Tea

I feel lonely and useless like a student without a room mate. I thought to myself, as I poured the milk into the cup, "Should I only use one cup? It'll save on washing up." Oh dear.

Okay, so

Done the Torchwood watching. Ugh, commentary.
Second Life looks so funny.
There's something I so desperately need to write.
Oh yeah,
I have the house to myself for another 18 days. I feel so alone! Tom and Simon both ditched me. Grr.

I need to watch Jumanji

And do my commentary, and watch Torchwood.

Lost In Space (1998)

Awesome. I forgot how good the graphics were, how uplifting the storyline was, everything. I'd forgotten about the plot twists, the whole time thing. It was great. Made me very happy.

I WANT ALPHA CENTAURI BUT I HAVE MEDIA ESSAY DAMN.

New hair.

Hah, well I like it.

Jumped in the river what did I see?

Am I as insensitive as people make me out to be?
/Am I as insensitive as I appear?
/Am I as insensitive as I act?
I don't even realise I'm doing it, but it must be happening.

*terrible person*

And I could watch Lost In Space now, but I wanna play Alpha Centauri. I dunno.

Turns out that I AM that insensitive.

"Mummy, is it sweetie day today?"

Wow, that was scary. A woman, being followed by her five children, who all sang that in unison. Creepy.

Keep the car running

They know my name because I told it to them but they don't know where and they don't know when: keep the car running.

Oh, Neon Bible. I've finished my English coursework, but I've only like half done the commentary for each piece. Also, we're not doing Reservoir Dogs because the three lazy people decided to pull out. And I say lazy because I'm being nice. How powerful is the start of Intervention? AMAZING.
The king's taken back the throne, the useless seed is sown.
When they say they're cutting off the phone, I tell them you're not home.

OH, WHO'S GONNA RESET THE BONE?
And I've got a media essay I'd completely forgotten about. On Marks&Spencers. Argh.

No Country For Old Men

I kind of zoned out about half the way through it, so the ending really confused me. Can't really decide whether I liked it. It was probably worth downloading it, though. "I woke up." What?

What happened to all the poetry?

Oh God, well look at you now: when you've lost it but you don't know how.

The Dark Is Rising wasn't as good as I'd expected, from Christopher Eccleston. And the boy in it looked too much like my Hitler Youth cousin. Which put me off just a little bit. And the plot was too predictable. And Chris spent too much time on a horse for my liking.

No Country For Old Men is almost finished downloading, though. That might be good. Seemed a bit too western from the trailer, but I'm out of films to watch. Also downloading Jumanji, Blade Runner (Final Cut), Lost In Space (1998), Stargate SG1 series 4, and 24 series 6. I'll provide reviews on all of them, or whatever. I do love Robin Williams.

JOHN LEFT ME

Well not really. But

I was thinking,

if you put speakers or something next to a mirror, would the sound come out backwards?

This picture is awesome. Or really scary. But I'm not really sure.

I can't wait for The Seeker: The Dark Is Rising to download.

The Foals annoy me so much. They cancelled two gigs in Carlisle, and. They pretend to be Bloc Party. And NME. Omg, NME. Ew.

LOL THAT'S FUNNY. :D I applaud whoever did that with the photo.

lol. lol.

The pre-watershed version of Torchwood is so, so lame.

omg i got asked to help out on trinity fm

And when I say "got asked to help out", I mean effing asked to PRESENT. Oh yes.

Three Little Pigs 'too offensive'

A story based on the Three Little Pigs has been turned down from a government agency's annual awards because the subject matter could offend Muslims.

The digital book, re-telling the classic fairy tale, was rejected by judges who warned that "the use of pigs raises cultural issues".

Becta, the government's educational technology agency, is a leading partner in the annual schools award.

The judges also attacked Three Little Cowboy Builders for offending builders.

The book's creative director, Anne Curtis, said that the idea that including pigs in a story could be interpreted as racism was "like a slap in the face".

Bloody hell. I hate political correctness.

"We've got the land but.."

If life's not beautiful without the pain,
well I'd just rather never ever even see beauty again.
Well as life gets longer, awful feels softer.

And it feels pretty soft to me.

Part 2

Matthew climbed up out of the ruined flight controls and shouted, “We’ve got ten seconds! Grab something!” Becky threw herself at the nearest console, and linked her arms through some of the dislodged cables, in an attempt to hold herself down. She counted the seconds in her head. Suddenly, without warning, the deafening propellers she was so used to stopped. Before she had time to realise, everything went blurry, and Becky felt herself being crushed into the mess of wires and plating which she was holding onto and with a bang, a huge, head-splitting bang, the ship had impaled itself into the Discord. She was thrown across the deck into another console, she heard the crack of a rib. The Stijl groaned, and Becky knew it would never fly again. With a jolt, everything fell a foot downwards. Matthew surfaced from a pile of circuitry and rubble and limped towards Becky, roughly lifting her to her feet by her arm, muttering, “We’ve gotta get out, gotta get out…” Something creaked and the lower deck fell away beneath them. Becky and Matthew leapt through the opening in the wall just in time, Matthew roaring in pain as his ankle twisted and snapped beneath him. Once through the opening created by the Stijl-which Becky realised with a jolt was no longer her ship, it was but a wreck-, Becky helped lay Matthew down on the metallic flooring of the inside of the sky fortress Discord, which had eluded her for so long. She turned to face the remains of her beloved ship, to see the Irwin or Mikheil or Yuan Sandstorm (she didn’t much care; it was near the end) tear through the Stijl, shredding what remained of it into white-hot shards which swirled up and joined the Sandstorm itself, making it ever more powerful a shield. She turned back to the room they were in, which seemed to be a sort of antechamber; steps leading down at one end and a large ornate door at the other.

Matthew groaned in agony and cried, “They’re coming! Help me up.” Becky quickly propped Matthew up, ignoring the pain in her side, and the blood spilling from Matthew’s leg. They heard heavy boots on the metal walkway. “I hear three men, one wounded.” whispered Matthew.

“Can we take them?” Matthew nodded in reply. In a blur, two of the men were dead, their light uniforms painted red. Matthew yelled something at Becky, who narrowly avoided a soldier’s fist, and responded with one of her own.

“We must hurry!” She helped Matthew once again to his feet, his arm around her shoulders, and they stumbled towards the great door, which reacted to their presence by humming faintly. It slid open, and they stepped inside. It was a small circular space, suitable for three people at most. “It’s a lift…” Matthew murmured. At once the door opened, and they stepped out onto what could only be described as a greenhouse. The ceiling was glass, with all manner of trees and plants running either side of a steel walkway. There was a door at the opposite end, but there was something in the way… Becky’s eyes adjusted to the light and made out a figure.

“McKenzie.” The woman-who appeared to be bathed in darkness, even in the brightness of the greenhouse-laughed.

“I’ve been waiting.” At Becky’s side, Matthew started spluttering and gasping, he coughed up blood, and collapsed at her feet. A pool of blood slowly formed around his head. Becky ignored this, and stepped over his body, towards the woman. She had taken no more than five steps and found that she could move no further. The darkness that surrounded McKenzie was forming a barrier between them both. It moved like a liquid, until all Becky could see was black. She could hear her enemy cackling with glee, which so reminded Becky of all those bedtime stories of witches and wizards, and how much she’d love to sleep…

A crash erupted from above, and the darkness was gone. A single figure fell down through the glass, which shattered. All the plants died instantly, withered and decayed in a second. The figure seemed to be engaged in some sort of dance with McKenzie, weaving left and right, dodging the scythe which McKenzie had conjured, and ultimately-Becky barely saw it, it was so quick-pulling a simple flick-knife from his shirt pocket, and thrusting it into McKenzie’s chest. With a fizzling and crackling, the Sandstorm broke free of its bounds, and seeped into the room, throwing white-hot particles of glass, stone and metal into the room, enveloping the two rivals. Becky threw herself to the ground, closed her eyes, clamped her hands over her ears and made herself into as small a ball as possible, while everything was decimated overhead. When she got up, the Sandstorm had been reabsorbed by its bounds, and swirled with a calm splendour feet from her head. Except for the walls, nothing remained of the room but the door at the far end, unscathed.

It stood slightly ajar.

Spoilt twat.

Is that too harsh for a ten-year-old? He's so, so spoilt. And can only be described as a twat. He gets everything he wants, he could get away with murder and he knows he could blame it on someone else by smiling at my grandma. (She's meant to favour me, by the way. I live with her!) I actually just refused to stay in the same house as him and left, leaving loads of chips, chicken and Yorkshire puddings. I'm hungry now. But argh. Stab stab stab.
And I hope I'm not sounding spoilt/jealous or anything like that, Pietro agrees with me! SO HAH.

Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street

I might even buy the soundtrack. It was brilliant.

Meanwhile, we went into the Sportsman last night and got kicked out after about a minute, then back to Tom's. I think I fell asleep listening to Radiohead, but I dunno. I slept for half an hour at most, because I remember seeing seven o'clock, then half seven.

I loved the bit where he danced Mrs. Lovett into the oven. Hahaha. It was so so so Tim Burton. Awesome.

"You're beautiful, Ann. Sometimes you're so beautiful I want to cry. And sometimes you look so beautiful I want to laugh and jump up and down and run through the streets with no clothes on and shout P'tang, Yang, Kipperbang in people's letterboxes! (Pause) But mostly you're so beautiful, even if it doesn't make me cry, it makes my chest cry. Most beautiful are your lips. Second is your nape."
I have to learn this bullshit and other romancey crap for Friday. Grr.

That's not an exasperated look, it's a proposal.

From Eden Dunn, ginger rock star, love or hate him.
Now think, exasperate means to make angry or gravitate a situation.
This was about a photo by Jess resembling Amy Winehouse.

I mean, it sounds like a Paul comment: something that doesn't actually make sense, but sounds quite clever.
I hate it when people younger than me use long words to try and sound clever.

I don't want to sleep, again.

Listening to Radiohead's takeover of Radio 1. Awesome.
I can't think of anything bad about the week, apart from Bargain Booze and chav girls.
And aw, Paul made John get all flustered.

I am a foreigner, and I'm walkin' through your streets!

Hah, Gogol Bordello on the 28th of March, Newcastle. £14, yes, thank you.

Media was fudging easy. 666, nah. But yes to my A Clockwork Orange reference.

Went to see Mike last night, but that was shite. SHITE. Who wants to sit in Bargain Booze for over an hour talking to chav girls? Not me. I went and met Bob, Chris, Dan, Paul and Tom. Turns out I knew all of them apart from Tom. Oops. Great night, but I'm going out tonight as well to make up for my exam?

But I don't WANT to go to bed.

But there's now no point staying up, seeing as though the interesting people have gone, and that my sugar-induced insomnia is wearing away slightly. People keep making me one of their top friends on Bebo. I saw an interview with the Queen of Bebo once. She seemed nice. But it's less of the freedom of speech, now. Even as I type this I think not about the target audience but of the actual living audience.

motor crazycycle

Whatever they say.. these people are torn
Wild and bereft.. ASSASSIN IS BORN

yeah.

Karma Police

You do it to yourself, you do
And that's what really hurts
Is that you do it to yourself
Just you, you and no one else
You do it to yourself
You do it to yourself

So I'll have a whole house to myself once we get to February for two whole weeks. If that's not a teenage boy's fantasy, I don't know what is.

I'm ill and watching Stargate SG1

I think my boyfriend's coming round to disrupt my viewing, though.

Ice has covered up my parents hands!

Don't have any dreams, don't have any plans!

So, we need something to do for drama. Matt came up with the idea to do the initial scene from Reservoir Dogs, which is a great film. I've now got the transcript for that scene, but I also found the Mr. Pink scene. You know, the one where they argue about names. But it looked too short, and the other scene looked too long. Oh, and we only have four people so far. I think we need eight.

Crap

This is gonna be close. I've just done my commentary, but I've got to go back to school and hand it in. Then I've got to do tons of drama work tonight, then I'll have an hour after drama tomorrow to do my other commentary. Argh.

Now, if I was going to build a nuclear reactor, it'd look exactly like this.

It's wet and horrible.

Jack. Commentary.
... Argh.

Trainspotting

That was a fucking fantastic film.

I can do a wicked card trick.

I haven't tried it in front of anyone real yet, though. Only on webcam. And that might be because webcams have a low fps rate. Oh well.

I apologise to Emma Thompson.

I thought she was Helen Mirren. I mistakenly thought Helen Mirren played Professor Trelawney and Nanny McPhee. Oh well, I'm pleased it was actually Emma Thompson.
She's great. Although I didn't realize that she played Doctor Crippen in I Am Legend. For those who haven't seen the slow and actionless film, Ms. Thompson is single-handedly responsible for the death of what, 99% of humans on the planet?

Man With Knives in Pants Stabs Himself

A man who hid hunting knives in his pants to try to steal them from a western Michigan store tripped while fleeing and stabbed himself in three places of his left leg.

I laughed at that, too.

Film Review at Midnight

So for my film review tonight, I bring you The History Boys, Stranger Than Fiction, Next, The Illusionist and Pan's Labyrinth.
The History Boys was almost as good as my grandma said it was. Not having being born in the 80s, the film meant little to me. It was good, however, and if I'd been in the right mood could have possibly brought a tear to my eye. I can't remember the character's names but it did a good job getting us involved with them. Well, most of them. It was educational, inspiring and funny.
Stranger Than Fiction actually made me laugh. It was much better than the review I read. I loved ... Emma Thompson's character? For some reason I was convinced it was Helen Mirren. Oh well. Especially the psychotic parts where she was 'researching'. I didn't really care much for the romantic side, but it made me laugh. The moral of the whole thing was alright too.
Next. I was surprised when in the opening sequece it was credited as based upon The Golden Man by Philip K. Dick. I just watched A Scanner Darkly, and have read the book of Blade Runner, so to watch another one of his films so quickly makes me want to read more. Anyway, back to Next. I just can't see Nick Cage as a real actor. He's extremely wooden. The romance sucked, as usual, and the bad guys were very clichéd. I did like the dark humour side of things, in the casino, and when he gets shot at on some random ship. The bit where he says, "I made a mistake." threw me completely. Everything blew up and I actually mumbled, "wtf." with my mouth open. I would have been happier if it'd ended there, but that's not the point.
The Illusionist was slow. Very slow. The thing I noted right at the start was that the opening titles took four minutes. It was a waste of time. The plot was needlessly confusing, and the bit where the police chief works everything out at the end didn't make sense at all. They'd just thrown random stuff in there and hoped it'd work on screen. Well, it didn't.
Pan's Labyrinth. I almost cried at the end. Anyone who knows me will know this means that it was an amazing film.

So, here's my failed attempt.

Click to enlarge. I forgot to check the spelling before I converted it to a flat image. Ugh. 'Jphn Terror'.Soundproof Magazine is a brilliant title though, isn't it?

ideate; to have an idea

So, right, so if, right, if I abolished all of this rubbishy education and just kept the good stuff, we'd all be happier. Oh, and I want to play Laika so badly. I think this is London. See: Mortal Engines.

people on the tube

For a second there I thought I saw how the world worked. But I didn't.

Coursework, revision and such.

To do: English coursework to finish, English coursework to start, commentary to write for both, media essay, media revision.

I've finished the first English coursework, but have yet to write the commentary.

I can't get out of the other piece of coursework or the commentary for it.
I can get out of the media essay, as I wasn't there.
I should probably revise for the media exam that I have on Wednesday.

Oh, but I can't be bothered. Argh. Argh. I have until Friday for the commentary of the first piece of English coursework, I have until Wednesday to revise. But the full piece of coursework that I have to invent is for Thursday. I have opportunities to do it such as all day tomorrow, Tuesday afternoon and Thursday morning, but still. I'll never get it done. I could be doing it instead of this blog, but to be honest I don't feel up to it. Also, I have an argument against the second piece of coursework. Basically, we have to hand in two pieces of coursework at the end of the year. I already have one at school, and the finished one minus commentary, so why do I need to do a third? Grr.

Abbreviations 'pose risk'

Doctors are being warned that using abbreviations in medical notes is putting patients' lives at risk.

The UK's Medical Defence Union said difficulties often arose because abbreviations can have more than one meaning or might be misread.

Some patients have had the wrong limb removed or operated on and others have been given deadly drug doses, it said.

So I burst out laughing. So?

Not cruel in any way.

DELETED FOR THE SAKE OF MY SANITY

NO ANSWER, NO SURPRISES

Small things

Such as not being able to find a good song when on shuffle
Or my best friend (?) complaining about not being able to get with a girl who likes him
Or people asking if I
Or alcohol and drugs in general
Illiterate typing
Scene kids
Fucking, fucking, FUCKING Elmo
Stubbornness in people way inferior to me
Myself, for quotes such as the above

Really annoy me.

Winter For A Year

Oh my God, a winter for a year
Oh my God, a winter for a year
And I cleaned out the back of my wardrobe for a year
Jackets never turn into branches
Not while you're not here

Oh my God, a winter for a year
Oh my God, a winter for a year
I kept my life so cold
Every breath just fogs up all the mirrors
The tears are frozen long
Long before I ever thought of crying

So ends my year-long romance
With radio towers and machines
Wasted all my prayers
That I can't remember my dreams
But I don't mind
Oh my God, a winter for a year
Oh my God, a winter for a year
And I cleaned out the back of my wardrobe for a year
Jackets never turn into branches
Not while you're not here

So ends my year-long romance
With radio towers and machines
Wasted all my prayers
That I can't remember my dreams
But I don't mind
No, I don't
No, I don't care anymore

(Psst, my melodica finally has a use.)

Talked to Josef online about books that have main us cry, largely Mortal Engines, Predator's Gold, Infernal Devices and A Darkling Plain. Then my internet cut off, so I went to Karen's. I took Freluquet. We spent a few hours trying to play along to Laika, then we copied down what we thought the notes were. We now have an amazing melodica/acoustic guitar version of Laika. It's the best thing ever. We also made a sort of Street Spirit that we can both play. Karen wants to go busking. We need a few more songs. Anyway, today has been good. I love Frelly. He makes me so happy.

I'd just like to add a big fuck you to Becca Farrell, Jake Sheard and John Watts. I learned Laika. Fuck you.

The Amber Spyglass

I spent all day yesterday and into the early hours of the morning finishing that book, then I had a dream in which my French French teacher from France was giving the class some sort of optical experiment involving lenses, and she made me find the amber spyglass.
Three things really interested me whilst reading this book.
Firstly, this quotation by William Blake.
A truth that's told with bad intent
beats all the lies you can invent.
Which pretty much sums up my life.
Secondly, there was a simile which I can barely recall, which went something like this:
Will and Lyra heard murmuring and crackling, like the sound you hear before you realize your house is on fire.
Which made me think, has Phillip Pullman been inside a burning house? Then, No, that's just a clever simile. But the way it was directed entirely at the reader was odd.
And thirdly, the Authority. He wasn't dead, he hadn't left us, but he was completely senile. He wasn't killed by AEsahaettr the god-destroyer, but a gust of wind.
Oh, and fourthly, which I forgot about. When Mary Malone says the Christian religion is just a well constructed sequence of lies and deceit to keep ignorant people in line, I laughed with her.

Done, done, done with all the fuck, fuck, fucking around.

Might as well add. My supposed utmost-greatest-friend-in-the-world-ever-or-something told me to give up while I was trying to learn something on the keyboard at the other-best-friend-'s house.

I know I'm terrible. I don't need reminded. How does anyone get better at anything if they've never tried? I mean. I've never had piano lessons like she has. I've never had acting lessons like she has. You know why? Because I couldn't afford to. And she takes all this for granted? Moaning about drama exams and suchlike. Things I can only dream about. She's auditioning for the National Youth Theatre. The National Youth Theatre. And I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm fucking jealous.

Oh, and

Are you dead or are you sleeping?
God, I sure hope you are dead.

After posting and reading that, I had to edit this. Here's the edit:
Reading that, "God, I sure hope you are dead." brings a lot of stuff back to me? Nobody but me will remember The Second Coming, the ITV drama starring Christopher Eccleston that had everyone in school awestruck for two days or so. When the woman at the end said, "God has left us. He's gone.". I've never stopped thinking about that. Even though Phillip Pullman (His Dark Materials) probably had this idea completely unrelated to The Second Coming, it does bring up an important question. What if God neither does or doesn't exists, but he did exist? That would change things. Did he leave us? Was he killed in a rebellion by the angels? Do I have a theory?

And I'm gonna drown the ocean

Well let's take this potted plant
to the woods and set it free.
I'm gonna tell the owners
just how nice that was of me.

I could buy myself a reason.
I could sell myself a job.
I could hang myself for treason.
Oh, I am my own damn god.
HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA.

I just watched that film: A Scanner Darkly. It was a bit confusing, and tripped me up in some parts. I didn't realise it was based on a Philip K. Dick novel until right at the end. I loved Do Androids Dream Of Electronic Sheep? (Blade Runner) I have an urge to watch more of these films. A Scanner Darkly was made on a relatively low budget considering the main character's Keanu Reeves. I've become infatuated with the whole 'future dystopian society' thing. It's a brilliant idea and brings up all sorts of social ethics questions and theories.

For a year we caught his tears in a cup.

I just lost something I haven't ever given much thought to.
And I'm lying, to everyone and myself. I might as well implode, and use a metaphor about a tangled web of treachery and deceit. Oh well.

Hey, the streetlights all burnt out: Une année sans lumière.
I love that song. Let me give you a quick analysis.
Je montait un cheval, qui portait des oeillères.
(i climbed onto a horse, who wore blinders)
Hey, my eyes are shooting sparks, la nuit, mes yeux t'eclairent.
(the night, my eyes light you up)
Ne dis pas a ton pere, qu'il portait des oeillieres.
(don't tell your father, that he wore blinders)
Hey, your old man should know:
If you see a shadow, there's something there.

I've only just realised how great it is to be able to speak two languages.