I've got black coffee, an orange and a little hedgehog pill and this is called how I'm going to make it through the day. I can't read which rules out every one of the books cluttering up my couch and I left Kerouac feeling awkward next to a prostitute because I could no longer understand him. The majority of my films cannot be watched because the remaining ones are subtitled or monotone and I can't concentrate. I set myself a task this week, well two tasks actually. Task number one was scavenge around town for cheap dvds and maybe a pair of tights and not come home until I was exhausted and I had walked far enough to see something new. It's the task I usually set myself when I go to uni only with more turning up to lectures maybe. Task number two is chapter three. I printed it out, I pulled out the appropriate notebook and I scoured my floor for a decent pen. But can't read, can't write so I just type nonsense to assure myself I can still communicate. I'm spending most of my day hiding from my phone. In my dreams all it does it ring. In reality it beeps with another distant meaningless hey from someone more bored than I. I'm not sure what I'm waiting for to be honest but I appear to be doing so.
My new passport arrived. I am officially allowed to run away now. It's my insta-cheer up these days, calculating flight costs. I was slightly amused by the fact that if you fly to Paris on the 12th of February you could pay £130 and coming back on the 16th will cost you £180 with everything inbetween getting staggeringly high. But take a trip a week before and you'd pay £60 each way and gain more points by being unexpected and breaking expectations! I didn't even ask to see flights in Feb but there you go, it decided I should. I also laughed as I looked up football dates so I won't be surprised later and there's a game on Valentine's day. Parkhead holds some 60,000 odd (mostly) men. That's a lot of annoyed wives.
Oh bleh I need to hurry up and feel better, I made a goddamn list of things to do this week! I actually wrote it down, neat and concise and organised and bam I got the sniffles and my mum gets flu so I'm left making sure the house doesn't fall down. I hope I never have kids, let me tell you that now. I had the strangest dream last night that I can't even begin to describe. I swear it felt real. I was sat in my old sitting room, squeezed in with a bunch of other people I didn't know and we'd just been to a girl's funeral. I had a bunch of diaries in my hand that had been hers I think and her boyfriend was going to write a book but they kept slipping down the back of the sofa into a shelf of cobwebs and then I had an argument about Catholics, someone insisted I had to go down to buy milk and all I remember is the guy had purple in his hair and facial hair that shifted if you looked at him for too long at a time. Do you ever get that feeling when you've been looking at someone for too long and their face shifts into someone else? Like it's as if you've never really looked at them before because you know them too well and then you suddenly see what they look like and it's completely different from the way you know them? I kept getting that when I talked to him and I woke up annoyed but without a headache so that's something.
Showing posts with label cold. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cold. Show all posts
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Alas, I am a big gay
"Little red riding cat," My mum smiles at my blanket clad form as she prods at the cheese stuck to the toastie machine. My sandwich had exploded but she wasn't making me clean it since I looked so pathetic. I'm speaking too fast, too much like when I'm drunk or I'm going to cry. I lost track of my point a while back but I keep going and she gives me a look. Then I fell into the chair and pointed at some vague spot before me. "Blurry. Ow." Fuzzy squares encroach on my sight like a TV slowly losing reception. Sorry for the interruption but programming is finishing early tonight due to technical difficulties. Pain settles above my left eye and before I crash I wave a piece of paper in front of my mother.
"I wrote a poem."
It was partly to blame for the brain melting agony that shifted and swung violently with every step. But I made it to bed safe and sound. No, not safe. I writhe and curl up into a ball. I hate these. Most any pain I can handle if I try but headaches break me. I shut my eyes, try not to move and hope that when Julie goes to bed, she does so silently. No light, no noise, no movement. Don't even think too much. Don't shake the beast. My nose itches but the hand that moves to scratch it is gone. Lost all feeling. I panic. Panic moves the pain, I bit my lip to keep from crying out and I realise I can't feel it either. Slowly and yet suddenly the buzzy fuzzy awful spreads to half my face and I'm erased. I throw my head back and the pain is electric; she lives!
This is why I'm not the biggest fan of verse.
Now here's some reasons why I am dreadfully poor:
I bought art! From Perfect Stars if you are wondering, there's a link in my link list I'm sure. Not great pics but I was excited and sleepy and my proper camera broke a while back.
"I wrote a poem."
It was partly to blame for the brain melting agony that shifted and swung violently with every step. But I made it to bed safe and sound. No, not safe. I writhe and curl up into a ball. I hate these. Most any pain I can handle if I try but headaches break me. I shut my eyes, try not to move and hope that when Julie goes to bed, she does so silently. No light, no noise, no movement. Don't even think too much. Don't shake the beast. My nose itches but the hand that moves to scratch it is gone. Lost all feeling. I panic. Panic moves the pain, I bit my lip to keep from crying out and I realise I can't feel it either. Slowly and yet suddenly the buzzy fuzzy awful spreads to half my face and I'm erased. I throw my head back and the pain is electric; she lives!
This is why I'm not the biggest fan of verse.
Now here's some reasons why I am dreadfully poor:
I bought art! From Perfect Stars if you are wondering, there's a link in my link list I'm sure. Not great pics but I was excited and sleepy and my proper camera broke a while back.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
All your lives unled, reading in bed
There's a cold on the horizon. I'm hoping with enough willpower I can stave it off like last time. Let's all hope so since next week begins the oh crap get essay done time.
You know that restless way when you can't do anything else until you get something down on paper. It's a nightmare, one that wakes me up and consumes my thoughts and the worst part of it is that I am simply not good enough yet to realise all that I can imagine. I'm vain. Incredibly so, although I try not to show it and when I do I use sarcasm to protect myself from contradictions. Because, like all vain people, I'm a mass of insecurities. I wrote my first novel when I was fourteen, although it was not my first attempt. There was that one I started when I was nine about orphaned twins, very melodramatic and ridiculous. But this was my first completed novel. I typed it all up in chapters and let anybody who asked read it. That was the great thing about our high school, few people read let alone wrote their own stories so I was smothered in praise. Of course it was absolute rubbish. Then came the Elfwood period. Considering how picky I am when it comes to clichés my little page on that site is a veritable mess of overused plot holes. Again, it was the perfect place for quick and easy praise. It's why I've never bothered posting anywhere else, except for blogs of course but that's a different matter.
Nobody has ever told me I could write. Nobody ever really encouraged me to write either. I never entered competitions and so I never won anything. I just remember being in the front seat of my dad's car, driving to the BBC building and passing the university. He pointed the imposing building out to me and said that's where I might be when I grew up. I told him it would be pointless because I was going to be a writer.
I didn't quite imagine I'd be stuffy nosed and thumbing through my worn French dictionary to find out how to spell the sentences that play out in my head. I handed the first page to my mother who merely told me that clack would be a better onomatopoeia than tack for a typewriter and ignored all french like phrases. I fear it's become one of those pieces that nobody else will want to read. But one must persevere, if only because I'd fidget myself to a broken finger otherwise.
Julie provided a brief summary of what I've written so far and if it became a published work I'd love it to be the blurb:
I AM WALKING DOWN THE STREET
THERE A STRANGE MAN I DO MEET
I TOUCH HIM INAPPROPRIATELY
AND THEN I PRANCE AWAY WITH GLEE
Now have a picture of the best part of La Dolce Vita. Because it makes me happy.
You know that restless way when you can't do anything else until you get something down on paper. It's a nightmare, one that wakes me up and consumes my thoughts and the worst part of it is that I am simply not good enough yet to realise all that I can imagine. I'm vain. Incredibly so, although I try not to show it and when I do I use sarcasm to protect myself from contradictions. Because, like all vain people, I'm a mass of insecurities. I wrote my first novel when I was fourteen, although it was not my first attempt. There was that one I started when I was nine about orphaned twins, very melodramatic and ridiculous. But this was my first completed novel. I typed it all up in chapters and let anybody who asked read it. That was the great thing about our high school, few people read let alone wrote their own stories so I was smothered in praise. Of course it was absolute rubbish. Then came the Elfwood period. Considering how picky I am when it comes to clichés my little page on that site is a veritable mess of overused plot holes. Again, it was the perfect place for quick and easy praise. It's why I've never bothered posting anywhere else, except for blogs of course but that's a different matter.
Nobody has ever told me I could write. Nobody ever really encouraged me to write either. I never entered competitions and so I never won anything. I just remember being in the front seat of my dad's car, driving to the BBC building and passing the university. He pointed the imposing building out to me and said that's where I might be when I grew up. I told him it would be pointless because I was going to be a writer.
I didn't quite imagine I'd be stuffy nosed and thumbing through my worn French dictionary to find out how to spell the sentences that play out in my head. I handed the first page to my mother who merely told me that clack would be a better onomatopoeia than tack for a typewriter and ignored all french like phrases. I fear it's become one of those pieces that nobody else will want to read. But one must persevere, if only because I'd fidget myself to a broken finger otherwise.
Julie provided a brief summary of what I've written so far and if it became a published work I'd love it to be the blurb:
I AM WALKING DOWN THE STREET
THERE A STRANGE MAN I DO MEET
I TOUCH HIM INAPPROPRIATELY
AND THEN I PRANCE AWAY WITH GLEE
Now have a picture of the best part of La Dolce Vita. Because it makes me happy.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Written in Dejection, near Naples
The two Beechams have just kicked it and I have a rare burst of energy! I am awake, to the extent that the blurriness is gone and I don't fall when I stand anymore. I have managed to colour in my nail. I don't know how. And now that I've looked I see I've written 3 pages of a story subconsciously, unconsciously? I guess that will be fun to read. Where did all the time go? It was ten o'clock just a minute ago. Oh, yes I went to the bakery and bought a doughnut. I don't care about the size of my ass, I only lose weight when I'm not paying attention anyway. My mum popped in to tell me I looked awful before leaving again.
God, I do look awful. Like some sort of zombie. Rwarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
There's orange juice in the freezer. Orange juice is good for colds. But I don't want a carton lolly. All I can think about is Dylan Moran and his red wine lolly. God, I love him. I want a scruffy Irish man. But I dunno if I can afford the year out to Ireland. Gallway is hella pretty though, it could be worth the debt. Love: potentially worth bankruptcy.
My hair is a bird's nest of disaster. Maybe I should just grow it. Be a girl. Smile demurely and act modestly. Or get it cut and stick a hat on?
Holy crap my right hand is inktastic. This is new ink too because I totally washed this morning. Stupid pen. Why can't you be more like that pen I got in Rome. Best fucking pen. And I wasted it on Bismarck. Nobody cares about Bismarck. Man I miss that class. I never got to pull Agnew up for making up a pirate just to win the argument. Nobody tells me I must have gotten my facts from Johnny Depp and dismisses me like some lovesick little girl.
I was reading Shelley. Well, more like browsing Shelley, too tired for actual reading. Then I came across the heading Stanzas written in dejection, near Naples and spent ages thinking dejection doesn't sound very Italian. You'd think I would have cottoned on when just a few poems before there was "Invocation to Misery". Miserable lot these poets were. Oh, how I love them. Except Wordsworth. Later for him. Full of lies. All these lines composed at such and such a place at such and such a time, only he got them wrong. And I wandered lonely as a cloud? With your sister who was also there.
Man, how good is it to be able to breathe? I had the worst sleep ever. Did I already say that? I forget what I've blogged already and what I just thought about. That's the problem I have with internet journals. Too much like talking to myself and I do that far, far too much already.
Oh, ok, the buzz from my pills is fading into a soft woomph now. Either that or I'm just way too tired. But! with any luck I'll be fine by tomorrow morning. I've psyched myself up for seeing people and I'll be damned if I have to postpone it. Girls are so much work to be around. They turn on you like that. I figure I'll take my rum, trundle up the road and if I lack the energy even fuelled by alcohol then I'll just go to sleep. She has like the most comfy bed ever. Or close to the most comfy bed, because it's a bit on the small side.
I think I might watch The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi again on youtube. It's like the most ridiculous anime I've ever seen and I've seen Tokyo Mew Mew or Mew Mew Power or whatever the hell it is. Creepy, that's what it is. Anyway Haruhi. It makes no sense and it takes the piss out of so many other shows and they dress up as bunny girls for no reason. Look at her judge you. Juuuuuuuudge.
God, I do look awful. Like some sort of zombie. Rwarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
There's orange juice in the freezer. Orange juice is good for colds. But I don't want a carton lolly. All I can think about is Dylan Moran and his red wine lolly. God, I love him. I want a scruffy Irish man. But I dunno if I can afford the year out to Ireland. Gallway is hella pretty though, it could be worth the debt. Love: potentially worth bankruptcy.
My hair is a bird's nest of disaster. Maybe I should just grow it. Be a girl. Smile demurely and act modestly. Or get it cut and stick a hat on?
Holy crap my right hand is inktastic. This is new ink too because I totally washed this morning. Stupid pen. Why can't you be more like that pen I got in Rome. Best fucking pen. And I wasted it on Bismarck. Nobody cares about Bismarck. Man I miss that class. I never got to pull Agnew up for making up a pirate just to win the argument. Nobody tells me I must have gotten my facts from Johnny Depp and dismisses me like some lovesick little girl.
I was reading Shelley. Well, more like browsing Shelley, too tired for actual reading. Then I came across the heading Stanzas written in dejection, near Naples and spent ages thinking dejection doesn't sound very Italian. You'd think I would have cottoned on when just a few poems before there was "Invocation to Misery". Miserable lot these poets were. Oh, how I love them. Except Wordsworth. Later for him. Full of lies. All these lines composed at such and such a place at such and such a time, only he got them wrong. And I wandered lonely as a cloud? With your sister who was also there.
Man, how good is it to be able to breathe? I had the worst sleep ever. Did I already say that? I forget what I've blogged already and what I just thought about. That's the problem I have with internet journals. Too much like talking to myself and I do that far, far too much already.
Oh, ok, the buzz from my pills is fading into a soft woomph now. Either that or I'm just way too tired. But! with any luck I'll be fine by tomorrow morning. I've psyched myself up for seeing people and I'll be damned if I have to postpone it. Girls are so much work to be around. They turn on you like that. I figure I'll take my rum, trundle up the road and if I lack the energy even fuelled by alcohol then I'll just go to sleep. She has like the most comfy bed ever. Or close to the most comfy bed, because it's a bit on the small side.
I think I might watch The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi again on youtube. It's like the most ridiculous anime I've ever seen and I've seen Tokyo Mew Mew or Mew Mew Power or whatever the hell it is. Creepy, that's what it is. Anyway Haruhi. It makes no sense and it takes the piss out of so many other shows and they dress up as bunny girls for no reason. Look at her judge you. Juuuuuuuudge.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Here's looking at you, kid
Boxing Day. That sort of listless hangover from the excitement of Christmas. Mealtimes mean leftovers and there's little incentive to drag myself into town and face the madness of the first day of sales. I thought about seeing the Golden Compass but I haven't the energy and I doubt anybody would want to sit next to me sneezing over Daniel Craig for 2 hours. That's right, I got the cold for Christmas. blergh.
It was a good day though. I ate too much food and watched Casablanca with Julie curled up uncomfortably in my side. She spent the first half hour repeating "Frankly my dear, I love you lets remarry" before she crashed only to wake up at the credits and huff that I didn't wake her to hear the line. The fact that she was quoting a parody of Clark Gable and not Humphrey Bogart escaped her. Shortly before she did sleep our street exploded in a barrage of flashing orange and gunshot bangs. It wouldn't be a holiday period without somebody setting the park on fire.
Despite some worries that nothing we ordered has arrived from America I received a fair stack of books I will try and read before next year and the shiny new Bladerunner dvd which came with an awesome holographic thing with Deckard pointing his gun and looking worried like only Harrison Ford can. My mum gave me a bottle of Coco Chanel since she knows I love it and she even hid it under a bowler hat which has since remained firmly on my head. It's gorgeous, smelling like my childhood and reminding me of too many things to try and list but damn if I don't have to put it on in the most awkward way possible to avoid my face. Nobody's gonna care what I smell like if I look like some sort of Pikachu girl. Not attractive.
So, it's over and for a week at least all I have to do is lie around in my pjs, socks and hat, read novels by Russian romantics and maybe get some writing done. Ah, the simple joys of the unemployed.
It was a good day though. I ate too much food and watched Casablanca with Julie curled up uncomfortably in my side. She spent the first half hour repeating "Frankly my dear, I love you lets remarry" before she crashed only to wake up at the credits and huff that I didn't wake her to hear the line. The fact that she was quoting a parody of Clark Gable and not Humphrey Bogart escaped her. Shortly before she did sleep our street exploded in a barrage of flashing orange and gunshot bangs. It wouldn't be a holiday period without somebody setting the park on fire.
Despite some worries that nothing we ordered has arrived from America I received a fair stack of books I will try and read before next year and the shiny new Bladerunner dvd which came with an awesome holographic thing with Deckard pointing his gun and looking worried like only Harrison Ford can. My mum gave me a bottle of Coco Chanel since she knows I love it and she even hid it under a bowler hat which has since remained firmly on my head. It's gorgeous, smelling like my childhood and reminding me of too many things to try and list but damn if I don't have to put it on in the most awkward way possible to avoid my face. Nobody's gonna care what I smell like if I look like some sort of Pikachu girl. Not attractive.
So, it's over and for a week at least all I have to do is lie around in my pjs, socks and hat, read novels by Russian romantics and maybe get some writing done. Ah, the simple joys of the unemployed.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
The dashboard melted but we still have the radio
I'm dying. I've not gone two minutes without coughing for three hours now. Instead of my planned Halloween evening which went along the lines of curl up in blanket, experiment with eye liner and draw things on my face, drink hot chocolate and watch Death Note (which means I'm totally in there for a wii. SmokeyJoe I owe you some sort of beverage), I went to the football. We not only lost ridiculously but my ass has frozen off and now sitting down is difficult. I'm coughing like some sort of yappy dog. Mmmhmm attractive.
Some musings before I leave for my early grave.
There's a guy who's in all of my classes and I'm not sure if I mentioned him here before, let's call him Mouseface. Mouseface is tall, lanky with brown hair wears glasses, those clear braces and I keep forgetting what his name is but I do know it. He has spoken maybe a dozen words to me, all at the one time and never acknowledged me since. He's a first year and may be the same guy I saw at the induction thing who I saw was born in 1990 which freaked me out. Granted I only lived in the eighties for a year and a day but it's like having my lil sis at uni purely because she was born in the early nineties. Anyway, my point is he's in all of my classes and everytime we've had archaeology bar the couple of times I've been late in, he's sat next to me. Not right next to me like I'd sit next to someone I liked so as to have a little accidental brushing of legs during lectures, but a seat along from me. I didn't think anything about it until I noticed he was doing it every single time. He sat next to me properly for the first time today in my history class, but ignored me and talked to his mate the whole time. I see him everywhere and I can't be bothered with him. He's a cardboard cut-out of so many guys I've had to drive away because they've bored me to tears. I'm too lazy to do that again. I attract a strange mix of guys, sadly none of them are ever normal or available.
So Mouseface. He's in my classics class too, but I've managed to avoid him for the most part, mostly because I've been trying to get a chance to speak to the Classics guy. I had a perfect opportunity the other day but then I remembered I had a tutorial on the other side of the campus. Although now I know he smokes it's iffy. I have an unhealthy fascination with smoking, not as unhealthy as actually being a smoker but I imagine it's heading that way. The smell of cigarettes is just so comforting and for a couple of years every single dream I have involves me smoking. My dad got annoyed at me for freakin dream smoking, God knows what he'd do if I started for real. Fact is, with some people it's just outright sexy and I love the whole talking with a cigarette in your mouth that Dylan Moran does brilliantly. Although, I might just be thinking of him because he is brilliant in general and I haven't watched Black Books in a while. So yeah, iffy. If I went out with a smoker I'd end up either smoking myself or doing the proper girlfriend doesn't want you to die rigmarole which I hate. It's like mothering. I mothered my last boyfriend until I was sick of myself simply because he was so fucking lazy, it pissed me off.
I fell up the stairs on the bus today. Don't know how I managed it but I've skint my knee. Now it hurts to wear jeans (which is kinda sucky seeing as I only have jeans or a skirt and I don't want more colds) and to kneel, walking at any pace other than slow stings as well. It's annoying but then I think back when I skint my knee everyday practically as a kid. I was very clumsy, still am apparently what with not being able to climb stairs. But it was like a big deal, major pain. Little did I know how sore a broken heart would be. Angst angst wah wah. I worked out why I've been so crazy with my rawr hate men no wait mewants many. This week is the anniversary of the shortest time I've ever been single. How ever long ago it is now I manged to move from one realtionship to another within a couple of days. I came the closest I've ever been to cheating, but then I'm more of the idea that if you're with someone and you're attracted to someone else it's either a crush you don't act upon or it's time to move on to the next one. It's not that hard people and I betcha life would go more simple that way. But our TVs would have no Jeremy Kyle. That show's so hilariously judgemental.
My last musing is a memory that hit me the other day when I bumped into a girl I used to know. I used to be friends with this girl and she was a year older than me, always liked to remind me of that. Anyway she was smugly telling me that she'd kissed a boy in the cinema. I was disgusted, I was 10 at the time and boys were icky, and she just snorted at me:
"Cat, if you're so grossed out by the thought of a boy sticking his tongue in your mouth what will you do when he sticks his penis in you?"
Bear in mind reader that I did not know that this was how sex happened. I was bitterly upset. I didn't want anything stuck anywhere, thank you very much and decided she had got it all wrong.
I tell a lie this is my last musing. I just watched the Planet Terror trailer. It looks terrible. But in a good way. Gun leg! Zombies! Bruce Willis turning into some sort of weird ugly thing for some reason! I have to see this film. Sadly my usual film seeing people don't want to see it for various reasons (thinking it's crap, zombies apparently being scary). But I will see this film, even if it means going myself. Or better yet bribing others to come with with promises of free drink!
PS Julie is great. Catherine's day was not that interesting but mine was. Do not read this post.
Some musings before I leave for my early grave.
There's a guy who's in all of my classes and I'm not sure if I mentioned him here before, let's call him Mouseface. Mouseface is tall, lanky with brown hair wears glasses, those clear braces and I keep forgetting what his name is but I do know it. He has spoken maybe a dozen words to me, all at the one time and never acknowledged me since. He's a first year and may be the same guy I saw at the induction thing who I saw was born in 1990 which freaked me out. Granted I only lived in the eighties for a year and a day but it's like having my lil sis at uni purely because she was born in the early nineties. Anyway, my point is he's in all of my classes and everytime we've had archaeology bar the couple of times I've been late in, he's sat next to me. Not right next to me like I'd sit next to someone I liked so as to have a little accidental brushing of legs during lectures, but a seat along from me. I didn't think anything about it until I noticed he was doing it every single time. He sat next to me properly for the first time today in my history class, but ignored me and talked to his mate the whole time. I see him everywhere and I can't be bothered with him. He's a cardboard cut-out of so many guys I've had to drive away because they've bored me to tears. I'm too lazy to do that again. I attract a strange mix of guys, sadly none of them are ever normal or available.
So Mouseface. He's in my classics class too, but I've managed to avoid him for the most part, mostly because I've been trying to get a chance to speak to the Classics guy. I had a perfect opportunity the other day but then I remembered I had a tutorial on the other side of the campus. Although now I know he smokes it's iffy. I have an unhealthy fascination with smoking, not as unhealthy as actually being a smoker but I imagine it's heading that way. The smell of cigarettes is just so comforting and for a couple of years every single dream I have involves me smoking. My dad got annoyed at me for freakin dream smoking, God knows what he'd do if I started for real. Fact is, with some people it's just outright sexy and I love the whole talking with a cigarette in your mouth that Dylan Moran does brilliantly. Although, I might just be thinking of him because he is brilliant in general and I haven't watched Black Books in a while. So yeah, iffy. If I went out with a smoker I'd end up either smoking myself or doing the proper girlfriend doesn't want you to die rigmarole which I hate. It's like mothering. I mothered my last boyfriend until I was sick of myself simply because he was so fucking lazy, it pissed me off.
I fell up the stairs on the bus today. Don't know how I managed it but I've skint my knee. Now it hurts to wear jeans (which is kinda sucky seeing as I only have jeans or a skirt and I don't want more colds) and to kneel, walking at any pace other than slow stings as well. It's annoying but then I think back when I skint my knee everyday practically as a kid. I was very clumsy, still am apparently what with not being able to climb stairs. But it was like a big deal, major pain. Little did I know how sore a broken heart would be. Angst angst wah wah. I worked out why I've been so crazy with my rawr hate men no wait mewants many. This week is the anniversary of the shortest time I've ever been single. How ever long ago it is now I manged to move from one realtionship to another within a couple of days. I came the closest I've ever been to cheating, but then I'm more of the idea that if you're with someone and you're attracted to someone else it's either a crush you don't act upon or it's time to move on to the next one. It's not that hard people and I betcha life would go more simple that way. But our TVs would have no Jeremy Kyle. That show's so hilariously judgemental.
My last musing is a memory that hit me the other day when I bumped into a girl I used to know. I used to be friends with this girl and she was a year older than me, always liked to remind me of that. Anyway she was smugly telling me that she'd kissed a boy in the cinema. I was disgusted, I was 10 at the time and boys were icky, and she just snorted at me:
"Cat, if you're so grossed out by the thought of a boy sticking his tongue in your mouth what will you do when he sticks his penis in you?"
Bear in mind reader that I did not know that this was how sex happened. I was bitterly upset. I didn't want anything stuck anywhere, thank you very much and decided she had got it all wrong.
I tell a lie this is my last musing. I just watched the Planet Terror trailer. It looks terrible. But in a good way. Gun leg! Zombies! Bruce Willis turning into some sort of weird ugly thing for some reason! I have to see this film. Sadly my usual film seeing people don't want to see it for various reasons (thinking it's crap, zombies apparently being scary). But I will see this film, even if it means going myself. Or better yet bribing others to come with with promises of free drink!
PS Julie is great. Catherine's day was not that interesting but mine was. Do not read this post.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
How I learnt not to set my dick on fire. An essay by Miss Kitty.
I do love Autumn. As I trudged home, sick as a very sick dog having managed to locate the book I needed from the library (who puts a history book in the theology section just cause it's about nuns? HISTORIC NUNS!) and not slept through classics (no sign of hotman, good thing too considering the icky cold), my heart lifted a little as I crunched through the leaves. And maybe kicked them up a little just for fun. And maybe by little I mean quite a lot.
A squirrel decided to try to paw its way into our sitting room not once but twice and just casually walked off when I approached the window all 'what the hell ya doing? crazy rodent thing' waving my hands about. It was mad. He's not been back but I suspect he's off to find a rock or something to steal my TV when I'm not looking.
I'm pretty much over the cold now *touch wood* I defeated it with positive thinking and drugs! Just dying of exhaustion now, so many things I had to clean today, some of them more than once thank you very much faulty bin bag. So now I anticipate good things. Like essay writing and a 9am start on Friday...it's a big week for me this one. A big, sucky one full of Things To Do.
On the good side I'm writing again. I spent the last three hours or so writing a short story. It had swords and hints of Greek mythology. Very happy I did something with ease. I've been in a funk for too long. Might post it if anyone's interested/I can be bothered.
On the Greek mythology thing for Classics I had to read Hesiod's Works and Days or as Julie decided to rename it "How I learned not to set my dick on fire". No joke. Halfway through this short poem thing about when to do your harvest and what way to drink your wine Hesiod starts giving instructions on how to pee. Guys just to inform you, you can't pee standing towards the sun, and at night don't pee on the road or uncovered. The best advice ever comes swiftly after with the classic (and I stress I have not changed a single thing here) "And when your private parts are stained with semen indoors, do not let them be seen as you go near the hearth-fire, but avoid it." Don't let your lady-friend see you set your spunk on fire? Don't go near fire in case you burn your penis cause that would be sore? Semen is highly flammable? I'm not sure quite what he is telling us here. But whatever it is, take heed men.
A squirrel decided to try to paw its way into our sitting room not once but twice and just casually walked off when I approached the window all 'what the hell ya doing? crazy rodent thing' waving my hands about. It was mad. He's not been back but I suspect he's off to find a rock or something to steal my TV when I'm not looking.
I'm pretty much over the cold now *touch wood* I defeated it with positive thinking and drugs! Just dying of exhaustion now, so many things I had to clean today, some of them more than once thank you very much faulty bin bag. So now I anticipate good things. Like essay writing and a 9am start on Friday...it's a big week for me this one. A big, sucky one full of Things To Do.
On the good side I'm writing again. I spent the last three hours or so writing a short story. It had swords and hints of Greek mythology. Very happy I did something with ease. I've been in a funk for too long. Might post it if anyone's interested/I can be bothered.
On the Greek mythology thing for Classics I had to read Hesiod's Works and Days or as Julie decided to rename it "How I learned not to set my dick on fire". No joke. Halfway through this short poem thing about when to do your harvest and what way to drink your wine Hesiod starts giving instructions on how to pee. Guys just to inform you, you can't pee standing towards the sun, and at night don't pee on the road or uncovered. The best advice ever comes swiftly after with the classic (and I stress I have not changed a single thing here) "And when your private parts are stained with semen indoors, do not let them be seen as you go near the hearth-fire, but avoid it." Don't let your lady-friend see you set your spunk on fire? Don't go near fire in case you burn your penis cause that would be sore? Semen is highly flammable? I'm not sure quite what he is telling us here. But whatever it is, take heed men.
Friday, October 12, 2007
I have discovered the secret to Final Fantasy hair.
Dream about having to research ridiculous things for History.
I woke up this morning angry. Angry at having to look at a book for ages and wondering why I couldn't find out whether Bismarck liked pancakes despite the title being "German rulers and their pastry preferences' and then having an argument about what a proper pancake was with some girl who appeared in a caravan and was somehow my girlfriend only I wanted to leave her because she kept asking me stupid questions about Bismarck which I then had to go look up and couldn't find.
When I walked past the mirror I checked to see nothing was wrong. Face seemed fine, nothing new. Tshirt on the right way, good, good. Pause for yawn. Then a cough. Still got the cold I see. Darn. Eyes slowly roll their way upwards and...wow.
I had Cloud hair.
Actual proper, big spike sticking straight up and defying reason, Cloud hair.
I wish I could have taken a picture but then everyone would have to see my morning face.
I'm debating whether I have the energy for lectures. I wouldn't mind if the lecture theatres were at least a little comfy but I can barely keep myself upright, let alone balance myself on a pew and write on a teeny piece of table. Worst part of it is I have to go to the library at least sometime before Monday at 11am. Man can I not be bothered with that.
Whoever gave me this cold, I dun like you.
I woke up this morning angry. Angry at having to look at a book for ages and wondering why I couldn't find out whether Bismarck liked pancakes despite the title being "German rulers and their pastry preferences' and then having an argument about what a proper pancake was with some girl who appeared in a caravan and was somehow my girlfriend only I wanted to leave her because she kept asking me stupid questions about Bismarck which I then had to go look up and couldn't find.
When I walked past the mirror I checked to see nothing was wrong. Face seemed fine, nothing new. Tshirt on the right way, good, good. Pause for yawn. Then a cough. Still got the cold I see. Darn. Eyes slowly roll their way upwards and...wow.
I had Cloud hair.
Actual proper, big spike sticking straight up and defying reason, Cloud hair.
I wish I could have taken a picture but then everyone would have to see my morning face.
I'm debating whether I have the energy for lectures. I wouldn't mind if the lecture theatres were at least a little comfy but I can barely keep myself upright, let alone balance myself on a pew and write on a teeny piece of table. Worst part of it is I have to go to the library at least sometime before Monday at 11am. Man can I not be bothered with that.
Whoever gave me this cold, I dun like you.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Fevrale dostat chernil i plakat
I got a cold. I'm usually not one to moan about colds considering the time when I first became a veggie and sniffled just about every day. (protip do not think you can live off quiche for several months just because neither you nor your mum can think of anything else to eat) But this one is making my head all guddled. Like everything is really far away from me or something. Dunno, am ill.
I've missed History again cos I just could not move this morning. I'm gonna miss Classics too much since I think I might curl up and die if I have to sit on another bus so soon. I will spend today instead thinking healing thoughts. Really I should have done that last night but Emma dragged me out instead to el cinema to see Day Watch (not to be confused with Bay Watch unfortunately since we'd all love to see vampy Hasseloff I'm sure) with her hottie of a pirate man. Although truthfully I didn't mind at all, there are few people I'd drop everything and go see and she is one of them. Plus the film was fantastically mad. But then I've always thought the Russians were a bit crazy in a good way. So wish I could back there and not be bothered by the fact that I was in a shitty relationship and my sister almost died. Especially when I return and I'm all 'oh god my sis almost died and she's the freakin best' and he's all 'haha you almost killed your sis' and his mum's all 'haha I hear you poisoned your sis'. Murders nearly happened that day. Murders with big knives.
Oh man, some sort of groovy song just came on my itunes. Did not know I even had this or why I do.
Oh yeah, it was on Buffy this one time.
Tis jazzy.
So yeah, film was good. Subtitles were amazing, all animated and relevant. The translation was pretty good from what I could work out (using my 'how to determine if subtitles are good' skills from French there)
Man the song got a bit annoying now with too much ahhing and stuff. Hurrah April March is next. For those of you who didn't see Death Proof, first off what's wrong with you? It's a ridiculously pointless laugh of a film and I stick by that no matter how floplike it goes; secondly there's the best song at the credits by the girl who sang the theme song for I M Weasel. So good. Bad thing is though I was humming it to myself as I walked home last night and this car was facing the wrong way across the road. As soon as I was opposite it, the car leaps into life, swerves into the right lane and drives off. I thought it was coming to get me and may have eeped a little.
Lets see now, film=good. Subtitles=great. Emma's cute babbling excitement over Pirate Guy? Utterly adorable.
What else is new. Oh yeah, new hair. Not mannish anymore, no sirree bob it ain't! The girl straightened it all to hell and then said she'd mess it up but instead made my head look like an egg. I attacked it more with goo though and it went all flicky and purty. Liking it lots.
Oh! And I got The Fountain in graphic novel form. It's as gorgeously heart-breaking as the film. Love, love, love it.
Bleargh cold. Hurry up with that cold cure scientist guys. Come on now, leave the crazy 'lets make a sheep from nothing won't that be a larf' and do something useful for once.
Oh, one last thing. My guy in classics has sideburns! And doesn't look like a twat with them!
I've missed History again cos I just could not move this morning. I'm gonna miss Classics too much since I think I might curl up and die if I have to sit on another bus so soon. I will spend today instead thinking healing thoughts. Really I should have done that last night but Emma dragged me out instead to el cinema to see Day Watch (not to be confused with Bay Watch unfortunately since we'd all love to see vampy Hasseloff I'm sure) with her hottie of a pirate man. Although truthfully I didn't mind at all, there are few people I'd drop everything and go see and she is one of them. Plus the film was fantastically mad. But then I've always thought the Russians were a bit crazy in a good way. So wish I could back there and not be bothered by the fact that I was in a shitty relationship and my sister almost died. Especially when I return and I'm all 'oh god my sis almost died and she's the freakin best' and he's all 'haha you almost killed your sis' and his mum's all 'haha I hear you poisoned your sis'. Murders nearly happened that day. Murders with big knives.
Oh man, some sort of groovy song just came on my itunes. Did not know I even had this or why I do.
Oh yeah, it was on Buffy this one time.
Tis jazzy.
So yeah, film was good. Subtitles were amazing, all animated and relevant. The translation was pretty good from what I could work out (using my 'how to determine if subtitles are good' skills from French there)
Man the song got a bit annoying now with too much ahhing and stuff. Hurrah April March is next. For those of you who didn't see Death Proof, first off what's wrong with you? It's a ridiculously pointless laugh of a film and I stick by that no matter how floplike it goes; secondly there's the best song at the credits by the girl who sang the theme song for I M Weasel. So good. Bad thing is though I was humming it to myself as I walked home last night and this car was facing the wrong way across the road. As soon as I was opposite it, the car leaps into life, swerves into the right lane and drives off. I thought it was coming to get me and may have eeped a little.
Lets see now, film=good. Subtitles=great. Emma's cute babbling excitement over Pirate Guy? Utterly adorable.
What else is new. Oh yeah, new hair. Not mannish anymore, no sirree bob it ain't! The girl straightened it all to hell and then said she'd mess it up but instead made my head look like an egg. I attacked it more with goo though and it went all flicky and purty. Liking it lots.
Oh! And I got The Fountain in graphic novel form. It's as gorgeously heart-breaking as the film. Love, love, love it.
Bleargh cold. Hurry up with that cold cure scientist guys. Come on now, leave the crazy 'lets make a sheep from nothing won't that be a larf' and do something useful for once.
Oh, one last thing. My guy in classics has sideburns! And doesn't look like a twat with them!
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