Going Back to Hell 101

No one ever did confess to being under the age of 11 so I’m going to assume you guys are in the same-ish age bracket as me and are school-age. By ‘school age’ I mean ‘in compulsory education’. I’m technically university age but am also technically on a gap year and I don’t have a clue how you degree-types work so I’m going to assume you guys have your shit together because this post is a guide to…

Going Back to Hell*

*In this instance “hell” can be taken to mean “school”.

Let’s level with each other first of all. I kind of hated school. I liked to learn – mostly – but I loathed deadlines and homework and pressure (seven years in a grammar school and a talent for being too conscientious made for one mini heart palpitation per day and cold sweats every fortnight. Oh, I’m kind of tense? Really? Ihadn’tnoticedI’monadeadlinefuckoffI’mfine). My favourite parts of lessons were when you could have conversations with friends and the teacher and learn without realising you were learning. Too bad it took until year 13 for that teaching method to really be okay with senior management…

So I was always reluctant to go back to school after the holidays. Every holiday, up to and including Easter 2014, I dreaded not just the first day back but all the days until my next piece of freedom. Once I was there I was fine. But I always resented my school for not being more like Hogwarts or Camp Half-Blood. (Why can’t we have 12 Christmas trees and a lava wall? What is wrong with singing furniture and classes lead by students with the best monster-killing record?)

In retrospect, not fully embracing my fate as a pupil at an all-girls English grammar school probably set me back. No lesbian jokes please.

Because when I think about it, if I had fully considered the workload, if I had understood that sometimes you have to play the game in order to finish it – woa I’ve been watching too much sport – I would have made the correct preparations. In, say, August.

Since I care very much that you all don’t spend nine months of your life wanting to stab your eyes out with you HB pencil, I have put together a short list about how anyone – yep, even you with your weird as shit academic situation – can make school slightly less shit. You’re welcome.

Step 1: Prepare

Did Mo Farrah just turn up to the Olympic Stadium and go for a jog to win those medals in 2012? No. I presume he planned that gig, preparing himself for the utter tedium of a 5 billion lap run. He was not taken by surprise by the circus he was in.

From madmanmadeofstraw.tumblr.com
From madmanmadeofstraw.tumblr.com

So let’s confront the facts: you have to go to school. No matter how late you stay up playing Sims pretending tomorrow is Saturday, you’re going to have to get yourself out of bed and learn some information at an absurdly early hour. Take a moment to fully appreciate this, since acceptance that you have a problem is the first step to solving it. (I hear the same concept applies to quitting drugs.)

Now you’ve faced the butt-ugly truth, it’s time to review your physical belongings. Your uniform if you have one. Your bag. Your pencil case. It has been pointed out to me that I buy more time buying stationery than I do clothes, which is totally justifiable because you can’t see every piece of clothing you wear but you do have to get your pencil case out five times a day, five days a week. So it’s got to look damn cute and actually hold pencils for more than a term. Now get yourself down to Staples and if your parents don’t want to pay for functional equipment, point out that if fineliners are the tools of Oscar winners, you need them to not fail A Levels.

Step 2: Organise

… and stay organised for as long as possible. That goes for setting deadlines, completing projects, revising for exams, planning your actual life around school, etc. You will definitely fuck up somewhere along the line – I once forgot to go on a school trip; Ellen forgot to go to an AS module. But you can keep your shit together for more than the first week of September by doing one teeny tiny thing: using the brain cells you just exercised in class to remember all the stuff you have to get done. Or if that’s not your gig, then by utilising your school planner and covering your calendar in so many notes it looks like a courtroom puked. Use colour coding if it helps/you want your calendar to look like pride week puked. Keep your timetable safe. Keep your passwords noted. If you’re planning to skip school to see your favourite band play in Camden, do that day’s work in advance. That way you’ll get to see JBiebs or Green Day or whoever floats your boat and your teachers won’t think you’re a delinquent arsehole for missing a topic for the immortal sight of Jimmy Urine sticking a phone down his pants.

For the record I never skipped class for a band. MSI was playing Camden on a godly scheduled teacher training day. No one had to negotiate homework to see Jimmy do something freaky.**

Ah, regrets.

Step 3: Retain Your Sense of Humour

 Sometimes your attitude toward the dickheads with whom you spend 35 hours a week is this:

From let-it-be-infinite.tumblr.com
From let-it-be-infinite.tumblr.com

Sometimes you and your non-dickhead friends will experience this attitude:

Intense Contemplation black-white-and-perfect.tumblr
From black-white-and-perfect.tumblr.com

But mostly you’ll be like this:

Psychos from clairedelunes.tumblr.com
From clairedelunes.tumblr.com

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is compulsory reading for anyone who’s school age, by the way. But seriously, the ability to laugh will get you through those lessons where the clock has definitely slowed down or the lunchtimes when your friends are gloating that they got higher marks in some test no one will remember in two years’ time. You might be laughing at yourself or the situation you’re in or maybe at somebody else (don’t be a dickhead to others to make yourself feel better though, it’s very year six).

Sometimes things will be very grey and if you’re having more than just a few low days, do everyone a favour and talk to someone – turns out teachers are people too, how about that – because if you’re going to get through school it should be in one relatively happy piece.

So there we have it.

Three golden nuggets of advice to make your life superduper perfect less shit. Hopefully.

**For the record, I can’t remember if Jimmy did actually put a phone in his pants. I do know, however, that he fake-called the Queen.

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Here’s a Half-Cut MSI Blog!

WP is being very, very slow uploading my photos and I have to go out (twice in one weekend, I know) so here is what’s worked so far. I will update the slideshow gallery thing when the rest have worked… stay tuned kids, Steve embarrassed me when I met him and only time will tell if that pizza was spiked….

Here are some pictures that deserve to be seen in full-size from the off:

This is Steve pretending to puke.

The band came out to the floor afterwards and did some signing, and I met Steve after listening him talk to a couple of guys who knew MSI from ages ago. As he was signing my ticket I told him that I made a t-shirt with his name on it for the last show but didn’t wear it because I figured I wouldn’t get to meet him. He looked at me and said “you’re a doody head.” Then he pointed down at me, looked at the other people milling around and said “She’s a doody head.” I laughed awkwardly and shuffled off.

It was like when a teacher laughs at you in class for asking a stupid question.

If you look really, really closely, you can see Lynz.
If you look really, really closely, you can see Lynz.

 

tumblr_mx2yf7hXan1qgdgmho1_500
Hollie’s dog Charlie really liked the merch the next day. (From her Tumblr.)

…  where you can read her brilliantly eloquent account of the show. Tatchiana’s thought (singular) is here.

There was a post-show hangover a bit on the tube home...
There was a post-show hangover a bit on the tube home…
... for Hollie anyway. Tatch and I were buzzing...
… for Hollie anyway. Tatch and I were buzzing…
Because here's evidence that I really did embarrass myself in front of Steve!
Because here’s evidence that I really did embarrass myself in front of Steve!

  Anyway enough about the actual show. Today I was telling my friends about meeting Steve and they said I should get “Steve, Righ? Called Mee a Doody Head” on a t-shirt for the next show and I said “I’m wearing that original shirt every show ever”. Then I looked up a jumper I didn’t get to buy at the show and searched “Mindless Self Indulgence merch 2013” and what should come up?

'Mindless Self Indulgence merch 2013'

Ah yes, the Internet is shitting on me now too.

The pizza wasn’t spiked by the way – it turns out random strangers being nice can sometimes be… random strangers being nice.

This Post Contains the Best Thing I’ve Ever Made.

Working on the Indifferent Ignorance Awards because 2014 is horribly close (I always hate the imminent year, like it’s bullying the current one or something) and I’m not sure what the ‘novelty’ categories should be. I mean, I’m thinking that I should get either the best friend ever award, or best card ever award, but I think in the spirit of democracy you guys should nominate me.

Via Chloe
The Outside
The Inside
The Inside

From Chloe’s Tumblr. This is probably a good time to mention that I also have a Tumblr. I’m mostly telling you because if anyone stumbles across it and is all “Francesca y u no tell”, you’ll know my answer – you use phrases like “y u no tell”. Plus it’s a good way of keeping track of artists I like and is a nice forum to test-drive possible future work (as well as being somewhere for me to vomit my love for various things, which I will continue to do here but with more emphasis on making sense). I’m not abandoning you, little blog. I just sometimes need somewhere to express my inner book-based feelings. Oh sod it.

This song is beautiful and perfect.

This song is if Rick Riordan gave certain people a glimpse of happiness.

This lady’s art will one day kill me. Look at it. Look.

 

Moving Image Appreciation Post #3

Haven’t done one of these in ages. Let’s go!

Bearanormal Activity

Jimmy and Chantal used to have a foster dog. Sometimes he’d steal things.

 

God’s Diary is Embarrassing

 

There’s a thought.

The 7 Worst Things About Wearing Glasses

 

I like to wear contacts and glasses, depending on the day or event, although I’ve been on a glasses spurge recently because I’ve been so busy and tired. When it snows, I’m whipping those lenses out so fast you won’t have time to say “Are those actual Ray Bans?” (Yes they are.)

Siberian Husky Dog Plays In A Giant Pile Of Leaves

Fred and this pooch have a lot in common.

 

“It is a long time since my last visit… I must say, your agapanthuses are flourishing.” (and by ‘agapanthuses’ I mean ‘willingness to read whatever shit I throw at you’)

And by ‘are’ I mean ‘is’.

This may sound slightly unprofessional of me, but I hope you’ll forgive me when I say that my Googling skills have been diminished somewhat because I spent about two-thirds of my half term rereading Harry Potter (which is also, incidentally, why I’m trying to talk like Dumbledore):

Does anyone know the name of the Indifferent Ignorance font? I originally found it on Picnik when Picnik worked, I definitely downloaded it from DaFont and I could have sworn I wrote it down. Alas, the Internet is shitty and I can’t find my notes. I thought it was called ‘Raschundo Erado’ or something similar – there was an ‘R’ and an ‘E’ in there somewhere, I’m certain of it – but either my minor Internet absence has taken with it my ability to talk like Jimmy Urine and be investigative, or the designer’s decided to withdraw usage rights.

I’ve found it. One Google search and I’ve found it. It seems that every time I gain a literary stripe, I lose an Internetz widget… My IQ is going down with increased use though; I’m trying to spot myself.

The Meaning of Life.

Last night my friends and I had the wonderfully scarring experience of seeing Mindless Self Indulgence play at the HMV Forum in Kentish Town. We’ve put together a list of everything we learnt:

  1. Queueing is wonderful when you have a black Sharpie and meet people who love Queen, and stand next to the door from which band members occasionally emerge (see #3).
  2. Never half-arse something. Always do it full-arse.
  3. Steve, is the most beautiful man in the world, but only appears when Hollie leaves, prompting insane picture-taking.
  4. The worst thing that can happen is that we won’t be able to sit down for a week.
  5. Jimmy’s grandpa has a thoughtful grandson.
  6. Mindless are a Christian band…
  7. …But LynZ’s a witch.
  8. It’s one thousand pounds to discuss our feelings, but three thousand to discuss Jimmy’s.
  9. We will never, ever, ever be famous. Neither will Hollie.
  10. We all have AIDS.
  11. Jimmy might have started World War III. Watch this space.
  12. Steve may one day host his own chat show. It’ll centre around teaching audience members Mindless songs and grooving along to Queen singalongs.
  13. When Jimmy appears, short people get crushed, so they run for the stairs and take pictures of other people getting crushed instead.
  14. I’m going to have to cough up for that damn new record, because it turns out they’re actually pretty good.

More pictures and videos to come, especially if Jimmy uploads what he took.

In case you hadn’t twigged, I’m not partaking in ‘Post a Day’

Why hello, children. Happy 2012!

I know it’s the seventh, but I’ve been struck down by a case of Back to School Itis and a cold. But never fear, because I have some YouTube videos that you can watch, instead of me telling you what it was like having someone play the drum part of DESTROYA on the inside of my skull.

 

Hedwig. Hedwig.

 

So true, and so sad. Thank you Chantal Claret for posting this on Twitter!

 

Thank you Jimmy Urine for posting this on Twitter. Let’s unite! (I don’t even watch Star Trek.)

I’m sort of, possibly in the processes of planning some excellent blog posts across this year, but my workload is nearly as tall as me, so in the words of Miranda’s posh friend, “Bear with, bear with…”

Complaining About Kerrang! Magazine and Other Links to YouTube

   I’m still in the middle of catching up with everything, so I’m going to post a blog that I originally wrote for the mini-series I’m Somewhere Hot and You’re Probably Not in August, which never published because I forgot to press buttons.

  If that doesn’t keep you ticking over, then go and vote for My Chem at the EMAs (Best Alternative and Best World Stage), ask me anything on Formspring and enjoy VenetianPrincess terrorising people at Disneyland.

In Which I Complain About Kerrang! Magazine

   After reading a glowing iTunes festival review about My Chem in the Kerrang! published 30th July, and laughing at the Frank Iero poster in the very same issue, I was content and not expecting to see anything about any of the other two bands I follow. Until I saw this:

  Yes, Mr. Beebee, The Left Rights offer as much to society as fly tipping. But, er, what do you expect? It’s Jimmy Urine and Steve, Righ?. Mindless Self Indulgence.

Mindless. Self. Indulgence.

I haven’t actually gotten around to listening to the whole album, because I’ve been putting off buying it since its release in November, and I’m not YouTubing forty-one songs in the order they’re tracked in. But it’s Jimmy and Steve. Making noise. Which I’ve noticed they do rather well. So enjoy the madness, and, for our own entertainment:

Anyway, I can’t take a magazine seriously if the editor’s note hasn’t been edited… Spot the mistake.