HOLIDAY (kind of)

So I'm back again! Back from the abyss that is preparing for holidays, back from the pit that is exhaustion at the end of the school term... And back, most importantly, from Germany.

I appreciate it's been a long, LONG time. But I've had fun! I've been busy. I don't just sit there doing nothing. I do things, see things. We saw Sans Soucci palace (it means without cares- OHNE SORGEN)... And we went to the Jewish Museum in Berlin, which was harrowing, possibly partially due to the fact that as we were translating from German it took longer to read and to find the information (though there are panels in the museum next to the German ones which have the English, I was testing myself). Taking a long time to read these chunks of information means that they really hit a home string. We (there were eight students and two teachers) read about the experiences of Jewish children and families during the Holocaust... I highly recommend going and seeing for yourselves. Unless you were on the trip with me or have already been (though it won't hurt to go again). It's on Lindenstrasse 9-14, 10969 Berlin. The building was designed by Daniel Libeskind, who after having completed the museum was suddenly in demand. His work is revered.

So on this trip, there were two teachers (as I said), me (a Year 13), Anya, Huw, Sadie and Tegwen (Year 12s), and Abbie, Rowena and Mel (Year 11s). I felt a bit odd being the oldest non-teacher there. We had a lot of good conversation, a lot of snooker games, and a LOT of food.

We were there for four days. I hate flying. I loved walking back through the front door, though, because my mum cried. Four days, I know. I cried too. A mixture of tiredness and having missed her so badly... It was amazing.

I'm afraid I got up at quarter to five and need to try to fill a full day tomorrow, revising and decking the halls. Probably not with boughs of Holly.

Advent, Advent, ein lichtlein brennt... I can't remember the rest, but it was two or three weeks ago I heard it...

FROHE WEIHNACHTEN!!! Merry Christmas!

Have great holidays/ festivities!

Happy reading, folks!

(And the morning light sings, and brings) new things...

As I'm sure many of you have experienced while you were young (if you are still young, hopefully you're experiencing it now), the rather useful phenomenon that is your parents pushing you into trying new things. After a while you come to have favourite foods and certain ones you avoid. I, for example, am a great pasta lover, but I will lay down my fork (or stab the chef with it) if you place cauliflower cheese in front of me. Personally I feel that particular dish is an abomination. But I digress.

So, my parents did indeed tell me to try new things. This year, what with my feeling a little more adult, and actually having some disposable income (part-time jobs, most of it I'm saving for university though), I thought I'd like to start eating out at some different places. Back in July, I did a review of an art exhibition (not food, in this case) that my friends had created. I sincerely must re-mention it was damn good. I am lucky to have such talented friends. But back to my point! I enjoy writing short reviews. If nothing else, it gives me a tangible, written opinion, that because it is on the internet can never be lost or misplaced.

So, last Friday, I went to Filini. Glass tables, very clean cutlery, food presented very well (actually it was almost too beautiful to eat, and then it tasted almost too good to actually swallow, but there you go), service impeccable. The waiters and waitresses who attended our table did so very efficiently. And they enjoyed their jobs. A tip for you: no matter how mundane a person's job may seem, they're doing it. And you should thank them. Sincerely. It can make their day.

Anyway, the food. The food! Meat antipasti, Meat and cheese antipasti, Various breads with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. That was the starter. Main course:  Risotto ai frutti di mari profumato al limone (Lemon scented seafood risotto). It was incredible, not undercooked or overcooked, the squid wasn't chewy but actually soft (undercooked, it's a bit like chewing a small rubber ring)... ANd dessert, which is my biggest regret of the last month. Not because it was bad; it wasn't. Filini's has literally the best, creamiest tiramisu I have ever eaten. It was divine. But I was full. Darn.

Amazing setting. Overall, 9/10. Only nine because I would have liked a little more light- it wasn't dingy but it could have done with a little more visibility. But I LOVED it!!!

Happy reading, folks!

Essay day

Lots of English schools are closed today because our teachers are off striking in order to somehow raise their own pension packets. Two things: because they're not working, they don't get paid for today (clever...) and they're also not going to change much. Petitions and pressure groups, people! Those are the only things that will work at this point! That or replacing David Cameron (our Prime Minister, and an idiot) with someone who can do the job better.

I'm not looking to start a political debate here, I'm just saying. I'm not saying I'd do a better job, just that he's doing a bad one.

In other news... As we have a day off I've been watching The Godfather (I say been watching because it's almost three hours long so there are breaks every now and then), cooking lunch (took half an hour; SO worth it. I hate fast food. Just because it takes less time does not mean it's good for you. In fact, the rule is kind of an inverted thing. What you really want is either raw food all the time (salads and stuff, but I like meat and fish and hot food in general so that's not really possible) or food that takes long enough to cook that you actually RESPECT it. And take the time to ENJOY it. I get up half an hour earlier than I need to, because I want TIME to enjoy my food and appreciate where it's come from. The fact it's usually coming from the toaster is something to be ignored. I don't like to wolf stuff down. Among other things, it makes me feel sick. It also means I feel hungry more quickly afterwards.

Today has also been an essay day. That means I've done essays all day (probably quite self-explanatory but for those who didn't somehow work it out, there you go). Today is German essay day. I'm doing topics like wine-growing in the region of Rhineland-Pfalz and the commersialisation of Hallowe'en. We have to be pretty specific this year with what we choose to write about. It is difficult but enjoyable.

Right, I'd better finish this next essay ("Watching television on your Laptop saves electricity and money").

Happy reading, folks!

Mind your Ps and Qs (please. Thank you.)

As a teenager, and a Briton, I feel people who do not know me often stereotype me. Everybody becomes aware of certain labels they have placed upon them. We often, unfortunately, are then treated accordingly. This leads to something of a self-sulfilling prophecy in some cases- where a person is labelled as something and through interactions with others they change to fit their label.

For the sake of this post, being a teenager is something a great majority of the humans on this planet endure. So I'm using that as the basis for my next argument, which is (in England at least) STOP being moody and thinking you have to say intelligent things all the time. STOP expecting people to always help you. But mainly, please please PLEASE stop forgetting to use your manners.

I know we are in a recession, okay? I know you have exams. I know you're unhappy because your dog's ill, or your grandmother passed away, or you've run out of foundation. I know that life could probably be going better, and I know that sometimes there are moments when you think it'd be great to just sleep until all the problems have gone away. Whether you're having trouble at school, at home, or at work, it still constitutes very little effort to use manners.

I have been brought up to hold doors for people. Don't misunderstand this as chivalry- I just do it. I do it for you. I do it for the people on the other side of the door, the guy who looks like he needs to be somewhere fast, the teachers who carry countless boxes and files everywhere. At work I do it for the customers. There's nothing like investing a little good into the day. I enjoy my job.

What I don't, however, enjoy, is when I do this sort of thing and people don't say thank you. Sometimes, people don't even acknowledge my presence. I'm not a ghost! I'm not a doorstop! I have just given a little time and energy to make you feel better. Please thank me for it. If at this point any readers are saying or thinking, "yeah, but you only do it for yourself", of course I do. That's what we all do. That's the only reason people do good things- to make themselves feel good, or better, about who they are. To relieve guilt. I was an AWFUL child, and I mean that, truly I do. I was terrible. Nowadays I try to be as friendly and docile as possible. I use manners. I say thank you. I say please. Not in that order.

I don't understand two things in this situation: one, why don't people say thank you for these little gestures? And two, why is this now acceptable? There should be a universal level of respect for everyone. But only for the right reasons. If you're older than me, it doesn't give me any cause to respect you. I respect you because you've been here longer- it's not about age, it's about experience in the field, in life. I respect my coworkers, because I know that people don't appreciate even the most menial jobs can mean endless hours of tiring work. When did it become okay to expect other people to open the door for you? When did it become okay to completely ignore your waiter or waitress at dinner? When did it become okay to talk down to people because they know less than you or because they've done wrong things in the past? Derogatory behaviour rips us apart. Friends turn against friends. Families fail to communicate.

A few little rules we should all use:

* Obey the rules of the road, people! They're there for a reason.
* Don't interrupt people while they're talking unless it's important. Really important.
* Help where you can.
* Don't assume people have or haven't done things. If you assume someone is guilty, you may well be treating an innocent man wrongly. If you assume someone is lazy, check they're not doing their work elsewhere.
* Try to genuinely understand the situation others are in.
* Say please, say thank you.
* Appreciate people for doing their jobs!
* Say please and thank you some more.
* Be chivalrous.
* Be helpful.
* Jealousy is fine, just don't voice it.
* Talking about one person to another is a quick way to lose friends and/or gain a reputation as a gossip. Sharing secrets is not condoned.
* NEVER use technology while at the dinner table. It should be about the people there, and the food.
* Chew. with. your. mouth. closed.
* Don't speak with your mouth full.
* Don't laugh at others for not being able to do something just because you find it easy. They are probably better than you at something else.
* Don't lie to get others into trouble. If you mess up, you should take the blame.

Happy reading, folks!

Agony shan't

 So, more dental treatment, I'm sure loads of you have been through it. Apologies for not poating for a while. I've had a truckload of work I wanted to get through (one more essay to do tonight, it's quarter to eleven and this one's due tomorrow) and I still have a bit more (okay LOADS but let's ignore it for the minute).

This little intro brings me to what I call the Golden Rule of Work (GROW). The GROW is, and this is not simplified or shortened or anything, because it's nice and simple already- "As long as the work is in on the deadline, completed to a satisfactory degree and quality, then it doesn't matter when you do it."

I live by this rule. Seriously. I'm the "night before the deadline" kind of person many of my friends despise. Not because I don't do the work, but because I work well under pressure, so leaving most of the application (which admittedly I do preplan in advance, because it gives me days to think of what I'll write into the longer essays) until the night before is fine by me. I can speed-type when I'm in the working mood. By speed type I mean seven pages in an hour. Size twelve font. But yeah, I have to be in a working mood. A productive mood, as it were. It does depend on the subject, though. Law and Sociology essays are a lot easier to complete than German ones, not least because I already know English grammar, syntax, cases, and verb agreement. I've just finished an essay titled "Das Verhältnis zwischen Martin und Clarissa ist gespannt. Wie ist das zu erklären und auf welche Weise wird das im Film vermittelt?". For those of you, I guess a majority, who don't speak German, this translates into "The relationship between Martin and Clarissa is strained. How is this explained and through what methods is it mediated (shown)?" so yes. Sometimes A-Level languages have some strange questions. We've just finished a seven-week long "Environmental resources" topic- believe it or not, I've learnt more about renewable resources in the last term than science taught me in the whole of Secondary School.

Anywhooo, I got braces put on my top teeth this past Friday (two days ago). I still can't chew anything, and they're cutting my mouth because the orthodontist didn't cut the ends of the wires off enough. So every time I smile or laugh or talk or eat or even brush my teeth, I cut the inside of my cheeks. Like an inside-out joker. Except even less funny. Agony shan't get the better of me, however.

One thing that gets rid of pain is hilarity- and hilarity did indeed present itself yesterday evening. Boy oh boy, it was a treat, I tell you! My mother and I, her boyfriend (Julian) and his daughter were all sat in the living room, me on the floor, the other three on chairs (I'm completely uncouth, I know). Suddenly, Julian jumped off the chair, and smacked a rather large spider onto the floor. It started jogging (not quite a run, not quite a walk, like it was hurrying, I suppose) towards the curtains. His daughter ran to get a glass and postcard [note: these should exist in every house at all times for moments such as this]. Right as she left the room, he put his foot in front of it, to stop it getting to the curtains. Now, I would have applauded this (admittedly ill-thought out) tactical move, if it were not for what happened next. The spider, seeing the shoe, sped up. It ran to the shoe, straight UP the side of the shoe (still on Julian's foot) and... Up his trouserleg. There was a moment of disbelief. He then started doing what I can only describe as a one-legged, three-times-normal-speed haka dance, stamping the foot over and over again. After four or so frenzied stamps (all four of us are scared of spiders, I should say), it fell to the floor. The damage, however, has been done. My mother and I pissed ourselves laughing, and there are now conversations underway to the effect of wearing bicycle clips at all times. A good idea, perhaps, but I think I prefer the more interesting outcome that results from the alternative.

Happy reading, folks!

No woman, no b***h

We've all met that one girl. She looks nice enough. She comes to class. Or not. Most women/girls/female humans live an existence that, for lack of a better phrase, is multi-faceted. We have a lot to deal with. So do men. But men, men are different. They sort things out. They eat different stuff (I have a couple of mates,and by a couple I mean at least five, who seem to live off chocolate and crisps and other foods with similar properties). They wear different clothes. They act differently. The biggest difference? Most men aren't bitches.

Now, quite clearly, these are stereotypes. They have to be. If they're not, things get boring. Besides, there are a lot of bitches out there, and like I said, girls are multi-faceted. The more facets you have (figuratively speaking), the more possible reasons there are behind why you're awful.

Here we have it: the Six Bitches. (These are the most prolific)

Academic bitch
Let's be clear here, I'm not talking about the new teacher who's completely at the mercy of other teachers. No, this is the girl who does really, really well in your year, but has no real redeeming qualities. She'll only be pretending to congratulate you on your results. She's asked you like she's asked everyone else- and for one reason. To make sure she's done better (and you know it). "Aw, do you need some help? I already understand it/I got it already/I learnt this years ago. Here, let me show you." I'd rather not learn it, thanks.

Middle-class bitch
The one girl you like, until you realise she's focused on one thing and one thign only- establishing to others how uppercut she is. Activities include talking about how much opportunity she has, how lucky she is, and how unfortunate the lower classes are. Yes, they are, but moaning about it does nothing. Actions, not words. Actions, though, are something this bitch expects to be done for her.

Rich bitch
Oh yeah, look at all her money, and her things, and her poor-little-rich-girl problems. She has it all, but she has nothing, she has everything you want (and/or need), and yet, and yet... She isn't greatful. The kind of girl who doesn't respect her belongings at all. "Oh, my phone broke! Guess I'll get another." We bet you will.

Work bitch
she might be your boss. She might work in a different department. She might even be your subordinate. The point is, this one's an...un-keeper, if you like. GO AWAY, work bitches. All you do is moan all day about how much you hate your job. Asking every for the time every five minutes signals only one thing: you feel you have somewhere better to be and something better to do. Save it. It's annoying. If the job gets in the way that much, just quit!

Pseudopseudobitch
The bitch who makes bitchy comments, before pretending they're jokes. "Just kidding!" "Aw, you know I don't mean it." "You love it really." I love you not being here, that's what I love. Often these girls start out as friends and then seem to do some form of decomposition to become what is essentially a pseudopseudobitch- a girl who pretends to "pretend". We'd like to more than pretend to see the back of the likes of you.

The dumb bitch
Oh, this is probably the worst. But also the easiest to shred. These girls are the ones who overhear your conversation before openly proclaiming that to know so much "you must totally have, like, no life. Lol!" Ah, dumb bitches. You will not amount to much. Go run, I'm sure there's a bin or something waiting for you. Just because someone is bright doesn't mean they have no social life (careful ladies, not to turn into academic bitches here. You do have a right to defend yourselves, just not too much).

THE MEGA (PRE-) CHRISTMAS POST (featuring what I want for Christmas really)

So, it's getting to that time of year where there's that feeling in the air (or maybe they've put something in the water) that Christmas is coming up. Yes, I know it's nearly two months away. No, I don't think it's too early to be talking about it. Why? Because. Shops (well, some of them, anyway) have started putting up Christmas displays; the "present-perfect" products are being rolled, shipped, bounced, played and thrown in (much to the chagrin of any parents who now make the mighty mistake of taking their children shopping, I'm sure). These kids, they know no bounds. They'll point out stuff- "Mummy, daddy! I want that! It's so cool!"/"omigawdomigawdomigawd mummm can I have this for Christmas?!"... You know it's happening. I've seen it already. Parents the country, the world over, saying things like, "Well, if you're really REALLY good, Santa might get it for you".

Two quick things about the Santa deal, folks. One, it means children don't thank you for presents you worked hard to earn money to buy. You don't get any credit. Two, it means they think they'll always be rewarded for being good. Life ain't like that for real. Just remember that.

Shitty shoot-downs ASIDE, Santa, I've been completely unangelic this year, so please please please, get me some of these!

(note to all, I doubt I will receive any of this stuff but it's the cool additions I wish I deserved!)

My Wish List...

Item one: A self-stirring mug.

I want this for  number of reasons, the main ones being that I can't be bothered to go on a spoon-hunt every time I want coffee (or hot chocolate, or festive eggnog- homemade!) and it is also freaking awesome just because it exists. Link here. (DRAWBACK: I'll forget how to stir and then lose the mug, resorting in dependence upon others every time I want a drink with more than one ingredient.)

Item two: Whistle-activated key finder(s).

Now these, for reasons I'm sure I've handily neglected to make clear, I positively need. I am terrible with my keys. I mean it. I go to sleep, they're on the shelf in my room. I wake up, they've decided to go on holiday, take a nice stroll down the hall or go and check out another room for the fun of it. Point being, these would be really useful if nothing else. (DRAWBACK: I may somehow lose the ability to whistle. Then I'm completely screwed. At the moment when I lose my keys it takes around three to five days to find them- imagine how much time this gadget could save me!)

Item three: The MorphSuit. With the ninja detailing.

Somehow it doesn't need justification. See this awesome thing.

Item four: A non-cordless telephone.

Strange how we have to say these are weird nowadays, but I love the telephone that has its own holder and has a cord that you can twizzle around and around your finger while having difficult conversations with someone you like on the other end of the line. phones you can't walk away with, put down, and then have to press that button on the "main" base that signals you've lost- the "phonefinder" button, or whatever you want to call it. This button shows you are inept at even keeping a hold on something without legs. On the other hand, a phone with a cord can't run away. Genius, eh?

Item five: A Selk.

Now, of course you'll be wondering what this is. Unless you're amazing enough to know already, a selk is a sleeping bag, except there are separate legs and arms. And a hood. The ends of the arms unzip so you can even do stuff (like homework eating stuff and changing channels, typing and gaming) wihtout having to get out of your sleeping bag. I've got an idea that I could buy some big shoes and wear them over it so I could wear it to school and work. Winter = sorted..  Also no having to "caterpillar jump" everywhere (hilarious as it is)!

Item six: An "on this day" calendar.

Basically, you need a calendar every year. If you're like me, you also need silly facts and tidbits to tell your friends when they ask what's new (or in this case, old). It's heat sensitive too! Hot.

Item seven: Now this took me a while to find again. And it does truly make me wish (though not for long) that I were a little smaller. I give you the Razor Riprider 360. This is my toy. My mum and I went to Toys R Us (I don't know if they exist in the US and other countries, but it's a MASSIVE toystore) and tried these out. They're fun. They're easy to get the hang of. But, most unfortunately, they're not available in adult size. Bastard manufacturers.

Item eight: The skate Spinner.

A very important piece of kit that I will buy if not given, this allows figure skaters (and anyone else who wants to get dizzy) to learn to spin without travelling on the ice. Everything is explained on the (German) site here. If you can't read German, either translate it using Google or get a German-speaking friend/ stranger to help you. These help us practice and improve our spins on the ice.

This is, for now, my definitive list, minus ski socks (which "Santa" gave me last year, and were my best-loved present by far. I have no idea why, but I love ski socks.

Happy reading, folks!

Finally!

Well, three things have finally happened in the last week that I have been waiting for/ waiting to do for AGES.

Timesheets
I finally got my timesheets in, so it looks like I might actually get paid. Which is, clearly and obviously, a good thing. Not because I will die without the money; because I have worked a lot of hours and getting nothing for it would suck now. Anyway! It took me an hour to fill them in, you have to be pretty meticulous and quite neat- no mean feat for me on a Friday.

Holidaa-aa-aay
It is FINALLY half term. I expect to see students and children running amok on the streets, going AWOL (although in this case I suppose they DO have leave)... Generally doing crazy stuff. A2 is difficult! We do, contrary to popular belief, study rather a lot of the time. I'm not complaining about the studying, don't get me wrong. But... You know, six or seven weeks in a row feels like a really long time. Too long, almost. It is fun, it is interesting, indeed.I do enjoy it just a little bit (alright, alright, a lot). But it's tiring, truly tiring. I'm tired a lot of the time. Not exhausted, but tired enough to fall asleep in the middle of a class. Oops. And apologies to my friend Aggie, on whom I fell asleep. Sorry!
I plan to do a lot of work this holiday. Yes. And have a lot of fun too. Now I work at the ice rink I don't have to pay for ice time, so it's much easier to practice without running myself into the ground financially, so to speak. I love this. There's a lot more freedom to spend money on other things, like winter clothes (I don't actually own a scarf, hat or gloves, or any warm shoes) and crazy capitalist things such as STARBUCKS EGGNOG LATTES. 'Tis (almost) the season!

Is anybody else getting that Christmas feeling yet? Oh man, I've had it for about a week now. I reckon you might see a post soon about my Christmas wish list (I don't actually ask for all the things on it, nor do I have the space for them, it's just my fantasy presents list, within reason). It's gonna be a bit out there. I already have ideas!

Third "awesome sauce" thing that's happening is that I should be able to start my tutoring of younger pupils soon. We conduct Cognitive ability tests in year seven, and this year quite a few of the younger pupils aren't so hot on their reading skills. Evidently this is a problem for them because it means they'll struggle in their work, so I'm going to go and help them. Our first lesson is going to be a little off-topic, but it's all good, it's just an ice breaker.

I'm going to ask the students three questions. The first is,

"A bat and ball cost £1.10. The bat costs £1 more than the ball. How much does the bat cost?"

I hope they'll find it either a really silly question, or a bit difficult. Bearing in mind, this is a little bit to do with reading, and a little bit to do with logical cognitive thinking. I just want to see how they deal with it. There are other questions and activities I want to set them as well, just to find out how they work things through and how they see tasks. It should prove to be quite interesting, I think, as I have to find out how best to help them and to do that I need to know how each student feels about, and approaches, learning.

Right, lesson plans!

P.S. Congratulate me, I just broke my phone. Wonderful.

The Pig Tales, Episode One

Today, I hopped in the back of my friend Ruth's car, for more than one reason. Firstly, I hadn't seen her in AGES (she's the year above me and has therefore left school) and secondly, there was the promise of meeting Pip, who I was told was rather cute and certainly a sight to behold.

Now, you may have guessed by this point that Pip would have to be pretty interesting for me to take an afternoon away from work and revision. You'd be correct.
Pip is in fact a pig. A tiny pig. However, Pip (known to my friend as Bacon) isn't a micropig, he's merely very small because he was the runt of his litter and he's not very old. I think she said he's four days old today. I shall, at some point, have to get a picture of Pip to show you.

For clarity's sake, from now on, Pip shall be known as Bacon. Or Sausage. But probably Bacon.

The thing is, because Bacon was the runt, he was shunned by his mum, and he wasn't being fed. So Ruth adopted him, so to speak. He lives in the family's house. You can all laugh at this point, because as I said, Bacon's not a micropig, and by next week he should be double the size he is now. If I were to give a reference for you, today he was about twenty to thirty centimetres long, fifteen centimetres wide, and twenty centimetres high. And adorable. Adorable on a surprisingly large scale considering how small he is.

Drawbacks...
There are four drawbacks with owning a pig that I can see. Firstly, it's in the house, and that means paying for its food and getting it housetrained (making it wee in the right place, or rather preventing toilet sessions on furniture and such). Secondly, it's going to grow. Squee pig becomes Big Pig. And then, only if you sell it to the circus or something, will it become Big Pig in Wig. Problematic to say the least. Thirdly, once you're attached to te pig, it's hard to eat it. From an adult pig of average size, you can get up to three hundred sausages. However, once the seven-year old and eight-year old of the household have named it, it's more of a pet than a meal. To quote Russell Howard, "Aww, he's cute... But he looks tasty". Cute and delicious doesn't bode well in that order for children. They will be horrified to find their precious family pet has been turned into bangers and mash. Or rashers. Or anything with pork.
Fourthly, that thing ain't gonna be light. And it certainly won't be obedient. What about those teeth? Bacon bit me today, and as a result was nearly turned into his namesake. However, if he does bite one of us badly, at least we can say it's fair and square to eat him.

I shall report back in around a week's time to give word of new swine developments!

Question: is it wrong to feed a pig sausages if you explain (in PigSpeak first, of course) that it's in fact that pig's friend or family?

Question number two: what's the best name for a pig you may one day eat? Bacon? Sausages? Buttie? Porky Delicious? Spiderpig? Harry Plopper? If there are any others, you name them.

Feedback is useful!

So on the terrors post below, a commenter told me I'm chatting a great deal of rubbish (I won't quote the actual commenter, you can all go and have a look). It got me thinking, truly. Am I being too harsh on other people? I mean, I only inflict my views on you (not particularly sorry but there's always going to be someone out there who makes me feel a small element of shame for what I once found perfectly reasonable). So, I pose a few questions, and I want genuine answers.

Does it matter if everyone speaks the Queen's English or not? I mean, should it (or can it) be seen as okay to speak using other phrases and words, perhaps created by whatever subculture...? Surely as long as people are still understandable without too much hassle, that's verifiable conversation? Or should society remain as it is, biased towards those who speak a certain way and act a certain way? Should we all be taught a uniform way of speaking, after which we can deviate or use any different dialects as we please?

I do find it confusing to fully work out what some people mean when they say things, sometimes. Should I just be trying harder, or am I perfect;y justified in holding my own opinions? What do you think?

My hope is that Mr. or Mrs. Anonimous from the comment below will see what I mean. If you're not reading this, Mr. or Mrs. Anonimous, then darn it, bloody check this blog! I want to know what you truly think! Let's have a dignified debate. Please. (plz?)

On another note, I STILL haven't finished The Vampire Lestat! It's a good book but hard to get through when there's so much else to do at the same time. Education is taking a priority seat at the moment.

Happy reading (and replying), folks!

teeny tiny terrors (should grow the hell up)

So recently I've been going up to main school to talk to some of the teachers there (various endeavours require student-teacher conversations, it's unfortunate). Anyway, I've heard tiny tiny children (the year sevens, they'd be cute if they weren't so vicious and rude) yelling all manner of insults at each other. What is this? Why do young people not know how to argue properly any more? It's truly ridiculous, nobody ever seems to sit down and calmly talk through anything, instead it's all yelling and throwinf various things- insults, punches, chairs, and so on.

This miniscule scrap of a kid the other day yelled the words "Oi, get off me bruv, you gayboy!" I fail to see why being gay is a bad thing, something to be used as an insult, and as for all this "bruv" business, you merely sound like you can't pronounce the word broth properly. Year sevens, in short, are idiots. Anybody who can run into me at top speed (not that fast, they only have short legs, remember) and bounce off my chiseled abs (ha!) without so much as a sorry... Deserves to be shot. In the kneecaps. Hopefully with some sort of gun that sports exploding bullets, or something.

So yes, a note to the year sevens: Go away. You are deceptively small, fast, and apart from being completely cuturally unaware ("What you doing man?! That's so gay! Oi battyboy! Fuck you!"), you are ruining our precious language. You are also required to not get in the goddamn way. I have to say please more than twice and your name goes in the black book, you little bastards. I don't care that your mummy thinks you're special. Learn something. Read a book, "y'all". If you can't read, then it's no problem, not for me anyway, because then you can't read my insults. Har har har. LEARN TO READ. Learn some respect. Then, keep to yourselves. Wow.

happy reading folks!

Jobbing tendencies

I've recently found that, no matter how much you love your job, if it's on a Sunday, it can be hard to get up. How many people want to work on a Sunday? The pope and pretty much all ordained ministers aside, I can't think of many people who jump with joy at the prospect of effectively cutting their weekend short, even if it is for money.

On the subject of jobs, I've been offered another one (I really hope I get it. Though it doesn't pay incredibly well, it will actually save me money, which is excellent). I'm hoping to start turoring at school soon as well. It should be fun; I'm having to do a lot of lesson plans, as I did in the summer holidays in France, so it would be nice to put them to use instead of merely having them sitting around in a drawer.

Secondly! I'm into training season now, which means going to the gym and skating more than ever. I need a new pair of wheel for my rollerblades, as during the summer I used them all the time, and it wears the wheels out. They're not particularly safe anymore. So yes, gym training and no white bread or pasta from now on. Brown pasta and bread has a lot more fibre in it, which is great for your digestive system. The easiest way to put it is "it makes your tummy happy" (I should advertise more).

Thirdly, Christmas is on its way (I know it's about two months away but you can stick it until you've got that festive feeling!), which means I start looking for silly things to wear to entertain my friends. At the moment my favourite candidate for this purpose can be seen here. I think those things are bloody expensive for what they are, though. But fun, oho, so fun. If I were to wear them and stretch I'd not get a cold stomach! Always a good thing.

Fourthly, it's half term soon, and I'm relieved because there's a lot I want to do, like finish painting my room (it's been half purple, half white for a while now, and I'm trying to paint over all the purple and then cover it in a very light blue so it looks a bit better). Hopefully I'll be doing that next weekend. Next week is our last week in school before the week-long holiday. I plan to do a lot of work in that holiday, as I use holidays to revise a lot. I find it easy to memorise books and subject matter if I just sit and read it so holidays are fun (also ice skating and gym time, whoop!)

Hopefully some of you will click this link (below). Go to the site, at the top it says "authors", click on Nathan DeGraaf; the guy's a genius. Cheers!

http://www.pointsincase.com/

Have fun, and happy reading, folks!

In which my life is still a volatile bundle of WTF.

I found this on a piece of paper in a file in my room. I've typed it up so you can see the difference between me now and me about two years ago, when it was written.

OCD is short for obsessive compulsive disorder (which is confusing because people with it like things to be very much IN order) and though it's a sort of mental illness, though not especially classified as one, I think it's rude to treat it as an illness even if it is one in your minds, because it's bad enough knowing that there's something wrong with your mind and the way you think... but for people to spot that you have OCD or when you are told you are "wired" incorrectly, it really hurts your feelings, it feels awful.

I didn't know that I had OCD until about two years ago. It has been getting worse lately because I am tired and stressed. It started with panic attacks, then I always felt the need to change my handwriting or type things because it wasn't ever neat enough no matter how much I practised, and I also colour code things like my planner and my school files so that I feel safer somewhat. It's maddening, sometimes you can tell you're doing it and you don't mind, sometimes you can tell you're doing it and it's embarrassing and you can't stop, and sometimes you don't realise and this would be okay except that other people point it out instead of you noticing it and you want to hit them, but in my case I'd have to hit them twice.

Today I was having a bit of an OCD moment in Maths and I closed my eyes and broke my favourite pen by accident on the table and then I was mad because it was my only colour coded pen, and then I opened my eyes and I was angry. Then I closed them again. I suddenly felt sick, because I was thinking, are all the tables straight? Oh god, they're not, and when I open my eyes I will see this and it will make me cry.

Then I went to break. I just lost control of my tear ducts for a while, to be honest. It wasn't fun to cry in front of everyone but I had to because friends try to help and that was what I needed.

An example of colour coding is that *with the pen I broke* I will colour in my planner timetable on child development the colour light brown. After that, all the homework I write in my planner for CD has to be light brown too, and when I make a slip for it in my file, that's coloured in the same light brown.
So, there you have it. OCD. It's so funny for those people who don't have it, really. I'm nowhere near that bad now. I still have little things. When I'm stressed I clean my room a lot. I throw a lot of things out. My timetables are colour coded, still, as is the colour I write in my planner in. I like things to be neat. I like writing essays because they're formuleic and once you have the right shell every essay's easy.
I like to make jokes that I have CDO, like OCD but in it's proper order- as it should be. It humanizes the condition somewhat.

Most of the time I'm pretty laidback, but stress and illness still bring out weird tendencies. I tend to become very clinical. I overanalyse things, searching for meanings. No matter if I'm ill or tired or stressed or not, I always wonder what other people are thinking. Not necessarily what they think of me, but just how their minds work in general. Some things I find very upsetting or moving or important, others think are completely trivial. The attributes and qualities that I search for in people (number one being that they're educated enough to hold a good, long, detailed conversation or argument) are basically shields for how finicky I am.

Now I'm older I live by very different rules to the rest of my family. If I want to eat a lot, I work it off. I sleep in the pitch black (the rest of the family are scared of the dark). I'm awfully critical of people, especially my friends. I apparently give this impression that if someone touches me, I'll hurt them. I don't mean to; it just happens. My personal space and my room are things, places, that I protect. They're mine. My domain. My terrain. My hiding place. I like being able to come home after sixth form and be silent for hours on end. I love being able to go for an impromptu walk that lasts for hours. I love havign time to think for myself and to mull things over. I consider myself a wholewheat person. Of course I have my off-days. Even robots and computers and saints must not be brilliant or good or even positive all the time.

Sometimes I feel like there are two people in my head- the functional one who gets me through the daytime, and the deranged and dangerous one who seems to take over in times of tiredness, anger, depression or confusion. The dangerous one is terrifying. That one makes me fly off the handle. The Hyde part of my consciousness, so to speak. The Jekyll part hides away late at night and I'm left as a bit of a strange version of myself. My mum notices it; "you're not right this evening, are you?"

Nope. No. I'm stressed and frustrated and there's all this shit at the back of my mind like graffiti, it's pinned to my brain and it won't come off. I want to get rid of it. Annoying circles of thought. Confusion. Darkness. Hours of bad memories that I dream through sometimes. There's nothing like jolting awake in the dark at three or four in the morning. There's not one experience I can think of that's quite as unsettling as being able to remember my nightmares. The worst thing is they're set in this house. When I'm walking around they play over the normal background, they seem real. Like the weird body thing that's covered in blood that lives behind my bathroom door. That is alive, suiposedly. It has no skin. It creeps me out. But more than the thing creeping me out, is the fact that my mind created it. My mind has created an image, a character so much worse than anything I've read about, any horror movie or book, any scary story, any bad memory (and some of them aren't nice, I mean it). I wake up sometimes, and I'm freezing.

The days where I'm cold are the bad days. They mean I have to put on three or four layers just to walk about. Sometimes I spend all day in bed, reading. Not because I can, but because it's necessary, as the warmest place I know of.

Right now I'm alright, but ill and tired, and that means I need to sleep before I go a bit doolallytap.

Crime statistics are sexist...

In Sociology we are into a new topic: Gender and Crime. Here, we will be discussing why in 2000 (yes, the statistics are that out of date) 80% of recorded indictable crimes were committed by men. We will also be discussing why more girls aged 15-25 commit crimes than girls/women of any other age.

I think it's fair to say that, as there are an almost equal number of males and females the world over (yes, I'm generalising. Yes, I'm only taking humans into account. Yes, I'm only talking about those who are alive), the chances are less than 4/5 of all bad crime is committed by men. Women tend to look innocent, therefore rerducing their chances of being convicted with an offence. Plus, psychologically speaking, I'm sure women get mad about stuff just as much as men do. Stereotyping a bit here, but I reckon while men are yelling at TV screens the world over, women are pissed because they didn't get that last sandwich quite perfect. Could this drive them to murder? Probably. Could this drive them to GBH? Probably. Crime stats seem to be a bit sexist... Judges and juries bias the results at thier discretion (within reason, but still). Just because a man is heavy-built, with a lot of muscle or a "hardened" face, it doesn't mean he's any more capable of a dnagerous act than his five-foot tall, slim, gentle-looking wife. Or his friends. Or his parents.

My point is, women can be evil too. Everyone can do bad things if you put them in the right situation, regardless of who they are as a person. Some people, even if they try to avoid trouble at all costs, do not succeed in that endeavour. I think this needs to be realised; that we are sometimes dangerous, and not in a joking way. I've been wondering about this. If you try and annoy a woman and a man of the same temperament in the same way, which one snaps first? Well, this depends on a number of factors- stress, PMT, the kids (haha, I have none!). Work life. School life. Thug life (which I hear can be a little bit violent at times). What am I trying to say? I guess it's the argument that you shouldn't bit e the hand that feeds you. Or the hand that irons your clothes. Or the hand that cooks your meals/ remembers birthdays and important events/ cleans the house.

There's a joke I can use to illustrate stereotyping and pseudo-unfairness. "Why shouldn't you chain a woman into the kitchen? Because then she can't clean the rest of the house."

And one for the strange sex culture we seem to have nowadays. "If a key opens many [different] locks, then it is a Master Key. But if a lock is opened by many [different] keys, then it is a bad lock."

Women and men should be treated equally- not in a feminist way, in a fair way. If a girl hits (even jokingly) one of my mates, is it fair that they don't hit her back? No. Give her a taste of her own medicine, and show her that it is bitter. It's so stupid to let people off all the time! What are you doing if you let people make snide comments, if you let them take advantage? Unless you tell them what you think, they just keep doing it. Tell people what you really think. Do it eloquently. Speak up and tell 'em to shove off, or something. Never, ever do anything for free. If it's not going to help you (even good deeds are sometimes done to make you feel better) then why take it upon yourself to do it? Doing thigns for no reward is a chore. A boring chore. Like cleaning a building site right before the builders begin.

Message for all of you: males! Please take it upon yourselves to be responsible for your own actions. Females! The same goes for you!

Oh yes. Another thing. Stop acting like you're stupid if you're not. If I hear one more girl do that horrible, obviously fake laugh I will go insane. Dear posers, chavs, try-hards, liars and oompa loompa girls. You're not hot. You're not cool. You don't have a temperature. How does it feel?

there's one paragraph in this that kind of makes sense. The rest is... Well, I find it funny but it is a serious subject. No hating on me. http://www.pointsincase.com/columns/nick/12-3-06.htm

Happy reading, folks!

blunt-force trauma

So.
I have reasons for not doing things.
For instance, I don't really drink, and I don't go to many parties. The former is because I'm a depressive drunk and I just cry all the time (not worth it); the latter is because I inevitably wake up the next day sporting some sort of injury that could only have possible happened during the night when I was asleep, as I never remember.

Example: Today. Yesterday I had my very belated seventeenth birthday party (which was lovely, not much went wrong really) and then today I went ice skating. I've also done the majority of my homework. I consider making an effort to be good enough. Anyway, I brushed my hair when I came back from ice skating, only to find that a great deal of my head hurts under any form of pressure. I don't remember doing anything to it, but five minutes ago I touched my scalp and actually went blind from the pain. Forgive me if this seems a little dramatic, but surely that's not good? Why would my body make a part of me hurt for no reason? I don't understand this thing, truly. It feels like I've got some sort of blunt-force trauma going on up there.

So my head is confusing me. My legs feel like lead (flu?) and I've had a sore throat for a good three or four days now. Urgh. I'm not doing well these days. At some point I'm supposed to be starting physiotherapy for, my back, as it seizes up every week or so (the cold weather is going to be rather un-fun this winter), as well as going down to the BRI (Bristol Royal Infirmary, our hospital) for some sort of dermatology appointment. Good news is my teeth are straightening quite nicely still! That's something to be happy about, isn't it? Yes. Yes it is.

I wish I could have a friend on-call for times like this; I'm not sleeping very well, and it'd be nice for me to have someone to talk to... Good night, good afternoon, good evening, good morning, good day...
I know it depends where you are and when you're reading this, really.

Happy reading, folks!

"How was your day?"

Being seventeen, I'm getting to that point where I look back at younger versions of myself and think, "Why did I do that? Why did I say that? What made me think like that?". I was very different two years ago to the way I am now. This is a strange feeling. It produces almost an alienated nostalgia, because I know it's my thoughts and actions I'm looking back on, but I don't understand them.
I've decided to write a book. I doubt it'll be hugely long, but it seems an interesting and fun thing to do. I'm entitling it, "How was your day?" because it's one of those questions that lots and lots of people ask, when in truth they really don't care a lto of the time. It's a cursory thing, like a nod or glance in the direction of someone you don't particularly like, but have to get on with for whatever reason.

Today I went to visit my cousin. She is much older than me, I think about forty or so. No, she's older than forty. She has three children, two of which are aged eight and ten, and one who is in her twenties. The one in her twenties has just had a baby (twelve weeks ago); it's a lovely baby, a boy called Alfie. He likes to stand up on people's laps, with help. I met him for the first time today, and fed him and changed him. He's a lovely baby, quite agreeable if you keep him entertained. He's chunking out at the moment.

Anyway, after having met baby Alfie, I went to the cousin's house. The younger children still live with her. They don't get on at all; they were fighting, yelling, and every time they got blamed for something, they'd burst into tears. They had no respect for their parents. This is difficult for me to watch. At one point, the ten year old was doing homework, and the eight year old came and broke it ( a paper chain with various words on, it was quite a clever exercise). Sam is the eight year old, Jessie is ten. Jessie yelled at Sam, understandably, but he just kept going. Eventually, in front of his father, I yelled at him. I tell you, it really gets the adrenaline going when you realise you're yelling at someone else's child in frant of that person. It was uncomfortable, but necessary. I think my words were something like, "Sam, I am nothing to do with your parents and I know that, but you can't go about ruining Jessie's work. It's nothing to do with you whatsoever. It's not your class, it's not your work, it's not your subject. Leave it alone."

Good job on my part? I think so. Jessie got her homework finished, Sam was told off again for trying to ruin it, (he did this twice) they both threw stuff and broke stuff, and cried. They are ten and eight. I agree with their father. I wouldn't be able to stand it for much longer either. They need to be separated, preferably by miles and miles, for a large number of years. Until they both grow up to the point where they can handle themselves, because right now, I'm not going back to that house again. For a long time.

So, I was being driven home by the family (all four of them arguing around me). I had this urge to speak up and say, "You know what? This is bullshit. This is bloody ridiculous. Why are you letting your children fight like this all the time? This is five-year old stuff. They're not growing up, they have no manners (If you've ever seen a child shew with his mouth open while talking, let the food fall out of his mouth, look down, laugh, pick it up and eat it again then you can begin to understand). Just be more firm."

I know it's difficult, parenting and all, but people need to put in more effort. Face it- if you want children, you're going to be quite poor. You'll not have a lot of free time. You'll always have to be there.

Both my parents work full-time jobs. They're not together. I barely see either of them. We don't really talk all that much. Please, if you're going to have children, spend time with them. I am so lonely at home, if I have a problem I never get to talk to my mum about it because she's not here. When she is here, there are others here too. I always try to ask her, "How was your day?"... The easiest way to make conversation with someone is to get them to talk about themself. The point I'm trying to make is, mum, I love you, but I'm fucking tired of being so far down your list of priorities.

Good things, bad things.

Today wasn't too bad. I haven't really done much (despite having been in school for six hours, even teachers can't draw upon their deeply buried reserves of productivity on a Friday). I went out for a cycle; something I haven't done for a long time. I think I might start training properly again; it's pretty fun to see how fit you can get if you set yourself a goal.

So, open day tomorrow! Good thing. I'm looking forward to it. This one's at UWE, in Bristol (the city I live in), so not far to go to see the campus, and I'll feel a bit more at home than I did on some of the other open days I've been to (cough, cough, Edge Hill). The day starts at ten, so I plan to get up early, eat breakfast out, and then go and see the uni. I hear it's pretty good for Law; we shall see.

Point one about today.
I was walking home, as you do, and there was this girl behind me. I think she must have been on her way to paralysis, or death, or something...Perhaps she was bitten by a snake? Had she broken an ankle? Was she suffering from such muscular atrophy that it caused her to walk weird? Of course not. But STILL those feet, those feet I wanted so badly to turn around and stamp on, they were scraping against the ground as if she had one of the above afflictions. People, listen to me very carefully. If you are scraping your feet against the ground when you walk, either go see a doctor or CUT IT THE HELL OUT. It is annoying. It is frustrating. It is unnecessary. You see those weird bits halfway down your legs? They're called knees. Use them. Please. For the love of God. Walk properly, you absolute dolts.

Second point.
To quote Chris Addison (funny guy, youtube him), "you could be my soulmate, you and I could share everything and have endless meaningful conversations, [etc, etc,] but if you're wearing Ugg boots, you can fuck right off". This is true. They are called Uggs because they're ugly. They look awful. They make you look awful. Shoes should either have structure or be flip flops. Not be dead animal mush that has a foot-shaped hole in it. Thank you.

Third point.
Girls. Leggings are meant for wearing with either short shorts or skirts. You can't wear them on their own. We can see your VPL (visible panty line). They make you look highly unattractive. Unless you are participating in some kind of sport which calls for both flexibility and warmth (ice skating or some kind of messed up Antarctic gymnastics, perhaps), then you look like a douche. Especially when coupled with that weird way of standing that you do where you put almost all your weight on one leg. This doesn't make you look cool; quite the opposite. You look like some sort of idiotic flamingo that hasn't quite worked out how to pull its leg all the way up, OR just like one of your legs isn't in fully functioning order. But back to the leggings; either take 'em off and give guys the good view and not essentially a pirate copy, or wear somethng over them so it doesn't look like you've forgotten a piece of lower-body fabric that really should be there. Cheers.

I think that's my rant over for today. Apologies. Well, no, actually, no apologies. If you fall into one of the above categories, sort it out, because it makes you a twat of epic proportions.

Happy reading, folks!

High fives and can-can kicks all around!

Not only did I yesterday finish a ridiculous amount of homework (I'm not whining, the teacher actually apologised for it at the beginning of the lesson), but this morning I received note that I've been chosen to represent my schools (I go to two different sixth forms) by the Debating Society. Score one for me! I was tempted to high-five the teacher who told me, but I thought yelling a rather loud "YESSSS!" would suffice.

Apologies, dear readers, for not having informed you of the audition for said society on Monday, but I wasn't completely sure I'd be accepted and therefore thought that to jaunt was to flaunt too early in the game. Had I not gotten the place, I would have had to explain why, etc., etc. hence my silencio on this little matter.

Secondly, I've cut my hair again. I like it better short as it's easier to deal with (not very short, obviously; I don't want an afro!) especially in the winter when a little bit of neck-coverage is important to keep out those nasty chilly breezes.

I'm in love with four-colour pens and big coats at the moment. I don't go well with wool and fluffy bits, though, but I do have a stunning winter coat. For any girls or guys out there who don't have at least one coat that falls almost at the knees, you don't know what you're missing. I love that coat with a passion I didn't know it was possible to have for anything other than hot, considerate guys and chocolate. You can quote me on that.

However, it has been so darn hot in England today, that there's no need for a coat. Or a top. I walked home in a shirt and bra today (and jeans, yes). It's ridiculous; my body is gearing up for the winter and then this happens?! I thought I was going to turn into some sort of melanoma-riddled prune at any moment! What a great travesty English weather is. We complain when it's hot, or when it's cold, and when it's raining, we always talk about it. SHUT UP. It happens all the time (note my terrible hippocrisy laid out bare for you all to see)!

Secondly, revision tip: find your favourite learning method, people! It really helps your memory. Alternatively, improve that noggin of yours by joining lumosity (google it) and having a go on there. If nothing else, it's a fun and possibly pseudo-constructive way to procrastinate.

If you're having trouble with procrastination methods and tricks, go to this website and have fun.

It's elemental, my dear...What, son?

You can all chide me for terrible title, but I think it's funny so tough stuff. There is a point to it, actually. If I'm completely honest, over the years there have been a few people I call my close friends, and they've stayed with me, but quite seriously a lot of the people I know just aren't that interesting. It's not that nothing happens, I'm sure lots of things happen to them that they find interesting; it's just more that the things they find interesting, I find boring. So, perhaps they're more acquaintances than friends.
Anyway, one friend I've kept in contact with is 22 23 8 3 (look at the title and figure it out if you can). We got along for ages and then there was this long break when 22 23 (for short) got into trouble with drugs and alcohol. Anyway, it seems she's out of that phase, which is great because she was such a lovely person before, she just made some daft choices and that led her down a treacherous path. Thank god she fell off it, though. I talked to her today and she sounds better.

Anyway, yesterday I was walking home and I saw 22 23's older brother (the older older one, not the younger older one). He's much more focused on work now as well, and it's nice to see that a year or two makes such a huge impact on somebody's life. Of course it does. Even catatonic people must experience some tiny fragment of change over two years.

I've been wondering for a while whether I want children (totally unrelated subject to the above), and what kind of lifestyle I want to lead. What do I want to do? Will I get married? Will I have children? What will I be doing in ten years' time? Will I be happy? I think that's my main worry. It's not what I'll have, it's whether I'll appreciate it. I see so many people here in England who spend their time complaining... Of course, sometimes bad things happen and you can feel a little down, but most of the time I think it's much better to see the good side. Walk away from depression. It doesn't have legs, it'll take a very long time for it to catch up with you if you're content.

I'm still reading this cracking book (The Vampire Lestat) by Anne Rice. I've also fallen even more in love with a band I'm interested in. If you don't already know them, I highly suggest you youtube Rizzle Kicks. Sylvester and Rizzle are amazing (not their real names, I'm sure you've guessed). They mix rapping, remixes, instrumentals of well-known tracks, and singing. They are ACE.

Not particularly good if you want to concentrate on homework though. I have a classical music playlist for that.

Questions welcome on any aspect of this post or any other post, as always. I doubt I mentioned it before, but I like questions.

Happy reading, folks!

P.S. I'm trying to work out what my worst habit is. I'll report back when I find it.

Recklessness and stupidity

I've realised a lot of things about myself in the last week or so. Firstly, I really need to start going to the gym again, because I've developed a liking for burgers. I refuse not to eat the things I like, so to make up for it, I make sure I'm doing enough exercise. I'm no slob.

Secondly, I just can't talk to guys. This will bug me for a long time now. The thing is, once they know you like them, it's alright, because you're not a total idiot all the time (well you are but they at least know why). I'm not doing well so far.

Thirdly, if I don't do homework, no matter what I'm doing I do get a bit bored eventually. Which kind of sucks. Today I had the fucked up experience priviledge of having to restart a piece of homework after an hour's work, because I hadn't read the question properly. Sometimes I hate myself enough to restrict chocolate. Turns out, the essay wasn't on criminal liability, it was... Well, the title is "The term recklessness plays a vital role in determining criminal liability, yet its meaning appears uncertain. Critically analyse the meaning of the term recklessness in criminal law".

That is painful.

Fourthly, school takes it outta me. I'm dying. I'm so tired every weekday evening, sometimes I go to bed at nine. I find myself looking at the clock at seven thirty and thinking, "Would it be socially acceptable to say goodnight now?" Of course it wouldn't. I refuse to go to bed that early unless I'm ill. Unfortunately (or not, depending on how you look at it), I am almost never ill. I wish I were ill a little more often; it's so peaceful in my room during the day. There is, however, one major problem with sleeping when it's light outside. I can't. I like my room to be as close to pitch black as is possible before I sleep. I unplug everything except my alarm clock, and I plan to unplug that too once my bodyclock wakes me up at seven every morning. I'm looking forward to not relying on technical what-nots to wrench me from sugarplum dreams; I want to be capable of doing that myself.

I've been wanting a bit of change for a while now; I think I'll cut my hair soon. I know it's getting towards winter, but trust me, with this amount of head fluff, hats are difficult to find. Ones that fit comfortably, at least. Currently it's shoulder length. Dark, dark red. With a blonde streak (I was testing the dye for a friend. It blonded my hair more in ten minutes than it did hers in an hour and a half). I got completely rid of my old computer. SWEET! So much more room on my desk for porn mags homework and school books.

I'm going to go to bed, you know. Sorry for the boring post. To make up for it, watch this. It's hilarious :D

Happy reading, folks!

P.S. I'm loving this cross-through thing, useful. I could have a lot of fun with it... And I probably will.

Four random suggestions

So, I posted a status on Facebook, tagging a friend and telling her I would write about a genre she suggested. Three people answered, and argued, and came to the four keywords I have to write about now. Which are pretty difficult.

I got Romance, numbers, cats, and pregnancy.

Right.

So I've looked up some cross-subjects to make it a bit more intriguing. Did you know that cats have a maximum gestational period (the time they are pregnant for) of 69 days? BAM! The average is about 63 days. I doubt cats are very romantic. I mean, sure, they look all sleek and feline, but nobody's special if everybody is...Right? I mean, imagine two cats going on a date. You've got your tuna, your cream, maybe for a show they'd watch two chickens fight to the death or something... It would be awesome. I still doubt cats have romance in the same way as humans do. I mean, for one thing, you know if you get pregnant and you're a cat that you're going to have more than one teeny tiny yowling mouth to feed...but it costs you nothing. Cats don't work much. They can chill with their friends and parents and generally do what they want. Most cats prefer to be alone, so I can't see long-term relationships working.

Back to the cats dating thing, though... What do they say? Do cats have pickup lines? Are they all, "Yo, baby, you're looking sleek!" or do they say things like "Nice whiskers!" to get another cat's attention? Do they high-five? (answer is yes, lots) ...There are many possibilities we have to think about here.

Anyway, real human pregnancy is pretty rough too. Much longer than catnancy (yes, I deem it a new word, the latin for which is felinus pregnatus), human pregnancy usually lasts about 40 weeks, or nine months. Catnancy is closer to nine weeks. I would rather have catnancy, because at the end you get this adorable cute little fluffy thing. Usually two or more, actually. In fact, up to eight.

I want a cat, mainly because they're independent, and mainly because I watch loads of videos of them doing stupid and funny things. But I want a microcat. I guess, if they were real, they'd be the same sort of idea/concept as micropigs, only fluffier and more miaowy. Yes, miaowy.

But, ah, romance! To find someone you enjoy spending time with, you feel safe with, that person you can talk to about almost anything, and laugh with even when things are going truly terribly. It'd be nice to find someone like that, but also my grades would swiftly decline from their currently lofty position, I reckon. Still, though, I'm sure there are guys out there (or girls, if you're a straight male or a gay female) who will make it worthwhile.

Note, due to my common sense, and having watched such movies as "The Ugly Truth", I would say that creating a list of criteria is NOT the idea. Stop designing your other half, you freaks. Let it happen the way it happens. People who are over-particular really limit themselves. I'm limiting myself to this: must be smart, must not be lazy. I think that's pretty good. I reckon cats probably have those same ideals.

Oh god, I'm going to be a cat lady when I'm older, I can feel it now. At least we'll have good miaowversations. (Damn, I'm good.)

Some more numbers...

36, the number of weeks we are in school in a typical year.
17, my age (and my shoe size plus eight)
11, the age of my favourite cousin.
5, the numnber of times I have dyed Aggie's hair.
168, the hours in a week.
3, the number of subjects I'm taking this year.
3, the number of children I want (a long time into the future!)
2, the grazes I have at the moment.
180, the number of tests I have to mark tomorrow.
136, the number of red noses in my room.
54, the number of barbies I had up until I was abut twelve.

Happy reading, folks!

P.S. You can comment and suggest other genres if you like.

You know what really grinds my gears?

We've been back at school for two weeks now. I have to say, though there's a lot of work, it's enjoyable. There's a sense of routine and accountability that you completely don't have in the holidays. I think that, considering this will be my fourteenth consecutive year in full-time education, I'm starting to feel lost when I'm not learning, when I'm not in the classroom.

That being said, there are some things that really grind my gears about being back at school. Such as, you're able to see your friends on a regular basis (obviously not 100% good from a work point of view), but there are people at school who... Well, frankly, whom I would have killed a long time ago, if I knew I'd never be found out. Having observed the workings of a school system from both sides (I have done quite a few teaching placements with different year groups), it's perfectly fair to say that students are total cocks. We seem to endlessly insist that thigns for us are done first. We always want our way. We don't take no for an answer. We bug and bug and bug.

The main problem area I've come across this year is the student who asks stupid, blatent questions to which there are obvious answers, and then goes berserk if the answer given is not to that student's liking. There is a fine line between annoying banter, dear student, and behaviour which will seriously endanger your life. I wish someone could have taught you your grammar better as well. I never want to hear the words "you was" come out of your mouth ever EVER again. God, you'd think you hadn't been listening all the way through primary school.

I'm hoping you've all heard of socialisation. If not (tut, tut) then the quick explanation is that socialisation is the process through which an individual learns how to fit into society and live within the boundaries of that society's norms and values. Your parents are responsible for your primary socialisation- that is, they socialise you to talk and not to (putting it bluntly) do such things as piss on others. Anyway, I stray from the point.

My point is, there seem to be students in the sixth form who simply were not socialised by parents or school or society. They stand out. They are notorious, famous, popular because they are interesting, intereting because they do stupid things that others find funny. These students have bad attitudes.

I don't mind it if you don't want to work, but please don't stop me. I really need good grades. All I want to do is work, ice skate, and write my blog (and somewhere in between some food and rest, those are good too). So yeah. That really grinds my gears. We have a fine educational system, for free, and these kids are wasting it. I wish they wouldn't.

On a lighter note, there have been no more gigantic spiders in my room! YAYS! Though now I've said that, the chances are there'll be a King Spidey moment in a day or two. I've run out of energy; goodnight!

Happy reading, folks!

Eight - legged eeks!

So, I have a big piece of work due in tomorrow on omissions in Law. I've been writing it for about a week and as I've written it I've created a references page and everything to go along with it. Well, tonight, I was doing exactly that (fine tuning takes about six hurs or so) and I decided to do it in my room.
Now, last night I was writing on a bit of paper in here and I made a mistake, so I screwed it up and threw it on the floor. Like you should. And of course, it was still there this evening. I bet you're thinking that piece of paper continued to be useless, no? Well, no. No, this paper saved me tonight. It provided a vital alarm: the ArachAlarm!
So there I was, typing away like my happy nerdy little self, in silence (save for the clicky-click of my keyboard) and what should I hear but this strange little noise at my feet? What could it be? Well, I'll tell you, it was the most fucking ma-HOOOOOOsive spider I have ever seen in England, save from in the zoo. But I wasn't thinking this at the time, no, not at all. Indeed, what I was actually thinking was "Holy shit, where's the nearest glass?" and seconds later, "FUCKING HELL THAT BASTARD MOVES LIKE A LITTLE EIGHT-LEGGED BULLSEYE!"

The eek-attracter, this huge intruder, this offending arachnid with visible eyes and thick legs with hair as long as my eyelashes, it stopped in front of my wardrobe. I thought that finally one giant beastie might be easy to catch. But, it had two leggies underneath the wardrobe already, and I could tell he was a teasie beastie. Bastard, bastard beastie. Teasing me, this horrific eight-legged eek ran under my wardrobe. I called in back-up in the form of my twelve-year-old kind of sister. Aside from giggling a lot at my obvious terror, she also resorted to making comments such as, "Wow, his legs are reeeeeally long..." to lighten the mood. I told her I'd formed a plan. All this time, I'd been thinking, though. I'd had on my mind that any spidie-widie large enough to crumple paper under-hideous-foot was probably a little big and burly to be messing with using the conventional methods.

The plan meant taking apart my chest of drawers and moving it away from the wardrobe, therefore giving the beastie a faux chance to escape. After half an hour of grunting and moving heavy furniture on my part (there's a bookcase on the chest of drawers), the bastard made a break for it... straight into a glass. My terror... it was mixed with pride. I had not screamed once! I am still proud. I did swear a lot.

This is the third or fourth spider in my room of this size (I think this one was the king though, as it was a lot bigger than then previous one I caught). I like to think I am becoming more equipped to deal with them; I always have a glass, I always have my shoes on, and my room is tidy (usually) so I can see them from a distance. This one nearly got me; the adrenaline rush was the only saviour my body gave me. The thing to remember, folks, is that fight is better than flight in these cases, becuse if you fly and then come back and it's not there anymore, that's a shame. A shame because either you will have to put
your house on the market, or simply board off that room (and any with connecting doors).

These eight-legged eeks cannot win this war! They should not! We are hundreds, thousands of times their size! And yet they are terrifying. Did you know most people fear spiders more than they fear death?

For those of you who need someone else who knows (or those of you who save us all the time and shock us with your amazingness when you pick up spiders in your BARE hands- a wonderful trick and talent!), clicky here. I swear to you, I love this because it defines me quite well- certainyl in Autumn when more eekies come into the house (due to deteriorating weather- they hate rain even mroe than you do) and I have to deal (or scream and run) accordingly.

This is the last spider, about a week or two ago. The one tonight was about one and a half times this size... To be honest, I didn't keep the first one, so I can't check. Let's just say, the one today left me literally almost unable to form words.

Happy reading, folks!

P.S. This is my bedroom after tonight's little incident.

Fatal Considerations of the craziest kind

Aside from growing up making the majority of us taller, heavier and in many cases more immature (the gained knowledge can only work to a perverse advantage sometimes), there are other things we adolescents have to deal with. Such as Sod's Law.

This bastard of a concept mjust have been spawned by the devil. Basically, for those of you who do not know, the concept that Sod's Law summarises is "if it can go wrong, it will". So be it that I'm a negative thinker from time to time.

Back in May, we were preparing for our AS exams, perhaps working hard... perhaps hardly working. I joked to some friends that I'd probably mess up for no reason other than sheer bad luck. Well, it just transpired that I was to nearly expire the week before we started examinations. I chucked myself off my bike; onto grass, yes, so perhaps not the worst strategy, but certainly not the wisest. In the fall, I lost my glasses, some of the free movement in my neck, and also a nice purple hoodie I had come to treasure. The paramedics were lovely, though, and friendly. And they didn't slap me when I got all woozy. Anyway, I ended up with a concussion, the repercussions of which were that I had to somewhat re-learn much of my courses. Which would have been wonderful if I had not accidentally forgotten an entire half of the Politics book. I got an E.

Anyway, Sod's Law cropped up again a couple of weekends back when I was going to attend a Law course. Planning to leave the house at five a.m. on Saturday, I did a cursory check of how my laptop was working. I came to a rather downtrodden conclusion that, as it completely failed to start, and then kept coming up with error messages saying FATAL! FATAL!... It wasn't going to work too well. I spent two hours fixing it.

The next morning, my mother and I got on the train. The wrong train. Hence, we missed our train (upside: the one destined for Taunton, and not London, didn't leave with us on it). We got on a half-hour later one. That one left just fine, and arrived just fine. The PreLaw course was good; I got there with time to spare, learnt a lot, and left with interesting information to mull over.

We went for a bit of upmarket banter and had a chat in Harrods. Everything was expensive; but of course, it being London, it was awesome too. Then we went for dinner. Overnight I went from fine to absolutely fucked-up ill. Every couple of hours I would wake up and retch for a bit, and then go back to sleep. The Sunday morning was awful, I was in a terrible mood... The rest of the weekend passed without event, but the night was just crap.

Back to the present, this morning my neck and back were hurting (the result of the bike crash and a couple of car crashes I've had in the past). I left the house quickly, and walked quickly... Obviously I began to overheat a little, due to the heavy bag and the hoodie and coat I had on. I took off the coat and the bag, to put the former in the latter. It was at this point that I realised the bag wasn't my school bag. I had no books. Shit. Almost in tears from the neck pain, now standing halfway between school and home, I thought "fuck it".

Having done this, I went through lessons (only with partial success) and then broke my brace at lunch. My teeth fucking hurt. I'm tired. The two redeeming factors of today were accidentally having spare keys in this wrong bag I took to school... And the book I was given for my birthday, which I am reading at the moment. "The Vampire Lestat". AMAZING book. Anne Rice is a literary goddess and her stories provide me with much time-filling brilliance. Well-plotted, well written, with flair and general awesomeness. I might even start thinking positively!

Happy reading, folks!

Aaaaaand BACK to the future!

So basically before the holidays we were doing a lot of stuff at school to prepare us for university, for having to apply to university, for alternative options, etc. etc. (i.e. THA FYOOOTYAHHHH) and we had to fill in UCAS forms online, including where we wanted to apply and for what course (and so on and so forth). I did mine pretty early, got most of it done by July 25th (except the personal statement bit and some other stuff) and then I got the WHOOP WHOOP ONCE IN A LIFETIME invite to go to UCL (in Laaandaaan!) for a couple days, for Law, my favouritest subject in the whole wide world aside from ice skating (okay so favourite academic subject). So, I'm going there tomorrow. It's to prepare for the Law course at uni and the LNAT I'm also going to take to get into a couple of the unis who want it. Not all do. It is the National Aptitude Test for Law; obviously I'm hoping to pass with flying colours.

There is, however, a catch. Well, kind of two. A) I have to get up early tomorrow morning - so I should really reeeeally be asleep right now... five fifteen, baby. Ooh yeah. I like the smell of a painful awakening in the morning... ugh. B) it's the weekend before we go back to school- I usually spend this weekend chilling out, instead of spending lots of money to go to Laandaan (woo!) and stay in a swanky hotel with my muzzer, as she insisted upon accompanying me. C) (added erkness) I have to wear a skirt. Now, while I like my legs all that much (okay not THAT much), it's gonna be bloody freezing and I doubt there will be large quantities of cream of chicken soup to ease the pain. Mllluurrgrhhh...

So yeah. Five fifteen. It's quarter past midnight now... so I have five hours. Wh-- Oh, sod it. Goodnight folks, and happy reading!

Accumulation of timetable

Well, I've got my timetable. I had to decode part of it, not pleased but I got there in the end. I have double German first thing on a Monday morning- the only thing that is really annoying on the whole two week schedule, really. Nine out of ten days I finish at one, which is good because it gives me plenty of time to go out and do other things (besides the huge amount of homework I know I will have). I'm pleased, I never have more than four hours of school in a day. Well, I will, much more, but most of it won't be structured class learning. For sociology our class is quite large, as well as for Law, but German has a maximum of six on a good day so there's lots of time to make sure work is of a high quality.

I'm truly glad that we start school soon, because I'm over bored. I did some more drawing...

I also did a Codeword. I love codewords, there's barely any way to cheat (barely) so they take a while, which is the entire point. I'm still trying to fill time. The drawing does this as well, because I don't want to be doing things that are half-assed. I've made a small wall montage out of some of my artwork.

So there you have it... My not-so-interesting life for today. Oh, yes, the news! UpstairsMan actually managed to not have sex last night. I was shocked and in awe of his sudden restraint...considering he's been bloody loud every evening for the last week or so. Happy days.

Also, I was unintentionally very rude to someone today. Now wondering how to make it up to her (apparently spoke in the wrong tone of voice). She was really pissed off.

Happy reading, folks!

Time filling

I've taken to time filling. For those of you who don't know (most of you, I guess) I barely passed my Art GCSE. I can't draw observationally. Not well, at least. And I can't imitate other artists' styles, which is what they asked us to do. Don't think I was idiotic to take the course if I so blatently couldn't do all the things we tried to complete for classwork and coursework... I actually signed up for ceramics, but we somehow ended up with the wrong teacher - one who wasn't qualified to let us play with clay, as I so kindly put it. This teacher and I didn't get on at all, to be quite frank. I went to a maximum of thirty percent of those lessons. For most of that thirty percent I messed around. It was great, honestly.

So, to prove to you I can draw (somewhat, they're kind of little designs I do when I'm bored but have paper and the right equipment to hand) I'm going to put up some images of the stuff I did today.

So yes, there you go. The last photo, with the three boxes, has what I call a "feathered" effect. It takes about five minutes to do a box, and they're about three or so centimetres high and a centimetre wide. I love being able to just sit at a blank piece of paper and draw things like this; I'll try and put up more pictures of some of my older work. Today I started using a cotton bud (pic. 1) and very sharp rubber (cut off larger slab, picture 1) to help with blending and precision. They're very useful, though you have to be careful with the amount of graphite you use because it goes REALLY far on the bud! I use one end of the bud to sweep graphite on (so I load it first) and the other to sweep it off (creates a softer, lighter lookk without using the eraser). I had fun.

Happy reading, folks!

P.S. School tomorrow, kind of. We'll be getting our timetables. I hope they're not killers. I shall voice my contentedness (or lack thereof) tomorrow...

The price I pay

When people talk about paying the price, that's something of a double entendre, though usually neither of the meanings is dirty in any way. Take my current situation for instance. I'm figuring out how much "paying of the price" I'll be doing in terms of university at the moment. Let me tell you, currently, it isn't looking pretty. I really hate the fact I have to pay up to £9,000 a year just because I can't go to university until 2012. What a load of bollocks that is. Thank you so much, mother and father, for waiting so long. Your excuse is "you waited until you were financially secure". I would rather have grown up a bit poorer and not be about to have such a bloody massive debt on my shoulders, thanks! But never mind, alas, you waited so. And now I must pay the price.

The other thing people talk about when they say "paying the price" is usually having to deal with the bad repercussions of a stupid incident which has left them somewhat in a worse situation than they were before. For instance, those of you who have been reading this blog for a while now, know that I fell off my bike a while ago. Well. Now, I can't spend a lot of time on my laptop because it makes my back and neck hurt worse than a brontosaur trying to do a headstand. So yes. I am paying the price. Thank you so much, inner idiot, for exposing yourself long enough to get me thrown from a moving bicycle at such speed that I now can't lean forward for long.

Sitting in bed hurts. Lying in bed is uncomfortable but manageable. Standing is good. But, really, I can't go for the next goodness knows how long standing up, can I? I'll always look a) overbearing b) like I'm about to make an important point and c) really bloody stupid. Wonderful. My own fault. This is completely self-inflicted.

I'm wearing a hoodie with an ice-pack wedged in the back. Stylish. My whole body feels weird. It hurts, it doesn't hurt, it twinges, it's wrong. Blegh. I think I shall go and have a bath.

Happy reading, folks!

P.S. I will NEVER watch "The Price Is Right". Ever.