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.

The Hay Festival, 2010

Monday, May Thirty-First, Twenty-Ten. This is the day I've been waiting for. This is the day that occurred yesterday. This is the day that as time goes by, gets further and further into the past.

Everybody knows about The Hay Festival of Literature and Arts. It's been hailed as 'the Woodstock of the mind' by Bill Clinton and is ever increasing. It was started in the late eighties, is an annual occurrence and spans over ten days. It originally only featured literature based events, but thankfully has expanded to include music, films, stand up and many other things. Is it a high society thing? Not really. Is it perceived as being so? Yes. I honestly think that that's only due to the interest in literature or arts (no matter what that may be) that you require to actually want to go. I'm not interested in drugs, I'm not interested in drink and I'm not interested in sex. I don't eat meat, I don't party and I don't have much in common with the media's perception of teenagers, and yes, you guessed it - I wanted to go to The Hay Festival.

My friend invited me to see Tim Minchin with her, and after a long conversation with my parents, which I dare not bore you with, it was decided that if I could get someone to go with me, I could go. Tickets cost a mere £15, and I say mere because he's really making a name for himself so I'm expecting ticket prices to mushroom by next year unless he does something spectacularly wrong. The person I got? My beloved Ashmlee Willie Winkie. He paid for his own ticket obviously, but it's all cocaine baby because he has a job and walks around with over £100 pounds in his wallet, which we've constantly told him not to do but to no effect. The car journey wasn't too bad, nor was it too eventful. I can't remember the time we left, or the time that we arrived, and it doesn't really make a difference to the story, with which I'm simplifying a lot to save time and energy for you guys.

We minced about for a few hours. We looked in stalls, Mother and I rushed to buy a The Guardian's Hay Festival bag each (which came free with a £1 Guardian that nobody really wanted), we looked for food but were shocked at the prices and lack of vegetarian food, Ashmlee Willie Winkie laughed at the ice cream stall that used sheep's milk to make their ice cream I stared wide-eyed in slight horror at a woolly jumper that looked like it was covered in swastikas and we caught the shuttle bus to town. We bought food from a small place called Oscar's, and I bought two CDs for £5 from the huge amount of CDs being sold, there were at least thirty standard school desk tables completely covered in music. I bought 'Nude' by Suede, and 'This Is Hardcore' by Pulp. Yes I am getting heavily involved in Britpop, the nineties scene. My parents bought me a cowboy voodoo doll thing and a pair of adorable bumblebee voodoo doll earrings which I wore to Tim Minchin. They also bought me a ladybug lapel pin, which is adorable. We roamed around two vintage stores (upon which I saw a girl dressed completely head to toe in vintage and realised that I could never carry it off), a bookshop which specialises in murder and mystery and the Castle Bookshop. We then caught the shuttle bus back to the festival sight so the two of us could meet up with the original friend who had invited me and her friend in the queue with one hour and a quarter to go. We could hear him through the tent and got overly excited. We went in and sat about six rows from the front. Tim Minchin came out and the three of us girls squealed and even Ashmlee Willie Winkie let out a smile not too dissimilar to our manic faces. He started off with 'Rock 'n Roll Nerd' and went through many songs and stand up moments. It was amazing. He went off track a few times and handed hecklers in such an amusing fashion. Of course, we all thought the hecklers were in their twenties, but it turned out they were in their thirties or forties (why isn't there a 'U' in that?) and were rather lovely. They seemed like paedophiles, but I think they were just a bit drunk and gay, and yes, I can judge all this because I met them when we were queueing up to meet the man himself. My friend made a spectacle of herself to one of the security staff men, who was oh so lovely about the whole thing. I won't go into it, because it annoyed Ashmlee Willie Winkie and myself. She is two years younger than me though. Stereotypes have some truth behind them, and there's a reason why thirteen year old girls are ridiculed. I don't care if she's fourteen, it still applies. She went insane about having to queue, I explained that it's because we're British and were raised with manners. She wanted to barge. I was sarcastic. The sarcasm might have been lost on her.

Tim Minchin signed all of our tickets, and Ashmlee Willie Winkie was so excited! I thought it would be quite sweet to all have a photo together, the three of us. It also saved a lot of time as the whole thing seemed very rushed. I don't care, I met the man, I'm a lucky bum! I said to Pa when he fetched us, "You'd be pleased to know that I was more excited to meet the Australian than to meet the drag artist," in referral to meeting Jeffree Star. He seemed pleased to say the least...

PostScript: I'm going to enter the festival's short story competition. There's a cash price, although it's not as big as you's imagine, and it has to be about Avarice. I haven't read the terms or the rules, but I'm excited nevertheless!

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!

A Classic Moment.

'Living-God' Jarvis Cocker hosts a radio show on BBC Radio 6 Music and won the Sony Rising Star Award. His show is on from four in the afternoon until six in the evening every Sunday, and he is quoted to have said "Sunday doesn't feel that different to the other days of the week anymore. Although there was something weird about when everything seemed to stop on a Sunday, it kind of marked out the week. I am going to put the boringness back into Sunday. That's my mission." He's sort of become a modern John Peel also, and is trying to stop the station from being closed down in order to save money, although he says that it's very cheap to run as the presenters don't have extortionate pay cheques and the shows are recorded in the same building as Radio 2. He said, "6 Music is never going to be the biggest station in the UK but it would be devastating if it was to close... 6 Music isn't going to change the world, it just wants to make it a bit nicer." Anyway, May 16. 2010, he starts the show by playing 'Tangled Up In Blue' by Bob Dylan, and at the end he said, "Tangled Up In Blue by Bob Dylan. That one goes out to Nick Clegg..." It took me a while to get, and when I told 'Mr. Shit, I Haven't Got A New Name For Him Yet And The Old One's Inappropriate', his reply made me realise how slow I was on the intake and how I maybe shouldn't tell others about it. I went on to tell Mother of Jarvis' little quip and she replied with "David should reply that he's going to live in a Yellow Submarine!" Anyone who doesn't get that should be embarrassed by their ignorance.

The Day of Being Christian

Ashmlee Willie Winkie and I were going to go to Carmarthen last week, so we caught a bus to Ammanford at around midday (the bus driver drove off when I was walking down the aisle and I actually did fall flat on my butt) and then we had to wait two hours to catch a bus to Carmarthen, we bummed around for about an hour and a half before deciding that it was pointless going since we wouldn't have much time to do anything anyway, so I phoned GrandPapi to pick us up. He was nasty to me at the start but when he realised that it was I, Tofu, he came straight away. He'd obviously thought that I was my sister (long story, and even if you've already heard it, there's now more). I put on an old CD that my sister and I made, that was the soundtrack to our lives two years ago, and although I've outgrown it, I still like it. Nikki FM by Hawthorne Heights came on, which has very a suicidal line, and when GrandPapi got in the car, he brought an old man that I'd never even seen before and turned up the volume. I could've died in awkwardness and Ashmlee Willie Winkie was laughing at me being embarrassed. Upon returning home, we watched loads of cartoons that we grew up to (I.M. Weasel, Spongebob Squarepants, Sylvester and Tweety, etc...), Doctor Who, Britain's Got Talent, I'm In A Rock 'n Roll Band and then A Bit of Fry And Laurie. We fell asleep and decided that we'd go to Carmarthen next Saturday.

Yesterday, we didn't make exactly the same mistake as last week. (I made a new mistake however because I judged the day's temperature on the temperature at half past seven, so by throwing on my wooly gray cardigan over my Used vest top, I was boiling hot later on in the day.) We woke up at around seven, and Ashmlee Willie Winkie caught the bus from his stop and ten minutes later I got on it at my stop. This time I didn't fall. Mother asked why we decided to get up at such an ungodly hour, to which I replied "For a laugh." We got off at Ammanford and had to wait one and a half hours for the bus to Carmarthen, but at least this time we would have plenty of enough time to have fun there. The only places in Ammanford that were open were the bakers (Jenkins on the left and Greggs opposite it on the right), Specsavers and Tesco. It was so early that only old people were awake and everyone looked at us as if we were Christians. We stuffed our faces and played in the park before jumping on the bus that was full of old people. Half way through the bus journey, I did my dislocating thumb trick to counter Ashmlee Willie Winkie's more disgusting dislocating thumb trick, and the nice guy behind us (that Ashmlee Willie Winkie had given the time to earlier) said, "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be looking or anything, but that's weird." I was so embarrassed and said, whilst bright red, "Well at least I didn't do the one where my foot is the same level as my head..." I remained red for the rest of the bus journey. Nothing much happened in Carmarthen. I popped in about ten clothes shops looking for a reasonably priced shirt to put over my vest top and I could only find one that was anywhere near my price range, but they only had sizes sixteen, eighteen and twenty, not the size eight that I am or the six ten that I like in shirts. We met up with my sister for a bit and then got a bus back to Llandeilo to walk down to Ashmlee Willie Winkie's house so he could pick up his copy of Fantastic Mr. Fox because I really wanted to watch it (especially since Jarvis Cocker has a song and a minor character called Petey in it). I loved it. There was a digital copy, a DVD and a Blu-Ray version of it in one box, so thanks to the digital copy, I now have it on my iPod. I never thought it would be so funny, and it's only one hour twenty minutes. We could've watched it in the time that we spent in Ammanford waiting for the bus to Carmarthen and still had ten minutes to spare! We then watched my Saturday night programmes (Doctor Who, Britain's Got Talent, I'm In A Rock 'n Roll Band) before going to bed. He went to bed on top of my bed in the sleeping bag that we bought him last year and I went to bed in my parent's stupidly comfortable bed. Pa told me to not sleep on his side because I have 'disgusting sleeping habits', so I didn't, although I still managed to make a dribble lake on his pillow which wasn't intentional! Oops.

Oh, and quickly to add, I've been talking to 'Mr. Shit, I Haven't Got A New Name For Him Yet And The Old One's Inappropriate' about my latest Cameron and Clegg Fantasy, and nearly died of laughing when I typed the following on his wall. I just thought I'd share it with you because I nearly died of laughter!

He glares over at Nick, and instantly all of the unfinished paper work and the state of the economy meant nothing to him. He just wanted to cradle Nick and take away his hurt pride. Nick shook his head and left leaving David alone with his thoughts and his HARD ON!

♥

Cameron and Clegg

So yeah, this just came on the news and I thought it was quite sweet. I seriously want to read some fan fiction about the to of them - I'll need a detailed, tense, heartbreaking romance with some politics and tough decisions thrown in amongst sex and restraints and as little Gordon Brown as possible! It's not that I don't like him, it's that I don't find him at all persuasive, seductive or lovable, so he can just BACK OFF OUT OF MY NEW FANTASY! Thank you very much... Today was my last day of school. I now know what I'm doing at A level, I've lately made a new friend who makes me buzz, and I'm getting rid of a few people out of my life. So overall, the general mood is relief but with a tiny bit of nerves about the gruelling exams.

The Night of David Cameron's Victory

"What the hell are the Liberal Democrats doing going to bed with the Conservatives?" Smooth Mr Television Reporter Interviewer Man.

"Do you know what the deal is here then?" "Absolutely no idea." "Oh... Well why have you come in here then?" "Because I was told to." David Dimbleby, you have such grace... Please! Just tell me your secret!

"...and the Liberal Democrats have decided to swallow it." I don't even know what that was about but it took me by surprise!

Yes yes, David Cameron has become Prime Minister, that's all very good and everything, but like I said to Mother, hardly anything to do with British politics is going to be as historic as American politics. But the only bits I really remember of the night are the news reporters going mad! Oh and the Queen's face beaming whilst she shook David Cameron's hand...

BLESS HER ROYAL LITTLE HEART!

How Best to Describe Myself

So my friend and I were talking about how my group of friends are incapable of keeping secrets, but not in a bad way, in a helpful way (apart from once, but that wasn't me and it was in spite). Our secret telling orgy revolves around juicy secrets that aren't hurtful and don't really cause complications. In fact, Lady Hammett seemed quite proud of my latest secret telling orgy because I'm good at getting results. Anywho, on a camping trip which I didn't attend a while back, they all played a 'rating game' that I love to do with Lady Hammett - looks and personality out of ten. It's up there just above Snog, Marry, Avoid. One of the group gave me a two in personality, and somehow I managed to not be offended, just curious. So I asked him in Business (which was during our secret telling orgy), and he said, "No - it wasn't a bad two, I just don't like your personality." Basically, it's not an 'urgh you suck' personality, it's a 'what the hell are we meant to do with you?' personality. I know what I mean. He said I was usually 'too controversial' which I think's fine. Anyway, I replied with, "So it's not an 'urgh you suck' personality, it's a 'what the hell am I meant to do with you?' personality - like a really cute dog that drags it's arse across the carpet." I was serious, but when I was repeating everything to Lady Hammett, we nearly died of laughter, and I hadn't realised how bad it truly sounded. Well, somebody on formspring said to me "Do you know that you're a viper, whose words and actions act like venom in your fangs. Yo may sink them in as delicately as you must, and your prey may think nothing of your bite at first. Bus as time seeps in so does contamination, and eventually death." That didn't have the desired effect though, because I thought it was amazing and okay, so it sums me up perfectly, but it made me feel pretty powerful at the same time. Hell, vipers are so powerful and they control by fear, that's not the desired affect that I want, but it's an affect. So there's a contrasting simile and metaphor both describing me. Take your pick, they both apply. Anyway, I'm now going to change my 'About Me' section on facebook to say exactly what I think of myself as being like:

a really cute dog that drags

it's arse across the carpet

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.

My Stroke of Genius in the Bath

So Kennedy's a cat, the following has many references to the Cuban Missile Crisis, Cleo's a hypochondriac. Any comments, suggestions and improvements are welcomed.

"No matter how much I want to, we can't keep him Winston, it's not fair on Kennedy. He's agitated and this is his home. This should be a place of relaxation. Besides, the dog doesn't even have a name."

Laughing, Winston said, "We could call him Khrushchev."

Cleo laughed too at the reference. She felt a little knot in her throat and a growing fondness for Winston. She blinked hard and said, "They can't work out an amicable decision though, not without Kennedy ending up with less than he began with anyway."

"True true," Winston said, chuffed that she'd understood his joke. "The only thing he can lose is his home, and that's not right. I'll put an advertisement in the paper then, and keep him at my house for a week."

"And then?"

"And then I'll try my hardest to let him go. I know it's like the enemy forming connections to you that are too close for comfort, but please don't set up a blockade!"

They mockingly shook hands. "I don't aspire to damage relations Sir, EXCOMM and I have learnt from past mistakes. You have my word."

Laughing, Winston went to take the newly-named Khrushchev to his house, and Cleo slumped on the couch in confusion and panic over her new feelings. She'd never felt like that before - was she ill? She made a note to herself to visit the library soon.