Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Loving the Aarghness!

Right now, I'm here in my pyjamas, feeling very excited...
Too much is going on already! Ha HA! I haven't felt excitement like this for a while. A long while.

Do you know, that there's a Live Aid Sequel approaching? That, at 2pm, Bob Geldof will notify us all about the details, whether Pink Floyd will make an appearance, and end this media drout? I've been searching like mad through the internet for half and hour and I'm starting to get lucky. So far your best bet is to go to the BBC site, where things are constantly updated - http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/music/4594865.stm - here. There's plans for protests and music in some kind of bitttersweet harmony. I know I'll be there, even if I have to fight tooth and nail. I was told recently I could charm a stranger into giving me a million pounds - it's time to put that charisma to the test!

Also, I watched this film about Beethoven. I quite love all music, but this one - Beethoven's second symphony, Eroica - is by far some of the most brilliant music I've ever heard. At one point, I wrote in my diary: "It's like sadness giving you its cloak." And then I felt as exhalted as I did last night. It was a story of war, of love, rejection and life personified in the fluctuations of the violins and the "fleep" of the horns, if that makes sense to you.

See, I was having a fat day - fatal to any person with an eating disorder, yet my family insisted on eating out. So, halfway through I went to the toilet to slash up my thigh but I had cut too deep and I couldn't clean it up in time. So I ended up with my denim jacket covering my jeans for the rest of the night. When I got home I went on my worst ever purging episode. Frankly disgusting. Then, when, er, I was cleaning up the floor I thought to myself how lost I was getting. I mean, i know I need help, but I was - am? - becoming an alien. I was starting to lose myself in the mirror- first I couldn't bear to look at myself, then I was barely there. I called Samaritans, and I actually got somewhere with them - how self involved I am, and how this lead to me almost losing the person I love the most - she er, she OD'd a couple of weeks ago, and er, I can't seem to get through to her. I can't get her to talk. And you, know, I know the world doesn't revolve around me but it feels at points like I'm being punished. I don't know. I just know I'm in a friendship crisis, hopefully resolved this Friday when we see The League of Gentlemen film (which is just disturbing, and I don't know if I'll be able to survive it!) But the problem, my problem is the feeling that I don't exist. That I don't matter. And that therefore I am disgusting, horrid etc etc.

I think I'm starting to fight back. I've fit this round my lifestyle so eloquently it practically is my lifestyle. I'm not sure how I'm going to fix that, not that I realize I think I want it to be fixed. This is early days, you see. But I get it now.

I've also got a script workshop and an interview on Thursday for an internship with the British Museum, but that doesn't matter at the moment. I have to help my friend. I have to help myself. We all need to help ourselves.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

My Heroine

Kelly Holmes is more of a heroine to me everyday. She's black, she's female and she never gave up. She's tough as old boots, she has a sense of humour and she deserved everything she got. Everytime she got out on the field I just admired her for trying and I always wondered why no one else noticed. And when she won, I, with everyone went nuts with happiness for her part, cos she had worked so hard for it. Yet, when she won BBC Sportsperson of the Year you could tell she wasn't comfortable - dresses just aren't her thing and I know she would have looked much better in a trouser suit or something, if only for her slef-belief to shine through.
So, with me being an Olympics TV freak it was natural for me to want her to be happy with life. She's the only role model I've got, if I admit to that.

So, when I found out about her ordeal: http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/athletics/4590655.stm I have to admit I was surprised. All the time I keep seeing strong women going through hell and beyond, but she got through it and I'm so happy she did. It shows strength I'm not sure I have anymore. She's the girl with the Halo (Texas) and she's now even more of a role model than she was before. Strong black women always pull themselves back from the brink. I hope I can do this one day.

However, as I bought the News of the World for the first time ever...you could tell they were plebian idiots the plebians would be ashamed of associating with...it goes on about how she stabbed herself! She cut with scissors - what I first used - not took a knife and plunged it. If that's their way of making things sound 'exciting', then well, I'm very ashamed of the British media right now for dealing with this in such a insensitive way. They didn't even try to advise other people.
I started to think of why I started to ED...


I could blame my Dad - he used to make me eat mars bars as a child because I was malnourished, unbreastfed and he felt guilty. Then he put on several diets, and made a comment "you'd look a lot prettier if you lost some weight" and he always makes little comments and such about how fat and unhealthy I am.
I could blame school - I got teased as the fridge, pregnant etc etc. I was always the chubby kid although I wasn't massively fat until recently.
I could even blame my friends for expecting to be so damn perfect all the time. But I could only blame myself, my perfectionisms, the pressure I pile on myself, the monster I see in the mirror and all. After all, they don't shove their fingers down my throat.

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Another Summer Day

Feeling suitably refreshed...I'm watching cricket, which is the best lazy summer game, I think... you get to wear long sleeves and throw balls around, there's a scheduled lunch break involved and it's so fun...
Makes me want to play cricket. I've only played one real game of cricket and it was crap cos none of the girls knew what they were doing and they were scared of the ball, of course. Actually, that reminds me of all the other games we played...Sport was completely uncool. I hated it for several reasons:

  • My shape is never suited for any type of exercise!
  • Hardly any girls are good at the sport so the only strange pleasure you get is scaring the girls by tackling them and making them do their silly girly screams...
  • The sport was usually stupid crap - like pressups or sit-ups or things to pert up your butt - many a insecurity were manifested in those classes
  • Is the girls do care, you get plowed under the overwhelming confusion and competiveness

Which brings me nicely to rounders. It was kinda like a lower, easier to understand softball but with this large ping-pong bats which would make you think that if don't hit it you've got real problems. Thing was, the girls were so scared of hitting the ball they'd jump out the way and distress the poor P.E teacher (well, no poor - she made me run. I Don't Run. But in primary school I wasn't so bad - one time I beat the fastest boy in a race). You'd spent like half an hour chatting with your friends and then pretending you know everything about the game cos you're screaming this poor girl who hit a good ball to go left, then right, then No! Stop! Stop! and she collapses into a heap on the ground, and we just leave her there - an anomaly.... The sun is hot (it never rains when you play rounders) and no one is paying attention. And then its your go.

You're given this giant ping-pong bat. The bowler is one of the lipgloss bitches and although she really hates your guts, at least she can bowl. Easy...Strike! You didn't even see it coming, and it only gets worse. In the end you just tap the ball and run for your life, everyone is screaming a million different instructions at you and the girls manning the stops keep sticking their feet out - what a test! In the end, you start chatting to the stopgirls and you lose the team points. Everyone hates you, but at least don't have to bat again.

I much prefer doing field. I'm a decent thrower and I can just dissociate with the situation and just throw and catch balls all day. I like throwing round balls, it's my thing really...and I can dissociate with anything. I think it's a reason I'm a decent writer cos I can centre myself away from all sorts of distraction like fires, broken noses, and bruised hearts.

The point of this post? There is no point!! But...I am working on my 100 things about me. Then, I'll be blinking sweetly at CarpeDM so she can fix up my sidebar...watch this space.

Friday, May 27, 2005

A Woman's Place is on the Pitch

I think it's time to celebrate - The Women's Euro cup is going to have coverage on the BBC! Hell, yeah...

Today was a nice hot day and I miss it already. I couldn't see myself revising without clumps of hair being tugged out in desperation, so I went shopping - and by shopping I meant perusing and seeing if Primark is selling longsleeve tops ever. The bus was alright - although everyone was dressed in saris - even the men - it felt very natural and I'm gonna miss it when I move. I bought some socks and goth net tights...

I'd blog some more, but I'm boiling, and I'm gonna go and watch Big Brother and put bets on who's gonna win...

It feels like you may be being shortchanged, so I'll leave you with an old poem of mine - a soppy, "midsummer" poem called You

I remember one day when I too naïve to understand
I was told that my heart must always be mine,
That love makes you blind.
And stupidly all this time I’ve been so independent
-Fiercely keeping my eyes wide open
To avoid crashing in creepy men like walls
And being swallowed by them
Like those green childish monsters
That used to play with my lost homework
Under my bed.
I used to avoid being swept away by those
Dream specimens
I had to block every compliment
They said.

I deluded myself happy and kept my friends
As a brightly patterned blanket,
Tightly wrapped around me,
I looked up at my navy, sequinned rug
I believed my life was truly complete.
No other convention seemed right to me.

You. Yes, the beautiful girl of my dreams
In a wavy haze. You. Right before me.
You make me see and you've helped me breathe

And without you I'd be a riot of disquiet
Ache.
Without you my mind would break.
With you I shall love for love's sake...

Yes, you can stop gagging now, it's over...

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Best Made Plans

My half term?

Well, apart from the revising, on Weds is Ash's b'day and my hair day, the next day I have an interview with some big company to become an intern for one of the big museums next year even though I don't really want to. My life is Kanye West's When It All Falls Down.

[Chorus - 4x]
Oh when it all, it all falls down I'm telling you ohh, it all falls down

[Verse - Kanye West]
Man I promise, she's so self conscious
She has no idea what she's doing in college
That major that she majored in don't make no money
But she won't drop out, her parents will look at her funny
Now, tell me that ain't insecurrre
The concept of school seems so securrre
Sophmore three yearrrs aint picked a careerrr
She like fuck it, I'll just stay down herre and do hair
Cause that's enough money to buy her a few pairs of new Airs
Cause her baby daddy don't really care
She's so precious with the peer pressure
Couldn't afford a car so she named her daughter Alexus (a Lexus)
She had hair so long that it looked like weave
Then she cut it all off now she look like Eve
And she be dealing with some issues that you can't believe
Single black female addicted to retail and well

[Chorus - repeat 2x (w/ Kanye ad-libs)]

I've been planning my gap year, I'm already tired of universities and I just wanna write. When I'm in my exams I have this mad urge to just go 'fuck this' and ran out of the room for-freaking-ever. Or just to make a lot of noise. So why don't I do a business AS, finish my novel and go travelling for a few years? Expectations. I know what I can do when I'm sane. I could go to Oxford, write a good play, make plenty of good friends and just generally make a totally different life for myself than the one I don't mind leading all the time. But, Uni? I've been told I was going there since I was in year 4 and I got a level 6 in my reading, which is mighty high - like SAT level 6, it might have been but god thats my childhood and I'm never sure of anything.

And I guess, that's it, that's my problem right now. It's never good to be unsure about yourself and what your life may ever mean while you're doing bigass exams.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Excellent!

Oh God Liverpool have won! Happy Scousers!!!! 21 Freakin' years...the last time they won, the pope died and Prince Charles got married. You could say it's fate, guv.

Let me be the first blogger to say Congratu-fuckin'-lations!

It's just one thing...well, no

It's been a shitty couple of days but I'm a bit of a high. I've been subject to the new phenomena in my college that is toilet knocking. Basically, you're taking a dump and having an intelligent conversation at the same time. It sounds complicated, but it's not that hard. It's just that I don't like being followed by crazy straight girls whose name I don't remember.

She's really nice, but she's like...buzzing, all the time, and I don't think she's drugged up or anything. For example, just before the first exam where Rich was a little crazier, we went into our respective toilets for a dump. Crazy straight girl must have seen me, for as I was relieving myself I heard a loud voice asking "Betty! Are you here? I saw you come in?" I wanted to keep quiet but then she started knocking on my toilet door, going "Betty, Betty...." So I had to identify myself. It seemed to make her very happy that I would respond to the toilet knocking fad, as I keep seeing her more often.

Anyway, yesterday was crap! Firstly, my Dad was up north making an appointment with the nightwatch so I had to make my own way to college. Suffice to say, I only managed to rouse myself to the rocking tune of Foo Fighters' new tune, Best Of You (tres lovely!) and of course, was very late but that doesn't matter anymore cos of exams, and I finish my AS college career tomorrow!! :)
All I really wanted was a last gasp of revision before I could forget I had ever learnt any English until September, but with practically everybody doing English there was nowhere to go. When I did find somewhere, full of annoying black girls chattering like budgies - some guy just decided to cut the grass outside. It sounded like rabbit heads cut in a swift, mass production line sort of thing and I couldn't concentrate. I didn't stay long. My zen-like state ruined I went towards the library again to see if I oculd wrestle a seat when a though struck me. My friend Rich's house has two bathrooms, and when revising he locks himself into one toilet and he's in there all day. It approached me as I locked myself in the library cubicle, and all of the noise and hubbub died away into something managable. I could concentrate, and i didn't think I'd be disturbed. But no, when stressed all functions of politeness are dissolved in the coffee (one other reason I refuse to drink the stuff) - people were knocking on me, tugging at the locked door, calling me Lola and no matter how much I told them to piss off they wouldn't listen and I only got ten minutes in, but it should be enough.

I was hating people yesterday. Mainly because everyone else was so busy acheiving whatever they wanted, and being happy in their stress because they were so happy. I felt like the poorest woman in London. Also, there were others who were so arrogant - I'm not revising at all! they say. They seem so proud. They believe that if they go the world will stop for them, that heads will turn, memorial days pinned up, barbecue sausages sacrificed in their honour. If a group of people wanted to go somewhere, they were also banging their heads against the wall-literally. I felt like a care worker. I wanted to hug him and just shake him - What the fuck is wrong with you?! I wanted flying feet. I could fly out of the exam hall - it's harder to do any exams, as my botherness is mixed with poison - fear of commitment, love of flying...

But it improved, slightly, in three ways. Firstly, after being reduced to revise the what collocations and lexical grammar (whatever) I bumped into crazy straight girl. I was talking to her about how stressed I was because I'd moan at plant pot at that point and I oculd she wasn't listening at all. Then suddenly she said, "Oh my god I love your boobs they're amazing" and talked in her own vein of how big and gorgeous they were...random. But I needed that to slap me back into action. One of the few people I feel like hugging, not punching right now is Liz but I think she's cutting too. I am so seasoned these days I could reason that they could be two weeks to two months old because of its colour. I have cut too, but it was on my thigh and no one needs to worry about that. Oh, and in creative writing I asked how she liked my dialogue draft and her reply was that I had a gift. I was excited. Was it that good? Reading it over...nope. But I know she likes my work, and I really need to start performing and getting over lisp fears because thats holding me back so so much now...and I'm looking over my novel, which I can finish now because it has a thread and plot - this is the way - the one way English lang lit have helped at all come together as I've imagined my story as a bunch of essay questions and I realise what I'm missing. It makes no sense typed out but its helped me make a plan stuck like shit to a blanket and I feel really confident about my writing right now...

Has anyone heard Amerie's song "One Thing"? Of course you have. I keep tripping up cos I'm hating people...I'm also mad tired. 5 hours sleep a night can do that to a person, but then again pretty much all students are having the same amount of sleep or less and functioning to a large degree...amd I've forgotten all of my meaning. Liverpool are being pummelled in the Champions league final though. Poor scousers.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Blog-0-Versary

Tomorrow, on the 23rd of May will my first Blog-0-versary!! Woo-hoo-oo.

Right now, I'm celebrating by wearing a face mask - raspberry mud thing from Superdrug, a bargai at 99p. I also feel as if I'm experiencing what it'll be like to have botox. It does not make me feel younger, even my birthday is next month, June 5th. I'll be 17....sweetness. I also pledge to never have botox. I will always prefer to grow old disgracefully than growing young hopelessly...

*washed off, skin feels rubbery. Ah well*

I always wonder why I started in the first place. Well, for one thing I'm eternally grateful for, I've met so many inspirational people like Lioness and CarpeDM, got to know my best guy mate, Nik, better. I've read some great stuff from Waiter Rant and Suburban Lesbian, and the Underground one is definitely a laugh.

What I've also learnt is that bloggers are everywhere. You're friends, enemies etc, etc. You could at the end of a crap day at college and then you'll find some kids have got hold of the Underground song on their mobile, and you listen to all the swear words waft through the bus. Your life gets that little bit more interesting because now you have to look at it in a totally different way so that you can report on it. It's all a load of articles on your life, without sounding too pretentious, I hope.

Today, I'm supposed to plan the economic side of me and Ria's gap year in the North of Europe - Iceland, Norway, Finland, Sweden and then maybe some stops in Estonia, Moldova, maybe even a night in Prague cos it's so damn romantic there. It will be a dream. But this dream ain't gonna be cheap. So I'm off to find out...

And hey, if it all goes to plan I'll putting any Swedish I may casually learn to use next year! Yes, I graduate from College next year! Next year I'll be going to college. So you'll understand my arghness when I think about the year 2000. I was 12, for godsakes, I hadn't even done my SATs yet and everyone thought I wasn't a good enough writer. I've spent the last five years proving people wrong. It's probably one of the things I enjoy most in life. Also, I was graced with the Nu-metal bands - Limp Bizkit, Sum 41, Linkin Park, and other bands like The Strokes. Remember them? They were the saviours of rock. They were geniuses, they were nang, they were pioneers, you had to love them. Where are they? Doesn't it freak you out that there was no Coldplay, no Dizzee Rascal to think of six years ago?

See, moments like these, when I'm up all night looking at universities and words I don't understand like economics and seminars and preparing for AS levels, I think of five years ago, when I was afraid I wouldn't be awake the next morning, and liking it, and where I was in love in Eminem and I was perfectly straight and a perfectly good drawer. I was even thinking of sculpting, or was it fashion designing. You gotta love the yesterday.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Happy Silhouettes and an Inner Smile

Today was the beginning of exam season - you'd've thought I'd be a wreck and all, considering I only started revising for the exam yesterday. It was pretty pointless before. I was in some sort of depression I couldn't realise and therefore couldn't shake off. Talking to Ria, I realised it was a Shadow - something so slight I can never notice it, like a comfy cloak, but a self-hating, odious cloak that told I was stupid and ugly and fat and that there was no point in revising. It was strange; the moment I began to speak about it, it had left me immediately. My posture improved by over an inch - which, for a short lass is very uplifting - and the words could get to me. I had finally, after three minutes of hard talking, got back the Botherness.

I revised hard until my head began to hurt, and I knew there was little point revising anything anymore, so I took the opportunity of a cancelled lesson to hang with friends in what I will now call the Cookie Jar - cos you can buy gorgeous, melty cookies. By now, me, my friends and the college have gone mad. It's AS level year - you're thrown into a new building and you're assaulted with this wealth of information you have to get you mind round immediately. There's no time to eat or sleep only to study and socialise (is it with a 's' or 'z' for an english spelling?). By April it starts to set in that we've been eating out of vending machines sleeping an average of 5-7 hours per night. We get stupider. We can't spell the way we used to. And so, we revert to childish behaviour, even if we're acting like 14 year olds because gosh, things were much much easier back then.

So, when Ellie Tall gave us some bubblewrap, you can imagine the fight. It's very soothing! You pop all of those bubbles and you know it's the one thing you know you'll succeed in. Or its just soothing. We discussed collocations, Halliday's taxonomy and the difference between ellipses and ellisions - v. important, since it was our english lit/lang/lit-lang exams. After a bit, Richard came down. He looked very tired. By now I've realised the real life he leads. That he's a little mad, the manic man to my silent and woeful woman. And of course, he hadn't revised. He worse than me - more of a happy nihilist than anything else if you get my meaning, kinda like my motto (of sorts) : Why not? So of course, at the table with everyone else mainly normal, he was making Viking rituals by pouring drops of water on the front page of today metro and soaking up the paper, (god - okon? or something) asking for wisdom. Most of the normals were worried, but I just found it slightly annoying - fine, go crazy; I understand people getting crazier with the ratio of sheer nervouse and unadulterated fear but don't go anywhere near me at exam time. Thats because I'm Zen. Or just bollocking, for I literally don't care. I act as if I've got the A already and I'm just signing the deed. Needless to say the exam was surprising but wasn't bad at all.

I left quite happy. I felt Richard had calmed down even though we were in different buildings and hoped he got his head round the books he only bought a couple of days ago. I felt good because I'm pretty sure I'll get an A in English unless I break down in Desk Study, which isn't too overstated...but also, its the last Shakespeare essay I'll ever have to do. I love his work, I really do, but making me write about him is too dull for words.

With my spoils of success - flapjacks, I started to flip through the prospectuses - Sussex looks promising, but it has too much choice. LSE (London School of Economics) seems like no fun at all, and I only asked for UCL because loads of my college friends are going there and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I couldn't even open the first page. Just from karma alone, I don't think I can go down there. I watched Life Isn't All Ha Ha Hee Hee, which had self-harm, marriage counselling and domestic violence but no support numbers afterwards. It was weird watching the self harm. I wasn't surprised to see it - black and asian families don't speak when they're really down in the dumps and of course, it settles like sediment, solidifies into a rock - a rocky mountain that you can't climb. Self harm is inevitable. But it was quite disturbing watching a comedian and a such a strong woman like Meera Syal do it. (Ground Control to Major Tom playing...I used to hate this song, but I didn't get it before - it means loneliness and nothing at all) but hey, strong women self destruct all the time. I should know: I'm one of them.

At the end of this evening, I watched Dead Ringers, and had my mug shot taken for my passport photo. I was grimly assured I looked horrible in all of them, but I realised I couldn't keep the smile from my face. Dad was being annoying and I was trying to keep a straight face. But the inner smile inside me wouldn't leave. It was heartening, but it made my face seem melty and lop-sided. I think I'll end it there.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Bus Rides

At the moment, I'm taking the bus home instead of three trains because its cheaper for myself since its now taken out of my pocket money. It has its perks - its much easier to take a detour - with trains you could be stuck anywhere.

Anyways, on the way home I had plenty to think about: I needed to finish Memoirs of a Geisha once and for all (I bought the book from Oxfam) which I'm loving...I can't seem to read any fiction at the moment if it has nothing to do with Japan at the moment. As my bus drove past the roundabout I sa this house I've been admiring for a couple of weeks now. It quite big, almost square. What makes it stand out from other houses is the fact its been painted a mellow turquoise, with all of the wood painted white. It reminds me of the French quarter of New Orleans, although I've never actually been there. It's gorgeous! And from the back garden you make out a hint of a 'witchy' garden - like old limestone water fountains, and stringy plants that look like purple willows, with grass that wasn't so perfectly neat. But it was by a roundabout and within a moment it was gone with me left to fill out the rooms, and my massive kitchen...all in my head, of course.

At the back of the bus were these Ex-Cards (Ex Cardinal wiseman) who were talking about the good old days. I looked them straight in the eye and they just hit back with thousand-metre glare. I didn't feel too bad really - I'm way too used to not actually existing to make a big deal out of it. And they carried on about High School, the good ol' days where I never felt wanted, even from the people I knew loved me. But hey, it wasn't all bad...we had some kick-ass History teachers and without Wiseman, how would I ever know about religion, and where would I get the desire to try and change the world as I see fit?

And I then thought about the new college radio station coming up - right now in its baby steps, but as a minion of my mate, Richard who's leader of Drama section, we're getting some great ideas, but if successful the radio will start playing in September, I think. If so, then it will a selfish, a big contrast to last year when I was volunteering for everything. With so much to plan, and having to actually to cater for my needs, it does feel like its easier to do things with nothing expected in return than to actually try to help yourself. The idea may sound laughable, but doing things for others for nothing in return can be a lot of fun. You don't feel as if you're up on display, if you don't like that kind of thing and you always make friends with other like-minded people... and hey, isn't it the year of the volunteer? (www.yearofthevolunteer.org.uk)

Anyways, as I thought of all my busyness - two radio programmes to sort, my first frigging AS exam in two days, writing, and reading. I felt a lot more normal than I have in days, and just better, happier etc. I actually feel capable to save myself from all of the silliness I keep prophesizing about. So I felt a lot...well. Then guess what came on the radio...

David Bowie - Heroes

I
I will be king
And you
You will be queen
Though nothing will
Drive them away
We can beat them
Just for one day
We can be Heroes
Just for one day

And you
You can be mean
And I
I'll drink all the time
'Cause we're lovers
And that is a fact
Yes we're lovers
And that is that

Though nothing
Will keep us together
We could steal time
Just for one day
We can be Heroes
For ever and ever
What d'you say

This is my favourite Bowie song at the moment and it's beautiful I think. Especially when you're trying desperately to get over yourself...I do feel stronger today. xx

Monday, May 16, 2005

Why is it three days to my exams??!?!

My nose is being pinched with cold, and I can't even bother to smell. I don't know how to revise Shakespeare - do you just read it and hope wondrous things will happen?

When I'm older, I'd love to be a journalist, but despite everything I still don't have the goods. I'm too nervous of breaking equipment or making an arse of myself. Therefore, I think I'm turning to radio - apart from a mini-disk player it seems hard to break anything. Even so, I'm now involved in a satirical radio programme called "The White Supremacist Hour" - its my friend's idea, and I'm in it as Ethics manager and to just try to make it funny...

I really really really really really really really really should be revising, but I can't bring myself to do it. We did Much Ado, and when I hear my Aunty talks about all of the Shakespear she read, I feel cheated since it's probably the last play I'll ever read and really analyse for thats the only way I can appreciate his work.

Darn.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

A Religious Meme

You scored as agnosticism. You are an agnostic. Though it is generally taken that agnostics neither believe nor disbelieve in God, it is possible to be a theist or atheist in addition to an agnostic. Agnostics don't believe it is possible to prove the existence of God (nor lack thereof).
Agnosticism is a philosophy that God's existence cannot be proven. Some say it is possible to be agnostic and follow a religion; however, one cannot be a devout believer if he or she does not truly believe.

agnosticism

88%

atheism

75%

Buddhism

75%

Satanism

67%

Paganism

54%

Islam

50%

Judaism

46%

Hinduism

21%

Christianity

13%

Which religion is the right one for you? (new version)
created with QuizFarm.com

Longitude

At first, I couldn't get out of bed and Dad was actually nasty to me for the first time in well, ever. I don't know how to stop him hating me - after all, I've been pushing him and pushing him, and this is what I deserve to get, right? So, instead of trying to figure out my life before I start more of the biggest conversations of my life, I stewed my bras in boiling water and Persil - to clean them, don't worry - and I needed a meaningful distraction.

So, I decided to read Waiter Rant (addictive) - cos, well he's Mr Prozac and with his serious and funny posts I get a perspective on NY life which I won't know about until I save up money to visit there sometime. Anyways, I was delving into his archives and found a post called "Leftovers" which just got to me for some reason. Maybe because outside of the tight circle of self-hating bloggers and the communities on Livejournal, 'bulumia' and 'cutters' is a taboo word. From the depth of silence that comes down when I mention in passing it outside of the circle, it's as if it's everyone's dirty little secret.

So, I thought about telling you about myself. I didn't think it was important. After all, who am I in the first place, and what does anyone else care? I guess it has to do with all the well, fuck-upity-ness of myself: Black, gay, cutter, bulumic, short, fat, female, intelligent, atheist... I'm sure I could killed, bullied, maimed and hated in regions all over the world, but that doesn't really matter to me, because I have people who love me - for now - and thats the most important thing for me really. I also have the sublety of a brick through your window - I have been known for calling my friend 'bitches' as a term for endearment, and when I want to, I can say 'NO' very easily.

But I guess why I bother telling you about myself is that firstly, a black lesbian can gorge on the amount of positive discrimination policies out there, and she can make a life for herself as her own person - be it Betty Browne, the potential genius, or as the multi-billionaire of her own company, the successful journalist, or... What if I told you I was one of those sad girls, who cuts herself AND has an eating disorder?

I figure on here, that is what my life is about: trying to explain myself, trying to excuse myself, and trying to get better. Right now, I'm trying to excuse myself. Here's a bit from the comment I left on Leftovers:

"Its not just because I see pictures of beautiful, tall flat-stomach people and I want to cry, but pressure - from your Dad, your family, youth workers, psychiatrists, doctors. Seriously - you could come up to them covered in blood and vomit and the first thing they'll do is weigh you. Actually, I think I'll put that in my blog...The truth is, the media fucks up a lot of people, but I guess throughout the ages the projected image of perfection has been tormenting some group of people throughout time..."

Anyway, I have to be off. It's my aunty's birthday and I have to revise before depression takes full hold of me...

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Choose Life

I am physically incapable of revising. I won the 25th annual College poetry competition - £15 of book vouchers. My dad is having whisky for dinner and I'm wondering why I'm not as much of an alcoholic as I could be. I haven't cut for about four weeks. I think. When I'm not disciplining myself (self-harming) the period between when I rise above it and when I just...give up are not so far apart but I want it so much that the time in between stretches until I cannot recognise dates or times and suddenly its tonight and I know it. Well, not neccessarily. But I'm not sure. I mean, if I just get on with it, then I know I would feel better, and I would sleep more and I wouldn't be on the brink of tears all of the time. Surely thats much better than anything else?

I hanged with Rich and Alex today. We amassed food, of which I hardly had any and we talked about this new radio project we're doing together. Should be fun, really. After Alex rushed off to his English lesson we hanged out for a little while I had the last of the orange juice (I've been eating/drinking apples and oranges whenever I can. And apart from my cereal addiction, I'm eating very little. It was much easier to get out dinner than usual, so I'm treating myself with hot chocolate, and some rum.

As I say, I'm feeling pretty depressed at the moment, and I wish it would change. I try to tell myself its not true that disciplining will make myself better when I cannot rise out of bed, when I cannot chat idly, when my memory is slipping as well as my grades (I'm getting the C's for the first time in months!) and my mind just gets darker and dummer, how can I go on further? And yet when I expect myself to cut, when I start to imagine all of my misery lifting off me, along with the fat and the ugliness - oh god, the ugliness, and I can move, I can chat like a true Gemini. It's all easier. Why can't I have it easier, with a little bit of pain. Why is cutting so bad? What the hell is everyone's problem? I don't think I can function without it. I'm too fargone, just too damn pathetic.

I think I'm enjoying it, all of this hatred. I couldn't articulate it - you know, a sleeping frog in your throat. I was talking with Richard, talking about the EU, and somehow we got onto the Samaritans. I'm not sure whether we said this purposely, but we started talking about whethere there's a fee to use it cos he had used his mobile, and I told them that I asked them once when I called and so on. It kind of makes you realise that Samaritans help everyone.

I think I've finally deduced that his mother died a few years ago. He never talks about it. I want to hug him so bad, for so many other things he's done thats been so helpful to me. I just felt at ease to tell him about my craziness when I was 12, I'm not so sure why - maybe because he told me first that he went crazy when he was 12 - it felt nice to be trusted like that. You tend to find that when you're calling or texting one of your best friends cos you just can't stand it anymore and you're gonna slit your throat if you don't talk soon. You expect some kind of life-altering speech to come out of you, and your friend will respond with something perfect and you can just deliberate over it for ages. But just admitting that you feel crap, and having your friend saying that they're there that they're around and that they won't go anywhere because god forbid, you're loved. Well, that's better than any therapist. That's why I gave 'em up...I just gulped down a big glass of whisky...hangover tomorrow and no Spongebob Squarepants to bring me back to reality. I guess thats enough. Sorry.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

I Hate MTV

I came home after a day of sheer panic (my first exam is only 9 normal days away!) and decided to try and calm the mind through the numbing process of channel-hopping. It was especially exciting today as they had switched round all of the channels. Music-channel rodeo, wahey!

Anyway, at 7pm an obscure program came up on MTV about the European sex slave trade. MTV Europe had started this thing called Exit where celebrities turn serious and talk about the horrors of the sex trade. Anyway, this one had some model called Heidi something (Not Klum) and had about four + stories about how women were tricked into the slave trade and how it's fucked them all up. How you could meet a pimp who would sell you off from a blind date, a "modelling contract", a boyfriend you've had for a while... It wasn't actually real, from what I could tell; the description of the show wasn't fully clear. Anyways, after each story Heidi Something would interject that "An EXIT plan is needed here." Again and again. I guess it gets the message across, but I was hoping for something more substantial, especially from a cultural giant such as MTV, but there was nothing. Each story, the same message, and I sank further into my seat. In the end, she said that some of your friends could be having sex with victims of the sex slave trade and this needs to change desperately. Then the programme ended in a blaze of music. Strange. The wasn't advertised and as far as I know there's only been two programmes of this kind, and it hadn't been informative at all.

But what made me angry was the fact it was followed by a TRIPLE bill of Hip Hop Honeys, a reality TV show were women strip off for the chance to make money out of (mostly) deluded men. I found it actually offensive. What chance do we have opposing the sex slave trade when the channel trying to oppose this retaliates against itself by showing off the glamourous side of quasi-prostitution, adding to this 'perfection' of slim bodies, with women most men or women can never gain access to, so wouldn't that drive them to use the trade, and help drive it on, feed it? It's mind-boggling.

Sex trade is serious fuck-uppity. Women are raped, beaten into submission, made to pay back debts that they'll never pay back. I'm afraid I don't know much about this. Face it, it's important: it concerns all of us before the possible victims could be over half of us. It's the tyranny of the minority. But then, men attack men, women cheat women and men, and everyone seems to make money out of this...well, apart from the prostitute. I'm a member of Amnesty International at my college, and I'm supposed to lead the Anti-violence against women campaign in my group, but I'm still scratching for ideas. Right now, I can't think of anything since tomorrow I have my first poetry reading, college ends in three weeks and I'm moving house (should!) in five weeks, then Barcelona, A2s and summer with all of those happenings. I simply won't have the time, but I feel guilty about it anyways...here's the site if you want to get involved. I'm sure Amnesty won't mind...http://web.amnesty.org/actforwomen/index-eng

Go for it.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Don't Steal Our Sun...till the tide creeps in

Funny that.

I woke up today the most pissed off middle-aged teenager in London this morning. Not sure why...I do keep overeating, but the stress keeps my weight down. It's all very fucked up!

My Dad's been cheap this week so I've been using the bus, trying not to fall asleep on it and coming in late all week. Today was no exeception. I spent the whole day in my pessimistic Cannae-be-bothered dementia. On Fridays I hang with Clare and Hollie and they're so into each other (platonically) I don't even get a look in. How could I - they're always whispering to each other and talk down to each other, but other than that they're lovely. The day has been dead sunny, nice. By then I was dying inside. Again. I felt so pernicious and childish. You would too after punching a bus stop post for ten minutes. Oh.

Then I was saved by Simon. He's my history teacher. Terribly biased *left wing/socialist* but he's really cool. He's gossipy, funny, and even though he goes off on tangents and gets foot-in-mouth disease and does truly terrible jokes, he reminds me why I haven't punched my politics teacher - also called Simon - in the face (V. violent today, isn't it?) Anyways, he made revising for the Poor Law (workhouses and such in the 19th Century) which is in itself a big achievement. Then he finally described Socialism, which no one really knew what it was, apart from Watered-down Communism which drives our history teachers potty. Anyways, in turn he explained Capitalism. I loved this because I always felt people had this strange power over me. Well, really the only power have any anybody have over people is strength, the pen and especially the power of speech - by that it could be by issuing a fatwa or dumping somebody, or telling someone that kitkat will cost 36 pence, and I hated people's words going over my head and leaving me fighting the urge to nod my head like idiot fake out who didn't want to care. So it got me interested in how the world works all over again which is great cos everything else seems to leave me cold, but I know why that is. So...do you wanna know what Capitalism is?

Okay, right, Capitalism...this could go wrong...
Say, Mr Spock decided to create a jam jar factory, and he paid his workers £20 a day, and paid himself £45 a day. However, the whole business is based on invisible socio-economic factors which determines the demand, and therefore the price. The employers, Mr Spock and his jam jars are all (together, and individually) the value at which the market determines they are. If the glass for the jam jars are expensive he'll have to shell out for it at whatever price he can get it, and the wages of the workers could change with the price determined by the market. Mr Spock may not pay them entirely what they're due, but it's enough to prevent rebellion and allows them to become consumers, and keep the economy going and make sure he always gets some revenue. If glass is cheap, he has more power, doesn't he?

And that, apparentely, is Capitalism. Please remember that I may be completely wrong. Tell me ImMediaTely if I'm wrong, so I fix this.

Oh, and Socialism? It's based on the idea that whatever you put into society you get based. It's like Commission based pay/happiness based on effort. You could also call it Karma Revenge.

Whats supposed to happen is that gradually the government gets involved in affairs, nationalising (taking control) of industries, until eventually pay is fixed, and no one is at the mercy of the market or the economy. I beg to differ. It'd mean we'd all have to agree, and thats just not human nature. It's a nice idea though.

The sun is gone, and May has returned, and there's not much I can do about it. But I can make the house look nice. My pocket money depends on it. (its a new development.)

Oh, and has things gone weird for you? For one thing, the internet seems to think it's my birthday - I've had cards from Xfm (which was really nice) and from RYL who realised they messed up...also, wherever I went, on the buses, the Oyster thingy on the buses didn't work. Is this a conspiracy? What's Mr Livingstone up to...

Yeah, I'm alright.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Every Minute is Another Chance to Turn it All Around

I'll make this snappy (if possible) since today is my dad's Birthday! I love you, Daddy although you never will read this blog...and haven't called you Daddy since you were six.

Elections, elections, elections - and no one's voting. Or considering the 'horror' of Lib Dems. No one seems to know whats going on. And I haven't seen one politician kiss a baby. Presposterous. This is the Liberal's Democrats chance to turn Britain round - into a better or blighted place, I'm not sure - yet Charles Kennedy can't get it up. Even proof of his humanity and his fertility doesn't seem to get us all excited for election tango. It's electile dysfunction, I say...

Apart from that, I've just a three day weekend. It was ok. I was just ignoring homework beckoning, teasing, like a drill trying to enter my brain. My mum came down and reminded me that my first exam was just over two weeks away, causing us both to panic - she's doing her Nursing Diploma and has an exam on the same day. To keep our minds off it, we and my bro went down to Covent Garden to just walk around, which is very hard to do when you're in Covent Garden with older eyes, cynical and dispossessed. There were all these cool antique books at the market...and this poor street performer who I forget his name was: he was great - swore a lot, did lots of gay innuendo. Then he managed to strip to his red leather thong, mount a 6ft tall skin head, and juggles knives and working chainsaws to the bemusement of the audience. He was cool.

....****.....******.......

(Drifted off, went to sleep, had a panic attack)

Anyway, its the next day. I had to wake up early, write a history and politics essay, because my family came over to celebrate and they're always loud. I'm not sure why I had the panic attack. I was finishing off this pack of bourbon biscuits in bed and suddenly I thought to myself I was getting fatter with every breath I took, so I tried to stop, but then I panicked and couldn't hold my breath for long then I would see shadows jump at me and I would be so terrified I'd have to breathe and I'd hate it cos i thought I was going to break the bed with my weight and I didn't want to ruin Dad's birthday with the knowledge his daughter was stark raving mad. So I tried to take a deep breath, failed, panicked, called Samaritans, when my chest began to hurt and I began to cry. Took me about half an hour to convince myself I could get up in the morning, and my chest still hurt when I got to sleep. So right now I have that achey tiredness where you're yawing for Britain and your limbs feel as if they've been battered to a purple pulp. But I'll be ok...this day is dead boring anyway!

Sunday, May 01, 2005

Think Tank

In my haze of uncaring-ness, I've decided to quit Oxfam Music. It's going to be my last week next Saturday, after 10 months of volunteering there. I've really enjoyed it. I've enjoyed the half-dreaming, half-efficiency atmosphere you have when you hear the trill of the till. I enjoyed handling all of that money, and watching it grow in the till, for it shows that some extra is going to people who really need it. Most of all I loved getting grips with new stock and procedures before anyone else (Case in point: Grabbing Razorlight's Up All Night for £2.99), the freedom of playing whatever you could find that people had donated. Yeah, I'm gonna miss it. But my life has changed. For one thing, its so much busier these days. With Children's Express my favourite member of staff has left, and is off to Cannes (random, radical and well cool - argh, so chav). ....Just went off a bit. Just spent twenty minutes searching for my blog. Short of actually typing out the URL for it, I couldn't find it. How annoying. Never mind.

So...my day of thinking, it's not going so well. I just don't care. There isn't the unmistakable pull of creativity or thought. Then again, it may have neutralized by my Dad's naggings: "It's 5:30 - what are you having for dinner?" He is my diet's diatribe and a good reason for why I got so out of control in my the first place, if I ever dared blame anyone for my depression and self harm and quasi-eating-disorder, which I don't. For a few weeks I was barely eating and enjoying it. Dad stopped all that and then some. Every thing I eat has to be analysed, calorie-counted and verified by the big man himself until I dare to eat it. God Forbid I try to skip dinner, or eat too much. I've been shimmied into this diet I've been hating. I eat dinner and I feel as if I've been betraying myself, see. If I keep eating I'm going to explode, I'm going to explode. In auto-pilot the rest of my brain plans the later night. You could see why I'm being hostile towards Dad, no matter how obviously unconscious it is. I think its because he keeps grabbing my arm and won't let go. That sounds sinister doesn't it? - but he wouldn't hurt me in a million years, cos he loves me. He's my Dad, for god's sakes...it just doesn't make sense to me.

Sometimes I think about impending university and gap year and I worry for Dad cos I'll be leaving him and for the most part he'll be on his own cos he refuses to get married or committed. All I want is some stability. The animosity between my brother and my Dad is growing. All they do is argue, and my bro is convinced that doesn't love him enough etc etc. And all I do is fulfill the housewife duty - clean, sweep, cook, nag. I just want to sleep in. Unfortunately Plan B: Sleep till August was almost improbable, so I have to perfect my glazed interested look. Still not working...
Before the internet cuts, I'll tell you how I'm feeling, and why I always fail in the end...

Razorlight - Up All Night

I lost the sacred feeling but I
Made a couple of friends and now
Our things have never looked so good
Our things have never been so clear
And now I'm alone with you
I'm always up all night
And I get music running in my head
And I, I lose the strength to fight

Cause I, I've been up all night
She's been up all night
We're, we're just up all night

This town is for the counterfeit dreamers
And maybe I'm one too, well I
I keep my hand behind my back when I
I don't know what else to do
The streets that I grew up in, they might mean
Nothing to you, but I
I'll show you where I come from if you please
Just tell me what I'm supposed to do

Cause I, I've been up all night
She's been up all night
We're, we're just up all night

That sweet and sacred feeling you know
Will never last long
Every time you turn around you'll see
One more part of you, yes it's gone
I need your spirit darling
And lend me your helping hand, and I
I'll meet you in the morning
When I've broken up the band

Cause I've been up all night
She's been up all night
We're, we're just up all night
And I've been up all night
She's been up all night
We're, we're just up all night
I've been up all night...

All I need is a good sleep. I can't help but romanticize the belief that it's the only way things could sort itself out. But Plan B is outta whack...that sucks, that sucks.