The Shortest Day Of My Life

(Almost) Every Tuesday and Thursday I come home and spend half an hour to an hour going on and on about my day volunteering. The, let's call them quirky, characters that are regulars in the shop, the weird and wonderful donations we have in, the stories we come up with behind each donation, all the different personalities of all the different volunteers, all the things I tried on and didn't fit... However, I will not bore you with all of those stories.

I've been using my Tumblr blog quite a bit, but that's no to say I won't stay to this one. It's just that that one isn't for every day ramblings, it's for monologues, creative writing and poetic things. The sort of crap that you have going around and around in your head all day, so you just have to let it out. I didn't want to clog up this blog with junk and creative explosions! (Remember, the link's on the side.)

So what am I going to tell you? I'm going to tell you about my acupuncture, next time... Here's a brief snippet about today though: I woke up at 2pm, bathed and had acupuncture at 3pm. The 'spleen and lady problems' points on my shins were so painful the lady (who I though was related to Mr Moses but when I smoothly brought him up there was no recognition at all) had to stop. She said they were tender on a lot of girls, but mine might have been so bad because of my endometriosis. Then she couldn't get them out. I nearly cried. She left and I went to bed at 4.30pm and awoke at 7pm to eat three crumpets, sweet tea (freaking four sugars) and Grandpa. I then went on MSN to make some plans for tomorrow. I'm going to see my friend, who I haven't seen in ten years, play drums in his band. Actually, I then had a semi-jokey-argument with Hammy over the guitarist. I won't go into details, but I was dying from laughter and she was probably wanting to stab me. I've had to put the fan on because I'm dying from over heating. I think I'm generally dying anyway. Which reminds me, my yellow nail varnish has died. Damn cheap thing.

I've also fallen out with my oracle.

A Cry For Change

So I've decided to live life like I want to live it, but this is easier said than done. I want to wear my old man woolly jumpers, I want to have an accordion to stare at when I have a mental block, I want to party and stay over peoples' houses just for the sake of being out. In an ideal world,I'm sat in a park wearing my old man woolly jumper, with my oversized (fake) leather bag and huge Morrissey glasses. I have bright red hair, cheek piercings, amazing Jeffree Star make-up and I have a best-selling novel under my belt and a sketch book full of studies on many quirky pieces in many different mediums - there's a delicate study of a harmonica done in watercolours, there's a Vincent Van Gogh inspired study in done in oil paints, a ridiculously detailed study of an accordion done in pencil... But in reality, I'm just sat on the couch blogging, wearing a charity shop shirt. I have practically black hair with no fringe, no piercings and only mascara on. I can't find the time to write a book and I can't keep my mind on one story line. My sketch book has two crap pictures in that I want to burn because not only do I have no inspiration, but I have no skills either.You may be wondering what's brought this up now, hasn't it always been like this? Well the answer is yes it has been like this, but I'm sixteen and still go around places with my parents. I've been invited to a house party by someone I use to hang around with, then briefly lost touch with. The important detail here is that we never fell out. Mother said that she's tried to keep me from the Ammanford people, but the truth is that she's tried to keep me from the Carmarthen people, Brynaman people and Drama people. Well, I was stopped from going to Drama in its entirety because it was 'turning me into an asshole' but the way I see it, I was making me happy - me being an asshole is obviously me being happy. I want to go to this party badly. I want to hang out with these people, I want to share these people's experiences, I want to be able to be part of the stories that people remember.Mother says she's concerned because I'm never at the parties that people post pictures on on facebook, but when I off-handedly mentioned this party, she responded with "You know I don't like you hanging around with those people..." I believe the term used here would be double standards. I mean, I thought you were meant to grow apart from your parents, you're life shouldn't be constantly entwined with your parents. I'm pretty sure that that was in the Bible somewhere. Apparently, I was wrong. I have my mother as a friend on facebook, she reads this blog (which makes it harder to write) and she talks to Ashley a lot. Tess says that she and others think that it's not long until I rebel, and to be honest I do sometimes feel like freaking out and leaving, but that wouldn't achieve anything. I have to go to school, and they give me money to do so, and as my last post indicates, I'm seriously not independent. My parents and even my grandpa are involved in practically every element of my life - where I go, what I do, who I talk to, etc - and I can't change that or they would hit the roof. I remember the days of hope when I'd stare at sixth formers or the elders in Carmarthen and think, "When I'm sixteen..." I don't want to sound ungrateful, but it's felt like the equivalent to thinking "When tomorrow comes..." and tomorrow just turns out to be the same as today. There was no point in me turning sixteen. Hell, there'll probably be no point in me turning eighteen or fifty-nine, but I seriously wish there was. I've turned into Rob Fleming (from High Fidelity) already. I'm bitter, I'm resentful, I'm jaded, and more importantly, I'm too young to be any of these things. The quote "If you really wanted to screw me up, you should've gotten to me earlier" seems to apply for almost everything and everyone I meet now. It's not right. I'm not right. Nothing is right. It would be such a breakthrough in my life if I could go to this party. My parents keep on saying "You're turning into Tess... don't make us throw you out!" I'm sorry, but Tess was expelled from school, smokes and takes drugs, had the reputation of a whore, had sex with someone when she was allowed to go to a party at the age of fourteen, continued to have under-age sex and then boasted about it to me, has multiple naked photos going around the whole of Carmarthenshire, got kicked out of the college that is renowned for being full of drop-outs, is a lesbian, has no job or any intention of working and lives of her girlfriend. Yeah, I see what you mean, I am totally turning in to Tess because I happen to have a bad attitude. I so deserve to be kicked out the house with my bad attitude that absolutely every single teenager has. That's fair. That's completely fair. I suppose if I was kicked out of the house, I could write another rant to the newspaper... I seriously want to be like all the other sixteen year olds, I guess why I feel it so important to start now, a mere eight months after my sixteenth birthday. It's not much to ask. This holiday, I want to do at least two things a week. I want to have life experience, stories to tell, a chance to mature on my own, without any help or prompting. So far all I have planned is meeting up with Tess and shopping with Abi.

Money Bags and Lost Opportunities

I have two foolproof system in which I keep my money. One's my 'Every Little Helps' system, and the other is my 'Saving Up For a Rainy Day' system.

Every Little Helps:

I have a camper van money box for my coppers, a huge pink piggy bank for 5p coins, an adorable cow money box for 10p coins, a funky car money box for 20p coins, a classy white piggy bank for 50p coins and a small jigsaw piggy bank for my £2 coins. Notes and £1 coins are kept in my purse at all times. I count them up semi-annually, at the end of June and December.

Saving Up For a Rainy Day:

I have an amazing sheep money box (it's got wool on its body and an amazing face,) which I put £2 in at the end of every week. This came about when I had a £2 raise in pocket money when I turned 16. I figured that I wouldn't miss £2 a week, and as there are around 52 weeks in a year, that should mean £104. It will be counted up annually at the end of December.

As I've said, I count up my 'Every Little Helps' money at the end of June. As I couldn't fit any more 20p pieces in the specified money box, I decided it was time to count them up now. I've bagged up £95 so far, not including coppers. There was £20 in £2 coins, £20 in 50p pieces, £10 in 20p pieces, £10 in 10p pieces and £25 in 5p pieces (which was a shock). Hopefully, by the time I've put all of the money in the bank, the balance will have doubled! In September I should start receiving £60 a fortnight with EMA.

Yesterday was my first time paying money into the bank myself. I went up to Barclay's Llandeilo Branch after my half hour Welsh listening exam, and clutching the pay-in book to my chest, I fired loads of questions at Grandpa. During this scene, one of the main staff members from Gegin Fach y Gwili (an uber tiny, quaint cafe in Llandeilo that I planned on working in over the Summer) watched us. Grandpa said to her "She's never paid money in to the bank before!", to which she replied "How old are you?" Dreading what she'd say next, I quietly said "Sixteen." She said "There's something not right there..." Grandpa continued to embarrass me and then took me to the cafe in question for food. When we walked in, the woman was in the kitchen, and upon seeing me, she smiled and clapped patronisingly. I asked Mother how much, on a scale of one to ten, that damaged my chances of working there. She said eight. Then Dad chirped up and said, "I wouldn't hire you after that!" which means I now have to look for somewhere proper to work.

My New Glasses

So I now have my special glasses. They're for glare to help the migraine that has worn off slowly thanks to homoeopathic tablets, I would be on proper tablets, but they weren't vegetarian and I nearly chocked because when you're sobbing whilst drinking water in order to swallow some tablets, you practically choke. The scene was so dramatic that it took me half an hour to convince myself that it was okay just this once because it would help the agonising pain that I'd been living with for over a month. Sometimes it strikes out and I feel as if someone has stabbed me in the head, but it's nowhere near as bad as before, and I'm not linking it to cancer now. Although when I hear people talking about their feelings leading up to their discovery, I can completely relate and then I freak myself out. Oh, and on Embarrassing Bodies, I convinced myself I had Autism, but upon taking the test I only scored 20, the average is around 16 and to have Autism, you usually score more around 32. I know what I'm like, but just because you're ahypochondriac doesn't mean you're healthy! Anyway, back to the glasses. I got them after my Biology exam, which is the worst exam I've ever sat somehow, and I wore them over Lady Hammett's house - she was nice about them, said they were fine and not noticeable (they have the least amount of tint that's possible, but everytime I look in the mirror all I can see is the stupid tint). Mother and Pa picked me up and Pa said, "Yeah, they're nice glasses, just not on you." This really upset me, it's not as if I wasn't self-conscious enough. Now I don't want to wear them at all. Ever. Like I said in my vlog, I liked the big Morrissey ones, but Mother said,"We don't want her looking like Roy Orbison." This made me laugh and I knew the glasses were inappropriate for my cause. When I can manage to get a decent picture of these glasses on me, I shall show you. And just to add, I've never felt so British as I do now when I say this: the weather's broken!

Just Because it's Uplifting.

[All of the following took place on facebook chat (unless specified otherwise). We were both sat in the living room, approximately six metres away from each other with Lady Hammett sat next to me.]

Diane (Mother)

SH**head

Me (Daughter)

-.- Bedtime.

Diane (Mother)

OVERTIRED

Me (Daughter)

Says the adult calling their daughter a shithead.

Now make me a sandwich.

Diane (Mother)

CHILDISH!!!!!

Diane *in person*

What sandwich do you want?

Problem Solving =]

So a problem has arisen with my A level options which might cause problems later on in University. For God's sake please change the record - I know I'm thinking ahead and that I haven't actually sat my GCSEs yet, but like the saying goes: prior planning and preparation prevents pish poor performance. At least I won't get a cold slap in the face for a wake up call and realise that everything I've done in my life has been a waste because nothing adds up. Yes, like Economics is a social science, Life is a social math. Those who can't work out probabilities of events occurring, sum up the consequences of their actions or arrange their priorities from highest to lowest are quite frankly screwed. I know that Elly's right, and that life isn't as difficult as people would have you believe, but if you want to be successful financially to be able to take time off in order to work on your dream, then I think that you need to get things right. You can't build a house on a shaky foundation and not be weary of disaster. I know that I've spent a lot of time explaining that I don't want to get things wrong now, but the more I write, the more of an insight you get into my mind. Yes, this is all stressful for now, but it's no way near as stressful as it would be if you hadn't the faintest idea as to what to do. This is a good kind of stressful, because you can always comfort yourself by reminding yourself that you can change your mind as much as possible as far as University is concerned, because you have two whole school years left to finish until your final decision is set in stone. You don't even need to go straight on to University, although I think it's best because then you won't be out of the habit of learning.

Basically, I wanted to take Psychology, Sociology, Biology and English Literature. Psychology to go on to Criminology; Sociology to go with Criminology as a back-up, plus I'm really good at it; Biology because I read in one of the prospectuses that you need two sciences, inc. Psychology, to do Psychology at degree level, plus it's my best science and most helpful; English Literature because English is my best subject and Mother has an English degree if I did happen to need any help or guidance. These have obviously been thought out and are strategic. Then we had our option sheets and to my absolute horror, Sociology and Biology clash (meaning their in the same column and therefore occur on the same periods every single week).

Now, this can be sorted out. My headteacher has to consider the needs of both Ysgol Tre-Gib and Pantecelyn as she's in charge of both schools, so if enough pupils take two subjects that clash, the clash can be sorted out via the subjects being rearranged. There are six columns, one of which is an after school column. There are three columns that I'm not using so hopefully something could be worked out and put in one of those. However, after a conversation that took place between Mother and the deputy head of my school, a surprisingly lovely and fair Griffiths-Jones, it turns out that out of the two schools, only one pupil selected both Sociology and Biology. What are the chances of that? Me - the only one. I feel like I've been thrown into the dark ages where if you're unique, you're ostracised. If anything around twenty people had selected the same two subjects as myself, then the clash could've been figured out. However, I was alone in my decision, and therefore nothing will be done. It's simply not worth it for one person, and although I am deeply upset, I understand. Why bother putting everyone else's options at risk for one person out of around two thousand? That person might become the richest and most successful person in the whole entire history of the world, and yet they never get their full potential achieved because it just didn't work out. That's just depressing though, that's why I think that people who believe in fate are happier (even though they tend to be lazier). What this means to me is that I need to compromise both emotionally and strategically, and to do this, I enlisted the help of Mother. (I've made her sound like some superhero, have I not?)

First off, we got out the sixth form time table and circled the two subjects that I'm definitely doing in red (Psychology and English Literature). Then, going through every single subject that wasn't in either of the used up columns, we circled the possibilities in green. In the end, I had six of these - Chemistry, Biology, Sociology, Math, Economics and Media Studies. Soon after, we discarded both Chemistry simply because I don't really enjoy Chemistry much - Sorry Lord Hammett. Plus, I think I lack the passion required.

Secondly, Mother gave them a 'difficulty rating', which was 1 - easy, 2 - difficult, 3 - very difficult and after writing up my four possible courses of action, we added up their scores. (We gave Economics a 2 because in the sixth form booklet, it says that the standard of maths required is at a basic level.) The end results were as followed:

#1: Psychology (3) + English Literature (2) + Biology (2) + Media Studies (1) = Hard (8)

#2: Psychology (3) + English Literature (2) + Sociology (1) + Economics (2) = Okay (8)

#3: Psychology (3) + English Literature (2) + Sociology (1) + Math (3) = Hardest (9)

#4: Psychology (3) + English Literature (2) + Sociology (1) + Media Studies (1) = Easiest (7)

#1 was branded Mother's choice, #2 was branded a good selection and Dad's choice, #3 was branded as the hardest and #4 was branded as the most enjoyable as they're all humanities, but Mother's choice for Publishing. We discarded #3 as it wouldn't help my mental state at all (if you don't know what I'm on about, please just gloss over my last blog entry), especially with the Math.

Pa came home and we showed him everything that we'd done. I then picked up the University of Gloucestershire's Undergraduate Prospectus for twenty-ten and looked at Criminology, then at Creative Writing (since it's a joint honours applicable to Criminology) and then Publishing: Books and Magazines (which is a joint honours applicable to Creative Writing). Now get this: Criminology requires 240 points only, Creative Writing requires 240 points and at least an AS in either English Language or English Literature, and Publishing: Books and Magazines requires 260 points. (Psychology, which I could've done with Criminology, requires 280 points and at least a C in GCSE Math. Sociology, which I also could've done with Criminology, requires 220 points from a minimum of two A levels.) I worked out the minimum of points that I expect to have and I'd have more than enough. I don't even need to do four. Mother spoke to the administrator and found out that they accept the Welsh Baccalaureate, which would give me 120 points if I pass it. Something else amazing about the University of Gloucestershire is that the courses I want to do are based in Cheltenham, which is one of my favourite places ever.

I know that you shouldn't let your parents decide what you're going to do for the rest of your life - I even explained this to Pa by saying that if he wanted me to be a doctor, then I'd do all the required stuff and go on to hang myself in University, and that it would all be his fault - however, having their support makes a big difference. Nobody was ever supportive of the Criminology track that I was going down, but now Pa is being extremely encouraging about the Publishing: Books and Magazines especially, and the fact that it's with Creative Writing leads Pa on to believe that it's absolutely perfect for me. He's highly concerned about my mental health though, reminding us about what the doctor said, which is nice.

So now I guess it's between Economics and Media Studies. Both of these have their advantages to Publishing: Books and Films, no matter what anybody says. I know that in Media Studies, I'd be stuck with a lot of drop out scum because it's one of 'those' subjects. If I did Media Studies though, I'd have a hell of a lot more points and it would be useful because it's to do with the business that I hope, wish and pray to enter. No, I don't want to be a news reader like my parents would like, and I don't want to be a news journalist, but I'd love to be a music journalist or reviewer. Obviously though, number one life ambition will always be to be an author that sells enough books to make a living off of it and is then enabled to stay at home, writing.

Just quickly to finish, I have become very annoyed at one of my friends and it is completely their fault. It seems that they're doing everything in their power to not only contradict me, but to make me not only doubt myself, but to doubt my decisions on things that I was certain and happy about. The latest two being what I eat and my decisions with my options. Everything here is well though out with both of my parents - I think we'd know if a subject was irrelevant, like Biology would be. I feel that I'll explode to them one day, like I did to Sara in the corridor when I screamed, "Why do you hate me so much?!" I won't tell you how they've put these doubts there because then they'll know exactly who they are, if they don't already. I'm trying to keep contained for now.

For now.

Jeffree Star, my Doctor and my family.

Tuesday April Sixth, Twenty-Ten.

I went to see Jeffree Star in Sin City, Swansea. I spent £18 on merch (an uber-hot tee and his new CD entitled 'Beauty Killer') and then had my CD signed by the God himself. If you don't know who Jeffree Star is, then: [http://www.myspace.com/jeffreestar] Not only is he beautiful, but my sister and I have been in love with him since his first EP, 'Plastic Surgery Slumber Party'. I insisted Tess went, she simply had to. She brought Hannah of course, and I went with Cerian, Amy and Crumple. Synthetic Season were the opening band, and I loved them. Then Jeffree Star, who is quite frankly a real-life Queen Supreme. Then BrokeNcyde, who I like, but not enough to watch. Whilst they were on, Jeffree Star appeared at the merch table and over half of the audience left to see him. Okay, so I walked into the table when I walked up to him, but I was literally in a dream world! He signed my CD, we had a photo taken, and then I walked off with Tess and Hannah riding on cloud nine.

Wednesday April Seventh, Twenty-Ten.

I went to see the doctor. I've had a major headache since March Ninth (those with a good memory might remember me complaining after the first half of my Art exam) and now we're getting concerned. My Great-Aunt complained of headaches her whole life and eventually had an aneurysm and died of a brain haemorrhage. The blunt doctor said that I have a nervous disposition and am suffering from a stress migraine, so I need to do things that are more relaxing. I can't really do exercise due to the hyper mobility syndrome, and I can't swim (which is one of the few exercises that are good for me). Reading and writing isn't relaxing since it required concentration, so he ended up saying that the only thing for the headaches were video games. He also stressed that he's seen a lot of able people having the same problem, and that they have nervous breakdowns in university and go on to do nothing. He seems really concerned that I'm going to make myself psychologically ill. So I've basically been prescribed video games.

Monday April Twelfth, Twenty-Ten.

Mother, Papi and I found out that Nanna-Brown and Grandad-Brown were finally moving to Australia. They had it all planned out and are leaving in July. Whilst Papi acted over the moon at the start, he was upset since they didn't tell us until ten days had passed and everyone else knew. My parents wanted to buy our old computer back for me to do work on during my A levels, but they've already sold it and he won't give it back. The atmosphere all day was so horrible, I apologized to Ashmlee Willie Winkie later on and he said that it wasn't my fault and that I shouldn't apologize.

Tuesday April Thirteenth, Twenty-Ten.

It was Ashmlee Willie Winkie's and my eight weekiversary today, according to him. I went to see Tess and Hannah up in Carmarthen. We didn't really do anything, just sat around the table mainly. Charlie was there, urgh... Jam (who I haven't seen in around two years), Rachel and Danni (who I'd never met before) were the first of the visitors, nothing much happened apart from Tess and Hannah putting on fake tan. We were all nearly wetting ourselves with laughter. Tess looked proper black, especially her hands. Hannah wasn't much better, but Tess' peroxide hair didn't really help. Jam, Rachel and Danni left, and the next batch of visitors were this guy who had a voice that made everything he said sound like a complaint called David, a really quiet guy called Martyn, this lovely gay guy called Jake and Hannah's really pretty sister Becky. They stayed for a while and still, nothing much happened. I had my first ever cream soda and made myself some toast. They left and the three of us retired to the living room. I watched the first ten minutes of Saw V and then was picked up at 20.10-ish.

Wednesday April Fourteenth, Twenty-Ten.

My headaches are still awful so I went up to the doctor again - we think I've built up a resistance to Ibuprofen and Paracetamol just like I did when I was on Mephanamic Acid for my Endometriosis, so now I've been given Co-codamol, which you can get addicted to. Last time I took Co-codamol was the night that I swaer to God I had a mini-overdose, so I'm a tad bit weary now...

the Thing, the Allergy, the Spider, the Channel.

So I survived Lady Hammett's Aunti's house 'thing' and I might've exaggerated everything in my head due to fear. In the end, I wore my balloony purple top over a black long sleeve and black skinnies. Since my hair is black now, just the tiniest bit of black clothing makes it look like you're wearing all black, so I tied a floral scarf in my hair and put on silvery eye shadow (with black liquid near the mascara-coated lashes of course), and and my coral nail varnish! It makes me happy to look at, I need to buy more bright colours. I stayed over Lady Hammett's house, and then got picked up by GrandPapi. (It was actually really funny, as my phone started going and I looked at Lady Hammett and said, "It'll be my grandad going [impression of GrandPapi] I'M OUTSIDE!" and then, when I answered the phone, all you could hear was GrandPapi going "I'M OUTSIDE!" to which we laughed.) I got in the car, smirked at the old man and put Johnny Cash on. The song in question: One Piece At A Time.

We went to Gegin Fach (a tiny cafe in Llandeilo that's usually full of OAPs where I'm hopefully going to get a Summer job), met Mother and had food. Then, instead of walking down to Ashmlee Willie Winkie's as planned, we drove down and picked him up to take him with us to Leekes. He wasn't home, he was in Ben's, but walked over just before I lazily made my way over. We had a chocolate muffin each, and a hot chocolate with cream each, then we left. I had fun at home playing with his face and showing Mother the outcomes. We napped, went downstairs, Mother made him food (pasta with sauce) and made me a snack (Pringles to dip in the same sauce but in a pot), and we settled on the couch watching freak programmes. Programmes such as 101 Things Removed From The Human Body, Another 101 Things Removed From The Human Body, Surgical Appliances That Were Left Behind, and something to do with amazing medical stories. He slept on the couch again, and was gone by the next morning. I read fifty pages of Silas Marner the next day and it nearly killed me. I then started itching my arm again, therefore leading us to believe that Ashmlee Willie Winkie is my allergy. It only happens on Sundays, after I've seen him on Saturday.

Today, the first official day of the holiday, and I woke up a few times before finally getting out of bed at 14:26 to a sleeping house. I woke the house up (turned all the lights on and let the dogs out). Last night, not only did I have an itch, I also had a splitting headache that caused me to lose my peripheral vision when I stood up and forced me to wear sunglasses that look like they were from the sixties since the lights in the room (which was only candlelight) hurt me. The rents found it pretty funny anyway. I blame the fact that I read a whole fifty pages of Silas Marner! I'm better now though. Anywho, Mary started crying and I took her out the back. I closed the door and then saw a hideous, fat, petrifying spider and shrieked. Santi ran in and toyed with it for about two minutes, at one point sitting on it and trying to go under the mat because he thought it was under there. When he found it under his fat arse, he picked it up with his paw and ate it. He's a very smart cat indeed. I then fetched him some food to help it go down because I was actually scared that it would come up and attack me. I can't kill living things myself, and I have often let spiders live in the house against the rents will, but when it's as scary as this one was then I must let Santi intervene. It is just like a treat after all..? He's not a murderer, he's a saviour! MY KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR! xD

I almost jizzed when We Are Scientists came on television (NME of course) with their new song 'Rules' and oh sweet Jesus, I love Keith and his voice! I turned it up louder than I normally would with sleeping rents, but they deserve to be played loud! Once that finished, I pressed [channel down] and HOLY CRAP! The Academy Is... were just on television! There's an amazing new channel called Lava (underneath NME Tv, Sky 378) and I literally love every song on it. It has bands that I never thought I'd see on the television, just on the internet. Like Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, The Academy Is... and The Wombats. They also show really old videos, like The Automatic and Paramore's first videos. Plus, at night they have unsigned bands, which is an amazing way of finding new pocket bands to say you've been there since the start with. I now have five channels, although only four really since Scuzz isn't my thing anymore though. I still have MTV2, Kerrang! (just about), NME Tv, and now Lava!

Great Understanding There... -.-

Yesterday night, just after we all sorted out the new dining room chairs (we now have two pale green ones and four deep pink ones to go with the colour scheme of the kitchen) and took the old ones out to The Sanctuary, Dad was telling me how pretty I was and I broke down crying. I was depressed and on the verge anyway, but when he focused everyone's attention on me, everyone being himself, Mother and Ashmlee Willie Winkie, then I just skydived off the edge. For the last few days, the urge to sink my nails into my cheeks and just rip my face off, making huge claw-like scars down both sides of my face, has been my constant companion. Y'know, one of those people that just tag along and you can't tell them to leave because then they stay with you but in a retched mood that you simply can't ignore? Yeah, well I mean companion in that sense. Anyway, I told Mother for no apparent reason, and a few moments later, Pa stormed in my bedroom and said, nastily, "Go downstairs, and convince your mother that you don't want to claw your face off and that you don't want to kill myself." So I went downstairs, sighed, and said "I don't want to claw my face off and I really don't want to kill myself." Hell, I'd never even mentioned suicide! Assumption or what? I only agree with suicide when it's people like Hitler who REALLY have no way out! Anyway, that sort of did my head in because it's like when I told Mother that I punched myself in the head before, she just cried and never mentioned it ever again. It's sort of the whole 'out of sight, out of mind' thing, but it's driving me crazy. I'm so frustrated. I told Mother about the Meh thing and she was nice about it, probably because it proves that I'm not a lesbian like Tess, but Pa was seriously not understanding one bit. He's all like, "Well it sounds to me like you're being unfaithful in your actions!" Ha! Like I have a chance to be unfaithful, it is Meh we're talking about. There's really no hope. Oh, and I found out I'm allergic to popcorn. I can now add this to my list of allergies, which now consists of two things: hospital plasters and popcorn. Woop! x

The Week Before HELL.

So Monday night, I'm home alone and therefore obviously on the one and only worthwhile social networking website for my particular age group - go on and try to guess what on Earth I'm talking about! Whilst clicking 'become a fan' of random statements that I agree with or find amusing, I get a phone call from Mother. She's decided we were to be going to the Cotswolds on Tuesday, the day of my mock Welsh oral. Does she know this? Hell no! Did I care? Not in the slightest (Y)

The most gutting part had to be that I pretty got up at the same time as I usually do. I hate when you don't have to go to school, but you get up the same time. It leaves you feeling hollow on the inside, thinking about the lie-in that you should be having as a reward for not going to school. I got up though and put on my skinniest pair (and therefore favourite pair) of black skinnies, my new AMAZING Nike shoes, my New Look 'Rockstar' long jumper, my turquoise American Apparel zip-up, my ancient New Look black jacket thing, a creamy zebra print head band and my favourite Chihuahua necklace from Eden. Whilst walking from the car park to a nomnomnom place, we passed a little wooden shop, so we went in there and bought this wall thing that looks like a house but is actually a key holder. It's cute. We then went to the gallery that we always go to and viewed menus in four different places, the first two had little choice but did offer pea soup so I would've been happy, the third was just in passing and the fourth was somewhere that we normally go, and Pa and I had homity pie (which I usually have in school). We then went browsing in random shops, like Oxfam, Fat Face and a button shop, before heading over to Cirencester cathedral. I sat in there like a vain pig, redoing my head band and eye liner, whilst Pa was in a weird mood and Mother walked around in awe, like she has done the last 1,000,000,000 times we've gone there. I just don't seem to care much for cathedrals or churches or any religious places to be honest. Mother still argues that I'm a Christian because I've been Christened - she refuses to listen when I prove her wrong with what my RE teacher told the class. Seriously though, I couldn't keep my eyes off these English guys! We then zoomed to Cardiff, which we didn't really want to do, but it was getting late and most places would be closed in Swansea by the time we arrived. We went to two Pizza Hut's and in the first, they were really rude, and in the second, they'd run out of dough but were very polite. We then went to Pizza Express, but it was freezing in there so we went to Zizzi's which we love anyway, and we were served by this not-so-bad-on-the-eyes guy called James, who we realised was gay as soon as he opened his mouth. Tsss... Not cool.

Here's a list of things that went on between Wednesday and Friday:

I had to explain my absence in History to Lady Hammett, I was called repulsive by Squidward, I text a group of people asking them if I was just to prove that I'm not, I was prioritised in the hugging department by Digby, I met my new doctor, I had a row from my Welsh teacher for not being in school when I had my mock Welsh oral, I received my report (which had a double Business page and no Physics page), I spoke a few sentences to Smooth without exploding, I lost it to a Virgo, I nearly died in PE, I was called 'Foundation Girl' in referral to Welsh by my friend who's turned really bitter to me about the whole thing and I had a review with the Headmaster. Oh, and yes I know I should call her a Headmistress, but words changing for sexism and racism has gone too far. Isn't it better to treat people the same and not give people different words based on their sex? Feminism can get screwed. Then to top it all off, Lady Hammett stayed over and we watched two episodes of The IT Crowd, one episode of The Mighty Boosh and Blades Of Glory. We went to bed at gone three in the morning.

Saturday morning, we were meant to catch the quarter past eight bus to Swansea, as I had arranged on Wednesday (the same day I was called repulsive), but then on Friday night Cherry text me to tell me that the Brynaman bus would arrive in Ammanford at twenty past eight and that she 'hadn't had time' to check the times. (It took me about three minutes to check all of the bus times on the internet in my Business lesson.) This seriously annoyed me, so we had to bum around Ammanford until ten to nine, which really wasn't cool. We then zoomed to Swansea, zoomed over to Vue, waited for it to open and then went in and bought our tickets. Lady Hammett bought a large popcorn for the two of us and told me I didn't have to pay her, but she only ate like, three handfuls. I ate it all basically! Ashmlee Willie Winkie was there, so I saw him for a bit, then we went straight in and watched the film, which I can't be arsed to review (because I like to review things properly and in depth). However, I will tell you that my favourite character is now the March Hare, and my ultimate favourite part of the film simply had to be: [booming Scottish accent] YOU'RE ALL LATE FOR TEA! I'm not even joking, I nearly wet my pants. Seriously, I love him! After that, we strolled around Swansea, visiting the Blue Banana, Claire's, Top Shop, the special pasty place (Cherry rated her pasty an eight, Lady Hammett rated her pasty a nine and I rated my pasty a ten), Derrik's Music, Hobo's and Eden. We then went to the Mad Cow (Lady Hammett had a Nutella milkshake whilst Cherry and I had Kinder Bueno milkshakes) and then met up with Cherry's friends Shaun (Crumple) and Amy. They're lovely! Even if Crumple is obsessed with someone that seriously hurt me without giving it any though, y'know Fag from a few posts ago? Yeah, well him. Amy was lovely and crazy, which is grand. Lady Hammett went quiet, but that's here prerogative so..? We saw Ashmlee Willie Winkie again, which was grand! We went to the Blue Banana twice more because Crumple is obsessed, but to make up, he bought us Subway cookies, so it's all cocaine baby! On the bus, Amy went sick (poor thing), I took loads of pictures of Lady Hammett doing hideous faces and Midget REALLY annoyed us. Oh, and for reasons I can't be bothered to explain, I was being called Simpson Girl by this guy called Chris. Cherry started saying that she was going to be killed because her mother wanted her home by seven, which she failed to tell us. Why do people have such shit organising skills? It turns out the next bus to Brynaman was quarter past eight, which is slightly ironic as that's the same time that I wanted to catch the bus this morning! When we got home, Lady Hammett told me that she's busy on the weekend of the seventeenth of March so I have to wait to see I Love You Phillip Morris, which I'm really upset about but understand. Plus, it turns out that Jeffree Star and BrokeNCYDE are coming to Sin City, so I'm hoping I can go to that! I fell asleep at around half nine, and went to bed at around eleven.

I have my Welsh oral exam tomorrow and I haven't revised at all. I've prioritised my ten hour Art exam which is this Tuesday and Friday. This I am not happy about. Another thing I'm not happy about is that I woke up at nine this morning, but only got out of bed at noon. Then this blog post took an hour to write, so that's four hours that could've been spent on Art gone. Stressed? Of course, but I'm not going to act like Squidward about it...

Speculation...

The topics in which I am going to discuss shall include both things with and without a pulse. The things with a pulse are Rhodri, Santi and a guy; the things without a pulse are my Chemistry and Art exam. I'll apologize in advance about the length of this post, but it is only five paragraphs (not including this brief introduction) and Abi will be chuffed because she's been name dropped a few times! (Bless her...) For some strange reason, I know you guys will read this anyway.

i. Rhodri.

I met Rhodri (Mr Abi Hammett) on Saturday. Abi stayed over on Friday and we watched a gay film, an extra from the Mighty Boosh and some Drew from So You Think You Can Dance. She then introduced me to the possibility of meeting her man and I wasn't sure if I was allowed by him, if I was going to feel like a spare limb or if it was really acceptable. After much deliberation, I went. Here's my final judgement - he's a tall, intelligent A-level student who has a twisted yet hilarious sense of humour and is very lucky to find someone like Abi. Overall, that's an appropriate judgement for one of my three best friend's man. I speculate that they should last a VERY long time, if not until one of them dies...

ii. Santi.

This isn't such a lovely topic. Santi is my cat and we've known him since he was born as he was born next door. We have a special bond that's hard to explain, but I value him like I would my child. The other day he appeared disheveled and was limping, he couldn't get up of down any surfaces. We just thought he'd caught his foot badly in Mary's cage since he sleeps in a basket on top of it. Then he wouldn't eat and slept far more than he usually does. He became withdrawn and started spending hours upon hours under my bed, refusing to come out to eat or use the litter. These, as I have researched, are all signs of depression in cats and can be caused by a change of mod or routine in the household/owner. Lately I've been depressed (at home) and have also been sleeping around twelve hours a day, so hopefully this will brush off once I'm back to my usual self. I speculate that he's depressed...

iii. Meh.

I think that only Abi knows who Meh is, but for those who don't, he's a guy that I really like. Last year, I freaked out whenever a desirable male spoke to me - I'd hide my face uncontrollably, tell them to shut up and make weird noises due to my awkward nature. This year I'm trying to stop that, and in RE today, I actually spoke to him for a bit. Then I started freaking out again and told him about how I was trying not to but he was making it hard by patronizing me and my art. He's lovely mind... I asked him if he remembered what I told him when we were waiting for our Oral exam and he said "What, that you can't talk to guys unless their ogres?" and I nodded. Then there was Charli who was chatting away to all the guys without a problem. She's been in a relationship for around fifteen months now, and she's so beautiful, yet she doesn't even seem dazed by really adorable guys talking to her. I'm envious in a completely new way! I reminded Meh that I sat next to him last year and he reminded me that I never spoke to him, to which I replied that he never spoke to me either. He said that he was shy because he didn't want me to think he was a freak, and I just pointed at my face and went "EH!" hinting that that's still the case with me. He told me I shouldn't be shy, but me being a girl has over thought this and now come up with a fairy tale in her head. I speculate that nothing will ever happen, because I'm simply not compatible with anybody that I like...

iv. Chemistry.

This morning, after forgetting my headphones and mirror, having nobody to talk to on the bus and then verbally abusing two of my three best friends, I had my Chemistry GCSE resit. To be honest, it was far easier than the first one and I'd finished it in around half the designated time. I then counted up the marks that I definitely had and I now know that i have at least 50% which is a good, solid base. The easiness of the exam left me in a better mood which meant my day was automatically better. I speculate that I did better than the C that I received in August...

v. Art.

After my exam I made my way to Art, where I received my exam paper. You get six weeks to do preparation work in a new book since, like in Business, it counts as a new unit, and then you have two days in which you have to make your final outcome in the maximum time of ten hours. There were thirty tasks and five themes to choose from, so I narrowed it down to two themes (Appearances and Precious), and one task (Hobbies and Pastimes). I then discussed it with Meh who didn't take Art, and we narrowed it down to just Precious, so that's my chosen theme. I have already done the front cover, written a rough copy of my brief and done the outline of a mindmap, so I think I'm already ahead a little bit and will therefore not fall behind. I'm not sure if I continue on forth with my theme until she's approved of it, so I'll talk to her again tomorrow. I'm chuffed I can work in an A4 book again, instead of the A3 ones. She said that if you miss one of the deadlines, your teacher will phone home or your parents workplace if they're not there. I speculate that I'll pass Art with a C and that my exam unit will be better than my previous two units...

Karma =)

This is so amazing, that instead of wasting time by re-telling the story to everyone, I'm simply going to blog about it!

Dad was being a bitch in the corner whilst playing the Sims 3 on the computer. He was screaming and shouting about how much he hates a lamp, has always hated the lame and always will hate the lamp. It 'hurts his eyes' even though it's only a 15W, and it shines off the computer screen. (He's always over-sensitive to lights and it's really annoying.) Anyway, he was going on and on about it to Mother and she was trying to help but he was shouting more and more. Then the Sims 3 randomly closed itself down! He hadn't saved it for hours! Talk about instant karma! I had to hide the laughter though, nobody dares laugh at Mr Jason Brown's ill-luck! xD

Getting Rid of Christmas

Today, the Brown family embarked on getting rid of Christmas. According to Mother, 'everybody laughs if you still have them up after January 6th' although if they do, then I find them quite shallow and a tad bit weird. People must be rushed to hospital due to too much laughing with the amount of Christmas lights left out until around March just down the road and around the corner...

Now I need a Tens Machine (which sends electrical impulses through my back) and last night, I fell asleep on my side in the fetal position as per usual. That might sound irrelevant, but when I wake up after sleeping like that, it hurts, a lot. Then I did some Art which meant I was sat on the couch bent over my A3 Art book for quite a while. That hurt it more. So I put the sticky pads, that look like what you stick on people who've had heart attacks, by my shoulder blades and the bottom part of my back (behind my waist). Wires connect the sticky pads to the machine, which I keep in my pocket so I can adjust the settings to my preference. I was talking to Dad, and he saw my machine. (May I just add that being Australian seems to make people amazingly childish and prone to doing stupid things on a whim. Dad is from Perth, Australia.) He turned one of the dials (which adjusts the strength of the electricity) all the way up. I screamed in pain as the bottom of my back received the hugest electric shock I have ever encountered. Dad laughed and I looked at him with a face that could only mean utmost despair, before running off to Mother to cry. I did the same to him, but he didn't feel the same pain as I felt and only described it as 'a strange and unusual sensation'. He did go on to say that he now understands more about my minuscule pain threshold though.

Just to add, for food my parents had Beef Wellington and I had these cream cheese stuffed peppers in breadcrumbs. Mother had bought them under the assumption that they were the kind of peppers that you can get in your Subway, and when I complained that the left a spicy taste in my mouth and couldn't really eat them, Dad ranted at me being difficult to feed and that it was my choice to be a vegetarian, not theirs. Then once I'd left the room to write this, they ate one and laughing, Dad exclaimed "These are jalapeno peppers!" He hasn't apologized for the vegetarian rant though... No surprise there really! xD