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04/01 Direct Link
I watched you walking away into the chemists, knowing I would not see you again for another week and a half.

Actually, I did not watch you walk away. That was the problem. I think we were both too preoccupied with thinking about how awesome the free hugs we had just received were. They were good hugs. As you said "..." No, that's the problem, I don't remember what you said. I do remember that you told me it had "restored your faith in humanity". I just liked their fleecy jumpers.
 
I miss you now. I'm always doing this.
04/02 Direct Link

“Can you lie next to her and give her your heart?” Mumford and Sons, White Blank Page

The soft rising and falling of her pale chest brings tears to his eyes. A caged bird, soft and delicate, fragile even. So fragile; twenty two years of hurt and pain contained in this perfect silhouette. And yet she loves him; him, the one who has hurt her so, the one who cannot quite bring himself to tell her the full truth. But no more, he whispers, as he picks up the tattered brown suitcase, closing the door gently behind him. No more.

04/03 Direct Link

“Happiness hit her, like a train on a track” Florence + the Machine, Dog Days are Over

Happiness really did hit her like a train on a track; like the tap had been on too long. Seeping out of her every pore, infecting everything she did, conquering everything and everyone until there was just one big mushroom-cloud of happiness. She wanted to scream from the top of every roof in the city, in the country, in the world. It clung to her, this happiness, all-consuming; until the bubble broke, and she hit the earth with the soft thud of reality.

04/04 Direct Link
Quoting 'Mock The Week'

Frankie Boyle: “Could I also point out David (Mitchell), nothing matters? We are essentially all just highly evolved monkeys clinging to a rock that’s falling through space, and the rock itself is dying...”

Awkward silence

Dara O'Brien: “Roll on world cup...”

Well said. Enjoy your month.


There isn't much else to say, and it turns out that the word counter cannot be tricked with dots anymore. Technically, I'm a day behind, since it's 1:04 in the morning, so I've broken my promise to myself to write everyday. However, 100words haven't registered that it's tomorrow. :)
04/05 Direct Link

Seventeen Best Things

1.       A good sandwich

2.       Old people holding hands

3.       Young couples kissing in the streets of Paris

4.       An unexpected smile

5.       Hearing strangers’ life stories

6.       The crinkle of the first page of a new book as it is turned over

7.       Discovering a beautiful song

8.       The sound of torrential rain on your umbrella

9.       An unexpected sunset

10.   Second hand bookshops

11.   New places

12.   New people

13.   Watching the milkmen preparing the milk for the morning

14.   Star gazing

15.   Moon gazing

16.   Rediscovering a lost friend

17.   Rediscovering a forgotten place

04/06 Direct Link

I love walking at night. The darkness shrouds everything in an enchanting mystery. Trudging along the near deserted streets, accompanied only by the dull, rhythmic thuds of our feet, the darkness, the simplicity of what we are doing humbles us. We're equal. The most coveted celebrity is indistinguishable from the poorest soul, just a solitary figure under the street lamps. Reading the Observer 'Walk Yourself Fit' booklet I discovered Alexei Sayle shares my views on this. Apparently, Rousseau, a philosopher whose ideas were crucial during the French Revolution, wrote 'Reveries of the Solitary Walker' just from his thoughts whilst walking.

04/07 Direct Link

Talking about life after death the other day in life-skills, someone said there must be an afterlife otherwise there'd be no point to life. What meaning does an afterlife give your life? What would an afterlife give you that you couldn’t get from life? “But someone needs to help the poor!” (ie. God) Why can’t we help the poor? That would give your life a point. “But this can’t be all there is, otherwise life’s a ****ing joke mate!”

Are we so egotistical that we think we deserve an afterlife? Let’s face it; we’re nothing more than highly evolved animals.

04/08 Direct Link

Names. An identity tag; your label. John Smith, James Lewis, Susan Jones. Two short words sum up a whole existence, a whole life of achievements, failures... The Red Indians' system of naming by personality, names changing with age, was so much more personal. My name seems surreal to me, detached; just words on a page, vaguely recognisable. It belongs to me, yet I would throw it away with no hesitation. I hate it. It pins you down, marks you; you are no longer a free, drifting spirit, but an object in a sea of objects; a mark on a page.

04/09 Direct Link

I wish book reviews came with recommendations of music to accompany the books. This occurred to me whilst reading Steve Toltz’s ‘A Fraction of the Whole’, and listening to The Smiths (as usual), and they went exceptionally well together. I feel that, unless this has been done already, there is a gap in the market for this, which potentially could make millions. Or at least a few quid. I would make a blog, only my musical tastes are no way broad enough for this immense challenge. Also, I am lazy, and use lack of time as an excuse to myself.

04/10 Direct Link

"Come and open up your folding chair next to me" Regina Spektor, Folding Chair
 
I wish a stranger would sit next to me and tell me their life story. It rarely happens with the constant fear of paedophiles and murderers. So far, I’ve had a slightly senile, but nonetheless sweet old man tell me how much he hates that noone in England is any good at sports; and a sweet old lady telling us about her dog's eating habits and an American friend they used to call 'yankiedoodle'. My boyfriend’s lucky; he gets this all the time. Apparently he 'has a face people can trust'.

04/11 Direct Link
Do you have to be depressed to write well? Not depressed, but I have to admit it has been much harder this month. The other day I had to make a wish on a fallen eyelash, only I couldn't think of anything to wish for. It wasn't that there was nothing to wish for, but there was nothing to wish for that wouldn't upset anything else; everything seems in perfect balance at the moment. In the end I wished for A*s in all my GCSEs. It isn't going to happen now, but lets face it, it had no chance anyway.
04/12 Direct Link

Torrential rain is beautiful. It reminds me of the wrath of the Greek Gods* in mythology. Sunny weather is nice, but it's a bit lame compared to the awesome power of the rain. If it's raining hard enough we get a little stream running down our drive. When the rain hits the road, the splashes get higher and higher until they are about 10cm off the tarmac. That's the best bit.

*I spell Gods with a capital G, because I don't see why Zeus should be treated as inferior to the Christian God. Apparently it's because they have multiple Gods?

04/13 Direct Link

"God help the girl; she needs all the help she can get" God Help the Girl

The porcelain floor feels cold under her feet, like the smooth, grey stones scattered across the beaches of her childhood. She is waiting. What she is waiting for she cannot say. She is just waiting; waiting for anything, anything to interrupt the dull ache filling her tiny body. As the woman behind the cheap, plastic desk calls her name, she continues to sit motionless, until the men in their ivory capes, like a pair of circling gulls, come to lift her from her stupor.

04/14 Direct Link

We have ruined our earth (face it, we have). Look around, it's ugly; concrete, sprawling, dirty. We have coated our earth in humanness, and I hate it. This wonderful energy of nature, the green trees and bright flowers, is being slowly strangled. Personally, I'd take us back to the stone ages. We could hunt cows and sheep (which wouldn't be hard - the lazy buggers) and have mass demolishing celebrations where we destroy all remnants of our industrial past. Motorways are the worst. They are like big conveyor belts of people; we are just the sausages in the sausage factory. 

04/15 Direct Link

I must write some more. I must fill up this day with something. I will write about my love of cows.

I love cows. The black and white cows are the best. They are so wonderfully deadpan. Their moos say "I couldn't care less about politics and literature. I just want more grass." This is such an honest thing to moo. They are not embarrassed to munch their grass in front of you. They don't care that people find them boring. Yes, cows are just themselves. They will trample you if you touch their young, though (cows are caring parents).

04/16 Direct Link
Whoever makes children's TV these days are idiots. I cannot see any self respecting child wanting to sit around watching some strange cheap-imitation of the teletubbies with strange puppets running around jangling bells and singing about flowers. In the good old nineties, we had old ladies showing us how soap was made whilst their dogs ran around looking cute. Once, she went to a china factory. It was wild. No, children's TV these days is simply not what it used to be. As a result, my children will watch Shakespeare, with occasional Dickens films. I may even find vintage 'Playdays'.
04/17 Direct Link
How do I describe this feeling? It's like the land around me has turned to water, and I'm slowly sinking. I thought I'd been wrong; I thought we'd been wrong. But we hadn't, not really. Nothing has changed; we have simply swapped roles. The same insecurities played out on a different stage. The bully is now the victim; the heroes are now the villains, or so I am told. I feel like Bridget Jones when she describes how everyone is just going to turn around and say "Bridget Jones, you are ridiculous. Leave." I've watched that film too many times. 
04/18 Direct Link

How did I miss all of this? The string of life lies tangled. Are these people really my friends? Are they really friends themselves? I am told not, it is a front. People I thought were loved are hated; people I thought were hated are loved. I feel that old tingle of self-awareness and self-consciousness creeping up on me. It seems so much simpler as words on a page; maybe that is why people keep diaries. I could leave all this behind; move to a completely new place with completely new people. But could I really leave it all behind?

04/19 Direct Link

"Throw your homework onto the fire; come out and find the one that you love and who loves you." The Smiths, Sheila Take a Bow

I am sorely tempted to throw my homework onto the fire, however that would mean failing GCSE art and having therefore wasted my whole Easter holidays; neither of which seems a pleasant option. Also, I have no fire. 

Anyway, 'the one that I love and who loves me' is currently revising for his Psychology mock. Never mind, at least I can draw him, and he can analyse me whilst I draw, and teach me Freud. 

04/20 Direct Link

The wind outside is near hurricane strength. Birds are being made to travel unnaturally fast. I can sense their fear. The tree outside claws my window like Freddy Krueger. I want something dramatic to happen. I am waiting for the tree to snap in half. There was a power cut the other day, but I was already in bed. This was sad because I love power cuts, they feel very Victorian and therefore romantic. I’ve decided that history has an air of romance to it. This being-in-bed seemed ironic too, since I chose to go to bed early that day.

04/21 Direct Link

Three moments in the last year:

1. Sitting on the swing in the dark at our friend’s summer party, watching you through the glass, anticipating the moment you’d pass by me and I would say something witty. I believe I asked you if you knew any constellations, which made you jump, at which point I believe you told me you couldn’t care less about constellations.

2. Watching you teaching a friend’s little brother the guitar, and, admittedly, swooning a little.

3. Seeing you in a bookshop (thinking ‘Oh my God its him’ and then remembering I came in with you.)

04/22 Direct Link
It would be nice if someone gave me just one extra day (off calender) to catch up on life. I am behind on my 100 words, I have realised I have totally neglected my English Lit revision in favour of History, despite the fact that by Lit exam is in 3 weeks today (moreover, I now know the exam comprised 70% of the total mark and not the 40% I thought) blah blah blah. I didn't even have the energy to finish that sentence, never mind reread it to see if it makes sense. Urgh, it never stops does it?
04/23 Direct Link

Why does everything have to be about proving we are better than everybody else?

Why does everything have to be a competition?

Why do we have to try to make others feel inferior to make ourselves feel superior?

Why do we have to be superior?

Why do we have to be ashamed to just put our hands up and say, “Do you know what? I don’t know the answer?”

Why do we have to have an opinion on everything?

Why do we have to judge those with a different opinion to us?

Why does everything have to be so complicated?

04/24 Direct Link

 “There’s a little bit of you in everyone” Kings of Convenience, Me in You

Every time she looks in the mirror she sees the shadow of him; a year since it happened, and there hasn’t been a day since when she has not thought of him. She sees his face in every passer-by. In the first few weeks she’d be so sure she’d seen him, walking up to the person, her lips parting, mouth opening, and then falling shut when she realised her mistake. She feels his presence in every conversation, finding little traces of him in everyone she meets.

Until today.

04/25 Direct Link

The first thing that would happen if it never stopped raining, is that as the grass on peoples lawns would get really really long, because no one could cut it, as their lawn mowers would keep exploding in the rain. Then of course (actually, this would probably happen first) everywhere would become totally flooded, and we would all take up residence in quaint little wooden boats. It would be very good for the water-transportation economy. I'm not sure what boat I would get; probably a nice wooden sail-boat. I'd have to think about names. I think it would be fun.

04/26 Direct Link

She sits across the room in one of those ugly, brown plastic chairs. So little effort has been made to disguise the hall it’s embarrassing. He swallows. Taking a gulp of lukewarm squash, he feels her gaze burning into him. He was too shy to ask anyone tonight, and so stands alone in the streamer-laden hall, watching her; her soft brown hair neatly tucked behind her delicate shoulders. She sits alone, yet he cannot bring himself to ask. She wishes he’d talk to her, just once, as he watches him draw himself back into the crowd of couples entwined in ignorant bliss.

04/27 Direct Link

I cried on my first day of school. Being a noisy child, I’d drowned out the sound of the girl the teacher was trying to read to, and dealt badly being told off.

I loved that teacher. When learning about 'ch' sounds, she brought in food beginning with 'ch'. I hated cheese, so hid in the toilet when it was brought out. Everyone knew I was in the toilet, but when I came out they'd finished the chocolate. Seeing I was upset, that easter I was called into the staff room and told to look behind the bunny, and there, sat a little piece of foil-wrapped chocolate.

04/28 Direct Link

Certain CDs are intricately linked with memories. The first CD I ever bought was ‘Insomniac’ by Green Day. It takes me straight back to year 5, buying it to impress the guy who was in love with my best friend. Green Day’s ‘Waiting’ takes me straight back to the first time I went to summer camp; speeding through lavender fields, buzzing with new-found freedom; whilst The Feeling’s ‘Twelve Stops and Home’ takes me back to French exchange; and the Kaiser Chiefs’ ‘Yours Truly, Angry Mob’ takes me back to the first (and only) time I let my heart be broken.

04/29 Direct Link

We saw some pretty strange messages on the back of the Cambridge station toilet door today. They were on a suicidal theme, with lots of unhappy teenagers writing about how much they wanted to kill themselves. Then there were some nice recovered suicidals writing encouraging messages to the suicidals, saying things like 'Don't worry, I used to get that too. Hang in there.' It's nice to know people care. Unfortunately, the original suicidals wrote back saying that it wasn't getting any better.

The whole incident was rather sad, but then I went off to my first gig, which was awesome.

04/30 Direct Link

I love watching couples together; imagining how they met, what they do together, how long they’ve been together, how long they will be together. I like seeing the cute little ways they display their affection for each other.

My favourite couple are two years younger than me, and adorable. They are always kissing outside the music block, holding hands in corridors, and just generally being adorable. Recently, I started seeing the girl alone, and this worried me. I hoped it was just the ash cloud that had left him stranded somewhere in the other side of the atlantic. It was.