Dink dunk dink donk

Lady Godiva, Alex Day. Because I ship nerimon and I always will.

As people go, I like to think I'm pretty mild-mannered. I don't really do extremes - bouncing between ecstasy and depression and back again, that's just not like me. I'm more of a, stay-cool-and-keep-the-peace-as-far-as-possible kind of person. I don't have time for mood swinging all over the place. Far too much arsing around to do to allow for that kind of thing, y'know.

But what's becoming apparent more and more with every passing day is how damn scathing I can be. It's triggered by nothing at all, aimed at people who don't deserve it, and always leaves me with a sick feeling in my mouth, and even when I'm saying the spiteful crap I know I'm saying it just for the hell of it and it's undeniably shit. When did I become such a bitch? Most of the time I feel this completely irrational anger beginning to build, I'm able to control it, but sometimes it spills over and I say something cruel and unnecessary and afterwards I'm just like, "Why?" Why do I do stupid stuff! Someone tell me!

I think at heart I'm a suppressed control freak. Whatever it is, it's gotten worse as I've grown up. I never used to be such a bitter cow.

In other news. Easter! Holidays! Two weeks! Yes! Revision! No! All the same. It's not like I'm not having a break at all. There's Chicken Tits and Anonymous coming to stay next week, which, now I think about it, I really can't wait for. It's rare to have a few days in close proximity with friends. I'm hoping there'll be some great photo opportunities. And pizza. I sincerely hope neither of you was planning on healthy eating for the duration. If you were, you're in for a terribly disappointing time.

I got my report a couple of days ago. It was depressing. All the grades are lined up into columns, and for each subject there are three grades next to each other; the minimum target, the predicted, and the current level. For biology, mine spelled out BAD. I'm working at a more shit level than my teachers think is possible of me. Like I said. Depressing.

Quote of the Day: Boys, get momma's plastic hooker shoes outta your Lego box! [Joy, My Name is Earl]

I like the rain when it's wet.

Green Day, Wake me up when September ends

Rain makes everything better.

Click the first one. Wait for it to load. Then click the second one, put it to fullscreen and be happy.

Quote of the Day: A poet is someone who waits outside in the rain hoping to be struck by lightning. [James Dickey]

Anonymity: the process by which a person gradually turns into my best friend, beginning with the hat, and then the giggling, then the awesome.

Tattoo, The Who

I have a dorky friend called Anonymous, who sticks his enormous Jewish nose into the business of everyone within a hundred mile radius, who contrives to be the biggest hypocrite I know and simultaneously the biggest source of love in my life, who always manages to find a solution to whatever problem I selfishly throw at him every day, whose arms are always open to anyone who needs it, who is irritatingly modest with his musical genius, and whose willingness to protect the people who matter has inspired me to change my priorities since meeting him. He's a reclusive wanker, but 99.9% of the time I've known him, he's been the most loving, giving, talented, brilliant guy in the world, and I'm lucky to know him.

And besides. I'm a bigger wanker than he is, in many ways.

Happy blanket times.

So hey, Anonymous. I don't know why I'm feeling the need to write this. Maybe it's some way of making up for the incalculable amount of love you've enveloped me in since we met. All the little messages to say "have some love", just for when I need it and all. Thank you, bender. Have some love. For whenever you need it.

So. Yeah. That's him. He's a good one, he is. I like him. Everyone should. Anyone who doesn't is an emotionless sociopath. Fact.

Quote of the Day: HRRAAAARRRRGGGHHH. [Anon]

A long overdue catch up

I like the part where it goes "why can't we be friends".

It makes me sad when people aren't speaking. I can't propagate about letting go of grudges and forgiving and forgetting, because I don't preach what I don't practice, but it doesn't stop it from being sad. I hope you reconcile sooner or later. You guys were so close.

But then, I suppose, she and I were close once too.

Well, hey. It's been a while. In fairness, I was meaning to update a week ago, but in the early hours of last Thursday, about a kilometre of that massive BT wire that runs underground was severed and stolen from just outside my village, cutting off the internet and phone lines to everyone in a several-mile vicinity. So I've been without internet for the majority of the last week, which was a bummer, but I actually got a lot of work done, which is cool. It's funny how quickly exams have become serious. A month ago I was still kind of dismissive about summer. A levels, pff. Now I enter into a state of panic whenever I think about them. Which is most of the time. Ahh.

Other than that looming over me like an overprotective parent, the last couple of weeks have been really, really happy. I'm happy, I feel happy! Haha!

So what's happened in the last couple of weeks... I finished the Virginia Woolf coursework. At long fucking last. And I got my marks for it - 35/40, thank you very much! Ohhh, Virginia Woolf. I'm done with you. I never have to deal with you ever again. Until university, when I'll inevitably be made to read everything you've ever written. That will be a sad day. But until then.

What else... Ehh, not a lot. Hehe.

And to my dear Zilla - I believe my boggart would be an enormous flock of pigeons, possibly seagulls, flying out of the cupboard and flapping around my head while I break down and panic. I hate hate hate birds. Like Randy Hickey.

It's worrying me slightly that I don't have anything interesting to say. It seems, as I become more content with the way my life is going, I have less drama to talk about. Or maybe there's less I can actually write on here because, as much as I trust the two people who read this, I just can't tell you some stuff without the security of you being here.

Quote of the Day: "I love youuu." "Aww, I love you t-" "Wasn't talking to you." [Anonymous and his fail of an I-love-you-too moment.]

Gratitude

Truth Doesn't Make a Noise, White Stripes.

Hey, lanky.

To cut to the chase, thank you. For continuing to be wonderful when I insist on being awkward and volatile and indecisive and spiteful and annoying and every other adjective that describes me when I'm in a bad mood.

You're funny and understanding and patient and sweet and easy company and relaxing and therapeutic and wonderful to vent one's frustrations onto and horrific in the kitchen, but that doesn't matter. There's nothing more I can say without getting sentimental - but thank you. You're a wonderful friend and I'm lucky to consider you one.

If life was a muffin you'd be the chocolate chips that make it better than the rest.

I got my results today...

I know I said several weeks ago that I'd film myself opening them - and in all fairness, I did mean to. It's probably a good thing I didn't anyway, because it would have just been a video of my extended period of nervous self-chatter and procrastination, followed by several attempts at opening the envelope, followed by half a second of frenzied paper-ripping, followed by five minutes of panicked "What is this? What does any of this mean?" followed by the moment of realisation, followed by half an hour of hysterical sobbing. It didn't make for good watching material. 

Didn't do too well, if it wasn't obvious.

Still. Band practice was good.

Quote of the Day: Well, it's 10 years from teenage and that's a freaking lot. I think I'm getting old. [Not on Top, Herman Dune. {Fun fact - Hermann, my sexy-ass acoustic, is named after this dude.}]

Claustrophobia

Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word, Elton John - or maybe the version Joe McElderry did on X Factor ages ago, that's quite a nice one.

Sorry about the last post. It doesn't even matter. I ranted at mum for ages about it and now I'm calmer.

I feel restrained. It started a few weeks ago, and it's been gradually building up to what it is now - essentially a sense of close, intense, unpleasant confinement. I'm locked in a metaphorical coffin. It makes no sense. The minute the first good thing to really happen to me for ages began, the ropes kicking around my imagination suddenly flexed around my mind and completely robbed me of my freedom. I fucking hate it. Unfortunately, the only way to get it back again is unthinkable. So I'm TRAPPED. I have my options, I know, which I can't put up on here [because I'm TRAPPED by the pressure of knowing who's reading this] but in terms of how they affect me, they basically go:

1. Remain uncomfortable and unhappy and irritable and TRAPPED.
2. Regain my freedom, but also balls everything up with someone who means the world to me.
3. Deliberately turn my back on anything resembling ethics and inevitably carry the guilt for the rest of my life.

So I have options, but no choice.

Quote of the Day: I'm a vindictive little bitch, truth be told. [...] Too many guys think I'm a concept or I complete them or I'm going to make them alive, but I'm just a fucked up girl who is looking for my own peace of mind. Don't assign me yours. [Clementine Kruczynski, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind]

Optimism.

People Ain't No Good, Nick Cave.

And that's all.

Quote of the Day: Some people are enormous shitbags with their head irreversibly lodged so far up their arse that they don't bother searching for logic to justify the things they say and do. These people are called "scum of the earth" and I will destroy their futures. Want to be a doctor? Lawyer? Any other high-paid executive whatever private schools churn out? Not on my watch. You shit.

Pinch punch!

If you want a song to make you happy by the time you've reached the opening chords, listen to Ageing Superhero, Newton Faulkner.

Two months! Two months of 2012 have passed! Not long now until the apocalypse, heh heh heh.

It's half 9, I have another thousand odd words to write for literature coursework in first thing tomorrow, I'm ready to pass out - and yet, for some unfathomable reason, I'm really, really happy. Ya :)

I feel like hugging someone.

Quote of the Day: I like my tea quite milkehhh. [Charlie McDonnell]