I'm sitting freezing my ass off in the Biology IT room. I was almost too intimidated to blog in a science room. I mean these people can do maths in their head and might grow up to cut me open or something. What can I do? Doodle. That was until the girl sat next to me and went "look! I'm gonna feed my monkey some peanuts!" and did a little dance as she clicked the peanut feeding button.
I was in a soul crushing bus this morning. It was dark, warm, the windows were steamed up completely and my coat is too thin to start wiping away the cold water. Luckily a 44 came up behind us and I jumped ship to minimise walking in the rain in the west end.
Two things got me thinking. A friend of mine upon reading my stuff asked if I had any stories that weren't so sexual. Julie's been asking me questions too since I started writing again. She can't work out how much is true. I can't really either. How much of ourselves do we pour into our written word? I'll admit far more than you might guess is true and much more than I wished is mere fabrication. Am I a suicidal, self-harming lesbian who's afraid of men, commitment and losing control? Or maybe I'm just a dreamer who lingers far too long on missed opportunities, words left unspoken, kisses that lead to nowhere. Maybe what I write is based on personal experience or I weave it into tales I wish were my own. I'm much better now than I was a couple of years ago. Back then everything I wrote was autobiographical and anything I was afraid of letting anyone see I threw in the fantasy. Don't be daft I'm not like her, she's an elf for goodness sake! I like to think now I can blur the lines between reality and story without resorting to pointy ears and tree loving because frankly I was never very good at creating other worlds.
The sexual side of things is easier to explain. For two years I wrote nothing but crap. Everything was abstract, distant. Anything the tiniest bit intimate reminded me of him so no touching thank you, and if you have to well then vague hints will suffice. I'm free now, my imagination runs wild, undressing just about everybody I meet and wondering what they might taste like in the morning.
That said I have pieces so personal I can't bring myself to post them online. Not yet. And until I can, I can't move forward. I write for myself first of all. It's the only way to write. But to write something only to hide it under your bed is a waste and it preys on my mind until I destroy it or rework it enough for someone else's eyes.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Whores will have their trinkets
And mine arrived in the mail today! I may have no money and thus mad hair (honest to god it has stopped listening to me) BUT I have a hamster inside Amy Acker's belly and a panda chasing a pint of Guinness. Money well spent. Plus free ridiculously cute sticker. I always enjoy the free stickers. Modest Mouse sent me a sticker of a whale with a squid inside its belly. I'm not sure what's going on with that but you know FREE.
I know none of you care about football because you all suck and aren't real men so I'll keep it short. Last night was pretty tense. We managed to let in a goal 2 minutes in. It's this Scottish mentality. We have the home advantage but we're playing a tough team who've beaten us away and we absolutely have to win. What do we do? Make it that much more difficult for ourselves. It's the reason Scotland failed to qualify (Mcleish's incompetence aside) and it's why Celtic almost threw it all away. Hurrah for Massimo Donati. They were talking to him after the game and he just kept talking about Milan. He's obsessed with them since they never picked him for the first team. So he's all "I'm happy because we beat Milan when they come here and tonight I score. And we go to Milan to win. And if we not win ehh draw is good." Italians are so cute when they speak English. My Italian teacher could be telling us we had an essay and two tests for the next day and we'd all go "Oh, ok, hug?"
I've been clunking up and down the stairs in my boots. They have heels. Me and heels don't mix well, walking takes a lot of concentration. But they go absolutely perfectly with the dress I wanna wear for Emma's birthday and I bought them months ago and haven't wore them out yet. And there's the added height so I can reach high shelves. Well highish shelves. It's going well. So far I haven't fallen once although there were a couple wobbly moments when I realised you can't lean quite as easily on heels as you can in normal shoes. There must be some sort of heel gene I'm missing. Girls half my age teeter around on heels twice the size of mine and they don't have wobbling problems.
Got my eyes tested. The boy was all "You can have the free NHS test or for just a tenner we can take a picture of your retina and you can keep it. oooo." Fool, like I have a tenner to spend on a picture of something I already own. I spent that tenner on a sandwich and phone credit. Eyes are fine. I'm still half blind but I'm not getting more blind as time goes on so woo.
I know none of you care about football because you all suck and aren't real men so I'll keep it short. Last night was pretty tense. We managed to let in a goal 2 minutes in. It's this Scottish mentality. We have the home advantage but we're playing a tough team who've beaten us away and we absolutely have to win. What do we do? Make it that much more difficult for ourselves. It's the reason Scotland failed to qualify (Mcleish's incompetence aside) and it's why Celtic almost threw it all away. Hurrah for Massimo Donati. They were talking to him after the game and he just kept talking about Milan. He's obsessed with them since they never picked him for the first team. So he's all "I'm happy because we beat Milan when they come here and tonight I score. And we go to Milan to win. And if we not win ehh draw is good." Italians are so cute when they speak English. My Italian teacher could be telling us we had an essay and two tests for the next day and we'd all go "Oh, ok, hug?"
I've been clunking up and down the stairs in my boots. They have heels. Me and heels don't mix well, walking takes a lot of concentration. But they go absolutely perfectly with the dress I wanna wear for Emma's birthday and I bought them months ago and haven't wore them out yet. And there's the added height so I can reach high shelves. Well highish shelves. It's going well. So far I haven't fallen once although there were a couple wobbly moments when I realised you can't lean quite as easily on heels as you can in normal shoes. There must be some sort of heel gene I'm missing. Girls half my age teeter around on heels twice the size of mine and they don't have wobbling problems.
Got my eyes tested. The boy was all "You can have the free NHS test or for just a tenner we can take a picture of your retina and you can keep it. oooo." Fool, like I have a tenner to spend on a picture of something I already own. I spent that tenner on a sandwich and phone credit. Eyes are fine. I'm still half blind but I'm not getting more blind as time goes on so woo.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
The Last High
I had a routine going. For two months I'd hand in an essay on Monday, not think about the next one until Wednesday so I could happily go out on Tuesday. A couple of times I went on Wednesday too giving myself less time and more panicking, I'd get the major framework done on Thursday but not quite enough and finish it all off with a trip to the library on Friday. Double check on Sunday, print on Monday, not think about the next one until Wednesday. It was during these two months that inspiration struck me like an inconvenient lightning bolt and I produced some 15 short stories scrawled between my 4 essays. I handed in my last of the semester on Monday. I haven't written anything new in a week.
It's not that I'm out of ideas like I was so afraid would happen when I began my bed project. I've still got a few kicking around in my head. I just can't seem to get them down on paper. I'm hoping my brain's just a little frazzled and since I have no more deadlines it's taking a break but I hadn't written anything decent in two years. Writing is the last part of me I've won back for myself and if it buggers off again just because there's no more pressure I'm gonna be mighty pissed.
It's not really as bad as I'm making it out to be. I'm 2/3 of the way through a bigger piece involving three nights, three sets of people and one bed. I just haven't had time to finish it, you know now that I have nothing to do. Sometimes I think I like everything to be complicated.
But I'm pretty happy with this new piece. It came to me as I was busy mopping my dad's office, so convenient once again. I had to try and get everything done in my break and scribble the rest in stick figures. This would be why I hate when tutors ask to see my essay plans. Happy now? Everything is in pictorial form and you don't understand it!
I had another angry dream. I keep having dreams on Monday nights when I wake up really pissed at people who don't exist. Puts me in a bad mood all day. But today my tutorial is in the Hunterian Museum. I'm gonna look at some dead people apparently. Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him. Now he's systematically categorised in a little drawer. I wish we were visiting the Anatomy museum instead. I really want to see the babies again. Not for creepy morbid reasons, I just find them beautifully fascinating. Sadly, when you're planning a day out and you say "Hey guys wanna see pickled babies?" There are few excited by the prospect.
It's not that I'm out of ideas like I was so afraid would happen when I began my bed project. I've still got a few kicking around in my head. I just can't seem to get them down on paper. I'm hoping my brain's just a little frazzled and since I have no more deadlines it's taking a break but I hadn't written anything decent in two years. Writing is the last part of me I've won back for myself and if it buggers off again just because there's no more pressure I'm gonna be mighty pissed.
It's not really as bad as I'm making it out to be. I'm 2/3 of the way through a bigger piece involving three nights, three sets of people and one bed. I just haven't had time to finish it, you know now that I have nothing to do. Sometimes I think I like everything to be complicated.
But I'm pretty happy with this new piece. It came to me as I was busy mopping my dad's office, so convenient once again. I had to try and get everything done in my break and scribble the rest in stick figures. This would be why I hate when tutors ask to see my essay plans. Happy now? Everything is in pictorial form and you don't understand it!
I had another angry dream. I keep having dreams on Monday nights when I wake up really pissed at people who don't exist. Puts me in a bad mood all day. But today my tutorial is in the Hunterian Museum. I'm gonna look at some dead people apparently. Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him. Now he's systematically categorised in a little drawer. I wish we were visiting the Anatomy museum instead. I really want to see the babies again. Not for creepy morbid reasons, I just find them beautifully fascinating. Sadly, when you're planning a day out and you say "Hey guys wanna see pickled babies?" There are few excited by the prospect.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Rapunzel
I've been thinking about growing my hair long again. I'm not one of those girls who always go on about wanting their hair cut short once it's long and regret it instantly but every so often I feel like change. Mostly I think it's because my hair needs sorted again and I don't the time or mind to do something about it. Bleh to hairdressers and their crazy ways.
I used to have hair down past my breasts only this was pre-boobage since I cut it all off at age 11. I've kept it at shoulder-length and above since then with one exception. Generally my hair is a big, wavy mass that causes me no end of grief. My grief usually pushes me to run a brush through it, turn my head upside down, give it a good shake and with a little luck it becomes socially acceptable. Waking up has always been a joy when it comes to facing the unruly mop in the mirror and working out whether I even have the time to pull it down before I miss the bus. I don't tend to sleep anywhere other than the comfort of my own bed and fortunately the few times I've crashed somewhere my hair has behaved itself. The man who can face waking up next to the girl with a cockatoo on her head is the man I'll love forever.
So sometimes I stand next to the mirror and wish for long hair that would tumble over my shoulders and bounce it's way down my back. It's really along the lines of my wishing I had red curly hair and long legs and the ability to speak at a level human beings can hear without my tongue tripping over itself. Once my hair reaches a certain length, bam: instant straightification. My long hair laughs at your puny ceramic straighteners, it has the power to straighten itself out completely after hours of twisting and retwisting heated rollers. And while this may sound impressive it leads to a very bland looking girl.
Thus I am stuck with the scruffier, shorter look if I want to look like anything worth looking at. Of course the sheer weight of my hair means untamable kinks and a lot of the time I look like the male population of Glasgow University which either says a lot about me or the guys that study there. Plus there's the fact that guys like long haired girls. Every guy I've been with (bar the crazy David who was really a stop-over between the first and last David) has told me not to cut my hair so with every break up comes a new haircut. The last one was the only guy I grew it for. Then he tells me maybe I should cut it short again because that's the kinda bastard he was.
All of what I've written is what goes through my head everyday I wake up with mad hair and it always ends in the same old brush and shake and dash for the bus. Really I should go get it cut soon, stop the mane from taking over while there's still time but you know that would be sensible.
I used to have hair down past my breasts only this was pre-boobage since I cut it all off at age 11. I've kept it at shoulder-length and above since then with one exception. Generally my hair is a big, wavy mass that causes me no end of grief. My grief usually pushes me to run a brush through it, turn my head upside down, give it a good shake and with a little luck it becomes socially acceptable. Waking up has always been a joy when it comes to facing the unruly mop in the mirror and working out whether I even have the time to pull it down before I miss the bus. I don't tend to sleep anywhere other than the comfort of my own bed and fortunately the few times I've crashed somewhere my hair has behaved itself. The man who can face waking up next to the girl with a cockatoo on her head is the man I'll love forever.
So sometimes I stand next to the mirror and wish for long hair that would tumble over my shoulders and bounce it's way down my back. It's really along the lines of my wishing I had red curly hair and long legs and the ability to speak at a level human beings can hear without my tongue tripping over itself. Once my hair reaches a certain length, bam: instant straightification. My long hair laughs at your puny ceramic straighteners, it has the power to straighten itself out completely after hours of twisting and retwisting heated rollers. And while this may sound impressive it leads to a very bland looking girl.
Thus I am stuck with the scruffier, shorter look if I want to look like anything worth looking at. Of course the sheer weight of my hair means untamable kinks and a lot of the time I look like the male population of Glasgow University which either says a lot about me or the guys that study there. Plus there's the fact that guys like long haired girls. Every guy I've been with (bar the crazy David who was really a stop-over between the first and last David) has told me not to cut my hair so with every break up comes a new haircut. The last one was the only guy I grew it for. Then he tells me maybe I should cut it short again because that's the kinda bastard he was.
All of what I've written is what goes through my head everyday I wake up with mad hair and it always ends in the same old brush and shake and dash for the bus. Really I should go get it cut soon, stop the mane from taking over while there's still time but you know that would be sensible.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Let them eat cake
For I have completed my final essay of the semester.
Hurray...oh fuck it I'm too dead to even party. One of you guys party for me.
blehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Hurray...oh fuck it I'm too dead to even party. One of you guys party for me.
blehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
There's Two Lads Sharing an Epiphany
I'm one third through my last essay. Pretty good really. I'm having a break since I've overwritten lately. Not anything academic like I should have of course but you know it's all good. I went far too long without picking up a pen, my fingers aren't as tough as they once were. I'm all happy cause I passed my first Classics essay although RobeMan did not take too kindly to my feminist arguments. Accused me of swallowing exaggerated ideas. He put the feminism on the reading list, not my fault if I agreed with them. But then I probably didn't argue very hard. What's the point when you're only asked to write 1500 words and then you get criticised for not mentioning one girl who turns up for half a chapter and is never heard of again. Anyway, essay going ok but absolutely have to finish tonight.
Ugh I'm bored.
I managed to find the most hilariously entertaining toilet in the library today. I could have spent all day reading the walls in there. There were whole manifestos and poems and people correcting spelling and grammar and then bitching about it. Sadly I had classes to go to and it's rather unseemly to spend all of one's time hanging around in a bathroom all day. One of the best ones was this long rant about how the patriarchy was holding us back and we should wake up and realise that men and women are the same which someone had circled and pointed out that we are very much different, which we should all have noticed seeing as we were in the toilet reading it. The first girl ended with a large slogan of "Peace Now" only someone else had crosses out the Peace and added in Piss.
There was also this dainty little sticker with a picture of the Uni on it, real smart looking, stuck on straight and neatly to the door. What was it for? Glasgow University Anarchy Group.
I was looking to see if the new Dirty Pretty Things album was coming out anytime soon when I realised that I read ages ago that Carl Barât has a sister who is also musical. So I looked her up and while I'm not usually a fan of female English accents I want to steal her voice and use it as my own. I'm sure she won't mind.
Listen for yourself.
Ugh I'm bored.
I managed to find the most hilariously entertaining toilet in the library today. I could have spent all day reading the walls in there. There were whole manifestos and poems and people correcting spelling and grammar and then bitching about it. Sadly I had classes to go to and it's rather unseemly to spend all of one's time hanging around in a bathroom all day. One of the best ones was this long rant about how the patriarchy was holding us back and we should wake up and realise that men and women are the same which someone had circled and pointed out that we are very much different, which we should all have noticed seeing as we were in the toilet reading it. The first girl ended with a large slogan of "Peace Now" only someone else had crosses out the Peace and added in Piss.
There was also this dainty little sticker with a picture of the Uni on it, real smart looking, stuck on straight and neatly to the door. What was it for? Glasgow University Anarchy Group.
I was looking to see if the new Dirty Pretty Things album was coming out anytime soon when I realised that I read ages ago that Carl Barât has a sister who is also musical. So I looked her up and while I'm not usually a fan of female English accents I want to steal her voice and use it as my own. I'm sure she won't mind.
Listen for yourself.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
What became of the Likely Lads
Bleeeeeeeeeeh. My last essay is the worst. I actually have nothing to say. It's one of those here's a quote we just made up, not even from like a historian or critic or whatever but from a Glasgow Student from the 70s apparently, and then that dreaded word: Discuss. Plus there's the problem that I haven't read much of the book yet and it's for Monday. Tomorrow will be fun times in the library again. But you know last essay of the semester so next Tuesday I will have my no more essays dance.
My lip is really annoying me now. Since it went all tingly a while ago I've been chewing at it, mostly in my sleep. Then when I'm spending all my time on buses I can't help but bite it. The little line bothers me. Stupid drunk people who can't stand.
I saw a guy on the train that looked exactly like Carl Barât. I could not stop looking at him, it was uncanny. I was waiting for a crazy junkie to turn up and reform the Libertines right there at Mount Florida.
Sadly it was not to be.
Forbidden Planet are constantly lying to everyone. For once this was a good thing. I walked past the window on Wednesday and they have "On sale Thursday" and the comics all nicely displayed. Now I've tried buying a comic a day early but never gotten lucky so when I went in with Emma I really had to hold myself back when I glanced up at the new comics shelf and there it was:
Emma was not impressed. Not even by the dragon.
My lip is really annoying me now. Since it went all tingly a while ago I've been chewing at it, mostly in my sleep. Then when I'm spending all my time on buses I can't help but bite it. The little line bothers me. Stupid drunk people who can't stand.
I saw a guy on the train that looked exactly like Carl Barât. I could not stop looking at him, it was uncanny. I was waiting for a crazy junkie to turn up and reform the Libertines right there at Mount Florida.
Sadly it was not to be.
Forbidden Planet are constantly lying to everyone. For once this was a good thing. I walked past the window on Wednesday and they have "On sale Thursday" and the comics all nicely displayed. Now I've tried buying a comic a day early but never gotten lucky so when I went in with Emma I really had to hold myself back when I glanced up at the new comics shelf and there it was:
Emma was not impressed. Not even by the dragon.
Whats it got in its pocketses?
I'll tell you what I've got. Anything I damn well want. I have finally found a pair of jeans with proper pockets, fit for phones, keys, spare change and a miniature flying monkey or two. No more pointless girl pockets for me thank you very much. My mother despairs. Tells me I should get a handbag like a real girl. These magical jeans not only have real pockets, they also only cost £20 and make my ass look pretty good. The inevitable down side? Alas the sizing went 8 regular to 14 regular so I had to hunt in the tall section and tall is something I am not. Gone are the days I could happily fit into a size 8 with no problems. I think that lasted about 6 months before my hips came back. Then there was the dreary period where the only jeans available were either skinny or mens. I could starve myself to death and never fit into skinny jeans (but hurrah for being able to bear children, right?) and mens jeans are fine if you want to look like you have a penis. Thus I have a great pair of jeans with several inches of extra leg.
Saw Emma and Beowulf yesterday. I've missed her like crazy but we made up for lost time with pretend lesbian shenanigans on tuesday. Always fun. Beowulf was pretty good. I thought it might be all ridiculous but it was entertaining, and when the animation was at its best you could almost believe Angelina Jolie really was naked on screen.
Also despite my whole post about Scottish football and not hating the English I'm saying this anyway: Har har England lost. Was actually a pretty good game to watch. Croatia were very good and Peter Crouch is always hilarious to see. He's more leg than man!
When Ian Wright was talking about it about the game was over and he was all "I'm bitterly disappointed" My dad chucked rather evilly and said: "That's what makes England losing all the better for me." I think it was the only reason the game was on in our house. Oh dad, you so crazy with your personal vendettas against former football players!
Saw Emma and Beowulf yesterday. I've missed her like crazy but we made up for lost time with pretend lesbian shenanigans on tuesday. Always fun. Beowulf was pretty good. I thought it might be all ridiculous but it was entertaining, and when the animation was at its best you could almost believe Angelina Jolie really was naked on screen.
Also despite my whole post about Scottish football and not hating the English I'm saying this anyway: Har har England lost. Was actually a pretty good game to watch. Croatia were very good and Peter Crouch is always hilarious to see. He's more leg than man!
When Ian Wright was talking about it about the game was over and he was all "I'm bitterly disappointed" My dad chucked rather evilly and said: "That's what makes England losing all the better for me." I think it was the only reason the game was on in our house. Oh dad, you so crazy with your personal vendettas against former football players!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Watch out for saturn spinning wildly towards that big black thing over there, your crush will hate you.
My email thing was down this morning so I had to check it manually instead. It's always so slow and I've gotta sign in like three times for reasons I can't be bothered working out. So I was waiting for the mail page to load and looking at all the pretty little blue ?s since half the stuff won't work on Safari when I noticed my horoscope at the bottom of the page that I don't remember setting to be there but whatever. I always like reading them. Especially the ridiculously specific ones you get nowadays. If you like a guy and you're single and have a job and either came into a lot of money or lost a lot of money recently and maybe you were thinking about getting a hair cut, maybe now is the time to buy a puppy. This one was a little weird:
Drink plenty of water, dear Capricorn, in order to keep your system properly hydrated. Water is the most important part of your diet, and it is likely that you are not drinking nearly enough. Being a water sign means that this element is the foundation of your being, making you extremely emotional, caring, and sensitive. Make sure to distance yourself from people who try to suck this life force from you.
Now, first off I was actually drinking water when I read this. Secondly "dear Capricorn"? Like it's some sort of kindly old lady and I'm the uninterested goat-fish thing from next door that just wanted my ball back from her garden. Yeah ok, I could blame my emotions on my star sign that seems fair but to claim that I have to drinks tons of water because it's 'the foundation of my being'? No shit. Water would be the foundation of all us humans never mind all this water sign crap. You don't see all the fire elementals jumping in the oven eight times a day to replenish their life force now do you. It was the last line that killed me though. Get back you water sucking devils you!
Then I realised holy shit, I'll be 19 in like a month. 19 seems way too old. I haven't done half the things I always thought I'd do by now. Like learn to drive and move out and have a whirlwind affair with an attractive guitarist. But then the thought hasn't exactly kick-started me into doing anything about it. I made some toast, wrote a short story and missed my history class all whilst hiding from the window cleaner cause I've got no money for him. That's my life now. Thrilling.
Drink plenty of water, dear Capricorn, in order to keep your system properly hydrated. Water is the most important part of your diet, and it is likely that you are not drinking nearly enough. Being a water sign means that this element is the foundation of your being, making you extremely emotional, caring, and sensitive. Make sure to distance yourself from people who try to suck this life force from you.
Now, first off I was actually drinking water when I read this. Secondly "dear Capricorn"? Like it's some sort of kindly old lady and I'm the uninterested goat-fish thing from next door that just wanted my ball back from her garden. Yeah ok, I could blame my emotions on my star sign that seems fair but to claim that I have to drinks tons of water because it's 'the foundation of my being'? No shit. Water would be the foundation of all us humans never mind all this water sign crap. You don't see all the fire elementals jumping in the oven eight times a day to replenish their life force now do you. It was the last line that killed me though. Get back you water sucking devils you!
Then I realised holy shit, I'll be 19 in like a month. 19 seems way too old. I haven't done half the things I always thought I'd do by now. Like learn to drive and move out and have a whirlwind affair with an attractive guitarist. But then the thought hasn't exactly kick-started me into doing anything about it. I made some toast, wrote a short story and missed my history class all whilst hiding from the window cleaner cause I've got no money for him. That's my life now. Thrilling.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Julian Casablancas Appreciation Post
Lesson Learned: Do not celebrate your speakers working again by putting The Strokes on full volume and dancing round your house in your underwear. The postman who has been knocking on the door for 5 mins does not enjoy your attempts at a drunk New York accent.
I'll be in my bunk.
I'll be in my bunk.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Mon pays
I've never been particularly patriotic. I remember learning about the Scottish Wars of Independence in primary six and feeling something resembling pride. I wasn't so thrilled watching Braveheart, all I saw was Mel Gibson. But I remember the trip to Stirling and being annoyed that there was a union jack flying in Stirling Castle. The whole class was fired up in a Scottish rage against those damn English although this probably didn't mean anything since just the year before we were fired up in a British rage against the Germans after doing the Second World War. We would shake our fists at the one Mercedes in the teacher's car park. I was outraged when my little sister did not study the Wars of Independence. Instead her class did some Enterprise rubbish. To this day she knows little about William Wallace and doesn't know the story of good ol' Rob and the spider in the cave.
I have never sung the national anthem bar the once in primary seven when we all sang it among other songs. I have nothing against the English and feel having a national song about how we killed those evil English bastards is ridiculous. Even the lyrics make no sense "It's in the past now and in the past it must remain" so lets all sing about it every time we play football? And besides we signed it all away in 1707 so why sing about it? I wouldn't even sing it if we were playing England. I used to go to Scotland games regularly but some of the people who go, god. It's shameful. I've been going to Celtic games every week for 8 years and never experienced people as bad as these Scotland fans. Drunken racists who've punched, kicked and groped me over the years. We stopped going a while ago but since we were playing Italy and we had a chance of getting a ticket my dad bought them. Thankfully, the people around us yesterday were reasonable. There was a guy who called the female football team a bunch of lesbians and the guy who walked straight into my bruised knee at the end (which made working today a fuckin nightmare) but it was fine. I had fun with my dad mocking the group sitting behind us. (Do you ken? Naw I dinnae ken, do you ken? Aye I ken.) I knew how important the game was. We were playing Italy. If we won not only would we proceed for once but we would have won against Italy of all countries. Yet, I just couldn't get excited. And it was hard to feel anything when we let in a goal within the first minute.
I cared when it was drawing close to the final whistle and it was a draw. I cared when McFadden missed what would have been a perfect goal. I cared when we lost so unfairly. But I went home and I got over it.
Saying this I did vote for the party whose primary aim is independence. Do I want independence then after arguing that I don't like our national anthem, mock the way we speak and don't hate the English even a little bit? I don't really mind. I voted them because it would shake things up, I liked their other policies and wouldn't it be hilarious if we became independent while Gordon Brown was still prime minister and suddenly he loses his British nationality? Hell yeah it would.
On a completely different topic, guess what's on TV again? Come with us now, on a journey through time and space, to the world of the Mighty Boosh!
I have never sung the national anthem bar the once in primary seven when we all sang it among other songs. I have nothing against the English and feel having a national song about how we killed those evil English bastards is ridiculous. Even the lyrics make no sense "It's in the past now and in the past it must remain" so lets all sing about it every time we play football? And besides we signed it all away in 1707 so why sing about it? I wouldn't even sing it if we were playing England. I used to go to Scotland games regularly but some of the people who go, god. It's shameful. I've been going to Celtic games every week for 8 years and never experienced people as bad as these Scotland fans. Drunken racists who've punched, kicked and groped me over the years. We stopped going a while ago but since we were playing Italy and we had a chance of getting a ticket my dad bought them. Thankfully, the people around us yesterday were reasonable. There was a guy who called the female football team a bunch of lesbians and the guy who walked straight into my bruised knee at the end (which made working today a fuckin nightmare) but it was fine. I had fun with my dad mocking the group sitting behind us. (Do you ken? Naw I dinnae ken, do you ken? Aye I ken.) I knew how important the game was. We were playing Italy. If we won not only would we proceed for once but we would have won against Italy of all countries. Yet, I just couldn't get excited. And it was hard to feel anything when we let in a goal within the first minute.
I cared when it was drawing close to the final whistle and it was a draw. I cared when McFadden missed what would have been a perfect goal. I cared when we lost so unfairly. But I went home and I got over it.
Saying this I did vote for the party whose primary aim is independence. Do I want independence then after arguing that I don't like our national anthem, mock the way we speak and don't hate the English even a little bit? I don't really mind. I voted them because it would shake things up, I liked their other policies and wouldn't it be hilarious if we became independent while Gordon Brown was still prime minister and suddenly he loses his British nationality? Hell yeah it would.
On a completely different topic, guess what's on TV again? Come with us now, on a journey through time and space, to the world of the Mighty Boosh!
Friday, November 16, 2007
My speakers are working erractically now, still too angry to blog
"You really need to know the dates of the texts you're reading. I'm not asking for exact dates but it is essential if you want to succeed in this class."
Whatever man, I managed to see 16 as 18 this morning which is why I'm 20 minutes late for your class, so forgive me if I didn't want to say "5th century maybe?" since I couldn't remember if that was the dates for Herodotus or for some stones in Govan Old Church. I had to waffle on for ages about the Delphic oracle just to recover from that lecturing. Stupid robeman. I hate answering in that class, nobody ever wants to say anything and I usually know the answer (my head is packed full of useless information from Greek literature) so then I just seem like the huge geek I am. On the plus side it's keeping Mouseface at a safe distance. Mostly from the shouting over his wrong answer thing last week. I mean it was bloody obvious it was Athena, she had the owl!
Archaeology essay is done thank god. I missed getting drunk with the loveliest girl tonight. Not that she would be drunk, she's too lovely but I could have got drunk and told her how lovely she was. Archaeology stopped this happening! One the plus side we learnt about this guy who asked to be mummifed and put on display in a Uni but the students kept stealing his head so they locked it away after they caught some guys playing football with it.
Only one more essay to go this semester on a book I haven't finished. Gonna be fun next week!
Whatever man, I managed to see 16 as 18 this morning which is why I'm 20 minutes late for your class, so forgive me if I didn't want to say "5th century maybe?" since I couldn't remember if that was the dates for Herodotus or for some stones in Govan Old Church. I had to waffle on for ages about the Delphic oracle just to recover from that lecturing. Stupid robeman. I hate answering in that class, nobody ever wants to say anything and I usually know the answer (my head is packed full of useless information from Greek literature) so then I just seem like the huge geek I am. On the plus side it's keeping Mouseface at a safe distance. Mostly from the shouting over his wrong answer thing last week. I mean it was bloody obvious it was Athena, she had the owl!
Archaeology essay is done thank god. I missed getting drunk with the loveliest girl tonight. Not that she would be drunk, she's too lovely but I could have got drunk and told her how lovely she was. Archaeology stopped this happening! One the plus side we learnt about this guy who asked to be mummifed and put on display in a Uni but the students kept stealing his head so they locked it away after they caught some guys playing football with it.
Only one more essay to go this semester on a book I haven't finished. Gonna be fun next week!
Thursday, November 15, 2007
THIS. IS. sorry where now?
You know you picked a good day to turn up for your classes when the first thing RobeMan says is "So, how many of you saw that film that was out not that long ago called 300?" Surprisingly few of us had but then this is a class of bores. That's right my Uni may be the fairest of them all but sweet jesus are they dull. Of course RobeMan then immediately followed the question with disparaging comments about the historical inaccuracies. Well of course most of it is a load of rubbish, it's a film not a documentary! But then he called it the worst classical film ever. Hear that Brad? You're off the hook it would seem. Yes, pout, pout, pout. S'all you did really apart from kill the only good actor in that film.
Apparently they actually did ok in their depiction of Spartans. You know apart from the really ridiculous things. But he had a problem with the politics. Wait sir, you mean the Queen wasn't a total idiot who is strong and powerful because instead of speaking strongly in front of the assembly and convincing them (which she did in the end anyway so what was the problem) she'll just let that guy rape her, cause you know...No actually I don't know. It was really fucking stupid and awkward. Just leave the women out of it if you can't think of anything for them to do but have sex. We can do other things too! Most of us at least.
Anyway, yeah Spartans. Brilliantly mad they were. They had an a council where they made decisions by shouting, kinda like a battle of the bands only instead of hopeful young boys who know 3 chords but are almost there with that hand-cramp inducing C, they had 28 60 year old men. Woo?
Here's a story of how badass the Spartans were. A Spartan boy stole a fox and because he didn't want to be caught he hid it up his cloak. The fox scrambled to get away and in doing so ripped the boy to pieces. The boy kept it there though because he didn't want punished. The fox killed him instead. THATS HOW HARDCORE WE ARE. FOXES RIP OUR GUTS OUT BUT WE DONT SAY ANYTHING. I call that pretty fucking stupid but maybe that's why I'll never be a real man.
I have 1150 words to go for this stupid essay. You may have noticed that instead I wrote a 800 word story instead. Umm oops?
One last thing. Hot classics guy? Totally chatting up this girl from my Indy lessons. Tall, blonde, knows how to talk to people instead of just mumbling to herself like a crazy person. I'm not even gonna try and compete with pretty, coherent girls. Ah well, I think I only liked him for his sideburns anyway.
Apparently they actually did ok in their depiction of Spartans. You know apart from the really ridiculous things. But he had a problem with the politics. Wait sir, you mean the Queen wasn't a total idiot who is strong and powerful because instead of speaking strongly in front of the assembly and convincing them (which she did in the end anyway so what was the problem) she'll just let that guy rape her, cause you know...No actually I don't know. It was really fucking stupid and awkward. Just leave the women out of it if you can't think of anything for them to do but have sex. We can do other things too! Most of us at least.
Anyway, yeah Spartans. Brilliantly mad they were. They had an a council where they made decisions by shouting, kinda like a battle of the bands only instead of hopeful young boys who know 3 chords but are almost there with that hand-cramp inducing C, they had 28 60 year old men. Woo?
Here's a story of how badass the Spartans were. A Spartan boy stole a fox and because he didn't want to be caught he hid it up his cloak. The fox scrambled to get away and in doing so ripped the boy to pieces. The boy kept it there though because he didn't want punished. The fox killed him instead. THATS HOW HARDCORE WE ARE. FOXES RIP OUR GUTS OUT BUT WE DONT SAY ANYTHING. I call that pretty fucking stupid but maybe that's why I'll never be a real man.
I have 1150 words to go for this stupid essay. You may have noticed that instead I wrote a 800 word story instead. Umm oops?
One last thing. Hot classics guy? Totally chatting up this girl from my Indy lessons. Tall, blonde, knows how to talk to people instead of just mumbling to herself like a crazy person. I'm not even gonna try and compete with pretty, coherent girls. Ah well, I think I only liked him for his sideburns anyway.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Find all the lyrics, win a prize!
Stop me if you think you're heard this one before
Ten-fifteen on a Saturday night. The band were playing in a bar across town. Ziggy played guitar. I was his groupie and just as famous for being so as the band themselves. Dan, the bartender, had my order ready by the time I arrived. Two shots of whisky and a beer chaser. He shouted something to me over the support band. I leaned in to hear him better, my hair trailing in the sticky puddles between us.
"Must be great dating a musician."
I rolled my eyes and stretched my stiff neck. I had to ride in the back of the van with the instruments like I was part of the set.
"Glamorous indie rock and roll. It's all I need."
I raised my glass to Dan and weaved through the gathering crowd to my place in front of the stage. The support act weren't bad, studenty and a bit obvious but the beat was good. I was tapping along politely when I noticed Ziggy dancing with some blonde by the bar. They were dangerously close to one another. The perfume burned his eyes, holding tightly to her thighs and something flickered for a minute and then it vanished and was gone.
The support announced their last song and he put his arms around me and let me believe that he was someone else. It took me back to the first time we were together.
I'd seen him around before. We both drank at the same bar regularly enough to say hello to each other. One day he asked me to dance and we swayed all the way back to my flat. He had kissed me at the door and whispered hints of romance.
"I'm thinking it's a sign that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned."
He bewitched me into bed and sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
The blonde waved coyly to the man who held me. I wheeled round to face him but he shrugged off my accusations.
"She turns me on but I'm only dancing."
He jumped on stage and launched into our song. He had written it in my bed one night while we watched the rain bouncing off the skylight and we planned our future. Ziggy sang to me, his eyes begging me to forget, forgive. He moved his mouth, shook his tongue. He vibrated my eardrums. He said words but he knew I wasn't listening. I went home instead. The cold air blew away the pain in my head. I thought maybe if I sobered up I could stop pretending that love is forever. I wished things could go back to the way they were at the beginning. I was happier then with no mind-set.
But my bed was oh so cold. My hands felt empty, no one to hold. I couldn't sleep until he was resting there with me. My room was a shrine to that man. His clothes littered my floor, broken strings lay like traps between the folds. This land was mine but I let him rule and he invaded me, conquered my space. My pillow held the memory of his sweet head. It drove me insane.
I didn't hear him come in but there was Ziggy inches away from my face.
"Hey blue eyes. I just wanna sing a song with you."
I wanted to resist him but feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues and feeling good was good enough for me. I welcomed him into my bed where he belonged on one condition:
"Make love to me forever."
He made me feel like the one.
Later when we were still, the fear crept back in again and I woke Ziggy up.
"These songs that you sing do they mean anything to the people you're singing them to?"
I had to push him before he would answer and when he finally did his voice was thick with sleep.
"Yeah, right now, but not that often."
Ten-fifteen on a Saturday night. The band were playing in a bar across town. Ziggy played guitar. I was his groupie and just as famous for being so as the band themselves. Dan, the bartender, had my order ready by the time I arrived. Two shots of whisky and a beer chaser. He shouted something to me over the support band. I leaned in to hear him better, my hair trailing in the sticky puddles between us.
"Must be great dating a musician."
I rolled my eyes and stretched my stiff neck. I had to ride in the back of the van with the instruments like I was part of the set.
"Glamorous indie rock and roll. It's all I need."
I raised my glass to Dan and weaved through the gathering crowd to my place in front of the stage. The support act weren't bad, studenty and a bit obvious but the beat was good. I was tapping along politely when I noticed Ziggy dancing with some blonde by the bar. They were dangerously close to one another. The perfume burned his eyes, holding tightly to her thighs and something flickered for a minute and then it vanished and was gone.
The support announced their last song and he put his arms around me and let me believe that he was someone else. It took me back to the first time we were together.
I'd seen him around before. We both drank at the same bar regularly enough to say hello to each other. One day he asked me to dance and we swayed all the way back to my flat. He had kissed me at the door and whispered hints of romance.
"I'm thinking it's a sign that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned."
He bewitched me into bed and sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
The blonde waved coyly to the man who held me. I wheeled round to face him but he shrugged off my accusations.
"She turns me on but I'm only dancing."
He jumped on stage and launched into our song. He had written it in my bed one night while we watched the rain bouncing off the skylight and we planned our future. Ziggy sang to me, his eyes begging me to forget, forgive. He moved his mouth, shook his tongue. He vibrated my eardrums. He said words but he knew I wasn't listening. I went home instead. The cold air blew away the pain in my head. I thought maybe if I sobered up I could stop pretending that love is forever. I wished things could go back to the way they were at the beginning. I was happier then with no mind-set.
But my bed was oh so cold. My hands felt empty, no one to hold. I couldn't sleep until he was resting there with me. My room was a shrine to that man. His clothes littered my floor, broken strings lay like traps between the folds. This land was mine but I let him rule and he invaded me, conquered my space. My pillow held the memory of his sweet head. It drove me insane.
I didn't hear him come in but there was Ziggy inches away from my face.
"Hey blue eyes. I just wanna sing a song with you."
I wanted to resist him but feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues and feeling good was good enough for me. I welcomed him into my bed where he belonged on one condition:
"Make love to me forever."
He made me feel like the one.
Later when we were still, the fear crept back in again and I woke Ziggy up.
"These songs that you sing do they mean anything to the people you're singing them to?"
I had to push him before he would answer and when he finally did his voice was thick with sleep.
"Yeah, right now, but not that often."
No Brainer
I saw Planet Terror last night! Everything was on fire! Giant plot holes were everywhere and also on fire! I wanna have Robert Rodriguez's babies! Except not so much, his kids names are hilarious like Rebel and Rocket. When your husband picks names like these for your children you know you have made a mistake. Anyway back to the fire. It was so much better than Death Proof, which was good but not as fun bar the last 10 minutes, and yet no publicity. When I tried to find it on the Cineworld website it kept telling me it didn't even exist until I managed to find it hidden away. But it doesn't matter anymore because I've seen it and thus Joe wins the previously mentioned unconditional love for arranging the viewing. I figure this balances out the fact that I kept hitting him last night. Sorry Joe! It was the excitement of fire and hot girls with gun legs that made me do it!
In other news I am now slighter less poor! The SRC just called me to tell me 11 of my 13 books have been sold and I can pick up the pennies anytime. Woo and hoo people.
I had jalapeños last night in a sub. I've not had them in ages and they were so good. Problem is since they were so hot and outside was so cold and my lips were all tingly somehow this all combined and I can feel the scar inside my lip again. I got kicked in the face by a drunk man at a concert when I was fifteen and the cut on my lip didn't heal properly for ages. I can usually only feel it with my tongue if I try real hard but sometimes, like now, it's pretty much all I can feel. Pretty damn distracting.
I'm just procrastinating. I should be writing my archaeology essay on the Govan Old Church but it's so hard to care and I have too many ideas for better things to write. But sadly I can't spent all my days writing whatever I fancy.
In other news I am now slighter less poor! The SRC just called me to tell me 11 of my 13 books have been sold and I can pick up the pennies anytime. Woo and hoo people.
I had jalapeños last night in a sub. I've not had them in ages and they were so good. Problem is since they were so hot and outside was so cold and my lips were all tingly somehow this all combined and I can feel the scar inside my lip again. I got kicked in the face by a drunk man at a concert when I was fifteen and the cut on my lip didn't heal properly for ages. I can usually only feel it with my tongue if I try real hard but sometimes, like now, it's pretty much all I can feel. Pretty damn distracting.
I'm just procrastinating. I should be writing my archaeology essay on the Govan Old Church but it's so hard to care and I have too many ideas for better things to write. But sadly I can't spent all my days writing whatever I fancy.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
My Speakers broke and I'm too mad to blog about them so they're in the title instead
I got a new phone today! Same number though because it's not really a new phone it's just time for another shift in technology in the Kittycat household. Usually this wouldn't happen for another year or so but then the iphone came out and my dad ran out and got one. My new phone does things like not take half a hour to open a new text message and fancy things like take good photos and play music! Although I had to download several things for music playing. Sometimes it sucks having only Macs in the house. Owait no it doesn't, my laptop is too pretty to be annoying! Anyway I worked it out thanks to the internet and now I can have music although it only uploads a selection of what I tell it to and in a seemingly random order. Do I really care? No. Because now I can have Golden Years everytime somebody texts me. What a world we live in!
In less !full news I just looked at myself in the mirror and my hair has gone mad again. By now you'd think it would be fine. I've got the hairdresser dealio sorted with a girl who talks at me instead of asking me questions and cuts my hair pretty much how I want it. The problem arises when we take a gander into my purse. I spent my last pennies on tshirts from the internet. So I will have crazy man hair BUT I will be wearing this top:
Sexy, non?
In less !full news I just looked at myself in the mirror and my hair has gone mad again. By now you'd think it would be fine. I've got the hairdresser dealio sorted with a girl who talks at me instead of asking me questions and cuts my hair pretty much how I want it. The problem arises when we take a gander into my purse. I spent my last pennies on tshirts from the internet. So I will have crazy man hair BUT I will be wearing this top:
Sexy, non?
Friday, November 9, 2007
Know your Onion!
Bill Bailey tonight! Time for laughs and funny noises from keyboards. Sad thing is he added like a bunch of other dates to his tour after I got my ticket and who decides to play tonight? Only The Shins boys and girls. Only Catherine's favouritest band who she missed seeing earlier this year and shed a very small tear.
Guys I love you and want to support you so STOP TOURING ON INCONVIENT NIGHTS, I WOULD HAVE BOUGHT A TSHIRT OR SOMETHING, SANG TUNELESSLY AND DANCED LIKE A WHORE. YOU ARE MISSING OUT.
That is all.
Guys I love you and want to support you so STOP TOURING ON INCONVIENT NIGHTS, I WOULD HAVE BOUGHT A TSHIRT OR SOMETHING, SANG TUNELESSLY AND DANCED LIKE A WHORE. YOU ARE MISSING OUT.
That is all.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Jane said she'd read them and that's enough for me
So I created the blog. So far I've only posted my lesbian story so if you haven't read it and want to or if you've already read it and want to give me a big hello! comment it can be viewed Here
I've got two more written that need to be redrafted first so expect updates either late tonight or tomorrow.
Now for the actual blogging.
I took Emma to the Wicca shop yesterday. She was looking all glum and rawr people suck but you can't be unhappy in the wicca shop! It has too many pretty things even though I'm not sure what many of them do. I'm not one to write off something I don't get though, not when Irish wishing stones work and people say the exact same things to me as they did in my dreams. Seriously guys, GET OUT OF MY HEAD.
Then we went and saw Elizabeth which was very pretty and Clive Owen was very gorgeous even with the crazy beard thing he had going for him. While I was waiting for Emma to get back from the toilet this old woman sat next to me and asked what we were seeing and oh how nice she was also seeing Elizabeth. Because she fancies Clive Owen and she didn't think Brad Pitt would have her. Back off old lady Clive Owen is mine. I've loved him ever since he screamed at Julia Roberts and told her he was a fucking caveman. King Arthur was pretty in all it's Clivey and Keiray goodness but that's a film I can only watch while hyped up on sugar. Yeah man let's beat those bastard romans and have instant orgasms in tents and make Lancelot sad!! Rawr.
Elizabeth was pretty though and there were, admittedly pretty gay, moments between the two Elizabeths that were really nice. I could have watched a lot more Samantha Morton even with her 'hurr I'm Mary Queen of Scots. Hear my Scottish accent? Say what? I spent most of my life in France and spoke with a French accent? Shuddap I just spent ages learning how to speak like this and I don't know how to stop!" She was very good at her execution scene. I'm too lazy to describe it and Emma already has so read hers.
I'm working on getting people to come see Planet Terror with me. So far I have Emma saying "no, no, no, no, maybe if there were tons of other people there, no, no, no, Catherine stop doing drunken zombie impressions!, no, no, no." I think it looks promising. If you're a person and would like to gain my unconditional love you're very welcome to take me to the cinema.
I've got two more written that need to be redrafted first so expect updates either late tonight or tomorrow.
Now for the actual blogging.
I took Emma to the Wicca shop yesterday. She was looking all glum and rawr people suck but you can't be unhappy in the wicca shop! It has too many pretty things even though I'm not sure what many of them do. I'm not one to write off something I don't get though, not when Irish wishing stones work and people say the exact same things to me as they did in my dreams. Seriously guys, GET OUT OF MY HEAD.
Then we went and saw Elizabeth which was very pretty and Clive Owen was very gorgeous even with the crazy beard thing he had going for him. While I was waiting for Emma to get back from the toilet this old woman sat next to me and asked what we were seeing and oh how nice she was also seeing Elizabeth. Because she fancies Clive Owen and she didn't think Brad Pitt would have her. Back off old lady Clive Owen is mine. I've loved him ever since he screamed at Julia Roberts and told her he was a fucking caveman. King Arthur was pretty in all it's Clivey and Keiray goodness but that's a film I can only watch while hyped up on sugar. Yeah man let's beat those bastard romans and have instant orgasms in tents and make Lancelot sad!! Rawr.
Elizabeth was pretty though and there were, admittedly pretty gay, moments between the two Elizabeths that were really nice. I could have watched a lot more Samantha Morton even with her 'hurr I'm Mary Queen of Scots. Hear my Scottish accent? Say what? I spent most of my life in France and spoke with a French accent? Shuddap I just spent ages learning how to speak like this and I don't know how to stop!" She was very good at her execution scene. I'm too lazy to describe it and Emma already has so read hers.
I'm working on getting people to come see Planet Terror with me. So far I have Emma saying "no, no, no, no, maybe if there were tons of other people there, no, no, no, Catherine stop doing drunken zombie impressions!, no, no, no." I think it looks promising. If you're a person and would like to gain my unconditional love you're very welcome to take me to the cinema.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Pillow Talk
I had an idea for a collection of short stories. I've got quite a few ideas kicking around in my head including my lesbian one I brought to the writer's group and if I get round to writing enough of them I might start another blog and put them up there.
The theme is beds and what happens in them.
I pitched this to Julie:
Kiss me, I have no night vision says:
it would be a series of stories about bed, like conversations with friends and lovers and sisters stuff like that
The Awesomest Julie™ ~GFCH~ "Oh that is right, you won't be eating lunch because I am going to kill you now." says:
ew
Kiss me, I have no night vision says:
i havent got a name for it yet, but i've got a lotta ideas
Kiss me, I have no night vision says:
sorry what?
Kiss me, I have no night vision says:
EW?
The Awesomest Julie™ ~GFCH~ "Oh that is right, you won't be eating lunch because I am going to kill you now." says:
"sex"
"oh let's have some"
The Awesomest Julie™ ~GFCH~ "Oh that is right, you won't be eating lunch because I am going to kill you now." says:
"let's do"
Kiss me, I have no night vision says: (18:24:35)
julie thats a fantastic story
The Awesomest Julie™ ~GFCH~ "Oh that is right, you won't be eating lunch because I am going to kill you now." says:
:'D
So yeah, watch this space, it might just do a trick.
The theme is beds and what happens in them.
I pitched this to Julie:
Kiss me, I have no night vision says:
it would be a series of stories about bed, like conversations with friends and lovers and sisters stuff like that
The Awesomest Julie™ ~GFCH~ "Oh that is right, you won't be eating lunch because I am going to kill you now." says:
ew
Kiss me, I have no night vision says:
i havent got a name for it yet, but i've got a lotta ideas
Kiss me, I have no night vision says:
sorry what?
Kiss me, I have no night vision says:
EW?
The Awesomest Julie™ ~GFCH~ "Oh that is right, you won't be eating lunch because I am going to kill you now." says:
"sex"
"oh let's have some"
The Awesomest Julie™ ~GFCH~ "Oh that is right, you won't be eating lunch because I am going to kill you now." says:
"let's do"
Kiss me, I have no night vision says: (18:24:35)
julie thats a fantastic story
The Awesomest Julie™ ~GFCH~ "Oh that is right, you won't be eating lunch because I am going to kill you now." says:
:'D
So yeah, watch this space, it might just do a trick.
Grand ol' team to play for
I was tired and my throat was still gunky. Classics had just been more information on Greeks and their little slave boys and rules on who was allowed to get aroused and who wasn't. My archaeology teacher had made the mistake of proposing a debate and putting me on defence of crazy theories. I don't think I've ever spoken so much in a tutorial before. I had a lift at the writer's group since they liked my story about blind lesbians but the long cold night ahead was daunting. Why did Uefa decide hey now everyone's used to football on wednesdays, a day that everybody is happy with, let's move it to tuesday when everyone has busy days? Grr.
After a few shots leading nowhere half-time was drawing near. Aiden McGeady, teeny little scottish guy who got bullied last season by a big fat ginger Irish player had a shot but I didn't stand up, I thought it had missed. It wasn't until the man next to me grabbed hold of my elbow and lifted me up that I saw the net swoosh and I realised we were winning. So thank you very much man next to me, next time could you not keep trying to hold my arm even when I pull away several times? Yeah? Good. Just glad it wasn't my dead arm, oh how I would have raged.
And so we won and actually have a chance again to progress further, which means more games and more mini-holidays :D
It was freezing though. I knew I should have worn a jumper but my classes are always far too warm. Total mistake, I was shivering for ages when I got home. This is how colds happen, Catherine, you should know this by now!
I was in fopp the other day where I parted with money for cds! Not done that in a while. I was browsing through the so-called 'alternative' section which is just rock music made in the last 2 decades really. I bought a Regina Spektor and a Modest Mouse album but this is how I made my choices:
Dum dee dum ooo stuff's a fiver. Fiver's cheap. I have a fiver! It's a sign! Holy crap she's hot:
Purchased.
I'll have a quick look round first, ooh they've got The Shins, aw too expensive, put it back. Ooh, The Decemberists oh no there's none here just the sign, grumble grumble. I own this cd! And this one! That one's crap, why do people like them? Aw well, I'll just go pay...ooo Modest Mouse and it's pretty and blue and a fiver too. Let's see what songs are on it: Jesus Christ was an only childThat's a great title!...Purchased.
I am a master of killing time. I'm a time assassin.
After a few shots leading nowhere half-time was drawing near. Aiden McGeady, teeny little scottish guy who got bullied last season by a big fat ginger Irish player had a shot but I didn't stand up, I thought it had missed. It wasn't until the man next to me grabbed hold of my elbow and lifted me up that I saw the net swoosh and I realised we were winning. So thank you very much man next to me, next time could you not keep trying to hold my arm even when I pull away several times? Yeah? Good. Just glad it wasn't my dead arm, oh how I would have raged.
And so we won and actually have a chance again to progress further, which means more games and more mini-holidays :D
It was freezing though. I knew I should have worn a jumper but my classes are always far too warm. Total mistake, I was shivering for ages when I got home. This is how colds happen, Catherine, you should know this by now!
I was in fopp the other day where I parted with money for cds! Not done that in a while. I was browsing through the so-called 'alternative' section which is just rock music made in the last 2 decades really. I bought a Regina Spektor and a Modest Mouse album but this is how I made my choices:
Dum dee dum ooo stuff's a fiver. Fiver's cheap. I have a fiver! It's a sign! Holy crap she's hot:
Purchased.
I'll have a quick look round first, ooh they've got The Shins, aw too expensive, put it back. Ooh, The Decemberists oh no there's none here just the sign, grumble grumble. I own this cd! And this one! That one's crap, why do people like them? Aw well, I'll just go pay...ooo Modest Mouse and it's pretty and blue and a fiver too. Let's see what songs are on it: Jesus Christ was an only childThat's a great title!...Purchased.
I am a master of killing time. I'm a time assassin.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Revolution's fine, but give me the high fives and the hugs and I'm happy
Today was a successful day. The train arrived in town on time, I didn't have to wait for my bus in or back home, I handed in my essay so I won't have to think about nuns and feminism for a few weeks at least, fopp had two cds I wanted for a fiver each and Indiana Jones was referenced again in my archaeology lecture. Good times, man, good times.
My eye is socially acceptable now. I can walk down the streets of this mean town and not be gawked at. Well, mostly. I never knew I made so many weird faces when I'm thinking. It's a problem. One I ain't solving so deal.
On friday archaeology was so dull we all just about cried. The one piece of information I remember was about how the Peruvians who lived in the first known city were permanently stoned on aphrodisiacs! Yay for Peru I guess. This week was much better. The actual subject matter was bleh, a lot of it is since we aren't digging until after Christmas, but every so often we got a little snippet of something better. For instance, did you know that Arthur Pendragon has been reborn and lives amongst us now awaiting his awakening as the King of England? It's true! Apparently he's laid claim to Stonehenge once he takes the throne. Good on you, you poor, pathetic madman!
We had quotes from Byron, Orwell and a very angry Aboriginal woman. Sometimes I miss my English Lit degree. Sure all the poems we studied were about sex or death or sex with dead people (yay for Browning) but it was cosy and familiar. I'm still getting used to a course like Archaeology which borders on science too often for my likes. Then we get lectures like today where it's all romantic poets and philosophical ideas. These I know. But I remember the girls in the English classes and bah! I'm better off even with Mouseface. Plus y'know there's the geek references to Indiana Jones and how he could have just flown over to England if he wanted the Ark of the Covenant so much.
When I came out of he class a certain little midgetgirl skipped out in front of me, itty bitty ass wiggling and stupid squeaky voice yammering on her phone. I'd forgotten she existed to tell you the truth. I haven't seen her since that first couple of weeks, I figured she'd stopped turning up to avoid me. She changed her subjects last year to avoid being in English with me. Apparently she blamed me for ruining her choices, like I'd deliberately picked it so she couldn't. I found this ridiculous but then I didn't know what she was doing behind my back so it did seem rather odd out of context. But there she was today. I was close enough to shove her down the stairs and claim it wasn't me and whereas a month ago I would have been close to murder now I felt nothing. She was just a nobody. A nobody who is less attractive than me even with the eye thing I've got going on. And that felt damn good.
I actually had some free time after all that. No essays due for a couple of weeks, no tutorial work either. I just have to rest up for my long(er) day tomorrow so I've been reading Joey Comeau and eating strawberries.
I leave you now with the world's best detective, mostly cause I found it in a folder I didn't know I had on my desktop.
My eye is socially acceptable now. I can walk down the streets of this mean town and not be gawked at. Well, mostly. I never knew I made so many weird faces when I'm thinking. It's a problem. One I ain't solving so deal.
On friday archaeology was so dull we all just about cried. The one piece of information I remember was about how the Peruvians who lived in the first known city were permanently stoned on aphrodisiacs! Yay for Peru I guess. This week was much better. The actual subject matter was bleh, a lot of it is since we aren't digging until after Christmas, but every so often we got a little snippet of something better. For instance, did you know that Arthur Pendragon has been reborn and lives amongst us now awaiting his awakening as the King of England? It's true! Apparently he's laid claim to Stonehenge once he takes the throne. Good on you, you poor, pathetic madman!
We had quotes from Byron, Orwell and a very angry Aboriginal woman. Sometimes I miss my English Lit degree. Sure all the poems we studied were about sex or death or sex with dead people (yay for Browning) but it was cosy and familiar. I'm still getting used to a course like Archaeology which borders on science too often for my likes. Then we get lectures like today where it's all romantic poets and philosophical ideas. These I know. But I remember the girls in the English classes and bah! I'm better off even with Mouseface. Plus y'know there's the geek references to Indiana Jones and how he could have just flown over to England if he wanted the Ark of the Covenant so much.
When I came out of he class a certain little midgetgirl skipped out in front of me, itty bitty ass wiggling and stupid squeaky voice yammering on her phone. I'd forgotten she existed to tell you the truth. I haven't seen her since that first couple of weeks, I figured she'd stopped turning up to avoid me. She changed her subjects last year to avoid being in English with me. Apparently she blamed me for ruining her choices, like I'd deliberately picked it so she couldn't. I found this ridiculous but then I didn't know what she was doing behind my back so it did seem rather odd out of context. But there she was today. I was close enough to shove her down the stairs and claim it wasn't me and whereas a month ago I would have been close to murder now I felt nothing. She was just a nobody. A nobody who is less attractive than me even with the eye thing I've got going on. And that felt damn good.
I actually had some free time after all that. No essays due for a couple of weeks, no tutorial work either. I just have to rest up for my long(er) day tomorrow so I've been reading Joey Comeau and eating strawberries.
I leave you now with the world's best detective, mostly cause I found it in a folder I didn't know I had on my desktop.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
When Lesbians Fall Down
There's a fancy underwear shop on the way to work. Every week they have a different shop front. A while back they tied all the manniquins together with ribbon in some sort of weird bondage thing. This week all the manniquins were all in elaborate lacy things and collapsed in to each other. Crazy lesbian orgy? Shocking shop front installation? Or a warning against wearing very high heels to bed. Unsteadyness is almost guaranteed.
After smacking my elbow off the bathroom sink my left arm is pretty dead. My cough is clearing though so I just look like a crazy person and sound pretty ok. Hurrah.
I had a mad dream last night. I was in a bar but I was trying to leave to catch a flight. I couldn't leave until I'd found my brother and said goodbye because I wasn't ever gonna see him again once I left. (I don't have a real brother by the way). So I searched every floor and everywhere I looked everybody who was there started staring at me or tried to keep me from going. The weirdest thing was how clear I could see everybody's face. None of them looked like anybody I actually know and I've never had such clear views of strangers in my dreams. Plus they were all male. Any girls who were there either disappeared completely when I looked at them or turned out to be drag queens who kept complaining how their tights were falling down. I finally made it to the very top of the building where my brother was playing pool. We talked for a while. I told him that I'd fainted and he laughed and called me melodramatic. He told me he was getting married and it was such a shame because if he wasn't he would be able to see me again. Then when I went to go he started dancing with me. He twirled me around, swung me down, leaned in and whispered "laame" in my ear.
Woke up hella confused and missing my fictional brother.
After smacking my elbow off the bathroom sink my left arm is pretty dead. My cough is clearing though so I just look like a crazy person and sound pretty ok. Hurrah.
I had a mad dream last night. I was in a bar but I was trying to leave to catch a flight. I couldn't leave until I'd found my brother and said goodbye because I wasn't ever gonna see him again once I left. (I don't have a real brother by the way). So I searched every floor and everywhere I looked everybody who was there started staring at me or tried to keep me from going. The weirdest thing was how clear I could see everybody's face. None of them looked like anybody I actually know and I've never had such clear views of strangers in my dreams. Plus they were all male. Any girls who were there either disappeared completely when I looked at them or turned out to be drag queens who kept complaining how their tights were falling down. I finally made it to the very top of the building where my brother was playing pool. We talked for a while. I told him that I'd fainted and he laughed and called me melodramatic. He told me he was getting married and it was such a shame because if he wasn't he would be able to see me again. Then when I went to go he started dancing with me. He twirled me around, swung me down, leaned in and whispered "laame" in my ear.
Woke up hella confused and missing my fictional brother.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
You are everything I cannot see
I woke up around four this morning. Something was wrong but it took me a little while to work out what. Then it was all so obvious. My right eye wasn't open. I'm going to take you back a few years. It was Christmas and I had the flu. Sometime just before my birthday, might even have been the day before, my cold was lessening but I woke up one morning and found I couldn't open my right eye. After two hours in an emergency room where nurses kept walking past to look at my fucked up face, I was sent to an eye doctor who tried to admit me until my mum got upset and told her it was my birthday soon. I was sent home with a big ol' bottle of antibiotics and a heavy dose of depression. Since then I've been terrified of losing my sight. Granted my actual eye was virtually unharmed but the world is a duller place when you can only see half of it. I had a fright two winters ago and spent all night watching Finding Nemo and trying not to panic only to wake up sometime later and be fine.
So this morning I wake up and my right eye won't open. Of course, being mostly asleep I rubbed it open without thinking and promptly freaked. I was staring at my eye in the mirror, trying to work out whether it was swollen or not when it suddenly seemed huge and red. That's when I blacked out and smacked just about all of my limbs off the sink. I staggered blindly to my parents' bedroom where I was met with confusion and annoyed grunts from the blob I assumed was my father. My mum tried to lead me back to bed but I kept babbling about how I wouldn't wake up. I started flailing in darkness and woke up again on the ground, numb with a rushing noise in my ears and my mum checking my pulse on my wrist. I remember hoping I wasn't gonna die or anything, not in my Mario tshirt of all things.
Anyway, I made it back to bed and I'm fine now. I've got eyedrops for my eye that's mildly bloodshot and a tad icky, and my skint knee is sore again since I gave it a good thwack both times I fell. Mostly my heads just messed up. Before I went to sleep last night I was doodling ideas down and what do I write? A story about a blind girl that's what.
Julie responded all this by calling me a wuss.
"You feel a wee bit ill and it's all oh no! *swoons*"
Gotta love her.
So this morning I wake up and my right eye won't open. Of course, being mostly asleep I rubbed it open without thinking and promptly freaked. I was staring at my eye in the mirror, trying to work out whether it was swollen or not when it suddenly seemed huge and red. That's when I blacked out and smacked just about all of my limbs off the sink. I staggered blindly to my parents' bedroom where I was met with confusion and annoyed grunts from the blob I assumed was my father. My mum tried to lead me back to bed but I kept babbling about how I wouldn't wake up. I started flailing in darkness and woke up again on the ground, numb with a rushing noise in my ears and my mum checking my pulse on my wrist. I remember hoping I wasn't gonna die or anything, not in my Mario tshirt of all things.
Anyway, I made it back to bed and I'm fine now. I've got eyedrops for my eye that's mildly bloodshot and a tad icky, and my skint knee is sore again since I gave it a good thwack both times I fell. Mostly my heads just messed up. Before I went to sleep last night I was doodling ideas down and what do I write? A story about a blind girl that's what.
Julie responded all this by calling me a wuss.
"You feel a wee bit ill and it's all oh no! *swoons*"
Gotta love her.
Friday, November 2, 2007
I skipped Classics today
But it's okay. I actually found the shortened version of what I missed online.
Here
It's too fucking true! Greek men lounging drinking wine and having orgies is what I woulda been learning about today. They just tarted it up by calling it a symposium lecture. Phah!
Sometimes I think I should have just picked philosophy and sat stroking my chin and saying hmmm. Much less erections on pots.
Here
It's too fucking true! Greek men lounging drinking wine and having orgies is what I woulda been learning about today. They just tarted it up by calling it a symposium lecture. Phah!
Sometimes I think I should have just picked philosophy and sat stroking my chin and saying hmmm. Much less erections on pots.
Party Hats and Cake for all!
My essay is done!
No more feminist ranting for me this year, no siree bob!
Woo!
No more feminist ranting for me this year, no siree bob!
Woo!
Thursday, November 1, 2007
And the anchorperson on TV goes blah dee blah dee blah
I'm in the writing swing. I cannot stop writing and it's mostly crap but ideas are jumping off my fingers and getting washed up in the middle of my actual work. I wrote a short story in amongst my notes on the rise of Anti-semitism in the Middle Ages, three pages into my History essay I have two attempts to write a piece I've wanted to write for months but I still can't get it out without sounding either like a disgruntled emo or hopelessly depressing and then I wrote two more pieces in my head on the bus this morning and promptly forgot the majority of them because I can't write on the bus without feeling weird. I forgot how much I enjoy it.
I used to keep a diary. I wrote absolutely everything in there, things I've never told anyone even when I've wanted to. Re-reading them was a comfort, didn't matter what it was I'd scrawled on the page, because it was me there in smudgy black. I had to give it up when a certain sister read it and landed me in a heap of trouble with the parents. I'll simply say my dad did not talk to me for a year because of it. So no more diary, no more venting of all the things that go on in this topsy-turvy brain of mine and I went a little mad. I couldn't write anything other than childish drivel, I was too scared of trying anything new.
Writing again means I've regained the last part of me after I fell apart almost two years ago. I've wanted to be a writer ever since I was old enough to read but I don't know if I could ever be happy enough with something I'd written to publish it. More than that I don't think I've experienced enough to write anything substantial. All I know are missed chances and why you should never date guys with the same name in a short space of time. It just ain't right.
I've got a craving for peanut butter. I wanna watch Firefly all night with someone who loves me and a big ol' pile of toast spread thick with peanut butter. Closest I've got is Firefly with a big cushion and maybe a lollipop if my stash hasn't gone gooey. Might just do that soon, haven't seen Captain Tightpants in a long while.
Craps, I've got uni early tomorrow. Bedtime!
Oh I'll end with a conversation I overhead in classics today:
Guy who kicked me all lecture: "I watched the Celtic v Hearts game last night. There's two teams I couldn't care less about."
Guy who kept tapping his pen: "So why'd you watch?"
Kicking Guy: "I hate Hearts. I hate them so much that if they were playing Saddam Hussein I'd want him to win."
That's real loathing there folks.
I used to keep a diary. I wrote absolutely everything in there, things I've never told anyone even when I've wanted to. Re-reading them was a comfort, didn't matter what it was I'd scrawled on the page, because it was me there in smudgy black. I had to give it up when a certain sister read it and landed me in a heap of trouble with the parents. I'll simply say my dad did not talk to me for a year because of it. So no more diary, no more venting of all the things that go on in this topsy-turvy brain of mine and I went a little mad. I couldn't write anything other than childish drivel, I was too scared of trying anything new.
Writing again means I've regained the last part of me after I fell apart almost two years ago. I've wanted to be a writer ever since I was old enough to read but I don't know if I could ever be happy enough with something I'd written to publish it. More than that I don't think I've experienced enough to write anything substantial. All I know are missed chances and why you should never date guys with the same name in a short space of time. It just ain't right.
I've got a craving for peanut butter. I wanna watch Firefly all night with someone who loves me and a big ol' pile of toast spread thick with peanut butter. Closest I've got is Firefly with a big cushion and maybe a lollipop if my stash hasn't gone gooey. Might just do that soon, haven't seen Captain Tightpants in a long while.
Craps, I've got uni early tomorrow. Bedtime!
Oh I'll end with a conversation I overhead in classics today:
Guy who kicked me all lecture: "I watched the Celtic v Hearts game last night. There's two teams I couldn't care less about."
Guy who kept tapping his pen: "So why'd you watch?"
Kicking Guy: "I hate Hearts. I hate them so much that if they were playing Saddam Hussein I'd want him to win."
That's real loathing there folks.
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