Day 1 of 30...

I never really introduced myself on the blog so I'm doing that now. 

Day 01 - A recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself.

1] I'm quarter Jamaican. Year round tan, woohoo! People don't guess it because of my blue eyes.
2] I don't get along with my dad at all. I never have, really. I do not remember a single day where we've had a conversation about a) anything relevant, or b) anything that wasn't related in some way to his work or to alcohol or my mother.
3] My mother is like a sister to me; we form a comedy act rather than a family as such. We're interesting and better together than each on our own. She is teaching me to be arrogant.
4] I love sport. I ice skate, I love Netball, I cycle, I rollerblade, sometimes I go to the gym.
5] Sunny days immediately make me happy, no matter what I'm doing.
6] I despise my family because they are racist and stereotype people, and they are ungreatful for all the opportunities they get. I aim to change my last name soon, to my mother's last name.
7] Bread with butter is good. Bread with conserve/jam is good. Bread with both is disgusting!
8] When I'm upset or nervous I dye my hair.
9] I managed to spend £210 on coffee over Christmas. Ah, the realms of Starbucks.
10] I think about my grandmother every single day. She passed away in May 2009 and I miss her more than I thought I would. She was wonderful but I didn;t see that as much when I was very young.
11] I have no style at all. I just chuck on things and try not to wear clashing patterns. All my jeans are ripped unintentionally and nearly all my shoes are trainers/skate shoes. I loathe hats.
12] Lie-ins bug me, I feel the only time I should take them is when I'm ill.
13] I write a lot. Not just for school, but at home as well. I have books full of thoughts.
14] I sometimes wish i could just move to the South of France and stay there.
15] I don't know what I want to be or do; when I was little I wanted to be two things- my mother (literally) and a hitman (Or rather hitwoman. Assassin. There you go).

So yes, welcome to...er... Me, I suppose. Hello there. Yodel. Bonjour. Hallo. Wie geht's?

Busy days (and evenings...nights... all-nighters...)

I've been doing a lot of things recently, from buying magazines (Elle, spring fashion, which I'm not obsessed about but I love the flow and line of so many summer clothes), to books (Private by Jammes Patterson and The Killing Place by Tess Gerritsen). I'm quite into my crime novels. Over the summer in 2010 I started reading again ( as in reading for pleasure as it's very relaxing) and I've got through quite a few books. I reccommend James Patterson's "Swimsuit", chilling but good. Henri is a great character- and I remember him from July/August so he must be a strongly written one as well. I find crime and murder novels are often full of those much-coveted "dar adjectives" that people look for when writing "spooky" short stories.

Reading is an excellent way of naturally broadening the range of vocabulary- particularly as I keep a dictionary in my room. It's there mainly so I can look up any word I find that I'm not sure of or just completely don't know, which seals my absoluteness in using the word. There is nothing worse than people who use the wrong words, especially in their mother tongue. There are plenty of children and adolescents whom I have spoken to, whose grip of the English language is quite appauling. Seriously, honestly, if you must speak it (and those of you who are obsequious enough never to shut up, this applies especially to you), please do so with courtesy and respect for a language which is so diverse and cultured. Sure, we've stolen words from other languages- sometimes not even changing them from their originals (such as etcetera [etc.], doppelganger and versus [v or vs.]). But please, PLEASE... I hate to hear those so-often-used phrases that have been conjured up out of Grammar hell;

"Where you to?"
"I need to go toilet."
"I didn't do nothin'!"

I must apologise, but there is not another way to put this. I won't try a nice way. You sound hideous. You sound like an uneducated, uncaring person. And unfortunately, most of the time, that is exactly what you are. I've heard, in my Law class (somehow I thought it would be brimming with conscientious individuals- evidently not) questions such as "What does 'in jest' mean?" and phrases like "You was". This is ridiculous. Pull yourselves together! Please!

There are also fads blooming around Britain that result in conversations which frankly and earnestly try to use "tru d@" (instead of "true, that") and "wubu2" (instead of  "what have you been doing recently?"). I would say "lol" but it would make me just as bad. You can't criticise people if you're then going to go on and become one of them.

I ranted in text that a cashier hadn't taken the safety tag off my clothing and one contact replied "just take it offf youuur selfx". "What the heck is that?" I thought. It's literacy murder, is what it is. I sent her this: "What's with all the misspelling and weird double/triple letters? hard to read much?" ( I didn't want to seem too prim so I put a smily at the end, ":D". She replied, quite irritatingly, "nooo thaats just how i writee". I am shocked and alarmed by this. I am sixteen and for five years I went to school with this girl. Now I talk and write like this, and she writes like that. I'm tempted to tell people that when they write in this ugly, mangled way, they look like idiots. And, to be fair, I'm also tempted to add that were they to talk to me like that I would probably assume they had some sort of mental defect. It's just not natural to want to cut up and stick your language together worse than a two year old does. Were I to say the words "ain't" or "init" in this house, my mother would quite literally give me what I like to call the "stare of patronising parental concern" and immediately ask if I was feeling okay. Which I wouldn't be, I would be feeling annoyed because I'd said such awful things.

My parents are split (not divorced, split) and they never brought me up to talk in an inhibited or strange way, except perhaps the old-fashioned language. And they seem to have instilled within me, their one and only child, the feeling and need to be literarily intuitive. By which, of course, I mean that I can actually write and speak properly. My Polish boyfriend knows WAY better english than most English people do, and that's something he and I bonded over- a loathing of the impudence here. It's horrible. People tar all of us with the same brush, the English. And while I'm not going to exactly speak out far about it, (mainly because most of England won't understand...) I will say this:

Please educate your children. Please educate them well. Then let them make themselves proud. They'll make you proud too, and it will be to your merit.

Time and speed are different...

The amount of time I have to do things is usually a lot more than the time it takes to do them. Washing up, eating, watching Television- all of these things are done very fast in my world. This is because i am trying to minimise the amount of time I spend with the conspirators. This is the nickname I have for the people in my household. From now on I will try to refer to them collectively as this as it will help.

Anyway, today, I was trying to wash up and afterwards I came stright into my bedroom and wiped my red, soapy hands on my quilt cover. This is how low I am beginning to feel- I would rather do that, than ask somebody where the teatowel (dishcloth) is. I just can't seem to spend a lot of time with these people. It makes me feel very isolated.

Today at dinner I knocked a piece of broccoli out of the bowl. So (having no serving spoon) I picked it up and put it back in the bowl. My mother shouted at me. "But, mother," (I reasoned) "I wash my hands before the meal and the mat is clean." She said that other people would not want to eat the food after I had touched it. She also had a go at me for taking seconds. I wasn't- But the good vegetables are at the bottom of the bowl so I waited for everybody else to get theirs (suckers!) before delving in myself.

The other thing that pissed me off at dinner was the three of them nattering away over the news, which is an important thing for me to know about, as my A-Levels revolve, for the main part, around current affairs. However, the conspirators insisted instead upon ruining my viewing experience by the means of potatoes. Never was there such a conversation to drive me mad as one about potatoes! I am sitting there getting more and more infuriated but I know, I know if I so much as open my mouth to say "Be quiet please" they will all get annoyed at me. Usually they tell me off for talking over the news. Anyway, the two adults are talking about why she likes Aunt Bessie's potatoes and he doesn't. This is a stupid conversation. I think of asking them not to waste their precious words on such a trivial matter, but it occurs to me that by verbally acknowledging the exchange I will sink as low as them. So I stay quiet. But this conversation lasts for ten minutes. "This is ridiculous," I think. "Ten minutes? Of your life? On potatoes? REALLY?! You will probably continue to talk about them in bed this evening, or maybe email each other about it or talk about it while you sit next to each other at work tomorrow."

Mother always complains she doesn't get a moment of rest. She is the same as her mother was. They make up things to do and then when they get ill and can't do them it doesn't matter and those acts they say are so needed, are actually rather inconsequential. And it makes me wonder, "Did you ever need to do it at all? Or do you just like being stressed and busy and filling your time?" I am also ashamed this has not been passed down to me in some way. It is like I am missing the right wiring. I think very differently to the others. I don't tell my friends my true opinions sometimes because I know they will be outraged. It is silly really.

I am beginning to think that they want to drive me insane. Perhaps I will change this blog's name to "The Insanity Chronicles". Perhaps not. TIC is an awful acronym for a blog. Not that EION is much better. EION looks like an electrical company. Damn it. I am being finicky. And therefore, I finish communication for today with a hearty (slightly mad) farewell.

But first! I have been reading a new book. In the last three weeks I read Jilly Cooper's "Jump" and Richard Hammond's "On The Edge: My Story". Both quite good. Cooper is brilliant at fiction. This week I am reading a book my Marina Lewycka called "A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian". Excellent. It is excellent. I highly recommend it, provided you can stand the strong characters.

Happy reading, folks!

Fooling around?

Today was meant to be a homework day. Tpday was meant to be a day where I got up, had something to eat, and then set about the tasks I have been assigned in school. But it wasn't destined to be.

Instead, got up at eleven thirty. Went rollerblading, awesome, very tiring (nearly wrote anstrengend there, which is the german word for tiring...) came back, took off socks (trust me on this one - in rollerblades even when it is one degree outside your feet boil!) and then went out to meet a friend. We went to another friend (mine only, non-shared connection) and I bought a huge amount of goat curry and jerk chicken. I then proceeded to eat it while walking home very slowly. Once home I put all the bones in a saucepan and boiled them in water, adding stock (chicken), pepper and some dried herbs. After twenty minutes, I strained the mixture and put it in a mug.

Four hours later, having read my Law book (a few pages), watched some T.V. (House to myself!) and caught a hamster (younger child is annoyingly easily distracted and forgetful), I returned to the now-chilled soup, warmed it, put some bread in it to bulk it up a bit, and had it for dinner. A note here, folks. NEVER eat three hundred grams of spicy goat curry and jerk chicken on your own. And then repeat said spicyness for next meal. I feel... SO regretful right now... Plus, don't add insult to injury by drinking Dr. Pepper. It's... Just not a smooth move, don't try it, you will feel like you are about to explode and it will ruin the rest of your day. It... I can only describe it as something close to the feeling if you eat a mento(s?) and have a few sips of coca cola. It is rather unpleasant. And you spend hours feeling like a blimp. Fun? Not really...

Anyway, actually, my main effort for this post isn't to complain, it's to make my boyfriend love me more (uh-oh) by saying that the T.V. I watched (and ended up being fascinated by!) was Top Gear.

For those of you who don't know, it's a car-themed Television show where an absurdly tall man (Jeremy Clarkson: opinionated, funny, sometimes stupid and slightly unthinking), an absurdly shorter man (Richard Hammond: also funny, brilliant, but seems different after his crash in a car at 200mph...) and a strangely old-fashioned man (James May: generally made fun of by the others, but really, really awesome- even if those clothes are from long ago) all present together and get set daft tasks, while maintaining a huge degree of fun in explaining even the most complicated car. This may sound somewhat boring. However, to me, the girl who, until now has had little interest in cars and such, this is a revelation. There is nothing to me so pleasing as finding out that if I pursue this I will be able to talk to Mr. Wonderful about much more without him worrying about boring me. And I'll understand it.

Today they let James drive the Vauxhall Insignia VXR. [[vauxhall‑insignia‑vxr‑23‑06‑09.jpg]]. I think it looks beautiful in black. I think most cars look better in black. There is something more professional about them... Anyway, it has three drive modes, Normal, Sport (hardens up suspension a little to say the least), or VXR, which means the throttle control is touch-perfect and the suspension is an animal. The difference is stratling, fun, and I can see that letting anyone like my racing friend Nick loose on this car would see it returned looking distinctly....out of puff, to say the least. I know men who will happily crash cars for the sake of finding out what it takes. Seriously.
Also, they named the Car Of The Decade... (Old episode, you can see) For 2000 to 2010, their choice was (drumroll) the Bugatti Veyron.

[[http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.supercars.dk/cars/bugatti/bugatti-veyron.gif&imgrefurl=http://www.supercars.dk/bugatti/bugatti-veyron_d234m27.aspx&usg=__w6f8ZV5ShhLifRegNhhQQcgigSk=&h=1024&w=1280&sz=553&hl=en&start=0&sig2=FBbhw4iop2L8f_DGA2-tOA&zoom=1&tbnid=yGSlI29H_Qf-BM:&tbnh=128&tbnw=147&ei=wchETaOEMcGwhQfw4723AQ&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dbugatti%2Bveyron%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1024%26bih%3D574%26gbv%3D2%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C38&itbs=1&iact=rc&dur=943&oei=wchETaOEMcGwhQfw4723AQ&esq=1&page=1&ndsp=15&ved=1t:429,r:2,s:0&tx=62&ty=83&biw=1024&bih=574]]

It's beautiful. And yes, it really is worth copying and pasting that code into your search bar.

I have to say though, and everyone will forever know this of me... Buy me an Audi R8 and I will love you. Not that I can drive (legally, theoretically or really....Yet...) but, that, folks, is not the point.
 Tomorrow will be a work day. Ugh. Wish me luck.

Happy reading, folks!

Priorities... They don't make sense much.

When I'm bad at a subject at school I don't enjoy it, so I work less at it, and more at the other subjects, and then it falls further behind in my "realms of achievement and joy". Look, everybody, another phrase for a place in my head that I JUST made up and will.... Probably never use again. Oh dear. Never mind; I digress.
Politics (that is, "Government and Politics"), one of my chosen A-Levels, is beginning to more than just annoy me slightly. It is now getting to the point where I think that maybe on Tuesdays and Thursdays, for those few effort-filled hours (in vain, usually), it would be nicer, less stressful, and more peaceful, if I were to cease to exist. That would be just grand. But no, I feel a need to put myself through this torture.

Is this an English person thing? It seems that we do things, as a race, to create more problems and to piss ourselves and others off. If there's nothing to complain about, then we complain about the lack of having anything to complain about... Which technically nullifies our argument, but there you go. The English are not a very, er... Logical race. We have many words for the same thing. Look up sex in a thesaurus and you will feel one of two emotions; ecstasy at how many words there are, or outrage because there can't be opportunities to use them all, can there? Anyway, I'm trying to illustrate that English people can be quite daft. Our language is daft. Someone once said it was compiled by "three blind Germans and a dictionary". Not far off, my noble friend.

We English like to have things our way. I like to sleep the wrong way up on my bed when I'm stressed. This manifests itself in the fact that every night for the past week I have turned in my sleep. Last night I literally said "sod it" and just put my pillows up that end. I was happy. I am happy being mad. Madness creates a sort of shroud; people don't go near you as much or look you in the eye, for fear of you going crazy or them seeing how truly wicked you are, respectively. Anyway, we complain about the rain and the cold all the time, me included, and I'm fed up of it. I'm not fat, but I'm not thin. I don't really get all the cold, I don't get the freezy-freezy feeling that makes you feel you could snuggle up to some frozen peas and feel warmed. It doesn't happen like that. But, despite having lived all my life in England, I am still forgetting how cold and rainy it is, and to be honest I complain about it all the time. But I love it secretly.

Anyway, yes, priorities. Mine have been a bit jumbled. Balancing home and school would be easy, if I didn't have other stuff to do as well... I do (try to do) a lot of sport. But, I got fired from my job (ill for two months, no, they didn't like that much... And I really was...) so I have, genuinely, no money. So less sport. Which means excess energy. Which means I'm not concentrating in school. I haven't done much homework in weeks- sure, I do the odd spot when I feel like it, but mainly my afternoons and evenings consist of sitting in my bedroom trying to work out how quickly I can read all the books on my shelf. Or dancing. Or on the phone. Or on youtube, and facebook, and failbook, and failblog, and doing random reading. As you can tell, homework does not take the gold plinth in the competition of important-ness.

My mother has been feeling quite awful for a while and a few days ago (I say this, I mean two weeks. Time passes oddly for me) she went to the doctor, who did some superficial tests, nothing dramatic. But they found something was wrong. She now has weird medication. It looks nasty. She's tired all the time, and had/ has to go to hospital for tests as well now. Stressful. Also, her boyfriend (who has lived with us with his daughter since June 2008) has a heart condition. We went on holiday to France and he got a fruit salad. Uh-oh- grapefruit. Nopedy-nooo. Not on his medication. He was not a happy fruit fly. Add these to the fact his daughter has some weird skin issues which mean she itches all the time and has to use steroid cream (which doesn't work) and hair cream (which thankfully DID work and managed to stop her going bald and get her hair to grow back).

My mum has this policy. If she finds a little hairball, she puts it in the girl's schoolbag. So far it has been effective at stopping hairball droppage around the flat. I think it stems from the fact that quite frankly no twelve year old girl wants to open their schoolbag to have what resembles a tiny poodle falling out. Let alone thirty of them. Think of all the tiny leads you'd have to buy!

Anyway. This means my priorities are now...

Sleep
Mum getting better
Mikolaj
Sport
School
Work
etc.

Hence, my...Er... priorities perhaps aren't wuite in order. I suppose it's finding that balance between what you want, and what you actually don't want to do now, but you know will be better in the long run.

Also, Tuesday night, I almost forgot, mum and boyfriend had HUGE argument. I mean, this was four hours of whisper-yelling in the kitchen until it got to the point where they were both going crazy and she was having a cigarette every ten minutes. I have never liked her smoking, it's kind of gross in my opinion, but there's not much I can really do. Once you know the risks, it's in your hands, I suppose. They yelled about EVERYTHING (almost. I mean we're not getting into any quantum huge random subjects stuff here, but most of it was about trust and money and love, and all that other crap you never want to hear the adults that run your household arguing about). It was dreadful. They were up until almost three. I was sleepy. That was the first night I turned my pillows to the bottom of the bed. It was fun to wake up and think "What the-oh, it's all okay. Never mind." Also, the second morning, I woke up real fast and got up into the wall (forgetting I was round the other way). Started the day with half-hearted nosebleed. Nothing gets you up quicker than blood seeping out of your face though, fun!

Thanks for reading, folks!

*Muffled scream*

Apologies for not having posted in nine days, I have been at least partially put off by two main factors: bloggy-blog's suckiness at saving and posting when I ask it to, and the ongoing domestic we seem to be having in our household.

First off, Mr. Wonderful did something magic to my computer and now the huge, old, whirring box I have in my room, actually has a virus protection system, which is good, because I hadn't updated it for two years (sometimes I really just don't think about how important something is). The turning point came when I tried to go on a school website, using a link through google. Trust me, when you click that link expecting "Term dates" and get something a little more along the lines of "Tits and dames" you start thinking maybe a firewall is, after all, something useful and efficient and not quite as daft as it sounds. The avast I have now is wonderful and updates every day, and the best bit of it (sorry to revolve around money for a bit) is the fact that all this clear-up was free. Brilliant for me!

Secondly, this was why the blog refused to update so the fact I can now type this with confidence is a milestone in my computer's (limited) development. Whoop!

Thirdly, I've been a little battered-not in the fish sense- the past few days. On Sunday night my father rang... the gist of the conversation was that he didn't know where his black jacket had gone. I quote... "I bet your mother gave it away. The bitch, fucking bitch..." At which point I interrupted and told him I couldn't listen to that any more, and gave the phone to my mum because I had no idea what he was talking about. He went kind of mental at her... He does that sometimes. Dad moved out a week before my tenth birthday. I'm seventeen this coming June... Does anybody in their right mind keep a jacket this long? No, sorry.

Monday night, more trouble. This time the little sister decided that telling lies wasn't such a bad thing even when she had no idea what she was talking about- for reference all you need are the words "naked, sex, bad, disallowed" and compare them with what actually occurred which was "fully clothed, stupid question, bedroom door already closed, fuck off". That was only the start. Next, the parents came home. Ohhhh, that wasn't fun. Mother comes in. Mother says she knows it didn't happen. Mother and her boyfriend argue over this- he doesn't believe his sweet little... bundle of joy... could lie to him. Guess what though, it's happened before. It'll happen again. He never gets angry at her for it and he never tells her off for anything. Argument peaked when mother's boyfriend managed to bring his own daughter's lies round to the assumption that I had lost my boyfriend his job, he had lost me mine, we were bad influences for each other. Why couldn't we follow the rules? My mother was a good influence for him, etcetera, etcetera. It was ridiculous. I dimly recall shouting something like "you have no place in saying that, this is stupid, once again for having done nothing wrong I am reduced to fuck all, thanks for fucking nothing" and walking out.

I made mistakes. I left my keys, mobile, and the majority of my money at home. This prompted my mother to call my boyfriend at around quarter past eleven, asking him if I was there. Not ony was the answer no, but also this meant that Mr. Wonderful went a little insane too. I can see why- a sixteen year old girl disappears into the night, there's no way to find her and, to top it all off, mum didn't have my new mobile number... Not that it mattered, I'd left my phone at home...

I went to talk to the father of a friend. He set things very straight. He also said he was scheduled to talk to said friend this Thursday, about her excessive drug use. And the fact that no, he wouldn't give her any money. She got three Cs at GCSE. Get into College, check. Then she failed to attend.Quit College, check. Point is, He found me on his doorstep at eleven,sobbing and freezing cold. We had a cup of tea. Lady Grey. Good stuff. I went home, not realising the trouble I'd caused with my mother... Who was outside smoking and crying non-stop. When I came round the corner from our house she half collapsed onto the pavement. It was the worst I have ever seen her, not even when my dad hit her or when her mother died or when her dad died or when I snapped my leg (clumsiness), was she one tenth as bad. It was like seeing her die, in part.

We went inside, back into the flat. Warmth was good. I said, "You can slap me now." She said, "Call Mikolaj." That was all she could get out until I'd finished the phone call. Bad phone call. He picked up the phone...

"Hallo?"
"Hey."
"Where have you been? Are you okay? Why didn't you pick up your phone?"
"I forgot it again."
"Wonderful."
"Sorry, I love you."
"I love you too. The amount of adrenalin I have in my bloodstream now isn't going to help me sleep much."
"Sorry, darling."
"I love you, go to bed, I'll see you tomorrow."

Before bed mum was quieter, she came into my room and said sorry about the evening. I said I was sorry too. Domestics are never fun. She told me to sleep, I said could I read for a bit? Fine. Yes. See you in the morning, I love you, sleep well, all of that. The niceties. I slept.

I woke. The phone, Mikolaj, good morning! Distinctly more cheery attitude, definitely better day. I have my mock German speaking exam today. Right. Shower, toast and nutrigrain for breakfast, cycle to school, school stuff.

Checked emails in school. One from mum. It was good to have some sheltered contact. She said,
 " I am so sorry that you have been made so unhappy. My day is going ok biz wise. I did go to visit bamps and grandmas grave this morning (made me happy but reminded me I haven't planted any bulbs which I meant to do!). I am trying to come up with a solution that makes us happy and gives you and I the space we have lost but still need. No great answers yet but cannot bear another evening like yesterday. Love you xxxx and thank m for being there for you from me." It made me feel a little better that she was as confused and upset as I was.

Exam, okay... Cycle home in the rain. Meet Mikolaj outside Sainsbury's. Good surprise. Leave bike at Sainsbury's, go home, bake cakes. Ignore homework. Be happier. Today has been good. I still want to scream but there is a little bit of progress.

One piece of advice. If you decide to walk out from home with the intention of coming back later, no matter how angry you are, don't forget you might want keys, money, and your mobile. They can be vital.

Happy (if not freaked out or weirded out) reading, folks!

Lots to do

It seems that despite revising nearly all day I haven't got far, so Law revision is goig  to cut into my sleep time tonight. Wish me luck and hope that I have fun, peeps!

By the way, I did do a post yesterday but it malfunctioned slightly and deleted the entire thing. The post was about the A-Team and Tom Morello having submitted a brilliant end credits song. It's called the A-Team Blastoff Suite. the only bit you;ll find on youtube is an instrumental, though.

Also, I said to Mr. Wonderful that today should be a work day and it means I haven't spoken directly to him all day... Unsurprisingly I feel awful now.  Bed and revision....Whoop?

Happy reading, folks!