Has anyone noticed just how shit things have become? Surely you've thought it, looked back on the days where you didn't need a job, didn't need ID, didn't need anything but a bottle of WKD and your friends and thought 'Jesus, i miss that'. These days it's all UCAS applications, vicious circles, and debt. I am trying not to dwell so much on the past but when your present is making you sick it's hard not to. This week for me has been one of firsts, the first time i've been referred to as a step-daughter, the first time i've not missed a lesson, and the first time i've evaluated my drug addiction. I returned today from london where i had spent the last 30 hours pretending to be a model daughter, for those of you who have never had the displeasure to have to do this, it is made of four main ignominies:
1. Smile constantly
2. Laugh at all jokes, however stale
3. Dance with your father and try not to kick him (deliberately or otherwise)
4. Drink as much free wine as possible.
Personally i think i did a bang up job of concealing my ruthless and unrelenting rage but i can not be utterly sure as i thought i did pretty well in my drama GCSE as well and that turned out to be very untrue. All i know is i was invited back 'Anytime darling' to what i can now refer to as; My father's house. I spent most of the night pining for Brighton as i was gravely aware of two very long-awaited events going on simultaneously to my dad's "oh by the way i got married" celebration. This is one thing i can admit about myself, i get terrible "fun envy".
For example, if i have a choice of two parties in one night i will inextricably end up feeling as though i have missed out. If someone in my vicinity is on something and i am merely drunk or sober then i will experience a burning desire to join them until i either give in and call my dealer or i fall asleep. This is what has lead me to believe i am an addict. Not in the way that i get itchy, sell my organs, or cry if i don't receive my fix but by an exclusive inclination to be the highest at any offered occasion. If i were to suddenly find myself in a convent where the residents were never on drugs then i would be content. However if i were to say return to a festival this weekend i guarantee either i wouldn't survive or i would return with at least a minor form of brain damage. I've always been a cheery fucker with a prominent emphasis on the positive, and today i am being no different; I am positive that I will not make it to 18 at this rate. I am positive I need to slow down. And most importantly I am positive that I neither want to nor am capable of doing so. The reason I tell you this internet is that i want you all to know that when you hear from some source or another that my body was found with my brain eroded and my blood 90% toxins you will know that it was no one's fault but my own. In addition to this, mighty following, This is a warning to myself more than anything. But children it is also a warning to you, as my friends you are probably all just as dependent on drugs as I am (and i'm not talking class A's, tobacco, alcohol and marijuana are all classified as drugs too). We must quit whilst we are ahead; and alive. Your teenage years are said to be the best of your life, but mine are passing in a very expensive haze. The older generation say experiment whilst you're young, but what happens if your curiosity turns to dependence? Your rush to reliance? Desire to obsession? I for one will not be quitting drugs, i will still have a roll-up on the way to college, still partake in drinking games, and i will occasionally dapple in the dark art of assorted substances. However I will no longer allow my rapture to get the better of me and will only do each in moderation and never again allow myself to repress my fear of my own expiration. Because this isn't ecstasy, it's leprosy. A long time ago I created a post entitled 'Never drink anything that looks like chemicals, and tastes like cough syrup' in which I spoke about how I knew my limits. Well I think I have reached and exceeded them in every possible way since September. I have twisted and mutated each and every aspect of my mental stability. I have had enough and now I intend to give my immune system a well-deserved nap. Let the torture ensue.
I know this blog has been abused recently, i've been using it like some kind of jeremy kyle tribute to put my own mortality under the microscope and in doing so accomplishing nothing but confusion and acrimony. I have also been invariably using this space for my own agoraphobic needs and it is for both of these offences that I am sorry. I am sure next time i hail to click on this prototypical conformity I will be back to my personalities usual concoction of the psychotic and the analytic. Or i'll just tumultuously ramble on until my brain gives up or I am carted away for insanity because that is what the internet is for. Freedom of expression. And as a wise man once said; Don't give a child a gun, unless you want him to use it.
"No matter what, even if I take my meds and I heal myself I'll still be insane. But that is what I want, to be someone to relate to for anyone who is as alienated, awkward, spastic and passionate as me." - Max Bemis
Sunday 20 November 2011
Wednesday 19 October 2011
Never join the army.
It's difficult to concentrate when you have a chorus of white noise surrounding you but i'm going to have to try in a vain attempt to keep my sanity. After yet another unnecessarily exhausting day i am attempting to float away on the forth and gather myself some real sleep. As the natural course of my monotonous life dictates, it is 1.39am on a wednesday night so as per usual i will be thinking about either sex or death. I am currently watching 'Full Metal Jacket' which makes it virtually impossible for me to think about sex right now (at least in any way i'd actually want to) so instead i am whimsically pondering death.
The other day i was looking through one of my old year-eight note books. You know the kind; My Chemical Romance lyrics shrouding the thing, the odd poorly drawn mess and the name of whichever boy had slightly interested me on that particular day written next to a comically large '4EVER'. The reason i bring this to your attention loyal subjects is because i'd forgotten just how eerily obsessed i used to be with death. When we were younger we didn't really understand the concept of death, which is logical as we didn't really understand the concept of life either. It's hard to accept the hypothesis that 'life is precious' when you are young - mostly due to the fact that anyone who tells you that it is, doesn't appear to be having an exceptionally good time anymore and are probably closer to death then you could ever dream of being. That is the thing isn't it my children, we are so absorbed in living that we can not fathom death. Have you ever just sat down with a cuppa and thought about death? I can see a few hands up; i strongly advise you to seek help. If you haven't; i strongly advise you not to. As a general activity contemplating your eventual and possibly untimely demise isn't much of a mood elevator.
I personally have many theories on what happens in the after life, most of them are very badly formed and based on the jumped-up ramblings of an assortment of junkies and rock stars. But they all basically go like this:
1. You die.
2. Shit happens.
If you'd like a more detailed account then i suppose you can say i'm following a kind of fucked up hybrid version of the norse and the hindu religion. I believe that there are separate levels (or realms) in the spiritual world beyond our physical world. In Norse religion they believe there are three levels; one for warriors, one for average do-gooders, and one for sinners. My views concorde with these but i believe we each establish our own level based on the lives we lead. This is where the Hindu religion comes into in that i believe we collect a certain type of energy through-out our lives (the matter auras are made of). When we die we release this energy and it will take us to where we will be most content through reincarnation. I also have a second and much more looming theory that absolutely fuck all happens when you die and you're just dead. But we don't talk about that.
There's also the lovely little question of just exactly how you will exit through the emblematic and not entirely relevant giftshop. I believe that ectoplasmic projections sometimes seep into our dreams to warn us of things to come and the result of this is reacquiring dreams. I have a very frequent dream in which my dad is driving me off a cliff - this is not a good sign. In all honesty i will be perfectly satisfied with death as long as i don't die in some horrifically embarrassing, painfully avoidable or comically stupid situation. If there is an afterlife i don't want to have that 'morning-after' sense of regret for the rest of eternity. I often find myself making discussions based on how much i will be kicking myself later. Generally as a rule i will do something entirely to avoid regretting not on my death bed. Regret is such a touchy subject which i will be fondling profusely next time.
But for right now fellow sinners i must craw over to Megan and go to bed as it is 2am and all i can think about is how i don't want to die wishing i'd had anal sex. Full Metal Jacket just finished and now i am free to let my obscene mind wonder. Well done me.
'We are put on this Earth to fuck around, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.' - Kurt Vonnegut.
The other day i was looking through one of my old year-eight note books. You know the kind; My Chemical Romance lyrics shrouding the thing, the odd poorly drawn mess and the name of whichever boy had slightly interested me on that particular day written next to a comically large '4EVER'. The reason i bring this to your attention loyal subjects is because i'd forgotten just how eerily obsessed i used to be with death. When we were younger we didn't really understand the concept of death, which is logical as we didn't really understand the concept of life either. It's hard to accept the hypothesis that 'life is precious' when you are young - mostly due to the fact that anyone who tells you that it is, doesn't appear to be having an exceptionally good time anymore and are probably closer to death then you could ever dream of being. That is the thing isn't it my children, we are so absorbed in living that we can not fathom death. Have you ever just sat down with a cuppa and thought about death? I can see a few hands up; i strongly advise you to seek help. If you haven't; i strongly advise you not to. As a general activity contemplating your eventual and possibly untimely demise isn't much of a mood elevator.
I personally have many theories on what happens in the after life, most of them are very badly formed and based on the jumped-up ramblings of an assortment of junkies and rock stars. But they all basically go like this:
1. You die.
2. Shit happens.
If you'd like a more detailed account then i suppose you can say i'm following a kind of fucked up hybrid version of the norse and the hindu religion. I believe that there are separate levels (or realms) in the spiritual world beyond our physical world. In Norse religion they believe there are three levels; one for warriors, one for average do-gooders, and one for sinners. My views concorde with these but i believe we each establish our own level based on the lives we lead. This is where the Hindu religion comes into in that i believe we collect a certain type of energy through-out our lives (the matter auras are made of). When we die we release this energy and it will take us to where we will be most content through reincarnation. I also have a second and much more looming theory that absolutely fuck all happens when you die and you're just dead. But we don't talk about that.
There's also the lovely little question of just exactly how you will exit through the emblematic and not entirely relevant giftshop. I believe that ectoplasmic projections sometimes seep into our dreams to warn us of things to come and the result of this is reacquiring dreams. I have a very frequent dream in which my dad is driving me off a cliff - this is not a good sign. In all honesty i will be perfectly satisfied with death as long as i don't die in some horrifically embarrassing, painfully avoidable or comically stupid situation. If there is an afterlife i don't want to have that 'morning-after' sense of regret for the rest of eternity. I often find myself making discussions based on how much i will be kicking myself later. Generally as a rule i will do something entirely to avoid regretting not on my death bed. Regret is such a touchy subject which i will be fondling profusely next time.
But for right now fellow sinners i must craw over to Megan and go to bed as it is 2am and all i can think about is how i don't want to die wishing i'd had anal sex. Full Metal Jacket just finished and now i am free to let my obscene mind wonder. Well done me.
'We are put on this Earth to fuck around, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.' - Kurt Vonnegut.
Sunday 16 October 2011
Never avoid the valley
Why hello internet. Hasn't it been a while? Just in case you weren't sure i can assure you that it has, i would like to tell you that i am back. 100% me, i am no longer an exhausted shell of a woman I've been since bestival. I have healed, cleaned my life up. I no longer have the urge to massacre whole villages, and i am back. nanananananananana. I hope you've all been doing better than i have. i hope you're all on top of your college work, i hope you've all got a life plan going and you're not wasting your time chasing skirt. Not that i am...
Today i would like to talk about skin. Not the organ, or the things we wrap tobacco in, i mean the metaphorical thing we live in. Like our gender, our race, our appearance. I read an article today about a man who attempted to reassign his own sex by hacking away his penis with a Stanley knife and it got me thinking about acceptance. This man was willing to risk his life so he didn't have to keep living it as himself. Is this something we all struggle with? Is it a chemical imbalance? Or is it just an emotional thing? People say you can be born in the wrong skin, but why is this? The NHS now offer breast augmentations for people who are 'desperately' unhappy with their size, who's to say this wont lead to all kinds of unnecessary surgeries done on the basis of vain fancy? If i walked into a hospital now and said that i was supposed to be born a shoe, would they send me to a psychiatric facility, or would they put me under the knife and start attaching laces to me? Don't get me wrong, i'm not against reassignment or plastic surgery, i just think we should have a better system in order to differentiate between people with a real pathological need to be different and those who simply need a little help with self-acceptance. Obviously I, like the majority of the people, would be totally down with many procedures, a new nose, new boobs, wings? But i think that if these things were available to everyone we'd lose all sense of individuality and end up looking like this http://beyondbeautifulbabe.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/ugly-barbie2.jpg
and who'd wanna shag that aye?
I'd also like to bring up that trust thing i keep harping on about. It's a dodgy little subject that one. We can throw it around however we wish, some don't trust anyone, some trust too easily and some like me pick and choose using a very complicated screening process and those people like me, are wrong. You can not trust anyone in this day and age. Some wise man once said 'drunken minds speak sober hearts'. That man was both entirely deluded and incomprehensibly accurate. Sometimes when we've been poisoning ourselves with alcohol we say things we don't mean, we say things that we shouldn't, and whenever this happens we always, always, regret it. I hate that i talk when I've been drinking but it's impossible not to, alcohol dissolves our social filter and everything merges in to one horrible blob of awkward secrets, embarrassing facts and painful memories. But this does not give someone the right to pass on the information, if anything it should do the opposite. If someone confides in you while they've been drinking please do not take this to mean what they are saying means nothing, it really means the opposite- it means everything. It is something they can only say while not entirely knowing they're saying it: so guard this information with your life. Or you may find you're risking someone else's.
The next thing i'd like to bring up is something a lot lighter than usual: i'd like to talk about the avengers. I am super totally excited about the new film that is supposed to grace out silver screens some time around next summer, but there was something i noticed today that horrified me. As a ravenous graphic novel fan (anime and manga included) i like my films to be spot on with accuracy, and although they rarely are it's nice when the Hollywood big shots make an effort. So i was absolutely disgusted to find out that they'd cast the guy who played the human torch in the fantastic four, as captain america. what? WHAT? how is that supposed to work, he can't be both? This isn't the parent trap? Get it together marvel. I know this isn't exactly top news but it just really bothered me. I know Chris Evans is beautiful and has a perfectly manly chin, but that doesn't mean he can defy the laws of physics. Is it really that difficult to hire two actors? This has totally destroyed the point of the film, all the heroes in the same time period inexplicably and fighting the same cause. Now i don't even know what they'll do, and no amount of Samuel L. Jackson can fix this.
I had that feeling again today. The vast emptiness, mixed in with the sensation of being totally complete. This always tends to happen with a realization of beauty. Today for example, i was sitting on the bridge next to my train station, the sun was about to set and the whole sky was a blood colored haze. I had a coffee and a cigarette and i realized how brilliant everything was when we let it be. Then i got thinking, and came to a very weird conclusion. We are taught throughout our lives that the ends of things are beautiful, the end of a day, the end of life, the end of a rainbow. We are also taught that the beginnings of things are, the beginning of a day, the beginning of a relationship, the beginning of time. This may not seem so unfathomable to you, but the thing that mystifies me is the fact that we never celebrate the middle. No one ever says 'oh i saw the most amazing midday yesterday' or 'there's a light inside the tunnel.' but friends, we should. The middle is worth singing about. The middle is the best bit. The middle of an oreo, the middle of nowhere, the place where Malcolm is. I don't see why we are so eager to skip past the middle, that's where we should be most comfortable. That's the point in which we are past the rocky start and we have everything to look forward to. Where we can take a step back and observe, this is the calm between storms, this is the moment between the rock and the hard place. This is what we live for. Those not busy being born aren't busy dying, they're living. And so are we.
And in that spirit i'd like to bid you ado, i can only stand so much of my own inner monologue. And it is the middle of the night - which in my opinion, is the best part.
Sunday 2 October 2011
Never sweat the distance.
It's so easy to overlook things, to underestimate things. I don't really think we ever anticipate the magnitude of situations until it's too late. People can be so pathetically short sighted. Especially when it comes to the feelings of others. For examples, going years without realizing someone has romantic feelings for you, or telling white lies and waiting for the truth to come out, or agreeing to move to Chichester for your mum without even considering the long term effects. Thanks mum, for completely and utterly fucking me over. Have you ever been so tired you fall asleep in class? Have you ever been so tired you don't know where your dreams end and reality begins? Have you ever been so tired you're afraid to sleep in case you never wake up? I am exhausted. All. The. Time. No matter what time i go to bed, i always wake up feeling as if i've been awake for years. I can't remember what it's like to get into bed and fall asleep. All i know now is the sliding hand of the clock, or the s l o w ebbing sands in the timer waiting for the approaching unconsciousness. But i'll be damned if i even get 2 hours of sleep these days. And my teachers wonder why i fall asleep, why i'm late, why my deadlines aren't met. And my mum wonders why i'm not eating, why i'm never home, why i am so damn mad. Take a look mum, this is what we're living for now. I hope you can see it in my eyes, the blame, i am going to fuck my life up. And there's nothing i can do to stop it, because i am too tired to try. I feel unconnected as if i'm not real, my life in brighton is one half of a life, and my life here is the other half but there is no way to make them meet so i'm just stuck in a kind of limbo between them. I don't care if i go upwards or down, heaven or hell. I just want to move on. I just want to get some sleep.
Monday 26 September 2011
Never stare at the tracks for too long.
And so once again i am drawn to this pile of shit, this waste of megabytes, this proverbial tumor in the thriving life of my hard drive. God knows why i keep returning to this site, it's like a part of me knows that forever remaining remote eventually causes one to develop the mannerisms of a free-roaming meth addict and no one needs another one of those around really. So i have learnt to healthily manage the psychotic part of my brain and stay relatively alexithymiatic.
I've been in one of those week long mood-swing moods where everything makes you want to hysterically laugh and cry simultaneously and yet you appear more or less emotionless. The lack of sleep mixed in with the over exposure to sugar and 'happy meds' has made me somewhat of a train wreck. I am constantly torn between the desire to kill myself and everybody else. Luckily these impulses are just milli-seconds long and i'm told they are normal parts of any teenagers daily routine. Needless to say another very prominante problem with the heightened moods and the racing heart beat it i am finding it impossible to concentrate on anything for longer than thirty seconds at the moment. While it is nice to have the wondering eye of a russian businessman it often gets me into a lot of trouble mainly due to the fact i am never listening to anything anyone says which leaves me in a situation where everything has to be repeated, at least four times. Another beautiful little foible in my world as of late is my disability to sleep. The less i sleep, the more sugar i need, the more sugar i consume the more agitated i become and so on. Last night i had at least a 20 minute conversation with my brother when he came into my room to get something, when i woke it was only to discover that he never actually did and i should really stop taking my Eszopiclone altogether. That is something i am really afraid of; my own mind. The lack of sleep is affecting everything i do, i am seeing things and thinking things that terrify me for the main reason that they are not my usual thoughts/visions. Everything inside my head has become a orgy of horror, enough to frighten anyone and i have no idea how to make it stop. I have no free time to catch up on my sleep and i feel as if i am very very slowly drowning, the water is in my lungs now, i wish it would leave.
I have a topic to touch on today. Fear. Fear is something i have never really understood. I have never been sure whether fear is the feeling which drives us into action, or that which prevents us from taking it. People are constantly dealing with danger, every day we walk around on this rotating death trap we call earth, but what turns a danger into a fear, or better yet - a fear into a phobia. I very recently met someone who can not actually name a single fear they have, they are a completely level-headed person and of course is aware of the world, but when i asked her what her fears were she simply said ' i have none'. I think it's brilliant not to have anything to fear but i also think it is ignorant. The world is a scary place, and speaking as someone who is frequently spooked by her own reflection recently i can easily say the fear is justified. But how does one differentiate between the fear that warns us of the dangers ahead and the fear that guides us into it with caution. I don't think i'll ever know, and so i'll just choose to dive in head first, with no scuba kit. Because each great adventure starts with a step.
I've been in one of those week long mood-swing moods where everything makes you want to hysterically laugh and cry simultaneously and yet you appear more or less emotionless. The lack of sleep mixed in with the over exposure to sugar and 'happy meds' has made me somewhat of a train wreck. I am constantly torn between the desire to kill myself and everybody else. Luckily these impulses are just milli-seconds long and i'm told they are normal parts of any teenagers daily routine. Needless to say another very prominante problem with the heightened moods and the racing heart beat it i am finding it impossible to concentrate on anything for longer than thirty seconds at the moment. While it is nice to have the wondering eye of a russian businessman it often gets me into a lot of trouble mainly due to the fact i am never listening to anything anyone says which leaves me in a situation where everything has to be repeated, at least four times. Another beautiful little foible in my world as of late is my disability to sleep. The less i sleep, the more sugar i need, the more sugar i consume the more agitated i become and so on. Last night i had at least a 20 minute conversation with my brother when he came into my room to get something, when i woke it was only to discover that he never actually did and i should really stop taking my Eszopiclone altogether. That is something i am really afraid of; my own mind. The lack of sleep is affecting everything i do, i am seeing things and thinking things that terrify me for the main reason that they are not my usual thoughts/visions. Everything inside my head has become a orgy of horror, enough to frighten anyone and i have no idea how to make it stop. I have no free time to catch up on my sleep and i feel as if i am very very slowly drowning, the water is in my lungs now, i wish it would leave.
I have a topic to touch on today. Fear. Fear is something i have never really understood. I have never been sure whether fear is the feeling which drives us into action, or that which prevents us from taking it. People are constantly dealing with danger, every day we walk around on this rotating death trap we call earth, but what turns a danger into a fear, or better yet - a fear into a phobia. I very recently met someone who can not actually name a single fear they have, they are a completely level-headed person and of course is aware of the world, but when i asked her what her fears were she simply said ' i have none'. I think it's brilliant not to have anything to fear but i also think it is ignorant. The world is a scary place, and speaking as someone who is frequently spooked by her own reflection recently i can easily say the fear is justified. But how does one differentiate between the fear that warns us of the dangers ahead and the fear that guides us into it with caution. I don't think i'll ever know, and so i'll just choose to dive in head first, with no scuba kit. Because each great adventure starts with a step.
Tuesday 20 September 2011
Never settle in the country.
I want to be in Russia. It's a very strange and equally unimportant thought but i felt i should break my usual generic blogging habits and start with a statement. I just want to be in Russia. I want my breath to rise is an almost opaque haze, i want to endlessly gaze at the mounds of snow and never have to worry when they'll melt, i want to eat pelimi with my koyla's in the town square and i want to be able to drink vodka and smoke freely with no judgement. However i am in england. England - where the weather doesn't know what to be, and neither do the people. I would be slightly less bitter, but the cardboard box i'm sitting on is causing me discomfort. After much deliberation i have finally arrived in Earnley. If you haven't got the foggiest where that is please do not feel uneducated, it's not even on google maps. To my great disappointment i am not actually disappointed in my new pad/crib/digs/abode/dwelling ect. In fact i've grown rather fond of the place, if you ignore the fleets of spiders and creepy corridors.
Don't get me wrong, i have a lot to complain about. I just thought i'd start with a positive. I don't know if it's all the clear energy produced by the hundreds of pensioners accepting death or the fact i have a graveyard in my back yard, but things seem pretty deep recently. I no longer care about things, little things i mean, i guess i just always thought that i had to have control over everything. This recent slight (major) change to 'the plan' has showed me just how little we can control, and i am fine with it. Silver linings, and icing on cakes or something equally as fluffy. I think it's all just a manifestation of the fact that i just can't be fucked any more. For example, today, instead of getting the train when i was supposed to i went to macdonalds and had a lovely three hour catch up with a friend and ended up being so late i'd missed the last bus. My nan turned up half an hour later in a horrific mood. I told her to 'chill the fuck out man' so she left me on the side of my road. 6 miles from my house. 3 Marlboro reds and 2 blisters later i rounded the corner and ended up in a church yard. I sat alongside the graves just thinking for at least an hour before i realized i was behind my house. I have come to realize that if you let things be, they'll be what you want them to. Even if it looks a little different.
I have also noticed that about people lately. Sometimes, as human beings, we judge others. Shocking i know but it is a very common ailment, i frequently find myself doing it. I find that sometimes people disassociate themselves with others simply because of hearsay. I have done it in the past. But sometimes the people you least expect are the ones you connect with the most. Even if you never admit it to others at least accept it yourself, because finding someone who gets you is very rare. Especially if you're as warped and impossible as me. My advice? Do anything you can to keep them. And steal a few hairs while you're at it, just in case i perfect the cloning process.
I have to get up in four hours. The things i do for you people. Who am i kidding, no one reads this thing. I am going to play dead island, not for any quirky reason. I am going to go play it because i have built up a murderous desire with all this 'spiritual harmony' bullshit i've been spewing and need to take it out on the reborn corpses of australian tourists. I feel a Charles Wittman episode coming on.
Don't get me wrong, i have a lot to complain about. I just thought i'd start with a positive. I don't know if it's all the clear energy produced by the hundreds of pensioners accepting death or the fact i have a graveyard in my back yard, but things seem pretty deep recently. I no longer care about things, little things i mean, i guess i just always thought that i had to have control over everything. This recent slight (major) change to 'the plan' has showed me just how little we can control, and i am fine with it. Silver linings, and icing on cakes or something equally as fluffy. I think it's all just a manifestation of the fact that i just can't be fucked any more. For example, today, instead of getting the train when i was supposed to i went to macdonalds and had a lovely three hour catch up with a friend and ended up being so late i'd missed the last bus. My nan turned up half an hour later in a horrific mood. I told her to 'chill the fuck out man' so she left me on the side of my road. 6 miles from my house. 3 Marlboro reds and 2 blisters later i rounded the corner and ended up in a church yard. I sat alongside the graves just thinking for at least an hour before i realized i was behind my house. I have come to realize that if you let things be, they'll be what you want them to. Even if it looks a little different.
I have also noticed that about people lately. Sometimes, as human beings, we judge others. Shocking i know but it is a very common ailment, i frequently find myself doing it. I find that sometimes people disassociate themselves with others simply because of hearsay. I have done it in the past. But sometimes the people you least expect are the ones you connect with the most. Even if you never admit it to others at least accept it yourself, because finding someone who gets you is very rare. Especially if you're as warped and impossible as me. My advice? Do anything you can to keep them. And steal a few hairs while you're at it, just in case i perfect the cloning process.
I have to get up in four hours. The things i do for you people. Who am i kidding, no one reads this thing. I am going to play dead island, not for any quirky reason. I am going to go play it because i have built up a murderous desire with all this 'spiritual harmony' bullshit i've been spewing and need to take it out on the reborn corpses of australian tourists. I feel a Charles Wittman episode coming on.
Monday 5 September 2011
Never let a stranger into your home, no matter how official they look.
Well internet. I am currently residing/ hiding in my bath with my laptop because there is a man wandering around my house with a clipboard. I am assuming because he said he had an appointment that he actually is supposed to be here but really in this day and age who knows. Maybe he feeds his libido by pretending to belong to a moving company and surveying people's homes. Or maybe he simply was walking down my road and got a little bored. For whatever reason he's here, he is still here. So to avoid awkward conversation i have barricaded myself in the bath with my duvet and have mentally prepared myself to be here all night.
Firstly, i would like to start by apologizing for my last blog entry. I know some of you genuinely thought your lives were in danger and i would like to apologize for that, however justified the feeling was. I have somewhat calmed down since then, and although i have not yet reached that happy place where the palm trees are all bountiful with foliage ect, i can almost honestly say 'i am half way there'. So i am finding myself succumbing to my over-bearing parent's wishes and attending a nice catholic college. Worry not children, on my way home today i purchased a nice 4feet of rope and will be hanging myself very shortly with it. If that fails however i will be on a train bright and early tomorrow and heading off to my first day. I like to think i will be able to survive another two years with the good lord by my side but so far he's been a bit of an inattentive leader. In fact i would go as far as to say he's been down right atrocious. I mean, i am in this situation right? If growing up with two very god-fearing parents has taught me anything it is how to blame dear old Allah for all the problems in your life. And on that note i would like to very pretentiously say: Deus dereliquit mei.
The problems all lie in growing up. As a child the worst fears we have are the monsters in our closets but as we grow older we realize that it isn't the ghosts in our houses that we have to deal with, it's the ones in our pasts. I long for the days when a mutual love of playdoh was enough to build a friendship on. Nowadays one wrong hobby, one borderline racist comment and a relationship can be tarnished for life. Why don't i just carve all my flaws into my skin and leave the scars there for the entire world to see? That solution at least would eliminate small talk altogether. In fact no talk would be necessary, potential members of my life would know right away that i am not a force to be associated with.I am sure that if we were to introduce ourselves by the characteristics people perceive us to have no one would ever interact.
'Hi, i am competitive, pessimistic and narcissistic. And you are?'
However it is not as easy as defining ourselves how others see us, for example, i give little thought to how the general public see me so i am very shocked when i am outright challenged on a trait of my personality. People say that your best critic is yourself, but i believe that to be false. How can i accurately judge myself when i am completely biased to believing everything i do to be worthless? I do nevertheless know myself well enough to know most of my weaknesses, and strengths. I know that i am a very sociable being and one thing i can not stand is impolite behavior between strangers. So with that i will leave you all to miss me and go and make this questionably enticing man some tea.
I would just like to point out that the man was my dad's lawyer and no, 'he wasn't meant to fucking be here lucy.'
Firstly, i would like to start by apologizing for my last blog entry. I know some of you genuinely thought your lives were in danger and i would like to apologize for that, however justified the feeling was. I have somewhat calmed down since then, and although i have not yet reached that happy place where the palm trees are all bountiful with foliage ect, i can almost honestly say 'i am half way there'. So i am finding myself succumbing to my over-bearing parent's wishes and attending a nice catholic college. Worry not children, on my way home today i purchased a nice 4feet of rope and will be hanging myself very shortly with it. If that fails however i will be on a train bright and early tomorrow and heading off to my first day. I like to think i will be able to survive another two years with the good lord by my side but so far he's been a bit of an inattentive leader. In fact i would go as far as to say he's been down right atrocious. I mean, i am in this situation right? If growing up with two very god-fearing parents has taught me anything it is how to blame dear old Allah for all the problems in your life. And on that note i would like to very pretentiously say: Deus dereliquit mei.
The problems all lie in growing up. As a child the worst fears we have are the monsters in our closets but as we grow older we realize that it isn't the ghosts in our houses that we have to deal with, it's the ones in our pasts. I long for the days when a mutual love of playdoh was enough to build a friendship on. Nowadays one wrong hobby, one borderline racist comment and a relationship can be tarnished for life. Why don't i just carve all my flaws into my skin and leave the scars there for the entire world to see? That solution at least would eliminate small talk altogether. In fact no talk would be necessary, potential members of my life would know right away that i am not a force to be associated with.I am sure that if we were to introduce ourselves by the characteristics people perceive us to have no one would ever interact.
'Hi, i am competitive, pessimistic and narcissistic. And you are?'
However it is not as easy as defining ourselves how others see us, for example, i give little thought to how the general public see me so i am very shocked when i am outright challenged on a trait of my personality. People say that your best critic is yourself, but i believe that to be false. How can i accurately judge myself when i am completely biased to believing everything i do to be worthless? I do nevertheless know myself well enough to know most of my weaknesses, and strengths. I know that i am a very sociable being and one thing i can not stand is impolite behavior between strangers. So with that i will leave you all to miss me and go and make this questionably enticing man some tea.
I would just like to point out that the man was my dad's lawyer and no, 'he wasn't meant to fucking be here lucy.'
Wednesday 31 August 2011
Never dream.
So all my procrastination and distraction has caused me to completely destroy any and all hopes i had of a real future. My A level options now consist of subjects so mother fucking soft that no self respecting human would dare even choose them because even the dregs of society know that they couldn't be respected studies even in the heart of the red light district. I am slowly setting myself up for a career as a very bad porn star, you know, the kind that gets choked the shit out of before even appearing in the film, the kind who's drugged, the kind who unwillingly gets snuffed half way through the fucking feature. Basically i just spent the last half an hour on the phone to someone who got all their A-levels, who now has a half decent career at a college that fuck-ups like me hope to attend. The whole time he just rambled on in his 'i've never got laid' tone, telling me how it's all been a waste of my damn time, well i don't need him to tell me that does he not realize that i've already realized that? Well he can shove it down his fucking esophagus. Yeah i hide behind my words and i claim i don't give a fuck about this blog and i only do this when i'm bored. But the truth is the only other way i could get these words out my mind is if i splattered them all over some fucking cement. You may think i've gone off the rails a bit, or i've completely lost it. But i know where my self-control is, i just am choosing not to find it.
I'm not mad, i'm just not happy, i can not be expected to be the fucking easter bunny right now. I would just like to know why wanting something is never enough and why it hurts so much to let yourself down. I am a paradox, and not in the tyler the creator way, in the 'i have no logical solution' way. It's like i blinked and suddenly my foundations have dissolved underneath me and my whole life plan can suddenly fit into a council flat in south london. Who knows, maybe i'll fall in love with a doctor, and watch him shape his life the way i would have. And i'll build up a jealous hate until eventually i slash through his jugular with his own scalpel. People say you can never pin point the exact moment your life took a turn but i know mine was walking into that exam with the remnants of writing on my fore arm. Or maybe it was the moment i was cut out my mothers stomach and the good lord took a fucking shit on my forehead. If any of you cunts even think the word 'surgeon' around me i think you'll find yourself with a 3" shard of glass sticking out of your heart. Because that's how i feel right now, then only a surgeon can save you. I'm sure this whole rant will lead ya'll to believe i am mentally unstable. And so what if i am? It doesn't even matter now.
I'm not mad, i'm just not happy, i can not be expected to be the fucking easter bunny right now. I would just like to know why wanting something is never enough and why it hurts so much to let yourself down. I am a paradox, and not in the tyler the creator way, in the 'i have no logical solution' way. It's like i blinked and suddenly my foundations have dissolved underneath me and my whole life plan can suddenly fit into a council flat in south london. Who knows, maybe i'll fall in love with a doctor, and watch him shape his life the way i would have. And i'll build up a jealous hate until eventually i slash through his jugular with his own scalpel. People say you can never pin point the exact moment your life took a turn but i know mine was walking into that exam with the remnants of writing on my fore arm. Or maybe it was the moment i was cut out my mothers stomach and the good lord took a fucking shit on my forehead. If any of you cunts even think the word 'surgeon' around me i think you'll find yourself with a 3" shard of glass sticking out of your heart. Because that's how i feel right now, then only a surgeon can save you. I'm sure this whole rant will lead ya'll to believe i am mentally unstable. And so what if i am? It doesn't even matter now.
Sunday 7 August 2011
Never drink anything that looks like chemicals, and tastes like cough syrup.
So sex deprived members of the Internet. I am writing to you from the somewhat cramped bed of a very nice young woman. As much as i would normally love to permit your minds to wander to the realms of underpants and pillow fights i thought i'd save the time and let you know she is in fact passed out, and a good friend. The reason i write to you from such a strange - and for many of you, unreachable - place is because i am stuck. I want to be asleep, i am drunk and tired enough to be asleep, but my body simply will not allow it. So instead i thought i could take the time to scrape together a slightly short and immensely overdue blog. The first thing i'd like to talk about is; limits.
Last night as i was crashing out i put on a film entitled: limitless. The film is a very erratic tale of a man who discovers a drug that allows you to access 100% of your brain as apposed to the rumored 20% the average human can access. The film is depicted from Eddie Morra's (played by Bradley Cooper) point of view. The further Eddie gets into the world of the elite he has now become, the darker things become. There are two main problems i have with this film is 1. Bradley Cooper is not naked enough 2. There isn't enough of a moral message. In the film anyone on the drug can achieve unfathomable things, but the second they run out of the drug their body begins to deteriorate rapidly. As soon as Eddie discovers a way to mass-produce the drug everything is fine, he carries on living completely dependent on something that could easily destroy him. I just think it completely glamourizes drugs in a way that hasn't really been seen on film. But i digress, my main point is that the film implies that with this drug life's possibilities are limitless. In reality, life is entirely built up of limits. For example your alcohol intake. There is a definite limit to how many units a single person can consume and yet weekend after weekend i find myself surrounded by people who do not know when to say when.
By perfect coincidence it seems that your alcohol limits can show what kind of moral limitations a person has. In the wise words of Jamie Foxx people tend to 'blame it on the a a a a a alcohol'. And this averts the subject to: morality, and blame. I have to admit that people do tend to do stupid and morally incorrect things while under the influence, but i do not think that the alcohol is the only cause of such problems. Personally i believe that alcohol amplifies every inhibition you have, and releases them. * If you are incapable of doing something, due to some unknown ethical obligation, then the consumption of drugs will not sway your mind, you will maybe feel as if you had no control but the disturbing underlying fact is, we always do. To be perfectly honest people are capable of doing horrible, horrible things. The evidence is hitting home right this minute with the London riots. But please, don't think that doing bad things makes someone a bad person, some of us just don't know how to stop.
I would like to apologize for the state of today's blog, up until the '*' i was absolutely wankered and it was 5 in the morning. I am just so amazed at the fluency of my drunken mind that i am leaving it as it is. I will update you on my mundane life somewhere towards the end of the week or maybe the beginning of next. Try not to miss me too much until then. Before signing off i'd just like to stress that my thoughts are with those effected by the london riots, two wrongs don't make a right and teenagers shouldn't be allowed to buy bats.
Last night as i was crashing out i put on a film entitled: limitless. The film is a very erratic tale of a man who discovers a drug that allows you to access 100% of your brain as apposed to the rumored 20% the average human can access. The film is depicted from Eddie Morra's (played by Bradley Cooper) point of view. The further Eddie gets into the world of the elite he has now become, the darker things become. There are two main problems i have with this film is 1. Bradley Cooper is not naked enough 2. There isn't enough of a moral message. In the film anyone on the drug can achieve unfathomable things, but the second they run out of the drug their body begins to deteriorate rapidly. As soon as Eddie discovers a way to mass-produce the drug everything is fine, he carries on living completely dependent on something that could easily destroy him. I just think it completely glamourizes drugs in a way that hasn't really been seen on film. But i digress, my main point is that the film implies that with this drug life's possibilities are limitless. In reality, life is entirely built up of limits. For example your alcohol intake. There is a definite limit to how many units a single person can consume and yet weekend after weekend i find myself surrounded by people who do not know when to say when.
By perfect coincidence it seems that your alcohol limits can show what kind of moral limitations a person has. In the wise words of Jamie Foxx people tend to 'blame it on the a a a a a alcohol'. And this averts the subject to: morality, and blame. I have to admit that people do tend to do stupid and morally incorrect things while under the influence, but i do not think that the alcohol is the only cause of such problems. Personally i believe that alcohol amplifies every inhibition you have, and releases them. * If you are incapable of doing something, due to some unknown ethical obligation, then the consumption of drugs will not sway your mind, you will maybe feel as if you had no control but the disturbing underlying fact is, we always do. To be perfectly honest people are capable of doing horrible, horrible things. The evidence is hitting home right this minute with the London riots. But please, don't think that doing bad things makes someone a bad person, some of us just don't know how to stop.
I would like to apologize for the state of today's blog, up until the '*' i was absolutely wankered and it was 5 in the morning. I am just so amazed at the fluency of my drunken mind that i am leaving it as it is. I will update you on my mundane life somewhere towards the end of the week or maybe the beginning of next. Try not to miss me too much until then. Before signing off i'd just like to stress that my thoughts are with those effected by the london riots, two wrongs don't make a right and teenagers shouldn't be allowed to buy bats.
Tuesday 5 July 2011
Never hit a kid while he's down.
So this being my final academic week before exams I would just love to let you all know that my revision is going swimmingly. But then of course I would be lying. I have in fact spent my afternoon having an intense pillow fight and seeing just how far you have to go into YouTube to find a decent female hip-hop artist. But I digress, it's not my search for women's answer to Tyler the creator I am worried about, it is my sheer lack of intellectual drive. It’s not that I don't want to learn... it's just whenever I start to read anything relevant it's like trying to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphics, I just can't make sense of it. So then my brain goes:
Egyptian hieroglyphics - Egyptian hip-hop - OFWGKTW
And the search began. Another point is that I am just too darn excited about my last day. I am wishing away the days of this week, days that are seriously needed for revision. I don't really care, a homeless man told me my booty rivals j-lo so I personally think I'm set?
I haven't had a rant in a while so I thought I'd start with cosmetic surgery. Now in a lesson this week a very good friend of mine started up a conversation about boob jobs. Well she was saying that she would actually quite like to have one, and by the end of the lesson she had every girl on our table wanting one too. A boy sitting with us found it repulsive that we even thought we needed one, but how could be not? The media in this era is riddled with the perfect ideal of how a woman should look. Now as a person who appreciates womanly form (from an artistic perspective only, thankyou.) I understand why that body type is attractive, and I see how it is nowhere near realistic. I don't mean to be prejudice toward the stereotypically perfect person, and if you are reading this I apologise, I just don't think said person exists. People are beautiful how they are and shouldn't resort to any kind of medical procedure to "better" themselves, and I think that its appalling that they can so easily. That a sixteen year old girl - who I would like to point out is a stunnah - can know so much about the steps involved to undergo cosmetic surgery, well quite frankly it sickens me. I this plastic surgery is an amazing advance in medicine for help with burns, scars, disfigurements etc. but I do not think it should be available for reasons like this. Just sayin'. I appear to have gone a bit over the top but I know you love it so it's all good.
My authority issues got the better of me this week, provoking many an argument and that brings us to; conceited people. Otherwise known as those people with massive metal rods up their anal passageways. I just can't stand those people who they are better than EVERYONE else, especially if they have no valid reason. If I was a master pianist and I thought I was better than a sub-par pianist then that would be justified (although modesty is attractive). But some people think because they are seen as being higher on 'the social ladder' it gives them the right to look down on everyone else. Well it may work in a beautifully metaphorical way lads, but not in real life. In real life you are rude, arrogant, self-centred, conceited, egotistic, gratified, obsequious, self-contented, self-pleased, self-possessed and a cunt. You bully those who you value under yourself when the only reason they are viewed to be there is because they never needed to validate themselves with the glamour you appear to posses. Because they can achieve more than you ever could, on what they have accomplished alone. And that is why in ten years time you will be working for them.
Remember children, bullying isn't nice. And Lucy should not be allowed to blog to music because she gets too angry. Luckily I can always keep a level head; now fuck off you festering turds.
oh and if you do find a female worthy of tupac's left nut. let me know.
.
Egyptian hieroglyphics - Egyptian hip-hop - OFWGKTW
And the search began. Another point is that I am just too darn excited about my last day. I am wishing away the days of this week, days that are seriously needed for revision. I don't really care, a homeless man told me my booty rivals j-lo so I personally think I'm set?
I haven't had a rant in a while so I thought I'd start with cosmetic surgery. Now in a lesson this week a very good friend of mine started up a conversation about boob jobs. Well she was saying that she would actually quite like to have one, and by the end of the lesson she had every girl on our table wanting one too. A boy sitting with us found it repulsive that we even thought we needed one, but how could be not? The media in this era is riddled with the perfect ideal of how a woman should look. Now as a person who appreciates womanly form (from an artistic perspective only, thankyou.) I understand why that body type is attractive, and I see how it is nowhere near realistic. I don't mean to be prejudice toward the stereotypically perfect person, and if you are reading this I apologise, I just don't think said person exists. People are beautiful how they are and shouldn't resort to any kind of medical procedure to "better" themselves, and I think that its appalling that they can so easily. That a sixteen year old girl - who I would like to point out is a stunnah - can know so much about the steps involved to undergo cosmetic surgery, well quite frankly it sickens me. I this plastic surgery is an amazing advance in medicine for help with burns, scars, disfigurements etc. but I do not think it should be available for reasons like this. Just sayin'. I appear to have gone a bit over the top but I know you love it so it's all good.
My authority issues got the better of me this week, provoking many an argument and that brings us to; conceited people. Otherwise known as those people with massive metal rods up their anal passageways. I just can't stand those people who they are better than EVERYONE else, especially if they have no valid reason. If I was a master pianist and I thought I was better than a sub-par pianist then that would be justified (although modesty is attractive). But some people think because they are seen as being higher on 'the social ladder' it gives them the right to look down on everyone else. Well it may work in a beautifully metaphorical way lads, but not in real life. In real life you are rude, arrogant, self-centred, conceited, egotistic, gratified, obsequious, self-contented, self-pleased, self-possessed and a cunt. You bully those who you value under yourself when the only reason they are viewed to be there is because they never needed to validate themselves with the glamour you appear to posses. Because they can achieve more than you ever could, on what they have accomplished alone. And that is why in ten years time you will be working for them.
Remember children, bullying isn't nice. And Lucy should not be allowed to blog to music because she gets too angry. Luckily I can always keep a level head; now fuck off you festering turds.
oh and if you do find a female worthy of tupac's left nut. let me know.
.
Never Bullshit a Bullshitter.
Hello children. I could start as i usually do by making awkward and untrue statements about how i've been miles too busy to blog ect. ect. but i won't. You deserve better than that, in fact i shall bestow upon you the entire truth. I just couldn't be fucked. Yes i have been busy, and yes i haven't had much time but that is no excuse, some Gandhi type once said that we make time for the things we truly love so i guess i just don't love blogging. It's not like i don't love all of you, you're stella folk, i just have a life outside of these cyber-realms. To be honest i'd be more worried if my blog was what i live for. I've strayed from the point again. I have finished my exams now, and i am 100% free to do what i like, which brings me to my first point - freedom.
Recently i've been reading a Japanese book entitled 'Stolen' it is the story of a group of people all living in the heart of Tokyo who are all somehow connected to the sex trafficking rink. This book has got me thinking a lot about the ties that bound us, whether we are physical prisoners, emotional prisoners - bound by threats or responsibilities - or whether we just feel like prisoners for no accountable reason. I think we all wait for freedom, the weekend, our holidays, when we leave home, after university, and i think eventually we'll discover that we had freedom all along and just never noticed. That is why i have decided to make the most of my summer, my freedom. There are so many people in the world who have never and will never know what freedom is, and i am truly sorry for them. So don't sleep till noon, don't wish the days away, walk more, skinny dip, just do something you know you shouldn't because you don't know how quickly your youth will fade. And that is my over-baring self-assured and not at all factual opinion for the day.
Another thing that has been much on my mind recently is the Casey Anthony trial. For those of you who haven't heard about this yet it is a case in which Casey, a single mother, has been accused of drugging her two-year-old daughter, suffocating her and then dumping her body in the woods behind her house. Casey is on trial for death row. I personally do not agree with the death penalty, a lot of people from both the US and the UK don't, and yet it is still enforced by law in some cases in America. I think that there are lots of insinuating circumstances surrounding this trial, some people head to drastic, and yes un-called for, solutions when they feel trapped. Let's say there were similar punishments. Like, if you commit manslaughter you lose a limb? Or you rape someone and you're castrated. The idea that the state can take a life for another life taken just seems damn hypocritical to me. I'm not saying that people shouldn't be punished, i'm just saying euthanasia is not the answer. An eye for an eye just makes the whole world blind. And a murder for a murder just makes the justice system a cunt.
The final point i'd like to make is with the issue of trust. People say that i am a difficult person to trust, and i have difficulty trusting others. And they would be entirely right. The point i make to myself is that every time i do put my trust in someone, no matter how long they have been loyal to me, the moment they screw up i no longer care about the years of good and just entirely focus on their folly. I wish i wasn't doomed to be a one-man-wolf pack but the way i'm heading i will have no one to trust but myself, and that's no way to live. The general theme of today's blog has been freedom and i want the freedom to lean on my friends, and the ability to know i am safe to do so. I guess it's just because the first time i trusted someone with everything they left me, and i don't know how to bounce back from that. If you want to be able to trust people you need to know that there may be times where they let you down, you need to be prepared. But you can't just sit by the metaphorical fuck-up phone with the sixth-sense knowledge that it'll ring, you need to learn to trust those you trust. I hope i am not going to become one of those people who anticipates the worst, i want to hope for the best.
I feel like somewhat of a nonce talking about not wasting time and seizing the day as i am currently sat in what could be mistaken as the site of a WW3 bomb attack, or the bat cave. So i will love you and leave you members of the internet. I have a summer to start.
Recently i've been reading a Japanese book entitled 'Stolen' it is the story of a group of people all living in the heart of Tokyo who are all somehow connected to the sex trafficking rink. This book has got me thinking a lot about the ties that bound us, whether we are physical prisoners, emotional prisoners - bound by threats or responsibilities - or whether we just feel like prisoners for no accountable reason. I think we all wait for freedom, the weekend, our holidays, when we leave home, after university, and i think eventually we'll discover that we had freedom all along and just never noticed. That is why i have decided to make the most of my summer, my freedom. There are so many people in the world who have never and will never know what freedom is, and i am truly sorry for them. So don't sleep till noon, don't wish the days away, walk more, skinny dip, just do something you know you shouldn't because you don't know how quickly your youth will fade. And that is my over-baring self-assured and not at all factual opinion for the day.
Another thing that has been much on my mind recently is the Casey Anthony trial. For those of you who haven't heard about this yet it is a case in which Casey, a single mother, has been accused of drugging her two-year-old daughter, suffocating her and then dumping her body in the woods behind her house. Casey is on trial for death row. I personally do not agree with the death penalty, a lot of people from both the US and the UK don't, and yet it is still enforced by law in some cases in America. I think that there are lots of insinuating circumstances surrounding this trial, some people head to drastic, and yes un-called for, solutions when they feel trapped. Let's say there were similar punishments. Like, if you commit manslaughter you lose a limb? Or you rape someone and you're castrated. The idea that the state can take a life for another life taken just seems damn hypocritical to me. I'm not saying that people shouldn't be punished, i'm just saying euthanasia is not the answer. An eye for an eye just makes the whole world blind. And a murder for a murder just makes the justice system a cunt.
The final point i'd like to make is with the issue of trust. People say that i am a difficult person to trust, and i have difficulty trusting others. And they would be entirely right. The point i make to myself is that every time i do put my trust in someone, no matter how long they have been loyal to me, the moment they screw up i no longer care about the years of good and just entirely focus on their folly. I wish i wasn't doomed to be a one-man-wolf pack but the way i'm heading i will have no one to trust but myself, and that's no way to live. The general theme of today's blog has been freedom and i want the freedom to lean on my friends, and the ability to know i am safe to do so. I guess it's just because the first time i trusted someone with everything they left me, and i don't know how to bounce back from that. If you want to be able to trust people you need to know that there may be times where they let you down, you need to be prepared. But you can't just sit by the metaphorical fuck-up phone with the sixth-sense knowledge that it'll ring, you need to learn to trust those you trust. I hope i am not going to become one of those people who anticipates the worst, i want to hope for the best.
I feel like somewhat of a nonce talking about not wasting time and seizing the day as i am currently sat in what could be mistaken as the site of a WW3 bomb attack, or the bat cave. So i will love you and leave you members of the internet. I have a summer to start.
Monday 2 May 2011
Never lose sight of your main point.
Well then. It appears my pact to blog quad-weekly, for lack of a better expression, went to shit. If it's any consolation I am aware that I haven't exactly been the best blogger. I have neglected my blogees. I have many outlets I could blame for my lack of commitment but mostly I just think I’m erratic. If it makes you feel any better I am at least aware of how appalling I am, if I wasn't I wouldn't be apologising. Please continue to irrevocably love me, after all absence makes the heart grow stronger or something equally as cheesy.
One of the reasons i have been lacking in blog space is my insane work load. I have exams coming up which means I am constantly engrossed in furious procrastination. But that is not the only work occupying my time; my painfully dull weekend job is becoming the bane of my life. The point is it hasn’t always been such a royal ache in my femur, I used to actually enjoy selling dead pensioners clothes to pretentious teenagers, but recently I don’t know how or in what way but the dynamics have changed. I have been moved to the ‘bargain basement’. I think it’s a cosmic rule that anyone shopping for bargains in a thrift store has issues. The worse experience I’ve had of late was a rather mousey lady who spent 4 hours trying to choose a belt. That is not a dramatic overstatement, it legitimately was 4 hours. We don’t even have a huge stock of belts; it’s only a little grid display. I think her dilemma was that she wasn’t whether she wanted a sandy or seal colored strap of leather. To be honest I just wanted to grab them all, choke her with them, and then hysterically remind her that ‘THEY ARE BROWN’ but unfortunately I don’t think that’s customer-friendly, or as a matter of fact; legal.
One of the reasons i have been lacking in blog space is my insane work load. I have exams coming up which means I am constantly engrossed in furious procrastination. But that is not the only work occupying my time; my painfully dull weekend job is becoming the bane of my life. The point is it hasn’t always been such a royal ache in my femur, I used to actually enjoy selling dead pensioners clothes to pretentious teenagers, but recently I don’t know how or in what way but the dynamics have changed. I have been moved to the ‘bargain basement’. I think it’s a cosmic rule that anyone shopping for bargains in a thrift store has issues. The worse experience I’ve had of late was a rather mousey lady who spent 4 hours trying to choose a belt. That is not a dramatic overstatement, it legitimately was 4 hours. We don’t even have a huge stock of belts; it’s only a little grid display. I think her dilemma was that she wasn’t whether she wanted a sandy or seal colored strap of leather. To be honest I just wanted to grab them all, choke her with them, and then hysterically remind her that ‘THEY ARE BROWN’ but unfortunately I don’t think that’s customer-friendly, or as a matter of fact; legal.
There are however perks to working in the retail field. I find myself constantly surrounded by cool-on-paper people. I truly love the people I work with and I think they are fan-fucking-tastic but so do people who have never spoken to them. By mere sight civilians know our staff can be trusted to assess what is ‘hip’ or not. Now what I see as ‘cool’ and what popular culture sees as ‘cool’ are two completely different temperature gages. I will see a person as being truly worth my time if they are pure fun – i.e. if they don’t give a rat ass, a flying fuck, or a cookie crumb what people think of them. However, I have found lately that people are believed to be cool if they;
1. Dress like a pensioner.
2. Listen to music that is so awful no one else has ever heard of it.
3. Smoke ‘Golden V’ on flavoured papers – or Marlboro lights.
Now as most people who actually bother reading this thing will know I pretty much slot into all the categories above, thus making me a hypocrite. But I do not mean to appear so self-righteous my dears. I never wanted to become this way, I guess I just love my nan, and Wild Beasts and bubblegum rizzlers. I do not think it is a problem to try and be ‘individual’ so why then do I find it so god-damn unbearable to be labelled ‘indie’? It would be easier to digest this hatred if I didn’t spend 7-14 hours a week enforcing the very ideas I am trying to rebel against. I just think that a style that is so popular shouldn’t be so ridiculed because of its hilariously inaccurate name. From now on the ‘indie’ style is called the ‘banal’ style and each and every one of you is a part of it. Fo real-reals.
In other- slightly more Important news; Osama Bin Laden is dead. Yes, yes congratulations USA I’m very proud of you and your complicated murder schemes. The world wide web has been riddles with jokes, annicdotes and even a limerick or two regarding the Pakistani terrorist’s death and I think it should stop. Not that I haven’t been quietly celebrating myself, but I don’t think people quite realise that just because he is dead it doesn’t mean terrorism as we know it is over. In fact a public celebration of this magnitude will surely provoke other Al Qaeda terrorists into action? With all the hype and hypocrisy over the royal wedding and all the partying and parading in the US over Bin Laden’s death, I personally think it’s only a matter of time before our overbearing society literally; crashes and burns. I am not threatening the safety of either of my home countries I am simply making a plea – stop being so painfully eminent, swallow your pride, and try out a little sombre modesty for once in your self-assured lives. It’s quite simple really, the Chinese have been doing it for decades.
Please do not report me to any formal authorities for terrorism. I assure you I am fair too cold and hung-over to attempt any kind of insentient acts but just in case I’m going to go and burn my ‘Where’s Bin Laden?’ story book, can’t be too frivolous with evidence nowadays can I?
Get one before the CIA do - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Wheres-Bin-Laden-Many-Others/dp/1741103320/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1304363008&sr=8-2
Wednesday 16 March 2011
Never underestimate the elderly.
So I’ve decided since school work is so utterly tedious instead I will throw away my education and take on the competitive world of full time blogging and start the strenuous process of becoming a mole woman. It sounds like a lonely life, but it's a life filled with munch, duvets and comedy central. So I’m content.
You're probably wondering how I can still find topics of conversation to fill up this blog. Well that's the beauty of being a pessimist, everything is wrong. And as you've probably noticed I ruddy well love to complain. If there was a complaining category in 2012 I’d be the new Paula fucking Radcliffe. I can complain about anything, from Apple Macs to the lack of meaningful words that begin with 'Z'. And on that note I’d like to start with; public transport.
So today I took a lovely journey to Shitechester, home of the very very brave. I hopped on a train with my NME and my Diet Coke fully prepared to shove on some Ed Sheeran and have a whale of a time. Then, some mental pensioner decides instead of the many available seats all around he will cram next to me and whip out a picnic. Now if watching an OAP erotically eating a banana didn't make for a soul crushing journey, then the three screaming toddlers who waddled on at one of the many Worthings definitely did. Now after a perfectly agreeable day in my mid-childhood home I get on yet another train full of the hope and optimism I am famous for. Half way in I start to think that maybe there's hope for Southern Rail yet when who should swagger into the seat next to me but, you've guessed it, the don of chav-city. The major of Pikey-ville. The ruler of all that is inbred. If I didn't guess by his attire the following behaviour definitely confirmed it;
Step 1. Lie across many seats in an unnecessary fashion.
Step 2. Choose a high-pitched remix of a trance track and blast it at full volume on your 'Nokia Music Phone'.
Step 3. Chew in an animated fashion and Shout to your friend who is also sprawled across the carriage.
Step 4. Get off at an appropriately grimy place, like Eastbourne.
Now normally I do not judge people by their appearance or before I know them, but he made it so darn easy I just had to.
One of the main reasons I took these treacherous journeys was to re-kindle with an old friend. And it got me thinking about awkwardness. Now today was not awkward in the slightest, there were no turtles in sight. The girl I met with happened to be a childhood best friend and when we see each other the conversation flows as easily as a drunken piss. But I do sometimes wonder how it is that with certain people who live completely separate lives to me banter can be so effortless, but there are people my age, with all my friends with who I struggle to string two words together. Is it chemistry? Are some people simply built to be friends? Is it in our DNA or is it about effort? It reminds me of when I was organising my birthday party I found myself inviting people simply for something to fill an awkward silence, and I couldn't imagine what I used to talk about before then. It's just completely impossible to find an interesting topic to land on with some people, but the very worst thing is when you settle for a completely inappropriate one. Like for instance I somehow always talk to my friend’s new partners about all the memories I have with the old couple, I’ll use sentences like 'Yeah when he was with her he used too...' or 'Well that is funny because he did that with her too ' I assure you it leads me straight into the war zone. Forget awkward turtles its awkward fucking nukes. The worst part is if the girl/boy get's really into the conversation and starts asking loads of ludicrous questions about the ex-partner at which point my soul cries a little and I fake a call.
Faking things is becoming too easy. Tans. Accents. Orgasms. It comes down to good acting. Or with a less PR friendly label, lying. If you're a good liar, you'll be a brilliant actor. And vice-versa. The human race loves to lie, we tell white lies, wicked lies, and more recently we just lie for the hell of it. I could start a massive rant about how lying makes Mother Teresa cry but really I couldn't care less. If you're going to lie to me I say fair play because I’ve probably already lied to you twice that day alone. I do try my hardest not to lie about anything important because that gets too complex. I've very recently half lost my job due to this. And to be honest I don't get a thrill from lying, but if you do then by all means tell me the biscuits are dark not milk chocolate. Have a cheeky wank to that feeling, and then tell the truth. Because isn't the big reveal the best part of lying? The prestige? Is that not the main point of it, that only you know the truth? That superior buzz? It’s the same thing about secrets; if someone tells you their secret then you can sit happily on your throne of knowledge and scoff at those who are unaware of this jewel of wisdom. That is the reason I rarely tell secrets. Well that, and of course being a good friend and having a conscious blah blah blah...
I'm trying to blog and listen to hip-hop, which never works because I start attempting to fit the words to the beat and use way too many commas. And my brother just gave me a Kinder Bueno which I will be shortly going to town on. So that's all for today folks, I hope you dream of decrepit men pleasuring fruit because I definitely will.
You're probably wondering how I can still find topics of conversation to fill up this blog. Well that's the beauty of being a pessimist, everything is wrong. And as you've probably noticed I ruddy well love to complain. If there was a complaining category in 2012 I’d be the new Paula fucking Radcliffe. I can complain about anything, from Apple Macs to the lack of meaningful words that begin with 'Z'. And on that note I’d like to start with; public transport.
So today I took a lovely journey to Shitechester, home of the very very brave. I hopped on a train with my NME and my Diet Coke fully prepared to shove on some Ed Sheeran and have a whale of a time. Then, some mental pensioner decides instead of the many available seats all around he will cram next to me and whip out a picnic. Now if watching an OAP erotically eating a banana didn't make for a soul crushing journey, then the three screaming toddlers who waddled on at one of the many Worthings definitely did. Now after a perfectly agreeable day in my mid-childhood home I get on yet another train full of the hope and optimism I am famous for. Half way in I start to think that maybe there's hope for Southern Rail yet when who should swagger into the seat next to me but, you've guessed it, the don of chav-city. The major of Pikey-ville. The ruler of all that is inbred. If I didn't guess by his attire the following behaviour definitely confirmed it;
Step 1. Lie across many seats in an unnecessary fashion.
Step 2. Choose a high-pitched remix of a trance track and blast it at full volume on your 'Nokia Music Phone'.
Step 3. Chew in an animated fashion and Shout to your friend who is also sprawled across the carriage.
Step 4. Get off at an appropriately grimy place, like Eastbourne.
Now normally I do not judge people by their appearance or before I know them, but he made it so darn easy I just had to.
One of the main reasons I took these treacherous journeys was to re-kindle with an old friend. And it got me thinking about awkwardness. Now today was not awkward in the slightest, there were no turtles in sight. The girl I met with happened to be a childhood best friend and when we see each other the conversation flows as easily as a drunken piss. But I do sometimes wonder how it is that with certain people who live completely separate lives to me banter can be so effortless, but there are people my age, with all my friends with who I struggle to string two words together. Is it chemistry? Are some people simply built to be friends? Is it in our DNA or is it about effort? It reminds me of when I was organising my birthday party I found myself inviting people simply for something to fill an awkward silence, and I couldn't imagine what I used to talk about before then. It's just completely impossible to find an interesting topic to land on with some people, but the very worst thing is when you settle for a completely inappropriate one. Like for instance I somehow always talk to my friend’s new partners about all the memories I have with the old couple, I’ll use sentences like 'Yeah when he was with her he used too...' or 'Well that is funny because he did that with her too ' I assure you it leads me straight into the war zone. Forget awkward turtles its awkward fucking nukes. The worst part is if the girl/boy get's really into the conversation and starts asking loads of ludicrous questions about the ex-partner at which point my soul cries a little and I fake a call.
Faking things is becoming too easy. Tans. Accents. Orgasms. It comes down to good acting. Or with a less PR friendly label, lying. If you're a good liar, you'll be a brilliant actor. And vice-versa. The human race loves to lie, we tell white lies, wicked lies, and more recently we just lie for the hell of it. I could start a massive rant about how lying makes Mother Teresa cry but really I couldn't care less. If you're going to lie to me I say fair play because I’ve probably already lied to you twice that day alone. I do try my hardest not to lie about anything important because that gets too complex. I've very recently half lost my job due to this. And to be honest I don't get a thrill from lying, but if you do then by all means tell me the biscuits are dark not milk chocolate. Have a cheeky wank to that feeling, and then tell the truth. Because isn't the big reveal the best part of lying? The prestige? Is that not the main point of it, that only you know the truth? That superior buzz? It’s the same thing about secrets; if someone tells you their secret then you can sit happily on your throne of knowledge and scoff at those who are unaware of this jewel of wisdom. That is the reason I rarely tell secrets. Well that, and of course being a good friend and having a conscious blah blah blah...
I'm trying to blog and listen to hip-hop, which never works because I start attempting to fit the words to the beat and use way too many commas. And my brother just gave me a Kinder Bueno which I will be shortly going to town on. So that's all for today folks, I hope you dream of decrepit men pleasuring fruit because I definitely will.
Tuesday 15 March 2011
Never forget where you're coming from.
I know you were all waiting with bated breath over my four-day weekend but you can inhale deeply my loves. I am here. Now over my long absence I realised that I very rarely stick to anything I say I will, but I will try my very dandiest to stick to this, at least 5 times a week.
As a woman of a stern moral background I’d like to start by saying that I am uncomfortably aware of how dreadful the situation in Japan is, and how anything I say in this blog when compared with that will seem insensitive and cruel. Doing anything that isn’t a direct help to that great nation seems like a waste of energy. However we who are relatively distant from the horrible events must continue with life and not dwell on the situation. And on that note, I'd like to talk about; origins.
My followers and anyone who reads this pile of wank will know that my family is distantly Asian, my grandmother is Chinese. In fact my family can be somehow slot into most ethnicities and nationalities, in other words; my ancestors got around. Despite my exotic background I have never felt a particular strong urge to find out anything about it, I am from where I’ve been, where I’ve lived, and that's all that matters to me. But recently I’ve noticed that I have an abnormally large amount of Irish friends. Not just general Irish friends but friends from places like 'Cork' and 'Killarney'. Who knew such places existed? Let alone people actually went there? I thought when people went to Ireland they all just sat in Dublin with their nans and drank hard water tea. But apparently not. I'm not intending to be racist, in fact apparently I love the Irish as every friend I have is from there, but I just find it odd that people who originated from the same general country or place can have such different dialects and backgrounds. My mum for instants constantly fluctuates between what she believes to be ‘proper English’ and her heavy welsh accent.
Another thing my mum constantly does is forget about me. Last week I popped into a friend’s for a little chat and ended up staying till 10pm. I arrived home expecting to have to blurt out some sob story and instead discover that my sole carer thought I’d been upstairs since she returned at 3 and was just upset. Two things: 1. she’d put my dinner in the oven so I could eat it when I felt better. Meaning she hadn’t checked on me to ask. 2. When I actually am upset she’s Miss-fucking-attentive, she makes me answer a question a millisecond until I eventually die of breath-loss. My all time favourite mummery loss moment was when she forgot to leave a key out for me and my brand new friend. This girl had never been to my house before and I wanted to make a good impression, so I cleaned my room, left some food for us when we got home, fresh sheets, the whole shebang. My mum’s only job was to leave a key so that when we stumbled home at 4am we wouldn’t have to attempt a break in, pee in an alley, and eventually climb over a fence and break in the side door. Luckily we had potato smilies when we finally entered my abode so all was well. Once again I proved to be the semi-responsible being in our relationship.
Oh responsibilities. As I am growing ever older they are starting to mount upon me. I’ve never been the kind to face my responsibilities head on but instead trick them with many mirrors and costume changes. This has so far proved to be not a very useful tactic. I am always late, dead-lines, appointments, ofthepier. I am painfully lazy, I never do anything I don’t want or have to do. And I’m indecisive when it comes to insignificant decisions. Although these all might seem like terrible qualities when you really think about it I’m useful when it counts and I can be ace in a crisis. And that’s all that matters to me hence, because I’m selectively lazy as I said; I’ll leave it at that.
It’s easy to say don’t sweat the little things but we all do, and that won’t stop. Even with events all around us providing panorama we’re all still shamelessly self-involved. It’s not always a bad thing though, oh dear no. Selfless people get washed away by their own bottled up troubles where as selfish people are shallow, so they never drown. I’m not condoling egoistic behaviour in the slightest; I’m simply saying that you should take a little time for yourself and find a good balance in the battle of You vs. The World. I- for example, am not going to load the dishwasher and will instead watch crap TV and take a bubble bath. Because I feel I’ve been a little too benevolent today.
If you’re feeling liberal –
http://www.redcross.org.uk/japantsunami/?approachcode=68816_googlePAD5JpTs&gclid=CNeCntLO0acCFQoY4Qod40E5EA
As a woman of a stern moral background I’d like to start by saying that I am uncomfortably aware of how dreadful the situation in Japan is, and how anything I say in this blog when compared with that will seem insensitive and cruel. Doing anything that isn’t a direct help to that great nation seems like a waste of energy. However we who are relatively distant from the horrible events must continue with life and not dwell on the situation. And on that note, I'd like to talk about; origins.
My followers and anyone who reads this pile of wank will know that my family is distantly Asian, my grandmother is Chinese. In fact my family can be somehow slot into most ethnicities and nationalities, in other words; my ancestors got around. Despite my exotic background I have never felt a particular strong urge to find out anything about it, I am from where I’ve been, where I’ve lived, and that's all that matters to me. But recently I’ve noticed that I have an abnormally large amount of Irish friends. Not just general Irish friends but friends from places like 'Cork' and 'Killarney'. Who knew such places existed? Let alone people actually went there? I thought when people went to Ireland they all just sat in Dublin with their nans and drank hard water tea. But apparently not. I'm not intending to be racist, in fact apparently I love the Irish as every friend I have is from there, but I just find it odd that people who originated from the same general country or place can have such different dialects and backgrounds. My mum for instants constantly fluctuates between what she believes to be ‘proper English’ and her heavy welsh accent.
Another thing my mum constantly does is forget about me. Last week I popped into a friend’s for a little chat and ended up staying till 10pm. I arrived home expecting to have to blurt out some sob story and instead discover that my sole carer thought I’d been upstairs since she returned at 3 and was just upset. Two things: 1. she’d put my dinner in the oven so I could eat it when I felt better. Meaning she hadn’t checked on me to ask. 2. When I actually am upset she’s Miss-fucking-attentive, she makes me answer a question a millisecond until I eventually die of breath-loss. My all time favourite mummery loss moment was when she forgot to leave a key out for me and my brand new friend. This girl had never been to my house before and I wanted to make a good impression, so I cleaned my room, left some food for us when we got home, fresh sheets, the whole shebang. My mum’s only job was to leave a key so that when we stumbled home at 4am we wouldn’t have to attempt a break in, pee in an alley, and eventually climb over a fence and break in the side door. Luckily we had potato smilies when we finally entered my abode so all was well. Once again I proved to be the semi-responsible being in our relationship.
Oh responsibilities. As I am growing ever older they are starting to mount upon me. I’ve never been the kind to face my responsibilities head on but instead trick them with many mirrors and costume changes. This has so far proved to be not a very useful tactic. I am always late, dead-lines, appointments, ofthepier. I am painfully lazy, I never do anything I don’t want or have to do. And I’m indecisive when it comes to insignificant decisions. Although these all might seem like terrible qualities when you really think about it I’m useful when it counts and I can be ace in a crisis. And that’s all that matters to me hence, because I’m selectively lazy as I said; I’ll leave it at that.
It’s easy to say don’t sweat the little things but we all do, and that won’t stop. Even with events all around us providing panorama we’re all still shamelessly self-involved. It’s not always a bad thing though, oh dear no. Selfless people get washed away by their own bottled up troubles where as selfish people are shallow, so they never drown. I’m not condoling egoistic behaviour in the slightest; I’m simply saying that you should take a little time for yourself and find a good balance in the battle of You vs. The World. I- for example, am not going to load the dishwasher and will instead watch crap TV and take a bubble bath. Because I feel I’ve been a little too benevolent today.
If you’re feeling liberal –
http://www.redcross.org.uk/japantsunami/?approachcode=68816_googlePAD5JpTs&gclid=CNeCntLO0acCFQoY4Qod40E5EA
Thursday 10 March 2011
Never get crunk then pussy sail.
I would firstly like to thank my two followers. Although you are both following me out of obligation and pity it is still very much appreciated. It's bringing back memories of when my dad used to send me 'anonymous' valentine's day cards, I’d know it was from him so it'd never really give me that euphoric loved feeling, but it would make me smile. It sounds extremely pathetic but he hasn't done that since 2011 so it's okay.
Speaking of cards, letters and general vocabulary I would like to bring your attention to my first irritation of the day. The word 'fine'. Now this word has been a terminological thorn in my side for many a year now. It is the sort of nowhere word that shouldn't be used as a compliment, or ever particularly. If someone asks if they look alright and you say 'You look fine.' you've indirectly insulted them. They want to know they look above average, not subpar. Unless you put on a not very convincing stereotypically African-American accent and say 'You look fine, AS HELL GIRL.' I advise you to steer clear of that word altogether. The other thing that annoys me about this word is its mystery. If a friend says that they are 'fine' I automatically assume that they are in dire trouble. When did this happen? When did a word that allegedly means content become a social stress signal? The point is that everyone knows that's what it means. It's a vocabulary ninja. It means not what it's supposed to mean. If I’m feeling melancholy but not wanting to outright say that, I will say I’m fine. This statement will be followed by a long string of worried questions from my peers and I will be able to talk freely about my inferior and mediocre problems, 'since you asked...’
Another thing on my mind today is the legendary Charlie Sheen. Because let's be honest, who's mind isn't he on? And whose bed isn't he in? The man has become an overnight sensation and all because he's slightly off in the head, snorts anything crushable, and shags anything with a vague pulse. The point I’d like to draw upon is; Charlie Sheen has been this way possibly since Ferris Bueller took that day off. So why is he only getting major media attention now? Most people would say it's because he was released into the wild by the 'Two and a half men.' crew. I'd say it's the British tabloids. As soon as the born and bred publishing vultures caught sight of him the man was all over the front page faster than he could say 'Winning.'. But in all honesty he doesn't exactly make it easy for himself. If I was under supervision by police and paparazzi, my kids had been removed from my custody, and I was slowly becoming the next Chuck Norris I’d at least have the sense to lay low for a while and not to spew my cocaine-covered secrets to any reporter who almost glanced at me. I'm not really complaining however, the man gives me endless enjoyment.
A thing that provided me with little enjoyment today however; talent shows. Ever since the beginning of our schooling carers we've been told to excel in every way possible. To achieve highly. And breed our talents. But what is talent? Well according to that popular culture thing I keep bringing up, talent is the ability to either;
Sing,
Dance,
Act,
Or create a half decent sketch.
Now, being a mortal of very little talent I personally think this is an unfair judgment. I'd say my greatest talent is the ability to read people and assess social situations. However, would my year head see that trait as talent-show worthy? No. Personally even I wouldn't enjoy a five minute display of me evaluating the general 'auror' of a person or room and I doubt any sane person would. But why are these things not recognised as talents? What gives someone the right to say that is any less of a talent than being able to 'do the worm'. Okay so maybe my talent isn't quite the example I was looking for but it's a fair point. Sometimes the most amazing things are the most underrated.
Before I get too deep I have to point out that there are some super noodles in the microwave and they finished cooking 6 minutes ago and now they're cold and stale. I hope you're all happy. I'm going to eat them more than willingly anyway, fuck it.
Speaking of cards, letters and general vocabulary I would like to bring your attention to my first irritation of the day. The word 'fine'. Now this word has been a terminological thorn in my side for many a year now. It is the sort of nowhere word that shouldn't be used as a compliment, or ever particularly. If someone asks if they look alright and you say 'You look fine.' you've indirectly insulted them. They want to know they look above average, not subpar. Unless you put on a not very convincing stereotypically African-American accent and say 'You look fine, AS HELL GIRL.' I advise you to steer clear of that word altogether. The other thing that annoys me about this word is its mystery. If a friend says that they are 'fine' I automatically assume that they are in dire trouble. When did this happen? When did a word that allegedly means content become a social stress signal? The point is that everyone knows that's what it means. It's a vocabulary ninja. It means not what it's supposed to mean. If I’m feeling melancholy but not wanting to outright say that, I will say I’m fine. This statement will be followed by a long string of worried questions from my peers and I will be able to talk freely about my inferior and mediocre problems, 'since you asked...’
Another thing on my mind today is the legendary Charlie Sheen. Because let's be honest, who's mind isn't he on? And whose bed isn't he in? The man has become an overnight sensation and all because he's slightly off in the head, snorts anything crushable, and shags anything with a vague pulse. The point I’d like to draw upon is; Charlie Sheen has been this way possibly since Ferris Bueller took that day off. So why is he only getting major media attention now? Most people would say it's because he was released into the wild by the 'Two and a half men.' crew. I'd say it's the British tabloids. As soon as the born and bred publishing vultures caught sight of him the man was all over the front page faster than he could say 'Winning.'. But in all honesty he doesn't exactly make it easy for himself. If I was under supervision by police and paparazzi, my kids had been removed from my custody, and I was slowly becoming the next Chuck Norris I’d at least have the sense to lay low for a while and not to spew my cocaine-covered secrets to any reporter who almost glanced at me. I'm not really complaining however, the man gives me endless enjoyment.
A thing that provided me with little enjoyment today however; talent shows. Ever since the beginning of our schooling carers we've been told to excel in every way possible. To achieve highly. And breed our talents. But what is talent? Well according to that popular culture thing I keep bringing up, talent is the ability to either;
Sing,
Dance,
Act,
Or create a half decent sketch.
Now, being a mortal of very little talent I personally think this is an unfair judgment. I'd say my greatest talent is the ability to read people and assess social situations. However, would my year head see that trait as talent-show worthy? No. Personally even I wouldn't enjoy a five minute display of me evaluating the general 'auror' of a person or room and I doubt any sane person would. But why are these things not recognised as talents? What gives someone the right to say that is any less of a talent than being able to 'do the worm'. Okay so maybe my talent isn't quite the example I was looking for but it's a fair point. Sometimes the most amazing things are the most underrated.
Before I get too deep I have to point out that there are some super noodles in the microwave and they finished cooking 6 minutes ago and now they're cold and stale. I hope you're all happy. I'm going to eat them more than willingly anyway, fuck it.
Wednesday 9 March 2011
Never start a blog whilst enraged.
I'm sure popular culture dictates I should start by saying a few words about myself, but isn't learning the little things over time how we fall in love? And oh how I want you to love me.
Instead, I will tell you about my friends. My friend has decided that giving up alcohol would be a brilliant idea for lent, that's a lovely thought, but taking into the fact we're 17 makes it somewhat disturbing. Personally I think that at such an age of infinite possibilities it is in fact possible to have a good time without getting 'absolutely wankered' but needless to say even a intellectual being such as myself enjoys the odd mad one. The fact is that when they announced this to my chums there was a ripple of disgust, we (myself included) were astounded that someone would even consider 40 days without even a drop of fun juice. Does that make us alcoholics? I think so. If we were middle aged or in the US this would be seen as a serious problem, but as we are adolescents living in the capitol of binge drinking we continued to scoff at our sober friend. I do however wish her luck, and will update you of her progress.
Another thing that annoys me about British teens today is their complete devotion to sarcasm. Today we all went over to my best friend's and ate a fuck load of pancakes. What started out as a nice friendly afternoon soon became a blood bath of people's past embarrassments and heartaches. How is it that something you did once and seemed harmless can become so soul crushing when given to a mate as ammunition? There were jokes about boyfriends, in front of the boyfriends. Jokes about sex, in front of those involved. And jokes about being a hipster, in front of hipsters. I just don't understand why when the 'banter' is aimed at someone else it's hilarious, but when it's coming your way you want nothing more than to curl up and die and yet we all carry on and give it out like we don't know it's coming straight back. There is also the question of how to know when you've gone too far because it seems that whenever i attempt a light hearted sarcy joke no matter what I say the mood suddenly changes and it becomes apparent that i went 'Too far Lucy, too far.'.
Speaking of taking things too far, Facebook. When did it become okay to upload horrific pictures of people for other's amusement? I recently had some very lovely pictures of me and a 'you could say' friend uploaded. They weren't at all flattering and to be frank they were down right cringey. Aside from fuelling jokes amongst my group for the next decade they had no practical purpose other than to piss me and the other person involved off. So why do people do it? Why go through the effort and time just to make people feel bad? That's cyber bullying right there. I enjoy a good laugh as much as the next teen but that's what bad porn is for. And then there's that political battle within yourself of whether or not to remove your tag. If you do and the other person doesn't; you look rude and ashamed. If you don't and the other person does; you feel hurt and ashamed. Really the whole thing is another example of the blatant disregard for decency in the youth of today.
And on that note, and as it's National Non-Smoking day I’d just like to say 'Fuck off I’m going for a fag.'
Instead, I will tell you about my friends. My friend has decided that giving up alcohol would be a brilliant idea for lent, that's a lovely thought, but taking into the fact we're 17 makes it somewhat disturbing. Personally I think that at such an age of infinite possibilities it is in fact possible to have a good time without getting 'absolutely wankered' but needless to say even a intellectual being such as myself enjoys the odd mad one. The fact is that when they announced this to my chums there was a ripple of disgust, we (myself included) were astounded that someone would even consider 40 days without even a drop of fun juice. Does that make us alcoholics? I think so. If we were middle aged or in the US this would be seen as a serious problem, but as we are adolescents living in the capitol of binge drinking we continued to scoff at our sober friend. I do however wish her luck, and will update you of her progress.
Another thing that annoys me about British teens today is their complete devotion to sarcasm. Today we all went over to my best friend's and ate a fuck load of pancakes. What started out as a nice friendly afternoon soon became a blood bath of people's past embarrassments and heartaches. How is it that something you did once and seemed harmless can become so soul crushing when given to a mate as ammunition? There were jokes about boyfriends, in front of the boyfriends. Jokes about sex, in front of those involved. And jokes about being a hipster, in front of hipsters. I just don't understand why when the 'banter' is aimed at someone else it's hilarious, but when it's coming your way you want nothing more than to curl up and die and yet we all carry on and give it out like we don't know it's coming straight back. There is also the question of how to know when you've gone too far because it seems that whenever i attempt a light hearted sarcy joke no matter what I say the mood suddenly changes and it becomes apparent that i went 'Too far Lucy, too far.'.
Speaking of taking things too far, Facebook. When did it become okay to upload horrific pictures of people for other's amusement? I recently had some very lovely pictures of me and a 'you could say' friend uploaded. They weren't at all flattering and to be frank they were down right cringey. Aside from fuelling jokes amongst my group for the next decade they had no practical purpose other than to piss me and the other person involved off. So why do people do it? Why go through the effort and time just to make people feel bad? That's cyber bullying right there. I enjoy a good laugh as much as the next teen but that's what bad porn is for. And then there's that political battle within yourself of whether or not to remove your tag. If you do and the other person doesn't; you look rude and ashamed. If you don't and the other person does; you feel hurt and ashamed. Really the whole thing is another example of the blatant disregard for decency in the youth of today.
And on that note, and as it's National Non-Smoking day I’d just like to say 'Fuck off I’m going for a fag.'
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