Lists and lists of everything...

I've got a fair few lists constantly churning in my head. Shopping lists, to-do lists, work schedules, etc etc. But there's a few others which I try to remember specifically, like all 44 American Presidents, all 195 countries of the world, and the capital cities; all 50 states of the US plus their capital cities... and some random new words, but that list isn't completed, or organized, at all.

But my personal lists are my favourite. Things which I can rank. Here's just a selection:

'Top Celebrity Women' (this is both who I'd like to be, and who I'd like to be with)
1: Eliza Dushku
2: Erica Durance
3: Cobie Smulders
4: Allison Mack
5: Emma Watson
6: (joint) Sarah Chalke / Elisha Cuthbert
8: Beyonce
9: Alyson Hannigan
10: Diana Agron

(some constantly change, like positions 5,6 and 7 - and position 10)

'Top Male Celebrities' (just who I'd like to be with. I'm shallow, I know)
1: Zac Efron
2: Jared Leto
3: Jake Gyllenhaal
4: Josh Hartnett
5: Ryan Reynolds

(from 6 to 20 I have no real preference of who goes where... top 5 is pretty important though!)

Favourite Films (for whatever reason) of all time:
1: The History Boys
2: High School Musical 3
3: Donnie Darko
4: Moulin Rouge
5: Saw

And most recently I've been thinking about TV shows: this could easily change, but for now, here's how it stands:

First, shows that no longer air:
1: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
2: Friends
3: Jonathan Creek
4: Doctor Who (with David Tennant)
5: The X Files (only recently discovered it's not as terrifying as I remembered, from being 7)

Second, still airing:
1: Glee & Misfits (its joint, because having just Glee would be a bit embarassing)
3: How I Met Your Mother
4: Smallville
5: Californication
6: The Big Bang Theory
7: Skins (although not up to date, so probably belongs in the list above!)

Have kind of run out.... but I am on a mission to watch more Tv. And Firefly. But first, 10 seasons of Smallville - I've got some catching up to do!

I think it's important to know your favourite things: every day you should incorporate something you love into the rest of your life: if it's having porridge for breakfast (absolute yummers!) or writing an essay on The History Boys, I think true passion and joy go hand in hand with excelling and success.

It's also good to enjoy the company of your friends and loved ones. If you don't - ignoring the obvious problem of 'you weirdo' - then your potential to be happy is thwarted. So take your happiness with you, where ever you go, and let your happiness shine!

Shakespeare must have had cracking dreams

Right, so this entry is in fact a 'dream entry', but I want to start with something else. They say (they being some cambridge scholar types who like to come up with statistics about classic novels) that the most commonly misunderstood line in the English speaking world is "romeo romeo, where for art thou romeo?" - which doesn't mean "romeo, where are you?", it means "romeo, why is your name romeo" (relating to him being a Montague, a family which her own are in a sort of 'battle' with). But another quote that people don't get annoys me. 

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

Now, this (frankly brilliant) quote comes from Hamlet's 'to be or not to be' soliloquy, which most figure out, 

talks about the difference between life and death. And people think that "to sleep, perchance to dream" is a 

phrase about how mystical and fab dreams are. A girl I know even got this tattooed on her wrist (with the 

wrong act and scene numbers, hilariously). But its about the 'mortal coil' of life - that if sleep is a metaphor 

for death, - imagine the 'dreams', or visions of heaven, hell, purgatory etc, that lie beyond death. Shakespeare

also wrote a lot about his own mortality, and I think its the greatest education a 16 year old can get. Don't 

worry about your own life, worry about what you can leave in this world that might last an extra 70 years, or 

in Shakespeare's case, 400 years. That's kind of why I want to be a writer.

Anyway, from one great mind to... well, mine, which doesn't compare to Shakespeare's. My dream. Wow.

Firstly, I was with a few people - I remember Martin, Maria and Santa being there. Possibly Lucy and Carlo,

but not entirely sure. We'd all decided to walk together to this big uni event - it was like a special lecture or

something. Anyway, we were late. I think because we all stopped to get cookies. And we saw, being late, that

almost the entire uni faculty and students were there. This blonde, tall woman (looked a lot like Fenner to be

blunt) was giving this enigmatic talk that they were all totally sucked into. And then I saw someone from class,

I want to say it was Macina, but I'm not sure, and he totally blanked all of us, came out of the room, got some

water, and went back in. He was basically brain washed. We realised this woman was evil, but as soon as we 

realised, the doors burst open and people started swarming out - we ran and hid in a really small room, that

had a door at either end, so we could get away if needed. And as we crouched in there, I saw Matt walk past.

It dawned on me that not everyone would be brain washed, so we opened the second door and found

Rhianmor and Sophie, both looking really confused. They said they were fine, but the next place they were 

headed to would definitely brain wash any of the unaffected people. They hid with us, and then we saw the 

the 'army of Fenners' - there were about 12 of them, all taking people off into smaller groups. Sophie wanted

to find Matt, and Maria wanted to find weapons, so I snuck out and followed the women to their office-like

room. Morris and Marc, two lecturers least likely to be found at uni, were captured, and giving information

about the goings-on of the uni. I waited until blonde gits had left, then found a kitchenette with a knife block -

weapons! So stocked up, also found a black baseball bat, and it fitted perfectly into my lara croft-style belt.

Untied marc and morris, but a woman came in - did a perfect throw with the knife, got her right between the

eyes, and she fell forward, revealing two people behind her - the money, basically. They said they thought 

something was fishy, and ran. Morris followed them, and I ask Marc to take me to each room, so I could 

save our friends. We saw most of the class, except Matt, in one room, but continued searching, found the

room Matt was in, and Marc entered being all 'playing the part'. It was a lecture theatre, so he went in the 

main door, and I sneaked in the top door at the back, and basically snuck Matt out without causing a ruckus.

I gave Matt a massive knife, and he happened to have this weird flail-like weapon too - we bust open the first 

room with most of class in and went MENTAL. Like, blonde gits dying everywhere. Some class members ran,

others were too brain washed, so fought back. I had to kill Bowring (what a shame) and Liam was doing kung

fu on half the fiction writers. Oh, and Adam and Kerry had turned too, but were holding Coates hostage. Matt

almost killed him, but my excellent throwing of knives got Adam in the neck, so Matt flailed Kerry's face and

we ran. But then there were loads of little kids, and I think we just fought blondies for ages. The dream kind 

of ends here - but we had to sleep at one point, and Maria had found a massive supply of potatoes, so she 

boiled them up and we had a pretty good dinner, and Matt stayed up to guard as we slept. Random.

Next dream: we had a class project to write a new reality tv show. Nothing very exciting happened. Next 

thing I know, my dad is driving me home, and he's towing a burger van. We're on this massive road, and a 

van has overtaken someone, and is basically inches from hitting us, and gets past. I freak out, but dad is fine. 

Then it happens again, but this time with a lorry, so dad kind of drives off the road. But then there is a massive

que of traffic, and the thing headed for us is an american-style truck (like optimus prime's car), so he swerves

massively and the van unhooks and goes flying. He can't control the car though, so we spin off onto a field. I 

run away, and see this tree that has a rope. I start climbing, and beyond the hill is a guy parked in a lay-by, and

I recognize him, but from another dream. I walk over and he offers me a ride to his, so I can clean up. But, this

is where it gets weird. This family is weird: mother and father, two sons, and a daughter and her husband.

They all know who I am - I was in a plot that killed their other son, Daniel. But the son I'm with, Jared, was 

part of the plot too, so he doesn't care. The daughter wants to kill me, but her husband secretly paid Jared to

kill Daniel. The other son, I think he was called Jimmy, doesn't say much, but is basically Ethan Hawke. He 

talks about the fucked up things he's done in life - from being a CIA guy following Uri Orlov, to having two

romantic nights in europe, to going into space and his best friend burning alive. Odd. But Jared wants us to 'be 

alone' and I'm convinced he's going to try kill me, so we're on this bed, and he's putting the moves on, but I'm 

ignoring it, waiting for him to strike. Turns out he doesn't want to kill me, but his parents do, so he's trying to

give them a reason to not kill me - he pretends to be in love with me. I remember my dad's car crash and want

to get back to him, but the parents won't let me leave the house. Then it turns kinda Salt-ish, because I reveal

that I'd pretended to be in love with Daniel before I killed him. Jared says he knows - he was going to do the 

same thing. His sister found out what her husband had done, so paid Jared to take me out. I realise that this is

because I was the first person the husband was ever with - and daniel had got in the way because he thought 

I was only around because of him. I eventually do some weird-ass kicking of faces, shimmy up a rope onto the

roof, see the tree from before and run like hell. My dream kept telling a deeper story - like I had had all these 

dreams before - and I know Jared's face. I can't place him, and his name definitely isn't Jared, but god, it was 

weird. And the mother kept called me a whore, because I'd slept with all of her sons. Don't know when I'd 

been with Jimmy/Ethan, but hey. Weird!

And yes, that was all one night's worth of dreaming. Crazy. I should really set an alarm: sleeping til 12 makes 

my head do funny things! 

Holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night...

A recent discussion of the difference between heroes and idols has started me thinking. I reckon, speaking as someone who has read greek mythology and the like, shakespeare's finest and a whole lot of kids stuff in the middle - I reckon a hero is someone who is deserving. A damsel in distress needs a hero; an idol, however, is just this newer version of a hero. In the Greek stories, all the heroes have similar qualities, because back then, if you weren't muscley, you weren't any good as a worker. If you weren't clever, or independent, or motivated, you'd never have anything to drive you. But now, an idol is just a figure which aspiring little shit-bags want to grow up like. Wayne Rooney is an idol: he's adulterous, he's conceited, he is raping our nation of money he doesn't deserve and he's not exactly 'one in a million': considering our population of almost 7,000,000,000: how many people play football professionally? How many teams are there in England alone - oh wait, there's like 6 leagues, there's so many. Then the Scottish leagues. And that's only England. When you really think about the maths, football isn't very impressive. Tennis, golf, snooker... maybe even darts! When there's so few people who maintain a high standard THEMSELVES, they can be classed as 'one in a million', or whatever. Of course, some team sports are impressive: ice hockey, MY GOD. Ever tried to play hockey on grass? Not easy. Now imagine you're sliding everywhere. Jesus! And rubgy - I'm sorry, but the 'off-side' rule is nothing compared to the whole 'you can only throw behind you' stuff - which leads onto Polo, the most technical game in the world. And that also takes a lot of skill in training ponies too. I'm not big on sports, as I never excelled at school, and I've always been bitter about it. But I appreciate what is and isn't hard, athletically, and football is probably one of the easiest sports, particularly in England, to get into. But that doesn't stop the thousands of people, who despite being educated, and clever, and independently thinking beings, they still are sucked into the highly consumer-driven world of Football, and everything false it represents.
Just to be fair, I'll point the finger at Norwich. If you took Aviva off their shirts, shot Delia Smith in the head and only let people from Norwich play (and manage), they would not be so high in the league. So whats more important, the pride of the canaries, and winning, or actually having some true sporting meaning behind it. Blackball - random film the clown used to watch a lot - kind of expresses the hypocrisy of sports, and the media behind sports.
The biggest gear-grinder for me, though, was last night. The boys, discussing Arsenal vs Barcelona - someone actually said the phrase "Barcelona were playing like a real Spanish team". What, in the name of everything, the FUCK, does that mean??? Boys, I'm sorry, I know you love it - but you all know as little as each other about these things. You cannot pretend to know the tactics of each country's way of playing. Its not impressive, for one, and more so, you sound like a douche.

Ah, wait off my chest. Now, if only this weren't falling on bored ears...

Life is one big list to me...

Back in Norfolk, for a few days. Have seen three friends, all of whom I have known for quite some time. And seeing each of them, some good friends I don't see enough of, others odd friends I can't get rid of, I realised how much I cherish memories. Not just "oh, remember that night? Hilarious!" or the like, but actual memories that someone has made stick in my head, like the smell of a mans aftershave or the accent one does when taking the piss. You could even call them idiosyncrasies, but I dont want to, as that word is driving me crazy. Either way, its those moments I want to reflect on - to add more meaning to one of my many pointless lists, the only other person in the world who knows this list is Millie, and unfortunately, she doesnt follow my blog. Shame.

1: My memory of this person is tainted with years of questions of the fateful night on which he started this list. And its almost my own fault he's on the list - I don't like to count it, but I guess he is the first person. I've forgotten all the good memories, like the carnival and Kier's parties and my parties... I don't really know what there was, except I remember one morning waking up in the Garage (Canadian cousins had taken over my room), I went straight to the computer, logged on to MSN and wrote "morning sexy" to him; the rest is history I guess, but I remember how excited I was. I should try hold that in my head, instead of dark thoughts about public nudity...

2: The one my sister will never forget. I remember my moped breaking down in his driveway, and my Dad and brother came to rescue it. Very embarrassing. I remember his dog, who was beautiful. I remember his 16th birthday, I remember he asked my out at the bus stop and I wanted to hit him for being unromantic but I was too eager to say yes. I remember lots of laughing; Alan Partridge was always on. And feeder; listening to his favourite song on the bus that covers the entire length of Norfolk in the sunshine, feeling sleepy. I remember wearing his bracelet to school, and as I got off the bus I realised it had fallen off: I felt so guilty. I still feel bad about losing it.

3: He was the important one. I completely fell for him, and so my memories are mainly bias - I'm sure he would see them differently to me, looking back. So much sunshine, it was unnatural for England. Following their band, drinking, driving, feeling free from parents for the first time, and feeling free from worries. Then summer ended, shit got real, and a lot of stuff changed. I'll never forget sitting on that beach and knowing my two options, but choosing what would be best for him, in the long run, because he was so damn clever, he deserved so much more.

4: Can't say I remember much, only that Gran Canaria trip was the best. And although I shouldn't have, I'm glad what happened did, because it really opened my eyes to the world. And I got a little frightened, and ran away screaming, so to speak. But he, in another list, is number 3. I recently had to re-adjust this list, but bias-aside, he is 3. [Ironically, in another list which is topped by number 9, he is BOTTOM. Funny.]

5: I wish for various reasons that he wasn't on this list. Firstly, because it was the weirdest day, its still hard to think about how we got to where we were, and when it happened the build up seemed pointless. Secondly, it changed our friendship a bit, and for a while we weren't friends because of it. And thirdly, and most importantly, if he weren't on this list, I might never have been 'banned' from seeing him, and I wish I could have. I forget how well we get along, its a shame we can never see each other. Best memory is us 'revising' together pathetically in the forum. No wonder we both failed.

6: Funny, to think back, of the brilliant situations I get myself in. The field, the nettles, the bet, the walk home, the burning pain, the pill and the week long rash sum up our friendship. It was all a bit of fun and games until someone [me] got hurt. And now, I feel like such a different person to that girl, but I'm glad I was her for a bit: makes for good stories.

7: What should be the longest entry is going to be the shortest. My memories are currently all tainted. Eventually, though, I might remember the happiness.

8: Oh wow, where to start. The kneeling. The boats, oh the endless talk of water. The fucking wine sipping. The filthy flat. The arguments, that I just wanted to walk away from, but he wouldn't let me. He also wouldn't let me break up with him. Probably why I still have dreams, well, nightmares, in which I suddenly remember that he's still my boyfriend. Thank God he's not.

9: I wish I could remove this one, the most. Everything in my life right now would be different, I know that much, but I guess I might lose some of the great things too. We weren't supposed to get together, and he wasn't supposed to let me know how he felt. I used him, and I hate myself for it. I can remember a lot, but I wish we were still making memories, as friends, as close as we used to be. We were like the shittiest dynamic duo you ever saw. But it was nice. I guess it wasn't for him, though.

10: As much as I should, I don't regret this. We were once friends - I think people forget that. I remember watching The O.C for hours, and no one knew I was home, because he hadn't moved for so long. I remember thinking "this is fun, because its wrong". I also remember realising that it wasn't wrong - it was right in the sense that I was telling myself I wasn't happy; I was too stubborn to admit it, so I did something so bad that others would have to tell it to my face. Hit rock bottom, but I guess climbing out of that hole, I found a few good friends.

11:Who needs memories when you've got right now? I remember telling a joke, then wondering if you'd find it funny or offensive. Neither: you just thought I hated you. I remember drinking tea with you after a night out, and walking over the road and instantly missing you. I remember telling Sophie and Rhianmor about the various people who have starred in my sex dreams, but not revealing to them you were in one, because I thought they'd think I liked you. I remember the look on your face this time last year; I remember feeling so horrible, so empathetic, I just wanted to make you happy again. I remember sitting on your bed and wondering why I had never been in your new room before. I remember waking up next to the wrong person and knowing that all I wanted, for as far as I can see in front of me, is you.

I'd like to say, in a desperately plea to the Universe, that my list ends here.

I've found something. Some call it Nirvana, some call it heaven, some just call it an inner calm. [I won't say what I call it, it's far too cheesey.]

Oh, and finally: I realised I want to teach, so that I can teach others not to do what I did. Don't think detention is cool, don't spend all your time playing Final Fantasy 8, don't start drinking with clowns, and most importantly, don't take your clothes off unless you've really thought about it. He usually isnt worth it in the morning, but if you wait a few weeks, he's going to be worth it. Or, he'll fuck off and you'll save yourself a massive list like mine.

I don't regret things, but I do wonder how things might be different, under different circumstances. So after all this babbling, my message is: life will throw at you the biggest punches it can muster, you've just got to learn which ones to duck, and which to take smack in the face.

Stopping for directions on your way to Paradise...

A few days ago I finally finished John Steinbeck's East of Eden. It was a pretty massive book - not in page numbers, counting at just over 600, it's length being comparable to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows which I read in approximately three days, or Breaking Dawn which I read in under a week. This book, however, I've taken over five months to read. So it's 'massiveness', so to speak, is due to it's quantity and just overwhelming amount of content. It starts in the late 1700, tells of Adam's father and his time in the civil war, then of Adam growing up and being in another war, then of Cathy growing up, then of the Hamilton family: of course, all these people meet and two small baby boys come out of it, and then we watch them grow up, but that's not until over half way. As I was reading this book, I constantly thought to myself "I wonder why Steinbeck put this in?", and now, looking back, I can totally appreciate the fact that when writing a novel, you can put anything in it; the more you put in it, the better a novel it is. I'm thinking this now, as questions are being shone at my future and I'm wondering which paths to take, and I see that being a novelist is a pretty easy, almost cop-out route to take now, everything considered, so it's looking pretty alluring to me.

Speaking of alluring, I'm ill. My throat likes to burn when I'm horizontal. It's not fun. And the boy that lies in my bed and drinks my tea has this issue too. He also thinks I'm writing him a love poem right now. What a let down this will be!

Final thought: If a relationship is a meal - be it, your favourite meal at the moment - then sex is the dessert. It becomes apparent that many people like to binge on desserts, and ignore the rest of the meal (metaphorically and not), so what is it that makes relationship sex better than this 'binge' sex?

I'll have to have a few more full-course meals to answer that one !