"Reaching out for human faith is like a journey I just don't have a map for"

I've had a lot of happy blogs recently. This is because I am more aware of the anger within me than ever, as I can't get past it. And it's ripping my heart up slowly but surely, but I'm still going to concentrate on the love in my life, because nothing constructive comes from dwelling on the shitty feelings we get.

I've also started to wonder exactly who reads this blog. I've never made it private because I'm not secretive about the things I write here: most of the things I write are things I have tried but failed to say to people in the past anyway.

I don't want to dwell. Now is the time to look forward, and to move forward. I think it's a shame to have to say goodbye all the time, but I think I'm finally okay with it. I have accepted that I need to leave. This city has been beautiful, understanding and a total haven for me, but it's also full of my demons, and I'm now weaponless, bleeding and falling, so I can't possibly fight back: my only choice is to run away.

I think I'm stronger now than I used to be. I think I can deal with some weird shit with a least a smidgen of dignity. I also think I've figured out who I am, who my true friends are, and what I want from life.

I hope that other people can find these things too. I know that I don't seem genuine sometimes, but at the end of May, the one thing I'll hope for, for all of my 'acquaintances', is that their lives are richer from this experience we've shared.

      And now, I feel exhausted.

All this love is making me nauseated

I have been feeling so much love recently, and I want to spread it. I want people to know how much I care, but in light of the next two days, I thought I'd do it now, on here, rather than when drunk or when receiving a gift, because although they wouldn't be, I might come off as fake or un-genuine.

First off, to the one who holds my hand at night, and squeezes me oh so tight, and makes me feel warm in my insides. You already know this, but I love you so much.

And to the ones I never see: to the girl who would sing in my car in the early hours of the morning; to the boy who sings through my computer screen; to the first Asian love who racially abuses me through my computer screen, and the second Asian one who's face is like wall-paper in my bedroom; to the slightly German one, to the slightly Irish one, to the really tall one in Paris and to the really small one in Verona; to the one whom I married and to the one whom we always said we'd get married, but realised quite quickly how wrong that would be: I love you. Not seeing you as often as we used to makes me appreciate the times we've had, I just hope we can continue to have them.

Now to the ones whom I don't say it enough, or ever:

To the one who's helped me so much these last three years, and fills my life with hope and food.

To the one who spoke to me on my very first day, said my favourite film, and has an unhealthy obsession with cake.

To the one who literally carried me home, who's like a big brother to me with his wisdom, his variety of names for me, and his condescension.

To the one who pulls some of the best faces, can't handle his drink and is always making someone laugh, but never for the right reason.

To the one who wears his passion on his sleeves, whether it's music, his Mediterranean routes or girls.

To the one who made up for being a year late by being so open, honest and fun to be around.

To the one's who turned me from a lump of plasticine into this girl; no matter how far you go around the world, you three are always on my mind.

      I love you all.

Simon says...

If you could have one ultimate power, what would it be?

 I think mine would be to do with the truth. I hate knowing that someone is lying to you, but not knowing why, or what it is they are covering up. That would be a useful power. I would however end up which a lot more rage, as I'm sure most people lie by accident, or in a non-spiteful way most of the time. It's the other twat-bags, who lie purposefully, that I'd do it for.

I have said for a very long time that love is not something you ever stop doing. If you love someone (as a friend, or as more, whichever), it won't ever go away. Which is why it's so easy to 'hate' someone who used to be a friend. Physics teaches us that energy can never be destroyed; kinetic energy can be transferred into nuclear energy etc, but none is ever lost completely. I think the same principle applies for love. That emotion will never cease. You can switch it with anger, with disappointment, with hate, with lust, with jealousy... with anything, but you can never just turn off those emotions. In that sense, I am still in love with a lot of people. But not being someone's other half limits how this energy can be used, so I try help, sometimes to my own demise, and I try to encourage, support, lend a hand etc whenever I can. But sometimes, when you have to make a snap decision, between two people, neither of whom realise you're making the decision, a lot boils down to love.

I realized last night that I have very little love left for some of my friends. I think, unlike the previous metaphor, that this is due to abuse. If you love someone, and they never reciprocate those feelings, your emotions get a bit jolted. Worse still, if you love someone that used to love you, but now just takes you for advantage, uses your generosity and good-will against you, and ultimately makes you feel like the gross fly that landed on a pile of dog shit and is now stuck on the sole of someone's shoe, wedged between dog shit and the last victim who got stood on - only when all this happens, does love deteriorate. Like the oil, it's just being sucked dry. One day, they'll be so little left that they will finally realize just what they've done. They'll shoot themselves in the foot because there is no substitute for oil. This planet is so unprepared for the day we run out of oil.

So, long story short, I am oil, I'm not going to be around forever, so while I am here, the best thing you could do for me is tell the truth.

Either that or someone could go jigsaw on their ass; if she survives, she might actually learn something.

Listening to the mechanics of the brain

A few days ago I had a dream involving some people I rarely see anymore. One of them was the girl who recently had a baby: except in my dream, she was young again. I was younger too, and we were at my old primary school. Weirdly, I always (probably 80%) have dreams set in my high school, but this one wasn't. And we were running from something - I can't remember the details, but I know it was an adventure. And we found Jack, the guy who lives in the next house down from ours (too far away to be a next-door-neighbour though) and we all continued on this mission.

It got me thinking about the way people grow. I might never have a childish adventure with Louise again, and considering the 14 years we spent as best friends, and the 7 years we've spent since then as sort of family, I can't accept that she's grown up. And I don't know Jack anymore, at all, but from his facebook I can deduce that he can't spell, therefore never got over his disability from primary school, and he seems like a bit of a chav. But in my head, and particularly in my dreams, he's the exact same as when we were 11. I have no idea how much I've changed - I can't even imagine what people from my primary school thought of me then, let alone now - but change, and the years of distance that seem to press on my mind sometimes, really get me thinking about time.

If we had no clocks, and no diaries or calenders or anything, we would have a much simpler, slower and more peaceful world. Who the hell invented a visualisation of time?

I hope I don't get old too quickly. I hope life goes at the exact pace that I want it too. I hope, above all other things, that I am growing up, maturing and getting over the things that 'haunt' my past. Watching Smallville, with all it's clever lines by Jonathon, Lex and Lionel - some of them mean more than just 'go be a hero, Clark'. Some of the things they say - the one in mind is about the past - Clark says "you can't move forward if you're so fixated on the past" but later on, Lex says "the stars in the sky that we see may have burned out thousands of years ago, but because light moves slowly, we're only seeing their light now. The past defines the future, and is always shaping the lives around us" (or something like that).

So my thoughts crumple into a few basic questions: do we only grow because of the passing of time? Without the knowledge of time, we'd never feel the urgency to be more than what we already are. And does the past define us, and shape us, or is it there to build upon, and learn from: should we welcome the past, as part of being our being, no matter how bad, or should we shun the past, and try to grow into greater beings without reflection of our earlier selves?

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...