27 June, 2011

Discrimination (The Boy Who Cried Wolf Syndrome)

Today was Health Day at school, fantasticness! My tutor group (love 'em. Aha. Not.) got the best day, Sex, STI's an Contraception, followed by Drugs, then Mental Health! Woo! We didn't even have to do Trading Standards or Self-Esteem! Pah. Self-Esteem? I INVENTED Self-Esteem, sweetheart.
But yeah, I digress (ooh, haven't done that in a while!); our third class, Mental Health, was run by two women who both had mental health problems themselves; Bipolar disorder and Depression respectively. And, although the talk was enlightening (DID YOU KNOW THAT JIM CAREY IS DEPRESSED? AND WINSTON CHURCHILL HAD O.C.D?!), it was also very, very irritating. A particular quote that made me chuckle in shocked annoyance was ''If you're in hospital with a physical disability, you get more Get Well Cards then you would if you're in hospital with a mental disability; it's discrimination, really...''. Right. First port of call? I'm sure the world isn't really at such a low that we go poking fun at manic depressives by deliberately NOT sending them a bunch of freaking carnations when they're in hospital? Secondly; I WILL personally send you a card next time one of you goes back to the phsyciatric ward, ''Get Well Soon, ring me when the voices stop?!''. Okay. So, it sounds NOW like I'm discriminating. How can I possibly begin to empathise with these poor people, who must be so lonely? Thousands of people are probably terrified and isolated right now, and I can't being to understand that at all. But how can I possibly try, or WANT to try, when we learn about how everyone seems to steer clear of mentally unhealthy people? How can I feel a burning passion to help people like this, and to stop my own ignorance, if I'm being told that it's too late anyway, everyone hates a mad person? That even if we all mucked i and helped now, it's too late?
Do you see what I'm saying? Or am I not making sense? Oh, I don't know. In other news, two girls in my class today FINALLY learnt who Winston Churchill was.
**puts two fingers to temple. Pulls imaginary trigger**

26 June, 2011

I don't LIKE you.

I don't know what it is about the hot weather (hottest day of the year, yeah baby!) that makes everyone act like such a joker. And by joker I mean idiot. And by idiot, I mean *profanity*. It's just that almost everyone I've spoken to today, bar a precious few, has annoyed or offended me in some way. I don't know what it is. I'm hot and tired and headachey, and I can't be bothered dealing with everyone else's rubbish today. Might just go and sunbathe in mah bikini. I don't know.
I DON'T CARE!

21 June, 2011

Description of scene #1

AHA. I thought I'd have to do one sooner or later, and I've had a request for it (my first post request, yayayay!! Comment or TwitBook me if you have a suggestion) so I thought I'd give it a go.
Alrighty. So, at the moment of writing, it's currently 9:48pm GMT and I'm sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor writing this post. I'm wearing my pjj's (Grey 'No Slogan' tshirt and pink stripy pjj bottoms), as well as three bracelets, one hairtie, two earrings and an anklet. My TV is on and Not Going Out is playing in the background, and my room is softly (mood lighting, eh?) lit by my fairy lights. It's not yet totally dark and I can see the silhouette of trees from my vantage point, through my bedroom window. My room is reasonably tidy...at least, it looks tidy from this angle. My brother is hanging around outside my bedroom, and he just called me a 'plastic raspberry-flavoured Tickle Bear' and 'a giant, oversized Oreo'. He's now crouching over me, surveying my every word typed and commenting on my awful typing skills which aren't actually that bad, thanks, Wills, because I can touch-type...can you?! No you can't. Go home. Yes. Go home. I don't care what you want, go home. Ew, that wierd Radox pseudo-Japanese advert just came on. Ewww. It's wierd. Heh. Ah, I just had an arm-spasm and accidentally hit my brother in the face :/ it's a serious disability, I'm telling you. He's now laughing. Go away, Wills. YES.

But anyway. OOH. That song by Gram Master Flash just came on, with the Eau De Lacoste advert. Hey, check me out advertising.
Cor.
Right, I'm going to bed because I have a raging headache and I'm tired. WILLIAM, PLEASE STOP READING EVERYTHING I TYPE IN A HY-PHEN-A-TED TONE OF VOICE. Gah!

Baibai.

20 June, 2011

Give me something to believe in...

Cos I don't believe in you anymore, anymore.
I wonder if it even makes a difference, it even makes a difference to try.
I'm not deaf...you say something to me then talk behind your hands.
I thought it wouldn't hurt anymore. But I was wrong, we all were :)
Lots of things are left unsaid, when we're running out of time to say them.
It's such a crime to feel wanted!
Sometimes I say things I don't mean, like, 'I'm fine'. But sometimes, you do too, like, 'I love you', right?
Sat in an English classroom writing an essay, feeling the momentary jolt as you finally figure out what you're s'posed to be writing!
You're too much for someone like me. So I'm going to make sure I have forever to learn.
Say hello to all the boys at the top of the table that you're under.
You weren't the first, or the last, but possibly the prettiest.
Ahhh :) you talk about her like she meant nothing. What does that make me?
I remember how you once said, ''Nothing's stopping us from lasting forever, not if we both want it badly enough''. I wish you still said things like that.
Like 100 more.
And he's making you scream with his hands on your hips...hope he's leaving you empty baby, this is just a fix for a simple little whore
So pull the trigger, it never gets closer, you wanna start over, never start over.
All that's changed is this pretty face.

COME AND RUN WITH ME, BABY.
I love how I can't squash my feelings down into a mere 160 characters...BlackBerry texting, you SUCK.
Bite meh?
Everyday I'm hurting, I come home and I'm funny.
If I'm happy then everything works!
Kick the door down if they lock you in :]
I'm scared to death that everything you said to me was just a lie until you left.

I love montages. Photos, lyrics, words, feelings.
Let's dance to joy division and celebrate the irony!
''If they call me a ho, Imma be the biggest damn ho they've ever seen!''
and
''Hey, don't worry about the rumours...if I was you, I'd take naked pictures of myself too, cos you are HAWT.''
And put the hook where it hurts the most.
Everyone was kissing fire and we all got burnt.
I love you. And I hate this.

Sat in my room typing my head!
I'll be fine, I swear...I'm just gone beyond repair.
Getting into Triple Science on a total fluke; everytime I answer a question in class and it's correct, I feel like Jesus.
Geting more than five likes on your status is a good day.
Laughing uncontrollably at a line in a book and making yourself read it over and over again until you stop smiling.
Hunched in bed late at night, my book illuminated by the twinkly lights. I feel safe, and I love turning them off and snuggling down, and looking at the dim shade of blue light cast over my room.
Sometimes, I'm a little bit beautiful, yeah.
I would so marry myself if that was legal.

Don't you just want to run around naked sometimes?
''What are you wearing tomorrow?'' ''Nothing''.
Your inspiration is the loss of absolutely everything.
We won't capture every perfect moment, every brilliant word, every fantastic joke. We can't record an amazing day, a happy sigh, a lovly feeling. We can sure as hell try, though.
Stop being different once in a while.
Why can't we all just get alahhhhhng?
You over-dramatise EVERYTHING! Um...duh?
Every single American high-school film lied its ass off to me. Thanks.
OH MY GAWWWWD!
Preston walking off Buzzcocks. Simon and John's gay-off. ''You Raise Me Up''.

Being half awake and just pretending to sleep whilst you figure out where you are.
We all have a paticular place where we all take photos.
''I'm being artistic'' ''AUTISTIC?'' ''NOH! If I meant Autistic, I'd have said Autistic!''.
The feeling of ridiculous pride when someone compliments me on my blog.
I love being talked about. It means I'm important enough to be thought about, even when I'm not there!
I'm wearing seven bracelets, three necklaces, two earrings and an anklet.
Surprising people.
STEREOTYPING.
Creating evermore abbreviations.
Loking through old texts and going, 'WHUT?! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, WHAT AM I SAYING?!'.
Cringing at the thought of how unimportant you were in Year Seven, and probably still are now.
Rapping a verse by yourself and looking around to see if anyone noticed.
Inwardly cursing when you trip over in public.
That awful feeling when the seam of your tights digs into the corner of your toe.
WHY DID I WEAR TIGHTS TODAY? IT'S LIKE 300 DEGREES!

Black and yellow, black and yellow, black and yellow.
Replaying a bit of a song because it amuses you.
It's not about the Price Tag, eh? So I s'pose you did that song for free?
Like dododododododo...
Blogging. I live for this.
Being casually racist if your friends are black or Asian.
Having a perfectly circular face.
Being sorely tempted to faceplant anything and everything.
Collecting odd glances like gold.
Doing something by yourself for the first time and feeling so grownuo, no matter what age you are.
Random spots on your person?
Converting my Facebook profile into French. This helps me learn!
Thumbs up for life.
Poking somene repeatedly.
''Dude. Dude. Dude. Dude. Dude. Dude. Dude...'' ''You're stood right next to me!'' ''Yeah, but you were talking''.
Anarchy equals non-uniform day/substitute teachers.
Your parents' wedding or stories of your birth :)
Randomly crying?!
I wish I could leapfrog. That'd make me instantly cool.
Realising when someone's talking about you and being all, 'AHA! I have cracked your clever code'.
Using the same letter at the beginning of each word five times in a row; alliteration-gasm!
Hearing a song you like when you're walking, and strutting.
Heh. I don't like you.
Is it just me who thinks she's actually fugly?



Okay, I'm done. Tumblr overload.

17 June, 2011

"Does everyone hate you? " "Yeah" "Oh. Same, then"...

I was looking at a girl's old Facebook profile a minute ago (she's made a new once since) and it's occured to me that one of the idiots on there is so double-crossed that he could be fratwork.
So this girl got LOOOOADS of trouble for some rumour or sum'sumin' that happened a while ago, and when everything came out, seven types of proverbial were coming her way. In the end, the abuse got so bad that she went off Facebook for a while, I'm assuming (I don't know, I'm not fully up-to-date) and there was one comment in particular that sparked off a mountain of abuse...one of the sub-comments following this was somrthing along the lines of 'This made my night', basically meaning that all the entertainment [abuse] had made this guy's evening as it was so engaging and funny.

So, I was looking at her newer profile and in loads of the pictures there was this guy, the same one who made that comment on her old profile. And the fact that he's now 'there for her' after all the abuse passed strains to highlight my obvious point.
He also posted a comment about people hating her loads, which was liked by almost everyone who hates her at the time. Did she retaliate? Not to my knowledge.

My point of this isn't to get people into trouble if some of my friends read this and it gets spread round. I'm not trying to stir things up, I'm certainly not taking sides and you can punch me in the face if you think I'm trying to get all this hatred back on the girl again...she was a close friend of mine, for a short time.
No, my point is that it's a lot easier to befriend someone if they're flavour of the month. But it's really, really hard when everyone hates them. This is why I've lost a lot of my friends recently...I was the target of some random abuse, concerning a few of my guy friends, and I lost a lot of them due to it. Obviously it's frustrating, but in a way it's also quite useful, because I can now see who my real friends are.
This afternoon, for example, I was in Tech making some bracelets for our upcoming school Fete, and I was chatting to one of my guy friends, a boy who'd apologised profusely and plentifully for the way he treeated me during the period of said abuse. Butt hen, when we were talking to a couple of the girls responsible, he totally changed. He became rude, and stupid and really patronising. I didn't know all these obscure sexual references, and I was made to look stupid because of that.

Friendship, I've come to realise, is such a precious commodity nowadays. Before, I was tempted to believe that it came quite easily but have since learnt that if you're not careful, you can loose all of these carefully crafter friends in one fell swoop. I've now started to value all my friends a lot more highly, as I believe that to have a friend, a true friend who would never jurdge you, who you've told all your awful misdoings to and who is still there for you, even after all the trouble they've got for it...well, that's pretty special :)

And I'm being careful now. I don't trust anyone. Because I know how scared people are at this age, of loosing their popularity, their street cred, their respect, and ending up like me. I'm like a Public Health Warning: if you act like this, people won't like you.
I was stupid enough to believe that all of my friends were brave enough to stand up for me...for themselves, in a way, and what they believe in. But I forgot that they're teenagers. Individuality means change, and change terrifies all of them.
Oh yeah, we're all very defensive when it comes to mistakes we've made or things we regret, because we're all growing up and changing. But no way do we want to apply that, to put that into practise in real life.

I hate being so helpless, only able to watch all my friends skip gradually away from me. I hate how people's perception of me has changed so dramatically. I hate the way I was cruising along, just saring to hope that I was finally the right side of acceptance, for almost the whole year, until this perfectly times blow shot me down. But most of all? I hate the fallout that the act (seemingly on a whim) has caused. I hate how I'm still loosing friends, I'm still treated differently, there are still people whipsering about me, how I'm still at Square One.

I'm exactly the same place I was at the beginning of Year Seven, barely knowing or being able to trust anyone.
And I hate it.

So I hope that those people I'm talking about read this post. I hope they all know that it's them I'm talking about. I hope that they feel just the tiniest bit of regret for making me feel this way. I really don't want their pity, I've had enough with everyone feeling sorry for poor little reject girl who has no friends. I really, really don't want them back, either. I'm not looking for apologies. I don't think I'm looking for acceptance either. I don't know what I'm looking for, but whatever it is, it's not them. I don't want my old friends back, because that's just what they are, really. Old friends. Gone. In the past. Forgotten.

Just like I was when everyone hated me.

15 June, 2011

Five-minute rant.

Without wanting to sound self-pitying, I want to talk about the total unfairness of some teachers. I won't mention any names, as I'm not sure if some of my actual teachers still read this, but just to be on the safe side, so...
My tutor, (won't name her) seems to have it in for me majorly. I know you're supposed to respect your elders without question, but I'm of the opinion that, confronted with such naked dislike, the chances of me respecting said teacher are VERY low. The thing is, if you're nice to me, I'll be nice to you. But if you're horrible, and you hate me unquestionably, without reason, from the word Go, then I'm going to rebel. I'm lovely for some teachers, I try really hard to participate in lessons, voice my opinion, work to the best of my ability. But in tutorial, I'll do anything I can to make it difficult. Subtly, of course, I'm not getting a detention for all my trouble. I'll give you an example of the absolute extent of my frustration;
This morning, for whatever reason, a whole bunch of costumes were in a pile on the front table, which I was sent unceremoniously to sit at after being caught without (le gasp!) a chair. So, I sat at the table, and tried on one of the hats. One of the other boys had been wearing a top hat from the pile since I walked into the tutor room, so I assumed (yes, yes, I ASSUMED. I made an ass out of u and me, I KNOW.) that it was fine, as he was still wearing the blasted thing. I tried on a flat cap, which pleased me somewhat, until I got yelled at (honestly!) for wearing it. I took it off calmly, my rage building inside me slowly, until the boy sent to sit next to me tried on this truly hideous but very amusing nylon, blonde wig. He looked BRILLIANT! He also got told to take off the wig, and I was picking stray strands of plastic out of his hair whilst listening to the notices. Unfortunately, this simple action was swooped upon, and I got shouted at AGAIN for not paying attention. When responding that I WAS paying attention, and that I COULD in fact do both at once, I got told off yet again for fiddling with costumes and being rude. To which I near-hysterically responded, pointing in the direction of Tophat Boy, ''DO YOU THINK IT GROWS OUT OF HIS SKULL?! HE'S WEARING COSTUME TOO!''. Ah, final straw, and I got sent outside.

Conclusion? People have totally lost control when they resort to petty punishment, and are way beyond reason. So, don't waste your time. In fact, you should secretly feel just a little bit proud if you ever get told off unreasonably...it means that you've made someone loost control. ;D

14 June, 2011

Churchy!

Today was a Curriculum Day at my school, which meant I had no normal lessons, just focused on two topics all day. The first was MFL (Modern Foreign Languages) of which I had to write, and perform with my group, an entire play in French (we did Goldilocks and the Three Bears, or Boucle D'Or et le trois Ors). It was pretty fun, we got filmed and there was an EPIC fight scene at the end of it, which none of us had entirely planned :L

The second part of the day was R.E, and we had to walk up the hill to the country's first eco-friendly chruch, St. George's in Newbury (their website is http://www.georgesgoesgreen.com) and I was scoffing all the way there. I think my phrase of choice was something like, ''Religion and the environment, two of my favourite things!''. so yeah, scoffing and complaining was I, looking forward to a quick nap during the talk. I'm not putting down the Reverend, I think it's lovely that he gave up his time to talk to us about something that he was obviously very proud of. The thing I dislike is having it shoved down our throats, the obviously underlying message being, ''You're making the angels cry when you use hairdryers''. I wish they didn't get the church involved to shame us into being more eco-friendly, because quite frankly, it just makes me quite disdainful. If anything, I'd rather be told to switch off plugs by Nyan Cat, maybe then I'd listen.
Admittedly, for the most part, I was drifting in and out of daydreams, concentrating on how smooth and even the ceiling was, an OCD's absolute dream. But, right near the end the talk veered off into religion. As you probably know if you're a regular reader of Whimsical Ramblings, I'm a firm Athiest, and I don't believe in God. So, when the Reverend was talking about expressing ourselves in ways other than talking, and stopping our MP3 players and turning off the T.V's, but listening to our voices inside, I was still a bit scoffy. But then he talked about lighting candles. He invited five people to volunteer and come up to light a candle, because, he said, ''It will help to release your inner hopes, desires, dreams and fears. It's a prayer for something beyond words''. I was a bit afraid to put my hand up, even though I wanted to. So I waited until the first, the second, the third person had come up, lit a candle, stood to face the Church for a prayer, then come back down. At the fourth, I apprehensively put my hand up but another girl got there first. So by the fifth, I was determined. My hand shot up, and I pipped tthe others to the post. I came up to the front and i swear the Reverend could read my mind, as I was thinking about lighting a candle for my nannan and Grandad, two of only a few people in the world whom I loved unconditionally and miss every single day. The others prayers he read from the book of Psalms were about loving God, your family, friends and being thankful for your health. My prayer was about loosing loved ones, and having enough faith in God that we shoul trust that they are happier with him; there's no more pain, or sadness, or fighting. At this point, my head ducked down and I did start to cry, I admit.

Sometimes, when the things that you least expect come out of the blue and lapdance your face, it shocks you a bit. It really, really caught me off guard to know that it wasn't JUST me who felt that way about loosing someone. That sounds really self-centered but I can't explain it. Sometimes, I wish someone could be me so they could know what I was thinking, so I wouldn't have to try and explain. I want to get my thoughts out there to anyone who will listen. I know it seems like a lot, but this blog is just a fraction of my brain words.

To conclude, I think that now, although I'm not suddenly all religious, and I'm still doubtful that there's a God, it's reassuring to know that if there IS someone out there, up there, in there, wherever, then the people I love aren't alone. I've always known that they're up there, together, all of them. Everyone I lost is up there, spending all there time doing the things they want to do, and finally being a bit free.
And for all the times when I felt sad because I missed them, if there's a way I can get back to that, to let them know how much i care, then i'm willing to try it.

I really want to thank the Reverend (I won't say his name...) because I swear he could read my mind at that moment, and even though he couldn't, I felt for a second like someone else knew my mind inside out. Whether that was a coincedence or not, it made me finally believe in something bigger and better than all of us, and that's one of the best gfts I think I've ever had. I need to go and think about this now. Thank you :]

13 June, 2011

"What's your favourite tipple?"

The quote my ridiculous teacher put forth this afternoon during our PDP session in our tutor group. We'd just read an 'article' (a cheap, trashy, RealLife! page) on a teenager girl who drank over 250 units of alchohol a week and doesn't regret it. And also, let me just add that we didn't discuss this article once. No, we were too busy discussing our favourite alchoholic drinks, hence the title quote. As our teacher, she's supposed to be warning us against binge-drinking, we didn't even discuss the health risks. But we wasted twenty minutes of purile discussion about our favourite cocktails, lager, whatever. And of course, this was some peoples' real chance to shine; they couldn't believe their ears! "Favourite drink? Yep, I know all about that!

08 June, 2011

Just sometimes.

Have you ever wondered what you looked like through someone else's eyes?

I was going to write a really long post tonight, but I've just realised that I can't be bothered to be honest. I hate it when that happens; out of nowhere, this overwhelming sense of futility just looms, like a shadow, or German homework. Meh. C'est ma vie.

07 June, 2011

And now ladies and gentlemen, I attempt to make history. (BIBLE MASHUP!)

In the beginning, my Mother created the upstairs and downstairs. Now the house was formless and empty, the darkness was over the surface of the lounge and the spirit of B&Q was hovering overhead, in the form of a very fetching light fitting, soon to become an elaborate chandelier to cause much pain on the day of the second coming of Callum.

In the New Testament, there was my Father, who introduced the Ten Commandments;
1) Thou shalt not answer me back
2) Thou shalt feed the cats every morning
3) Thou shalt do thy homework on time, every day
4) Thou shalt not go out, dressed as the Whore of Babylon
5) Thou shalt not be a Liberal Democrat
6) Thou shalt love, not thy neighbour, but thy family
7) Thou shalt not murder thy brother, Cane
8) Thou shalt not answer back, neither me, nor God
9) Thou shalt not post inappropriate things on thy Facebook account
10) Thou shalt not partake in the Immaculate Conception (Footnote: I don't care if your friend V. Mary did it! If she jumped off a bridge, would you?!)

Unfortunately, within hours of the Ten Commandments imposed, I, Abel, broke both the 7th and 9th Commandments, and so I was smited violently, by God. God then sent me to my room, where there was darkness. (Footnote; the only reason I killed my brother was because he went in my room and stole my stuff. I hate it when he does that. I hit him with a shoe and he just...CRUMPLED?!)

The twelve disciples, Jake, Cazza, Sam, Peter, Jordan, Andrew, Adam, Jordy, Joe, Akshay, James and Rhian were faithful to Callum. All but one; Rhian was lovely by day, but by night, plotted and schemed for his downfall, via the wisdomical Facebook. But Rhian's actions were to attracted that of a friendly Jew, Kaitlin, who alerted her men (Ceri, Amy, Jess and Livvy) to put Callum to death on the cross. When Rhian, who had betrayed him, saw that Callum was condemned, she was seized with remorse and said to her fellows, "I have sinned," she said, "for I have betrayed innocent blood."
"What is that to us?" they replied. "That's your responsibility." So Rhian threw a huge strop, roundhoused Cazza in the face and left the temple.

Whilst this was happening, this time some years ago, an angel in the form of a lanky ginger BABE called Charles appeared to Nicole at the window. ''Do not be afraid of my quiff, fair Nicole'', the angel implored, ''for I am here to bring you news. I am here on behalf of my girlfriend's mother, who just also happens to be God, to tell you that she wishes you to become impregnated with the Son Of God.''. Nicole was confused- for, she was engaged to fair Jesille, a humble carpenter, was she not? But the angel merely said, ''You are a virgin. It is within God's power to impregnate you. Whereupon you become pregnant, you shall name your son Jesus Christ, and your eldery relative, Jess, will give birth to Akshay, who will pave the way for the Lord''.

For many months, Nicole lived, with the Son of God growing inside her, her foolish husband thinking that she'd probably just eaten too much over the past few months, until she came clean one eventide. ''WHAT?!'', Jesille claimed in anguish, ''But you are a virgin, my fair wife!''.
''I know, I know! Cor, this is just like Eastenders...''
''Stop changing the subject!''
''DO NOT SHOUT AT A PREGNANT, HORMONAL WOMAN. I AM CARRYING THE SAVIOUR OF THE EARTH, AND I'M CRAVING MARMITE AND SPONGES. AND...you never do the washing up!''
''Oh, the washing up! AGAIN?! Cannot I use my mule to unburden me from this task?''
''NO! The mule is not your slave! AND HIS NAME IS GNASH!''
''Fine! You're up the duff, my donkey has a name and you're craving Marmite. What. Ever.''
''Don't make me make you watch Glee...!''
''OKAY! I'm sorry! I'm going out to get sponges. Tssck.''

And so the night arrived as Nicole and Jesille travelled to Newbury on Gnash, the Mule, to register their marriage and prospective birth, when the pains started. ''OOF!''

At the first inn, they were turned away by Samuel, and at the second, by the cruel Millie with her red glasses. At the third, however, they found salvation in the form of an old, kindly owner called Amberly, with an empty barn. Relieved, Jesille led Nicole and Gnash to the barn, by which time there was little to go until the birth. Nicole was laid down upon a bed of strawer, next to a handly -placed IKEA-manger, although they had such trouble putting it up that they almost missed it. The next hour was traumatic and fraught, as Nicole pushed and pushed with all her might.
''PUSH!''
''NO!''
''PUUUUUUUUUUSH!''
''YOU. DID. THIS. TO. ME!''
''No I didn't, you shlag, that was ''God'', remember?''
''PFFT. SHUT. UP!''
''Oh whatever, I'm going back to the inn for a Carlsberg...''
''IF...YOU...DARE...''
''You'll what? Get your son to smite me?''
''I WILL KILL YOU. I SWEAR TO BETH'S MUM, I WILL!''
''Jesus, I'll stay, you moody mare!''
''I'M IN LABO- OHHHHHHHH!''

And thus, Callum was born. Unfortunately, it WAS Christmas day, and so the three wise men didn't show up until the end of The Royle Family. When they eventually did, the gifts they presented didn't really cut the mustard, but by then they didn't really care. The first, Hannah, presented Callum with a bunch of limp carnations. The second, Emma, presented a tin of Quality Street, but with all the green triangles missing, and a vast majority of...TOFFEE PENNIES! WTF?! The third, Kiera, presented Callum with a lock of her own vivid orange hair, in the hope that he would take it and remember her, and perhaps pity her in future, and change her hair colour.

So, after the whole Jesus shenanigan, things moved on a bit and basically, we fair humans messed up the world a bit which wound my Mother up NO END. So in the end, she appealed to Ollie, a humble worksman, and warned him of a legendary flood, whereupon it would rain for forty days and forty nights, which he shrugged at because, hey, it IS England after all. Oh no wait, we're in Israel. DAMMIT!

With this in mind, Ollie got to work, building a huge wooden boat, an Arc; I tell you, B&Q LOVED HIM. Unfortunately, on the day of the flood, he lost his loyalty card and so didn't get any points, which is why he was in a filthy mood when he was gathering the animals, and deliberately left out the unicorns and the dinosaurs, and only took one Dodo, so it was impossible to reproduce. So, yeah, Ollie, thanks for messing up the world for us.

Then it rained for forty days and forty nights, and at some point, Moses, my Dad, would get bored and decide to part the Red Sea, on his way over to Morocco. This annoyed my Mum, so she kicked him with a big celestial foot, from way up in the clouds. And then The Devil LOL'ed so hard, it accidentally kicked off the apocolypse. Woooooops. But it's cool, because by then the world was due to end anyway, because it was December 21st 2012. So, yeah.

Thank you to http://www.biblegateway.com and, of course, http://www.lifeofchrist.com.

Credits;
God- My Mum
Moses- My Dad
Cain- My Brother
Abel- Me
Mary- Nicole B.
Joseph- Jesille E.
Jesus- Callum Y.

The twelve disciples

Simon- Jake R.
Andrew- Sam T.
James- Peter E.
John- Akshay N.
Philip- Andrew M.
Bartholomew- Adam W.
Matthew- Jordy H.
Thomas- Joe L.
James (Son of Alpheus)- Jordan R.
Simon (who was called the Zealot)- James B.
Judas (son of James)- Callum 'Cazza' P.
Judas Iscariot- Rhian V.

Friendly Jew- Kaitlin P.
Jewish Soldier 1- Ceri R.
Jewish Soldier 2- Amy C.
Jewish Soldier 3- Jess P.
Jewish Soldier 4- Livvy M.

The Angel Gabriel- Charles B.

Elderly relative- Jess B.
John- Akshay N.

Inn Owner 1- Sam P.
Inn Owner 2- Millie R.
Inn Owner 3- Amberly D.

Mule- Gnash P. (my dog)

Wise Man 1- Hannah R.
Wise Man 2- Emma P.
Wise Man 3- Kiera C.

Noah- Ollie H.

The Devil- Fiona G.

Thank you to everyone who let me rewrite it, hope it was as good as the real thing ;D

Why I love this place...


It's Cornwall. It's on the end of England, the closest place you can get to a holiday abroad, in Ye Olde Englande. It's a long drive down, about six hours. It nearly always rains on the journey down, but it's okay because I have the windows wide open and my duvet wrapped around me. You always fall out of the car when you get there because you're so numb. Packing the night before can really not compare to any holiday I've been on anywhere before.
I feel almost numb with excitement, but I'll sleep probably half of the way there. As soon as I see the sea I feel that familiar leap of excitement and tension in the pit of my stomach...will it be as good as last year? Will anything have changed? Am I just dreaming? Fortunately, all of these fears go unfounded :) the first day of zipping up wetsuits (it takes forever, so out of practice) and feeling like a rubber band, until you pound your way across the sand, suddenly full of limitless energy and gazing as far out to see as possible. Then the wierd moment when I'm caught in a limbo of feeling the cold water wash over me, but not feeling it close to my skin as it should be. Then the moment passes and I need to wade out, deep, deep, as far as I can possibly go to catch the biggest waves, the fastest, the strongest. The first one, whilst not the best, is probably the most important, to acclimatise you to the cold and get you back in the swing of things. It's easy to be out there for hours, feeling the cold wind and the washing against your face, catching wave after wave and not noticing how cold or out of breath you are until you eventualy drag your tired body in, across the damp, packed sand reflecting you, trailing your board. You collapse by the towels and the supplies, catch up with everyone else but secretly, even though you're there, you're not really. You can feel the waves pulling at your legs still, feel the buzz in your brain and watch the sea, crashing and hissing endlessly. Your mind is still out there, focused only on the salt and the sea and the damp air. This is why I love Cornwall, the way it makes me feel. The fact that no matter how troubled you are, a couple of hours on your board in the water does the trick, all the time :)

06 June, 2011

The Ace Gang!

My perfect imperfections!

This idea was taken from m'friend over there (http://stonedonabridge.blogspot.com if her posts are as good as her looks, you guys are in for something SWEET) who in turn took it from a YouTube tag, which ROCKED. Basically, three things I love and hate about my good self. So here goes nothing...

Three things I like;
My eyes; people are commenting on them pretty often, telling me how big they are and stuff :) and I like the scar about my left eye (idk...) and my eyelashes, and I pretty much love the colours (they change :D).
My skin tone; sometimes (like now) it is the excact (not even joking) shade of Vanilla ice cream, but my arms always remain slightly tanned, as does my stomach :D
My sense of humour; little bit cheeky, little bit crazy. Sarcasm mixed with wit, mixed with self-deprication, mixed with wierdity :D

Three things I dislike;
My nose; it's way too big and bumpy, so I hate it tbf.
My figure; my shoulders are too big, as is my bum, but my waist is tiny, so stuff that's like, a Size Eight which is what I shoulda been, I can't fit into, I'm going for a twelve instead -.-
My personality; it's very off and on, and I'm pretty quick as well. If I decide I don't like somone, it generally stays that way, and I'm very quick to make decisions.

So that's me. What do you guys think? Leave a comment or something below, it can be totally anonymous, and be as honest as you like. Happy reading!