True dat.
My results turned out to be AABBC, if you were interested. The C is going to annoy me for a long time, but only in the way that, compared to the others, a C is a little too far from the start of the alphabet for me to really accept it. But accept it I shall, on the basis that I never had any intention of taking Biology to A2 anyway. In a way, I should be grateful that it turned out this way. If I'd got full marks in Biology and completely failed something like English Lit, that'd have meant a huge rethink of everything I've planned for the future so far. As it is, it's just a superfluous annoyance.
Soul Survivor was good - better than I expected it to be, in the end - but still among the most lonely few days of my life. The loneliness began when we arrived on the Sunday, and gradually built up over the next couple of days, leaving me alone on a bench sometime before midnight in the pitch black on the Tuesday, wallowing in self-pity and wondering when it was going to stop being so... shit. I must have been looking really pathetic, because a complete stranger stopped and asked if I wanted to be alone or if I needed someone to talk to. Talking to him was so incredibly therapeutic, that a part of me regrets that we're almost definitely never going to meet again (and even if we did, it was dark and I don't remember what he looks like), but on the other hand, communication outside of those couple of hours would ruin the magic. So I'm left slightly bemused, but generally happy to think of what we talked about, and it's just really satisfying, finding out for myself that some people are capable of decency in extending a hand to someone they don't need to care about. It's just good to know.
---
While away, the lady whose kids I sometimes babysit texted to inform me of a job vacancy at the Chinese takeaway just over the road from us. I called them, and they offered it to me immediately, under questionable conditions (i.e., the exploiting wage, i.e., the dubious lack of questions concerning my wellbeing {National Insurance number, etc}), and I began on Saturday, the day after we got back from Soul. So there I was, spending my Saturday evening shuffling around awkwardly behind the counter in an ugly apron, surrounded by people who barely speak English outside of what's on the menu and occasionally taking phone orders (something I learned that has made me a better person from this experience: customers who speak really quickly deserve to go to hell. Fucksake, if ever you order by phone, speak slowly! One of the most stressful things I've ever had to do.) To be fair, I was spending a lot of time sitting around doing nothing, which was what the boss reasoned at the end of my shift when he handed me some cash and told me in broken English to not come back. My sister thinks it's hilarious, that I was fired after three hours. Mum's pissed, but I find the whole thing puzzlingly amusing.
---
Sophie arrived last Monday! We didn't do loads. Arsed around in each others' company, mainly. She made me watch The Princess Bride, and I was totally surprised by how much I liked it. Classic Monty Python-esq ridiculous comedy. On Tuesday we meandered into Woodbridge and meandered back home again, and spent the rest of the day writing our respective stories with Twilight playing in the background, with all its bad scripting/acting/directing and naked young men as our inspiration. Wednesday and Thursday afternoons, we tried not to hit small children at the holiday club we were volunteering for - but a lot of Thursday morning was spent in the spare room, she writing and I getting angry with Tekken 5, being antisocial together. She is an excellent gaming partner, for the reason that she completely ignores my Steve Fox-oriented ramblings and anguished cries of "No! No! FUCK YOU TO HELL - bollocks, I died" and doesn't tell me to shut the hell up, instead recites little snippets of her writing at me and asks what I think. It's a neat system :)
Rory and Sam and Ben came over on Friday. I don't know about everyone else, but I had a really... pleasant day. I'm happy, in a way I haven't been for a while. Repercussions are on my mind but there's not a lot I can do about them. We made pizza. I didn't actually get to have any but I'm assured that it was good.
I watched The Avengers on Friday night! After months of Tumblr references that I got tired of not understanding, I caved in - and damnit, everyone needs to see it. It's like - if you took everything that is good with the world and put it into a film, Avengers would be the result. Please, watch it! As my first venture into the Marvel universe it was such a great way to spend two hours - and now I'm part of this huge, active fanbase! I now see the full appeal of Tom 'FUCK ME WITH YOUR VOICE' Hiddleston! But Captain America is just too adorable. I want to hug all the mournfulness away. Or get the Doctor to do the same, because he's lonely and out of his time too. They'd understand one another. It's meant to be.
Sometimes I depress myself with my tenacious nerdiness. It's not even endearing, it's just weird.
Want to watch a relentlessly sad video? You know you do.
---
On Saturday I was home alone with the cat. It wasn't too bad. We watched About a Boy, read some Catcher in the Rye, ate pasta, licked our own bollocks and then hairballed it out half an hour later. My cat is disgusting. But he's my disgusting, ugly, bad-tempered fleabag and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I'm off to bake a cake. Talk later.
*Later*
We had no marg. (-arine.) No cake.
---
On Sunday, I had something of an epiphany. I don't know why, it had no relevance to the arsing around I was doing at the time - or perhaps it did - but anyway. We're constantly told to enjoy childhood while we still can, because as we become adults, we gain responsibilities, which lessen the amount of freedom we have. For whatever reason, that only sank in then. I was thinking about going into town that day, when there're no buses, meaning that I'd have had to ask one of my parents for a lift. The drive into town is about fifteen minutes; for me, fifteen minutes there, however many hours spent in town, fifteen minutes back again. But for whoever's giving me a lift, it's double that - half an hour to take me there, and that again to get me home. As a bluntly selfish teenage girl, it's not hard to see that I don't really like doing favours for other people - and when I do do a favour, more often than not there's something in it for me and it doesn't take much time or effort on my part. The idea of being dragged out of the house when I'm happy minding my own business to ferry someone else to where they want to be, thus sacrificing half an hour of my time - and then another half hour when the bastard wants picked up again - is just shit.
---
On Monday my village hosted a street fair. I did my bit, once again, in pretending to be a statue and submitting to abuse from bratty kids in exchange for their parents' money - though, actually, they were nowhere near as bad as I expected them to be. Seeing the pictures, I looked pretty good. My mother really is wonderful - my sister and I both worry about what we're going to do when our children need us to make costumes for them. We're so rubbish at all that! Granny Janny is chief costume designer and maker, it seems like an insult to even try when she's just so much better than me.
I was a white marble garden statue, if you couldn't tell. It was fun, actually, for the first hour, after which a combination of factors (i.e., the heat, the heavy costume, the noxious facepaint, my lack of sleep and food) pushed me into the secondary stages of passing out, after the dizziness and onto the blurred vision and hyperventilating. I was carted home and told very firmly to stop and take it all off. That was a very white bath. I made £15 in small change for the Mother's Union, which really isn't bad, for one hour. If I could work for £15 an hour every hour I'd do it all the time.
---
Tuesday was great. Just, great. There's no other way of describing it in ways in which I'm comfortable with you reading, but on a scale of diabolical to superlatively marvellous, yesterday was roughly between "great" and "wonderful".
---
For several unrelated reasons, James Blunt has been brought to my mind after eight years of prejudice for the abomination that I still believe You're Beautiful to be. Did you know that he served six years in the army? It's just one of those things that... to me, anyway, it automatically places a person on a pedestal of sorts, one that means that, if nothing else, they are worthy of respect, above politicians and lawyers and everything else Tory-biased and well paid. I couldn't be bothered to switch from ITV2 after Notting Hill finished, and I half-watched a programme where Fearne Cotton tailed him around the world as he tours and talked to him about the benefits of partying like a student at thirty-eight. I mean, in all seriousness, his liver must be fucking ruined. Other than coming across as a little self-absorbed, he seems like a sweet guy. He speaks like Benedict Cumberbatch, albeit several octaves higher in pitch. I'm still totally unqualified to come to any sort of conclusion on him as a person, but, he just seems, you know. Nice. I still hate You're Beautiful on the grounds of it being an unreasonably creepy threat of sorts, but he's cool. No Bravery is such a good song. And Wisemen. And Stay the Night. And Goodbye My Lover.
---
It is Wednesday. Today I plan on catching some sun while I still can. And I will actually post now, instead of putting it off for another week.
Have a good last week of the holidays! I'll be alternating between writing my personal report and reading Hamlet, which translates into "rolling around on the floor like a walrus and watching My Name is Earl". Ciao.
---
While away, the lady whose kids I sometimes babysit texted to inform me of a job vacancy at the Chinese takeaway just over the road from us. I called them, and they offered it to me immediately, under questionable conditions (i.e., the exploiting wage, i.e., the dubious lack of questions concerning my wellbeing {National Insurance number, etc}), and I began on Saturday, the day after we got back from Soul. So there I was, spending my Saturday evening shuffling around awkwardly behind the counter in an ugly apron, surrounded by people who barely speak English outside of what's on the menu and occasionally taking phone orders (something I learned that has made me a better person from this experience: customers who speak really quickly deserve to go to hell. Fucksake, if ever you order by phone, speak slowly! One of the most stressful things I've ever had to do.) To be fair, I was spending a lot of time sitting around doing nothing, which was what the boss reasoned at the end of my shift when he handed me some cash and told me in broken English to not come back. My sister thinks it's hilarious, that I was fired after three hours. Mum's pissed, but I find the whole thing puzzlingly amusing.
---
Sophie arrived last Monday! We didn't do loads. Arsed around in each others' company, mainly. She made me watch The Princess Bride, and I was totally surprised by how much I liked it. Classic Monty Python-esq ridiculous comedy. On Tuesday we meandered into Woodbridge and meandered back home again, and spent the rest of the day writing our respective stories with Twilight playing in the background, with all its bad scripting/acting/directing and naked young men as our inspiration. Wednesday and Thursday afternoons, we tried not to hit small children at the holiday club we were volunteering for - but a lot of Thursday morning was spent in the spare room, she writing and I getting angry with Tekken 5, being antisocial together. She is an excellent gaming partner, for the reason that she completely ignores my Steve Fox-oriented ramblings and anguished cries of "No! No! FUCK YOU TO HELL - bollocks, I died" and doesn't tell me to shut the hell up, instead recites little snippets of her writing at me and asks what I think. It's a neat system :)
Rory and Sam and Ben came over on Friday. I don't know about everyone else, but I had a really... pleasant day. I'm happy, in a way I haven't been for a while. Repercussions are on my mind but there's not a lot I can do about them. We made pizza. I didn't actually get to have any but I'm assured that it was good.
I watched The Avengers on Friday night! After months of Tumblr references that I got tired of not understanding, I caved in - and damnit, everyone needs to see it. It's like - if you took everything that is good with the world and put it into a film, Avengers would be the result. Please, watch it! As my first venture into the Marvel universe it was such a great way to spend two hours - and now I'm part of this huge, active fanbase! I now see the full appeal of Tom 'FUCK ME WITH YOUR VOICE' Hiddleston! But Captain America is just too adorable. I want to hug all the mournfulness away. Or get the Doctor to do the same, because he's lonely and out of his time too. They'd understand one another. It's meant to be.
Sometimes I depress myself with my tenacious nerdiness. It's not even endearing, it's just weird.
Want to watch a relentlessly sad video? You know you do.
---
On Saturday I was home alone with the cat. It wasn't too bad. We watched About a Boy, read some Catcher in the Rye, ate pasta, licked our own bollocks and then hairballed it out half an hour later. My cat is disgusting. But he's my disgusting, ugly, bad-tempered fleabag and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I'm off to bake a cake. Talk later.
*Later*
We had no marg. (-arine.) No cake.
---
On Sunday, I had something of an epiphany. I don't know why, it had no relevance to the arsing around I was doing at the time - or perhaps it did - but anyway. We're constantly told to enjoy childhood while we still can, because as we become adults, we gain responsibilities, which lessen the amount of freedom we have. For whatever reason, that only sank in then. I was thinking about going into town that day, when there're no buses, meaning that I'd have had to ask one of my parents for a lift. The drive into town is about fifteen minutes; for me, fifteen minutes there, however many hours spent in town, fifteen minutes back again. But for whoever's giving me a lift, it's double that - half an hour to take me there, and that again to get me home. As a bluntly selfish teenage girl, it's not hard to see that I don't really like doing favours for other people - and when I do do a favour, more often than not there's something in it for me and it doesn't take much time or effort on my part. The idea of being dragged out of the house when I'm happy minding my own business to ferry someone else to where they want to be, thus sacrificing half an hour of my time - and then another half hour when the bastard wants picked up again - is just shit.
---
On Monday my village hosted a street fair. I did my bit, once again, in pretending to be a statue and submitting to abuse from bratty kids in exchange for their parents' money - though, actually, they were nowhere near as bad as I expected them to be. Seeing the pictures, I looked pretty good. My mother really is wonderful - my sister and I both worry about what we're going to do when our children need us to make costumes for them. We're so rubbish at all that! Granny Janny is chief costume designer and maker, it seems like an insult to even try when she's just so much better than me.
---
Tuesday was great. Just, great. There's no other way of describing it in ways in which I'm comfortable with you reading, but on a scale of diabolical to superlatively marvellous, yesterday was roughly between "great" and "wonderful".
---
For several unrelated reasons, James Blunt has been brought to my mind after eight years of prejudice for the abomination that I still believe You're Beautiful to be. Did you know that he served six years in the army? It's just one of those things that... to me, anyway, it automatically places a person on a pedestal of sorts, one that means that, if nothing else, they are worthy of respect, above politicians and lawyers and everything else Tory-biased and well paid. I couldn't be bothered to switch from ITV2 after Notting Hill finished, and I half-watched a programme where Fearne Cotton tailed him around the world as he tours and talked to him about the benefits of partying like a student at thirty-eight. I mean, in all seriousness, his liver must be fucking ruined. Other than coming across as a little self-absorbed, he seems like a sweet guy. He speaks like Benedict Cumberbatch, albeit several octaves higher in pitch. I'm still totally unqualified to come to any sort of conclusion on him as a person, but, he just seems, you know. Nice. I still hate You're Beautiful on the grounds of it being an unreasonably creepy threat of sorts, but he's cool. No Bravery is such a good song. And Wisemen. And Stay the Night. And Goodbye My Lover.
---
It is Wednesday. Today I plan on catching some sun while I still can. And I will actually post now, instead of putting it off for another week.
Have a good last week of the holidays! I'll be alternating between writing my personal report and reading Hamlet, which translates into "rolling around on the floor like a walrus and watching My Name is Earl". Ciao.
 |
| Tom baby your face is just oh I can't even it's just, face. |
