"Remember, you're sharing your home with a wolf"*

jesus, okay, fine, alright, some people may be able to quote me as saying "I don't care about dogs. I would happily kick a puppy in the street", but let's not dwell upon such hastily delivered words. Onwards and upwards I say, and let's let all our bygones go by. Let's all hold hands and paws and gills and any other appendages you want to throw into the mix and dance together through a luscious meadow.

(I really must be in love. I do not care for dogs in any shape or form. They're just massive cushions with eyes and teeth.)


*wolf quote attributed to Martin Clunes, may he rest in peace. amen.












(he's not dead)

Today

has been the nicest day of my life.


If you are reading this I assume we either know each other or will have spoken to each other at some point, so if you start to notice that I'm abnormally nice to you in the following weeks the only explanation I can give you is that I am happy. A revolting notion for a cynic. (I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that there is obviously a romantic little anti puppy-kicking romantic inside me masquerading as a bitter, pro puppy-kicking cynic.) I can't even begin to grasp how difficult the 16th is going to be. This experience has been far too short, but I suppose it's the beginning of something substantial and unforgettable. I only hope I don't let this slip through my puppy-strangling fingers.



xo.

the boy whose skin fell off

I have a free house tonight, and I've been alone since about 7pm. I have successfully managed to mess up every room in the house, unintentionally. I lit some candles in the bathroom because it seemed like the right thing to do when I was taking a nice shower and it's what the ladies do on adverts when they want to relax. I blew out the candles and I must have a stronger set of lungs than anybody could have anticipated and ended up blowing wax all over the place. rage.



I watched about 800 episodes of Whose Line is it Anyway? in bed, read some more, fell in love with Heathers (2 Irish girls and a guitar, not the Winona Ryder film) and pranced about leaving my washing everywhere. I haven't done much else and that's the way I like it.

Wax is a motherbitch to clean up.

www.myspace.com/heatherswhatsyourdamage <3

xo.

Morrissey - Rochdale Canal 1989

a postcard from someone good

home

I'm back from work, it was slow and boring, which was to be expected.

I bought James Frey's A Million Little Pieces and began reading it tonight, I started writing inside the book...

As I read this I am staring old age in the face and thinking of the one I love. Stood at the bar looking into his glass is maybe the oldest human being I've ever seen, I feel sad that this man is alone, and he only has the bottom of his glass to look at and I want to tell him I love him and things will be okay for him. I don't. I have in my hand a photograph of my love, in the picture he is young. Younger than I am now. I want to tell him I love him and that things will be okay for us. I do. The old man is drinking Guinness and he looks sadder than anyone I have seen before. Old and sad and old. I serve him another sad Guinness and as I reach over to collect his empty glass he looks down my dress. I let him. He finishes his drink slowly and I smile at him and think of my love growing old and sad and drinking Guinness and looking down young girl's dresses. I look at the photograph, and then back at the old man and I know that I want time to stay the fuck away from me and my love.

fuck

best night ever, I'm suffering insanely today. hold onto your hats.
I have work shortly but when I return... I'll edit this post so it's not shit.

baby baby baby

new laptop is a treat!

ornithology

I am still alive, I know all of you (the one person other than me) who read this have been worried about my absence!



uni is 3 weeks away, I need to buy lots of ridiculous things. ughhh.

xo.



oh yeah, I've thought a lot about The Pigeon Detectives, and this is their songwriting style:

• begin writing a song, preferably start with the chorus
• take one line from the chorus and repeat it a ridiculous amount of times ("take her back, take her back, take her back, take her back" "I'm not sorry, I'm not sorry, I'm not sorry" "this is an emergency, this is an emergency")
• do this with every song and you are successfully an objectively popular band

I sold my soul to Jesus, and since then I've had no fun.

hello hello, I'm at a place called vertigo. oh Bono.

right, hello. it's been a little while since I last posted, (4 days? it seems like a lot of things have gone down in Chinatown since then - no Olympic connotations) and I have decided not to go to university and then changed my mind more than anyone could have imagined!

Life goes on, and I'm excited again now, but when I saw how much the rent for my place in halls is, and how much maintenance loan I'm getting to cover it I think a tiny kitten nearly fell out of me. (This isn't me being ungrateful at all! It was just a bit of a much needed kick round the face to see that 485 english pounds is more or less all I will have to live on for the year after paying rent, so it's the motivation I needed to begin to save, learn to budget and work to earn as much money as I can) I am more than grateful to have a brilliant room, in a brilliant new building, I'm just useless with money and it was the first time I thought "shit" haha. Everything seems unbelievably close now and I will be in the real world soon, a watered down version of it, but still undeniably real.

The dentist's wasn't as hellish as I'd imagined, as it never is. It was a new one, and a man who was... quite saucy. Flirting with your dentist never really works though. I went in the room and acted quite cute. Later on in our mouth exploration (the literal kind) I gagged on the x-ray thing, had to wear big science googles and he sprayed the water thing up my nose at one point. My hopes of ever seeing his erect penis were washed away along with the mouth rinse.
He said everything was in order, but I have to go back in a month to get 2 fillings, which isn't too terrifying.




I got my Drama A Level result today, C which is sweeeet as a nut! more things have happened but I'm boring myself now.


xo.

pulling teeth

Dentist's in a bit, ugh.

in other news my life is sweet. will report when I'm back from Satan's living room. xo

quoth the raven, "nevermore"

Good afternoon universe! Just got back in from a post office visit. More or less the only time I have left the house this week and it was all strictly business. Had some dinner with Stu, Sophie and Bish and it was alright, but my first drink of the day was wine, I'm on a slippery slope, today wine for breakfast, tomorrow... well I don't see how it gets worse really.

Stu took Sophie home and then we went to the house that he is housesitting, and walked a ladie's pug dogs. I called the one I walked Hank. I was a bit frightened of the bigger ones so I picked up one of the cute puppies. It did a wee on me. I left them alone after that.


I realised something today, I have a really big face. (I've had to renew my passport for uni, and the pure fact my passport has been out of date for about 3 years.) So with getting a new passport comes getting new passport photos. Going with people who jerk around behind the curtain doesn't help, so after 3 failed attempts at getting a decent picture, I had to settle with the last picture.
I'll upload it onto here when I can be bothered, but my face looks massive and I look like I'm being held at gunpoint. I honestly look like I'm about to break down and cry.

So I shuffled my last bit of money into a pissy little envelope with all the forms and gave it to Julie, the post office woman. She had a gander and said that my picture wasn't suitable because my fringe was "obstructing" my vision. (a bit of hair was over the corner of my eye) So another four quid down the drain, went to another photo place and got a picture that makes my head look EVEN bigger, and off it goes into the world.

Stu got some good stamps, and I bought a few good postcards, Iplan on sending one to Jim on his damned island, not that he deserves anything.


I got a welcome pack from Plymouth yesterday, full of medical things, timetables, what to do when I enrol and a leaflet for things that will be going on in the student union in the first term, the highlights include:

• Dainton and Pritchard from Dirty Sanchez
• Dr. Kennedy from Neighbours

and the highlight of my life:

• Carlton from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

whoa mama, I have to meet him. If I do it literally doesn't matter what else I do in my life, it will never top it.

My main man got back today or yesterday, and I am yet to hear from him, so I'm a bit sad. Nothing new there.

I sadly have work tonight, which is filling me with dread, but I am in dire need of some money and I've missed my lovely workmates dearly. well, a little bit.

xo.

there are other Moldy Peaches songs you know.

hear me now,

of all the men I want to meet, capture and force to love me, this little man is at the top of the list. Not meaning to sound like a fangirl, but I actually think we might be soulmates. seriously.

xo.

5 for silver, 6 for gold

Had a wild dream about having to perform Arturo Ui again but not having my costume, not being able to remember any of my lines and ruining the whole thing, which was nice. Then woke up and played a bit of Bomberman and watched Monster House - I enjoyed it far too much for a 19 year old.
I also finally watched some of Summer Heights High which everyone seems to be in love with at the moment and it's alright, so I may purchase it when I get money!

Feeling anxious about the visiting the dentist on Monday, literally counting down the hours and everything I want to do is on hold until I've gotten it out of the way, I seem to be categorizing things in my head thusly:
a) things that I'm doing in the days prior to visiting the dentist (lounging around moping, full of anxiety)
b) things that I'm doing in the days after visiting the dentist (which so far seems to be - getting ready to go to university, and that's about it)

I have built it up in my mind for ages, so part of me just wants to go now and hear her say "where have you been all my life?" and the most part of me just never wants to see the dentist ever again for as long as I live. This infernal toothache can go to hell though, so if it's what it takes for me to get a decent night's sleep then I have to put my silly irrational fear to one side and grin (hoho) and bear it. bare it. The only grammatical thing to ever really muddle me about is which bear/bare to use. hmph.


College have finally sent my grades through to Plymouth which has really made me happy, checked my ucas after speaking to Stret and I'm officially on the course now. yowza. This also means I should - hopefully - hear about accommodation very soon. Life isn't too bad, I have all my hair, the right number of arms and a roof over my head so the world continues to turn despite our sorrows.

and it's goodbye from me. xo

corvus monedula, corvus monedula

Sometimes I wish I could dig a huge hole and I would sit right at the bottom of it for days and days and days with just some paper and a pen. I would write and write and write about the things that I hate about the world and the things that I hate about myself and the things that I hate about others and the things that I secretly love but pretend that I hate and I would bind the paper with a red ribbon and shut it in a wooden box and bury the box and then bury myself.

One day in the faraway future, a wooden box would wash up on some foreign shores to be found by someone, by anyone, walking by and thinking about all the things that they hate about the world and about themself and about others. He or she or it or would open the box and untie the ribbon and read every last word of my story and then perhaps, just perhaps, they wouldn't feel so peculiar anymore.

look at his little face.

crow's feet

well here we are then.

this is how I've decided to live my life now, I do have a proper journal that I like to draw and write things in, but sometimes I'm too lazy to pick up a pen and write for ages because typing seems much easier nowadays.

I'm going to try and make this a bit respectable and not like the diary I wrote when I was on holiday 5 years ago and just wrote about how much I loved Mark Hoppus and Brody Dalle and other such things.

I'm tired today, for no decent reason, and uni stuff is stressing me right out.

College were supposedly sending results through today, but I checked my UCAS this morning - no change, rang up Plymouth, - no results and rang college - no real information. Stret has had a right old game with her application today thanks to her P.A Business grade not being filled in (meaning she might not get a place in halls). ugh, ugh, ugh.

I just want to know what the hell is going on, whether I'm in halls and how much flipping money I'm going to get!

It's 5.46pm and here I am sat in my dressing gown. what a life. I can't find my DS charger and I haven't unpacked from the weekend yet, everything will just smell of chlorine and the sea. I am quite a misery guts today, not every post will be like this.

Listened to Modest Mouse in bed, thought about becoming a brilliant baker and opening a coffee shop like Maggie Gyllenhaal's character in Stranger Than Fiction and the laughed along to the new Brand podcast.

auf wiedersehen, xo.