New year, new challenge

I'm attempting the 101 in 1001. If you don't know, you have 1001 days to complete 101 tasks which you set yourself. Starting on the 1st of January, I have until 29th of September 2011.

Here's my list:

Give blood
Go one month without biting my nails (/30)
Visit Italy
Save £1500 (£100/1500)
Donate money to charity
Be able to say I have read all 200 books from the BBC's Big Read (82/200)
Write a list of 101 things that make me happy (/101)
Take up a new hobby
Learn a new language
Go a day without swearing
Adopt a penguin
Get at least a high 2:1 in my degree
Give up chocolate, sweets and fizzy drinks for 2 weeks (/14)
Learn to cook ten different meals (/10)
Take pictures related to at least 40 of these tasks (/40)
Subscribe to Empire magazine
Go to the gym three times a week for a month (/12)
Stick to my weekly budget for three consecutive months (/12)
Get my provisional driving licence
Have at least one driving lesson
Clear my credit card
Watch 100 films I have never seen before (/100)
Stay in a relationship for over a year (4.5/12)
Take my Alkaline Trio live total to 30 times (15/30)
Empty my wardrobe and take all unwanted clothes to charity shops
Watch the sun set
Get a new tattoo to do with literature
See Symphonie Fantastique live
Go to the theatre 4 times in a calendar year (/4)
Update my blog once a week for a calendar year (/52)
Go to the opera
Get a First Aid certification
Go one week without the internet
Read 5 books published in 2000 (/5)
Write in my personal diary every day for three months (/60)
Style my hair properly every day for a month (/30)
Use my skincare products twice a day for a month (/30)
Eat only food from my house (no buying chocolate or takeaways!) every day for 2 weeks (/14)
Watch all 100 of the AFI’s 100 years, 100 movies (19/100)
See a Shakespeare play at the theatre
Read 5 Shakespeare plays I have never read before (/5)
Write ten new poems (/10)
Complete an internship at a magazine
Run for charity
bake a cake
Get a manicure
Identify 25 things I like about myself
Transfer 10% of every paycheck into my savings
Get a place on a Masters course
Decide on my PhD subject
Participate in the Jack The Ripper walk
Write a list of 20 sights around the world which I want to see (/20)
Visit at least 5 of them (/5)
Write 10 letters to my boyfriend (/10)
Host a themed movie night
Travel first class
Buy a copy of “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”
Own a copy of every Dickens novel
Go two weeks without wearing a single band t shirt (/14)
Make my bed every day for three months (/60)
Get up at 7.30 every day for two weeks (/14)
Complete a crossword
Go one week without complaining (/7)
Make a list of my twenty favourite albums of all time (/20)
Eat vegetarian for one week
Go to the dentist
Try ten new foods (/10)
Put £2 in my savings for every challenge completed
Donate £2 to charity for every challenge not completed
Have 30 Disney films in my DVD collection by the end of the 1001 days (10/30?)
Have a board game party
Attend the graduation ball at QMUL
Feed the ducks
Own every Tim Burton film currently available on DVD
Upload 5 photos to Deviant Art every month for 6 consecutive months (/30)
Visit 5 museums
See a film in IMAX
Finally meet Ben!
Listen to every song on my IPOD
Call both of my parents once a week for two months
Buy a new laptop
Make a list of all books and DVDs that I own
register to vote
Wear my stilettos in public 5 times (/5)
Watch a live burlesque show
Ask Tom to think of 5 challenges for me
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Ask my parents to think of 5 challenges for me
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Pay my Nan the money I owe her from my house deposit
See Ross Noble with Emily
Buy a new necklace
Wear make-up every day for a week

I got so scared that I forgot my name

or so busy that I forgot about my blog. I think Skiba was more poetic about it than me though. This post won't make much sense. I apologise.

So. The end of 2008 is upon us. As I welcomed the year in a bar in Manchester, I promised myself that it would be the best year I've ever had. And honestly, I think I pretty much managed it.
University has gone well. Whilst I haven't really felt like I've worked much so far this year, I've kept on top of everything, and I've even started writing my dissertation. I've paid for this with a lack of social life (I've been working at the SU a LOT), but that is a resolution for 2009 taken care of.
Things with Tom are still wonderful. 4 and a half months have flown by, and spending Christmas with his family last week felt so natural. It's a good feeling.
My family seems to be self-destructing a little. I can't really say much in blog format, especially since I currently have literally no idea at all of what's happening. Needless to say, it's not helped with my sleep trouble.
Cub has been brilliant, editing a section is exhausting but as I now have my replacement ready to be trained the weight is definitely lifted. Shared, rather than removed. But lessened nonetheless.

I've also restarted my LOVEfilm account and will be buying a new Genesis pass, so film reviews are inevitably going to return to this page.

My 2009 resolutions:
1. Make more of an effort with my friends - friendship works two ways and I apologise profusely to everyone for being such an ass recently.
2. Write more reviews.
3. Put 110% into every remaining piece of university work - I need to get a fantastic grade or I'll hate myself forever.

I'm sure there's more, but those are clearly the important ones since they come to mind most readily.

I'm going to continue reading Romola whilst listening to Stephen Fry's very soothing voice.

Soco Amaretto Lime

You're just jealous 'cause I'm young in love

So I lied when I said I'd keep on top of this. I'm back in London, trying to work and failing miserably. I move into my house a week tomorrow, although with mother otherwise occupied I'll be continuing to live on the contents of my suitcase for yet another week. Which means no cooking equipment, no bedding and, most terrifyingly of all, no DVDs. Thankfully that week happens to also be Fresher's Week so at least I'll be busy.

My summer ended well. A new (fanastic) boyfriend, my favourite band overcoming severe heartbreak to show me just why it is I love them, a weekend up to my knees in mud watching some incredible bands whilst being in what can only be described as an horrific mood with my friends...and then I came back down South.

Life is good.

It's been a long time coming

and you'd think I'd have more to say. Not having a job for the entirety of my summer has meant that I've done very little other than go to the gym. I waitressed at both the Golf Open and the Tatton Park Flower Show, and I've been out every Saturday night for around 5 weeks now. And that's it.

The Dark Knight is quite probably the best film I've ever seen in my life. So good that I can't even begin a proper review. Perhaps one day I'll manage it. For now, I need only say that the acting was superb, the effects almost equally impressive and the entire world of Gotham as seen by Nolan is perfection. I'm so very pleased.


I'm going to read Watchmen for the rest of the night and actually keep on top of this blog from now on. I promise. Back to London for 2 nights in 14 days. I can't wait.

Over the fear and through the flames

I've got a few different things I want to do today, so I'll try and attack them one at a time.

1) My life for the last week. Once again, I can't confess to having done anything noteworthy. I visited Quarry Bank Mill on Sunday, under the pretence of needing to start my dissertation research. Strictly speaking, this wasn't the best place to start, but nonetheless I enjoyed it. The history of the mill is wonderful. I also took my new camera out for the first time, which is always good.
Dad's giving me photography lessons over the summer, which should be fun. I only take pictures for fun, but it would be nice to make the most of the cameras I have and their many settings.
Gaz came round on Wednesday, which was shocking to say the very least. We watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and talked about a variety of things, none of which mattered in the least. I just appreciated the company and the fact that Gaz had taken the time to come to me for a change.
Tomorrow I'm going out for the first time in a good long while. I plan to drink a fair bit and forget my worries for one night. It's only me and Jennie, but still, it beats another Saturday night at home.

2. I want to start adding in music reviews to this blog. So here's the first. As Dave said, I can hardly remove the bias from this, but I shall try my best.
Agony and Irony - Alkaline Trio
Yes, they're my favourite band of all time. Yes, a variation on their logo was my first tattoo. Yes, I debatably love them more than anything else in life. But stepping down from my "I *heart* Trio" soapbox for a moment, I still see this album as something special. It's different in a familiar way. Anyone who loves the catchy melodies and upbeat rhythms of From Here To Infirmary can hardly find fault with songs such as "Calling All Skeletons" and "Lost And Rendered". Whilst the punk purists will lament the high production levels, each song is polished to perfection without detracting from the emotion and power of the music and lyrics. Dan Adriano's songs are arguably stronger than Matt Skiba's, particularly late addition "Do You Wanna Know?". The band have clearly matured and found their sound as a collective entity, accepting that they are no longer 20 year olds and singing songs about the things that matter to them in their adulthood. I for one couldn't be happier. 9/10.

Obviously that was going to be a favourable review, perhaps my next one will have considerably less bias.

3. Another meme from Erykah.
“To participate, you grab any book, go to page 123, find the fifth sentence, and blog it. Then tag five people.”
I won't tag 5 people, but here we go.
"The story of Turin's madness after the slaying of Beleg, the guidance of Gwindor, and the release of Turin's tears at Eithel Ivrin, is here in embryo".
J.R.R Tolkien - The Book Of Lost Tales Part 2

4. Films!
The Lives of Others was a brave film to make. It's nearly 20 years since the Wall fell, but really that's no time at all. These sorts of issues (the existence of the Communist state and its dependence on surveillance) are still at the forefront of a lot of people's minds and memories, luckily the risk paid off. The contrast between Wiesler and the other members of the Stasi was handled wonderfully, and was played in such a subtle way that one can hardly help feeling a connection to him despite his position in the secret police force. Very enjoyable, if a little difficult to follow at times due to subtitles. 6/10

Pan's Labyrinth is rightly acknowledged as a modern classic. Del Toro takes the fairy tale world and brings it together with the horrors of modern warfare in a way which makes both worlds seem equally terrifying. Without wanting to give anything away, all I will say is that this is one of the greatest films I have seen ever. Wonderfully acted, with perfect cinematography and a deft handling of subject matter. 9/10.

aDulthood, like its predecessor, delves deep into the subculture of the London estates and emerges on the other side with a positive message. Noel Clarke, acting as writer, director and leading man, has achieved something quite remarkable. Whilst remaining naturalistic in the dialogue and setting, aDulthood combines humour and violence with heartwrenching situations and a message to "the youth". No one could accuse Clarke et al of glamourising gang warfare. 7/10.

I've also rewatched a number of my favourite films - True Romance, Pride and Prejudice, LOTR, and finally got around to watching Fight Club one last time to give it a final chance to wow me. It finally did.

Where did you go when the lights went black?

So Trio just posted their entire album on Myspace. I can finally listen without guilt. And I am SO glad I waited.
I don't know what I expected. Before I heard any of the songs I really thought I'd be disappointed. I thought there'd be a few songs I loved but the rest would be bland. I've never been so wrong. There's only one track I'm not too fond of, the rest are magnificent. Like all the best bits of my favourite songs put together in one superb package. I cried a little, I won't lie.

Best. Year. Ever.




Oh and I have an interview to do some rubbish sales and marketing thing next week. I hate myself.

Completely forgot to add the bold to that setlist.

Born to be my baby.
Always.
Blood On Blood.
Dry County.

Those ones are from my top 5.

These five words I swear to you

Bon Jovi. Oh my god.
Living On A Prayer.
Born To Be My Baby.
Keep The Faith.
It's My Life.
I'll Be There For You.
Blaze Of Glory.
Wanted.
Bad Medicine.
You Give Love A Bad Name.
Someday I'll Be Saturday Night
ALWAYS!!! <3
Have A Nice Day
Who Says You Can't Go Home?
Sleep When I'm Dead
In These Arms
Dry County
Diamond Ring
Blood On Blood
I'd Die For You

The 4 in bold are all from my top 5 Bon Jovi songs. They played 4 or 5 songs off the new album too, but compared to last time that's nothing. I was over the moon. Always was my favourite song for 8 years, it was just stunning.

Other than that I have little to tell. I went to the gym on Friday, I finally had a shift at work on Saturday. I worked in a suite at Haydock Park, made £11.80 in tips which was pretty sweet. It wasn't a hard shift, so really I can't complain.

Yet another development in the mess that is my love life. I've changed my mind yet again, and come to a decision which actually works. I feel considerably better.

Whatever happened to that silly dream you had?

This week. Much the same as all the weeks before, truth be told. I've come close to making a decision about my trainwreck love life, although recently I'm falling back towards yet another guy I can't have. These things seem to follow me.

I've been to the gym a lot and applied for a lot more jobs. I'm bored and restless, and I don't like it one bit.

Over the past few days I've watched Finding Nemo, Batman, Batman Returns and Monsters, Inc. All fantastic films.
Today is Orange Wednesday, so I saw The Incredible Hulk with Jennie. Whilst the dialogue was stilted and lacking a lot in the way of emotion, a superhero film (in my eyes) doesn't need it so much as it needs fantastic action and a good villain. Both of which Hulk has. Wonderful. 7/10.

Erykah tagged me to do this. I only know of 2 people who read my blog so I shalln't bother tagging myself, but as I was commanded, I shall do as I'm told.
List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they’re listening to.

1. Pink Roses - Glassjaw It just came on my WMP and I absolutely adore it. My favourite Glassjaw song, I never get tired of it. Plus, it's coming up to a year since I saw them and I'm in pure nostalgia mode.
2. Murder - Ashlee Simpson I love Ashlee Simpson a fair bit. This is my fave song off the new album and I seem to listen to it at least twice a day at the moment. Partially because it's on my gym playlist and partially because I just love it.
3. London Bridge - Fergie I don't know. I really don't. I just can't stop listening to it.
4. In Vein - Alkaline Trio Nearly time for the new album. I'm resisting downloading the leaked version, so I've stuck with the EP and this is my favourite song on it.
5. Jetlag - Frank Turner Easily the most beautiful song I've heard in ages. Stunning. Not much more to be said.
6. We're All Alone - Architects I haven't seen them in a while, and with Ghostfest being a possibility I started listening to them again. In my opinion, probably the best song they've ever written. Not my favourite, but their best.
7. Wake The Dead - Comeback Kid Tune. Simple as. Listen to it in the gym a lot and at home to get me excited for seeing them next month. Even though I'm already excited.

I'll do a proper blog update soon maybe. I don't have much to say.

In an attempt to get the creative juices flowing again, I did a freewrite this afternoon. I spent five minutes writing on a title given on allpoetry: The inconvenience of being uninspired. Whilst the freewrite itself was nothing special, I took my highlighter to a few phrases which echoed my feelings quite accurately whilst simultaneously continuing my previous writing style and giving me room to write more.
I came up with a flowing prose...thing. Shocking that an English student has no idea what to call this. Anyway, I'm glad that it's the first thing in my new notebook, because I think it very accurately describes myself and the processes I'll be going through to write again.

My thoughts are unpoetic. What runs through my head is not unique or beautiful. I am not visionary. I cannot fill these pages merely by willing the words to appear. Each rounded, looped, crossed and dotted letter is the product of a mechanical thought. That which is mechanic is forced and planned - it can never be poetic.
If I were a great Romantic I would dedicate every line of this book to the muses, to Classical deities long forgotten and never believed in. I am a cynic in an age of atheism; the muses have forsaken me because I choose not to believe in them. A fair and mutual agreement I think.
I am not a great Romantic. My thoughts are unpoetic. Each curl of my hair does not drip assonance and similes. My blood does not cry out in metaphor or apostrophise an absent lover. My heart does not beat in iambic pentameter, my pulse has no foot. There is no romance in my body, just as there is no poetry in my mind.
Beauty cannot inspire me, yet it moves me. My soul craves melody, harmony and song. I no longer sing with my own words.
I need beauty in all things, but I am not a Romantic. I am no aesthete. I am not a poet.

They found me face down in the street

I've spent the last two days reading, basking in the sun and listening to my favourite band. My new phone arrived, and I played darts. That's all. Whilst I would normally be twitching to do something by now, my sleep pattern has left me appreciating my lazy days considerably more than usual.

Tomorrow I'm spending the entire day with Jennie, doing girly things and joining the gym. I've gone far too long without any kind of exercise, and I need something to fill up some time and get me out of the house. We'll see how it goes.

Films. I'm putting off the PT Film Club review for a little longer, as we're still waiting for a fair few people to watch the film and make discussion worthwhile. Today I watched The Aristocats, a classic Disney film (despite there being so much of Robin Hood in it!). Really there's not much more you can say, childhood films are wonderful, particularly Disney classics. I've just finished Children of Men. I can't quite decide exactly how I feel about it. The uprising scene is fantastic in every way, and almost makes up for the rest of the film failing to really grip me as it probably should have done. I think the problem is that, as far as visions of the future of mankind go, I've become rather too well acquainted with V For Vendetta, and find this to be considerably lacking in many of the things which made that film so great. Clive Owen is quite good, although on reflection he hardly speaks. Perhaps that's why. On a scale of 1-10 I'd say a generic 6 - nothing special, but not particularly apalling either.

I hope this is goodbye

I change my mind everyday when it comes to him. I know I'm a fool, falling for everything he says when I know it's all lies. And yet, every time he comes into my life I do the same thing. The more I can convince myself that I'll never mean anything to him, the easier this whole business will be. I can't do this anymore.

On a more positive note, I found a job. Another hospitality agency, much like the one I work for in London, only this one deals primarily in sporting events. With four offices around the country, we get to travel around a fair bit (with travel, accommodation and food paid for by the company if we have to stay somewhere). I'm looking forward to getting my first job emails through tomorrow, I'm itching to get out and start working. We get paid weekly as well, so I'll be able to get into my budget habits again. In theory at least.

I spent yesterday in Liverpool at DM's gig. Well, in truth I hardly spent any time at the show, as Sheen and Chris kept deciding to go wandering and I went with them. It was good to see Sheeny again, our regular 6-month catch up as we're beginning to see it. We talked about old times, pop punk and messed up love lives. Considering it was the first time I've met Chris we got on really well, mostly because we have a similar taste in music. If it means I don't have to go to The Black Dahlia Murder alone on Wednesday, I shalln't complain. Seeing DM is always wonderful, it's just a shame it doesn't happen more often. Although this year we appear to be setting a new record for actual face-to-face interaction.

I watched Elephant earlier this week, but I'm going to hold off on reviewing it, as I want it to be my choice for the PT film club. Speaking of which, I'm watching this week's right now. Review in a couple of days once the discussion is really under way.

Telling myself it's true

I spent last night with him. A boy who means more to me than I've ever liked to admit, even to myself. Recently I've come to realise that people change as the times change, and that maybe someone you once never believed can now be trusted. This theory will be put to the test over the next few weeks, I'm sure, but for now I'm playing it by ear. Which is not a process I enjoy. Needs must however, and I'm happy just to have him back in my life. We drank, we talked, we watched films and we laughed. I love Leeds, and it really is an option for my MA. But looking deeper into the courses today, Sheffield stand out so much more. Any course where I can study realism, Russian literature and the evolution of Chartism is clearly tailor made for me. But that's another bridge to be crossed later.

Films.
Yesterday I watched La Vie en Rose, an absolutely fantastic biography of Edith Piaf. Whilst subtitled films obviously require much greater concentration than my usual fare, I found that I was still able to connect to the characters and tragedies on the screen. In terms of cinematography the entire film was evocative of its era, lush yet muted colours which truly suited the time and place of the action. Marion Cotillard was a revelation, and I understand the Awards buzz around her now. Wonderful.
Today has been a mixed bag. Black Sheep is awful. That's all that needs to be said. The Lost Boys, whilst enjoyable, felt distant to me. I felt no real interest or connection, and merely treated the film as something to look at rather than watch. Bright Young Things on the other hand was phenomenal. As with La Vie en Rose, the entire cinematography and feel of the film created the period setting so wonderfully that I almost felt as though I was enjoying the decadent '30s myself. Funny, smart, colourful and sarcastic in a way that screams of Mr. Fry, any film involving James McAvoy and David Tennant could hardly have failed to disappoint me.

Crashing inside you like motorbikes

Now that I've removed the choler from my system with my earlier post, I can focus on the more day-to-day things.
I moved home yesterday. Whilst I'm happy to be back somewhere where I don't have to worry about bills or cooking, I'm a little restless already. My concentration is non-existant, I'm struggling to find a job, and my creativity is at an all-time low. I'm going to set myself some poetry tasks to start writing again, although admittedly I've said that repeatedly this year. And last year. And the year before.

I watched the first Punktastic Film Club film last week, and as our discussion has started now, I'll post my review.

Sharkwater is not the type of film I would usually watch. Despite this, I found myself drawn into the plight of the sharks by the passion of the filmmaker and the sheer beauty of the shots. Combining the pure emotion of the anti-finning community with scientific facts aiming to confront the negative image of the shark, against the brutality and stupidity of the hunters and governments supporting the finning trade, the documentary manages to both inform and move the viewer at the same time. For someone who had no idea about the finning trade and the extensive nature of shark hunting, such as myself, the film provided an encompassing view of the entire problem. The final screen informs us that 15,000 sharks have been killed whilst the film has played - 15,000 in 2 hours. Pause for thought indeed.

I am not afraid to keep on living

It was inevitable. I've ranted to various friends about it so much that a blog was bound to happen. So here it is.

The death of Hannah Bond has sparked yet another debate into the influence music has on people's lives. The poor girl happened to be a My Chemical Romance fan, therefore the band must be responsible for her depression. Yes, I am a MCR fan, but I'm going to write this in a completely unbiased way. Although I am listening to The Black Parade as I write. But that's just because it's a very good album.

The "suicide cult" of MCR, as it was termed by that pillar of journalistic integrity, the Daily Mail, is ludicrous. This is a band who use every chance they get to speak out against suicide and self-harming. A band with a very large following in the difficult teenage years of people's lives. A band with possibly the most passionate fans I have ever met in my life. A band who truly care about the impact their music has on the lives of their fans. The Daily Mail of course chose to ignore the various quotes I could use to support my argument, and which the Black Parade in London on Saturday publicised very well.

This has sparked a large level of debate about "emo" music and how it encourages depression, self-harm and suicide in its fanbase. As someone who went through a very dark period as a teenager, and whose life was honestly saved by music, I feel so strongly about this whole issue that I can barely phrase a sentence. Teenagers have a hard time. It's the way it is and the way it always has been. The way it always will be in fact. It's called puberty people. Everyone goes through a learning curve as a teenager, and EVERYONE copes in different ways. I personally withdrew into myself, devoted myself to music, spent all my time and money at shows, lived through the internet and wore more black than usual. I think anyone who knows me will agree that this seems to have done the trick for me - I'm still alive and I have the best friends in the world. I've never hurt myself or anyone around me, but I would by no means condemn anyone who had found self-harm or suicide to be their only release.

What the press seem to have neglected in this whole thing is just why Hannah killed herself. I've just looked through the websites of all the major newspapers and the coverage given by some of them is laughable. The Sun - "She joined the cult based around a genre of rock music with sad themes and emotional lyrics, hence emo. Fans wear black and have dark hair. Many self harm and Hannah was among them". The Telegraph - "Hannah Bond, 13, hanged herself from a bunk bed in her bedroom with a tie believing her death would impress fellow followers of the “emo” movement, it was said" and "She had even scratched her wrists in a form of self-harm often seen as a form of initiation into the popular fashion and lifestyle fad followed by young people who dress in black like their older “Goth” crowd". And, of course, The Mail. Too many gems to pick from. But I personally liked this part, defining the characteristics of the 'emo':
"Emos like guitar-based rock with emotional lyrics.
American bands such as My Chemical Romance, Good Charlotte and Blink 182 are particular favourites."

How anyone could define Blink 182 as a band that are part of a suicide cult is beyond me, and Good Charlotte saved my life. It's that simple. Alongside MCR, GC are one of the most outspoken bands when it comes to suicide. They could never be accused of promoting or glamourising self-harm. Listen to "Hold On" people, you know I'm right.

Hannah left a suicide note, but of course the contents won't be published. This is fair enough, but I'm sure it would shed some light on the issues really at the heart of this tragedy. Her parents seem content to let a musical genre and a band that clearly meant a lot to their daughter be blamed, which to me seems to prove that they really missed the point. This band was important to Hannah, that much is clear. If I killed myself now, would people blame Trio?

Last week a guy from my class at FPHS had half of his ear bitten off when he was attacked by a gang of chavs. Last August, Sophie Lancaster was beaten to death by chavs for being a goth in Whitworth/Bacup - part of my hometown, technically speaking. Whilst what happens in Rochdale is nothing unique, growing up here has given me an insight into the link between music and life. Music and happiness. Without music, I doubt I'd be here now. Music gave me my closest friends, my fondest memories and my greatest dreams. The wider fashions attached to any particular genre of music are optional - listening to MCR doesn't automatically make you dress in a soldier jacket and wear ridiculous amounts of eyeliner, it's always your decision. People want to feel a bond with those around them, and if the bond that they find comes from dressing in skinny jeans and listening to Taking Back Sunday, then why should we object? I know for a fact that my parents were glad to see me and my brother going to shows and playing in a band whilst many of the other kids at our school were getting drunk on street corners and fighting with everyone that didn't worship them. I've never once heard a report of a gang of "goths" or "emos" stabbing a chav for dressing differently. Think about it, and I bet you never have either.

Of course, I'm doing much the same thing as the press has. I'm stereotyping, I know that. But for the purpose of argument, labels are the easiest way to describe what I mean in an instantly recognisable way. Everyone will know what I mean by what I've said above, and that's the point. What I am NOT doing is deconstructing the label and explaining why the components of it are responsible for the behaviour of those branded by it. I am by no means saying that everyone who appears to be a chav would fight, drink or kill, or that the music they listen to or the clothes they wear are responsible for their behaviour.

And that's where I differ from the press. I understand the concept of individual choice and personality determining actions. Music means more to me than anything else, and I will defend it against any attack. ANY music, whether I like it or not.

No musician can be blamed for anything a fan does. They tried to blame Marilyn Manson for Columbine (worst choice of scapegoat ever). Rap music is regularly blamed for shootings and glamourising violence. And now it seems 'emo' is to be blamed for any alternative teenager having issues too great for them to deal with.


This is the worst structured rant ever, but I think I've got a lot of what's on my mind out.

And, stealing from my beloved Erykah, I've decided to keep a tally on my Big Read challenge, and add to it with a film challenge.
So. Ones in bold have already been read/watched.

BBC Big Read, 200 greatest books of all time (I was just going to do 100, but hey, there's 200 on the site so why not?):
1. The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien
2. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen
3. His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman
4. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams
5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling
6. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
7. Winnie the Pooh, AA Milne
8. Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell
9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis
10. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë
11. Catch-22, Joseph Heller
12. Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë
13. Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks
14. Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier
15. The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger
16. The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame
17. Great Expectations, Charles Dickens
18. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
19. Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres
20. War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
21. Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell
22. Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone, JK Rowling
23. Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling
24. Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling
25. The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien
26. Tess Of The D'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy
27. Middlemarch, George Eliot
28. A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving
29. The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck
30. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
31. The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson
32. One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez
33. The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett
34. David Copperfield, Charles Dickens
35. Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl
36. Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson
37. A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute
38. Persuasion, Jane Austen
39. Dune, Frank Herbert
40. Emma, Jane Austen
41. Anne Of Green Gables, LM Montgomery
42. Watership Down, Richard Adams
43. The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald
44. The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas
45. Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
46. Animal Farm, George Orwell
47. A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
48. Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
49. Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle Magorian
50. The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher
51. The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett
52. Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck
53. The Stand, Stephen King
54. Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
55. A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth
56. The BFG, Roald Dahl
57. Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome
58. Black Beauty, Anna Sewell
59. Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer
60. Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
61. Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman
62. Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden
63. A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
64. The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough
65. Mort, Terry Pratchett
66. The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blyton
67. The Magus, John Fowles
68. Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil
69. Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett
70. Lord Of The Flies, William Golding
71. Perfume, Patrick Süskind
72. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell
73. Night Watch, Terry Pratchett
74. Matilda, Roald Dahl
75. Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding
76. The Secret History, Donna Tartt
77. The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins
78. Ulysses, James Joyce
79. Bleak House, Charles Dickens
80. Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson
81. The Twits, Roald Dahl
82. I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith
83. Holes, Louis Sachar
84. Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake
85. The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
86. Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson
87. Brave New World, Aldous Huxley
88. Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons
89. Magician, Raymond E Feist
90. On The Road, Jack Kerouac
91. The Godfather, Mario Puzo
92. The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel
93. The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett
94. The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
95. Katherine, Anya Seton
96. Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer
97. Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez
98. Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson
99. The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot
100. Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie
101. Three Men In A Boat, Jerome K. Jerome
102. Small Gods, Terry Pratchett
103. The Beach, Alex Garland
104. Dracula, Bram Stoker
105. Point Blanc, Anthony Horowitz
106. The Pickwick Papers, Charles Dickens
107. Stormbreaker, Anthony Horowitz
108. The Wasp Factory, Iain Banks
109. The Day Of The Jackal, Frederick Forsyth
110. The Illustrated Mum, Jacqueline Wilson
111. Jude The Obscure, Thomas Hardy
112. The Secret Diary Of Adrian Mole Aged 13¾, Sue Townsend
113. The Cruel Sea, Nicholas Monsarrat
114. Les Misérables, Victor Hugo
115. The Mayor Of Casterbridge, Thomas Hardy
116. The Dare Game, Jacqueline Wilson
117. Bad Girls, Jacqueline Wilson
118. The Picture Of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde
119. Shogun, James Clavell
120. The Day Of The Triffids, John Wyndham
121. Lola Rose, Jacqueline Wilson
122. Vanity Fair, William Makepeace Thackeray
123. The Forsyte Saga, John Galsworthy
124. House Of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski
125. The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver
126. Reaper Man, Terry Pratchett
127. Angus, Thongs And Full-Frontal Snogging, Louise Rennison
128. The Hound Of The Baskervilles, Arthur Conan Doyle
129. Possession, A. S. Byatt
130. The Master And Margarita, Mikhail Bulgakov
131. The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood
132. Danny The Champion Of The World, Roald Dahl
133. East Of Eden, John Steinbeck
134. George's Marvellous Medicine, Roald Dahl
135. Wyrd Sisters, Terry Pratchett
136. The Color Purple, Alice Walker
137. Hogfather, Terry Pratchett
138. The Thirty-Nine Steps, John Buchan
139. Girls In Tears, Jacqueline Wilson
140. Sleepovers, Jacqueline Wilson
141. All Quiet On The Western Front, Erich Maria Remarque
142. Behind The Scenes At The Museum, Kate Atkinson
143. High Fidelity, Nick Hornby
144. It, Stephen King
145. James And The Giant Peach, Roald Dahl
146. The Green Mile, Stephen King
147. Papillon, Henri Charriere
148. Men At Arms, Terry Pratchett
149. Master And Commander, Patrick O'Brian
150. Skeleton Key, Anthony Horowitz
151. Soul Music, Terry Pratchett
152. Thief Of Time, Terry Pratchett
153. The Fifth Elephant, Terry Pratchett
154. Atonement, Ian McEwan
155. Secrets, Jacqueline Wilson
156. The Silver Sword, Ian Serraillier
157. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey
158. Heart Of Darkness, Joseph Conrad
159. Kim, Rudyard Kipling
160. Cross Stitch, Diana Gabaldon
161. Moby Dick, Herman Melville
162. River God, Wilbur Smith
163. Sunset Song, Lewis Grassic Gibbon
164. The Shipping News, Annie Proulx
165. The World According To Garp, John Irving
166. Lorna Doone, R. D. Blackmore
167. Girls Out Late, Jacqueline Wilson
168. The Far Pavilions, M. M. Kaye
169. The Witches, Roald Dahl
170. Charlotte's Web, E. B. White
171. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley
172. They Used To Play On Grass, Terry Venables and Gordon Williams
173. The Old Man And The Sea, Ernest Hemingway
174. The Name Of The Rose, Umberto Eco
175. Sophie's World, Jostein Gaarder
176. Dustbin Baby, Jacqueline Wilson
177. Fantastic Mr Fox, Roald Dahl
178. Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
179. Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, Richard Bach
180. The Little Prince, Antoine De Saint-Exupery
181. The Suitcase Kid, Jacqueline Wilson
182. Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens
183. The Power Of One, Bryce Courtenay
184. Silas Marner, George Eliot
185. American Psycho, Bret Easton Ellis
186. The Diary Of A Nobody, George and Weedon Grossmith
187. Trainspotting, Irvine Welsh
188. Goosebumps, R. L. Stine
189. Heidi, Johanna Spyri1
90. Sons And Lovers, D. H. LawrenceLife of Lawrence
191. The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera
192. Man And Boy, Tony Parsons
193. The Truth, Terry Pratchett
194. The War Of The Worlds, H. G. Wells
195. The Horse Whisperer, Nicholas Evans
196. A Fine Balance, Rohinton Mistry
197. Witches Abroad, Terry Pratchett
198. The Once And Future King, T. H. White
199. The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Eric Carle
200. Flowers In The Attic, Virginia Andrews


And the AFI 100 years, 100 movies:
1. Citizen Kane (1941)
2. Godfather, The (1972)
3. Casablanca (1942)
4. Raging Bull (1980)
5. Singin’ in the Rain (1952)
6. Gone with the Wind (1939)
7. Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
8. Schindler’s List (1993)
9. Vertigo (1958)
10. Wizard of Oz, The (1939)
11. City Lights (1931)
12. Searchers, The (1956)
13. Star Wars (1977)
14. Psycho (1960)
15. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
16. Sunset Blvd. (1950)
17. Graduate, The (1967)
18. General, The (1927)
19. On the Waterfront (1954)
20. It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)
21. Chinatown (1974)
22. Some Like it Hot (1959)
23. Grapes of Wrath, The (1940)
24. E.T. The Extra Terrestrial (1982)
25. To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
26. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)
27. High Noon (1952)
28. All About Eve (1950)
29. Double Indemnity (1944)
30. Apocalypse Now (1979)
31. Maltese Falcon, The (1941)
32. Godfather Part II, The (1974)
33. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975)
34. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)
35. Annie Hall (1977)36. Bridge on the River Kwai, The (1957)
37. Best Years of Our Lives, The (1946)
38. Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The (1948)
39. Dr. Strangelove (1964)
40. Sound of Music, The (1965)
41. King Kong (1933)
42. Bonnie and Clyde (1967)
43 Midnight Cowboy (1969)
44. Philadelphia Story, The (1940)
45. Shane (1953)
46. It Happened One Night (1934)
47. Streetcar Named Desire, A (1951)
48. Rear Window (1954)
49. Intolerance (1916)
50. Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The (2001)
51. West Side Story (1961)
52. Taxi Driver (1976)
53. Deer Hunter, The (1978)
54. M*A*S*H* (1970)
55. North by Northwest (1959)
56. Jaws (1975)
57. Rocky (1976)
58. Gold Rush, The (1925)
59. Nashville (1975)
60. Duck Soup (1933)
61. Sullivan’s Travels (1941)
62. American Graffiti (1973)
63. Cabaret (1972)
64. Network (1976)
65. African Queen, The (1951)
66. Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
67. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966)
68. Unforgiven (1992)
69. Tootsie (1982)
70. Clockwork Orange, A (1971)
71. Saving Private Ryan (1998)
72. Shawshank Redemption, The (1994)
73. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
74. Silence of the Lambs, The (1991)
75. In the Heat of the Night (1967)
76. Forrest Gump (1994)
77. All the President’s Men (1976)
78. Modern Times (1936)
79. Wild Bunch, The (1969)
80. Apartment, The (1960)
81. Spartacus (1960)
82. Sunrise (1927)
83. Titanic (1997)
84. Easy Rider (1969)
85. Night at the Opera, A (1935)
86. Platoon (1986)
87. 12 Angry Men (1957)
88. Bringing Up Baby (1938)
89. Sixth Sense, The (1999)
90. Swing Time (1936)
91. Sophie’s Choice (1982)
92. Goodfellas (1990)
93. French Connection, The (1971)
94. Pulp Fiction (1994)
95. Last Picture Show, The (1971)
96. Do the Right Thing (1989)
97. Blade Runner (1982)
98. Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942)
99. Toy Story (1995)
100. Ben Hur (1959)

There's a cure on ice

My father's wedding was beautiful. Brief, but beautiful. My brother and I got teary in a room of dry eyes, many people commented on how "different" I looked (I presume purely because I was wearing a dress. It's hardly a novelty in me these days), and we ate good food. Whilst we left the reception early, feeling a little outnumbered and somewhat out of place amongst the step-family and old school friends, I made sure Dad knew how happy I was to see him so happy. I've honestly never seen him smile that, and it made me smile the same way.

Saturday was spent amongst old friends, laughing and talking and righting past wrongs. In a way. It was something I've missed. They're something I've missed. I need to keep those boys around more.

Sunday I returned to London, and to Darren's. We began our Indy marathon, finished on Monday morning, and I acted somehwat out of character. I'm having a crisis of conscience and personality, and some of the most important people in my life at this moment have been on the receiving end of my snipes and moods. I've apologised, and no doubt will do so again many times. After a trip to Genesis (to be dealt with momentarily), I headed off for a very brief catch-up with Rory before deciding that I wasn't in the right frame of mind for the Big Smoke. I came home overnight and had the laziest day I've had (without a hangover) in a very long time. I feel better already.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. So close to being perfect. So very very close. Having watched the original trilogy before heading to the cinema, I was in the right frame of mind for a slightly ridiculous film, a b movie made on an a list budget, and to that end I wasn't disappointed. Having heard bad things from many people, I wasn't expecting to enjoy the majority of the film as much as I did. The graveyard, the motorbike chase and the jungle scene were all vintage Indy, and as such put a smile on my face whilst I laughed at their stupidity.
And then the spaceship appeared.
As I said, so close.

Today has been productive in one sense - I ordered a bargainous Arrested Development series one (£7.99?! Insanity I tell you) alongside 2 more Disney/Pixar offerings to get me in the mood for Wall.E. Although I don't need to be put in the mood, that little robot has me very excited already. No innuendo meant there. Punktastic.com now has a film club started, where a different member chooses a film every week, we have 5 days to watch and 2 days to discuss. Potentially, it should be amazing. It also gave me an excuse to register at Lovefilm.com, which will give me a fresh store of films to watch, and in turn lead to me deciding exactly what's worth buying without wasting my money. No more repeats of Miss Potter, thankyou very much. First up is Sharkwater, which I doubt I would ever have thought of watching if left to my own devices. I'll be using this blog to post my reviews prior to adding them to the debate on PT, so I'll have something of interest to say each week at least.

Having left my book in Ormskirk on Saturday, I keep meaning to start Don Quixote. So far, I haven't done it. Although today I did watch the last 4 episodes of House series 4. Which was wonderful. Tomorrow I will shop with Jennie, before heading off to see Gaz in Leeds. In theory. If he stands me up, I wouldn't be at all surprised.

Maybe then you will appreciate your only friends

I got drunk on Friday. Very very drunk. I'm not quite sure how I managed to consume so much alcohol, it was very out of character. My hangover on Saturday was painful beyond anything I've ever experienced, and pushed my coursework onto the back burner. My tattoos are healing, and I'm anticipating holy hell from each of my parents individually once they're discovered.

I've made up for that today, with one essay finished and a coherent plan to help slay the final one tomorrow. Work tomorrow night and Wednesday morning, drinks with the girls on Wednesday night and then on Thursday...home. For the wedding.

How did a year go by so fast?


Also, I'm having one of those "Oh dear, I need to work out what I want" moments, in every aspect of my life. I'll never know. I've accepted that.

Blogs have taught me one thing - I work too hard. I rarely have anything to write because I spend my days going from one job to the other. Over the last week I've even managed to avoid any kind of effort in my essays, which leaves me with a mammoth pile of work to attempt on Thursday and Friday. I need to get these essays written, with only 6 and 7 days left until they're due. Almost the last minute by my standards.

The obsession. They were fantastic, but not in the way they usually are. Having seen a mildly disappointing yet wholly predictable set, I giggled and flirted with my favourite people. I wish I'd gone to Sheffield, purely for the better songs they enjoyed, but alas, not to be. They're back in August, I have tickets for myself and my loved ones. I'll have fun.

I need sleep.

Fine time to fake a seizure

I saw Iron Man last night, and it was fantastic. In many ways it was much what one would expect from a superhero film, predictable to some large degree, yet I couldn't help being drawn in. Especially by the final battle, fantastic work.
Deciding to continue my geek-out, I've spent this morning watching Transformers whilst considering the plan for my third essay. Another film which I've wanted to see for so very long, and have finally found time to watch. The action levels are enough to satisfy even the most war-hungry teenage boy, but it is very enjoyable nonetheless. The second one should be interesting.

For the rest of the day I plan to do a little shopping, visit the library to pick up books for the final essay and maybe visit the cinema again tonight to see In Bruges. I may as well make the most of my monthly pass.

Like three blind bats lost in the light

Another week with little to show. I've worked hard at both jobs, finally finished the first two essays...and that's all. I've got a mountain of washing to do, a room to tidy, things to pack, two more essays to write, and a social life to maintain. I overstretch myself, but at least it means I sleep at night now.

Alkaline Trio in 6 days. I'm screaming inside. I've seen setlists that make me more excited than I thought I could be about a 40 minute maximum set. I'm ready. I won't be disappointed.

My social relations are a mess and I honestly don't see the point in trying to salvage them.

We get lost in the blink of an eye

I've done very little of note since my last entry, hence my delay in writing. I'm only doing this now because I know that if I don't, I'll keep forgetting.

Wednesday was spent at Darren's, pretending to do some work whilst watching Firefly. I came home and actually worked on an essay, which in truth is causing more problems - the more I write of the essay, the more I think I should completely change the focus. I'm just going to write and write and see what comes out coherently. It ought to work, in theory.

Yesterday I agreed to work two separate shifts for the agency, solely because I was offered extra money to work in the day. I couldn't refuse. Neither was particularly difficult, and in between I treated myself to Selfridges' ice cream, new make up, film magazines and DVDs. Finally buying True Romance made me very happy, and I plan to watch The Lost Boys soon. As well as that I still have a few DVDs in my boxes which haven't been watched, and I feel bad for neglecting them.

Today I worked at the university, met Darren for chocolatey goodness and spent the evening in bed. With most of my Cub article written and my essay stalled, I tidied my room a little. Not that it made a difference, it still looks a lot worse than it is.

Tomorrow I agreed to 8 hours for the agency before I go to meet Rory for drinks and ranting. I'll come home, collapse in bed and wake up on Sunday to meet mother and Captain Boring as they come down bearing food and an empty car to take away the first load of my belongings. I should start looking for somewhere to live. As it is, I have so many shifts at both jobs next week that it could prove difficult to find the time...

And holiday issues are no closer to being resolved.

These scars are permanent and always on display

Mine are, of course, psychological, but the thought is there nonetheless.
To add to my earlier update with something less angsty:

I've done little today, as predicted. I went to work only to be told to go home and rest. I love my job sometimes. I sat in bed, talking to the friend who needed to avoid his revision and be told what an idiot he is whilst reading The Spectator. I'm ready to start my essay tomorrow, and whilst it will no doubt be disastrous, this is the one course that I'm willing to let my grades slip in. I gave up caring in week 3.

Tomorrow I have Cub articles to write, an essay to work on and general housekeeping type things to deal with. I may take a trip east to see that boy that I can't quite seem to get rid of, and hopefully I'll be able to sort my mind out. Ha. How likely is that?

Things with the holiday are causing problems. I sense friendships falling apart. It's a horrible feeling. But then again, there's very little in my life right now that doesn't give me that feeling.



I want it to be Saturday so I can see Rory and try to work out what the hell is wrong with me.

Can't say I blame you one bit

I told him. As predicted, he doesn't feel the same, although I've finally found out who his mystery crush is. He was a darling about the whole thing, as I should have known he would be. Proof if needed that if he'd just feel the same he would be perfect.

But why should I expect perfect? Nothing ever is for me. I'll never be the one he wants, and recently I've doubted if I'll ever be the one anyone wants again. I seem to be the one people turn to when there's nothing better on offer, but I'm never the first choice. Even amongst my friends it's a feeling I'm getting more and more frequently.

I'm hitting depression again, despite how hard I've fought against it for the past few weeks. This is not good.


I'll focus on the positives. Once I find them. Music. Music. Music. Music. Music.


I'm going to work. I need a distraction. It's not him that's got me down, I only told him to make myself feel better by having the closure I needed. That bit worked. I'm happier about that whole situation. But a lot of the things we talk about make me realise that nothing in my life is how it should be. It hasn't been for a while, and I really can't see how it will be ever again.

What did you expect from me?

I'm feeling marginally better, although I'm sure that has a lot to do with the medication and very little to do with actual recovery. No doubt I should have turned down the shift I was offered by the agency tomorrow evening, but clearly I'm a glutton for punishment. A genius with a headache. A very bad headache.

My laptop has been returned to me, allowing me to pretty much finish the first of the essays. Whilst it still needs to be tidied up, and I'll no doubt add more criticism, it's good to have the bulk of one out of the way. Tomorrow, whilst I should be working, I'll be stood behind the bar reading extracts from the Spectator and drafting my essay on eighteenth-century London masculinities. Wednesday I plan a day of relative rest, although in reality that just means that I'll be spending most of the day lying in bed trying to get through the basic shell of this essay. I still need to tidy my room more, and begin packing. Mum's coming to take away my things this weekend, although not all of them.

Walking around today listening to radio-friendly pop punk and indie, with the sun shining, I realised how much I'm coming to like summer. I always used to prefer autumn, but now I think that a beautiful day is made by sunshine and bright colours. I'll be working too much to really enjoy any alone time in the sun with a book, like I did last year, but at least I'll have some kind of opportunity over the holidays in the garden. Hopefully.

Cub tonight was something of a joke, with no one showing up. It looks likely that I'll be given music editor for next year, although it's not guaranteed. It will be a lot of work, but I think it's doable.

Things with Darren are unpredictable, in a way, yet at the same time so familiar. I'm happy just cuddled up with a good DVD (and we've made our way through rather a lot of those really), so life is good right now.



Apart from him. I've come so close to telling him how I feel recently, but I'm still holding back. I don't want to lose him as a friend, and I'm sure it's not me he's talking about when he describes feeling exactly how I feel about him, only for his mystery girl. I wish it could be me. It's never me.

Numb

I've spent this entire week working hard, with various trips to the library and Darren's interspersed. The Zoo on Wednesday was fantastic fun, although Cheapskates was rather enjoyable sober and ill. Today I was sent home due to my flu-like tendencies, and Candice offered to take care of me whilst she revised. I saw through this, but I'm here nonetheless.

Despite being absolutely flat broke I'm going to Darren's tonight, to see if the warmth of his room makes me any better than my freezing room would. My essay isn't finished, although with only criticism to add and a conclusion to write it looks more achievable than previously. Now to start on the other three.

Help Me

The last week has been spent everywhere but in my own house. Seeing Darren so often has been brilliant. Not because there's something going on, but for precisely the opposite reason. Just having a friend to feel so comfortable around, someone who makes me laugh, is something I've needed since I moved to London. It's something I'll need even more when I go home, and will struggle to find.

My supposed best friend came to stay on Saturday, and that's all she did. I spent a grand total of around 2 hours with her, the rest of her time being given over to her favourite band. Whilst I understand the devotion she has, I was hurt that she didn't make more of an effort to see how I was or catch up. And it only made me the more aware of the fact that she's never come to see me without Muse being involved, and that recently she hasn't even had time for talking. Moving away is certainly an eye-opener.

After something of a revelation whilst on tour, my life is certainly back on track. Realising my priorities was something I'd needed to do for months, and now I've worked out who I am and what I want I feel much happier than I have in a long time. I suppose the busy lifestyle I've forced on myself could help, I hardly have a moment to think of anything outside of work and university right now, although I'm making time for friends who need me more than I need myself.

26 days until the Obsession. 25 days too long.

I'm not so sure if I'm sure of anything, anymore

I went out on a high. I was on the barrier screaming my heart out amidst people who barely seemed to know what band was on. I met Ratboy. I got a setlist. I bought a shirt. Despite having no voice at all, I really made the most of it.
Now to wait for them to return.

Today I came home, and realised that my laptop has given up. Again. I'm not impressed, to say the least. I have a million things going on right now and none of them are particularly positive, although if Ticketmaster manage to help then I'll at least get to maintain GC tradition tomorrow.

One more new Trio song, one more reason to wish it was May 10th.




And as for him. It's always too good to be true.

In Vein

Quite a lot has happened I suppose. Once again, chronology is my best bet.

Wednesday. I got the train to Nottingham, where Bradders met me at the station. I left my stuff in his room and we headed off to the pub for a quick drink before hitting the Rescue Rooms. Blackhole were good, although I still don't find them to be anything special. Scary Kids were much the same as in Colchester, they really haven't had the best of luck with sound this week. Drop Dead, Gorgeous were actually quite enjoyable with the right sound levels. Whilst I still don't like their music particularly, I will admit that they're quite fun to watch. If only because the keyboard player is stunning. I wormed my way onto the barrier for the first few songs and enjoyed singing some classics that will always make me smile. I danced with Bradders and was stunned by the songs which I had missed the night before:
Rendez-Voodoo
INRIhab
The New Black
Ebolarama

I've never viewed Ebolarama as a closer myself, but it works well. I'll never think it's better than Floater as far as last songs go, but it's a good 'un none the less. We went back to Brad's house to listen to Azriel, talk about music and fall asleep. I did something some people may believe I should regret, but I don't. I've wanted to for a long time and I see no shame in me taking an opportunity.

Thursday I woke up and showered, and headed off to the train station yet again. Adam bailed on me, so rather than indulging in coffee or a gayer drink I went to the Academy to lurk. I met Andy, which made my day. The background on my phone has never made me smile quite so much as it does right now at the sight of his huge beard and cheesy grin. I sat outside for a good while and was rewarded with a spot at the very front of the stage. In front of Jordan, yet again. Finding out that it was in fact in Academy 3 after I'd heard it was upgraded was the best news I could have hoped for, and the show was so brilliant that I actually began to doubt that the London Astoria Trio show of '05 is the greatest live show of all time. This is something akin to me realising the world is coming to an end. A Gentleman's Sport instead of INRIhab, and off home on an overnight coach I went.

Today I had my final lecture as a second year. An intimidating prospect for sure. I'm not entirely certain where the last year and a half of my life has gone, but it's lost and I'm a little worried at how quickly my time at university is drawing to a close. Well, in a way. I don't ever plan to leave university really, so I suppose I should say my time as an undergraduate. I went to the pub with Lorraine and from there went to meet Rory by the river. We drank and talked and listened to the newly released pre-mix In Vein, provided for the Blood Pact last night. It's promising. I adore it, which means the album should be brilliant. In theory. I'll find out come July 1st.

Oxford tomorrow, then no more ETID for a while. How sad.

Savour it, savour it

EVERYTHING VANISHES.
Except my love for Every Time I Die. After a pointless seminar in the morning and several hours of doing nothing, I headed off to Colchester. I missed Blackholes, which is no great loss as I've seen them before and will see them again. Scary Kids Scaring Kids would have benefitted from better levels in their sound, but at least they played The City Sleeps In Flames. Not bad at all. Drop Dead, Gorgeous however were apalling. Quite possibly the worst band I have ever seen live. The thought of seeing them again makes me quite sad if I'm honest.
But it didn't matter in the end. Because ETID were phenomenal. Having to leave early put a slight dampener on the evening, but as soon as I said I'd leave after the next song they kicked into I Been Gone A Long Time, so at least I went out on a high.
Setlist before I left:
We'rewolf
Romeo A Go-Go
Apocalypse Now And Then
Cities And Years
Kill The Music
OFF BROADWAY!!
No Son Of Mine
Pigs Is Pigs
Floater
Bored Stiff
I Been Gone A Long Time

The Hot Damn! songs got a better reaction than I expected, although I'd never anticipated a bigger shoutback in Off Broadway than Floater. Unusual. Of course, Bored Stiff got the best reaction of all the songs I saw, what with the average age of the crowd being about 14 and therefore the word "cunt" being the greatest thing they could ever imagine. I'm looking forward to seeing the whole set tonight.

I slept through my lecture this morning, something which I've done entirely too often this year. I'll make up for it, if I missed anything worth knowing. I'm going to get ready, get on the train and head off to Nottingham to see Bradders and get my drink on before we party all night. Tonight will easily top last night, if only because I have the company of someone I adore.




I sort of miss him. How pathetic.

This is the year of the party crasher

Or the week of the party crasher at least. The ETID tour is upon me and I'm rather excited. Whilst I know that I will have to leave early tomorrow to get the last train back to LDN, the time that I spend at the show will be worth every penny spent on the ticket and train fare. Besides, I have no such pressing matters to deal with at the Nottingham, Manchester or Oxford shows, so really I can't complain.

I got my Leeds ticket, along with Jennie, Emily and him. It should be a brilliant weekend, some good music, a lot of alcohol and the best of best friends. The only way it could be improved right now is if the obsession are added to the bill as I predict they will be. Now all I need to do is find a job or two and my summer will be perfect.

Although I may have a reason to spend more time in London than initially expected. For the moment, I don't know. I like to hope I will, but these things are out of my hands.

I don't dream since I quit sleeping

I'm not sure why I'm awake. I feel tired, yet when I try to sleep it just doesn't happen. I don't know what's going on. I'll put it down to my body getting up to it's usual trick of doing exactly the opposite of what I want it to. Pesky nuisance.

I didn't do much today. It was exactly how Sundays are meant to be. I went to the library briefly to pick up a pile of books covering three of my essays. I wrote rough essay plans and read a little. I watched yet more Heroes and sewed. I cooked. Whilst it was relaxing in the extreme, which is exactly what I need before a week as chaotic as this one will be, I couldn't help but feel the lack of human contact. Even MSN didn't offer much today by comparison to other days. Sometimes my life is quite depressing.

Tomorrow, or today as I suppose it really is now, I have little to be excited about. Work and Senate House, then home to buy my Leeds festival ticket if all goes to plan. Not that I can really afford it, but the lineup has the potential to be stunning and I'll only regret it if I don't buy a ticket now. If the worst happens I can always sell it. I'm not quite sure what "the worst" would be in this case. I hope it wouldn't involve a loss of limbs or motor functions.

ETID in 2 days. It promises to be a lively week.

I'm having nightmares all the time...

...of running out of words that rhyme.
It's amazing how much my outlook has changed even since my last post. The week certainly began well, and it's only got better. I'll take it chronologically, for fear of incoherence.

Tuesday. I met Adam on a very rainy day in Starbucks, late for once. We talked history, MAs, pretentiousness and alcohol. I don't think I've ever felt more like a student. We get on so well that it's really a shame to think that he and Kirsty don't get along at all. Well, Kirsty doesn't get along with him. He has no such quarrel with her. I got on the coach and enjoyed Boswell's London Journal until the driver turned the reading lights off. I napped and thought of what the week could possibly bring.

On Wednesday I waited around all day for the uni best friend to wake up. The girl can sleep for England, and our plans to visit the IWM had to be postponed for a day when I shall inevitably have to jump on her bed to get her up. We ate stir fry and gossiped, and realised exactly what it is that makes our visits home so disappointing. The differences between our university lives and our home lives is becoming greater, and now that we actually enjoy our time in London, it's hard to be truly happy anywhere else. This bodes ill for the summer, but I plan to distract myself in many ways. We spent the evening in the pub with other friends from work, talking about things which didn't matter and generally being friendly. How I've changed over the last few months. I left to go home, and was infinitely buoyed by a text from my darling Lauren about my obsession. They're returning. The excitement was dulled slightly by Theresa warning us that the band hadn't actually made a decision, but this was just a temporary dull.

Thursday began routinely. I went to work, read the new Cub and spoke to friends. A text to the boy intended to just make us friendly again led to us agreeing to a night in watching The Cable Guy. Whilst I hate to admit that he's right about anything, I thoroughly enjoyed the film. And what happened whilst it was on. A second chance is a grand thing and it was thoroughly unexpected. We'll take it slowly this time, allow ourselves the chance to be sure and hopefully things will go according to plan. We stayed up late talking, teasing, laughing. We took a late night trip to Tesco and watched Arrested Development.

Friday I left in his car, went to the station and headed home with a smile on my face. Life is good. My lecture was routine, I dazzled without having done any preparation, which is always a pleasant feeling. I looked over third year courses, and whilst I'm underwhelmed for the most part, I can't help thinking that there's definitely potential in some of them. We'll see. I spent the evening watching Heroes and ignoring the many other things I should be doing.

I awoke today to confirmation of the obsession's return. I dragged myself out of the house to spend an unpleasantly large amount of money on a ticket for the return and came back. I'll spend my evening watching Heroes once again, and reading. If I can finish the reading I have left over from this semester I'll be ready to make a start on my essays. I'm going to the library on Monday (which I said I'd do today and obviously didn't), and that way I'll be able to read some fascinating criticism on my travels this week. Every Time I Die call, and I shall answer. Repeatedly.

For the rest of the week I'll be everywhere but here, whilst the boy is elsewhere and my lectures draw to a close. The end of second year approaches, and I'm terrified.

Where are you, my little needle?

Not a song about drugs, as we so often assume, but one about finding your true love. Your needle in a haystack. Sometimes even Skiba has a romantic side, and I've never loved Goddamnit! more than I do right now. I should maybe feel depressed that a re-release of a CD has the ability to work wonders on my psyche, yet it does. My favourite album of all time, by the band that make my life worthwhile and have never truly let me down. A DVD bonus disc with everything I could ever need. Obsessive, it's true, but I feel close enough to them to love them, yet far enough away to never get hurt. Maybe that's the attitude I should take to those around me as well.

I visited the family like a dutiful daughter/granddaughter/niece/cousin. It was relaxing, in a somehow claustrophobic way. I gossiped with Jemma and got excited about Good Charlotte, I ate chocolate and I finally got the meat and potato pie I've been craving for weeks. Sometimes I really am entirely too Northern.

I came home, booked trains for my upcoming week of fun, discussed MAs and made plans for a covert meeting with an enemy of my best friend. Tomorrow should be an interesting day at least.

A phone call from a good friend this morning made me smile, even if we only talked about a course we both take and a boy we both know who I did a silly thing with. Well, a marginally silly thing. I certainly did worse things last week, but I doubt I'll be telling the good friend about that. I'm looking forward to going back to London with a new lease of life, working hard for a week and partying my heart out with my second favourite band next week. The pub on Wednesday seems ever more likely, as the good friend and I have unfinished business to attend to in the form of...forms.

A few days at home and I feel completely changed. I can start over once again, ignore the past to a certain degree and approach new situations with positivity, albeit in the form of emotional distance and a large amount of cynicism. I was never an optimist, and I don't plan to begin now, but the best way to avoid being hurt is to hide behind a mask. He knows that, and now so do I.

If I kiss you where it's sore, will you feel better?

Will you feel anything at all?

Today I have kept myself inconceivably busy. I went for a walk with mother and her partner, who is yet again pretending I don't exist. Brenda, Khal and Rebecca were there to distract all of our attentions, which was nice. I had dinner at Nan's, which is always a treat. I saw Kirsty, and even though all we did was plan our holiday and laugh at Trio videos, she lifted my heart that little bit more. The poor girl has had a lot to deal with from me over the years, yet we've never fought. I don't think I could possibly love her more if I tried.

I saw 10,000 B.C with mother and partner. Whilst I was entirely sceptical about the entire premise, I found myself quite enjoying it by the end. Not the sort of film I'd watch more than once I think, but not too bad. I've certainly seen worse films.

Tomorrow we visit the family. Not my favourite thing to do, but I hardly ever see them and I feel I should make an appearance. It will also keep me busy, and that's what matters.

There's no place like home

I came home, and suddenly everything feels better. Interesting, coming from the girl who would have given anything to escape two years ago. Moving away changes your priorities, and now I realise that my parents do make me feel considerably better about everything. Whilst I wish I could explain exactly what it is that's making me low (my Dad doesn't seem to believe that it's just stress and the boy situation, and I have no doubt that he's right; Mum on the other hand is deliberately pretending that I just needed a bit of a break), I can't. Even if I could, I doubt I would. It's better for us all this way.

On the plus side, I read voraciously on the way home. Amanda 1 - Dickens 0

I think it's time I learnt not to care. Nothing good ever seems to come of anything I do, regardless of how pure my intentions are. I'll leave everyone to their mistakes, keep my opinions to myself, and create a new front to mask the true me that seems to have been inadvertantly peeping through the old front recently. No one cares who I really am or what I really think, so I may as well be someone else that they might possibly like.
That's the philosophy, right?

I did a freewrite on allpoetry. It's awful, but then any poem written in 5 minutes with my head in the state it's in with no attention to punctuation or eloquence is bound to be. It's to the point though, and right now that's what I need. Forcing myself to write on a given topic could be what saves me from a breakdown. Perhaps.

All the girls buy the enemy lines

Or maybe it's just me. I keep setting myself up for a fall, believing that there's something where there really isn't anything. I don't see why I should care so much about him, he's nothing special. He's not who I want or what I need. But every word he says that's so clearly aimed at me is carefully calculated to wear my self-respect down that little bit more. Clearly I made a huge mistake. I thought he was decent and vaguely trustworthy. I thought wrong. I tried to warn him, as a friend, about a huge mistake he's bound to make if given half a chance. Just because he's tortured me doesn't mean I want to see the same thing happen to him. But of course, I'm only doing this because I'm jealous he says. Whatever. I'll return to my promiscuity and try my hardest not to feel anything for anyone ever again. It's probably best.

I didn't win at Colours, and in all honesty I never expected to. Tonight made me realise many things about myself, and the fact that I want to be yet more involved in the SU next year was the smallest of these realisations by a long way.

I'm such a fucking idiot.

I'm all over you

I'm not over you.

Despite the fact that no one will read this, it feels somewhat more cathartic than my personal diary. My LJ has it's dedicated readers amongst some of my closest friends, yet this is just an electronic version of what I scribble to myself when I find a spare five minutes in which to do so. Somehow, because it could still be read by someone taking the vaguest interest in me, I find myself more eloquent and explanatory here. I should keep it up.

My stress levels have peaked over this last week, as I predicted they would do with the pressures of campaigning and maintaing a healthy front of normalcy which I would usually never do. I thought it was best not to alienate the voters with my usual surliness, and make some attempt at being sociable and friendly. Hopefully it worked, we'll see tomorrow.

Seventy Times Seven just came on WMP. A song with so many memories for me, and so many thoughts I could attach to its lyrics. I miss Woody. I miss the days when me and Alex were inseperable. I miss going to shows with Kirsty nearly every week. I miss the relatively carefree days of 2003 and 2004. But at the same time I'm looking forward and anticipating a life far less disastrous than I thought it would be. I've realised recently that, despite my apparent pessimism, I see hope somewhere in the distance. I just have to reach that little spot on the horizon.

The semester is nearly at an end, and with it the end of my second year looms ever closer. With nothing to concern me after the end of lectures but a pile of research essays which I'm almost looking forward to, I'm wondering exactly what it is I pay £3000 for. Cornelia is worth it I suppose, but it's still extortionate when our university can't even provide us with a particularly magnificent library. Admittedly, it's not as bad as I think it is, but by no means is it brilliant. If ULU leaves Senate House I'm not sure what I'll do. My grades will very definitely suffer.

So that leaves me with the coming week. Our split week begins on Thursday, which gives me a week in which to go home. Except I probably won't go home. If I can work for the agency I will, with a holiday to fund and the potential for a Trio tour becoming ever stronger. If I stay in London I can prepare for the Every Time I Die tour and finally get around to tidying my room properly. The disappearance of my necklace is very worrying, considering that everything which was around it is still there but the necklace is gone.

I'm planning to see The Lord of the Rings musical on Thursday. No doubt I will be incredibly disappointed by the way it is presented, and what I've heard of the music is distinctly underwhelming. But if I don't see it, I'll wish I did, and with it closing much earlier than intended I feel this may be my last chance.

I am the patron saint of lost causes

So there is a catch. Not a great one, but a catch nonetheless. His behaviour will change, his interest will seem to wane. But it will still be there, and he thinks we're strong enough to last. I hope he's right, although my mind is telling me to run now whilst there is still hope.
I saw Be Kind, Rewind last night. As expected, it was nothing spectacular. The "sweded" films were brilliant, purely for the fact that they looked as though any member of the audience could have made them on a minimal budget (which is of course the idea), but other than that it was a film which I felt tried too hard to provoke emotion in the audience.
As I write this 300 is coming to an end. Much like Sin City, the violence seems somehow real whilst the entire premise is ludicrous and fantastic. Frank Miller adaptations are wonderful, I've decided. Very enjoyable.

Once again I've spent the day avoiding the essays. I'm halfway through the first, leaving myself another thousand words to write tomorrow which I will no doubt avoid in any way I can. I plan to visit the Museum In Docklands again at some point over the next week to gather more information for my Representing London essay, which I will then have to spend all of next weekend writing. As well as my Cub article, which I hope will not take long at all. Hopefully tomorrow I will achieve much more of what I should. Tonight, I'm seeing him.

It's going well. I swear there has to be a catch. There's always a catch. Maybe this one's something different, something new. We planned to watch the Eclipse last night but the cloud changed that plan. The thought was there though, and that's something new to me.

I've spent much of this week attempting to avoid my essays. I plan to spend the weekend doing much the same. I can't understand why I can't get motivated, but I think perhaps it's just the fact that I have all this time which I could be doing nothing in. Maybe with him. Or maybe I'm just not the dazzlingly promising academic I once was. It could be either.

You told me once I made you smile

we both know damn well I didn't.

I haven't been entirely productive today, although I can't say I'm surprised. A long lie-in took up the entire morning, before a brief visit to Bury to pick up necessaries for the Agency work. A late birthday meal for little brother to end the day, then home to spend hours talking nonsense with the boy.

Perhaps my paranoia isn't as bad as it used to be. The length of time I spent with Matt certainly did wonders for my self-esteem, but finding out that the last few months of our relationship was little more than a lie plunged me back to depths I hadn't seen since the age of 14, maybe 15. Dark, dark days, ones which I thought I'd left far behind. I've put on a magnificent front in recent months, making everyone believe that I was better than ever. I even believed it myself for a time. Stephen came closest to seeing my true state of mind, but even he only glanced at the surface of my troubles. In reality, my depression had crept back in and taken over, and there were days when I truly couldn't stand any more. It all seemed so melodramatic as a teenager, but when the exact same feelings still torment you after so long, you begin to wonder if there's really something behind it.

There's something about him that seems to make it all go away.

At the speed of a yellow bullet

Today I considered doing something worthwhile. Perhaps making a start on the essay which I know is only going to go away with a conscious effort from me. Instead, I lay in bed for three hours contemplating the amount I had to do this week.
I went to see my Dad today. I've still not entirely adjusted to the fact that Dad just isn't there anymore, the way he was when I was 14 and I'd come home from a friend's to see him sat watching TV. I know it's now three years since they split, and I'm fine with it all, but some things just never feel quite right. I love Paula and her kids though, so the impending wedding doesn't really pose a threat to my mental stability. Were Mum to marry Dave, the situation would of course be entirely different. Speaking of which, he is yet to say a word to me on this visit home. Admittedly, I've only seen him once for a matter of minutes, but the effort would be nice. The summer will be interesting, as I'll be here when I really want to be elsewhere. With the boy maybe.
I saw Juno again, with Zoe. Further proof if needed that I really do get on quite well with Paula's family, I'd never spend time in a voluntary social situation with Dave's kids. Once again, I adored it. The whole thing feels so natural and fantastically warm, I can't help but smile whenever I even think of it. And of course Michael Cera is my new favourite geek, so that aspect of the film can never be underappreciated by me.
Sometimes the boy can be fantastic, as he's proved a few times today. It's perhaps slightly disturbing that his sense of humour is so close to my Dad's, but oh well. I might consider being a bit more like myself with him, if I can completely work out who myself is. It's been so long I fear I may have forgotten.

Start all over again

I have my LJ, but I feel like I want something more. Something between the irrelevancies of that and the brutal incoherent honesties that infrequently emerge in my personal diary. Somewhere where I can try to let it all out, and see if I really can write the way I used to. Perhaps my Plathesque attempts at literary production were merely the result of general teen angst, perhaps the ability to write something stunning is still lurking somewhere beneath the surface. I wrote a stream of consciousness weeks ago now, and the flow was wonderful, yet I couldn't turn it into what I wanted. Mostly because I really haven't tried yet. It could be an epic by my standards, something I can use to prove that my degree isn't entirely a waste of time and that I truly have learnt something I can use. I could tell you anything you want to know about Charles Dickens' representations of London, or the importance of patronage to literary productions in the 17th century, but in all honesty I'd be satisfied with the work I've put into this degree if I could just write one truly incredible poem. I never got around to editing the piece I wrote when I couldn't sleep, it just won't flow. Perhaps if I didn't feel the need to be such a perfectionist it wouldn't be a problem.

Literary insecurities aside, things seem to be taking a turn for the better. The boy is wonderful when he chooses to be, although this seems to be a lot less frequently than one would hope. The fact that I'm taking a risk on him says something about how far I've come recently, or perhaps I've just reached the point where I'm fed up of my own nonsensical excuses for self-punishment and instead I've actually decided to act on impulse and utilise my over-active emotions. I hope I don't push him away with my overwhelming need for reassurance and stability. I guess we both have a lot to learn.

I saw Mark Ronson today, he was nothing special. Well, he himself was, particularly when holding that most marvellous of percussive instruments, the cowbell. The show was average though, mostly Version tracks and the solo work of the vocalists he'd brought along. The response to Valerie said more than I ever could, with everyone up on their feet and the echoes of the crowd's voices carrying far beyond the amplification of the PA. Strangely, I still don't think it's the best track on that record, Stop Me If You Think That You've Heard This One Before still gets me in ways Valerie just never can. I probably should have gone to see Justice with him, but on second thoughts that has too much potential for harm. I did speak to him though, and it made me smile.

I think tomorrow I'm seeing Juno again, any excuse to comfort myself with delusions of Michael Cera knowing I exist.