Sunday, 28 November 2010

Wizard angst.

I got everything I need right here with me. I got air in my lungs, a few blank sheets of paper. I mean, I love waking up in the morning not knowing what’s gonna happen or, who I’m gonna meet, where I’m gonna wind up. Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world having champagne with you fine people. I figure life’s a gift and I don’t intend on wasting it. You don’t know what hand you’re gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you… to make each day count. 

I should warn you...there is angst upcoming. I'm sorry. I have a really pleasant music-y draft thing stored away but not today because I really cba.

So I have a Cambridge interview in a week tomorrow. I should emphasise this is no big deal - about 90% of applicants get one, so at least I'm not in the 10% but like I say. No big deal. 

But I'm starting to realise how much it means to everyone. My mom: "Emma I'll never want anything ever again if you get into Cambridge." My dad; singing to himself wandering around the house, an interview at cambridge, an interview at cambridge. Both of my parents are taking the day off work. My godmother has literally told everyone she knows about the niece she has who's applying to Cambridge. My friends all think I'm going to get in. EVERYONE THINKS I'M GOING TO GET IN.

I mean, what the actual fuck? Yeah, I'm alright at English, I write decent essays, I get a kick out of analysing books. But there's no way I'm Cambridge material. I hadn't even read a Jane Austen novel until last week. I don't know anything about the literary canon; I barely even know anything about war poetry, which I'm writing a 5000 word EPQ on. And Cambridge LOVE wider reading, I can't even explain.

Basically, I'm inadequate, mediocre-ly efficient, like I've always been and I've never tried to hide that but now all of a sudden I'm the academic, prodigal genius who lurrrrrves her subject to death. I don't even mind that, it's just the pressure to get in that's rising like a lump of volcano in the back of my throat and making my eyes a bit watery.

I won't be disappointed if I don't get in, but everyone I know will. That's not something I've felt before: even when it was a case of race to the A* at GCSE, I did not feel that pressure and it's horrible because all I've ever wanted is for my life to be my own. 

Air in my lungs and a few blank sheets of paper, that is all I want and need.

Sunday, 21 November 2010

My household is so much more pleasant when we win the football. Here is my dog celebrating our 1-0 win over Chelsea yesterday:

That will be all.

Thursday, 18 November 2010

101 reasons I'm gonna miss school so bad.

There's not 101 reasons.
I just goddamn love the place.

Such as this evening, our annual Evening of Dance. My little 7-9s were absolutely wonderful, I felt like a proud mommy sending them off. Our group was also amazing. Up there we're in Footloose costumes which is just THE SICKEST DANCE EVER. And then we did a 90s mix, which was equally epic.

I'm hoping someone's video'ed it too so I can whack it up here. 

Anyway, tonight we've raised about £700 for Brain Tumour UK and had so. Much. Fun. 

My week:
Monday: all day dance rehearsals
Tuesday: half day, three hours of dance rehearsals
Wednesday: day off, dance
Thursday: EVENING OF DANCE 2010!
Friday: Early finish, driving lesson, work (urgh, but money is money)
Sunday: ...not gonna lie, probably gonna need to do some homework  

Basically...excellent week :) 

Saturday, 13 November 2010

I'm getting old.

Thank god for Twitter, that's all I can say.

In context: I've recently been nursing a slightly unhealthy adoration for One Direction. It's unhealthy for two reasons: number one, they're on TV, ergo they're not real people. Number two, I think they're all younger than me, so it's borderline paedophilia anyway.

(Edit: actually, only the ones I actually think are fit are younger than me.)

Anyway, thank the lord for twitter, because they all use really bad grammar so now I've gone off them. That is all.


Guess who I served in Tesco today?

 Clue: it's not Lord Sugar or Nick.


P.S she put £170 worth of groceries through on the self-serve. That's pretty much unheard of dontchaknow.

Thursday, 11 November 2010

Why I wear my poppy with pride.

Today at 11am, my English class stopped our conversation about artichokes, bowed our heads and thought for 120 seconds about the sacrifices millions have made for us to be here today.
Today, my whole school and the vast majority of my country stopped dead for two minutes.
It's not a long time, is it? Two minutes a year.

And I'm not saying I condone war. I'm not saying I agree with the war in Iraq, the war in Afghanistan, the Boer War, both World Wars, the Crimean War, the Opium Wars, the Hundred Years War, the Wars of the Roses...whatever. The fact remains that there was war, and that people, millions and millions of people, gave their lives so that I could live mine.

(Warning: blant upcoming. Skip to the poppy picture if you cba)

Which is why certain acts make me sick. Okay, so you believe current wars are injust. Okay, so you believe British soldiers are going to hell.

I wish God existed so you could go to Hell. 

Private Herbert Burden, of the 1st Battalion Northumberland Fusiliers, who was shot at Ypres in 1915 aged 17 for refusing to fight.

I'm silent in memory of him. Do you consider Private Herbert Burden to be burning in Hell right now? Does the memory of Herbert Burden have anything to do with your crusade? 

I thought not. Okay, so you have beef, for legitimate reasons or not, I don't care. Save your protests for a day which isn't the closest thing to sacred and holy that I will ever believe in, save your protests for a day when the world isn't mourning the sacrifice of millions, save it.

And what's more, did you have to burn the poppy? Protest, fine, but by burning the poppy you're sending a completely different message to me. You're saying, I don't want you to hold these memories sacred. I don't want to be respectful.

Well I do. I don't care how important the issue, I don't care if someone murdered your Auntie Vera, save it for another day. Think Westboro Baptist Church but for the simultaneous funeral of everyone who died (or was injured) in combat. Would you gatecrash your innocent mother's funeral like that? No.

"Asad Ullah, of Muslims Against Crusades, said: 'We are demonstrating because this day is a day of remembrance to remember every single fallen soldier, including those killed in Afghanistan and Iraq.
'We find it disgusting that innocent people, innocent children, have been killed in an illegal and unjust war and we are demonstrating against that.
'We want the Government to pull the troops out from these countries and to stop interfering in our affairs.'
Mr Ullah added: 'We would like to have a protest closer to the memorial but it is difficult to get access. We want to break the silence and say, "What about the silence for others that have died?'""
(Quote taken from the Daily Mail Website)
Dear Mr Ullah, I understand your sentiments. I can even understand why you've done this: it's certainly garnered some publicity if nothing else.
But "British soldiers will burn in hell"? Burning a sacred symbol of international remembrance and mourning? Hardly in-keeping with your oh-so-moderate words.
Anyway, back to the point.


They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.


Tuesday, 9 November 2010


^ Check out my awesome mixed typography title.

Anyway, I missed my blog's second birthday in September, but conveniently, (and many thanks to this lovely lady for reminding me) my second ever blog post took place two years ago today.

Yes, it did take me two months to write my second post. It's been a slow journey, okay? Anyway, to celebrate, here is a song that is slightly relevant and also one of my favouritest songs ever.

Sunday, 7 November 2010

I love sparklers. And I love bonfires. And I love family, and christmas jumpers and wellies...all in all, Bonfire Night is for me :)

Friday, 5 November 2010

Falling in love in bookshops.

Am I the only one who does this?

You walk into a book shop because you have money and time to kill. Linger briefly over Angela Carter's Book Of Fairytales (far left) because the cover is so pretty but you can't justify the expense. Pick up a copy of Burning Your Boats because it's not bad value when you consider how much is in it.

And there, browsing the shelf next to yours,is hot, intelligent/shy-looking guy. Browsing books, just like you. Sharing your passion (or checking them out for school, who knows.) Because you read too many books, you're pretty sure you're going to fall in love and have several tiny intellectual babies with horn-rimmed glasses. You're going to get married, have picnics at sunset, watch the stars together...etc.

And then either time's up and you go, or he goes, and you make small talk with the cashier and rush out into the rain to get the train home.

Seriously, am I the only one who falls in love with guys in book shops on a disturbingly regular basis? My future husband better freaking like books or he can stick his marriage.

...heh :)

Happy Bonfire Night.

1. My last haircut was: Few months ago? That's pretty good. I usually get it cut about once a year, but I'm trying to change that because it looks a lot nicer short.

2. My most daring hair moment was: I really don't do daring hair :) I had it cut quite short once. But that was it, my hair's been more or less the same since I was five. Oh, and I guess dying it bright red was pretty daring :D

You can probably guess which one I am.

3. A hairstyle I'd never be brave enough to try is: I'd love to bleach it and go mega extremely red. But I have not got the balls to risk the bleach!

4. I've always dreamt of being a (blonde, brunette or red-head): Well I'm naturally a brunette and currently a redhead...but I'd love to try blonde. I just know it wouldn't work with me though.

5. My go-to hair do is: wash. towel dry. sleep. wake up. brush. clip annoying bit back off face. go.

6. My biggest hair disaster: I had an absolutely dreadful fringe when I was ten. It was thin, straggly, and greasy whilst I was in the middle of my chubster stage...bad times.

7. A hairstyle I am dying to try is: this is really random, but there's a hairstyle that Lily Van Der Woodsen did once in Gossip Girl that I really fancy having a go fact, let me try and find a picture...

Sorry about the random earrings underneath :)

8. My best hair day: ever? This.

9. The worst hairstyle I ever had: see question six!

10. My hair is: a symbol of my originality but also a completely impossible pain in the arse.

Thursday, 4 November 2010

Late night hypochondria

The problem with the internet is that anyone can self diagnose.

And I hate people who go "Yeah, I'm so OCD!" or "I'm probably on the Autistic Spectrum" or "idk, sometimes I think I've got Aspergers, or something."

You know why? Because it smacks of self-indulgence. So you've got a few problems in life; it makes you feel special to give them a name.
I understand that. Sometimes I tell people I'm hypermobile, because techically, using the official diagnosis criteria that doctors use, I am. But I don't say it often, because frankly, it's only useful when you want to seem exciting and/or different.

Old photo but check the elbow. That's hypermobile.

The internet is a devil, though. Like I say, I declared myself hypermobile using wikipedia. I also once convinced myself I had cancer using wikipedia. But tonight, I think I actually have discovered something that genuinely fits me like a glove, and it's called Avoidant Personality Disorder 

Characterized by a pervasive pattern of social inhibition, feelings of inadequacy, extreme sensitivity to negative evaluation, and avoidance of social interaction.

My lonely friend, she is lonely. P.S, I took this :)
[They] often consider themselves to be socially inept or personally unappealing, and avoid social interaction for fear of being ridiculed, humiliated, rejected, or disliked. 

A long list of symptoms:
  • Hypersensitivity to criticism or rejection
  • Self-imposed social isolation
  • Extreme shyness or anxiety in social situations, though feels a strong desire for close relationships
  • Avoids physical contact because it has been associated with an unpleasant or painful stimulus
  • Avoids interpersonal relationships
  • Feelings of inadequacy
  • Severe low self-esteem
  • Self-loathing
  • Mistrust of others
  • Emotional distancing related to intimacy
  • Highly self-conscious
  • Self-critical about their problems relating to others
  • Problems in occupational functioning
  • Lonely self-perception, although others may find the relationship with them meaningful
  • Feeling inferior to others
  • In some more extreme cases — agoraphobia
  • Utilizes fantasy as a form of escapism and to interrupt painful thoughts
Another gratuitous elbow pic. Imagine we're fantasising, okay?

Except the first, and the association aspect of the physical contact one, I genuinely believe all of these apply to me. Especially the last one. Fantasy...I've been making up stories in my head since I was tiny, all of them with a protagonist similar, but better than me. When I'm walking along the street (and I do still do this) I imagine someone else with me, I become someone else, I have imaginary conversations with myself.
Seventeen years old and I still have imaginary friends. Hm.

Anyway, there are actual diagnosis criteria, too. It is characterized by at least four of the following:
  1. persistent and pervasive feelings of tension and apprehension;
  2. belief that one is socially inept, personally unappealing, or inferior to others;
  3. excessive preoccupation with being criticized or rejected in social situations;
  4. unwillingness to become involved with people unless certain of being liked;
  5. restrictions in lifestyle because of need to have physical security;
     6.  avoidance of social or occupational activities that involve significant interpersonal   contact because of fear of criticism, disapproval, or rejection.
 Am I being ridiculous?  
I do genuinely believe all of these apply to me. It goes on to explain that a particular feature of AvPD is "excessive monitoring" of oneself and other people in a conversation, to the extent that it inhibits your actual conversation.
Now I'm not saying that, even if I do have a particularly avoidant personality or whatever, I'm about to start living my life defined by it. It's just surprised me that it fits me so well.
Hate me resent me dislike me for being one of those people if you like.
Actually I would really appreciate some advice, if anybody has any.
:) Emma