won't retreat or delete.

Its been quite a while since i've done one of these, hasn't it?

It was funny reading my last one actually, from October. It's always funny to look back at a point when you were just not in control of yourself at all, not the bad bits, but just the points when you were trying to live normal life. It's like no way, dude. No way. You were fucked, you had no chance! haha.

enjoy drugs in moderation, is all i can say. That and... don't lose your head too often.

It's two thousand and ten now, which I find pretty exciting... new things, new times, new experiences, new places. I get to leave school this year. Thank fuck.

my history teacher called me "an enigma" in my report, which i found amusing. Kept going on about me being "elusive" and stuff. I'm not that mysterious, alright, i just went quiet in a few of your lessons.

This blog doesn't have very good (ok, doesn't have any) structure to it. Sorry. I've slept for a grand total of seven hours since thursday and I'm finding it a tad hard to concentrate. Yeah, the insomnia's playing with me at the moment. Big time.
But it's okay.

Everything will be alright in the end, and I believe that. Don't ask me why, I can't rationalize it, but i just know. I just believe it's going to be okay.

Honesty.

i'm listening to honesty by attack! attack!, sitting on my bed, trying to manoeuvre myself into some position where my neck and my back don't cane, and thinking about how i really really ought to go now.

i'm supposed to be walking down to the doctors so i can get my second HPV jab. Then i need to walk to work and do that, which will involve mopping the floor. This is a harder task than it sounds, especially trying to do it well.

i went to see my favourite band again on tuesday night. this is always a good thing. i also went to stay with daisy's relatives up in cumbria over the weekend. we hung out with irish punks. this is also a good thing.

i'm not really going into detail, cos... well, cos i'm thinking i oughta go soon and not get too into writing this. i might do a decent one later after work, i might not. who knows? I doubt anyone actually cares. And that's not me on a downer or being self deprecating, it's honesty. I don't live my life online, and not that many people like me. it's okay.

i probably won't write one though. i'll probably just go out. i'm doing a lot of that lately. going off without sorting things out first... coursework is piling up, word documents are shouting at me in my brain.

i can't help it. every time i have a night in it feels like i wasted it.







sometimes i wish i didn't have pictures of you all over my wall.

I know we will always be moving.

You can't tell anyone everything about yourself. You have to keep some things back so that you're still you're own person. If you share all your secrets, every inner working of your heart and mind, then what have you got left for yourself?

the closer you get with someone the more you see. the more you learn in life, the more known unknowns you come to realise exist. the closer you get to someone, the more you realise you will never know how it feels to be inside their mind. you're just connected to them. to their heart. and it aches. and it takes. and you don't know what to do.

it's like... the more books i read, the more books i hear about that i haven't read. and i know i can never read all the books in the world and i'm ok with that, i'm happy with that.

but the more i know you and spend time with you the more i know you the more i know what it's like to live your life, and yet i realise more and more that i have no idea what it's like to live your life. i can't put myself in your shoes. i don't know how to help. and it's like it's killing me. like it's killing us.

it won't, because i don't intend to just let us go, but... yeah.
this shouldn't really be a blog. but it is.

i don't know what to do with us. and i don't know what to do with me. mostly i feel like i'm coming apart at the seams, but it doesn't hurt. i'm just...floating around, millions of tiny body parts all over the place. obviously i'm talking pretentious metaphorical bullshit right now. you knew that, right?

basically, i don't know who i am. that's hardly surprising though, right? teenager and all. i'm still just another one of millions, another young and arrogant face.

and i believe people i shouldn't. i believe magazines with their pictures of their thin girls. and it's all bullshit. it's wrong.

i honestly believe our entire culture has a warped view of some things, so extreme that no one can see the truth. it's like, i'm probably incredibly naive but at least i know it. just things like food and eating. "fats" are "bad" but without them we wouldn't survive. It's because we've become so incredibly warped in one way- fats and sugars being the "nicest" foods and the "treats" and our tastebuds craving that side of the spectrum. and then suddenly they're also the "Bad" ones that you only have occasionally. we're just... we're fucked. we're totally fucked. and i want there to be a way back, but i don't think there is, until everyone -and i mean
everyone cos there's no point otherwise- realises how fucked we are. and wants it to be right again.

it's not going to happen, is it? It's not the end of the world and i can't see it from here but i can see we're on our way.

could be snappier.

just realised,

i haven't changed since i was five. still like making everything up in my head. still don't like being told what to do. still fixate on particular foods. still think boys are icky and should have to stay away from me unless i say so at all times.


seriously. boys. ICK. ICKY. I DON'T LIKE THE MALE RACE.
except for the few exceptions. which consists of select welsh boys(and honourary ones), MJ, my dad and my granddad.
no, actually, don't like him either.

i suppose doctor who's alright.
still broke rose tyler's heart though.
fucking bastard.
x

For the last 13 hours ish I have been mostly sat at my laptop with a blanket wrapped around me. A lot of it has involved watching Lostprophets live videos. Not even the good quality ones from Reading or whatever, the really shitty ones someone's done on their own camera. But I like them a lot, because they're usually really close to the stage and even though it's all shit quality you can feel the energy, you can feel it.

So... i've got the majik blanket. Gone through plenty of emotions and thoughts, ranging from feeling shit to excited and little bits of hysteria popped in once or twice.

Mostly I've just been sort of expressionless though. Bit apathetic.

There are things I should just be grinning about, though... well, i blame hangovers and... hormones. I'll get off my arse by 2PM and have a nice afternoon. I am promising myself this.

Ha. Aled Philips just said he might mosh.
I'm pretty sure he's joking.
I hope he is, for his own sake. He doesn't seem like the type to... no.
Just no.

But! It's sunny. I'm meant to go over my best mates soon to... get drunk. In the sunshine. Lostprophets gig, tomorrow night. Lostprophets gig, night after. I mean, things could be so much worse. Could they be much better? Probably not.

So why can't I seem to smile properly?

I don't know, but I feel like a moody... self indulgent teenager who just isn't trying. Am I trying? Yeah, I'm trying to smile properly. I swear it. It's just not fucking coming out well.

I have a bruise on my chin. It hurts. But I have no right to complain, seeing as it's a DRI. Complaining about drink related injuries is like complaining about a cut you did to yourself. Yeah, it might hurt and the nicer people might give you sympathy but at the end of the day you did it to yourself.

You do it to yourself, you do. And that's what really hurts.

Lol, radiohead. It might be a bit of a dangerous time to listen to them, what with it being sunny, summertime, and gorgeous. They might make everything cloudy, raining and miserable again.


Maybe. Or maybe not. Either way, i'm not risking it. Just in case...

I need a bath. I feel really skanky. My hair isn't actually greasy though, so I think I can get away with leaving it till tonight.

In the meantime... I'm going to take superblanket (Yes, i have named it) to Daz's... go out somewhere nice where the sun shines and get pissed. Lalala, what an imagination the youth of today have.

Lately...

I couldn't think of an original title for this blog. I'm never really that good at titles. I try not to just steal from other people but eh, sometimes you have to just name a blog about the song you feel like listening to on repeat. : )

So... yeah. Summertime n'all... I don't know when I last did a blog, mostly because I keep going on the website (when on the net on my own), staring blankly at this empty space and then spamming twitter.

Anyway.

Spent the first weekend of the summer holiday with Daisy dearest, which was awesome... though I think yelling at God he didn't exist and to smite us (blame cider) might not have been a good idea. Honestly, soon as I got home my internet connection refused to work. The weather was normal. No storms, nothing. It just... wouldn't work for like an hour; and that's not the first time in my life something kind of freaky has happened. Maybe it was just coincidence, but I'm too open minded to truly believe that.

It's difficult sometimes to remain open minded without being so open minded your brains are liable to fall out, isn't it?

Anyway... then MJ came up and I spent quite a bit of time with the two people who i'm not related to and love most in the world. What did it result in? Well, lots of laughter, cheese "toasties", strawberry liqeur (nicest thing in the world, believe me!), some other stuff, trilby hats, chips, laughing at the chavs on my estate who stood in a line and stared at us and having heads down the toilet quite a bit.

Not sure I can think of a better way to start a summer off. Oh, went to two festivals too... one of which was freeeeeee. Cardiff big weekend was awesome because it was free, I liked all the bands, and we met Aled Philips! Haha, and this time it actually involved talking to him, not just him walking past and me not realising because I was so fascinated with a can of coke. (read: me jumping about while wearing what can only be described as a hippy jumper whilst he brushed past and left quickly, probably terrified.)

The Square festival cost about £40, but I reckon it was worth it. Though we couldn't camp in the end... because some twats jumped on our (already sick) tent, with us inside! We decided to abandon ship... I wanted to headbutt the bloke who did it but no one else seemed to think that would be a good idea, and we didn't see them anyway.

The wonderful thing about festivals is that you can go watch a band with no presumptions whatsoever, becuase you've never heard of them before. They might turn out to be total drivel, absolute shite, or they might be terrific. Fight Like Apes and The Joy Formidable are two bands who slot into the latter. We were lucky enough to catch TJF again at Cardiff Big Weekend, less than a week later I believe. Kerchiiiiiiiing!

And I can't remember the names of the shit bands. We went and looked at fun stuff while they were on anyway... or to the beach.

If I don't manage to be a published author or a van driver when I grow up, I might open a sandwich shop that stays open till like 5AM in a teeny tiny seaside town. Seriously. It was genius.

I don't like shandy though. That was a discovery I also made.

Uh... so what next... after cardiff big weekend we went back to MJ's. I was there for a few days, happy as larry, whoever he is, then suddenly one morning i'm sitting there listening to HU and BLAM! I getta phonecall off my mum telling me I have another sister!

Wow. That's what i said. It was a better reaction than last time, trust me. So asap (well, next day but shush) i jumped on a train back up to Ludlow and met little Sunny Rose. She was gorgeous, is gorgeous. Lalala of course my mum was right in saying that as soon as she was born we'd all love her and things wouldn't seem to matter as much...

However, there IS still the issue of now having 5-6 people living in a three bedroom house. I'm sure we'll survive.

I haven't done any holiday homework yet. I'm sure I'll survive.

BEHIND YOUR SMILE FORGET THAT I WAS LEFT WITH EVERYTHING.

...Ahem... *Controls and composes self*

Basically, I met up with my ludlow friends while I was there.. some of it was lovely. Some of it was disappointing. I shouldn't let myself even care any more, I should know that twats will be twats will be twats. Urgh.

It's fine. Anyone who was twatty didn't get any of my cider. Ha.

Moving on... came back down here, hung out with Susie and Ellie also (lovely to see them both, and it's a travesty Peterborough isn't closer!) and... saw a LOT of Lostprophets videos.

Lostprophets.
It's this month. It's the month where... although I do control this beast and chain her up 99.9%of the time, a screeching, screaming fangirl bursts out of me.

But only when the loud songs are playing so she can scream along with the lyrics. Honest.

I really could be a lot worse. At Cardiff big weekend a girl next to me (while A!A! where playing) honest to god, no exaggeration, spent the set SCREAMING Ryan Day's name. Seriously.

Love, he doesn't care about you. And your big straw hat is uneccesary in all this rain, not to mention annoying with the way it keeps hitting my head.

...flashbacks are great.

Anyway! Where was I? AH! LOSTPROPHETS! Undoubtedly my favourite band, one year yesterday since I last saw them live, two years and four months minus one day since I saw them live for the first time, and nine days until I see them two nights in a row.

Did I mention I'm a loser?

Hahaha. But.. without sounding too much like a teenieslashstalker, they're a band that matter a lot to me, have mattered a lot to me for a long time (well, a long time for someone as young as I) and if they go on mattering this much to me until i'm past 18, I might just immortalise that in ink.

I'm on about a tattoo, by the way, not writing them a letter.

Right... well I've blathered on for long enough. my life is still composed of it's general elements and containing it's usual factors... shorts with tights, being under the influence, welsh rock bands, sunshine, yelling "fuck you" (SOMEONE IN A CAR WHISTLED AT ME. WHISTLED. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? *ANGER*), midnight missions, the written word, and... overthinking everything. : )

August is a month where I always do my best not to come down to earth. I know it'll hurt when I come back to earth with a bump in september, but fuck that because it's far ahead in the future and anyway the whole world might just implode before that and the worries and plans I make in advance could all be for nothing, absolutely nothing.

Bai. X

Crispy crunch, chewy munch!

Alriiiiiight, lalala, haven't done one of these in a while, starting it off in the usually brilliantly eloquent fashion where i make my sentences too long and nonsensical and pretty damn immature. Woo.

I do always have this fantastical view of summertime, as if everything changes around now and my whole life is just perfect. When no, that's not quite the deal. The weather's nicer and I have more freedom. Things don't necessarily get a great deal better than usual.

I mean.. sure, i've had some great experiences since i broke up from school. I've been under the influence, been to a few festivals, wandered around Welsh towns, spent ages with MJ, got a new lovely sister and met one Aled Philips. : )
And i'm not done having fun, there's still Lostprophets and i'm off to Salisbury again tomorrow, so that's cool.

But the general things that bother me? Yeah, they're still there. School's out, which does improve things hugely, but there are still things that upset me. Because I'm upset too easily and I shouldn't be so damn sensitive and quick to temper. But I don't really know any more, I can't tell if i'm overreacting or if my behaviour is justified.

But I... I just hate anything that's made into an offensive joke about my sexuality. I know my friends aren't about to string me up and try and tell me i'm wrong or whatever, that they're all cool with it, and perhaps that should be enough? But one friend in particular drags it up every time he can.

"Normal girls do that."
"what do you mean, normal girls?" My hackles raising at this point.
"you know, girls who aren't lesbians." -insert immature smirk-

I hate it. He doesn't understand and probably doesn't care how difficult the last year and a half has been, how fucking painful it all was, how goddamn messy my head gets over this. It shouldn't bother me and it shouldn't matter but frankly, it does. It bothers me that people can pick on me and judge me and get away with it all, just because I'm not really into cock, and most people in authority are not willing to deal with these kinds of problems.

Last time I complained to a teacher about a homophobic comment a kid had made, the teacher just started turning it into a "well, you're probably gay yourself! ;D" style joke. Until I told him he was a wanker and to go fuck himself and walked out of the class.

Why is this another blog about sexuality discrimination? Why? I've spent so long on it, i hate it, i'm never going to eradicate it, no one wants to listen to me talk about it any more. no one round here, because frankly it doesn't directly affect them, so they don't give a shit.

This is becoming negative and probably kind of whiny, not to mention repetetive. I'll just give it up now.