it hurts to look at you.

I'm not all that good at having lots of time off. One of the good things about university is that I don't really have the option of spending all that much time alone. I'm not exactly a social creature by nature, so it's nice that I've had to work on my people skills a bit. The third week of my five week holiday has now begun, and though I've enjoyed it so far, I'm beginning to get a little bit bored, and more than a little bit grumpy. I have no money, no car and no desire to do anything but sit and watch rubbish t.v. all day long.

So that is what I have been doing. Big time.

Firstly, I've got into 'My So-called Life', which is melodramatic and depressing and everything a teenage drama should be. It stars Claire Danes and Jared Leto back when they were completely beautiful. Danes's drawling pearls of wisdom achieve just the right level of melodrama and even at the ripe old age of fourteen, she really was a rather good actress. It's honestly quite enjoyable. If you're in the right mood.




Next up is the almighty 'Friday Night Dinner' which is one of the best things that has been televised in really quite a long time. It has Mark Heap and Tamsin Greig in it, so I was always bound to be a fan, but I'm glad i wasn't disappointed.

I've also just got into series two of Glee, and am as yet undecided over whether it is so shit it's un-shit, or whether it's just shit. Your opinions are welcome, and I think I know on which side most of them will fall, but all I'm saying is that it's fun to find an hour every week to absorb yourself in a world where people express themselves through autotune and swap boyfriends every episode.

So yes, there has been lots of television. I'm not saying I haven't done anything else (just ask Baudelaire), but I am beginning to hear a Claire Danes-esque monologue in my head, so it's possibly time to get out. I went to Merry Hill earlier, but that wasn't exactly any better. Woe is me.

Phallic what now!?

"Feminist theorists have devoted some attention to the gun which Isabella desires, and the whip requested by Catherine at the beginning of the novel, reading both of these as phallic symbols. It is important to note that as phallic symbols they signify desire not for the penis as such, but for the power the penis represents." Good to know, York Notes. Good to know. You know that you have done too much revision in a day when stuff like this starts making sense. After all, what is English Literature without a bit of phallic symbolism? Innocent? Dull? Actually, it is exactly the same. Because you know what? We make it up! NO Septimus Smith's nervous habit of fiddling with his pen knife does not show us that he has erectile dysfunction. NO the dog's tongue in Wuthering Heights is not a bloody penis! AND the word 'prick' does not necessarily have rude connotations. It can just mean prick... Of course, if you are an A-level Lit student, you will know exactly what I'm talking about. The final straw for me was "Oh Remus Lupin? Well he's obviously a phallic symbol isn't he?!" (Mrs Lynn Byford) WOAH, woah. Hold it right there! I didn't let her finish. How could I? Lupin is the best fictional character of all time with his Atticus Finch-esque calm demeanour, wolfish tendencies and friendship with both Sirius Black AND James Potter (earning him instant cool points). I will not have him ruined as all other books have been ruined with all this trouser snake talk.

Right. Penis rant over, I have had a lovely week. The sun has been shining, I have dressed up as Hermione Granger (I am aware that with two Harry Potter references I am beginning to sound like a bit of a loon. This is a sacrifice I am willing to make) and I saw James Cracknell. THE James Cracknell I fell a bit in love with as he trekked through ice and put up with Ben Fogle's constant whinging. I was sat in a beer garden in Devon, and there he was! I was forced to cut my ogling short however, as one of his kids decided to vomit everywhere. Turns out this love is conditional...

I wish I looked a little bit more like Idina Menzel. Look at her! Just look! She's so awesomely talented and cool and... witchy. And so I am back on the Glee bandwagon after a bit of a rain check. I just watched last week's episode, and it was completely amazing. It combined my three main loves: Les Mis, cheekbones and dodgy sixties laments (in the form of The Mamas and the Papas). If you haven't seen it, it's well worth it. It even forged a place in my heart for Billy Joel. Not bad, eh?


On a side note... Ruthie might just rival Idina in the cool stakes. If only they didn't all have stupid names...

Haybridge, we hardly knew ye...

Today was a fairly fitting penultimate day. I woke up far too late, then found that we had no hot water (our bathroom is being refitted) so I had to have the kind of shower that's so cold, your head throbs in pain, so that was fun (it did wake me up, though). I then carved my feet up walking through town in my brand new gladiator sandals (I had to put some plasters on in T.K. Maxx.) Next, I went and drank tea at Christina's house and ended up crying in the car on the way to school when a particularly emotional song came on the radio. Then we dossed around a bit and ate biscuits before going to History and not discussing a single war. Excellent.

In the car on the way back, we accidentally listened to the Glee version of 'My Life Would Suck Without You'. You would think this song incapable of causing a grown girl to well up, but it well and truly succeeded. Man, I'm a mess...

The thing is, I'm not sure I'll ever feel quite as at home as I have done at this sixth form. It's a pretty special place, yes, but it's nothing compared to my INCREDIBLE friends. I don't have one best friend, I have about ten and I will miss them all so much. I think this is the reason I am so apprehensive about university; I know for a fact that I will never find friends who understand me and who I enjoy being around quite as much as our little group of rejects. It's love...

So thank you Haybridge High school. You made me, the laziest person on the planet work! You got me good grades, and, most importantly, I've had a bloody great time!

Lovelily lonely...

Long time, no blog! I got nine hours sleep last night after a day of absolute hell. The sleep set me straight again, so now I almost feel human again. The French exam on tuesday was by no means disastrous (despite fire alarms, no sleep and a bitch for an examiner) though I feel I could have done better. There's no point dwelling on it now, however, so it's time to finish off all coursework once and for all. I think things will get a bit better then. Maybe...

I've started reading Harry Potter again from the beginning. This can only be a bad thing, but it's a lifelong affliction. Like herpes. I'm only on book one, and I keep noticing little foreshadows of characters and occurences in the later books. It's pretty much awesome. Fine, it's not exactly a Booker prize winner, but it got me and millions of other kids into reading. Surely it's worth acclaim for this alone?

The sun makes everything seem a lot better, doesn't it? Coupled with the return of Glee, the return to school has been almost bearable. Only twenty six days left now. But who's counting? I considered applying for one of the post-sixth form jobs at school in September, but then I realised that I genuinely couldn't stay at Haybridge High School for another year if they paid me. Which they would be. Hmm, maybe I should reconsider...

I feel like I'm in the midst of a bit of a music revolution. I don't like blogging about music so I will keep it short and sweet.

• Belle and Sebastian - Just genius. The Boy with the arab strap, expectations and Piazza New York Catcher are all worth a listen
• Conor Oberst. Made my life. That is all.
  
• Stornoway - I saw you Blink is loveliness embodied. In song...
• She & Him - Who knew Zoe Deschanel could sing? Mind. Blown. If you Can't sleep is really good!
• The Mountain Goats - No Children is lyrically awesome. Actually, it's just awesome full stop. Really enviable writing.
  

traduire?

I should be writing an essay on the changing influence of public opinion on the conduct of warfare, or at the very least trawling through a truly horrific amount of French translation, but it's a Monday night, and as such, I am watching Glee. I am also quietly celebrating the return of my wireless connection, so instead of freezing my metaphorical balls off in Helen's room, I am nice and cosy in the lounge, drinking endless cups of tea to keep me sane in the face of all the trouble I will get in tomorrow due to the general lack of work I have done this half term. This year in fact. I really need to step up my game, get back on track and any other sports metaphors you can think of.

Now I know I do tend to ramble on a bit in my writing, but I have finally found a way in which I can channel this misdirected enthusiasm. Anna Muggeridge came into sixth form earlier having bought two Mills and Boon books for her mother's birthday. I was leafing through in my usual, cynical manner, expecting the books to be poorly written, but they weren't. They were abysmally written. I even spied the phrase "He whispered stuff in her ear." Then, to my horror, several of my friends admitted to reading these books without any sense of irony. One of these friends, I won't name names, is eighteen in two months, and it hit me. For her birthday present, I am going to write my very own romance novel. My friends and I set out the rules. It has to be as cheesy as possible, but I'm not allowed to be mocking. It will genuinely be my best effort at a story that the birthday girl will actually enjoy. Who knows? I may have found my calling... I hear those substandard authors are loaded!

Five days into the veggie thing, I have had my first proper meat craving. I was lusting over a greasy, disgusting sausage roll this morning. I didn't even eat those when I was eating meat! Nevertheless, I am determined to see this through. I haven't cheated at all!