This blog never really took off... I should either delete it or write to it more, right?
Wrong. I keep it so that when I have a thought to share with the world, I can post it, without worrying about followers or feedback. I can just know that somebody somewhere might come across my ideas, which would be pretty cool.
This post would probably single me out as just another emo fag, but humour me, please. Let me formulate my philosophical views and who knows, maybe we'll agree, maybe you'll give me something to live for, maybe I'll make you think.
Lately I've been waking up and staring out of my window, going to school and doing whatever I'm told to do until four, then going to the theatre out of habit or at somebody's request and talk to whoever's there, maybe learn something about lighting, maybe hug my almost-boyfriend-but-not (but that's another story), stay until sunset and then go home.
And as I'm riding my bike through the darkening streets on the same route I take every day, I mull over the day, and try to single out one thing that makes it different from the one before. Something that makes it better or makes it worse or makes it memorable at least. Usually it's my almost-boyfriend-but-not. Something he's said or done, not something I've done. Not a feeling I haven't felt in a while. Each day is the same. Wake up, school, see people, go home.
There are little details that change, maybe I'll take a slightly different route, maybe I'll go to Subway instead of McDonalds for lunch, maybe I got an essay back instead of handing one in, maybe I actually did some work. Each evening as I'm riding home I look at the sunset, and think that I'll never see that sunset again. And if the day was perfect I realise that it won't be the same again, because even if it was, I'd be different, I'd know that it was just a repeat of a day I loved.
And as I'm riding my bike through the darkening streets I close my eyes, trying to guess how long it'll take me to get to the corner, hoping I overestimate and speed into the main road, eyes closed, in front of a car... but instinct will always open my eyes and steer me to safety. My body won't let me die, so I push it to see how far I'll go. I wouldn't mind being hit by a car. Maybe it'll wake me up, maybe it'll kill me. Maybe both, maybe neither. Maybe I'll just go into that hospital all broken up, feeling the pain but knowing I can't do anything about it, so not caring. Knowing that I wasn't supposed to die then, so I didn't. Getting better, a different routine, but a routine none the less. And then when I was better I could go back to school and carry on my old routine, answer questions from people who'd never spoken to me before, showing off my scars, listening to my religious friends telling me that it was "God" who saved me. I'd go back, sit exams that don't matter, and move on.
Or I'd die, and that's it. I'd be dead. People would cry, people would move on, there'd be a funeral, and I'd be gone, totally unconscious of what's happened. Or I'd get to the next level. Maybe you die when you're supposed to die because if you go to the next level too soon you won't have the skills you need to deal with it, just like a computer game.
Anyway, I don't care whether I live or die. I do whatever I do purely for the enjoyment of it, or the knowledge that my English teacher won't kill me but slowly torture me, and that's something I'd fucking hate. So I'm going out in the rain now, to see if I feel real.
Monday, 30 May 2011
Monday, 23 August 2010
Motivation.
We all have days where we feel like saying "I'll do it later" meaning either "when I feel like it" or "after I've checked my Facebook, Twitter, etc etc etc." Of course later will never be here, we are naturally lazy beings, and when thrown into a situation that allows us to be lazy, we will be extra lazy.
For the last five days my sister and I have been alone in the house while our mother takes a relaxing holiday in Italy. She's been sitting in spas, lying in the sun, eating delicious Italian ice cream, getting massages from beautifully toned men, wallowing in naturally nutritious mud... although she deserves this lazy haze of wonder. Having just gone through the toils of moving house, providing me with money and releasing herself from the grasp of an unholy monster in the shape of an alcoholic, this break is a godsend, and hopefully she'll come home on Wednesday feeling refreshed and renewed.
My sister and I however have done nothing. We too have moved house, and whinged continually, only occasionally doing the washing up, and we too have had to deal with the horrors life presents, expecting Mother to solve everything because Mother knows best. We made vows to be helpful, to get jobs when we arrived, to cook and clean and help out where needed. We packed boxes, very slowly, we unpacked boxes, equally slowly, and sometimes we attempted to cook tea, resulting in one very thin spanish omlette and one round of tortilla wraps. Trying to be helpful is physically impossible for two apathetic teens, and now that we've been left alone and "the provider" has become unable to nag, we're still doing nothing. Leaving it for later has become leaving it for next week, two hours before mum comes home.
I woke up this afternoon to discover that I had no clean clothes, there were no spoons, and the houseplants were wilting. My sister was watching TV, protesting that she'd been at work the night before (she actually did get a job) and therefore needed to rest, but when does rest end?
The night before I'd simply been sat in front of the computer, listening to music and at regular intervals munching on ice cream, cereal and soup, which would explain the lack of spoons. I'm a compulsive snacker, preferring jam sandwiches over a full roast and Muller Rice being my replacement for oxygen. We have run out of chocolate, the milk has gone off, and there is one ice cream left, and we're unable to decide who's that should be. The next debate becomes who's money should pay for the food? Who needs the money more? Who has a job? Who needs money for petrol? Who needs money for trains? etc and so forth.
I've spent this afternoon putting all of my clothes in the washing machine, doing a whole weeks worth of disgusting washing up, and telling Lizzie that while I'm gone for the next three days, due to a lucky rash of parties centred around Results Day, she is to do everything herself. My motivation? Things got so bad I couldn't live anymore.
In future I suppose we just have to make these things as habitual as showers, or just stop eating and live in our PJs. But I refuse to let living conditions deteriorate so far again, whether I want to scrub plates or not.
For the last five days my sister and I have been alone in the house while our mother takes a relaxing holiday in Italy. She's been sitting in spas, lying in the sun, eating delicious Italian ice cream, getting massages from beautifully toned men, wallowing in naturally nutritious mud... although she deserves this lazy haze of wonder. Having just gone through the toils of moving house, providing me with money and releasing herself from the grasp of an unholy monster in the shape of an alcoholic, this break is a godsend, and hopefully she'll come home on Wednesday feeling refreshed and renewed.
My sister and I however have done nothing. We too have moved house, and whinged continually, only occasionally doing the washing up, and we too have had to deal with the horrors life presents, expecting Mother to solve everything because Mother knows best. We made vows to be helpful, to get jobs when we arrived, to cook and clean and help out where needed. We packed boxes, very slowly, we unpacked boxes, equally slowly, and sometimes we attempted to cook tea, resulting in one very thin spanish omlette and one round of tortilla wraps. Trying to be helpful is physically impossible for two apathetic teens, and now that we've been left alone and "the provider" has become unable to nag, we're still doing nothing. Leaving it for later has become leaving it for next week, two hours before mum comes home.
I woke up this afternoon to discover that I had no clean clothes, there were no spoons, and the houseplants were wilting. My sister was watching TV, protesting that she'd been at work the night before (she actually did get a job) and therefore needed to rest, but when does rest end?
The night before I'd simply been sat in front of the computer, listening to music and at regular intervals munching on ice cream, cereal and soup, which would explain the lack of spoons. I'm a compulsive snacker, preferring jam sandwiches over a full roast and Muller Rice being my replacement for oxygen. We have run out of chocolate, the milk has gone off, and there is one ice cream left, and we're unable to decide who's that should be. The next debate becomes who's money should pay for the food? Who needs the money more? Who has a job? Who needs money for petrol? Who needs money for trains? etc and so forth.
I've spent this afternoon putting all of my clothes in the washing machine, doing a whole weeks worth of disgusting washing up, and telling Lizzie that while I'm gone for the next three days, due to a lucky rash of parties centred around Results Day, she is to do everything herself. My motivation? Things got so bad I couldn't live anymore.
In future I suppose we just have to make these things as habitual as showers, or just stop eating and live in our PJs. But I refuse to let living conditions deteriorate so far again, whether I want to scrub plates or not.
Monday, 10 August 2009
Looking Up
Finally
A clear night after months of rain
My mind sees you
Looking up
No lights but the ones above you
Distant lanterns embedded in the blue.
A feeling
A tingling in my back
In the core of my heart
Leap up, Open the window
Peer into the darkness with tired eyes
The chill wind tells me what to do.
Grab the dressing gown
Creep Downstairs
Open the back door slowly
I stand alone on the empty patio
Stones unmarked by footprints
Grass freshly cut and still long
I still don’t know what compelled me that night
To imagine that you might be there
I convinced myself I’d see you
Looking up
No lights
But the ones above you
Distant lanterns embedded in the black
And supernovas reflected in your eyes.
Friends
The Trees may house their
Smaller companions
The wind may carry the birds
The rocks provide shelter for
Tiny sea creatures
The grass may feed the herds
The Earth is friends with
Itself and its children
We all thrive on eachother
One human alone
Can not survive unless
It has another
Smaller companions
The wind may carry the birds
The rocks provide shelter for
Tiny sea creatures
The grass may feed the herds
The Earth is friends with
Itself and its children
We all thrive on eachother
One human alone
Can not survive unless
It has another
Thursday, 6 August 2009
Desperate Romantics
In recent weeks on BBC1 i have watched Desperate Romantics and discovered that although there are some crude and womanizing themes, it is rather interesting to find out how the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood came to paint their masterpieces.
In my GCSE Art project this year I am studying Ophelia by John Everett Millais, as the use of nature and natural forms contrasts well with the unnatural suicide of Ophelia.
Monday, 3 August 2009
Heroes
People will make heroes out of anything, fictional characters, F1 drivers, TV stars, the really famous people. I have very few heroes that other people would call heroes, but those that i do have are models and those who photograph them, because the photographs are usually gorgeous.
Kate Moss is one of my favourite models, because she has started so many trends, like the trend of looking overly thin, which isn't such a great thing, but waistcoats, micro-shorts, wayfarers, shorts-&-wellies at Glastonbury, all 
She has been on over 300 magazine covers, she’s shorter than the average model, and in 2007 she became the 2nd richest supermodel according to Forbes.
I love her figure because she’s shorter than the average model and she was so thin in the 90s that people speculated that she was anorexic, but of course she denied it and said “how many times can you say ‘I’m not anorexic.’”
Friday, 17 April 2009
dogs and shizz
Yeahh not said anything interesting for a while...
Well i got a new puppy!
He's a Jack Russel Terrier and his name is Max :)
He's about 4 months old and we got him at 8 weeks, and he's really really annoying me. although, we've managed to train him not to jump up as much and to sit, so he's getting better, and he doesn't think that weeing on people is an appropriate greeting gesture anymore.
it's all good!
however, i am grounded, because i'm stupid and swore at my mum saying i don't care about the f**king dog.
on top of that my stepdad-to-be doesn't think i'm mixing with the right crowd, and so wants me to move schools, so that i can never see anyone from my school or a nearby school ever again because they aren't good for me. i have no other friends, i don't want any other friends, i love my boyfriend, i love my best friends, all of them, and i know the friendship won't last forever and ever, but i'd prefer it just to fizzle out naturally than to have them torn away from me and replaced with plastic snobs who like horses and hunting and their daddies are all rich and powerful and they all wear jack wills hoodies and listen to mainstream pop oh god what will happen to me!
me and my emo, screamo rock, me and my gorgeous, amazing boyfriend, me and my brilliant friends, me and my black clothes and messy hair, me and my world. it will all be gone.
it's not happening. i'm not letting it.
bye x
Well i got a new puppy!
He's a Jack Russel Terrier and his name is Max :)
He's about 4 months old and we got him at 8 weeks, and he's really really annoying me. although, we've managed to train him not to jump up as much and to sit, so he's getting better, and he doesn't think that weeing on people is an appropriate greeting gesture anymore.
it's all good!
however, i am grounded, because i'm stupid and swore at my mum saying i don't care about the f**king dog.
on top of that my stepdad-to-be doesn't think i'm mixing with the right crowd, and so wants me to move schools, so that i can never see anyone from my school or a nearby school ever again because they aren't good for me. i have no other friends, i don't want any other friends, i love my boyfriend, i love my best friends, all of them, and i know the friendship won't last forever and ever, but i'd prefer it just to fizzle out naturally than to have them torn away from me and replaced with plastic snobs who like horses and hunting and their daddies are all rich and powerful and they all wear jack wills hoodies and listen to mainstream pop oh god what will happen to me!
me and my emo, screamo rock, me and my gorgeous, amazing boyfriend, me and my brilliant friends, me and my black clothes and messy hair, me and my world. it will all be gone.
it's not happening. i'm not letting it.
bye x
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