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.

Humpin' Pumpkin

It's Halloween! Woo and yay. I've cut my pumpkins. They look a tad ragged but I did what I could with the resources I had: 1 large spoon, 1 too big knife. Today was crazy. I got up before 8, made it into my history class on time and remained pretty damn happy until the tiredness crept in. All of this done after drinking a fair amount of rum last night. Which means, boys and girls, that your good friend Catherine had her first night out and didn't end up with a depressing hangover! Therefore, I should only get drunk in the company of guys, only way to not wake up miserable. It was actually pretty nice having a night out and being the only girl there. I don't know the name of the other girl who was there so I'm not counting her (sorry no-name!). I miss male company. All my male friends were from high school and I don't see them often and some of them are better friends with my ex anyway. So it was great, despite the nose crushing hugs and excessive pushing. All in all pretty good day today. Now to ruin it with an essay I have to write! Because I'm too lazy to make this a proper post have some writing.

Goodbye to You

Damn. This is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I'm not really sure where I should even begin. You know, daft as it sounds, I really did the whole plan everything you want to say montage in the mirror only without the editing to make it interesting. I can't remember a damn word now. Probably for the best though. Less likely to attack you with barrage of over-used clichés. I'll get to the point, Rambling like this isn't fair to you.

Things haven't been going so well with us lately, you must have noticed. It's my fault. I'm never around anymore. I've left you alone for days without warning and I feel awful for doing it. It's selfish and cruel and I wish there was an easier way to do this. But I'm leaving. I can't go on living this way, with you.

I've been seeing this girl for a while now. Claire. You met her at New Year. Tall, blonde, makes jewellery. You remember. Me and Claire, we hit it off. We kept bumping into each other after the party and things just went on from there. I wasn't planning this and I never ever meant to hurt you. Sometime these things happen organically, there's no helping them.

She has this flat across town. Big loft conversion with a view of the city. You'd like it. She's asked me to move in with her. I really want to. I think I'm in love with her. in fact, I'm fairly certain I am.

Don't go, baby. Stay here and let me finish, please. I want you to know that I'll never forget you. We had some good times together, didn't we. I know you'll find the right person one day and I hope you'll be happy. I can't give you everything you deserve. Not anymore. I always cared about you, don't ever doubt that. You will always mean something special to me.

So this is goodbye. No, get off me. You won't change anything by doing that. I've tried my hardest to make it work but her landlord was adamant about it. Under no circumstances could I move in with Claire and take you with me. I'm sorry. I hope they take good care of you, puss, and find you a loving home.

Goodbye.

Pro-tip while you may have a good idea whilst drunk don't expect your notes to be legible when you wake up the next morning. I had the following written on the back of a History handout: Magicbox, music's the secret to orgasms! So um yeah.

I have a magic music box.

You won't believe me. I don't care.

I found it at a car boot sale in amongst old costume jewellery and yellowing books. It's the colour of twilight and on the lid there's the outline of where the name of its previous owner had been fixed onto the wood. Ophelia. Only the O is clear, bright against the faded paint of the rest of the box. The 'phelia can only be seen if you look long enough. On the bottom a love heart is carved in the wood and coloured a rusty red. There's a hole in the back for the key that winds the music player. I haven't found the actual player yet. There's a false bottom with a ribbon to pull it up. It has to be in there but at some point the bottom's been nailed down and I don't want to break it for fear it loses its power.

I used it to store my journal before I knew what it was capable of. The woman who sold it to me never mentioned the music player, nor was there a key included. Three months after I bought it I found an envelope taped to my door, addressed to 'that nice boy with too much hair'. Inside was the key on a chain. I wear it round my neck. There was a note attached telling me that music was connected to the soul. That was all. I thought nothing of it until a week later when the power went out and the flat upstairs had a candle-lit party. With the CD player out and none of us having any musical talent I brought along my box and wound it up for the first time.

The music my box can play is something you've never really heard before. It plays the music of dreams. Far from the tinkling of your average music box, mine plays proper tunes. Fully orchestrated. It never plays the same song twice. That night it played music to dance too. Music that makes you feel invincible. I met my girl at that party. We danced all night and laughed til morning.

I'll tell you a secret, my music box is better than sex.

My girl winds it herself one night and lies across my bed, her cigarette hanging languidly from her soft lips. I sit on the floor, her head hanging off the end of the bed resting on my shoulder. The song begins with the first twinges of strings and soft taps of the percussion warming up. The guitars begin strong and steady building up as the rest of the band join in. The vocals are stage whispers bringing goosebumps to the back of my neck, the strings cause that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that softens her agate eyes as she looks up at me. The music swells, her body tenses and the volume increases. I'm dimly aware of my roommate banging on the wall for quiet but we're too far gone to care. The voices are practically shouting now, the strings are sweeping, one lone violin can be heard separate from the rest just for a moment, carried away with its own music making. My girl gives a shudder and the music climaxes before winding down, each instrument dropping out of the melody until only there's only a distant twinkling of chimes. Gently I move over to the desk and wind the box again. She wriggles a little and smiles at me as I lie beside her. I kiss her as the soft piano piece floats round the room. She cuddles into me, her body fitting perfectly against mine. The smell of her skin fills my head. We fall asleep where we lie as the music continues to play, completely content.