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.

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.

Life is Sometimes Not So Simple…

If I ever become famous, infamous, slightly more well-known that I am today or bored with just blogging, I will make videos like this:

 

Happy paying.

Oh, and it seems lots of people liked my wee forray into the world of publishing. I’d love to be all “watch this space for more work!” but the last five times I’ve tried that in posts, said space has shrunk to a size similar to that of the UK’s dry land. One day, snowflakes, one day…

Article Appreciation Post #1

I read a lot (surprise!) and in the last few weekes I’ve come across a handful of articles that I’ve really wanted to Tweet about. As there is now quite a collection, it’s time for a new type of ‘appreciation blog’, methinks…

‘The I’

Well, it made me laugh…

‘You’

Of course, worried lady, your daughter having a stable relationship with a woman instead of a man means she will miss out on life-long love and children. Of course it’s also a characteristic that can be changed with counselling. Too bad ignorance isn’t.

TheGuardian.co.uk

The rest of the article is here. I’m not sure what the author’s getting at entirely (I think he’s pro-reading and possibly pro-God), but it amused me.

‘Kerrang!’

I would like to let it be known that Taking Hayley were rather a decent band, especially after The Dead Betas, whose music was good but lacked the ability to make the crowd move from its neatly formed rows. I would also like to let it be known that Jimmy is – unfortunately – as funny as he thinks he is, and that Lyn-Z was laughing along, when I could see her at least. I have a drawing of Steve, in those cat ears that’s more telling of how excellent the show was than that article.

‘Kerrang!’

Trust me, the front row was ugly. I was in the second.

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.

Body Clock Time: 3:30am. Actual Time: 7:30pm.

Can I just say, Tighter is a lot of fun. So is the arty project thing I’m working on at the moment, which I can’t talk about until it’s done because I’m superstitious.

Just know, dear readers, that it is time-consuming enough that I keep forgetting to go to bed, which makes me kind of tired, and therefore more forgetful, which is why I haven’t blogged much lately… I think of things to tell you all, and I then promptly forget.

Writing that paragraph was actually difficult… I will not become a coffee addict. I won’t. Ahh.

Is this cruel?!

Before I forget: happy belated thirty-something birthday to LynZ Way, I will not be selling From Shibuya With Love for anything, although I will let you look and maybe touch for a reasonable price (I am open to other-than-cash suggestions) and I have loads to say, honest, I just can’t remember any of it…

This One Isn’t a Five Minute Job, I Promise. There’s Links.

  I feel that it’s been far too long since I posted a blog with words in, not least words that require thought processes, so I thought I’d sit down and have a nice little chat with all you computer-people.

  How is lent coming, I hear you ask… To be honest, I’m a bit crap at it. I keep forgetting! In Berlin I hadn’t eaten a meal all day, so when we got to the hotel and someone offered me an Oreo I practically inhaled it. I also devoured a couple of Jaffa Cakes (sorry Rhiannon) but I don’t think they count as biscuits. I ate a chocolate biscuity caramel thing on Saturday… it was a Twix, basically, but not by Twix, so I just ate it without thinking.

  Twice.

  In other news, I made marmalade yesterday. Well, I say ‘I’ and ‘made’ using the terms loosely. Mum helped and we aren’t sure if it set or not, but I’d had enough of the pan overflowing every five minutes after an hour, so we decanted it. Except the amount of liquid seemed to have grown instead of evaporated away, so we ran out of jars pretty quick. I can’t post a photograph because my camera’s batteries went in Berlin and I can’t find the spare ones. So imagine this, times about twelve, in various containers:

  A few of you may have seen the new Planetary (GO!) video which came out yesterday. If you haven’t:

  A lot of people have been saying they’re disappointed by the lack of cinema, story, etc. This is stupid. My Chem are a band and last time I checked, bands play music. So enjoy the lights and dance! Speaking as someone who was at the Hammersmith Apollo when this song was debuted, the reaction to which was what made them release it as a single, the energy has been captured perfectly.

  While we’re on the subject of My Chem, MCRmy.com has been relaunched! Yay! Let’s all go play Killjoys and Draculoids with our masks on!

  Talking of relaunching… Is it just me, or does this look rather like the Indifferent Ignorance font? Just saying.

  Happy World Water Day.