easy question but I can't do it. I need some help. Might have to go and ask Mr Adcock tomorrow, officially the grumpiest, moaniest, whiniest person ever.

x

And these tiresome paper dreams, paper dreams honey...

2006-02-20T00:34:00.000Z

Everything's swimming in my head tonight. I hate the time it takes me to do anything. I hate my lack of optimism and my unintentional complaisence. I hate how I underachieve without meaning to.

I feel so vulnerable. I'm seventeen. But everything I do in the next two months will dictate my entire future. I don't know what I want, or what I'll do next year, but it won't be university. I need time and space, and a second chance, and some calm before the storm of life as an adult. I don't want to travel, or help people, I don't have an exciting project planned for next year. I don't know what's good for me. I feel like I'm making my life up as I go along. I'm not sure if it's down to fate, or laziness. I've made the wrong decisions, I've wasted time and wasted energy. I've become cynical, and nervous and emotional and confused. I find talking so difficult. I disappoint people, I mislead them, I annoy them. I try to change and fail. I do the right thing for ten seconds and it's an achievement. I celebrate by doing the wrong thing again. I find myself doing the exact things I criticised in other a year ago. I dream and provaricate and complain. I don't know how to change. I forget things, and blame myself.

It's completely shattering how different everything looks now compared to one year ago. I remember Claire in her red coat telling me not to take the IB. I remember thinking how silly and hysterical she was. I remember truly believing I had made the right choice. I need to stop blaming others, and I need to stop blaming myself. I feel inadequate, and inarticulate.

David Irving was sentenced to three years in jail tonight. I am glad he is finally being brought to justice. What he said about the Holocaust was a disgusting racist lie. He cannot dismiss it as opinion, nor can he trivialise it as seventeen years old. If Irving had studied the IB and written a TK essay he would know that a statement like "The Holocaust did not happen" cannot be considered opinion and has no subjective basis. I am a strong believer in freedom of speech, but as with any freedom, it comes with responsability. Disguising racist lies as truth or opinion is not exercising social responsibility, and it is this which makes the anti-Semitic lies spawned by the National Front, the BNP and Irving, and the racist cartoons printed in Denmark completely despicable. Freedom of speech does not excuse outright discrimination.

On the other hand Blair's ludicrous ideas about banning the glorification of terrorism are stupid and futile. Blair is trying to delude himself, and us, that 9/11 and 7/7 happened as a result of some kind of legal flaw, and that a restriction of civil liberties will somehow solve all his problems. It is patently obvious that both events were largely due to US/UK policy in the Middle East. Everything Blair and Bush have done for the 'War on Terror' has been immersed in ambiguity and propaganda. As Nancy Snow put it 'the phrase "War on Terrorism" is itself a propaganda message. By design it elevates the language of conflict, suggesting that all other options (negotiation, international courts of justice, international policing) have been exhausted, when the reality is they were never seriously considered.' At least in Britain, shockingly monopolised as the press may be, we are not subjected to propaganda as deceptive and offensive as the US campaigns, where adverts are even targeted specifically at women: "You, as a woman and perhaps a mother, may be in a unique position to act against international terrorism". The fact that the US government generates this is even more disturbing than the fact that American women respond to it...
x

Mascara bleeds a blackened tear

2006-02-19T21:08:00.000Z

Leaping lizards, it's Sunday night all over again.

The Physics lectures I went to today were actually fairly interesting. The first one was all about medical physics: ultrasound, the doppler effect, and the way waves are used to detect heart rate, and to track unborn and premature babies' blood flow through the brain. Then everyone filed outside and helped themselves to free crisps and apple juice. The second lecturer, half an hour late, showed us all these crazy clips of people skydiving in bright orange suits and squatting and swimming around idiotically in the air whilst plunging towards earth at 75mph. He briefly spoke of the dynamics involved, but seemed more enthusiastic to overuse his visual aids and plug the British Parachuting website. All in all a very engaging afternoon. Weirdly enough, Johanna didn't turn up........... spooky. It's not the sort of thing she would miss.

Afterwards I could have got a train from Euston Square, or Goodge Street, or Warren Street or something but there were rumours the tube wasn't working, so I went on a fairly pointless walk to King's Cross in the rain, just because I felt like walking. It was very pretty there somehow, dark and shiny and wet. I got on a random bus, which incidentally took me to Liverpool Street. Three trains an hour on Sunday. Irritating.

Cooked pasta, drank tea, had a hot shower. I feel sleepy now, and warm, and miserable that it's Sunday.

This is the last day of the last half term of my life.
x
P.S. Just heard the new Streets song: what has happened?? It's deeply irritating and has absolutely no rhyme or rhythm.

Lend me a whole new world

2006-02-18T23:40:00.000Z

Just read a disturbing accurate review decribing Kaiser Chiefs as "eurocentric indiepop flimflam".

Hello. I seem to have wasted the whole day, myspacing, drinking tea, killing time, reading, thinking, and delaying.

I so wish I didn't have to go back to school in 36 hours.

I'm not ready.

I don't like the White Stripes (particularly) but I love Lego and this just rules. It's like a year old though. And Goldfrapp is dangerously cool, though this video is very disturbing (in a good way). I totally disagree with Philip Bloomfield about female vocalists, he is clearly spouting misogynist crap. He is proved wrong by: Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Garbage, KT Tunstall, Goldfrapp, Nora Jones, Sugababes, Regina Spektor etc. etc. etc. PHIL YOU ARE WRONG! WRONG I SAY!

I'm only posting out of obligation today. And that is all.

But she's cold inside

2006-02-17T22:33:00.000Z

I'm sitting at my desk drinking tea and the cat is draped across my knee. I've been feeling weirdly emotional today. Probably because I've been spending too long on my own. The heating is up very high, and I'm wearing a jumper and extra tights as usual.

Well I thought Casanova was pretty good, but other people described it as 'shit' and 'contrived'. It was quite clearly meant to be an amusing, trashy, eighteenth century comedy sketch, what were they expecting?

Anyway, it was nice to see people again. Just nice. And then I came home, and cooked my cookies and ate one of them, and realised my brother was home very early too and that he was working and that I should probably be working too.

I've mastered rotational dynamics and revised the Vienna Peace Conference this holiday though. It's something. The best achievement, though, was being able to sit down in the afternoon and do a couple of hours of work without procrastinating, getting depressed, losing concentration, and finding everything unrealistically hard. I'm beginning to work for myself, instead of for other people. How I wish I could have learnt this two years ago. Why did no one teach me this? In year eleven I worked because someone told me too. In year twelve I didn't work because no one told me to.

There's just this horrible leap from dependence to responsiblity, and no one tells you when to make it, and most people pick the wrong time. Too early. Or too late. That's why this whole year is an endless struggle. That's why I'm not going to university in September. That's why most people are.

The fire fades away
Most of everyday
Is full of tired excuses
But it's too hard to say
I wish it were simple
But we give up easily
You're close enough to see that
You're the other side of the world to me

xxxxx

She moves in her own way

2006-02-16T23:59:00.001Z

Endless train journeys are somewhere between tedious and totally aggravating. Seven hours seems disproportionately long to travel from Wales to England. (They are next door to each other!)

Wales was marvellous. I forget how good it feels to be so far away from it all, but escapism is pure peachy bliss. Swimming in the Irish Sea in February is like agony and ecstacy at once, something you find in few other activites that don't involve drugs. Apparently. Amazingly enough, my grandad managed to restrain himself from racist Welsh jokes for at least two days. Unfortunately everything went downhill very quickly when my uncle and his army of people/animals arrived. Collectively they are the ultimate case of "LOVE their dog, HATE them". Jimminy (stupid name, but smart dog) is completely sane, affectionate and modest. The rest of them aren't. My uncle spends most of his time talking about things he's bought, and advising me to "keep off drugs, kiddo", "go to Durham, that's where you really want to be", and "buy one of the brilliant pressure cleaners for your patio, they're SO handy." My uncle is the last person I want to take advice from, I might end up failing a degree in Geography, living in horrible middle-class suburbia, and turning into a wanker.

Wow I'm tired. But happy, I actually did some work this holiday, and my Nana gave me some Welsh honey which I shall have on my toast tomorrow (if there's any bread in this hellhole). It's satisfying not to have wasted five whole days.

On the other hand I have killed quite alot of time over the past few days watching trash on TV, including 'Intolerable Cruelty' - fairly amusing garbage consisting of Catherine Zeta-Jones and George Clooney trying to screw money out of each other, various episodes of Desperate Housewives and Hollyoaks, and The Lavender Hill Mob, also ridiculous but entertaining ("by jove Holland, it's a good job we're both honest men" - this had me laughing for far far too long). Also saw Saturday Night And Sunday Morning, which was as good as it's meant to be.

A pint: that's very nearly an armful!

2006-02-06T22:03:00.000Z

And so, I bring you this blog entry with 475ml less blood inside me.

There's really nothing invigorating about giving blood, even if you reassure yourself of all the dangerously ill people you are saving. To be honest it was quite terrifying. There was quite a long queue of people to begin with, and I had to wait for twenty minutes before anyone noticed I was there. Then there were long forms to fill out asking me whether I had had any diseases, whether I had slept with anyone who had any diseases, and whether I had slept with anyone who had slept with anyone who had had any disease, whether I had visited places where there is alot of AIDs or malaria, whether I had had any tattoos, got any piercings, taken any medication, had unprotected sex, was secretly pregnant, was breastfeeding, had had sex for money or drugs, had shared needles, etc etc etc. Then they asked me all these questions again. Twice. Then I waited a bit longer. Then they asked me some more questions and took a jab from my finger. Then they told me I may be slightly anaemic and they had to take a proper blood test. Then they took a blood test to see how much iron I had in me: you needed 125 to pass, and I had 126 so I hadn't been completely wasting my time. Then I lay down and my blood ran into a plastic container for around ten minutes. Afterwards I felt faint so they raised my legs and put a wet cloth on my face for ages. Finally I was given custard creams and orange squash.

It was quite an adventure. Though they denied me of a 'I gave blood today' sticker. Tried to exploit the giving blood thing to persuade my mother to buy me Haribo/chocolate milk/ice cream/Coca Cola, but she wasn't having any of it: offered me curly cale and liver pate instead.

Apart from that, an uneventful day, and an uneventful weekend. Watched 'Walk The Line' on Saturday, which was marvellous. It's nice to see Reese Witherspoon actually acting. Revised and abridged my TK essay, it's still over the wordcount. Avoided doing anything vaguely connected to vectors. Read. Slept. Ate branflakes.

Can't wait can't wait can't wait for Friday......
xxxxxxxxxxxx

In your freezing arms.

2006-02-02T19:22:00.000Z

In the last forty-eight hours I:

Drank eleven cups of tea.
Nearly finished three pieces of coursework. Nearly.
Finished one book and started another.
Shouted at several people, some of whom deserved it and some of whom didn't.
Had three showers.
Slept for nowhere near long enough.
Went to four lessons, bunked one lesson and cursed/celebrated about two cancelled ones.
Insulted Ms Ebbs/Lynne Brown/Katrina/"Mikey C" and his gang/the IB/the school library/the school internet server.
Wasted time designing fairtrade T-shirt logos and listening to the Rakes.
Ate beans-on-toast, macaroni cheese, chocolate, red peppers and oranges.
Caught eight trains.
Laughed at seaweed costumes/your face/Theo's chin/Joao.

x

P.S. If you're as bored and as disillusioned as I am, click here.

So all that's left...

2006-01-27T21:43:00.000Z

...is the proof that love's not only blind but deaf.

Two very good things happened today:
1. I bought a purple hoody.
2. I got tickets to see The Rakes.

"The Rakes?" my mum said, "are you sure they're not morally depraved?". My dad said "They could be called The Fluffy Angels and be morally depraved". He then got the Chambers Dictionary out to show me that the definition of "rake" was "a debauched or dissolute person".
"I think they mean garden forks" I said.

Wanted to see The Ordinary Boys but tickets have sold out and are over £50 on Ebay. Bloody Big Brother.

All I ate all day was:
1 apple
1 orange
sausage roll
1 apple juice
2 marbars
1 packet of jelly babies
Chinese takeaway

I don't think I'll live for much longer. I have eaten at least one Marsbar every day for the last week.

I went to Boots in Romford, and my bag cut into my shoulder as I traipsed home in my battered green pumps. As I reached my road it started to snow. It wouldn't set, but it was a beautiful moment, watching the flakes illuminated under the dim orange street lamps. Fragile.

Tomorrow I am going to meet Tony Benn. Now he beats The Rakes any day, he's about as far away from debauchery as one can get...
x
P.S. No one tell Katrina about The Rakes. It's a surprise.
P.P.S. Five thousand hits!!!

People are fragile things. (You should know by now.)

2006-01-22T19:12:00.000Z

Today was depressing. The whale died. I nearly fell down the stairs, broke the hole-puncher so that a million paper holes flew all over my room and the scratch on my nose started bleeding again. Nice. My parents were out all day. My brother hasn't woken up yet. It is quarter past seven. I called him twice about half an hour ago to see if he wanted dinner. He was lying in bed fully clothed wearing a woolly hat.

(And I thought I was a slacker.)

Couldn't be bothered to cook anything, I'm trying to learn about vectors. Ate several oat cakes and two bananas instead. It's just one of those lonesome, sleepy Sundays where nothing happens for hours and then before you know it the tug and pull of Monday morning is upon you.

My blog is now one year old. I can't think of anything I've achieved in the last year, apart from churn out self-pitying bullshit across the internet. Depressing thought. Incidentally, and fittingly, tomorrow is supposed to be the most depressing day of the year. Makes sense really: bitter weather, tax returns, and the crushing anti-climax after Christmas and New Year.

Last year me and Louise went to three gigs, saw one movie and had one house party for our brithdays. Unfortunately this means whatever we do this year will be shit, even though we're turning eighteen - how much does that suck?? Would love to go to see We Are Scientists, or Editors, or The Ordinary Boys. The first two are sold out. Does anyone want to come and see The Ordinary Boys with me? Please? Katerina & Louise don't seem very bothered.

Anyway, whatever happens it won't be too bad. There'll be cake. And laughter.
x

I blossomed into nothing.

2006-01-18T22:47:00.000Z

When were those crisp, unsullied hours when chaos, noise and
anger were unreal? How I yearned and stretched,
groaned, desired and reached.
Schooldays’ idiotic cravings are mindless, numb and false.
Soon the world beyond the railings crashes into view:
a strangely torturous struggle,
our nine-to-five lives seeping slowly into sand.

Bring me back the shining shield of infant night time bliss.

General personal anguish, you can ignore this.

2006-01-17T23:56:00.000Z

WHY did I choose to study Physics? It certainly wasn't so that I could waste my entire life writing about latent heat, free fall acceleration and bloody bifilar suspension. I ache from numbers and words. They disturb me and frighten me and blur my vision. I wake up sweating at night, haunted by giant adiabatic expansion graphs and walking talking calorimeters. I have three weeks to hand in enough practical write-ups to stop me failing the IB. And three months to learn all the Maths I should have spent two years learning. And I haven't started my TK essay, or my maths coursework, or my French oral. In fact, just kill me now. Or kill my soul at least.

That's enough angst and self-pity for now.
x

As the sky split open into a thunderstorm...

2006-01-16T15:37:00.000Z

The road to exams, failure and misery is getting steeper and rockier. And I should have learnt about the Normal Distribution and revised Group Theory for today's exam. But I forgot. Or I didn't get round to it. Just somehow, time slipped away, furtive, forgotten.

I sincerely hope this won't happen in the real exams.

The 'Cafedirect' Fairtrade people sent me another huge hamper full of free goodies to use in our Fairtrade promotional events. Including chocolate. I was very, very, very tempted. As was Claire Collier, unsurprisingly. She always appears to be a) incredibly hungry and b) seeking help with a completely futile piece of homework about Disneyland Paris.

Why do people take Business Studies. WHY?

This will have to be a short, and rather tedious entry. I'm busy eating carrots and doing Physics Write-Ups.

...holding my cindery, non-existant, radiant flesh. Incandescent.
x

Where the sun is not shining...

2006-01-15T20:15:00.000Z

A luscious, lazy, revision-free weekend. Brokeback Mountain was beautiful. More specifically Jake Gyllenhaal was beautiful. Plus horses and sheep and cowboys and Tammy Wynette in the soundtrack. It couldn't get much better than that.

Have been sitting around in my enormous blue woolly jumper doing nothing. Watching, waiting, procrastinating. In five months time I will undoubtedly regret this alot. In five months I will probably regret my entire existence alot.

My brother found his digital camera. Behind the radiator. Strangely enough my music certificates were also there. You're probably bored of photos of my room by now. Notice how the books are colour-coded, instead of in alphabetical order. It was just easier. And I suck.
x

Don't tell us that the world is lemon-scented.

2006-01-13T18:14:00.000Z

Eleven things that are very overated:
1. Smoking
2. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
3. The IB
4. The OC
5. The NME
6. Alex Turner
7. Red Bull
8. Pete Doherty/Kate Moss
9. The Olympic Games
10. Converse/Nike
11. Straight Hair

Eleven things that definitely aren't overated:
1. Central heating
2. We Are Scientists
3. Three day weekends
4. Preston (well, maybe just a bit then)
5. London
6. Blood oranges, peaches, carrots
7. Sleep
8. Illegal downloading
9. Noise, chaos, destruction
10. Scarlet Johansson
11. First Impressions of Earth

Frighten me, enlighten me, oh oh.
x