postgrads living at home with their parents on the dole...

i hate it when you have strong opinions on something you dont really understand.

ive had my eye on a bag for ages.

huge, waterproof and light blue with a fancy scribbly flower pattern all over it, at £20 it was a reasonable price but still something i needed to persuade myself i had worked hard enough for.

after my seventeen hour shift, i went to get it.

im not a fan of retail therapy, shopping gives me a headache and makes me feel drunk so i avoid it at all costs and in any case, every stupid purchase i make now could mean one less day living in canada next year... that is really what it boils down to.

however, this bag cheered me up. i have needed a decent one for ages and taking everything out of my old one which was falling apart and putting them into this shiny new one was the higlight of my sad little life for an entire day.

i can see how buying materialistic items works for people, but i am lucky enough to have a best friend who sends me beautiful letters which begin with things like "oh hello scarecrow" and follow with the sort of words which make you realise that even the paper they are written on and the ink they are written with really means nothing because something invisible and immeasurable exists which makes nothing hurt quite as much as it ought to.

i would sellotape everything from my bag onto my clothes for my best friend.

"i am very proud that you have become an adult but when you come home can we be children again? and break into the village hall and play with that lion and eat playdough and laugh like we are the most important thing that has ever and will ever exist...?"

nothing else matters.

today as I sobbed into my Grandma's arms over unimportant misunderstandings and sat down to dry my eyes as Dad explained what Milton Keynes was, I felt a little bit safer again.

i like to think we are going to protect each other.

we accept the love we think we deserve

This morning when I opened my eyes, one of my best friends from home was staring back at me, smiling.

I've been sleeping with kyanite under my pillow again so I thought it was all a dream, not a beautiful surprise.

bored of being jealous of the reckless

I realise now that I only felt alone because I was disappointing myself by looking in the obvious places.

yesterday i did lots of things in 22 hours and i felt tired and happy.

today i did nothing and i still feel happy.

with dramatic ease
i fell to my knees
and soon enough
you were sick of me

why i laugh when i am sad.

kurt vonnegut rightly identified laughter as potential responses to frustration and exhaustion.
osho said you could not control an ecstatic man.
misery loves company, but laughter is infectious.
i will continue to laugh, even if it must be instead of you or in spite of you.

when to keep a friend

"That's not an answer, love. I know I'm the kind of guy you hate till I'm inside you but like it or not, I don't like to think you're in a bad way."

i dont want to be satisfied with my job forever, but while i have nothing else to wake up for, i am so grateful that i enjoy it. ive had far worse after all, and even then it has never been that bad.

today a middle aged couple came in when it was quiet so i went out of my way to help them, partly for the (very selfish) reason that i knew it would make me feel better about myself.

"you're ever so happy today, why are you so happy? have you been taking happy pills? oh it's lovely to speak to someone who is so happy..."

well goodness me. i was having a horrible day, i had recieved some terrible news on my break and even before my break i was messing everything up and feeling a little out of focus.

for the rest of my shift i smiled.

their kindness had such a lovely knock-on effect, i almost didnt want to come home.

i really want to be with my cat and hear her purr so i know i am safe and everything will be ok.

"...truer than all subsequent loves because it never had to survive real life"
-The Virgin Suicides

last week was one of the worst of my life.
it wasnt that anything particulaly bad happened, the whole affair was just utterly suffocating.
my little hamster died, in the middle of us moving house. i know there are a thousand and one worse things that can happen to a person, but watching her suffer and feeling completley helpless, then having to go to work and think about her there struggling on her own was horrible.
we buried her in the meadow and i will miss having her around. last summer she was the only company i had really.
i love my new house, but i am sick of being treated like a retarded 16 year old. my money is as good as anyone elses, and im not a stupid girl. it has been an uphill struggle, but at least i can be proud of myself because it was hard work that got me here.
on the topic of hard work, i secured a high 2:1, which was lovely. right in the middle of so many other problems it felt completley irrelevant, but i know everyone is proud of me which is what really counts.
i dont really feel anything anymore except tired. i have little money and even less fun but at least i am being independent.

the more you let yourself be treated as stupid, the easier it is to believe.

butter kissed

i havent acted out in a while...

i had a choice between sensible and brave and i chose brave because i would rather learn something new and be piss poor.



it is going to be a six month non-stop struggle.

wilde thing

Pt. III, st. 29
And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats,
None knew so well as I:
For he who lives more lives than one
More deaths than one must die.

I reckon one of the useful things to learn is how to become less self absorbed and more self aware.

bored and ignored

imagine a deer drunk in headlights,
hi.

everybody looked so weary
but we still managed to laugh

hello, i dont fit in.

i really really miss my cat.

on leaving university

I thought I would feel more. I thought there would be plenty of leaving parties and last hugs goodbye, but there wasn't. People just started to fade away, and I continued to go to work everyday, completley unaffected.

Perhaps it will hit me when September comes, and I realise that we will never sit in a classroom together again, or make a trip to the local pub in between lectures, or laugh and share hangovers and stupid in-jokes. I think that because I am not leaving myself, it doesn't feel like such a huge step. It is nice to return from a long shift and think "well that's me done then, goodnight."

Just before I left for University, someone told me that if I walked out of their front door we would no longer be friends. I called their bluff and left, and we didn't speak for a year. When my Mum found out I was walking home in the middle of the night she came and picked me up and for the first time in our lives, we had a heart-to-heart. She told me what was on her mind, and I returned the favour. Mum said that she thought uni would be good for me and she knew I would be fine because I had always adapted really well to change. I imagined myself to be someone who would find change hard, but over the years I have realised that it affects me so little that it is almost worrying.

I like to be able to fret about tiny things, huge things just seem to happen. I suppose it will be the tiny things I miss most too; Coffee with Chris, laughing with Claire, having a cigarette with Joe and wondering why we weren't closer. Bumping into Alexia and Laurena when we were all late for lectures, and always getting something out of even a really small conversation with them. Sitting on the rock while the lads smoked roll ups and let me join in their crude and hilarious conversations as an honourary man. I'll miss Georgia, because I don't think I will ever meet another person like her.

So yes, the tiny things will creep up on me and demand I feel their absence, but nothing really feels any different.

sometimes all you can do is cover your walls in chalk.

last time i looked in the mirror i was a naive little girl with colourful hair who was scared and excited to be going to university.

now i wake with swollen eyes to panic about council tax before i can get back to sleep,

i work 16 hour shifts not only because i really need the money but because i have nothing better to do and like having people to talk to.

i cry quickly without noise and on my own.

(people could make the fuss i dont want to cause and tell me everything will be ok,
but then i would just whisper you don't know that
and they would say i was only trying to help.)

i dont want people to see me as a weakling and crying in public is a bit awkward really. besides, ive written worse on a blog, what is anybody going to do?

my whole day is governed by trivial calculations... how much money do i have for food, how much would cheaper broadband cost split between two, how much am i saving on a bedsit with bills included if the rent is extra, how many calories have i had, how much change does that man need, shit... how many calories have i had again? how much is a cappucino sachet worth if i buy a box of ten, how much is that saving if i stop drinking takeout coffee in town, how many calories have i had NOW, how much is the bus home, how many hours sleep will i get before a ten hour shift if i walk, how many calories will i fail to burn if i dont, and on and on and on and ive always fucking hated maths.

the only thing holding me together is the knowledge that i am trying my best, i KNOW i am.

i could fail and end up jobless and homeless, (and every week until christmas it will be at the front of my mind) but at least i am trying to live in the real world and not taking a step backwards just because it would be convenient.

when i look in the mirror now, i remind myself of the part in slaughterhouse 5 when the old lady says to her son,

"when did i get so old?"

i have more on my mind than in it.
and erm, no one to talk to.

box

here

when words won't do

i had a very difficult conversation with my best friend yesterday,
he couldnt understand why i could easily accept that for five months i will run myself down into the ground, he says i am making myself ill.

how can doing the right thing be wrong?

I don't know who I am but I'm pretty sure it isn't the person living here.

I know this doesn't belong on the world wide web but I don't have anyone to talk to about it in real life (I don't suppose I would talk a great deal about it even if I could) and I certainly don't have much to lose.

At 21 years old I have spent so much time worrying about the way I look that I have let myself turn into a bit of a monster.

Everything is out of proportion with everything else because I keep losing and gaining weight at the wrong pace and in the wrong places, and it doesn't even matter because nobody noticed or cared either way.

I still get out of bed every morning to go to work or finish my university deadlines, I still have friends and I am still alone. I am probably still healthy, but not as healthy as I once was.

In a year, nothing has changed on the outside, but I have wasted a lot of time worrying to myself. The worst part is, I'm not done worrying, not even close.

I guess the point of this is to quote something I heard once;

"If you can't be a good example, you can be a horrible warning."

On the plus side, at least it shows how lucky I am. If I had real problems I wouldn't have time to waste worrying about something so trivial.

goodnight.

when my final piece of work for uni is handed in i will write a blog about the desperate housedykes and justify why i like them.

poor tinies

Why do people view awful things differently when it involves animals instead of humans?
We all breathe, their emotions are as valid as ours and no less real.
This made me so sad.

As I sat outside the bar where I had eaten breakfast and dinner and drank too much coffee and tea, I realised I was shaking and couldn't read the name of the place on the sign properly.

This was when I realised how close I was to a burn out.

Please, if it is going to happen again, let it be after my deadlines and not during a shift.

I can't think at all.

it has all gone too fast.

if i stop to think too slowly

i will cry and i won't stop

and it wont help.

all i have to say on the matter

"You're looking awesome, seriously. But be careful."

narcissists who don't govern themselves

any examples?

i watched a video of dad spinning me round with his hands, me squealing like an excited piggy to altered images aged 2 in the living room. when he watched it he probably felt sad too that i am grown up now.

then i watched one of grandma. she picked me up and held me close and gave me a cuddle. she has been dead for 15 years and i didnt even remember her voice. i got as sad as ive been for a while but this time i cried.

then i fell asleep and dreamed earthquakes and swimming and shattered glass and deep baths.

but i also saw my friends back in cheshire floating around inside my head and when i opened my eyes i was at home.

we lay on a hobo blanket in his front garden.
my legs were in the air.
the flashdance top which had fashioned itself as a dress through choosing a size too big was riding up and revealing the tops of my thighs to the neighbourhood.
his legs lay across mine.
we didnt care.
he drew and i wrote.


he asked me what i wanted to do if i could do anything at all.
"go to canada. become famous. not too famous, just famous enough to matter. then come home and be nobody again, i think that would be cool."
"yeah, that would be cool. i want to have intercourse with barack and michelle obama. i guess your wish is slightly more plausible."
we laughed, almost catnapped, and when the clouds covered the sun we went inside to watch a film.

just a perfect day

i loved that mental jetlag.

my body was sat, arse frozen on my doorstep puffing on a roll-up i wish i hadnt told myself i wanted, while my mind was still 100 miles away on warm grass in the sunshine with everyone who mattered once.

having another place to call home means i can escape and three years are quickly erased. the memories we cant share are wiped clean and all that is left is an easier, simpler time when we were just friends with few real cares or worries, living out of each others pockets with a naive outlook on the world.in a small town you can dream that you will become anything.

tori and stipe

bouncing off clouds
and
near wild heaven

shallow thoughts

gaunt face
doe eyes
licked lips
i want you
i want you
i want you

i love stipe

R.E.M - she just wants to be

It's not that she walked away
Her world got smaller
All the usual places
The same destinations
Only something's changed.

She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.

It's not that the transparency
Of her earlier incarnations
Now looked back on
Were rich and loaded
With beautiful vulnerability
But now she knows
Now is greater
And she knows that.

today i ran again,
across the bridge and down by the river, close to where my Grandmas ashes were scattered.

i stopped for a while to catch my breath, and when i looked around and saw how perfect and peaceful everything was, i felt a few tears buzz and prickle at the back of my eyes.

when i come back here it often feels like i have walked into a distorted dream or a blurred memory.

everything becomes very vivid with a fuzzy border, and i feel upset as well as my happiest.

the part of my stomach which used to ache for people now aches for home... even when i am here.

"Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it, and finds himself no wiser than before... He is full of murderous resentment of people who are ignorant without having come by their ignorance the hard way."

-Kurt Vonnegut

dandy lion

"sometimes when i get in from a night out i think of you both and how you are getting on in leicester..."

well i think of you too.

all the time.

Watching lulu on the tv just now, I got very annoyed. She was talking about the ways plastic surgery can ruin a face, without being capable of moving hers at all. She does look great for her age but seeing a multi millionaire with a great shape and great figure doesn’t mean anything to normal women with regular salaries. I don’t know what I want to do with my life but I am as good as certain it will never involve being rich, so to see a rich women looking great is worse than seeing poor people look terrible, because it shows that it is attainable. The possibility that a woman can look amazing at 50 exists, but only as long as you have a disposable fortune. This impossible goal is cruel, and can destroy self confidence if you use it in comparison with yourself.
What people really need to see is how realistic goals can be reached. This is the point at which I realised how blessed I am to have such great role models.

At my age, my mum definitely had a better figure than me. She lost it over the years, but always manages to look brilliant whatever she is wearing because she knows how to flatter herself, and accessorises with quirky jewellery without making it look like an overstatement. She has never dyed her hair so it looks great, and she doesn’t wear too much make up either, which works in her favour. My Grandma and Auntie on my Dads side of the family look impeccable for their age. Perhaps it is in part due to “good genes” but the fact that they eat well, sleep properly and exercise regularly has to have had some effect on it all. They don’t look “young” because they are not young. They just look great for their age. I don’t want to have a shiny, stretched face with no expression; I want wrinkles that show me as a real person with emotions.

My obsession with weight is embarrassing. After death, being fat is the thing I fear most, and I know that makes me a hideously shallow person. I am going to get old; that much is unavoidable (perhaps if nothing else it will bring some clarity) but the thought of spreading out absolutely terrifies me. Seeing the women on both sides of the family looking as well as they do gives me some confidence. I am blessed that the only things they have wanted me to change are my piercings and provocative clothes, both of which I grew out of on my own. They embraced me being an individual teenager, and always said “dare to be different” So I did. I can only imagine how horrible it would be to encounter adults trying to change how you looked and felt. I hear dreadful stories about mothers who tell girls with perfect figures to lose weight because of their own insecurities, and I hope if I have children I would have the backbone to love them no matter how they looked and not pass on any of my own hang-ups about self image, just the way my family have.

became a fan of...

i was recommended the chinese horoscope application on facebook.

on the first day in months that i came close to exceeding my recommended daily allowance i read this:

Be vigilant as far as your food is concerned so as to avoid taking on weight which would transform itself into horrible folds of fat.

i think the chinese horoscope understands my needs.

one hundred and one

the ice cream van outside is playing greensleeves and i feel like i could burst.

last night was incredible.

the gig at the independent arts centre was ridiculously cool; grace and the magic roots and free control were absolutley brilliant... the visuals that were projected onto the wall behind sally and the band were mesmerising. i really hope that place gets huuuge, it deserves it. what a lovely atmosphere. i met some cracking people!

after that i went to the garage to meet some friends so i could go to a party. one of them smashed a bottle of magners on the floor by accident so i stood around it to stop a lawsuit.

someone asked what it was (duhh) so i told them i was expecting triplets and they were about to come out.

the party was amazing... loads of people i didnt expect to see turned up and made the night. a boy was going round with a fisheye lens snapping pictures of everyone, it was really sweet.

when i ran out of rum i drunk more pepsi than my body had room for, it was great.

i wandered home around 6 or 7 while it was light and pink and blue and my eyes were hazy, but i was so happy. i cant remember the last time i felt this good.

photograph by hanscrystalanderson

today is my half birthday,

the day i went to belgium last year and experienced one of the biggest learning curves of my life

and the day my parents started going out in their second year of university.

i went to bed at 4am and got a call at 5am telling me to go outside. i thought i was dreaming and went to look. my friend sam was stood outside the house with his bike wearing sunglasses. i invited him in and we had a little talk. i read the toon tellegen letter from the squirrel to the ant and then we went to sleep.

i had a dream last night that someone cut off my limbs and i was going to die, and a man took me in his arms and kissed me. i cried and said "thank you for making me feel less undesirable." i told my friends i was cross that i couldnt think of a poem to say as my final words and we all laughed.

my housemate took me into her room today to show me a lilac clockwork bunny with chicken feet called mr. easter... this wasnt a dream.

today in work as i mopped spilt salsa and pepsi with a guy i recognised but didnt know, he said

"i know your face..."

"uh oh. go on then..."

"you're that head media girl"

"oh wow, you basically just called me the king of media!"

"well you are arent you? you gave us that talk about being a student rep, you love media!"

"yeah, media is my boyfriend."

never have i been so proud to be keen.

night night turn out the light one two three

i feel safe when i pay to get a taxi instead of walking home after a late shift,
when i bolt the door twice,
and when my friend tom gives me a great big silly hug.

but sometimes i feel really weak and stupid and wish i had someone to ask me what is the matter? and tell me things will be fine even if they wont just to give me a bit of courage, and then tuck me up in bed and turn the light out.

i was scared of the dark until i was about 18 years old.

my room was like a circus with cheap and cheerful lava lamps, disco lights and spinning UFOs illuminating it all hours... it used to drive my parents mad.

my mum and dad knew i was a bit nervous about having a dark room when i was younger so they used to leave the door wide open with the landing light on, and the last thing they used to say as they left the room was

night night turn out the light, one two three!

and when i was making a cup of tea before i realised how much i missed that.

in sleep is the only way...

i fell into a deep sleep this afternoon and while i was there, i turned round with tears in my eyes and found someone i hadnt seen for ten years standing at the door in my head.

she motioned to me, put her arm around me and walked me through an imagined city.

i asked her why she had come back for me and she said "we were never supposed to be sympathetic but i couldnt forget your big eyes"

...and i was so safe and unaware.

i knew my subconscious was just trying to offer me something i had lost in reality.

when i woke up it felt like i was drunk from my dreams and for a while i couldnt remember who and where i really was.

disorientated, i knew at the very least that i was pleased to have forgotten.

why am i so terrified of waking?

rehearsing...

RE-
HEAR
SING

wow.

I don't remember how to get out of the well.
help.

states of independence

The Independent Press day was absolutley great, but I knew it would be.

Although I have little interest in pursuing my severely limited writing skills after university, I thought it would be foolish to see this as a justification for missing such a great oppurtunity.

I went to a talk by Leicester Writers Club at 11am which was quite insightful. They spoke of their various experiences of success in publishing, which made me wish I had heard the talk before I handed an essay on the literary market in earlier this year. I met one of the writers afterwards, and was delighted to discover that we shared the same passion for keeping our family history alive.

Afterwards i did a bit of stallholding and felt very important and very out of my depth in equal measures. People kept asking important questions, to which i had to basically reply in better words, "i am not a useful or important human being, the people who can answer your questions will be back around 2pm."

At 1pm Some of our class read out their work. I was pleased to find that everyone kept to their 3 minute slots, rather than having to tolerate anyone who struggles to understand how GMT does not slow down for their own REALLY REALLY IMPORTANT reading. Saying that, Nath was perhaps a little bit over but began with a warning and an apology, neither of which were needed considering he stole the show and was definitley the best person to end with. I read one poem and said something about yoda. I didnt mean to say anything about yoda.

The readings by Crystal Clear at 3pm were all excellent too. I met a charming woman afterwards who told me she gets as nervous as I do about reading aloud, which was reassuring considering how confident she looked and the warm feedback she got from the audience. My favourite piece was the poem about the merman by Maria.

I then had a little bit of time to look around the stalls and FINALLY got my hands on not one but two copies of coffee house magazine, which I have had my eye on for a while. I would also like to take this moment to say that I wish I lived in Deborah Tyler-Bennett's wardrobe.

I met all manners of weird and wonderful people picking up pens, sweets and contact cards along the way. There were consideringly less waistcoats and bumbags than I first anticipated (I am not slating either item of course, as a child I was a keen waitcoat wearer and nothing makes sense at an all-day event like a bumbag.) and it was nice to be part of something which had such an electric atmosphere.

I was also allowed the rare chance to see chris partaking in manual labour while we helped with the relocation of over 4,000 tables... sweaty and hilarious all at once.


today won.

He asked us what our favourite work of art was, and never could I tell him it was him.

When I woke up this morning I decided I should listen to a song I hadnt heard for years.


The Art Teacher


As I listened, the song took me back, and halfway through it, somebody sent me a text message out of the blue to tell me they had been listening to the same song and were thinking of me.

tossing and turning

Cliche as it might be, I realised last night that I found something I didnt know I had lost.

I am truly grateful for this, because to not realise how unhappy you are until it has left you is possibly for the best..

It struck me halfway through a sleepless night that I was thinking again as a young person with optimism, not someone who was slowly growing old and getting frustrated with everything in their life. I thought about some of the things that had made me see myself only as hopeless and insignificant, and I cried.

Partly because I didn't understand how someone who had (apparently) been so unhappy didnt cry anymore, and partly out of confusion, because I didn't feel sad about it, rather relieved and a little bit enlightened. I never like to cry in front of people, but i used to cry on my own a lot, and until it hit me i hadnt even noticed this had stopped. The same applies for talking in my sleep.

Instead of feeling upset and lonely, I counted all my blessings, which appeared mainly in the shape of friends I never expected to matter as much as they do.

:)

places in our minds which change with the passing of time will (given half a chance) seek to tarnish what enchants us

relax

it's a soft igloo

and you can't have it anyway.

these ships

are you the sort of woman
who wears make up when you sleep?
does the sight of lipstick on his collar
make you want to weep?
did you realise he was just
another boring metaphor
when he shouted you are perfect
and whispered for a whore...?

is his beauty really wonderful
or carved trouble deep?
did you notice when he said
i do not want you 'till you're cheap
did you think he wouldn't look at you
until he saw your ribs?
did you think perhaps he'd love you
if you tried to shrink your hips?

when he smiles does it hurt
because he paralysed your lips?
will it ruin his career
if you choose to sink these ships?
when you slip your fingers down your throat
do you think of him?
did he let you tell yourself
that nothing tastes as good

as being thin?

its not like i am one

as i sat cross-legged on the floor of the humanities corridor outside my tutors room, i opened my book and shamefully felt every inch the annoying, pretentious student who acted like she wanted everybody to know what she was reading and why.

this was until two girls sat down outside another door, and began discussing their essay in the irritating multi-reigonal yaryaryarlike student accent that spreads like a disease over campuses across the country each year.

"i was gonna like, do about like, women but then like, i thought it would be a bad idea cos like, i dont really know much about it and stuff... like."

i lifted my copy of "the female eunuch" to cover my face and wished it would cover my ears too.

"he said you were the first girl to make him sit up and take notice in a long time, in years."

i have been thinking about this on and off and still dont know how much nothing to keep doing about it.

"when you grow up, your heart dies" -ally sheedy, the breakfast club

to aid the childrens writing assignment i have spent a lot of time watching movies about teenagers in high school because the part of me that felt things strongly and remembers what it was like to be one has conveniently packed its bags and left just when i needed it most.

this photo was taken at the entrance of school.

when i find a day that doesnt involve being in work from 8am-11pm i will edit this post with reviews of the creative writing launch and josie long, who was a genius.

has died

death on facebook is such an odd thing, it really unnerves me.

i found out someone i was friends with had died through facebook two years ago while i was in a room full of people and it was awful.

i saw a "RIP" profile tonight and went on the page of the girl who had died as i didnt know her but we had a lot of mutual friends so i figured that she was someone from home.

she was pretty and young and her passing has obviously had a huge impact on people, but the thing that sent shivers down my spine was a set of pictures "updated a week ago."

rest in peace alice.

I have to admit, I had high hopes for Germaine Greer.

I heard that she was an excellent public speaker and know just enough about her extensive career to appreciate the effect she has had without being able to form an overly educated opinion on her.

Germaine certainly has a way of captivating the audience. Even within a full room with compromised air conditioning and menopausal temperatures, all eyes were on her. Her talk, White and Black in Australia could have become a rant; instead it was an educated, thought-provoking and at times extremely moving account of the problems aborigines face in Australia. Admittedly, it would not be something I would ever think of researching, partly because I was unaware of the issues surrounding it. Germaine Greer brought the talk alive, with perfect timing and expression, and the sort of steamroller passion that I fear has died out in my generation. She did a wonderful job of sincerely exposing her subject matter with insightful knowledge and as expected, sharp wit. Towards the end of the talk I had to swallow my tears... "I think we have missed the boat" was far too poignant for anyone to dismiss. As she famously said herself, “words stay in there forever” and I don’t think anyone will forget White and Black in Australia.


What equally impressed me about Greer was how approachable she was towards the long line of people waiting to speak to her after the talk. As me and my friend Griff were second to last in the queue and had waited (a bit impatiently) for nearly two hours to meet her, I think it would be fair to say that if her patience was wearing thin, it would’ve been on us. Quite the contrary; Germaine Probably realised how awkwardly star struck we were and welcomed us kindly. She wanted to know all about us and complimented me on my afghan coat, commenting that she used to have a similar one in the 60s. This of course made my day, and she was warm to us in the way a person’s relative would be when you wished they were yours. When Germaine Greer had entered the room, I felt an overwhelming sense of insignificance. I realised that stood before me was a woman who had made a real difference in the world, and here she was at my University, asking me what I do as if I mattered. I am fully aware that being in awe of other human beings is an embarrassing trait to possess, but this wasn’t just a bland celebrity with (as my friend Griff puts it) “as much personality as a pair of damp socks,” she was someone who had changed the lives of thousands of women.


This made her talk feel even more genuine, and the night truly unforgettable.

Help I need to jump I said

How high

Came the reply

High enough

To kill my darlings

If you please

Said I

Attending the GRM concert, I was a little apprehensive that it may have turned out to be one of those pretentious clunky noise performances that people pretend to “get” so as not to look stupid. Luckily, it was not. There were clunky noises, but they smoothed out and bounced off one another in really interesting, unpredictable combinations. Everything sounded very strange, but not unfamiliar at all. The performance was a recording in the dark, which suited the mood well. Dimming the lights meant it felt a lot less awkward to close ones eyes and imagine suitably warped images to accompany the noises, plus it minimised distractions to a pleasing level.

The GRM consisted of four pieces. Semaphores by Christian Zanesi, Still by Benjamin Thigpen, Reflets de notre societe crepusculaire by Pierre Alexandre Tremblay and Transmutations by Daniel Teruggi. I won’t pretend for a second to know a thing about music technology, but I could appreciate how intricate the formations of sounds were, and of course how they made me feel. The first thing that sprung to mind was “Oh gosh, it’s like LSD for ears.” As if someone was dripping raspberry sorbet on my cochlea, the quirkiness sent my head whizzing sideways with word and image association. At one point I was almost certain that I was about to have a sack of rice tipped down my back. The surround sound was out of this world, allowing noises to circle smoothly around the audience, which was very satisfying and polished.

Some of the sounds I Identified (to the best of my hearing) were waves, a didgeridoo, a door and an orchestra. The best experience by far was the elongated dropping of what sounded like marbles from a bag. The crystal quality of the noises provided something which felt too intelligent for my ears. The pieces fitted around each other well, and sent me into a much anticipated dreamlike trance. This being said, it was not easy listening. The second the audience were fooled into thinking they could drift off to enya-like melodies, a warped trumpet would jump in and demand that everyone sat upright and appreciated each second as a crucial aspect of a painstakingly original creation.

I attended a Creative Writing talk today where a few postgrads shared their work, all excellent stuff, and refreshing to see ex-students doing well after a disheartening year learning about the difficulties within the literary market.

The poems which focues on aspects of the gaming world were especially good, and Mystie from the mountains read from her novel too, which was really interesting and well projected.

Later in the day there was a guest talk from Alexi Sayle.
I have to admit, I didn't know a lot about him, but I do know that he is a big deal and rather funny. I don't mean to be ignorant, I just feel that going to a guest lecture without really doing your research can be quite useful. Rather than building the performance up based on their life's work, you can take them at face value which is free from bias, and learn a few exceptional things along the way. It worked with Adele Parks and Liz Lochead last year anyway.

The talk was rather insightful, and hilarious at times. He had some interesting stories about meeting George Lucas and Harrison Ford. When speaking of rulers, he said that he believed everyone wanted to feel significant and safe- I definitley connected with that statement. He also mentioned that his parents (who were fierce communists) wouldnt let him watch bambi. At the end, my friend asked "how do you become funny in five words or less?"
"Fuck off Shithead" was the reply.

I like the man.

gosh

today was absolutley lovely.

the sun has finally come out again and provided perfect weather for basking on a rock outside the university, smoking roll ups and chatting to all manners of friendly passers by.

i even looked after charlie the dog for a few minutes.

with all my hangovers, i get a period of grinning immensely and feeling really warm and pleased about everything, and although it often follows with shakes and anxiety, it was nice to feel so happy and content with everything.

plus, kissing occured the night before...


he was from liverpool and people call me "fairyworld." it wouldve been a lost opportunity not to sing "fairy...'cross the mersey..."

i know this is innapropriate for the internet, but i dont give a shit. have you seen the rest of the world wide web? (its hardly 2g1c now is it.) i could do a lot worse than a drunken kiss.

everything is temporary

im so lazy with my addictions.

at this moment in time it is hard to imagine a time when i didnt go more than 24 hours without a drink (i rarely find time to drink now)
but it is equally hard to remember how on earth i gave up smoking last year.

i have given up three times this year already, and i know it is better to be healthy and miss it, but right now i dont have time to go outside and forget myself by running through the meadows or drinking in the streets.

smoking on a rainy doorstep is my only current getaway. momentarily it substitutes being around everyone in the picture.


i long for a time when i can holiday again,

i want ghent 2009 back,

i want to play in paris,

i want to surf in cornwall.
The other day i noticed that i am rarely homesick for cheshire anymore and i think this is because the time when i leave leicester for good to go back there temporarily is shrinking right before my eyes so now i am trying to hold on very tightly to something which i spent a lot of time over the summer trying to escape. funny, that.

i would like christmas to hurry back soon...

why oh whyeee

excessive contemplation is a predominant sleep thief.

tweet

like a bird chirping in the rain
she walks home wet
with a smile

orange snow

the other night when it began to snow again i lay in bed staring at the window, which was glowing an offensive shade of bright orange.

i got that safe itch of childhood excitment once more, which i didnt even feel at christmas at all.

people may complain that the snow is grating on them but for me wet feet and soggy hair is a small price to pay for a feeling i thought i had lost forever.

at a risk of looking stupid through knowing no adjectives more fitting,

nature is honest and magic.

"help me! i need to jump..."

"...how high?"

i was nearly lost at sea for a second there.

thank you.

it has to be said

constant smugness really pisses me off... what happened to everything in moderation?

snow was big today :)

lipstick pintglass

whenever the topic of second wave feminism comes up i feel ever so guilty.

i remember one time last year when i asked if there was actually anything left for my generation of women to fight for, and was rightfully met with a set of raised eyebrows and a list.

it feels like my mothers generation fought so hard for things that we now just take for granted, and i often worry that i am unknowingly undoing all their good work by being so lazy and ignorant.

i spent an afternoon reading about third wave feminism over christmas and it makes a lot of sense, but as is always the case with the lack of time to consume useful information for a worthy cause, i didnt understand the complexities of the bigger picture, and didnt know enough to make a valid opinion on it all.

i cant stand the blank face i can feel myself pulling when someone makes a reference that i dont understand, or the awkward silence that follows one of my unwanted opinions.

it is things like this which make me feel very detached from everybody.

dogs and pregnancy

i have been having very strange dreams again.

i dream that dogs are smothering me... it always makes me uncomfortable but kind of safe.

i dream that i am pregnant. sometimes i think to myself in the dream "this cant be possible" and the baby just goes away with the notion that it couldnt possibly exist. one time i realised i had to get an abortion and it was so terrifying that i had to wake up...

these dreams are perhaps the result of sleeping in a very big dressing gown in a cold house and drinking too much herbal tea before bedtime.

valentines day

doesnt anybody ever get bored of being smug or bitter on the 14th?

it seems that everybody is either faffing about buying useless presents, trying to compete in romance with one another or pretenting they dont care until they are so drunk that all they can do is send cringey texts to people who couldnt care less.

i think valentines day can be useful because if society didnt pressure certain types of people for at least one day of the year, some poor bastards would never get anything.

i also think it is a complete waste of time for single people to get defensive and worked up... it seems selfish to boycott something meant for for happy couples because of lonely jelousy.

and what does 1 day matter? surely it is the other 364 you should be bothered about?

i wish everyone would stop trying to prove themselves to each other and just get the hell on with it...

it is pancake day on tuesday, start planning your fillings!

"you are always causing trouble"

perhaps,

but at least i am self aware enough to realise when i am being irritatingly smug, flaky or pretentious... i am being smug about this right now, just so you know.

this is what smug looks like.

you really cant win can you.
if you keep something to yourself, it eats you up and makes you bitter.
if you share it, you are bitching,
and if you are honest, you are trouble.

sometimes i really want to grab a few induviduals and shout

OH MY GOD YOU ARE JUST AS SHIT AS I AM!

because i dont remember anyone in this world having the authority to let them think they were anything else.

i am so so sad and nobody knows

writing a blog really is like sending a message in a bottle.

be my twitcher.

find out what one is, then become it. i might love you.

<3

i sideways vee and three you

"claire, sometimes i think i just made you up"

yesterday i finally had 16 hours lying in bed in my cheshire bedroom to read "the perks of being a wallflower" by stephen chbosky. it is the first time for many years that i have done any of the above, and it was lovely. finally, i read a book that listened to me.

the other night i spent the early hours of the morning watching the extras on the mary poppins dvd. there was some video and sound extracts from the premiere and it was fascinating and really quite magical to watch... nobody seemed real. julie andrews is such a gracious swan, i love everything i know about her.

two christmas miracles: rage against the machine got to number one... i ate my weight in sin and lost half a stone.

fade away the shake up

tomorrow i go home.

psssht

how i wish i was rainkissed more often.

oh.

i now realise that my writing isnt worse, i am just better at spotting all the glaring errors without having yet developed any sort of talent whatsoever to amend them.

erm...

cat vacuuming? OHHHH.

this makes plenty of sense.

http://whatever.scalzi.com/2006/04/27/10-things-teenage-writers-should-know-about-writing/

the trick is to keep breathing

today i noticed my first wrinkles. they are on my forehead, which assumes that i have been very surprised for a 21 year old. regardless, wrinkles mean that your body is tattooing you with the notion that you have had a lot of a useful emotion... why cover that over with a blank stare?

i wear very little makeup these days.
most of the attractive women over 40 that i have the pleasure of knowing do not wear much makeup and they look better for it.... better than they believe they look. most of the girls my own age look best first thing in the morning and dont believe this either.

i know my appearence is all downhill from here. i struggle daily with my weight to the point where i am given embarrassing labels and the girls around me always look far more beautiful than i do, effortlessley.

the least i can do is make sure i dont look pretend.

selfish

quiet little fireworks

i would really quite like a cigarette.
i dont need one i guess, i just think i do.
i have already looked all over the house twice, and even though i know there arent any, i will still keep looking.

all i want for christmas

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQH7972wAj6wkdHs0BkOSJG5DpqSUMSTCntgOk_3mRdRWzKItofkABF8zU-1f5bRrZ91A7RHgkiY5W-BvR3udMADcXdvGDc7EXwxK0eGtt5g4P_3SzTX3zkdYgErSKLn23zc2GMNov48Ur/s320/Sainsbury

and cheshire.


and secretley to be thin, world wide web.

riding in cars with boys

"I'm 22 years old - that's almost 30, and I still haven't accepted that this is my life. And I just wish that I could be dumb. And then I wouldn't know better and I could be happy and stop hoping. And I'm telling you this like you're interested in my boring life."
- Beverly, Riding in Cars with boys

i wish i wish

i wish

someone would show me how to kill my darlings

lectures

yesterday we learned about narcissicm (sp) and now i am very embarrassed.