Saturday 17 December 2011
Thursday 15 December 2011
THINGS I AM HAVE ARE LEARNING
i technically go to university (i never actually go) and i've just kind of realised that one of those exam tips they give you about actually turning up? genius. don't know why i didn't think of that. i was too busy watching the oc at home and drinking coffee, i regret nothing by the way that was the best idea ever, and now i have an exam tomorrow and i don't really know what i'm doing. so blogging about it is really helping, obvz. here is what i know about the early modern period so far
- francis bacon wrote some essays about science and philosophy
- they were dead good
- thomas more wrote utopia in latin to unify the catholic church except now everyone thinks it's about communists
- is it funny to call communists pinkos? i find it hilarious but admittedly i'm not great with the whole oops that's not pc sometimes thing
- the catholic church in the 17th century had some beefs with itself and martin luther nailed some shit to a church door about protesting the earthly nature the religion was taking with all the catholics loving bling and shit and he called for the religion to move more towards spiritual fulfillment
- that sounded dead proper
- loads of english queens and kings fought about what religion the country would be which is why i like henry viii cos he literally just went 'what i can't divorce my wife? well I SAY I'M THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH AND THAT I CAN' that is the best reasoning i have ever heard of in my life, bravo siR
i think that's all i've taken in from the whole semester so once again well done me you've really outdone yourself last time. it was a fluke last year when you did the exact same thing and passed the exam, it's not going to happen this time i hope you know that. you have terrible luck you know that you never ever win on crane machines.
KATE'S GUIDE TO REVISION 2K11
1. don't ever listen to a word i say and listen to this song over and over and over
for extra funsies i am singing KATE when he sings PRINCE because i really am funky
Tuesday 18 October 2011
occupy ball street
i know literally nothing about this occupation stuff except:
it's happening in wall street, and now other places, and now my town centre
it's about the lack of government regulated banking/ outrage at 1% of society (bankers) fucking up economy and expecting 99% (not bankers) to pay for it
i think it's a protest of some kind
obviously what i do best is to charge relatively uninformed into a hot topic public debate, brashly make bold statements, refuse any correction or advice and pigheadedly insult anybody who challenges me. SO
it's cool that people are doing it and all; i understand, i am part of the 99% not being a banker and all. i think what happened economy-wise is unjust because the bankers never actually got any handslapping at all and continue to award themselves bonuses while everyone else has their income slashed. this may be biased since i'm from england and sociopolitical (BIG WORD) unrest is at a massive high, and everyone hates the government so much that everything has sort of ground to a mad halt. i think people don't like obama very much at the moment and sarkozy and burlusconi are pretty much shitsacks anyway, so this whole economics thing is terrible timing like diahorrea on a first date. so all the dreadlocky type activist soy people have taken to the streets as usual because they will do it for literally anything, except now normal people have joined them. with tents and everything. i believe kanye west was there, although probably accidentally because he is a moron. everyone is being angry and finally doing something after being so monumentally shat on by banks, except it's pretty misdirected. just being in the street is not occupying it. i thought that's what petitions are for, all that jazz. i'm not a bastard, i just think being in a street is not going to change anything. i'm sitting in my house and that's not doing anything, so why if i am sitting in the centre of the city is that going to make a difference. it's like when people do the 'repost this status if you care about child abuse' thing on facebook, which is worse than not doing anything, because you're calling attention to a horrid thing, then pretending that you are actively involved in changing this thing, but not actually contributing anything at all because you're a stingy dick and all you think this issue is worth is a status on facebook. robin hood tax is something i'd be happy to protest for, so are the monumental nhs cuts david cameron promised he wouldn't make (THE DICK) and government regulated banking and or sanctions for the bankers who did all this. i just wouldn't sleep in the street to do so. i don't think it changes anything. but then again says me from the country where civil unrest leads ultimately to the pillaging of trainers and xboxes. but at least i'm not a faux activist.
-n.b i have a bank account and am thinking quite seriously about emptying it and keeping all my money in my house because i think i'm more paranoid than i have ever been and that is really saying something
it's happening in wall street, and now other places, and now my town centre
it's about the lack of government regulated banking/ outrage at 1% of society (bankers) fucking up economy and expecting 99% (not bankers) to pay for it
i think it's a protest of some kind
obviously what i do best is to charge relatively uninformed into a hot topic public debate, brashly make bold statements, refuse any correction or advice and pigheadedly insult anybody who challenges me. SO
it's cool that people are doing it and all; i understand, i am part of the 99% not being a banker and all. i think what happened economy-wise is unjust because the bankers never actually got any handslapping at all and continue to award themselves bonuses while everyone else has their income slashed. this may be biased since i'm from england and sociopolitical (BIG WORD) unrest is at a massive high, and everyone hates the government so much that everything has sort of ground to a mad halt. i think people don't like obama very much at the moment and sarkozy and burlusconi are pretty much shitsacks anyway, so this whole economics thing is terrible timing like diahorrea on a first date. so all the dreadlocky type activist soy people have taken to the streets as usual because they will do it for literally anything, except now normal people have joined them. with tents and everything. i believe kanye west was there, although probably accidentally because he is a moron. everyone is being angry and finally doing something after being so monumentally shat on by banks, except it's pretty misdirected. just being in the street is not occupying it. i thought that's what petitions are for, all that jazz. i'm not a bastard, i just think being in a street is not going to change anything. i'm sitting in my house and that's not doing anything, so why if i am sitting in the centre of the city is that going to make a difference. it's like when people do the 'repost this status if you care about child abuse' thing on facebook, which is worse than not doing anything, because you're calling attention to a horrid thing, then pretending that you are actively involved in changing this thing, but not actually contributing anything at all because you're a stingy dick and all you think this issue is worth is a status on facebook. robin hood tax is something i'd be happy to protest for, so are the monumental nhs cuts david cameron promised he wouldn't make (THE DICK) and government regulated banking and or sanctions for the bankers who did all this. i just wouldn't sleep in the street to do so. i don't think it changes anything. but then again says me from the country where civil unrest leads ultimately to the pillaging of trainers and xboxes. but at least i'm not a faux activist.
-n.b i have a bank account and am thinking quite seriously about emptying it and keeping all my money in my house because i think i'm more paranoid than i have ever been and that is really saying something
Sunday 16 October 2011
i totally wrote something
We lived in a tall, sweaty house on the outskirts of a grey town; we kept a cod called Moriarty in a scratched lobster tank on the kitchen windowsill, and I grew sweet peas on the balcony to disguise his wet odour. Michael periodically cried with Moriarty. He said he felt as contained and by his thoughts as Moriarty was by us and he felt like a hypocrite. The drinking left Michael blanched and his eyes reflected what fermented in his guts. When he drank, he drank cheap bourbon, and his eyes became full. Full of sadness, full of confusion, tears, hatred. When he was sober, his eyes were dry and empty as two green highball glasses, waiting to be full again. I loved Michael because despite his drinking, his was the nature of boyish wonder and innocence. His friendship with Moriarty had been the first thing that attracted me to him, because it seemed so pure. He sighed when Eileen on the floor below us would scream at her dogs and call them bastards, and I loved him for it. He didn’t love me back. He claimed he had Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and was unable to truly love anything. I knew he was fond of Moriarty, but I wasn’t even sure is he was straight if he could be classified as anything at all. After all, his bleached white hair and high cheekbones were the envy of many of my female friends, and he was known to favour velvet leggings and dusty red cowboy boots. He held the same contempt for girls with too much makeup as he did for boys with hoop earrings. The closest thing to sexual attraction I ever saw him display was a fascination with a white stone statue of a water nymph in our local park. It basked in the brassy circle of a fountain, elfin limbs and pre-Raphaelite features perpetually glistening with filmy water. With the shoulder length curls and lean figure it was impossible to decide which gender it was, which in retrospect was probably what attracted Michael to it. He sat by it intently, as if waiting for it to speak to him. The way he looked at it was the way I wished he would one day look at me; with beatific fascination and lust, and all those things women want to be looked at with. I would sit by him knitting scarves or tying blankets together out of strips of old bed sheets and curtains. When angry confused teenagers stuck chewed gum to the statue’s face or spray-painted luminous symbols on it in some mysterious code, Michael would sulk the whole day. I followed him constantly, watching him and slopping milky coffee from Cuppa Joe’s down my front. Cecilia-Delia scorned our living situation when I asked her if she thought he could fall in love with me. ‘He’s above love’ she would say, ‘the only things he loves are himself and hating everybody else.’ Of course she was right, but loves makes fools of us all. I worked at a cheap DVD rental shop, and while I scanned membership cards and ate stolen chewy popcorn, I’d pretend that I’d go home to those highball glass eyes full and wet with intoxicating love for me, and that I’d feel as wonderful as the statue in the fountain.
Sunday 11 September 2011
lkjkjsdhsd
one morning she woke up, and her life slid out in front of her like a silk gown. one morning she felt like a sock, moulded to fit something living and real and protect it but empty and pointless without it. there was no meaning to anything anymore. veronica twisted and coiled on her bed in her cold room feeling like a naked model on a circular revolving stage. the absense of anyone visible left her feeling like a hundred million silent eyes watched from every corner. head arched backwards like a koi carp, veronica lit a cigarette, because she thought that was what the eyes would want to see: girl so dishevelled, so disaffected, so ennui and chic.
the dinner had been a mistake. not that it's a dinner when it's at a restaurant that brings you a plastic bib with your lobster and sugar sachets with your coffee, but to all intents and purposes it was an evening meal. same difference she supposed. the transition into adulthood in the kessler family was marked with an event, a party or a meal. veronica's eighteenth birthday had been such an occasion. her parents and siblings had presided over a table laden with pots of relish, paper napkins, casual insults, rude questions. for a table that sat seven it seemed like six against one. one of veronica's elder sisters, diana, had spilt her plastic goblet of corky red wine across the tablecloth and the stain had spread like fire down veronica's white dress. the event, though minor, was representative of the whole evening.
veronica looked up at the clock; nine eighteen a.m. since moving into her university halls she had rarely slept through a whole night because of the surrounding post-adolescent cacaphony of dull bass, testosterone roars and general drunken howling. but last night she had lain straight down on her bed and soundly slept for ten hours. surely not to happen again, but pleasant. the sticky wine stain on veronica's dress peeled from the duvet while she twisted again to accustom her eyes to the hesitant morning sunshine. like shirley temple as a child, the world apppeared to be hidden behind a fine sheet of gauze that blurred the edges of everything. whether it was the skyline pulsing gently or veronica's head, she didn't know.
the dinner had been a mistake. not that it's a dinner when it's at a restaurant that brings you a plastic bib with your lobster and sugar sachets with your coffee, but to all intents and purposes it was an evening meal. same difference she supposed. the transition into adulthood in the kessler family was marked with an event, a party or a meal. veronica's eighteenth birthday had been such an occasion. her parents and siblings had presided over a table laden with pots of relish, paper napkins, casual insults, rude questions. for a table that sat seven it seemed like six against one. one of veronica's elder sisters, diana, had spilt her plastic goblet of corky red wine across the tablecloth and the stain had spread like fire down veronica's white dress. the event, though minor, was representative of the whole evening.
veronica looked up at the clock; nine eighteen a.m. since moving into her university halls she had rarely slept through a whole night because of the surrounding post-adolescent cacaphony of dull bass, testosterone roars and general drunken howling. but last night she had lain straight down on her bed and soundly slept for ten hours. surely not to happen again, but pleasant. the sticky wine stain on veronica's dress peeled from the duvet while she twisted again to accustom her eyes to the hesitant morning sunshine. like shirley temple as a child, the world apppeared to be hidden behind a fine sheet of gauze that blurred the edges of everything. whether it was the skyline pulsing gently or veronica's head, she didn't know.
Friday 2 September 2011
self q & a: does my life suck or rule?
kate, i see you're up at three in the morning on the internet in bed again. are you happy about this or ashamed?
well, i am both starving hungry and ashamed of myself for not being able to have regular sleeping patterns (becoming a bat person) and also defiantly proud of myself for doing exactly what i want when i want no mum i don't want to etc. etc.
ok... well, in general how is your quality of life?
there's nothing i enjoy more than spontaneity, and that to me means a complete lack of structure. some days i will eat nothing except toast and cheap olives. somedays i will buy myself a chinese meal for two because i can. fluctuating my sleep cycles and staying up past my sleepy period at ten at night to at least three in the morning are really what keep my life spicy.
do you actually try and take any care of yourself?
i had some fizzy vitamin c today
do you do anything with your time except be a worthless bum?
i start uni again on the 19th which i am looking forward to because i get my best friend back, but i also get the other forty odd arseholes on my course, most of whom hate me anyway. and there's reading and stuff. and i'll probs be working at hmv again because let's face it, it's an on again off again love hate relationship.
do you have any friends?
pass
will you be pleased to finally have something to do when the 19th comes?
probably for about a week then i'll want to go straight back to waking up at two and watching jersey shore all day and eating ready meals
you're pathetic
i know
well, i am both starving hungry and ashamed of myself for not being able to have regular sleeping patterns (becoming a bat person) and also defiantly proud of myself for doing exactly what i want when i want no mum i don't want to etc. etc.
ok... well, in general how is your quality of life?
there's nothing i enjoy more than spontaneity, and that to me means a complete lack of structure. some days i will eat nothing except toast and cheap olives. somedays i will buy myself a chinese meal for two because i can. fluctuating my sleep cycles and staying up past my sleepy period at ten at night to at least three in the morning are really what keep my life spicy.
do you actually try and take any care of yourself?
i had some fizzy vitamin c today
do you do anything with your time except be a worthless bum?
i start uni again on the 19th which i am looking forward to because i get my best friend back, but i also get the other forty odd arseholes on my course, most of whom hate me anyway. and there's reading and stuff. and i'll probs be working at hmv again because let's face it, it's an on again off again love hate relationship.
do you have any friends?
pass
will you be pleased to finally have something to do when the 19th comes?
probably for about a week then i'll want to go straight back to waking up at two and watching jersey shore all day and eating ready meals
you're pathetic
i know
lkjhdldkjas
home. home again. home, always humid and sweaty, home, always with glassy slick pavements and coursing throughout with a heartbeat of people. the train spat sunny out onto a station platform so familiar he slipped right out of it like a sleepwalker on a terrain of their own creation. the city drew him into its current, letting him pulse gently around the corners and down the steets in the great heartbeat. home was so silent and so warn after the weekend in the other city. sunny let the unfamiliarity run out of his skin with his sweat in the summer ooze, and let his muscles unclench for the first time in two days.
conrad had been cheated on and dumped again. the latest perpetrator had also been the latest 'one'. she was half-dutch and snapped her gum against her teeth so loudly you would think it hurt.
'you were only together for two months con, let it go.'
'imagine the most beautiful thing you can.'
'what.'
'do it, imagine something so beautiful that it's... perfection.'
'fucks sakes.'
sunny had imagined a young deer careering through a pine forest. he didn't know why because he didn't spend any time thinking about what he thought was beautiful, and the first thing he thought of was nature. behind his eyelids the deer's pelt glistened and the sun caught on it's dewy antlers. haunches rose and fell in sync as it pounded through the deathly still green.
'are you doing it?'
'...'
'are you?'
'.. yes.'
'what is it?'
the desperation in conrad's voice had broken sunny away from his creation, and he turned to conrad no longer prostrate in grief on his bed, but twisted towards sunny in agonising anticipation. his face was contorted hysterically and veins surged violet purple in his temples.
'it's a deer or something. i don't know. i think i saw it on dad's nature programme.'
'ok...'
conrad had sighed all of the air out of his body like it hurt him to speak.
'now imagine the deer looking around, for a stream to play in. it hears something. it's heartbeat quickens. the inertia drains from it's legs. it starts, ready to take flight, to run. and then an arrow hits it right in the eye, through to the brain. it's dead. and it'll rot on the floor, and never see another sunrise, or feel deer happiness again.'
imaginary deer felled, sunny had let his head rest backwards onto conrad's bed. conrad's infatuations were fast, intense and painful, like grease spatters from a frying pan. his emotional hyperbole varied from girl to girl, and depending on the quality of the girl. marlene with the cherry hair had been a car crash where the drivers hit each other head on and burst through the windshield, realising only in their last seconds who the other was and kissing each other into death in the air. susan holly, never just susan, was a luscious garden of poisonous blooms. petra with the ceramic horse collection and mysterious counselling books was every christmas you had as a kid, except every single present you ever open was a knife to the stomach.
the metaphors were due in part to conrad being a sensitive poet with a chest willingly left open so that his heart could be reached in seconds, and also to his undertaking of a degree in drama and performance art. every heartbreak was immortalised in monologue form, complete with accompanying tears and wretched hollow beats upon the chest, and performed to a workshop of fellow amateur dramatists.
'con this has happened too many times now. when are you going to get to be the heart breaker?' sunny had thought that mocking might be the only antidote to the affliction of grandiose emotional spiel.
'sunny, it's not in my nature to turn away from love. i open myself fully to it; i turn towards the sun like a blossom. i let the warmth kiss my petal face, and equally i let the rain dampen it.'
'and you let bees eat your face.'
'sun, don't be stupid, come on.'
'and if she's the sun and you're the flower then you're different species. and that's like beastiality.'
'beastiality is between a human and an animal!'
'you would know.'
'look, you just don't understand yet. you've never been in love, little sun. one day soon you'll be stung by love and you'll feel just like i did, before...'
'wait, i'm a bee? i thought if i was in love i was a flower? wait, why would a bee sting a flower?
'i genuinely don't know why i bother.'
conrad had been cheated on and dumped again. the latest perpetrator had also been the latest 'one'. she was half-dutch and snapped her gum against her teeth so loudly you would think it hurt.
'you were only together for two months con, let it go.'
'imagine the most beautiful thing you can.'
'what.'
'do it, imagine something so beautiful that it's... perfection.'
'fucks sakes.'
sunny had imagined a young deer careering through a pine forest. he didn't know why because he didn't spend any time thinking about what he thought was beautiful, and the first thing he thought of was nature. behind his eyelids the deer's pelt glistened and the sun caught on it's dewy antlers. haunches rose and fell in sync as it pounded through the deathly still green.
'are you doing it?'
'...'
'are you?'
'.. yes.'
'what is it?'
the desperation in conrad's voice had broken sunny away from his creation, and he turned to conrad no longer prostrate in grief on his bed, but twisted towards sunny in agonising anticipation. his face was contorted hysterically and veins surged violet purple in his temples.
'it's a deer or something. i don't know. i think i saw it on dad's nature programme.'
'ok...'
conrad had sighed all of the air out of his body like it hurt him to speak.
'now imagine the deer looking around, for a stream to play in. it hears something. it's heartbeat quickens. the inertia drains from it's legs. it starts, ready to take flight, to run. and then an arrow hits it right in the eye, through to the brain. it's dead. and it'll rot on the floor, and never see another sunrise, or feel deer happiness again.'
imaginary deer felled, sunny had let his head rest backwards onto conrad's bed. conrad's infatuations were fast, intense and painful, like grease spatters from a frying pan. his emotional hyperbole varied from girl to girl, and depending on the quality of the girl. marlene with the cherry hair had been a car crash where the drivers hit each other head on and burst through the windshield, realising only in their last seconds who the other was and kissing each other into death in the air. susan holly, never just susan, was a luscious garden of poisonous blooms. petra with the ceramic horse collection and mysterious counselling books was every christmas you had as a kid, except every single present you ever open was a knife to the stomach.
the metaphors were due in part to conrad being a sensitive poet with a chest willingly left open so that his heart could be reached in seconds, and also to his undertaking of a degree in drama and performance art. every heartbreak was immortalised in monologue form, complete with accompanying tears and wretched hollow beats upon the chest, and performed to a workshop of fellow amateur dramatists.
'con this has happened too many times now. when are you going to get to be the heart breaker?' sunny had thought that mocking might be the only antidote to the affliction of grandiose emotional spiel.
'sunny, it's not in my nature to turn away from love. i open myself fully to it; i turn towards the sun like a blossom. i let the warmth kiss my petal face, and equally i let the rain dampen it.'
'and you let bees eat your face.'
'sun, don't be stupid, come on.'
'and if she's the sun and you're the flower then you're different species. and that's like beastiality.'
'beastiality is between a human and an animal!'
'you would know.'
'look, you just don't understand yet. you've never been in love, little sun. one day soon you'll be stung by love and you'll feel just like i did, before...'
'wait, i'm a bee? i thought if i was in love i was a flower? wait, why would a bee sting a flower?
'i genuinely don't know why i bother.'
Thursday 25 August 2011
life tips
as you can see, that cat is wearing a bow-tie, and i know that you're now thinking 'how can i be as fancy as that cat?' you're consumed with jealousy, shame, and feelings of inadequacy.
well, i think it's times i taught you how to be fancy, because i am a ridiculously well organized, clean, charming member of society and i have decided it is time i devote my time to helping others to become more like me. here is proof that i am successful:
here i am featured with vic reeves, at my job that i lost
also apparently i am not qualified to clean a hotel, because my degree just isn't clean enough or something, i don't even know.
ANYWAY
i am going to impart some wisdom up in this shit, that i learnt from my mother/friends/television etc. (mainly television) so that yall can learn how to be more like me, a success e.g. crying yourself to sleep every night
1. do not, under any circumstance, get a job. jobs are for fat people. if you're valuable in any way you can find a way to make money without working for it. i am NOT talking about prostitution by the way. no, i mean basically, you're young and pretty right? so scoot that sassy little behind on over to the ucas website and apply for a student loan because for some reason people will give you money to study via drinking homemade frappes and watching tv all day. or bug your parents or something if you're too stupid for uni
2. even if you are shit poor despite having a student loan, there are ways to look like you're loaded: carry a starbucks cup around with you at all times, it can be re-used and filled with water/ gin if you are having a hard day, wear a lot of black because everyone knows black is cool ditto smoking and sunglasses (but not indoors unless you're a dick) having an excessively big purse/wallet, saying 'sweetie' or 'darling' a lot, touching peoples arms etc.
3. take vitamins that have 800% of your recommended daily allowance of every vitamin available to humanity. my great-grandmother told me when i was five that the RDAs that the government use are way way under what they should be and that if i didn't get way more vitamin C i would get something called 'polar bear's liver'. suffice to say that terrified me into taking ten times the RDA of my vitamins for probably forever.
4. if you are fat, order a live tapeworm off ebay and eat it
5. don't have facebook, no-one cool has facebook. go on something useful like a dating site so you can feel your self-worth somewhere around your ankles while you're stripping on webcam for a stranger
6. i got kind of side-tracked what am i even doing again
7. oh yeah, being successful: read shit tons of books. like all of the books. everyone likes a well-read person, i think. i wouldn't know, i am well-read and everyone on my literature course hates my guts
8. be good at cooking basic things e.g. bread, soup, bolognese etc. it gives you a sense of accomplishment. and keep jars of sauce and packets of noodles and stuff stashed in your cupboards so you don't accidently starve when you miss food-shop day.
9. take care of your eyebrows, they can make or break your face. you can spend hours applying perfect eyeliner and have ten-feet eyelashes but if you've got manky eyebrows then you'll just look shit regardless.
10. have a desk. it gives you a sense of purpose and a potential place to write if you're ever actually going to be an author like you promised yourself/gives you a place to keep your nail varnish
11. regularly check news websites and keep up to date with politics. no-one can resist a well-spoken and political-type person. i assume.
12. develop a manageable and quirky disease, maybe it'll make people like you
13. most importantly of all, keep hydrated. drink water all the time, ALL THE TIME. it makes you need to pee a lot, so people will think you have a coke problem, which is chic, and it keeps your sleep patterns and stuff regular. i cannot advocate keeping hydrated enough. it is my main beauty tip. just keep a bottle of water on you at all times and maybe one day you can be as successful as i am. i'm not promising anything but the chance is always there.
Wednesday 10 August 2011
happy barfday
i woke up this morning (every morning for a month) with an impending sense of doom. why? because in exactly 20 days time, i turn 20 years old. inbetween my suicide attempts and hysterical bouts of sobbing i've been making a birthday present list, tearing it up because it makes me greedy, and then making a new and longer one. it's been fun.
THINGS I WILL MISS ABOUT MY TEEN YEARS:
1. my formative years consisted mainly of black hair dye, being dumped by a chubby boy with broken front teeth over msn (#criedmyheartout) and my chemical romance. what will my twenties bring me? probably a mild lust for jumpers and the need to watch ER.
2. being legit skinny
3. being able to get away with murder (coming home drunk from parties, actually having a social life etc.). nobody cares anymore because i live alone and no-one buys me food or makes sure i'm bathing, hence i am starving with BO.
4. actually having to go to high school even though it was shit. at least i had things to do.
5. going to the skate park and hovering trying to pick up skaters and never actually succeeding
6. looking like this:
#thinyetroundfaced #adorable
7. watching nothing but teen dramas. i'll still do it when i'm twenty but it'll be incrementally creepier
8. everything about being a teenager is better i'm going to kill myself now
Thursday 2 June 2011
kfdhfdlkd
WHY YOU SHOULD HIRE ME:
1. i am good at reading and thinking and stuff
2. if i am not bored i work very hard
3. i make a conscious effort to shower at least every other day and hardly ever have B.O anymore
4. i am a quick learner and good with computer systems
5. i can be good at customer service if i know what i'm doing/ aren't upset
6. i can do monotonous tasks for hours and hardly notice
7. i can make paper fortune tellers
8. i always remember to say 'happy birthday!' and smile when it's someone's birthday
9. i have a really good memory e.g. mention something that happens in buffy and i will tell you what series and even what episode if i am not hungover
10. i watch so much CSI that i'm fairly sure i could competently solve a murder
11. i can buy a bus or metro pass to get to a job if i have to
12. i sound posh and thus will not scare posh people
13. i have job experience and have been proven to be good at remembering the prices of games, accessories, hardware etc.
14. i once did a really hard a level maths question in year 11 and the teacher was impressed because usually i was really bad at maths but not that day
15. i have my own phone, teeth, passport and laptop so i am evidently proficient at life
16. i do not mind scutwork and i will get coffees or sweep hair or put make-up on dead bodies or whatever you need me to do
17. i know how to make friends with cats really well dogs don't like me though
18. i am really good at cleaning and am probably borderline obsessive compulsive sometimes but you can use this to your advantage
19. i am not afraid of vomit, spit, pee, spiders etc.
please hire me
1. i am good at reading and thinking and stuff
2. if i am not bored i work very hard
3. i make a conscious effort to shower at least every other day and hardly ever have B.O anymore
4. i am a quick learner and good with computer systems
5. i can be good at customer service if i know what i'm doing/ aren't upset
6. i can do monotonous tasks for hours and hardly notice
7. i can make paper fortune tellers
8. i always remember to say 'happy birthday!' and smile when it's someone's birthday
9. i have a really good memory e.g. mention something that happens in buffy and i will tell you what series and even what episode if i am not hungover
10. i watch so much CSI that i'm fairly sure i could competently solve a murder
11. i can buy a bus or metro pass to get to a job if i have to
12. i sound posh and thus will not scare posh people
13. i have job experience and have been proven to be good at remembering the prices of games, accessories, hardware etc.
14. i once did a really hard a level maths question in year 11 and the teacher was impressed because usually i was really bad at maths but not that day
15. i have my own phone, teeth, passport and laptop so i am evidently proficient at life
16. i do not mind scutwork and i will get coffees or sweep hair or put make-up on dead bodies or whatever you need me to do
17. i know how to make friends with cats really well dogs don't like me though
18. i am really good at cleaning and am probably borderline obsessive compulsive sometimes but you can use this to your advantage
19. i am not afraid of vomit, spit, pee, spiders etc.
please hire me
Saturday 21 May 2011
Friday 6 May 2011
HI
had my final and only exam this morning so i'm allowed to blog again. well done me.
SO i was reading up on my celebrity gossip as i like to do, and i saw that cheryl cole is on the american x factor now. which amazes me because she's a geordie lass and probably no-one will understand a word out of her mouth. and also, geordie shore, a newcastle version of jersey shore has been made by mtv. me and my friend have been trailing around newcastle trying to find them but we can't, possibly because we're not utter tramps like them.
so what i have gathered is: being a geordie is in fashion! how glorious! newcastle is not that big, and it's honestly pretty gross, but here we are spawning cheryl cole and geordie shore. i am going to be really kind and thus make my own introduction to newcastle.
SOME THINGS YOU MAY NOT KNOW ABOUT NEWCASTLE
- the man who invented the ipod, iphone, ipad and macbook went to northumbria university. which coincedentally is where i study.
- mosely street in newcastle city centre was the first street in the world to be lit by electricity and the lit and phil lecture theatre was the first public place to be lit by electricity
- newcastle has the highest binge drinking rates in england, which has the highest binge drinking rates in all of europe. you wanna get drunk? get here.
- sting is from newcastle. i'm pretty sure america loves sting. everyone here, literally everyone, claims to know/ have met sting at least once.
- the first biotechnology village and consequently the leading research lab for stem cell research in the UK, the 'centre for life', is located in newcastle city centre
- newcastle is the noisiest city in the UK with an average decibel rate of 80.4 explaining why no-one understands each other
- other music people from here: bryan ferry, dire straits, brian johnson of ac/dc, the animals and yes, fucking maximo park and the futureheads. you see them on the metro all the time. i managed to serve the lead singer of maximo park in HMV at christmas and have no idea who the hell he was.
- get carter was filmed here and the pub the beehive is still exactly how it was when get carter was filmed e.g. horrible
nifty eh?
but wait, there's more!
newcastle is home to a singular dialect spoken nowhere else in the world, primarily because it is unintelligible and bizarre. seriously, it's one of the hardest accents to master in the world. in order for you to understand what cheryl cole says on the x factor, here are some helpful translations and handy phrases:
here man! (hee-yah mahn) - exclamation of anger/ surprise
well-aye (well-eye) - yes
whyaye man (why-eye mahn) - yes definitely
doon - down
gan - going
hew man (hoo mahn) - excuse me, but ruder
radgie (raj-jee) - derogatory slang for a working class person
charver (char-ver) - same as above
eeeeeeeeee... - exclamation of shock/ disappointment
tab/snout - cigarette
excuse me - what people say when they're about to abuse you
fuckin' poshie (fuckin posh-ee) - what i am called on a near daily basis for having no geordie accent and therefore being posh.
for more, head to:
http://www.le.ac.uk/ee/glossaries/2008/geordieslang/index.html
and LARN YARSEL GEORDIE LEEK ( learn to speak geordie)
some educational videos you may care to watch:
a comical interpretation of geordie. it is pretty accurate.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-JXfIV2Zpo
yes there was a skit on tv called wonky donkey. that's what it's like in england, get over it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cm8vDlj7jaU
here you go, jersey shore, but in newcastle e.g. geordie shore. possibly worse than jersey (note the number of likes v.s. dislikes)
now you're ready to be a fashionable geordie! don't say i never do anything useful on this blog
p.s. the royal wedding was shit, i don't understand why anyone here or anywhere else suddenly cares about the monarchy because it's not like they actually do anything useful. unless you count being inbred and rich as useful. so i'm not even going to write about it, because it's a waste of time.
p.p.s fucking kate middleton made me sick of my own name.
SO i was reading up on my celebrity gossip as i like to do, and i saw that cheryl cole is on the american x factor now. which amazes me because she's a geordie lass and probably no-one will understand a word out of her mouth. and also, geordie shore, a newcastle version of jersey shore has been made by mtv. me and my friend have been trailing around newcastle trying to find them but we can't, possibly because we're not utter tramps like them.
so what i have gathered is: being a geordie is in fashion! how glorious! newcastle is not that big, and it's honestly pretty gross, but here we are spawning cheryl cole and geordie shore. i am going to be really kind and thus make my own introduction to newcastle.
SOME THINGS YOU MAY NOT KNOW ABOUT NEWCASTLE
- the man who invented the ipod, iphone, ipad and macbook went to northumbria university. which coincedentally is where i study.
- mosely street in newcastle city centre was the first street in the world to be lit by electricity and the lit and phil lecture theatre was the first public place to be lit by electricity
- newcastle has the highest binge drinking rates in england, which has the highest binge drinking rates in all of europe. you wanna get drunk? get here.
- sting is from newcastle. i'm pretty sure america loves sting. everyone here, literally everyone, claims to know/ have met sting at least once.
- the first biotechnology village and consequently the leading research lab for stem cell research in the UK, the 'centre for life', is located in newcastle city centre
- newcastle is the noisiest city in the UK with an average decibel rate of 80.4 explaining why no-one understands each other
- other music people from here: bryan ferry, dire straits, brian johnson of ac/dc, the animals and yes, fucking maximo park and the futureheads. you see them on the metro all the time. i managed to serve the lead singer of maximo park in HMV at christmas and have no idea who the hell he was.
- get carter was filmed here and the pub the beehive is still exactly how it was when get carter was filmed e.g. horrible
nifty eh?
but wait, there's more!
newcastle is home to a singular dialect spoken nowhere else in the world, primarily because it is unintelligible and bizarre. seriously, it's one of the hardest accents to master in the world. in order for you to understand what cheryl cole says on the x factor, here are some helpful translations and handy phrases:
here man! (hee-yah mahn) - exclamation of anger/ surprise
well-aye (well-eye) - yes
whyaye man (why-eye mahn) - yes definitely
doon - down
gan - going
hew man (hoo mahn) - excuse me, but ruder
radgie (raj-jee) - derogatory slang for a working class person
charver (char-ver) - same as above
eeeeeeeeee... - exclamation of shock/ disappointment
tab/snout - cigarette
excuse me - what people say when they're about to abuse you
fuckin' poshie (fuckin posh-ee) - what i am called on a near daily basis for having no geordie accent and therefore being posh.
for more, head to:
http://www.le.ac.uk/ee/glossaries/2008/geordieslang/index.html
and LARN YARSEL GEORDIE LEEK ( learn to speak geordie)
some educational videos you may care to watch:
a comical interpretation of geordie. it is pretty accurate.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-JXfIV2Zpo
yes there was a skit on tv called wonky donkey. that's what it's like in england, get over it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cm8vDlj7jaU
here you go, jersey shore, but in newcastle e.g. geordie shore. possibly worse than jersey (note the number of likes v.s. dislikes)
now you're ready to be a fashionable geordie! don't say i never do anything useful on this blog
p.s. the royal wedding was shit, i don't understand why anyone here or anywhere else suddenly cares about the monarchy because it's not like they actually do anything useful. unless you count being inbred and rich as useful. so i'm not even going to write about it, because it's a waste of time.
p.p.s fucking kate middleton made me sick of my own name.
Wednesday 30 March 2011
kjhdkj
i completely meant to have a 3. at the end of that last blog, but i was typing it for aaages and ages and then the tab decided to refresh itself all like WHAT I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WANTED TO PUBLISH THAT IT WAS SHIT ANYWAYS JEEEESH
and i got angry and posted it as it was in a rage blur, not realising that it made me look like i have no conviction to finish things and am also stupid.
so.
3. i am scared to move. the night before last, i sat up until 5:30 a.m. researching the libyan conflict and the history of libya under colonel gaddafi (qaddafi? why does everyone spell it differently?) and holy hell. even though the perpetual threat of him just deciding the bomb everything to dust has been present for years and years, the fact that i myself have only just become aware of said fact has made it infinitely more likely to happen. i wish it wasn't that way, but it is.
i am pretty damn sure g/qaddafi is evil incarnate though. linked to many bombing, publicly announcing he'll fund freedom fighting and suicide bombing, broadcasting executions of rebels, hanging out with some of his fellow contemporary evil dictators (milosevic and that red faction president) and travelling with a ukrainian sex nurse are just a few of his attractive hobbies. i wish wikipedia had a built in safe mode wherein if i try to search something like 'libya' or 'g/qaddafi' it automatically links me to 'fraggles' or 'kittens' instead. but no. so i sat up in a complete panic until six in the morning, unable to concentrate on anything else, and have since been in a state of hyperawareness. i'm usually completely politically unaware, and now i know why: THE WORLD IS TERRIFYING. have you seen the shit that is happening? tsunamis? earthquakes? nuclear fallout? bombing? it's fucking awful! how i will ever pluck up the courage to live vicariously again?
and i'd like to thank the british army for dragging us all into this mess. now we are in the running to be libya's next top bomb target. thanks a lot guys, next time do a phone in vote about whether to get involved in an overseas war effort so i can vote against it and be a massive coward. seriously, if i was the british army and i saw libya throwing bombs at itself? i'd turn the other way and whistle.
4. making a g/qaddafi sim on the sims 3 and killing it might make me feel better.
5. something else, i don't even know i'm too busy trying to be really quiet so i don't die in a war or something
and i got angry and posted it as it was in a rage blur, not realising that it made me look like i have no conviction to finish things and am also stupid.
so.
3. i am scared to move. the night before last, i sat up until 5:30 a.m. researching the libyan conflict and the history of libya under colonel gaddafi (qaddafi? why does everyone spell it differently?) and holy hell. even though the perpetual threat of him just deciding the bomb everything to dust has been present for years and years, the fact that i myself have only just become aware of said fact has made it infinitely more likely to happen. i wish it wasn't that way, but it is.
i am pretty damn sure g/qaddafi is evil incarnate though. linked to many bombing, publicly announcing he'll fund freedom fighting and suicide bombing, broadcasting executions of rebels, hanging out with some of his fellow contemporary evil dictators (milosevic and that red faction president) and travelling with a ukrainian sex nurse are just a few of his attractive hobbies. i wish wikipedia had a built in safe mode wherein if i try to search something like 'libya' or 'g/qaddafi' it automatically links me to 'fraggles' or 'kittens' instead. but no. so i sat up in a complete panic until six in the morning, unable to concentrate on anything else, and have since been in a state of hyperawareness. i'm usually completely politically unaware, and now i know why: THE WORLD IS TERRIFYING. have you seen the shit that is happening? tsunamis? earthquakes? nuclear fallout? bombing? it's fucking awful! how i will ever pluck up the courage to live vicariously again?
and i'd like to thank the british army for dragging us all into this mess. now we are in the running to be libya's next top bomb target. thanks a lot guys, next time do a phone in vote about whether to get involved in an overseas war effort so i can vote against it and be a massive coward. seriously, if i was the british army and i saw libya throwing bombs at itself? i'd turn the other way and whistle.
4. making a g/qaddafi sim on the sims 3 and killing it might make me feel better.
5. something else, i don't even know i'm too busy trying to be really quiet so i don't die in a war or something
Monday 28 March 2011
1. i want the sims 3. it's literally the stupidest game ever but i desire it. why? i do not know. perhaps all the advertising has finally permeated my brain and i will drink nothing but pepsi and play nothing but the sims 3 for the rest of my little life, who knows. all i know is that the urge to create another death house to lure in neighbours and trap them in rooms full of fireplaces is overwhelming.
(for reference: http://www.somethingawful.com/d/feature-articles/sims-3-life.php)
2. i just filled in my first ever uk census form. how grand. i couldn't figure out how to work the relationship chart thing and i didn't want to call my boyfriend my brother or mum or something so i left that part well alone. i was also scared of the portion asking me about my qualifications, so i have either said i have three PHDs or maybe no GCSEs. boyfriend specified his religion as jedi and filled in the tick boxes incredibly sloppily, i assume to 'stick it to the man' in the most perfunctory way possible.
3.
(for reference: http://www.somethingawful.com/d/feature-articles/sims-3-life.php)
2. i just filled in my first ever uk census form. how grand. i couldn't figure out how to work the relationship chart thing and i didn't want to call my boyfriend my brother or mum or something so i left that part well alone. i was also scared of the portion asking me about my qualifications, so i have either said i have three PHDs or maybe no GCSEs. boyfriend specified his religion as jedi and filled in the tick boxes incredibly sloppily, i assume to 'stick it to the man' in the most perfunctory way possible.
3.
Monday 21 March 2011
which seat can i take?
hi. i have eyes, hands, and the ability to read. i can use a computer, and pay to have the internet on said computer. i have some awareness of the internet. therefore i have heard 'friday' by rebecca black.
I KNOW. I WENT THERE. fuck you vanessa hudgens, release as many nudie shots as you want and i will simply refer you to dane cook:
anywayz.
* if you haven't seen it, take a moment to acquaint yourself. learn the lyrics. think about what day it is*
the internet is foaming and churning with rage like a grecian sea in the wake of 'friday'. why? people find it irritating. it is poorly written. it marks the death of good music. it is stupid. etc etc etc. memes and parodies are popping up faster than sores on a druggie's face, and they show no signs of stopping. it's all in good fun, obviously.
NOT.
when did the internet get so mean? i mean, i know, i've read encylopedia dramatica, i've seen anonymous's opinion on everything from gays to jews. it's not pretty. but rebecca black and her plight have struck the previously believed to be dead sympathetic bit of my brain. she's a 13 year old kid and she just wanted to make a cool music video. but people are being horrible about her, like it's her that's made the video. why not blame her recording company for writing the song for her? or her agent for securing the deal? she's only little. it's not her fault. don't just pin all your hatred for anything sweet and stupid on her and turn her into a vehicle of bile. i will refer to the boxy case:
boxy recorded a spoof video of herself being pretty much an emo kid who talked too fast. anonymous reared its ugly head in anger and flamed her to hell, but that is because anonymous is a misogynistic and pseudo-machismo and feels the need to annihilate and abuse any form of female/ child. it's creepy, seriously. but there was a boxy revolution. she made people think that maybe it's ok to be cute, it's ok to be slightly irritating. it's not a personal offense that she is doing it for. she's not being funny to deliberately irritate you. and to refer back to rebecca black:
it's the same thing. she's young, dumb and full of ... smiles! (what did you think i was going to say, jeez?) calm the fuck down. stop making memes like she needs to be murdered for crimes against humanity. she's just some weird looking kid with kind of overly thick hair and a kind of awkward disposition. i feel sorry for her, honestly, imagine being 13 and getting to do your own song, and video, and being super-psyched about it, then getting torn to shreds and insulted for something you were proud of. it's just mean. i'm mean, i'll admit, but about people who are full of themselves. people who believe themselves to be the shit. rebecca black is younger even than my little brother, or cousins. bless her stupid little heart, it's just not fair. she's just having a nice time, so please just have a nice time with her and don't suggest that she cut her wrists on youtube.
the lyrics. ok, the lyrics ... are bad. like terrible. but most lyrics are! most lyrics don't make sense. vague pretty sounding sentiments are not real sentiments. isn't a kind of funny bad song enough to just make you laugh and think nothing more about it, rather than take to 4chan and conspire to bring the culprit to their knees? what does it even say about our culture that we'll damn and blast anyone who tries to do something just because it's not for us? we'll destroy anything cute and dedicate our actual time and effort to upsetting a 13 year old kid. i didn't see anything mean about casey heynes, and he bodyslammed a kid and broke his leg cos he wanted to. (i know, bullying and whatever, but honestly i tried to watch the video interview with him and his accent just grated on my brain) rebecca black is just another vehicle for a record label that wants to capitalize on justin bieber's success. so if you've got a problem with rebecca black.. take it to the people whose fault it is. how can you be so fucking stupid to not realise that making fun of her video means you're watching it; making fun of her song means you're listening to it. it doesn't make it any different that you're being 'ironic' or 'sarcastic', because that doesn't show up in the demographics. if you want to change music and what's being released, take it to the people who make the decisions. not the kids who just wanted to be cool. anonymous, stop taking yourself so god damn seriously because it's lame. have fun fun fun fun!
(lookin' forward to the weekend.)
I KNOW. I WENT THERE. fuck you vanessa hudgens, release as many nudie shots as you want and i will simply refer you to dane cook:
anywayz.
* if you haven't seen it, take a moment to acquaint yourself. learn the lyrics. think about what day it is*
the internet is foaming and churning with rage like a grecian sea in the wake of 'friday'. why? people find it irritating. it is poorly written. it marks the death of good music. it is stupid. etc etc etc. memes and parodies are popping up faster than sores on a druggie's face, and they show no signs of stopping. it's all in good fun, obviously.
NOT.
when did the internet get so mean? i mean, i know, i've read encylopedia dramatica, i've seen anonymous's opinion on everything from gays to jews. it's not pretty. but rebecca black and her plight have struck the previously believed to be dead sympathetic bit of my brain. she's a 13 year old kid and she just wanted to make a cool music video. but people are being horrible about her, like it's her that's made the video. why not blame her recording company for writing the song for her? or her agent for securing the deal? she's only little. it's not her fault. don't just pin all your hatred for anything sweet and stupid on her and turn her into a vehicle of bile. i will refer to the boxy case:
boxy recorded a spoof video of herself being pretty much an emo kid who talked too fast. anonymous reared its ugly head in anger and flamed her to hell, but that is because anonymous is a misogynistic and pseudo-machismo and feels the need to annihilate and abuse any form of female/ child. it's creepy, seriously. but there was a boxy revolution. she made people think that maybe it's ok to be cute, it's ok to be slightly irritating. it's not a personal offense that she is doing it for. she's not being funny to deliberately irritate you. and to refer back to rebecca black:
it's the same thing. she's young, dumb and full of ... smiles! (what did you think i was going to say, jeez?) calm the fuck down. stop making memes like she needs to be murdered for crimes against humanity. she's just some weird looking kid with kind of overly thick hair and a kind of awkward disposition. i feel sorry for her, honestly, imagine being 13 and getting to do your own song, and video, and being super-psyched about it, then getting torn to shreds and insulted for something you were proud of. it's just mean. i'm mean, i'll admit, but about people who are full of themselves. people who believe themselves to be the shit. rebecca black is younger even than my little brother, or cousins. bless her stupid little heart, it's just not fair. she's just having a nice time, so please just have a nice time with her and don't suggest that she cut her wrists on youtube.
the lyrics. ok, the lyrics ... are bad. like terrible. but most lyrics are! most lyrics don't make sense. vague pretty sounding sentiments are not real sentiments. isn't a kind of funny bad song enough to just make you laugh and think nothing more about it, rather than take to 4chan and conspire to bring the culprit to their knees? what does it even say about our culture that we'll damn and blast anyone who tries to do something just because it's not for us? we'll destroy anything cute and dedicate our actual time and effort to upsetting a 13 year old kid. i didn't see anything mean about casey heynes, and he bodyslammed a kid and broke his leg cos he wanted to. (i know, bullying and whatever, but honestly i tried to watch the video interview with him and his accent just grated on my brain) rebecca black is just another vehicle for a record label that wants to capitalize on justin bieber's success. so if you've got a problem with rebecca black.. take it to the people whose fault it is. how can you be so fucking stupid to not realise that making fun of her video means you're watching it; making fun of her song means you're listening to it. it doesn't make it any different that you're being 'ironic' or 'sarcastic', because that doesn't show up in the demographics. if you want to change music and what's being released, take it to the people who make the decisions. not the kids who just wanted to be cool. anonymous, stop taking yourself so god damn seriously because it's lame. have fun fun fun fun!
(lookin' forward to the weekend.)
Tuesday 8 March 2011
somethin' gruesome, somethin' awful
i'm in the middle of my third assigned essay for university. and obviously, i am taking a break, to conserve my mental energy. and having a biscuit, to conserve my happiness.
essays are so redundant. you can find essays about essays on reviews of essays on books. i therefore submit that my shitty juvenile four page excuse for an essay is a dead end. nobody is going to write an essay about this essay. if nobody is going to read my essay, let alone write about it, what is the point of me doing it? everything is futile. not to mention my essay is a clusterfuck of completely opposing ideas and random theories. it's the verbal and visual equivalent of a huge bunch of jangling keys.
my little brain is not equipped to deal with this kind of thing. i'm a creative writer, my thought process is insane and delicate and not to be senselessly exposed to so many external ideas at once. i feel like my head will get full up and i'll start vomiting words. my mind is going to crumple under the sheer weight of the task it has been dealt. it's not even that i can't do it, because i was doing it dandily until i realised that it was a futile pointless endeavour. i get distracted almost ridiculously easily, from anything, even fun things, so this essay was always doomed.
more importantly, i did something creative for once. you know, like i always threaten to but never actually do? well i actually did. take THAT, poetry lecturer who doesn't believe in me.
Sunday
I woke up heavy as a stone; as grey as iron
Hours loomed ahead smelling like coffee and wet floor,
Looking gossamer fine with their lack of consequence,
Still, a purring black happiness sat on my chest,
Green-eyed and soft,
Completely unattached to me, and unable to spread.
Spirals of some dull feeling tessellated behind my eyes,
I couldn't wipe them away like sleep or tea stains.
Yesterday sat pungently in front of me,
Stinking and decaying like any wasted day does,
The dead potential hissing as it cooled and sending up olive fumes.
I could have gone to the sea,
Gone to the fields or the hills,
I could have done anything, or maybe something.
Now my head feels like an empty teacup,
And the cat's pissed on the stairs again,
And home is so very, velvety quiet.
essays are so redundant. you can find essays about essays on reviews of essays on books. i therefore submit that my shitty juvenile four page excuse for an essay is a dead end. nobody is going to write an essay about this essay. if nobody is going to read my essay, let alone write about it, what is the point of me doing it? everything is futile. not to mention my essay is a clusterfuck of completely opposing ideas and random theories. it's the verbal and visual equivalent of a huge bunch of jangling keys.
my little brain is not equipped to deal with this kind of thing. i'm a creative writer, my thought process is insane and delicate and not to be senselessly exposed to so many external ideas at once. i feel like my head will get full up and i'll start vomiting words. my mind is going to crumple under the sheer weight of the task it has been dealt. it's not even that i can't do it, because i was doing it dandily until i realised that it was a futile pointless endeavour. i get distracted almost ridiculously easily, from anything, even fun things, so this essay was always doomed.
more importantly, i did something creative for once. you know, like i always threaten to but never actually do? well i actually did. take THAT, poetry lecturer who doesn't believe in me.
Sunday
I woke up heavy as a stone; as grey as iron
Hours loomed ahead smelling like coffee and wet floor,
Looking gossamer fine with their lack of consequence,
Still, a purring black happiness sat on my chest,
Green-eyed and soft,
Completely unattached to me, and unable to spread.
Spirals of some dull feeling tessellated behind my eyes,
I couldn't wipe them away like sleep or tea stains.
Yesterday sat pungently in front of me,
Stinking and decaying like any wasted day does,
The dead potential hissing as it cooled and sending up olive fumes.
I could have gone to the sea,
Gone to the fields or the hills,
I could have done anything, or maybe something.
Now my head feels like an empty teacup,
And the cat's pissed on the stairs again,
And home is so very, velvety quiet.
Thursday 3 February 2011
many people try and summarise what 'love' is. 'love' is a feeling. 'love' is a flower. 'love' is when she doesn't press charges. etc etc etc. but in my 19 years on this planet as a superhuman being, i have learnt that 'love' is the person who will bring you home chinese take-out and tell you that you look nice in your insane pink cats eye glasses. that is what love is. remember that for valentines day, this is pure gold here. in fact, fuck it i'm bored
VALENTINES DAY: THE GUIDE
1. don't try and be clever. don't get flowers or chocolates ironically, because it's not funny or cute. you can't go full scale ironic and expect good results because it makes you look arsey. don't buy a 'i love you beary much' bear because it's dumb.
2. also, don't try and do a super-ironic 'isn't valentines day stupid' type thing. i had a friend whose boyfriend refused to celebrate their anniversary, instead got her a tin of spam and called it their 'spammiversary'. i know it's not valentines day, but the whole crux of it is that IT WAS STUPID. she said she thought it was cute, but something tells me she was dying inside.
3. i know i'm a feminist type, god knows i have hairy legs and am angry (JOKES) but i really do think that dudes need to step it up on a v day. it's just nice! even a home-made card and breakfast in bed is free but cute.
4. no jewellery. maybe it's just me, but i hate jewellery. i hate the idea that it's valuable, and i hate the idea that all women are like crows and scream for diamonds. i'd rather have a cd or something actually cool.
5. girls, don't feel obliged to buy lingerie. it's uncomfortable, and really just ultimately doesn't matter because it'll be on the floor anyways. just sellotape and glitter or something.
6. don't, for fucks sakes, DON'T go out for dinner. it's a cliche and you'll just end up surrounded by mushy freaks staring at each other and anyway the restaurant will be full of paper hearts and shit, which is depressing. i tend to get drunk on v day to make it go away, and sitting drunk in a restaurant is just awful.
7. best v day ever: picnic on living room floor, whilst playing dead rising all night. romance is different to everyone k? embrace it.
8. wash your hair and scrub your face and maybe like trim your nails or something, and you've got ultimate v day chic. just because gift card companies and telly say that on this particular day you have to spruce the fuck up, buy a buttload of gifts and drink champagne does not mean that you do. affection can't be measured through gifts, or dresses, so just get clean and do something nice.
9. if you're single, don't be tempted to stay in and mope. it does not matter on which nights of the year you're single, so go out and get slaughtered with your friends, or see your mum, or go to the gym or something productive. don't just eat icecream and watch sad films because that's what they WANT you to do... heck if you're that insecure, just ask the homeless guy on the street to go bowling with you. memories ahoy!
see? easy. now you'll have a lush valentines day a la awesome.
VALENTINES DAY: THE GUIDE
1. don't try and be clever. don't get flowers or chocolates ironically, because it's not funny or cute. you can't go full scale ironic and expect good results because it makes you look arsey. don't buy a 'i love you beary much' bear because it's dumb.
2. also, don't try and do a super-ironic 'isn't valentines day stupid' type thing. i had a friend whose boyfriend refused to celebrate their anniversary, instead got her a tin of spam and called it their 'spammiversary'. i know it's not valentines day, but the whole crux of it is that IT WAS STUPID. she said she thought it was cute, but something tells me she was dying inside.
3. i know i'm a feminist type, god knows i have hairy legs and am angry (JOKES) but i really do think that dudes need to step it up on a v day. it's just nice! even a home-made card and breakfast in bed is free but cute.
4. no jewellery. maybe it's just me, but i hate jewellery. i hate the idea that it's valuable, and i hate the idea that all women are like crows and scream for diamonds. i'd rather have a cd or something actually cool.
5. girls, don't feel obliged to buy lingerie. it's uncomfortable, and really just ultimately doesn't matter because it'll be on the floor anyways. just sellotape and glitter or something.
6. don't, for fucks sakes, DON'T go out for dinner. it's a cliche and you'll just end up surrounded by mushy freaks staring at each other and anyway the restaurant will be full of paper hearts and shit, which is depressing. i tend to get drunk on v day to make it go away, and sitting drunk in a restaurant is just awful.
7. best v day ever: picnic on living room floor, whilst playing dead rising all night. romance is different to everyone k? embrace it.
8. wash your hair and scrub your face and maybe like trim your nails or something, and you've got ultimate v day chic. just because gift card companies and telly say that on this particular day you have to spruce the fuck up, buy a buttload of gifts and drink champagne does not mean that you do. affection can't be measured through gifts, or dresses, so just get clean and do something nice.
9. if you're single, don't be tempted to stay in and mope. it does not matter on which nights of the year you're single, so go out and get slaughtered with your friends, or see your mum, or go to the gym or something productive. don't just eat icecream and watch sad films because that's what they WANT you to do... heck if you're that insecure, just ask the homeless guy on the street to go bowling with you. memories ahoy!
see? easy. now you'll have a lush valentines day a la awesome.
Wednesday 26 January 2011
double whammy
what a treat: a small poem i wrote about falling down the stairs
Falling Over
I didn't find the step I wanted,
Gravity ceased to keep my world tethered,
All around me, splintering china,
The shards fluttering upwards from impact like petals
Drowning silently in the air,
I saw my toes; they were pink tongues licking blindly,
I became a satellite, gliding through black space,
Arms searching for a hold, fingers clumsily snapping closed over and over
Seconds later, I was a ship finding land,
Everything made painful bloody sense,
In the conclusion where I found myself
Scratched and scalded by hot tea on the stairs
Falling Over
I didn't find the step I wanted,
Gravity ceased to keep my world tethered,
All around me, splintering china,
The shards fluttering upwards from impact like petals
Drowning silently in the air,
I saw my toes; they were pink tongues licking blindly,
I became a satellite, gliding through black space,
Arms searching for a hold, fingers clumsily snapping closed over and over
Seconds later, I was a ship finding land,
Everything made painful bloody sense,
In the conclusion where I found myself
Scratched and scalded by hot tea on the stairs
hey baby, need a date?
so, something happened today. i was strutting the streets of jesmond in my fuzzy trous and a bloodstained parka, debonairly swinging a box of cat food and a packet of farfilline, and listening to the new iron and wine album which is boss, and i felt good. i felt really good. i hate my job and i'm leaving it tomorrow. i'm strutting right in (probs not in the bloodstained parka and fuzzy trous) and telling them to cram it. i need more time to read my assigned books, which i am not currently doing, and i want my sundays back. i've worked all day every sunday for the past six months and i haaaaaaate it with the passion of a thousand suns. i want to spend every sunday for the rest of my life in bed reading harry potter and leaving my hair to look like a broom. that is the way sundays should be for everyone, it should be mandatory.
so, in conclusion, tomorrow i'ma stick it to the man. everyone should do something like that to feel happy.
I AM GONG TO BE THIS ANTEATER
AND I WANT THIS DOG
LISTEN TO THIS, IT'S ACE
AND I WANT THIS DOGLISTEN TO THIS, IT'S ACE
Tuesday 11 January 2011
ahaaa
'honestly, the best things in life are free'
'no, the free things in life are free because they're shit. you can have as much free stuff as you want, which is why it's shit. happiness is quantifiable, which is exactly why everything that is nice costs money and everything that is free is shit. and it's shit because it's free. stop living in a dream world.'
'no, the free things in life are free because they're shit. you can have as much free stuff as you want, which is why it's shit. happiness is quantifiable, which is exactly why everything that is nice costs money and everything that is free is shit. and it's shit because it's free. stop living in a dream world.'
Monday 10 January 2011
mercy woman
i need help i'm fallin' again..
happy 100th blog to me! i wish i had something proper to say but i don't. ok, how about...
what kind of cheese can you use to hide a horse?
marscapone.
hahahahahaha
Tuesday 4 January 2011
do you ever think
about how people would describe you? or how you could accurately sum yourself up in words, pictures or music? i do. because i'm obsessed with myself, like a parakeet.
an event that defines me as a person: today i opened up a package containing new jeans from asos (they were on sale for £12, bitching price) and immediately put them on. then spilt an entire cafetiere full of coffee on myself, then dropped a piece of paprika chicken on my knee. that is just the kind of fuckery that happens to me.
a picture that defines me: (in which i am very drunk, very white, and surrounded by people much funnier/ cooler than i am)
so on, so forth.
i had forgotten that at one point scrubs was good. i think it was anyway, i'm only half-watching it. i'm mainly looking at www.regretsy.com which is hi-larious.
Monday 3 January 2011
'BECOMES INVINCIBLE WITH MY SPELLS'
probably my favourite thing i've ever found on the internet. i cried laughing whilst reading it, and immediately saved it in my bookmarks.
http://cgi.ebay.com/VAMPIRE-INVINCIBILITY-SPELLS-Makes-u-IMMORTAL-/250749657519?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item3a61d821af
this one's pretty good as well:
http://cgi.ebay.com/VAMPIRE-TRANSFORMATION-SPELL-IMMORTAL-VAMPIRE-/110626235037?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item19c1d6629d
it has small print that reminds you that the seller is 'required by state law to state that this spell is for entertainment purposes only'
hahahahahahahahaha
just search 'vampire spells' on ebay.com (not .co.uk, no-one in the uk offers them as well) and let me know of any other particularly good ones. happy searching!
http://cgi.ebay.com/VAMPIRE-INVINCIBILITY-SPELLS-Makes-u-IMMORTAL-/250749657519?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item3a61d821af
this one's pretty good as well:
http://cgi.ebay.com/VAMPIRE-TRANSFORMATION-SPELL-IMMORTAL-VAMPIRE-/110626235037?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item19c1d6629d
it has small print that reminds you that the seller is 'required by state law to state that this spell is for entertainment purposes only'
hahahahahahahahaha
just search 'vampire spells' on ebay.com (not .co.uk, no-one in the uk offers them as well) and let me know of any other particularly good ones. happy searching!
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