Brighton. A small town by the sea, directly south of London. Not big enough to be named a city, so it has to be twinned with Hove - anyone who has never been to Brighton might think 'Oh, fair enough, some towns are quite small' - but alas, it's more to do with the problem of urban sprawl, making Hove and Brighton blur into one large indeterminable bulk of city, pushing forwards but never being beaten by the mass of sea it looks out onto. Due to this blur, we now live in Brighton and Hove. It's impossible to know which settlement our house actually sits in. In the address it says 'Brighton', but I know addresses can be wrong: my parents address is ended with Suffolk. We live north of the waveney, therefore our house is in Norfolk. Damn Bungay for being on the other side of the river.
So, we've moved. It was a very emotional, sleepless few days in which every obstacle that we feared, we faced, and it seemed to be that nothing was going smoothly at all. But we powered on regardless of wind, rain and the fates challenging us, and finally we are here. We've yet to get internet, so this post is hopefully going to be a short one, so as not to cost too much. Life is looking up, things are happening, and those obstacles we faced feel like a test to see if we truly wanted and deserve this new start. And dammit, we do.
This place amazes me every day. I used to have this impending fear of being laughed at constantly for wearing something that made me look silly. Now, I'm more scared of leaving the house in my Jack Wills hoody than I am of going out in the birthday suit. The statement I'd be making would be far better than that of Jack Wills.
The sea is so fresh and ever-changing. A mass of greens, blues, purples and blacks, it looks the same every day yet it's always different. It's water from the carribbean, and from Florida, and it's got all the way here, just to smash against our coast and fuck off to spain for a while. It's amazing to think of the currents in the ocean, in the whole world, when all that you can see is the 7-mile distance from our tiny eyes: the horizon of water, the colourful sand banks and the massive ships that linger in the distance and thankfully, we cannot hear. Ships in Southampton are like chavs in Yarmouth: big, ugly, hang around in dodgy-looking areas and just blast out this incredibly rude, vulgar sounds all day and all night long. I'm so glad to be miles from both those entities.
So this is our new start. This is my life, starting, beginning in this beautiful city, where anything can and will happen, where people are so so keen for exercise, and more men have painted nails than women.
I wonder what will happen now...
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
Friday, 10 June 2011
No matter how many lives that I live I will never regret
This blog is just me saying how much I love 30 Seconds to Mars. I have a million different 'moods' to which I know what music will help: I can almost always listen to 30stm and feel better for it.
Their first album, aptly named '30 Seconds to Mars' (how did they come up with it?) is the best anger album I have. It tops so much of my other rock, because it's so... it's just so loud! It really hits the right nerves, so if you're in a stinking mood, sing it at the top of your voice and all that anger just comes out when singing, it's beautiful, it's like the cheapest therapy.
Second album, 'A Beautiful Lie', got them a lot of notice - especially with awards, and such. I remember seeing a clip of them live, not even knowing who they were, and being a bit gob-smacked. There's a lot on this album which makes me fall in love with Jared Leto each time I hear it: 'The Kill', their most famous song, done acoustically is beautiful. Also, after this album, they did a live tour which got them a LOT of emo-teeny-bopper fans, which is awkward, but hey - I'd rather they be at the gigs I want to go to, rather than make Justin Beiber famous...
This Is War, most recent album, is a stonker. Really fucking deep shit, I think. 'Hurricane' (NOT with Kanye West) is amazingly angry, and the video is WOW. It's been censored to shit, (and I'd like to point out that most, possibly all, I'm not sure, of their videos are directed / made by themselves). And the video for Hurricane makes me want to rape Jared. A lot. Also amazing videos for From Yesterday; The Kill; Kings and Queens; Capricorn; This is War; Closer to the Edge... all amazing. Also, this album is pretty much my gym playlist, it's very fun to run to.
Also, their cover versions of songs are incredible. They did 'stronger' (by kanya west) on Radio 1's live lounge a few years ago, which won the best song from that album, and more recently covered Lady Gaga's Bad Romance - quite bizarre, but an amazing take on such a pop tune.
All in all, I think this band makes me more happy than most bands. Every 'favourite artist' someone has will have at least one track which doesn't sit too well with them: my technical favourite band Muse has a whole bloody album of them - but so far, everything 30stm has done, I like. Plus, I love Jared, quite a lot, and have enjoyed all the films which I've seen him in so far. Admittedly, I feel like his brother and third band member, Shannon and Tomo, are massively shadowed, but I'm sure they're fine with it!
Next time you listen to music, and you realise you like a song: let it wash over you. People always try and pick apart their feelings, and their emotional responses to things, but music has no real definition, and no true meaning: take of it what you will, make of it what you will, and let your brain be drowned out by your favourite musical stylings.
If I remember, I'll do a blog on Muse.
Their first album, aptly named '30 Seconds to Mars' (how did they come up with it?) is the best anger album I have. It tops so much of my other rock, because it's so... it's just so loud! It really hits the right nerves, so if you're in a stinking mood, sing it at the top of your voice and all that anger just comes out when singing, it's beautiful, it's like the cheapest therapy.
Second album, 'A Beautiful Lie', got them a lot of notice - especially with awards, and such. I remember seeing a clip of them live, not even knowing who they were, and being a bit gob-smacked. There's a lot on this album which makes me fall in love with Jared Leto each time I hear it: 'The Kill', their most famous song, done acoustically is beautiful. Also, after this album, they did a live tour which got them a LOT of emo-teeny-bopper fans, which is awkward, but hey - I'd rather they be at the gigs I want to go to, rather than make Justin Beiber famous...
This Is War, most recent album, is a stonker. Really fucking deep shit, I think. 'Hurricane' (NOT with Kanye West) is amazingly angry, and the video is WOW. It's been censored to shit, (and I'd like to point out that most, possibly all, I'm not sure, of their videos are directed / made by themselves). And the video for Hurricane makes me want to rape Jared. A lot. Also amazing videos for From Yesterday; The Kill; Kings and Queens; Capricorn; This is War; Closer to the Edge... all amazing. Also, this album is pretty much my gym playlist, it's very fun to run to.
Also, their cover versions of songs are incredible. They did 'stronger' (by kanya west) on Radio 1's live lounge a few years ago, which won the best song from that album, and more recently covered Lady Gaga's Bad Romance - quite bizarre, but an amazing take on such a pop tune.
All in all, I think this band makes me more happy than most bands. Every 'favourite artist' someone has will have at least one track which doesn't sit too well with them: my technical favourite band Muse has a whole bloody album of them - but so far, everything 30stm has done, I like. Plus, I love Jared, quite a lot, and have enjoyed all the films which I've seen him in so far. Admittedly, I feel like his brother and third band member, Shannon and Tomo, are massively shadowed, but I'm sure they're fine with it!
Next time you listen to music, and you realise you like a song: let it wash over you. People always try and pick apart their feelings, and their emotional responses to things, but music has no real definition, and no true meaning: take of it what you will, make of it what you will, and let your brain be drowned out by your favourite musical stylings.
If I remember, I'll do a blog on Muse.
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
No matter where you are, Starbucks is the same. (22/05/11 - 10.20am)
I've realised how much I dislike cities. When first moving to Southampton, I never thought of it as 'moving to the city', because uni is such a separate bubble, and every uni is based in or near a city anyway, so it was inevitable. Watching my sisters, however, is scary. I don't want to live in a big city like this. I didn't like London, I didn't like the idea of New York for more than a week - and I'm already wanting to say goodbye to Singapore. Nothing is relaxing. The most I've felt at home is sitting in a Starbucks. And it's not exactly hard to be here: everyone speaks English, I know the food, the MRT is simple and the city is easy to figure out, clean and safe. But still, my head is spinning as I glare at the concrete-gray skyline, each building mirroring the next in their sky-blue windows, 'close proximity' not defining the compactness well enough.
Most of all, I can't stand the busyness. The escalators move faster here, I'm sure of it. No one can stand still for longer than a second. The MRT is very busy all day long. They unashamedly stare at Westerners, and try sell us things in the next second. I've always been interested in the old Asian temples, the classic Chinese philosophies and the wondrous buildings, statues, Buddha shrines and all the fascinating history which far surpasses the Western world. But Singapore doesn't have these things. It feels like a city put together by Westerners, with a hope of seeming Asian. It's backwards and bizarre and yet, as the cleanest, safest and probably most advanced city in Asia, I can't enjoy myself here. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's the city. Maybe it's all the contrast with being in Australia. Maybe it's because of Helen. Who knows. Either way, I wouldn't want to call this place home.
Most of all, I can't stand the busyness. The escalators move faster here, I'm sure of it. No one can stand still for longer than a second. The MRT is very busy all day long. They unashamedly stare at Westerners, and try sell us things in the next second. I've always been interested in the old Asian temples, the classic Chinese philosophies and the wondrous buildings, statues, Buddha shrines and all the fascinating history which far surpasses the Western world. But Singapore doesn't have these things. It feels like a city put together by Westerners, with a hope of seeming Asian. It's backwards and bizarre and yet, as the cleanest, safest and probably most advanced city in Asia, I can't enjoy myself here. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's the city. Maybe it's all the contrast with being in Australia. Maybe it's because of Helen. Who knows. Either way, I wouldn't want to call this place home.
Thursday, 19 May 2011
Does anyone have the answers?
So, I've been gone a week now. I have a week more, but I definitely feel like the worst, the biggest hurdle has been... well not climbed, but I'm definitely half way up, or more. Said hurdle is my sisters. Long story short, they don't like who I am, and always try and change me, but this act just makes me more resilient, and have stronger desire to tackle life on my own.
Due to said problems, I've been thinking a lot about what's made me the way I am. During a (rather bad) drinking session with sisters, we decided (Helen's idea, I'm sure) to each tell the other what we thought their biggest flaw was. Charlie said that mine was being insecure. I have been trying to piece together what it is that makes me insecure, so that I can battle it. Unfortunately, my answers don't seem too helpful.
1: Previous experience with men. Until the age of 15, I fancied basically every man I saw. And the first guy I did more than kiss... didn't exactly go to plan. I've mentioned it before, and everyone knows the story, so I won't repeat it. But basically, having my dignity, humility and virginity ripped away from me, followed immediately by his denial of said night, his attempt (and success) at getting me again, followed by a swift departure in true one-night-stand format, and then to find out that during this brief affair he'd also been hooking up with my best friend too, on the same night, and more than just once, kind of crushed my spirit, rendering me pathetic and eternally inferior with every girl, and basically terrified that unless a guy shows that he really likes me, he'll just use me, leave me and laugh about it all later.
2: Family. And, I don't know entirely what I mean by this, but being the youngest of four, with two sister who always laugh at me, tell me I look shit, should try look more like them and despite being the exact same weight as one, that I'm 'fat, lazy and have never really tried in life'. I think I'm too used to it. I take it all to heart - I need to start blocking it out, fighting back and actually bullying them too - the problem is, the only thing I can bully them about at the moment is their terrible track history with men, to which they reply 'at least we don't like ugly boys'. Of course I don't find the guys I've dated ugly - they just think I can do better, so am settling - but, they don't know any of problem no. 1, and events of, so again, reminded of that, I feel shit. Woohoo.
3: Self-dislike. I need to be happier about myself, more confident in my choices, more happy/content with my body and learn to love the bad things about myself, to truly be more confident, and less vulnerable and easily played. This is the one thing I can work on first - once this is better, I can tackle problem 2, and only when I can truly forgive myself for the things that happened in problem 1, and when I can appreciate that I am who I am, and the things that I've been through have made me stronger overall - only then can I really just stop caring. Shall take a while, but that's the aim...
In other news, I miss people. As bizarre as Asia is, and as warm and friendly as Australia is, it's not home. Home is where my friends are, where my things are, where I can climb into bed with my boyfriend and just feel like I belong. No one can live out of a suitcase. Not even George Clooney...
Due to said problems, I've been thinking a lot about what's made me the way I am. During a (rather bad) drinking session with sisters, we decided (Helen's idea, I'm sure) to each tell the other what we thought their biggest flaw was. Charlie said that mine was being insecure. I have been trying to piece together what it is that makes me insecure, so that I can battle it. Unfortunately, my answers don't seem too helpful.
1: Previous experience with men. Until the age of 15, I fancied basically every man I saw. And the first guy I did more than kiss... didn't exactly go to plan. I've mentioned it before, and everyone knows the story, so I won't repeat it. But basically, having my dignity, humility and virginity ripped away from me, followed immediately by his denial of said night, his attempt (and success) at getting me again, followed by a swift departure in true one-night-stand format, and then to find out that during this brief affair he'd also been hooking up with my best friend too, on the same night, and more than just once, kind of crushed my spirit, rendering me pathetic and eternally inferior with every girl, and basically terrified that unless a guy shows that he really likes me, he'll just use me, leave me and laugh about it all later.
2: Family. And, I don't know entirely what I mean by this, but being the youngest of four, with two sister who always laugh at me, tell me I look shit, should try look more like them and despite being the exact same weight as one, that I'm 'fat, lazy and have never really tried in life'. I think I'm too used to it. I take it all to heart - I need to start blocking it out, fighting back and actually bullying them too - the problem is, the only thing I can bully them about at the moment is their terrible track history with men, to which they reply 'at least we don't like ugly boys'. Of course I don't find the guys I've dated ugly - they just think I can do better, so am settling - but, they don't know any of problem no. 1, and events of, so again, reminded of that, I feel shit. Woohoo.
3: Self-dislike. I need to be happier about myself, more confident in my choices, more happy/content with my body and learn to love the bad things about myself, to truly be more confident, and less vulnerable and easily played. This is the one thing I can work on first - once this is better, I can tackle problem 2, and only when I can truly forgive myself for the things that happened in problem 1, and when I can appreciate that I am who I am, and the things that I've been through have made me stronger overall - only then can I really just stop caring. Shall take a while, but that's the aim...
In other news, I miss people. As bizarre as Asia is, and as warm and friendly as Australia is, it's not home. Home is where my friends are, where my things are, where I can climb into bed with my boyfriend and just feel like I belong. No one can live out of a suitcase. Not even George Clooney...
Travels of the Little Norfolker...
(written on 13 May 2011, at 01.19a.m. Dubai time)
So, I'm in Dubai International Airport. This place is so bizarre, I can't quite get a handle on it. Its absolutely massive - entire floors and fountains dotted around that 15% of people traveling through will see. One massive long terminal (3), which never ends. 26 minutes to walk from center to one end. Why does Dubai have a Burger King (be it Halal), and Gatwick doesn't?
Everytime I see a female Muslim, in full Burqa, I think for half a second that I'm playing a video game like assassin's creed, and she's actually a ninja. I know that its a racist, and frankly ignorant, first thought, but I'm so new to this culture: to be the minority, seeing 'prayer room' below the direction sign for toilets; and having an entire section of the terminal dedicated solely to Gold jewellery. Madness.
Oh yeah, this place is so big it even has a zoo-like plant-based water feature bam in the center of the food court. There's also a travellator about 20 feet long, and a hotel at either end of the terminal.
Flying in I saw the Dubai skyline slightly: I found it more rewarding than seeing the New York skyline for the first time: I think because the plane came in to the coast, we got a good view, where as in NY it was all a bit disappointing unless on Brooklyn Bridge or Staten Island Ferry, neither of which I did at night. It's 32 degrees celcius outside. I have never been in a country where their night time temperature is higher than the typical British summertime temps. I remember the first night in Vegas being warm, but not this warm!
Watching the plane journey on satellite. I travelled 3726km so far. I realised just how close to Iran Dubai (or just the UAE) actually is. Slightly scary to think about it, but this city just feels like a billionaire's wet dream, so I guess the people to be scared of probably funded this place, or at least the ridiculous fountains. Drinking a smoothie, called Apple Cooler, which is made of apple, strawberry and orange, but frankly just tastes of orange. False advertising, that is. I have eight hours to kill. I think I'll eat my first ever Halal burger, then try to sleep...
So, I'm in Dubai International Airport. This place is so bizarre, I can't quite get a handle on it. Its absolutely massive - entire floors and fountains dotted around that 15% of people traveling through will see. One massive long terminal (3), which never ends. 26 minutes to walk from center to one end. Why does Dubai have a Burger King (be it Halal), and Gatwick doesn't?
Everytime I see a female Muslim, in full Burqa, I think for half a second that I'm playing a video game like assassin's creed, and she's actually a ninja. I know that its a racist, and frankly ignorant, first thought, but I'm so new to this culture: to be the minority, seeing 'prayer room' below the direction sign for toilets; and having an entire section of the terminal dedicated solely to Gold jewellery. Madness.
Oh yeah, this place is so big it even has a zoo-like plant-based water feature bam in the center of the food court. There's also a travellator about 20 feet long, and a hotel at either end of the terminal.
Flying in I saw the Dubai skyline slightly: I found it more rewarding than seeing the New York skyline for the first time: I think because the plane came in to the coast, we got a good view, where as in NY it was all a bit disappointing unless on Brooklyn Bridge or Staten Island Ferry, neither of which I did at night. It's 32 degrees celcius outside. I have never been in a country where their night time temperature is higher than the typical British summertime temps. I remember the first night in Vegas being warm, but not this warm!
Watching the plane journey on satellite. I travelled 3726km so far. I realised just how close to Iran Dubai (or just the UAE) actually is. Slightly scary to think about it, but this city just feels like a billionaire's wet dream, so I guess the people to be scared of probably funded this place, or at least the ridiculous fountains. Drinking a smoothie, called Apple Cooler, which is made of apple, strawberry and orange, but frankly just tastes of orange. False advertising, that is. I have eight hours to kill. I think I'll eat my first ever Halal burger, then try to sleep...
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Dreams
(NB. 'Dreams' is also reference to Fleetwood Mac - Newest Glee episode did songs off Rumours, reminded me so much of listening to the CD player when I was younger, I've decided to listen to all their stuff. Making me a bit emotional too...)
So, I had a very bizarre dream last night, and I want to try and dissect it a bit. I haven't even told Martin about it, so this is literally fresh out of my head.
To start I was just watching the film 'Killing Bono'. Now, I can't remember what the hell the premise for the film is, but in my head is was about a person who meets Robert Sheehan when on the run from some weirdos who are chasing them both. They half bond, half just watch each other's backs. The people chasing them turn out to be members of a cult which is enforced on any youths they catch. It was a bit nazi-like - they basically didn't want anyone disagreeing with their policies and ideals, which were basically 'do the work we tell you to, we pay you with food and somewhere to sleep, and don't complain.' Except, Robert was originally trying to find his sister, so we needed to escape to save her, but escaping was pretty hard, as they were this massive cult of beefy men and this one woman who looked like a Sim... She was the ring-leader, so to speak, and the most pissed off when we ran. We basically had to keep running, and we eventually got away. (the dream started with me watching the film, but within seconds I was in said film, so sort of shifted perspective).
So, I think I woke up and fell back asleep, because the next dream started off in the weird marshy area, which I'm sure I've dreamed about before, but have never actually been to said place, and Robert was there again, except with blonde bits in his hair. Pretty weird, but I assumed that this meant that time had passed since previous dream. Basically, we were re-acquainting when we saw a henchman guy chasing this kid. We recognised him as the same cult as before, and tried to help out the kid, but got involved in the chase too, so the three of us were pelting through this marsh and the guy chasing us was not doing well: what he knew and we didn't, however, was that at the end was there was a fence running the whole marsh, and only one gate, which four or five henchmen stood at, looking burly. Robert decided we should run further up the fence and try jump it, but the kid we were with was pretty small. He was so terrified that he stayed with us, and we basically threw him over the fence, but the four guys were hot on our heals so we were quickly ambushed and taken to the 'camp'. The camp was much bigger than the previous dream, and more adults were surveying the hundreds of children that they had captured. They took us straight to the front, and Rob and I decided to try obscure our faces with mud so that the woman wouldn't recognise us. She didn't, so we were half-okay, although still captured. As usual, I couldn't control my gob and got us straight back into trouble when I defied doing what the Woman wanted. She seemed angry, but nothing really happened. I soon realised it was because there were two other kids who were trying to break out too: Rob and I teamed with them to disable some cameras, I literally jumped off a wall to take out a henchmen (think I broke his neck, was pretty sweet), and we did a runner. This time we were in a town, and running around was really hard because we didn't know who were good and who were bad. One guy helped us out by opening this gate for us, so we were running for the edge of the town, but the two others got captured, and Rob tried to help them, and we got captured too.
Back in the camp again, and we were literally squeezed into this paddock. One of the things that we weren't supposed to do was stand anywhere unsheltered, and we were not allowed to walk around. Basically, they wanted us to be lemmings. So, because the paddock was so full, I couldn't get inside, and therefore was outside, and I had to walk to get inside. A messenger woman came down and told us 'those who were just standing outside are in MASSIVE trouble', and because I was already in trouble anyway, and still didn't want her to figure out that I had once escaped her clutches anyway, I sat on this wheely cart thing and rolled away. Went well until the hill stopped and I had to run again. This time I experienced the classic 'legs don't move fast enough' thing, and it was just the woman chasing me, so I had to be cunning and double-back a couple times, and hide. I found myself on this castle hill, and she didn't dare come over because her own guard dog was on it. The dog saw me, and started this weird noise, which I knew wouldn't be good, so I jumped down this hole in the rock, which protected me most sides, just had a slight gap where I'd got in, but I could move past said gap. The dog then breathed fire everywhere. It seemed to last forever. When he finally stopped, I knew that the woman thought I was dead, and the dog had no more fire in him, so I waited a bit, leapt out and ran.
I think the next dream followed straight on from the last. I was in the town center again, with my Mum, and this massive lorry was trying to squeeze through these tiny roads with high buildings all along them, so people were in danger everywhere. Me and Mum found a safe place to wait, but Mum was worried that James and Dad had gone missing, so I went to find them. I knew I needed a vehicle, and I found Katie up in the town, with a car. We drove to the river, where Dad had last been seen, found a boat and started down the river. I was driving, very quickly, and couldn't control the bounce of the water very well - was a bit dodgy. Katie found a rifle in the boat. This helped, as we quickly came across a crazy man in the river. We then saw a football and knew we'd gone too far, so grabbed the ball and headed back. On the way back we drove past Jack Nicholson in a boat, with a dead body in the back of his boat. He didn't do anything to us, but moments later a boat that was chasing him started shooting at us. Katie went crazy, shot the two guys in there, and I stopped to pick up their guns: a nice hand-gun and an automatic big shot-gun type thing. We came across another guy, and then this deer started jumping out of the bushes at us. Our guns beat them down.
I then woke up. Who knows what happened to James and Dad.... Or whether the damn cult woman will pop up in another dream. I think remembering her in the second dream was the problem.
But yeah, pretty weird. I felt like I was in three action movies, all in the space of about ten minutes.
On another note, I'm really enjoying Fleetwood Mac. Good times!
So, I had a very bizarre dream last night, and I want to try and dissect it a bit. I haven't even told Martin about it, so this is literally fresh out of my head.
To start I was just watching the film 'Killing Bono'. Now, I can't remember what the hell the premise for the film is, but in my head is was about a person who meets Robert Sheehan when on the run from some weirdos who are chasing them both. They half bond, half just watch each other's backs. The people chasing them turn out to be members of a cult which is enforced on any youths they catch. It was a bit nazi-like - they basically didn't want anyone disagreeing with their policies and ideals, which were basically 'do the work we tell you to, we pay you with food and somewhere to sleep, and don't complain.' Except, Robert was originally trying to find his sister, so we needed to escape to save her, but escaping was pretty hard, as they were this massive cult of beefy men and this one woman who looked like a Sim... She was the ring-leader, so to speak, and the most pissed off when we ran. We basically had to keep running, and we eventually got away. (the dream started with me watching the film, but within seconds I was in said film, so sort of shifted perspective).
So, I think I woke up and fell back asleep, because the next dream started off in the weird marshy area, which I'm sure I've dreamed about before, but have never actually been to said place, and Robert was there again, except with blonde bits in his hair. Pretty weird, but I assumed that this meant that time had passed since previous dream. Basically, we were re-acquainting when we saw a henchman guy chasing this kid. We recognised him as the same cult as before, and tried to help out the kid, but got involved in the chase too, so the three of us were pelting through this marsh and the guy chasing us was not doing well: what he knew and we didn't, however, was that at the end was there was a fence running the whole marsh, and only one gate, which four or five henchmen stood at, looking burly. Robert decided we should run further up the fence and try jump it, but the kid we were with was pretty small. He was so terrified that he stayed with us, and we basically threw him over the fence, but the four guys were hot on our heals so we were quickly ambushed and taken to the 'camp'. The camp was much bigger than the previous dream, and more adults were surveying the hundreds of children that they had captured. They took us straight to the front, and Rob and I decided to try obscure our faces with mud so that the woman wouldn't recognise us. She didn't, so we were half-okay, although still captured. As usual, I couldn't control my gob and got us straight back into trouble when I defied doing what the Woman wanted. She seemed angry, but nothing really happened. I soon realised it was because there were two other kids who were trying to break out too: Rob and I teamed with them to disable some cameras, I literally jumped off a wall to take out a henchmen (think I broke his neck, was pretty sweet), and we did a runner. This time we were in a town, and running around was really hard because we didn't know who were good and who were bad. One guy helped us out by opening this gate for us, so we were running for the edge of the town, but the two others got captured, and Rob tried to help them, and we got captured too.
Back in the camp again, and we were literally squeezed into this paddock. One of the things that we weren't supposed to do was stand anywhere unsheltered, and we were not allowed to walk around. Basically, they wanted us to be lemmings. So, because the paddock was so full, I couldn't get inside, and therefore was outside, and I had to walk to get inside. A messenger woman came down and told us 'those who were just standing outside are in MASSIVE trouble', and because I was already in trouble anyway, and still didn't want her to figure out that I had once escaped her clutches anyway, I sat on this wheely cart thing and rolled away. Went well until the hill stopped and I had to run again. This time I experienced the classic 'legs don't move fast enough' thing, and it was just the woman chasing me, so I had to be cunning and double-back a couple times, and hide. I found myself on this castle hill, and she didn't dare come over because her own guard dog was on it. The dog saw me, and started this weird noise, which I knew wouldn't be good, so I jumped down this hole in the rock, which protected me most sides, just had a slight gap where I'd got in, but I could move past said gap. The dog then breathed fire everywhere. It seemed to last forever. When he finally stopped, I knew that the woman thought I was dead, and the dog had no more fire in him, so I waited a bit, leapt out and ran.
I think the next dream followed straight on from the last. I was in the town center again, with my Mum, and this massive lorry was trying to squeeze through these tiny roads with high buildings all along them, so people were in danger everywhere. Me and Mum found a safe place to wait, but Mum was worried that James and Dad had gone missing, so I went to find them. I knew I needed a vehicle, and I found Katie up in the town, with a car. We drove to the river, where Dad had last been seen, found a boat and started down the river. I was driving, very quickly, and couldn't control the bounce of the water very well - was a bit dodgy. Katie found a rifle in the boat. This helped, as we quickly came across a crazy man in the river. We then saw a football and knew we'd gone too far, so grabbed the ball and headed back. On the way back we drove past Jack Nicholson in a boat, with a dead body in the back of his boat. He didn't do anything to us, but moments later a boat that was chasing him started shooting at us. Katie went crazy, shot the two guys in there, and I stopped to pick up their guns: a nice hand-gun and an automatic big shot-gun type thing. We came across another guy, and then this deer started jumping out of the bushes at us. Our guns beat them down.
I then woke up. Who knows what happened to James and Dad.... Or whether the damn cult woman will pop up in another dream. I think remembering her in the second dream was the problem.
But yeah, pretty weird. I felt like I was in three action movies, all in the space of about ten minutes.
On another note, I'm really enjoying Fleetwood Mac. Good times!
Sunday, 1 May 2011
Black with white stripes, or white with black stripes?
You know those funny two-image things - like duck or rabbit, in HIMYM - I always find them funny. Does it really define you in some way to see one thing first?
This blog is pure procrastination. I've checked facebook more times than I care to recall, I've started learning things on Sporcle which ordinary people would never do (all 74 Uk prime ministers, AND all previous kings and queens since 1066), and the next thing to do is play the Sims. I know that this will eat away my day, so I thought blogging was the better option.
Only one thing to say really, in relation to this work that I am avoiding. Teachers can never know, once a piece of work has been handed in, exactly how long it took someone. I have spent most of my life with good intentions to begin with, but then fail to meet my own demands. And last year, this time, I told myself 'over the summer, write the whole first draft'. That didn't happen, and still hasn't. I've got 20 pages left to go, but they seem to be the hardest. And annoyingly, my brain is actually coming up with annoying things, like "hey, its 70 pages minimum, you've done 100, CALM DOWN' - this is no time to be calm. It's also saying things like 'what if you really NEED to know all 74 PMs before Friday?' and 'hang on, how many states does Canada have? Maybe google it...' - MY HEAD IS INSANE. I have also refrained thus far from watching Smallville. I don't think it'll last much longer though!
And again, digression aside, back to my point. Which is better, in terms of moral goodness: to have good intentions when first given the assignment, doing small bits, but finding you've got a week left and those small bits really aren't enough; or ignoring an assignment until the week/day before, and just rushing it, panicking, staying up all night and feeling like death come may 6th?
Like I said, teachers never know exactly how much time you've spent on it, but I'm sure that they can hazard a guess at '15 hours, yesterday' for some scripts.
This blog is pure procrastination. I've checked facebook more times than I care to recall, I've started learning things on Sporcle which ordinary people would never do (all 74 Uk prime ministers, AND all previous kings and queens since 1066), and the next thing to do is play the Sims. I know that this will eat away my day, so I thought blogging was the better option.
Only one thing to say really, in relation to this work that I am avoiding. Teachers can never know, once a piece of work has been handed in, exactly how long it took someone. I have spent most of my life with good intentions to begin with, but then fail to meet my own demands. And last year, this time, I told myself 'over the summer, write the whole first draft'. That didn't happen, and still hasn't. I've got 20 pages left to go, but they seem to be the hardest. And annoyingly, my brain is actually coming up with annoying things, like "hey, its 70 pages minimum, you've done 100, CALM DOWN' - this is no time to be calm. It's also saying things like 'what if you really NEED to know all 74 PMs before Friday?' and 'hang on, how many states does Canada have? Maybe google it...' - MY HEAD IS INSANE. I have also refrained thus far from watching Smallville. I don't think it'll last much longer though!
And again, digression aside, back to my point. Which is better, in terms of moral goodness: to have good intentions when first given the assignment, doing small bits, but finding you've got a week left and those small bits really aren't enough; or ignoring an assignment until the week/day before, and just rushing it, panicking, staying up all night and feeling like death come may 6th?
Like I said, teachers never know exactly how much time you've spent on it, but I'm sure that they can hazard a guess at '15 hours, yesterday' for some scripts.
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