My Full On Epiphany

So a few months back, I had what I thought was an epiphany. I have a friend called Jay, and Tess liked him too, then all of a sudden, boom! She didn't want me to have anything to do with him and she kept pulling a face of pure revulsion when he came up in conversation. I thought to myself, well he hasn't done anything to me so why should I care what he's done to anyone else? Yes, that was my epiphany, to not care about what anybody said about my friends, to trust my own experiences with them, to choose my own friends and not have them chosen for me. This seemed to work, or so I thought, but yesterday I received a message on facebook; it was a cross between an apology and an explanation from somebody who I believed to have hated me - we've been at each others necks for a while. That's when it struck me. The main reason I was so 'against' her was simply because that's what I was expected to be. I was expected to hate her, and to be unsympathetic to her, and to not show any doubt in what my actions said about my feelings towards her. This sounds petty, but I can say without a doubt that this was the case with her too. My epiphany a few weeks ago was good, but it wasn't a full on epiphany. This was. This was the next step, building on what I'd thought a few weeks ago. I read this facebook message and thought to myself, why should I conform to anybody's expectations of how I act and who I like? It was so subconscious that I'd had no idea it had been happening, and I'm not ashamed either, in fact I'm proud that I can see that now. By discovering this, I can now confront it and try to be the best person I possibly can be.

Words.

So I'm thinking about writing to the newspaper again. A few weeks back, Mother, Pa and I were in the car talking about public transport, and there was an opportunity to write something, but I never did because it isn't really something I care much for. Sometime buses don't turn up, well that's a shame but if you go to catch the bus with other people then it's not like you're stranded, and if you're only catching the bus to a few miles down the road, start walking until the next one comes up. I don't even have to ask for an under sixteen all day ticket any more either as they've now introduced a teen ticket, which is only £1 more expensive than the under sixteen but £2 cheaper than the adult. Needless to say, that didn't captivate me in the way that the whole 'emo suicide cult fronted by My Chemical Romance and other such music' did. I always wanted to write to the newspaper again, but I was worried that they'll sigh and think 'Not her again...' and that they'll think I'm some attention seeking whore. But lately I've stopped caring about that because I've found something new that I care about, and whilst I've always cared about it, I never realised to what extent until I had some real experience on the topic. You might have already guessed the topic that I'm referring to: charity shops.

The first time I wrote to the newspaper, I read an article and got really angry. I then whipped out a piece of paper, tackled the article point by point and wrote bullet points of what really got my goat. Then I just had a pure, raw rant. There was no technique like there is when I'm writing, this was pure argumentative emotion, and it got me into the Daily Mail with a huge picture of myself. (One of my favourite memories has to be when the Daily Mail photographer came over unexpected whilst Carys and I were watching Russell Brand on the laptop, and then once he'd left, Carys, Tess and I sprinted down the garden and screamed.)

This time though, I'll be writing to inform, and not in a defensive way. There are so many things about the charity shop that I had no idea about, and if awareness was raised, then charity shops' business could increase and their outgoing costs could decrease. I mean, is it really right that charity shops have to give out reimbursements to their volunteers for things such as bus money? You have to be sixteen to be an all-round useful volunteer (because only at sixteen are you legally allowed to use the till), and the legal bus ticket for a teenager is £3.75 - as we know though, many of the volunteers are over eighteen, meaning their bus tickets cost £5.75, which adds up to £34.50 a week at least, based on the assumption that at least one return ticket is bought by an over eighteen every open day of the week. That's taking from charity in order to help charity. We've been listening to Radio Two on both days that I've been volunteering there, and on Monday they were discussing whether or not it was right for elderly pensioners to have free bus passes, in particular rich pensioners. I thought what many though - they've paid their taxes, and the richer people have paid more. The opposing party argued that the economy couldn't really fund or handle this though, which is when I had an idea - reduced bus ticket prices for the elderly, like the same price as an under sixteen. Elderly pensioners' tickets are always the same price as childrens, so why not have the same system on the bus? Then that's when it came to me, reduced prices for volunteers. If they have a pass, they can also get a reduced price. This is obviously mainly for the majority of volunteers who are over eighteen.

And that is only one of the issues that gets my goat, the main one is this: people have no idea that they're costing the charity shop by their ignorance and lazy disrespect. A lady walked in with a full bin bag of donations and said the words that tear a smile off all understanding volunteers' faces. "They're really good, they just need a wash." I can't speak for all charity shops, but the Red Cross doesn't have any washing facilities other than a steamer. If something is dirty, it gets ragged, meaning it is put in the rag bag and sent away to India or Russia. If it's clean, it gets hung, tagged and steamed, checked over, priced and put out. Sometimes the steamer uncovers deep dirt, and then the item of clothing gets ragged. This 'rag bag' costs the Red Cross a whopping £20 for a roll, and the more dirty clothes the charity shop gets, the less time they'll last. Seriously though, why would you give dirty clothing to the charity shop? I've always been brought up to wash everything before donating it, but that was purely through respect and convenience for the charity shop. You see, the charity shop actually has a high standard. It sort of frustrates me that more young people don't go in. There were some really nice skinnies in there, and a bright turquoise MTV tee that I snapped up after I'd finished working. A girl from my school was dragged in by her mom, and she was so mortified that she'd been caught by somebody in her school in a charity shop that she covered her face with embarrassment the whole time. I simply don't understand.

In other news, my back's been killing me ever since yesterday (after my five hour shift). I went to bed in extreme pain, it took me two hours to not only find a comfortable position that hurt my back as little as possible, but to also stop my mind from racing. I sent two texts before putting my phone on the 'Sound Of Silence' profile, meaning that it was not only silent, but didn't vibrate either. I woke up in extreme pain but a text cheered me up a tad, then I somehow managed to come downstairs. Mother handed me a letter and basically, here's what's happened: A year ago, I wrote a, what was in my opinion, crappy poem entitled 'No Stranger To Death' and Mother threatened to enter it into a competition. It turns out that she did and I had no idea. Anyway, I've been chosen to feature in one of the books in the Poetry Rivals collection. Mine's been chosen for 'A Sugar-Coated World'. If it's picked by the editors to be in the top fifty for under eighteens, I'll have to perform it and I'll get £20, then the over-all winner gets a top-of-the-range laptop. No matter what happens though, as long as we send the consent form away by August 13, 2010, it will definitely feature in the book, which is released on Halloween.

I've posted the poem up on my Creative Juices Blog (yes, that's a link). If you haven't noticed, I have a new link list on the left hand side of this blog. Life on Jupiter is my old blog, Tofu Brown is this blog and Creative Juices is a new blog on Tumblr, designed simply for things such as scene settings, monologues and poetry.

Jumping From One Blog To Another...

So I am about to embark on the worst week of my life - tomorrow I have a Business exam and a Math exam, the next day I have an English exam, then I have two History exams followed by an English exam and on the last day, a Math exam. It's mainly the day of History I'm dreading, and the fatigue that I know I'm going to be suffering from even more so... However, this past week has been great. I met up with my sister, an old friend/ex I haven't seen for ages and a bunch of her delinquent drug taking friends who are actually really nice; I also dragged Abi along even though I knew she wouldn't like them, she promised that she'd try but nevermind. Of course, there was the whole thing of meeting me good ol' mate, Tim Minchin (pahaha) and of meeting up with William, Cerian, Shaun and Henry, as it turns out, to sell the harmonica. These were all very good days for me, but none beat yesterday night.

I was in one hell of a mood. I'd woken up in extreme pain, mainly in my spine, and my throat was bad too. Ashley was coming over, and although I wanted to cancel badly, I couldn't since I hadn't seen him since Tuesday morning and even then I hardly spoke to him. (The thought of society and their values has been depressing me lately, and he's had to suffer.) Mother had to find my machine for me, and we watched lots of Tv. I occasionally checked my facebook and formspring (like a real junkie does), and I had a message on the latter asking if I held grudges, and in my reply, I said "I like to get back with people I might've lost accidentally, there's one especially, but I won't push it." I wanted someone in particular to see, but I was scared of being ridiculed. Then, moments later, I received a text from this particular person. It simply said, "Hello?" I replied with the biggest smile on my face, but I was also anxious, anxious that this was a set up or was about to implode into a huge argument. I then got a phone call, and I looked at Ashley on the couch before screaming "I NEED TO TAKE THIS CALL!" and sprinting up the stairs.

This particular person's name? Matthew. Why was this call so important? Because we haven't spoken since August 21st and up until that point, he'd been my best friend, in fact, it was more than that... What happened? It's a long story that I'm not telling for the 100th time because that would be a bitch to programme! (pahaha! Sorry if you don't get it...)

Yes. Matthew came back to me. Just like Jarvis Cocker's song 'Baby's Coming Back To Me' (that's a link). Ages ago, Mother said that Katy Perry's song 'Thinking of You' made her think of me and Matthew, but that just meant that I couldn't listen to it for nine months... I could've had a baby in the time that we weren't in touch. It could've been known as Heartbreak Kid! *story idea* But yes... he phoned and I answered, and I broke down and asked if it was some kind of cruel joke. I mean, I knew a few things about what was going on in his life because my friend happens to be pretty good at being an investigator. I never thought we'd get back in touch though. Once off the phone, I spent the night texting him whilst being sat next to Ashley. Mother said it was rude but I didn't care. That night, I read over the texts from the event of August 21st 2009, and I came across one from Carys reading: "You've lost Joe, you've lost Matt, now you've lost me." As it turns out, I only lost her, and dude, I can so totally live with that. No problem.

Why Bother?

Is there really any point in people who've broken up in still being in touch? I mean, the only reason a couple didn't work out is because one of the two, or however were involved in the relationship, didn't want to be together. The only way they can really keep friendly is if one of them, preferably the one that was left and not the one that did the deed, still has feelings for the other one. This isn't really a friendship then, is it? That will never be the same person that you knew, of course it won't. That will be the shell of the person that you created, nothing more as far as you're concerned, sometimes less. You can't just quench feelings by somebody else's command. I know I've tried to tell people to not like me, and it doesn't work; some were so humiliated that they just avoided me, others just worked away at me skilfully and we'd either get together or I'd latch on to them that weekend. They'd get their hit, right? That's not what you want from an ex though, you don't want to end up like me and Rob. He left me and yet I didn't stop liking him, and every time we saw each other, you could see that things would never be the same. He's completely changed now, but by ripping out my heart at such a vulnerable time, things could never go back to normal, not with all the hard work I'd put in. So why keep in touch with them? Hello, it'll only give them hope and unless your reasons for leaving them in the first place weren't bulletproof (like when I left Ashmlee Willie Winkie for being too mature for my Year Seven self, or for not having enough communication skills to deal with my Year Ten self), then there's no chance of their hopes ever being made reality. So it's really to give yourself emotional cushioning really, not to help them. You can't bear to lose them, but you should've considered that at the beginning. That's the disadvantage of every relationship - if it doesn't work out, your whole relationship could go bust. That's why music is so important, it doesn't leave you and it'll always take you back with open arms, it'll always take the new you back more importantly. Why should humans be this forgiving though? Why put someone's feelings above your own when they've hurt you so badly? It's quite ridiculous really. A load of drama for nothing.

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.

Back In Form.

I know that people are now aware of this blog, and I honestly don't mind. This is just me trying to let off steam, put things into perspective and be happier in the knowledge that I'm not being a secretive moose. Anyway, Meh knows and in some ways I don't actually mind because I didn't really hide it, and whilst I could only ever patronize him, I was getting better on the talking front. However, I noticed how I've actually gone back to how I use to be mentally: unstable, intolerant and closed. My hair is back black too. I wear colours now though, and I don't like feminine guys much (which reminds me of my shocking revelation).

Today was the school's Eisteddfod, which is all in Welsh. None of the lessons ran properly, and first lesson I had Welsh. I'd made up a plan on the spot when I arrived and saw no Meh, I quickly went to a computer room before he could appear and did a task for Business that I hadn't done before. Lunch time went with no qualms, apart from me panicking over outfits to wear to this 'thing' tomorrow (which I'll explain later on), and then only myself and one other person turned up to Art. So we went down to the hall to watch some of the Eisteddfod. First was a Welsh rendition of Queen's 'Somebody To Love' which has to be one of the most awful things I've ever heard, and then there was a Welsh rendition of James Morrisson's 'Broken Strings' which was actually really good considering it was in Welsh. Mind you, it was fronted by one of the prettiest, loveliest, most talented girls in my year, so that was no surprise. Then there was some crap 'ceremony' thing that made no sense to me but went on until forever, or at least that's what it felt like. Then there were the disco dancing groups. The first in green were okay, but the dancing wasn't amazing and it wasn't funny, so it didn't bode well. The second group came out in blue (which was my 'team') were entertaining and did well. Nothing could prepare me for the final group though. Basically, the guys stole the show in the way that all guys can. Girls just don't know how to be funny. Bless, they completely stole the show. Four of the guys in their vests (and I never thought I'd be girly about guys with muscles, but I literally died - in a good way), one in a bright yellow tutu. He's in my Business class, so I knew he was really funny, but I never thought I'd actually laugh out loud at him on a stage. Meh was in that group, but that wasn't why I watched it and I really resented the thought that that was why I was there.

I then stayed afterwards to watch some of the music soloists. My 'bus buddy' first, my old friend second, Lady Hammett third, Chin fourth. Then I left. I would've waited for Squidward, but I didn't know how long that would be. I had to walk past Meh to leave the room, and I think I nearly broke my neck. The floor was like a magnet and I clenched my eyes shut. It was horrible, I felt so small and puny. Oh well... Turns out Squidward won, which is epic since all we hear about is Lady Hammett and my 'bus buddy' winning things, but Squidward isn't as competitive so it's less rare news. Lady Hammett understood when I explained to her. This is one of the few times where I could actually say it better than I wrote it down. Talking about music, I have rediscovered my love for Emilie Autumn (her album is top priority for me to get now, sorry Ellie Goulding!) and Elly has introduced me to Joanna Newman, who is seriously amazing in a weird way. Emilie Autumn is quickly becoming my new obsession. She went to a music school, and they told her to keep her personality off the stage as she was only an outlet for the music, she tried to kill herself a few times and has bi-polar, eventually ending up in a mental asylum. She's written a book called 'The Asylum For Wayward Victorian Girls' and records poems and releases them as a part of her albums. I've included a short video of hers below and it's like the only video of that topic. She's not like these feminists who rant and rave about men all the time.

The 'thing' that Lady Hammett has brought upon me is that of a family event that I'm still not sure of. I had a brief run down on the family members that would be there; the depressing vegetarian and her know-it-all second husband, the kooky old lady and her deaf husband, the posh host who doesn't need to work and has two houses and her husband (who I've forgotten all about other than he must have a good job), the drop-out cousin and chav cousin with the boring job who I can't remember if their going or not, the cousin with the babies. Anyway... I don't know what to wear. I've been warned not to say anything weird or wear too much black. I don't want to over-dress or under-dress, I have a really nice posh dress but it's black, and Lady Hammett assured me that it wasn't 'that' kind of 'thing'. To say the least, I'm petrified and the worst part is that it's tomorrow.

I've also decided that in sixth form I shall say what I want, wear what I want and do what I want. I'm fed up of this fake façade, living life trying to be normal and then relaxing on her. In sixth form, I won't hide things and I won't be defeated by someone as perfect as Meh. I'll be like a sphynx - weird, extreme and naked (metaphorically or course). Oh, and by the way, I totally can't believe that it was snowing on the last day of March. Spontaneous weather - I like you. You can stay.

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...

My Pitiful Calamity...

Hey everyone, allow me to introduce you to the working of my body clock:

Bed at 4am. Awake at 9.45am. Bed at 11am. Awake at 5.30pm. Still tired.

I had to go to the dentist AGAIN today, which wasn't really cool, but I talk to Dr. Rai now because after being seen by Dr. Patel, I can see that I could have a far worse dentist, so now I'm uber grateful for all the work he puts into my head. My mouth has been complete and utter agony so now I have this numbing shit for it. It'll make eating and making sound effects slightly bearable. As for my social life, it's gone. Ashmlee Willie Winkie works on Friday and Sunday, I don't work, but school means that I only get Saturday and Sunday off. Nobody wants to do anything on Sunday, because other than watch DVDs at home or walk around a ghost town, there's really nothing to do. And I'm fed up of all the rants of being a bad girlfriend because I'm only like that with him because he happens to work shit days and be the complete opposite to any of my friends, in or out of school. I want to see Lady Hammett (and yes, I have changed her to that on my phone contact) and I don't want to get stuck in routine like I have the last twice. Maybe he'll go to some skating thing one week or a party... I'm definitely going to see Alice In Wonderland with Cerian at least though. I refuse to drag him to that. He says that I Love You Phillip Morris looks funny, but I wonder if he'll still say that when the time comes. I'd feel uncomfortable with him there, I mean HELLO! It's a gay film with Ewan McGreggor, I'm going to be in tens of thousands of over-excited pieces! Oh well, here goes nothing.

Something To Think About

So lately I've been thinking about a few things; censorship, norms, values, elephants in rooms and why we're told not to do certain things...

Take for example, swearing. They're only words. They can be really offensive, true, but it's all about the context they're used in. People of an older generation say that people swear because they're not smart enough to use proper words. This is ridiculous. In fact, I can't think of many things more ridiculous. There are plenty of highly intelligent people who swear like sailors, the most well known example being Stephen Fry. I swear to add conviction to what I'm saying, to heighten emotion, to add passion. Yes there are incredibly stupid people that swear every other word, but they sound stupid and we shouldn't all be tarred with the same brush. There are more uses to swearing than simply offending and insulting. I've been a believer of this for many years, and it hasn't changed one bit. I still stick by it.

Now the controversial one. The elephant in the room. Our society's norms and values. What am I talking about? Things like proper drugs (as opposed to petty prescription drugs), self-harm and underage sex. These things are all evil, obviously. Just ask anyone that takes part in any of them and they'll tell you themselves. Right? Wrong! Why should we be dictated to about things that are good and bad. I know plenty of drug addicts (of course though, not many of them would consider themselves addicts) and they all seem happy enough. When things are taken in considerable amounts, then they can't be that harmful. Self-harm makes people feel good, and just because someone self-harms (be in with a sharp object or their fists) it doesn't mean they're suicidal. It's just like self-counselling, and if it's not overdone or done in reasonable, considerable amounts, then it can help restore someones emotion stability. True, it's an addiction, but it's not one that slowly creeps up to danger levels, it can be maintained. Underage sex is fine as long as it's done correctly and with some sort of thought before hand. Underage pregnancy is, in my opinion, skanky. Seriously, just wait until you have your GCSEs at least. My sister couldn't be bothered with school and was far too busy having (at the time) heterosexual sex, and now look at her. The only thing she can do in the RAF is be a cook. I do wonder how on Earth she managed to be thrown out if Graig in such a short space of time though!

Before I leave you with this, I would like to add that I wouldn't necessarily recommend any of these, but I would recommend that you take your life in your own hands. I overheard Pa talking about me to Mother before, and he said "She doesn't know what's best for her." Thinking of this always makes my blood boil. Nobody understands what goes on in my head. I go to say sorry, then say something sharp and cutting instead. That word is too hard. Only I truly know what I need.