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]