This Love, Maroon 5. So good. Totally didn't realise it was the same guys who did Moves Like Jagger until, like, yesterday. 

Work is getting steadily more mountainous by the day, but it's not a mountain I can't climb. I'm going to do it. But to be honest, I don't know why I care that much. Yes, I want to do well so I can get into a good university and all that - but really? Will a letter of the alphabet really determine my happiness, or have I just been told that it will? Hmm.

Trying to find a job. Mum told me yesterday that she thinks it would be wise for me to go into catering, as a profession. I was insulted. Then she explained that it's not because she doesn't think my creative writing isn't good, but because it's possible to be the best writer in the world and for it to be irrelevant in terms of making money. Surviving, and all. She's got a point, depressingly enough.

I feel like wearing red. All that colour determines your life's turn of events stuff isn't my thing but something's telling me that red will cheer me up. Not that I'm down, I'm just not up enough to consider myself happy yet.

Argh. Exams. 14 days 'til the first. Biology. 29 days 'til the last. Psychology. Joy.

It's Friday Friday blah la la la Friday

Ballad of Mona Lisa, Panic! at the Disco. What a terrible name that is. It's like they deliberately chose the least catchy and charismatic sentence in existence and added the punctuation just to thrust two fingers up the sanctimonious nostrils of snobs like myself who think that a band is defined by their name.

Gave blood today! Feeling like a wonderful human being, albeit a wonderful human being embarrassed at the enormous fuss she made over having a needle rammed into one of her veins. It's really not that bad. They borrow your blood and then give you lemon squash and Penguin biscuits, everyone's a winner.

I'm watching Scandal in Belgravia because I'm pathetic. Ma just came in to say goodnight, saw what I was watching, sighed witheringly and said "don't stay up all night watching Benedict Whatshisface", after which she looked at him more closely and announced that he's not even that good looking. Blasphemy.

I figured that I needed to be in a better mood the next time I blogged, what with the last couple of posts being riddled with angst, and I'm happy right now. Don't really have anything to say, just thought I'd let you know that I'm happy. Mostly because I've given myself the rest of the evening off - and what with the deactivated Facebook and the whole leaving-my-phone-upstairs thing, I can pretend that no one in the world exists except me, leaving me free to wallow in my self-obsession, take a swim with my vanity, play croquet with my narcissism, discuss 16th century literature with my arrogance, etc.

Ohh man... I've reached the bit with the Christmas party at Baker Street, when Molly comes in... Ahhhh I can't watch this! It was uncomfortable enough watching it for the first time, new to the wonders of Sherlock, with no knowledge of their backstory or, indeed, what was to come and ahh. I feel so bad for her. He's such a prick! Damn those diamond-cutter cheekbones, damn them to hell!

This author dude [because it's not enough to leave it at his profession, I had to add the word "dude" in there] came into school today to talk at us about being a writer and, yeah, stuff. He goes by the name Essi Tolling, because that means he's next to Tolkein in bookshops [genius, when you think about it], but he told me that his real name is Richard, which I find unjustifiably funny. Got me thinking about what I'd change my name to if, by some marvellous, God-given turn of extremely fortunate events, I was to make it [whatever it is] as a writer. Who would I want to be near? Eoin Colfer? Stephen King? George R.R. Martin? Probably the first one. But Essi, he's quite a cool guy. Seems to think on a similar wavelength to me, in his curiosity of other human beings and the way he marvels at how every stranger you avoid eye contact with walking through Ipswich has a life, a story of their own. "Everyone is the centre of their own universe", he said. I like that. Makes me feel less selfish. Only place I found myself disagreeing with him was when he started talking about the best way to elicit productive creativity from your mind - he was banging on about something to do with alpha and beta wavelengths, and "how to detach your brain from reality" or whatever it was - and he said that alcohol and drugs are detrimental to creativity! I snorted when he said that. Other than the slightly annoying good, pure, sinless man image he was portraying, I quite like him. Seems like the kind of guy I'd want to buddy up with to write some epic stories, oh, ideas.

They took a pint of blood from me. A pint. That's, like, a ninth of all the blood in my body. Dat some freeky shit dude.

Time for bed! And blankets! And dreams! Last night's dream was good. I wish I could remember it.

If you can be bothered, look up Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye, the official video. Pause at about 2:10, and allow yourself to become hypnotised by the greenness. [Fun fact, spellcheck hasn't corrected that modifier, funny old world.]

Until next time, you lovely, forgiving, charming, tolerant people.

Quote of the Day: One should absorb the colour of life, but one should never remember its details. Details are always vulgar. [Oscar Wilde]

Speaking on behalf of someone I know better than you:

Stop being a prick to your friends. You don't own her, and the second I catch you being a wanker there'll be hell to pay.

Minor problems

This is a negative post because I'm stressed.

It's less than three weeks 'til exams start. I'm cranky, knackered, even more short-tempered and unpleasant to be around than usual and spending most of my time biting the inside of my mouth to stop myself snapping at my friends for no reason - but today was pretty bad. I was all snippy at someone who calls me a friend who - without beating about the bush - gets on my nerves even when I'm not crabby, and who actually did do something really stupid, but he didn't deserve the crap I gave him and, uh, I feel bad. Kind of really really bad, and I'm just making excuses, but if I apologise then I know he'll take it too far and overanalyse anything and get even more paranoid and UGH I CAN'T BE BOTHERED I'M ANGRY LEAVE ME ALONE PISS OFF COME BACK WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING GIVE ME A HUG NOT YOU I'M SICK OF YOU YOU THERE HUG ME BEFORE I POISON MYSELF AND MAKE IT LOOK LIKE MURDER NO NO SHUT UP I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT STOP TOUCHING ME DON'T GO AWAY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'm sorry

Anyway. I want to talk about hate because I'm angry and it seems appropriate. And now I'm getting overzealous with the italics, gosh darn.

I believe it's a strong word, but also completely reasonable and just as omnipresent as the concept of love - like many things, you can't have one without the other. Off the top of my head, there are three people in the world who I would say I dislike with enough intensity to warrant use of the H word - people who have done something, or many things, to me personally to make me resent their existence.

One, I called my best friend from the age of seven to sixteen. She's fun to be around, I suppose, and for all those years I did notice that some of the stuff she said and did was unnecessary and sometimes nothing short of cruel and manipulative, but she was my best friend. We were going to be each others' maid of honour, godmother to the kids, best friends to the end. Chances are that you, you reading this now, you know what happened. I'm not blameless, and I know what they say about not falling out with a friend over some guy, but it's different. Between them they broke my heart and messed me around and led me on and cut me up again and again and again, cheated me, played with me, made me feel like nothing and like I was nothing to everyone else in this world I find myself occupying. She's lied about me. Probably still does, I don't know. We all know I'm lying but I'll insist to the grave that I don't give a flying fuck about her.

The second befriended me when I was an enormous loner at a new school, and I heard rumours that she was fourteen-faced and manipulative but I was just grateful that someone was talking to me. Without going into loads of detail, because people reading this who know her will have guessed by now, I went off her when she turned her spitefulness against me because I objected to the way she was taking advantage of people and treating them as if they were less than human and we haven't really spoken since. 

The third and only guy was one of the nicest people I'd ever met until he became a wanker and sold out a secret I'd trusted him with to #2. Still bitter about that.

I try to be indifferent to those I can't like, but I'm just not that laid back a person. I openly admit to having a habit of lashing out at those who don't deserve it and a seriously irritable disposition. Though nowadays, I find my anger being increasingly neglected, which can only mean that I'm beginning to chill out.

There is one person, a particular ex of mine, who makes me angry just thinking about him, who doesn't make it onto my list. But argh, he's such a wanker! An annoying, possessive, lying, manipulative, disgusting, perverted, unreasonable, pathetic wanker - but I can't hate him. It grieves me dearly that I can't, but all that stuff, it was my own damn fault. I only have myself to blame, because I'm an idiot. 

All the same. Getting rid of the chip in my shoulder is harder to do than I first thought. I'm trying.

One thing good that happened today [which is really pathetic, because it's not that good] - I found out exactly who I'm going to marry: Jack White. Or someone just as talented and passionate and rugged and interesting and entertaining and inspirational and humble and funny and damn sexy as he is. This is the only time I've ever been thankful for Jools Holland. Rather pleasant surprise to turn on the TV and find Jack singing at me.

Just told mum about my girlfriend -.- Nuuuuggggggghhhhhhh.

But anyway. I need to work. I'm deactivating my Facebook until exams are over because I'm too easily distracted and, for the first time in my life, failure is simultaneously not an option and a very probable outcome.

Quote of the Day: I like being submerged in your contradictions, dear. [Beautiful Mess, Jason Mraz. My friend said that this song reminds her of me today... I don't know what to make of that. The lyrics are kind of bittersweet, which isn't the emotion I really want to instil in her, of all people.]

Quote of the Day

Interviewer: How do you feel now, at the end of a day like that? How do you feel, do you like your job?

Freddie Mercury: I love my job, but I hate talking to people like you.

Interviewer: Thanks.

[NB - it occurred to me earlier today that I'd never actually heard him speak. Makes sense, he wasn't known for giving interviews, but I was surprised at how charming his speaking voice really is. Proper RP, it's great. He's inspired me to adopt toffspeak again.]

Blublublu [written 19/4]

I Believe in a Thing Called Love, The Darkness. It's so 2003! Primary school nostalgia! Did you know, Darkness come from Lowestoft? Why is everyone in Suffolk still wetting themselves over Ed Sheeran when we've already churned out some actual talent?

Hello, you!

Yes, you. How're you doing? Still putting up with my rambles? You saint. Know that I'd give you a hug if I was with you now, but I'm sitting alone in my living room at half eleven at night watching the news and wondering whether Benedict Cumberbatch was born perfect or if it is a skill he acquired over time.

What's going on in your life? How did the last conversation you had with your mother go? Who would you say is your best friend? What songs do you want played at your funeral? If you could be fluent in any language other than English, which would it be? If you wake up tomorrow in the body of someone of the opposite gender, what will you change your name to? If you had to lick any part of anyone's body, which part of whom would you lick? Who's your favourite Simpsons character? What do you think of reincarnation? What non-human animal would you come back as, if you had the choice? What's your favourite letter of the alphabet? Number? Non-alcoholic drink? Do you prefer the pink or white marshmallows? If you had to come up with one word to describe everything that you are, what would it be? 

Questions, questions! Let me know your answers, if you like! In case you're interested, mine are: too much to paraphrase; pretty good, she gave me chocolate; I have many!; Purple Rain; Arabic; Noah; Alien's neck/shoulder area; Ned Flanders, Groundskeeper Willie and Grandpa; it's possible, but I'd prefer Heaven; a flamingo; W; 8; cherryade; pink; absent. Heh heh. 

Today's actually been really good, which, considering I was missing someone, really shouldn't have been - but it wasn't really anything to do with school. Well, I'm glad it wasn't a crap day, because that would've made me unhappy, but yeah, today's just been nice. Had a DM with my Sherlock-obsessed crazyfriend about guess who, which was surprising, as she's always seemed completely asexual, but it does appear as though there is a person for whom she has a soft spot.

So anyway, my day began when I woke up to a cup of tea on my bedside table and further proof that my mother is a wonderful, wonderful lady. I got downstairs, ate cornflakes, checked email and the like, before flicking through Blogspot and finding the sweetest post written by my beautiful lil' cousin, which honestly brightened my mood for the whole day. Thank you so much for your kindness, even though I totally don't deserve it, you wonderful human being ☺ I love you ♥

Ma picked me up straight from school, which was a pleasant surprise. I did a couple of hours of revision when I got home, which felt good to get out of the way. Then I watched the final two episodes of the first series of Grandma's House, ready for episode one of series two that aired on BBC earlier tonight. Band practice, after foods, was great. Not for any particular reason. It was just a pleasant couple of hours. And Grandma's House, S2E1 - AMAZING. Simon Amstell. Gay makeout scene. Hilarity. It's all good! Mum pointed out that he's a lot like my brother, which put a bit of a different spin on things. And now it's midnight and my hair is mank and I haven't written in my diary or brushed my teeth yet but I'm watching Embarrassing Bodies and talking to you, lovely person, and my cat's curled up around my knees and I'm really quite content. Enough so to not let the chat I had with my form tutor this morning concerning the fact that my biology classes are having a detrimental effect on all my other subjects bother me.

It looks like the internet's committed suicide... He, he kept talking about it, but I never took him seriously! Ah well, I'll publish this later.

Have you ever noticed that all the doctors on Embarrassing Bodies are weirdly, clinically hot?

And, uh, I wrote a thing. A thing, that's right. Wrote it a few days ago, when stuff was bad. It's not so much bad anymore as irreversibly uncomfortable, but I know which I prefer.

It's not a poem, because I can't write meaningful, thoughtful, deep, ponderous stuff. Whatever it is, it's called Antagonism, but I'd rather something less pretentious if anyone has a better idea:

A broken mirror, my scattered reflection. Grey eyes you gave me blink, surprised, perhaps. 

You do surprise me, on occasion. A golfer, a literate, a deluded rocker, a reclusive genius. A comedian – an infant’s giggles, a child’s tinkling laugh, an adolescent’s scathing cynicism. My indifference. 

The same grey eyes, they look at me and I don’t recognize them.

Like I said. Not a poet. 

Quote of the Day: Dad would throw the garbage all across the floor as we would lay and learn what each others' bodies were for. [King of Carrot Flowers Part One, Neutral Milk Hotel]

Ahhhh

And I don't even know what's aimed at who anymore, but it's none of my business anyway. I tried. Katherine, out.

Humble Narcissism: Volume II

Day in the Life, Beatles. Trippy, if nothing else.

I completed this questionnaire three months ago, and I was flicking through it earlier and was surprised at what's changed. Funny old world. Again, don't bother reading if you don't want, it's for my benefit, for my own interest - recording purposes - because I'm self-obsessed like that.

1. Last Beverage→ Water. Ice cold ;)
2. Last phone call→ To mum, maybe
3. Last text message→ From Alien.
4. Last song→ Nowhere Man, Beatles
5. Last time you cried→ Saturday

HAVE YOU EVER:
6. Dated someone twice → Yes
7. Been cheated on? → Yes
8. Kissed someone & regretted it? → I try not to, but yes
9. Lost someone special?→ I think I have, and it's my own fault, but I can't be what they want me to be
10. Been depressed?→ Not seriously. More like exhausted
11. Been drunk?→ No! Never!

LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS:
12. Yellow
13. Purple
14. Metallic green

THIS YEAR HAVE YOU:
15. Made new friends → Not new friends - I've reaffirmed friendships with some and drifted from others, but I think I've reached a point now where I'm able to write a list of friends whom I am confident I could remain with for the rest of my life, which makes me quite happy.
16. Fallen out of love → No
17. Laughed until you cried → Every day, still
18. Met someone who changed you→ Not met, but I've changed
19. Found out who your true friends were→ I believe so
20. Found out someone was talking about you→ People always are. It's pointless getting huffy every time someone talks about you. Life's too precious to be spent in a strop.
21. Kissed anyone on your friend's list→ Yes, but only one more than last time, and that was really soon after I did the last one of these
22. How many people on your friends list do you know in real life --> Uhh... Most of them
23. How many kids do you want to have→ Yeeek... Either three, or none at all.
24. Do you have any pets → Bingo the increasingly-surly cat, Brutus the cactus and his daughter Emily
25. Do you want to change your name→ Nah, it's mine.
26. What did you do for your last birthday→ Got very drunk.
27. What time did you wake up today → 6:30. 6:30! Bastard school!
28. What were you doing at midnight last night→ I'm... highly embarrassed to admit that I was reading Sherlock fanfiction and giggling at all the, uh, lemons. I had Cumberbatch cravings, leave me alone!
29. Name something you CANNOT wait for -> Exams to be over! Six weeks!
30. Last time you saw your father→ A while ago
31. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life→ The amount of pressure I'm put under to do well
32. What are you listening to right now → A completely mental Italian woman on Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares USA. "I no say 'fuck off'! I no say 'fuck off'! EVERYONE AGAINST ME! I just want quit! I can't take any more! I the boss of everybody here and they treat me like shit! Everyone talk nice to your face and then stab you in back! They talk bad about me! They liars! FUCK OFF! NO YOU FUCK OFF!" [To customers]
33. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom → Yeah, every now and then
34. What's getting on your nerves right now? → Crap skin
36. Whats your Zodiac sign?→ Aquarius, but it's still bollocks
39. Male or female→ I've decided that I'm female
40. Elementary School→ Broughton Primary, Mawsley Primary
41. Middle School → We don't have them here
42. High school → Bishop Stopford, Woodbridge School, Current School
43. Hair color → Red, with residue purple refusing to bugger off
44. Height→ Somewhat lanky
46. Do you have a crush on someone? → I read this quickly, confused it with the next question and thought it read "Do you have a crush on yourself" :P In both instances, of course!
47. What do you like about yourself? → More and more every day, without sounding self-indulgent, because in reality, I know I'm not. That's something I like, is that I don't delude myself into thinking that I'm wonderful. Quite the opposite, which isn't so good, but it's better than being unbearably bigheaded. I like that I'm pragmatic. I like that I'm a little irresponsible, and I like that I have a little experience - I know the difference between vodka and gin, tobacco and weed, lust and something more, and that's knowledge I just didn't have a year ago.
48. Piercings?→ Six, seven by the end of this month
49. Tattoos → Not yet. When I turn eighteen, I want an apple on the skin behind my left ear.
50. Righty or lefty --> Righty, yes

FIRSTS :
51. First surgery → None so far - but I'm giving blood at the end of the month! That counts, kind of?
52. First piercing → Boring, earlobes when I was 11
53. First tattoo→ Not yet
54. First best friend→ Ach. I don't know - probably Jen Mac or Danielle
55. First sport you joined → I was interested in running at one point, I remember. The first sport I joined a club for was ballet when I was quite little, and then a few years later I did tae kwon do for a while.
56. First pet → I think it was a cat called Spider
57. First vacation remembered → Remembered? Well for as long as I can remember we've been going to Scotland most years for a fortnight in the summer
58. First concert → Concert? Gig? Other than school stuff, there was a thing with the Girl Guides, Big Gig or something, that I went to a few years ago. It wasn't bad, either, apart from the bit where Leon Jackson accidentally wandered onto the stage.
59. First crush--> Orlando Bloom
60. First alcoholic drink→ Advocaat

RIGHT NOW:
61. Eating → "Baguette-shaped cheese snacks"
62. Drinking → Tea!
63. I'm about to → Watch Grandma's House on YouTube
64. Listening to → Grandma's House, now
65. Waiting for → Damn buffer!
YOUR FUTURE :
66. Want kids? → Either yes or no
67. Want to get married? → Probably, if I don't get bored
68. Careers in mind? → I can only see myself being a writer

WHICH IS BETTER WITH THE OPPOSITE [or same, whatever] SEX?
69. Lips or eyes → Lips, because without beating about the bush, I like kissing
70. Hugs or kisses → Both at the same time is pretty nice
71. Shorter or taller → Guy, taller. Girl, shorter.
72. Older or Younger → Yeeek... I admit to having a thing for older guys. Other than the occasional hot forty-year-old, maybe within a two year radius?
73. Romantic or spontaneous → Spontaneity can totally be romantic
74. Long hair or Short? Long, on both
75. Tattoos or piercings→ Yes!
76. Sensitive or loud → I'd rather sensitive, but not a pussy
77. Hook-up or relationship→ I'm changing from the former to the latter
78. Trouble maker or hesitant→ I'd rather thoughtful but, again, not a pussy about it

HAVE YOU EVER :
79. Kissed a stranger → Near enough.
80. Skipped class?→ Yes, and I'm not going to justify it because skiving is wrong
81. Lost glasses?→ Occasionally I put them down somewhere and then wander around for ages before realising why I can't see anything
83. Broken someone's heart → Yes.
84. Had your own heart broken--> Once before. And until now I haven't let myself be vulnerable to heartbreak again. Flawed, hugely, but would you rather break hearts or have yours broken over and over again?
85. Been arrested?→ No, and hopefully I won't until I'm eighty
86. Turned someone down → Yes
87. Cried when someone died --> Yes
88. Liked a friend that is a girl? → Yes

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
89. Yourself → More than I ever have before
90. Miracles → Undecided
91. Love at first sight -> Undecided
92. Heaven → Yes, but specifics are undecided
93. Santa Claus → No
94. Kissing on the first date? → Yes, because I like kissing :P
95. Angels → Undecided

ANSWER TRUTHFULLY:
96. Is there one person you want to be with right now? → More than one but to answer the question, yes
97. Had more than one boyfriend/girlfriend at one time? → No
98. Do you believe its possible to remain faithful forever? → People do it, it must be.
99. What's the one thing you cannot live without? → My imagination.
100. [OWN QUESTION] Mila Kunis, Charlie McDonnell, Benedict Cumberbatch. Snog, marry, avoid? → Ach. Mila, Benedict, Charlie, respectively. 

Concentrated megalomania over for another three months.

Found out today that the A level requirements to get into the creative writing course at UEA are AAA. Bollocks, I hear you say? No? Just me then. Bollocks. Mum ordered a prospectus from the University of Colchester for me because she knew I'm too stuck up and prejudiced to show interest in anything to do with Essex of my own accord, and I'm glad she did because it actually seems like a really good place, with a great arts department and excellent student satisfaction. They have a creating writing course too, requirements ABB which means that, no, it's not as competitive as UEA, but seriously? Not to be sniffed at. More practical than my first choice.

Man... When did it all become so damn serious?

Quote of the Day: He's just a bastard English asshole. [The Italian guy on Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, about the man himself.]

!!!

I'm sorry! I never meant to hurt anyone! I didn't mean to cause tension, however indirectly! I never wanted you to feel rejected! Stop fighting! Stop making me feel even more guilty - don't you think I feel guilty enough? Everyone be nice! 

Wtf

are you playing at, Dad?

The Frontier of Sanity

Somebody That I Used to Know, Gotye. Incredible. Just incredible.

I'm working on a new story. It's not going to be an epic, maybe 20-30 thousand words. I don't know how that would be classified. I... really, really hope I see it through to completion. I feel it'd be something to be proud of if I did.

It's occurred to me that, if I want to be a writer, then I need to have a level of self-restraint and control in place pretty much all the time. Take a look at me when faced with alcohol to see a prime example of my lack of either. I'm not going to get wasted, I promise. Two hours later and I'm falling over all over the place, struggling to remember who I am and drinking more to delay the hangover a little longer. 

Maybe I need to stop staying up 'til ungodly hours such as now writing a story that no one will ever read unless I have credible A level results. Which means getting some sleep so I can actually do productive revision tomorrow to get the credible A level results I need to get into the university I want to which did you know is really really quite competitive, damnit. Get into that university, and I'll learn how to write readable stuff so someone will want to read the things I stay up all night writing - writing the things I pour my heart into because nothing else matters when I'm in control of my characters and my events and my places and my grammar and everything else that lets me sink into my imagination and surface hours later with a piece of writing that I don't even know is good enough for anyone to want to read. But I have a better chance of writing stuff that people want to read if I have the credibility that comes from a good degree from a good university that I get to from good A levels that I get from doing the work that I can't do when I'm sleeping in 'til midday and being distracted because I'm staying up 'til ungodly hours such as now just writing. 

Writing. It's my favourite thing in the world - along with my cat and mayonnaise, I love it so much more than I'll ever love any human being, but we all know what they say about too much of a good thing. It's driving me insane. These thoughts keep batting around my head, these what if you don't actually make it? What if you hit forty and you're still working in the same dead-end job you told everyone you only started to pay the bills, just until you can support myself with your writing? What then? What will you do, Katherine?

I'm sorry

Quote of the Day: I'm just a little bit heiress, a little bit Irish, a little bit Tower of Pisa whenever I see you, so please be kind if I'm a mess. [Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk, Rufus Wainwright]

We're in a raincoat that has four sleeves;
Gets us through all kinds of weather.
She will always be the only thing
That comes between me and the awful sting
That comes from living in a world that's so damn mean.

Oh, the irony

Friedman and Rosenham and beta-blockers and uplifts and conventionality and Type B and acute stressors and chronic stressors and benzodiazepines and the hypothalamus and sympathomedullary pathway and Kiecolt-Glaser and workplace stress and +0.118 and CHD and CBT and SIT and motherfucking acronyms and daily hassles and meta-reviews and Segerstrom and Miller and Type A and hardiness and schizophrenic relatives and ARHDGJSHFBSJDHFBSILJDNAKSHFJAHSDSBJHFASJDAJSD

GET ME OUT OF HERE

Quote of the Day: Don't you know, it's a beautiful new day, hey-ey. [Mr Blue Sky, ELO]

Totally watching Shrek 2 when I should be revising ^^

Transvestite

Starman, David Bowie. Still don't know any of the words. [To those it may concern: I just asked the Mac to say the word "Bowie", and it shouted "b-oh-ee" at me, not "b-oww-ee". Still. I remain unconvinced.]

One. Two. [Two accounts of the same event.]

So, yeah! Chicken came to stay for a few days. In short, she arrived with a relative grip on normality and went home with the mentalist twang characteristic of my group of friends, a happier perspective of life as a whole [I hope], purple hair and three slices of banana cake. It struck me as my mother and myself were driving to pick she and Anonymous up from his house on Monday that we haven't actually spent an extended amount of time with each other for - I'm not actually sure. A long time, anyway. I was curious to find out how the nights would pan out. Curious and excited.

When the three of us got home and piled into the spare room, I'm a little ashamed to admit that our main priority was to find a place to hide the booze. Mainly to stop my parents from finding out, but also to lessen the temptation for Anonymous. Bloody alkie. Hey! Alcoholic Anonymous! Black humour, lol. We deemed the bottom shelf of the wardrobe a suitable storage space in the absence of an actual minibar, and went outside with guitars and chocolate and snuggled up in fluffy blankets on the swingseat. It wasn't particularly hot or cold, and I remember feeling this deep, penetrating relaxing in my bones, like they'd finally flumped down on the sofa to watch crap telly with a hot chocolate after several months of neverending running - like Forrest Gump - and it was rather pleasant. 

The next day, Ben, Rory, Curious and Alien came over to eat pizza and loiter around my living room like a loiterous bunch of scamps and make disparaging comments about my cooking/help me make a FUCKING GOOD dinner and meander across to the park barefoot in the rain and invade the spare bedroom and take a nap and attempt to play one of the millions of guitars we seemed to have kicking around and sing U2 [still not as good as White Stripes] and pose and take pictures and feed the cat floor pasta and give/receive beard/ear massages and all that. 

Curious and Ben and Rory left us in the evening. Rory hugged me when he got picked up and thanked me with touching sincerity.

What happened after that isn't too clear. I know the following things: I had no idea how drunk I was until I tried to stand up. I was stuck somewhere between fury and hysteria upon pulling back the covers to my bed when Alien and I tumbled back into the room at 2am to find an enormous pile of empty bottles and cans in the place my body was meant to go. The fried eggs and bagels Anonymous made for us the next morning were the most welcome things I believe have ever entered my life. And the bottles and cans I kicked to the foot of my bed remained there for another three days because we were all too lazy to go to the recycling station.

We didn't do a lot the next day. We took a brief walk to the forest near my home and watched Zoolander. After Alien went home, us remaining three celebrated Anonymous's last night with us by watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

It's unnerving how  a man in lingerie can be so hot.

It became apparent around this time that Chicken was going to be staying for longer than was initially planned; instead of three nights, she was staying for five! Dad drove the three of us to Anonymous' house to drop him off, and came back to the overwhelming stench of egg. As Chicken and I had spent the previous forty minutes being jiggled across crappy country roads in the back of a poorly ventilated car, our stomachs weren't able to handle the offensive stink lingering around the house like a... bad smell for long so we took to the garden, draped in a blanket and brandishing a cup of tea. 

The egg was there for a purpose; Thursday was Maundy Thursday, or Passover, in accordance with the Christian calendar. Passover is an annual Jewish festival at which they remember Elijah freeing their ancestors from slavery in Egypt ["Let my people go", ten plagues, parting of the red sea, etc], and it was this that Jesus and his mates were celebrating the night before he died - the Last Supper was a Passover. It's not typically celebrated by Christians, but the reason some of us do is because our ancestors were those slaves also, according to our interpretation; basically if you imagine Judaism as Sims 2, Christianity is an expansion pack. Yes, I did just liken two of the major world religions to a videogame. So anyway, theology over, the egg is used to symbolise... something to do with the liberation of the slaves, I don't remember, I was too busy being offended by the sight of them. It was good fun, the Passover. Someone made some epic cakes.

It was on this day that Chicken and I discovered tea. I'm more of a black coffee person, and she's into hot chocolate, but on that day we had five cups of tea each. As my sister rightly snorted with some derision when we told her the next day, "that's nothing", but when you consider that, between us, we'd probably had less than five cups of tea in our entire lives until that point, we felt as if we'd both taken a big step up in the world. When I say it like that, it sounds a little sad.

On Friday Chicken and I took the train up to hang out with my sister and nephew, and to help keep him occupied while they sorted out their moving house arrangements and stuff, painting his room and transporting... stuff from the old house to the new one. It was a very pleasant day - we took him to the [bloody enormous] park right opposite and sat him in the swings for a while, looking very much like a lesbian couple with an adopted baby.

When we got back, determined to be in bed asleep by midnight at the latest to make up for the 2am gossip sesh the night before followed by an 8am wakeup, we stuck on The King's Speech while I dabbed at her hair with purple dye, cackling delightedly and unable to believe she was trusting me to not balls up and turn her bald or something impossible that I'd inevitably achieve. She went to sleep with half her hair wrapped into a testicle-shaped clingfilm parcel dangling next to her ear, and by the time I'd stopped giggling at the ridiculousness of it all it was the next morning and she'd washed her hair to be left with a streak of bright violet. It looks amaaazing. I'm biased, of course, but it really does look amazing. 

And now she's gone and I'm sad ☹

I like these.

Alex Day got to fifteen in the UK singles chart with Lady Godiva! I'm trying not to feel sad and pathetic at how genuinely happy I am for someone I'm likely to never meet. That he's on my bucket list is neither here nor there; probability dictates that I will be lucky to meet a fraction of a percent of the world's population, and, chances are, he won't be in that negligible total. Probability is the only thing standing between us commoners and YouTube bourgeoisie such as Alex. Not that he'd want to identify as such, really.

If you get the opportunity, get thylazyself to iPlayer and watch Simon Amstell: Do Nothing Live before it gets taken off. He's my favourite comedian, and another bittersweet reminder that the gay ones are always the cutest. 

And, eh, I finally figured out how to use tumblr: click here for more unbearably smug megalomania.

Michael owns!

Quote of the Day: My type is me, but better. So all I need to do is find someone like me but better, looking for someone exactly like himself, but much worse. [Simon Amstell]

NB - I don't know about you, but I find this truly inspirational.

I know that you're close, and you haven't seen each other for ages, but give it a rest.