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I have lots of plans for the coming year but whether they come into fruition or not, we'll have to wait and see... It's going to be busy enough without extra activities but hey, life is about living and I'll be damned if I'm going to sit on my arse for another year and not do anything. It's going to be a mix of exams, travelling and celebrating.
So far life has got better each year, so I'm expecting great things - it's going to be hard to beat 2010. I'm really hoping it can be beaten. Well, here we go...
I wish I had a proper teacher - someone to correct me when I'm wrong and tell me what I'm doing right, if anything at all. I started off with russian but now I'm slightly bored, I want to do something else now, not just carry on.
So I started learning japanese which is actually fairly easy, at least as far as languages go once you get past the alphabet.
But now I've just been told that I need stop and restart russian, or it'll go away. Take one lesson out a week in order to motivate me. So it looks like other things are on standby for a while as I just sit here, and smile.
I can't wait for the sun to shine again,
I'm tired of being forced to stay in
Amongst the cradle of bricks that saves
Us from the cold and staves
Away the snow, piled against our doors,
Which we used to adore
It's fine when it's fluffy
And you have a coat that's all puffy
But it's not when freezes after it's fallen
And though in maytime, I'll probably hate the pollen
With swollen eyes
I'll look up at the sky
And declare how much I cherish it:
Being able to go outside and sit
In the sun, at any time in spring.
I need the sun and the warmth it brings.
Some people are prepared! I've already been invited to an after party, 6 months in advance... I'll probably go, it sounds like a good laugh. Though you can bet I'll be the only sober one there... I don't know why, I just don't like the taste of alchol. Blegh. And I don't like the look/sound of being out of control of my actions and not myself, having been in the company of a few drunk friends in my time. At least that coupled with my hate of needles means i'll never become a heroin addict - so that's all good!
I had one of the best nights sleeps of my life yesterday, and I think all the thanks have to go to Pink Floyd. I was tired at about 8 o'clock so I went upstairs, plugged in my phone and started listening to the album I had just downloaded (LEGALLY) off the internet, via youtube converters, called 'Meddle', which just happens to be one of the most epic things ever to reverberate in my ear. I also learnt the real meaning of psychaldelic rock, whether it was because I was tired or not, I just lay there, eyes closed, nodding.
My brother's writing skills are leading me to doubt his nationality - he doesn't sound English at all. It's almost painful to read his essays (written in size 36 font, so it looks like he's done more) peppered with numerous simple spelling and grammar mistakes (he doesn't seem to have heard of commas or spell check). He's never enjoyed writing and reading as much as I have, but some of the expressions he uses makes it sound like it's been written by a foreigner who hasn't quite got the grasp of commonly used english metaphors, expressions and various manners of speech.
We were just sat there talking, everything else in the cavern of the kitchen sucking up all the attention. And then someone screamed. We all whipped around and saw the crackling, dancing tendrils of flame, growing ever bigger. Cackling ever louder. Rifling through the stores of information in your brain, what to do? What to do? Someone picked up the ball of orange heat and threw it outside onto the damp expanse of grass. Stamp. Stamp. Splosh. A bucket of mop water extinguished the danger. Yellow and black heap on the floor. Charred and smoky. Be careful with your tealights.
It felt like my eyes were being pushed back into my eye sockets. My orbits were being crunched and hammered by some kind of invisible force, also known as tiredness. I rubbed my eyes but nothing changed. It was strangely cold inside my sleeping bag, even inside the house. I wriggled slightly to free my arms from the constraint of the cloth walls and turned over and groped for my phone, to hold it up a couple of centimetres from my face, since my glasses had disappeared somewhere. 8.40am. I had another hour.
So I went back to sleep.
And I go into my own little world, examining and imagining different things in my life, which definitely fills the blank hours after the cavernous 'click' which signals the end of side 2. Not so much insomnia, as boredom that clutches at my consciousness - it seems it's not that possible to be put to sleep from boredom.
Only to be woken up at an some inoppurtune time, either too early or too late, with something or with nothing to look forward to. At a first, central or penultimate chapter of a dream.
Seen so clearly, yet remembered so cloudily.
And as the world spins around you so do the chords that spell out the life of someone else you don't know personally but it's a damn good insight into their mind anyway. Have you ever wanted to nod off before? Or close your eyes and just hear, every single note and syllable passing as vibrations to your head, to produce such great effect? With the heavy lids and droopy limbs comes a sense of wonderment at how such a thing could be. Just nod your head, feel everything, isn't it great? You should try listening to psychadelic rock sometime.
And it was the smell of the fairground, all around. The kind of thick smoke with hints of burning smell that sticks in your nose long afterwards. If it wasn't accsociated with lots of good memories, then it would be described as acrid. Then there's the smell of cooking meat and fermenting sugar as you pass by the food stand, which isn't so plesant after a particularly energetic ride... And behind everything there's still the thick, black smoke, stagnant and static, running it's fingers over the rest of the clean air, reaching out further and further, taking in the rest.
Tell me something, please. Anything to break the silence. The dark is first probed by an orange pinprick or two, filtered by two strips of faded cloth - a memento of the past spells of sunshine. Then a flood of electricity envelops the space and my eyes burn. And my mind burns. The leaden lids and will to stop thinking doesn't combat whatever wants me to stay awake. It clutches like fingers on a ledge. Though at one point they slip and I still want you to carry on speaking, to make me feel safe. It's never been this silent before.
Could you ever, could you ever, could you ever do that or this or, look - over here, those or these? Well? Don't think I'm not looking for an answer. I know what you want to do. It's staring you in the face, but it won't go away. What's printed won't go away. You can't erase it, so would you ever, would you ever, would you ever carry out those plans that you - well, others - put in place to be carried out. You always carry them out and along and through and about, no - don't put them down. Just keep strumming.
Personal expectations are the hardest to live up to. You always seem to feel like you're failing at something. Would being just one more of the herd of sheep make life any easier? Being told what to do by the establishment? Stacking shelves? There's so much to fail at, it's hard not to fail something at some point in your life, but when you're so used to suceeding, the first few failings are like being chucked in a bath of ice-cold water. Sometimes it sucks being clever - but I've only ever discussed my feelings about this with one person.
Penguin, Ice, Water, Blue, Sea, Fish, Grey, Cloth, Fibres, Cotton, Balls, Stripy, Umbrella, Rain, Trees, Golden, Ingots, Famous 5, George, Freya, Flower, Petals, Purple, Rainbow, Pot, Stew, Meat, Slab, Pavement, Library, Books, Paper, Pen, Ink, Desk, Chair, Floor, Carpet, Rug, Yellow, The Game, Losing, Monopoly, Cheating, Cards, Lunch, Beans, Orange, Peel, Police, Hats, Feathers, Birds, Beaks, Sharp, Knife, Scar, Lion King, Pride, Plain, Jane, Joe, Toe, Nail, Hammer, Wall, Graffiti, Paint, Brush, Swirl, Pattern, Draw, Night, Black, Jumper, Sandpit, Sun, Field, Green, Grass, Summer, Beach, Pier, Amusements, 2p, Copper, Manganese, Lead, Tablets, Liquified remains of human corpses, Latin, Tacitus, Germanicus, Piso.
There once was a girl who was bored
For she had nothing to do while it poured.
And so she wished for something to do,
Even a trip to Timbuktu
But that she couldn't afford.
There was once a girl who was poor
Though she did not wish for anything more.
It turned out she was satiated
Though a little bit aggravated
And it had everything to do with the law.
There once was a girl who was lean,
Though not the thinnest you've seen.
She tried to put on weight
But however much she ate
She couldn't gain a bean.
Is extensive quoting a sign of true friendship or that you've just run out of things to talk about? Yes, it means you like the same films and comedians and such and have a similar sense of humour, but does that really constitute a conversation? It may be one the most hilarious things ever, but is the endless rattling off of various amusing sentences someone else has written or said and are probably being said all over the world simultaneously by most of the population at any one time of any value to people's conversations?
Well, they're funny - so, yes.
Make a list and stick to it.
Tick them off and finish it.
Try not to add some more to it.
There's not much more you can think for it.
Just carry on lengthening it.
Oh, there's something else and you can't afford it.
Ask someone else if they have it.
Or you can just make it.
But you still can't buy it.
Will you ever have it?
You know you could get it.
Will you ever do it?
I doubt it.
Not when you don't like it.
But what else is there to do with it?
Other than spend it?
We are now boarding - We always seem to miss the obvious, be it in exams, looking for Wally or putting on certian attire.
Yes, I forgot to put my blazer on this morning.
It seems stupid now, but at the time it just slipped my mind - Oh, I need £1.71 for that foam tomorrow... how much do you bet that'll also slip my mind?
It's such a weird price as well - I suppose a lot of things are after the VAT increase.
And the university fees increased.
And I'm going to die penniless - welcome to my train of thought.
Someone has attached some rope and is now hanging onto the bottom of it, swinging around with no intention of getting off in the near future. Someone has clenched their fingers around and is now squeezing and tightening their iron grip. Someone is playing monopoly and has grabbed too much money, and created too heavy a weight to go unnoticed. Someone is causing this sinking. Someone has too high expectations. Everyone has to experience the whole spectrum. Not everyone can succed. There always has to be the bottom and top of the heap. But that is always changing, it seems.
They can say stuff to me. And now I am confidante to yet another event in someone's life... I will look at other people's cards, yet not remove mine from my chest. And even though I'd like to share the hand I've been dealt, I just can't seem to bring myself to. And since the aim in most games is to get rid of all your cards, I most certainly seem to losing this round, not to mention all the other rounds before... At least my collection is starting to be revealed to those who ask. Not so much voluntarily...
The grass is green and the sky is blue.
People are greedy and power hungry too,
We live in a world that we heartlessly destroy by the day
We just choose not to notice all that decay.
The butterscotch which used to be sought and seeking
Is not there anymore, strictly speaking.
These pent up words that are trapped inside
Refuse to speak up and I've lied and lied.
And now I'm confused in a way I never was before:
All my core beliefs have been shoved out the door.
These fundamentals cannot be changed,
It's just a pity that we're so estranged.
We, as a generation, have not experienced all the things we should've, the upcoming one even more so. This scare culture we have drummed into our society is horrid. Children won't even be allowed to move soon, for fear that they touch the ground. (Oh god! Not the ground!) Not being allowing one to skin ones knee or climb a tree, is depriving one of a proper childhood. Think back to those children brought up during the 1940s, when there was proper reason to be scared. We are pathetic, even as a race. I am not proud to be human.
Enslaved to an inanimate object. That's what this generation is;
I can't wait to eat up their faces, over and over, every single waking minute, eating up someone's mind. They may have something more important than clacking on me for an hour but still they tuck their future away on a shelf, just to follow the little link to their tribes sometimes ever so far away. But I manage to reel them, tempt them and watch them.
And every time, I load up the face.
Just for her to see, to play with her mind and keep her coming back.
We'd rather eat dirt.
Go on then.
So we did.
We took a pinch from the flowerbed beside us and put it in our mouths. The grit immediately exploded over every single surface - the earthy kick with undertones of sand making itself at home. Even though it was lousy we carried on until our small mouthful of dirt was dissolved and on its way to our stomachs.
I don't think I'll ever really forget the first time I ate dirt. And I hope I don't lose the friend I did it with.
Ich habe keine fur heute zu sagen oder schreiben also werde ich auf Deutsch schwafeln - dass fullt die Box immer auf und ich kann meine Deutsch gleichzeitig uben. Meine Lehererin hat gesagt dass ich toll auf Deutsch schreibe, mein Problem ist wenn ich es sprechen, weil man uberlegt muss was man sagen mocht und das viel Intellekt benutzt... Wenn ich auf Deutschland fahre, ware ich vielleicht ein Paar Probleme bekommen weil ich nicht genug Vokabeln weiss, aber sie sollen was ich sage verstehen weil sie ein bisschen Englisch sprechen, wahrscheinlich besserer als ich Deutsch spreche... Das ist nicht so schwerig.
Well, in exactly 4 months today I will legally be allowed to buy a chainsaw, supposedly. Not that that's going to be the first thing I do, I just think it's quite interesting that you can wield a potentially deadly weapon with your hands, yet not drive one until you're 17. But I don't think it's true - if I was the government I wouldn't let a force of 16 year olds rampant with chainsaws, especially after the fee rises... It's just not a very intelligent idea really. One thing I do know is I have a physics exam that day -.-
Look at the sunlight - watch it shine and scrabble at the hand of the cold. Blue and yellow and red are everywhere, lifting from the depths a feeling long forgotten after months in the dark. It's simple really. It's drawing out the happiness. Walking home at nighttime, not in the black, with helium balloons attached to the corners of lips, drawing them up. Reminisce all you like, but things won't happen exactly that way again, so you know what? You've got to try and make things happen similarly - it's the only way to relive those times you loved the most.
I had my second Inception-like dream last night (i.e I dreamt I was having a dream) which was incredibly weird, since I woke up after having thought that I was already awake, if that makes sense to you at all... I hope someone's not trying to hack into my mind... But to be honest, if someone wants to see something, in an email or the like, they can. Nothing is secure and all codes are breakable. So many people complain about that fact, but why kick up such a stink about it if they have nothing to hide?
Classics or Biology?
Long or Short Course?
Bother or not?
Old or new?
Ask or not?
Spend or save?
Answer or not?
Give up or not?
Trace or draw?
Eat it or leave it?
Wear it or something different?
Percussion or more bassline?
Accept or fret?
Think or block?
That word or this one?
Song 1 or Song 2?
Annotate or label?
Run or laze?
Train or revise?
Prop it up or let it lie?
Bag or fingers?
Today or tomorrow?
Now or next week?
Them or them?
And I have to pick one out of all those.
In a bid to cut down on my internet hours I'm abandoning 100words. And maybe a bit of time on facebook too... But only a bit. Only recently have I realised how much I use this site like a blog, as do many other people, so I decided to either make a real blog, or give up. But I'm not going to set up a proper blog because I'm lazy like that. Though I am proud of myself for managing to find something to write about for 152 days. (Yes, I did work it out...)
Well wasn't that a poetic goodbye... :')
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