the older generation..

 There's a standard in society, in which your position in relation to it can determine the respect you are given. So you may be lovely, intelligent and the most caring soul in the society, and you often try to make yourself presentable by applying some colour to your cheeks and some length to your eyelashes, but because of this unnecessary addition to your face you are seen as being in par with those that must have little common sense, lack any genuine personality and wouldn't stop to help an old man pick up his dropped bags so that they can return to facebook more speedily.

Surely that's not fair, right?

So yes, damn those [chavs] that sit on pretty much the doorstep of mcdonalds and round the back of kfc, setting out a name for all of us kids.

..fuck your often-occurring, unfair judgements.

aaaawr,

you write such pretty words




but life's no storybook

John Lewis makes me jizz in my pants.

I bought a card there with this on recently, just because I admire the photograph.

The card won't be used, nor touched. It will be just a pretty picture - even though it's the exact opposite.

I couldn't possibly tell you what it is that I like

(because I don't know)

and after all that,

..I didn't even get to label the heart or the body's main muscles or the skeletal system or the spinal chord sections. I actually wanted all the more complex and biological aspects to appear on this exam paper, since I'd spent the whole day re-drawing/labelling exactly that, but there was nothing. "Nothing?" P.E teacher asks. Yes - nothing. Bummer.

Last night was quite unheard of, I'm sure of it. I saw a heap of inspiration in Tesco. Yes, really. The store is changing. There are no longer the really friendly adults working on the till, that make genuine conversation with not only the parent but the child they brought with them to assist them in packing the bags (thanks Dad). Although, that would be an 'unfair test', because this is Waitrose I am referring to. Yet, I'm sure today they also see the problem of newly-employed girls that spend more time fixing their fringes and looking out for their few hot male co-workers, than scanning your items or  being helpful in anyway. Hm. It's also become more apparent that, despite all the trolley parking zones that I think reach zone D, people find it too tiring to even attempt to return the trolleys to any helpful location. I'm one of the few (not that I ever see anyone do the same, I've only judged by seeing the three, maybe four other trolleys in the now very open space of the trolley parking zone) that puts the trolley I used into the allocated area. Like, I'm sixteen - why should I even care to do so? But when you see thirty-somethings leaving them in the pathway that's just wide enough to fit a wheelchair or buggy through, you wonder and hope that your own maturity and respect is appreciated. And if not you ask why you bother going the extra mile... Well, 20 steps, say.
            But then sometimes I can be so care-free. Sometimes I think, 'what the fuck' - as in, 'sure, why not' kind of 'what the fuck'. That can be nice though. Not caring that your hair may lose its fixed position, or your feet may lose their feeling until you return home early the next morning. Just go with it, I tell myself - it's fun.

There's this urge within me to be really creative and decorate a room, but to do it spontaneously - skip out the planning (very un-characteristic of me, yeah). I'm also desperate for a room in which I can do whatever, so long as it has four walls, a door, a chair or sofa and a little table with a little lamp, but so that there's a reasonable amount of floor space.

Putting together a book with random bits of materials and other people's inputs (can't believe I'm saying this) is really quite rewarding, and such a productive/good use of time! I usually go for the straight-forward, neat look, and have always thought that if you want something done, do it yourself, or it will never be how you wished for it to be. Which I still believe. But you see I'm putting together a book of this year. Starting with leavers' day and everyone's tear-starting messages (the original concern regarded others' hand-writing. I'm such an ignorant bastard, I know) - thought it'd open up this scrap-kind-of-book nicely, somehow... ha. So it's pretty much a summer thing, if we ignore October onwards. It's a little exciting, actually. Thing is, there's only so much I can do with it, until summer really arrives. I've done a little something with some of the messages that have been written, but I need so many more yet, but have limited time to collect them!

 

     So for now I'll just revise (as I should anyway), with the occasional blog, many cups of tea and the odd glance at the TV.

"my trouble is i analyse life instead of live it"


:).
(that's a 'not anymore' smile)

I never thought I'd again run down the street in a red and white checkered summer dress, matched with awkardly and uncomfortably patterned, white knee-high socks. But it happened, almost... (the socks didn't reach my knees, damn it). I should probably add that it was leavers' day (hence the outfit), and the bus was kind of really early (hence the running).
       Even though the tears flew out of my eyes, yesterday was such a lovely day - reading through how people felt (in my little book) about the concept of not sharing so much time together anymore, and reminiscing with the people that mean most was so reassuring, almost. It was having everyone hug you and tell you just how much they'd miss you and why. It was different. It made me feel a little good about myself, I guess. It was nice.

       I later went to the cinema to watch The Last Song, which also led to helpless crying and snotty sleeves (just kidding, thought the alliteration would add a little 'jazz', no? :')). It took a while before I got over the initial 'oh but this is just weird' phase, and then it hit me. I don't want to ruin it for any of you that have it in your diary to watch, but the ending got me. It made me think a lot about my own situations, and how useless you must feel when you lose someone so key in your life. Ah. Good film, though.

Which reminds me, I must watch The Notebook again. I can't believe I only watched it for the first time ever this month! Crazy.

Happy Wednesday.

happy

birthday.

Is it too late to make your wish once you've watched the smoke from the candles fade away, after hurridly blowing them out in race to beat Alex?

Shi- Today, though, I did have a happy birthday. And I've learnt that the lower my expectations of something - the greater its outcome, generally. Today showed me how lovely my friends are and how well my mum can shop for me without the usual, detailed and direct list. So, today, I was happy, and it was my birthday. Ha, wow.

P.S. I feel the need to justify my sanity: I'm not depressed or anything, no. It's just that I tend to have fairly poor birthdays, but got lucky and had a nice day this time round.