It Rained Today. It’s Not Raining Now.

  Greetings from my back garden. I’d take a picture but I’m too lazy to fetch my camara. I’m too lazy to do anything more than slurp noisily from the glass of melted ice cubes sitting next to me, now I think about it. Though to be honest, the ice cubes taste a bit strange. Our freezer is about twenty-five years old.

  I really ought to write Ruby’s birthday present (happy birthday Ruby!), a story about dodos, but I am going to my nan’s soon for her birthday so I’ll suspect I’ll pull another late night/early morning stint. Well, early morning, because I don’t do late nights. Most of the time I am in bed by nine, with a book on one side, my diary on the other and a few suffed toys perched somewhere. I love early mornings instead. It’s quiet, peaceful, the birds tweet and sound nice… Unless they’re the pigeons that nested outside my bedroom windows a few months back. They cooed as soon as it got light.

 Because I haven’t got any pictures, here are my two newest haikus, now on FictionPress for everyone to comment on, if you’d be so kind.

Ebay

Odes to Food I am going to add more to this one, because chemical energy is easily as good as a chemical romance. Don’t tell Gerard, but I think food is better.

  Before I forget, I was thinking of making a video blog/log/vlog/amateur TV show with my camcorder in Greece. Will it be an epic waste of effort or do you all want to listen to my beautiful thoughts as well as read them?

24°C, 50% Humidity, 5MPH wind, Summer?

  I like blogging on a Sunday. Maybe it’s because Sunday is a good day to look back as well as forward, and become very zen. Or maybe it’s because I’m looking for an excuse not to do my homework.

  I’d like to tell you all that I’ve got an Exiting New Project in the pipeline, or that I’m recording an album or writing a book, but that would be lying. Yesterday I went to the beach with a bunch of kids from school and today I accompanied my family to Maxim’s boxing show/convention/almost competition. It was slightly amusing watching Maxim in the ring, although I will admit I sucked in my breath when a dude at least two years older and three inches taller than Max bashed him in the nose.

  Hey, I have to be a big sister sometimes.

  If anyone in the Kent/London area finds a yellow beach ball with a smiley face bobbing along the Thames, give me a bell and I’ll tell you where to return it. We, ahem, lost it at the beach, approximately five minutes after I forked out four quid for it. Then again, it was me who misjudged the wind’s power and chucked in the wrong direction in the first place…

  Oh, and tell off any jellyfish you find floating around. Apparently their stings hurt as much as the broken glass and syringe needles on the Thames floor. However, you haven’t experienced Essex until you’ve swallowed part of the Estuary and scratched your feet on the sea floor. Or had a mud fight using said sea floor as ammunition.

 My prediction for the England versus Germany game is that we will lose. The karma from the wars has to come back sometime. Or would that be us one upping the Nazis?

 

The Summer Solstice… Was a Few Days Back.

  I’d love to put some pictures on here to illustrate the last week or so, but I’m afraid I don’t have any. It’s not for lack of trying. The camara wouldn’t focus on the picture of matches I took on Duke of Edinburgh. I don’t have any of my outfits from the Insight Into Industry days, either… Just imagine me sweating, wearing a Ghostbusters t-shirt and a high-waisted skirt with anchors on it. Not together though. I may have wanted to wear an outfit my mother considered “Dykeish,” but I do know some boundaries.

  Wait, I lied. Here’s the warning on the matches I took to Danbury:

You will be delighted to discover that my group on the Industry day put aside our cultural differences with Barack Obama (IT’S AMERICAN OIL, SUCKER) and replicated him using a plastic bottle, some corks and The Daily Mail. I don’t have any pictures of that, either, because I am not on Facebook. We didn’t win the competition for best sales pitch and product, even though we should have. Maybe it was my short shorts or the fact we were clearly superior in intellect and looks to the judges?

  I believe that today, my friends, is the beginning. Not of the apocalypse (I hope) but of summer. I am so exited, I even made it bold. No more exams as I failed the Physics module this afternoon, brilliant weather, a trip to the beach on Saturday, the final Doctor Who, new series of Top Gear. All the factors are there, and my relief is only marred by the fact I have a suspicion MCR will release big stuff about their new album on International MCR Day, the 23rd July, which is the day I go to Greece on holiday for a fortnight. I will find a computer and Twitter my little heart out at some point while I’m there, though. Might even treat you all to a foreign blog…

  Oh, before I get distracted by Mindless Self Indulgence shirts, I have come to a realisation as to why there have been ten subscriptions via comments to this blog, but there are only four subscribers. You go to the sweet sidebar to your right, and click on the button that reads ‘this button will seal your fate’, underneath ‘click here to enjoy my opinionated tones more often’. Shove in your email and you’ll get an email telling you’ve subscribed, and then another one when I blog. Subscribing to the blog itself in the comment bit just subscribes you to that piece of writing, which is a bit wierd.

  The t-shirt, in question, by the way, is this:

Mindless Self Indulgence - Cartoon Characters T-Shirt They don’t do any in purple.

Look, I’m Creative!

  Guys! Shameless plugging time!

  I’ve finally got off my arse and written a ‘poem’. I know virtually nothing about poetry or love, so I have no idea how I ended up with a poem in the ‘love’ category of FictionPress…

  Anyway, here is Musical Instruments.

  It’s strange, I’ve been telling myself for ages to get up and write something that isn’t about my life, and then I’m sitting in my grandparents’ house feeling a bit depressed and bam! We have inspiration.

  Saying that, I’d rather not have a poem and feel totally normal… Possibly. Maybe. I actually have no idea. Let’s hear it for confusion!

  Please, please, please, read and review. I will love you forever. It doesn’t matter if you’re not a member of FictionPress, you can just put your name in the box with a few words about my amazing poetry skills.

  Should I stick to haikus????

We’ll Thank Our Parents Eventually

  Here are some skills useful to that scary thing called life and adulthood, as far as I can tell. I will check off the ones I think I have achieved in the last fourteen years.

Shoelace tying

Going to the loo/showering/cleaning/dressing yourself, by yourself

Reading

Writing

Halfway decent knowledge of what’s going on in the world now, way back when and what could happen in the next decade. Also knowing your capital city, continent, where you live, head of state, monarch.

Being nice to people you dislike Wait. Can’t cross it all out, I’m still working on this. I’m so transparent people can tell how I feel by a glance to my face. However, I can rest easy because adults are crap at this. Did you see Ian Hislop and John Prescott on Have I Got A Bit More News For You?! Jesus. I bet the producers were biting their nails the whole way through, going, “Please don’t let this turn into a brawl or Russel Brand-esque situation!”

Being nice to people you like I got issues with this one too. It should be a piece of cake, but I reckon I think the world of someone, they’re only human and screw up, I freak out, hate them, get confused, forgive them, don’t trust them and decide I’m a plonker because at the end of the day I don’t want to be singing ‘I Don’t Love You.’ Not that you’d be around to hear it, my dancing is so atrocious you’d run a mile as soon as I started ’emotionally swaying’ to Toro’s melody.

Talking to strangers in the workplace/members of the public who aren’t possible sex offenders No. Not at all. Give me a million years. I still get sweaty palms talking to assistants in Boots about where the toothpaste is.

  So, my brain notwithstanding, I think this is a very good list. All I need to do is practice communication, articulation and making my face move into a smile. Remember, Francesca, eyebrow gymnastics just makes your glasses fall down your face.

  Anyone got anything to add to the list? I was thinking of reviewing it in five years’ time.

  Oh, and if any of you think you’ve subscribed by commenting, kindly click the subscription button on your right then confirming it from your email. Otherwise I don’t know who you are and that makes me sad.

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

  Or, in this case, a silver wedding anniversary for my second cousins in Romford that involved no one knowing anyone while knowing everyone because we are clearly all from the same gene pool, judging by the olive skin, dark hair and interesting nose. I definitely saw a Maltese cross around my dad’s cousin Les’s neck.

  I don’t have any photos as the only one with a fraction of all the family in was taken on a fancy Canon camara by someone who wasn’t related. Possibly. Anyway, here are some snapshots of my half term:

  Wednesday, chores for cash:

Thursday: sunshine, ice cream, trampoline:

 

 

 

Thursday night, camping in the tent in our garden:

 

 

 

  Friday: beach with the girls

 

 

 

 

 

From: Ruby     To: Frank

I have such a drain brain, it drains even more than that hole in the oil pipe in the Gulf of Mexico D:

 
And so, as my brain was draining away onto the floor, I happened to look down and see a shiny little puddle (which bore quite a lot of resemblance to mercury, might I add) with you on it, pulling a face that somewhat resembles this:
 
>:U
 
or maybe
 
D:<
 
And I reached down, and with the end of my fountain pen scooped the little shiny puddle up into my hand, before proceeding to reinsert it into my ear.
 
and then,
FLASH
 
The sun went out, and thunderbolts stared raining down on my head and the ground shook beneath my feet, and I was duly frightened.
 
And then an image of God (although, now I think about it, he did bear quite a lot or resemblance to my angry next door neighbour) appeared in front of me and said:
 
‘Oh smite ye, mere earthling, as you stand at my feet trembling, for you have disobeyed the word of FRANK.’
 
And I knelt down at his feet and asked, in trembling tones ‘What have I done’.
 
And God proceeded to say ‘It is what you have not done that has displeased FRANK so mightily’
 
And then I remembered about the bicarbonate of soda, that was sitting innocently in the cupboard behind. I whirled around and grabbed it, before brandishing it at the face of God and crying out ‘Forgive me O God who looks like my angry next door neighbour, for I have truly sinned.’
 
His voice then boomed out ‘This is good. I shall forgive you this time mere earthling, but next time you shall not be so lucky’, and with this he vanished with a puff into the ceramic vase by the TV.
 
By Ruby.
 
  Here is the aforementioned bicarbonate of soda, which Ruby made seventy-three fairy cakes with last week. I am not making that up, nor are the following pictures Photoshopped.
 
 
 

The First of the Month is a Good Time to Gain Perspective, Possibly

  I try really hard not to go all emoshit artistitis on here, but I’m afraid I need to take a moment to gather my thoughts.

  Firstly, raise your hand if you feel inferior to someone once a day, or maybe once every couple of days. Me too. It’s hard to deal with, especially if the person/people you feel inferior to are the ones you go to school or work with. It’s much, much more tough when the person is one of your closest friends.

  Take, for example, where I sit in Physics. Front of classroom, nearish the door so I can escape as quickly as possible and use the fresh air to stay awake when the Bunsens are on. I really wish I were somewhere else, because on one side I’ve got someone who is a genius and knows  it, and never seems to have any trouble understanding Ohm’s Law. On the other I have someone who doodles a lot and forgets homework more than I forget to feed Fred. Both are A* students easily. I have spent the last year poking myself to stay awake in the most boring enviroment in SHSG, scowling over my homework and actually attempting to make my handwriting legible. I’m pretty pleased to say that most of the time I succeed. One of my earliest memories is of my dad showing my brother and I how a filament lightbulb works… Electrical stuff is hardwired into my brain, most of my family is can put together and design circuit boards and rewire bathrooms.

  Technically, I ought to be good at Physics. I actually am if I concentrate, but no matter how hard I work, I’ll always be worse than everyone else and think I’m crap because that’s just the way it goes. I’ve asked myself more times than I care to count why I’m still in a grammar school, and the only explanation I can come up with is that I am good excellent at English. No one is going to make me feel bad so long as I am wielding a Pilot V7 Hi-Techpoint, let me tell you.

  I don’t know what I’m getting at here (I’ve only been up a couple of hours and breakfast was a strawberry jam/peanut butter/chocolate spread sandwich), but I’ve been thinking about this for a while I guess that this week’s epiphany/Life Lesson is that life sucks eighty-five per cent of the time and all you can do is work bloody hard, sleeping easy with the knowledge you actually wrote the homework down and ‘exercised your brain’ while doing it, even if the end result was a bit dodgy.

  Happy First of June. Oh, and I wasn’t kidding about that writing challenge. My half term projects are to finish Watchmen (Rorschach isn’t Rorschach without the costume) and put together a model four-stroke internal combustion engine without setting myself on fire. Also, I know a lot of people have subscribed to this blog. You need to go on your email and confirm it or I don’t think it works… And that would be sad.

***EDIT/UPDATE***

  I made some friends for the Black Sheep of the Kleenex Box.

 

 

 

 

 

  I don’t know how well the pictures show up, but there’s another black sheep so they can mate and infest the world with mouton noirs, a spotty one with a weight/fluff problem, a stripy dude and a punk rock guy. They’re awesome.

  Also, while I’m thinking about it, please comment and tell me what you think of earlier’s emoshit rant. Did I sound like someone who dies their hair black for attention?!