Oh, so there is a light at the end then....

As some of you my have read, I've not been feeling my brightest. This is because a lot of, no other word for it, shit has been going on. I really shouldn't be surprised seeing as all of my friends happen to be severely hormonal teenagers. (I love the fact hormonal sounds like it has moan in it!). I won't go into detail, because that would make me a bitch. (a condition I am recovering from)  But to summarise, D, the guy that I was soooooo over, had moved on way faster then I thought he had and I don't know why that bothered me, but it did. But not just that, but my friends knew and didn't tell me. (for my own good I admit, but still).

However, D did do me a favour because over the weekend, I lost respect for him and he shattered the illusion of him that I created in my head. He was the first guy to find me attractive after my "issues" and I think that is why I had such a problem to see that anyone else would like me after him. (very self indulgent, I know) Now, however I know I am worth more then that, and I don't need to feel attractive to know that I am beautiful. (If that makes any sense)

Thank you for reading my vent!
xoxo       

March On

March on, proud boy
Shined boots with empty arms
How to know you meant me harm

Lay your drum at the alter
dead beat faith
My path to hate

He takes away what I give
But in me
you still live

Without forgiveness
Bitter sin
Without you
The regiments crash in

Parkland Epiphany

I don't want you
I want the evening we spent on the swings

I don't want you to fill my moral roundabout
Unless you want to fall head first into it

I don't want you fear, of all the small things
I want you to warm my hands
                                             that leads to my icy mind
Try to quick and it will crack the graffiti plastic you sprayed   

But you don't want this
And I respect that                                              not you, no more

Malibu breath, rainy slide down my estimations
into the arms of a lying cheat

Good Bye, slam the door, look the gate

Is it dead?

Sorry I haven't posted in a while, but as I'm sure most of you know, this is a really busy time for students and I am working my bum off to get my grades. Believe me, I'm not neglecting you for the sun and beach (it won't stop raining) but I am actuarially working! (shook! horror!) So I still love you lots!

xoxo

Short Story

Just something I've been working on for a bit, not based on anyone or anything, just ideas that I have floating around my very mazed mind. Hope you enjoy!

Ruby stared up at the white, textured ceiling of her padded, caring cage.  Watching the patterns and shapes immerge from the bumps and ridges of the high prison as the rain knocked on her window. She shivered, the pain in the stomach had subsided, but her head was still light from the medication.

She had to send the girl away when she came to ask her how she was. She was not up to visitors. The name of the girl escaped the grasps of her memory. Things often did. Did she know the girl? Was it Joan? Her friend from the WAF, come down to visit? Had she come down to swap gossip and lipstick she had be given by her American beau? No, Ruby had a vague recollection of going to a funeral where an American was crying, in sad old man sobs that shook his aged frame.

Had it been her daughter? Come down from London to tell her of the traffic getting to the home and how well Ruby’s little grandchildren were doing. Were they still little? Did they have children of their own now? She just could not recall the moments of her life that had just passed her by, but could remember the first time she went to a dancehall at 13 with some other girls from her stitching class.

She tried to lift her legs around from the high edges of the bed. Once so slim and agile, now weak and veined. Failing moving her legs, she rolled to her side so she didn’t have to look at the dismal picture of the rain outside her window. She tried to gain some sort of collection of time, how long she had been in bed. The shadows had moved across the room, or had they always been that way?

A shuffling brought her attention to the narrow wardrobe opposite her bed. A young girl was sifting through, throwing all the hidden black from the small space.  The girl, from the back, appeared to be wearing a red, knew length dress with a square neck and high waist. Her long dark hair was pulled back by two matching ribbons. Even Ruby could tell it was dated.

She turned and met Ruby with a wide mischievous smile that spread across her still round cheeks.

“How did you get in?” Ruby asked, feeling weak and contemplating pulling the assistance cord that hung above her bed.  

“What happened to the colour?” the girl asked, ignoring Ruby’s question, “I love colour. What changed?” The girl cocked her head and looked at Ruby with bright green eyes.

“Who are you?”

“You, just younger I suppose. Or maybe no one. Depends how you look at it really.....” the girl trailed off, leaving the thought above Ruby’s bed, making her head ache. “I wanted to see what I will be like in 70 years, whether I’d be married, happy, dead even, but never here, not in a place like this”

“Why are you here?”

The girl stopped, looked around the room. Absorbed the white, bear walls, and the cold and empty space. She shivered as if she could feel the aging curse of the building enter her bones and begin to weaken her spirit.

I don’t know, what am I doing here?”

Young Ruby stepped back, eyes wide, fear slowing overcoming her young eyes. Age had attacked her fresh face, her posture slumped.

“How could this happen to me? How did I let this happen to me?” Tears ran down both Rubies’ faces. One for her lost youth, one for what was inevitably going to happen to her, and everyone and everything she knew.

“I had no choice, age happens and you will lead your own life. Age is the price we all have to pay for a long life well spent, and heaven is the end reward. I know that now”

The girl’s eyes grew wide again, in excitement for what lay ahead of her. Her back straightened.

“You promise?”

The old women was tired, her head drooped languidly on her pillow.

“What your name again dear?”

But the aged girl had left.              

There goes the scale.....

How can you get the balance right between doing to best you can in school and still having a social life?
I went to a meeting yesterday about applying to Oxbridge, and some of the stuff they want from their students sounds like a full time devotion. I did not in there thinking they would say how easy it was, obviously, but it made me think about the work that I will have to do to become a doctor, the one thing I want most in this world.
However, I do want to get the balance right. Do I want to turn into a hobbit with no friends and an amazing brain, or do I want a social life, but a lower chance of getting into Cambridge?
Hmmm, a bit of a dilemma which will require some more thought on my account......  

What Bloggers Can Learn from Porn Stars

Well that caught your eye! Just thought I'd share that little snippet with y'all from my searchings from the Bloglines!

xoxo

Textile Moodboard

As Alexa Chung said, in her June Vogue, "Blogs are merely a moodboard" So here's mine for my next project

The Only 12 Steps I need

And they are not on the way to the fridge, then back to the sofa! Check it out, made me smile!
http://recoveringlazyholic.com/12steps.html#

Hmmmm, They are Pretty Hot (And I'm Pretty Lonely)

Ewww Old Chewing Gum

You know when you walk into a class on a hot day, and you can smell the softening of the gum that's stuck to the underside of the desk? It kinda smells like dirty mint, or stale chew mints that you find at the bottom of your handbag and have been there for months.That's is when you know that it is going to be one of those lessons. It happened to me today after a particularly hot lunch, when I walked into History. I just thought, "you know what, screw this, I want to sleep". However I decided that might not be the wisest thing in the world to do as we have a load of course work due in soon. But it's not always just the lesson, sometimes it's the people in the lesson. My History class isn't too bad, but after a maths class with some of the people in there, I want to grate my face or burn my textbooks, it's that bad. After my little rant there I was just wondering, do any of you ever walk into a class and go, "I don't need this today, leave me alone". Or is it just me being ungratefully for my education? (it's not, I know who lucky I am to have such amazing opportunities)    
Love to hear from you
xoxo

The Fruits (or Skirts) of my Labour

Does anyone else out there take Textiles? As a degree, an A level or just GCSE? I'm almost through the first year of my GCSE course and I have made 2 things. In a year. Not because I'm slow, really bad or lazy (shh about the last one) But because with every project there is loads, and loads, and loads, (and even more), of paper work that needs filling in describing every aspect of the stupid thing! I know that as a course, you need to have something to mark, but naively, I thought Textiles would be a nice and relaxing class to take with all my other stressful ones, (Triple Science, History and Spanish), I was wrong and I apologize to all the hard working people in the industry for saying so.
But even if it is hard work, it is rewarding when you get to the end and you have a hat, or a skirt that you made from your own blood sweat and tear, (yes, all three went into the making of this skirt!). So now I will showcase my wonderful work to you, my loyal readers for some (nice) feedback before the final hand in.

xoxo

A little bit Rock and Roll (Oktoberfest stylie!)

As many of you already know (if you followed me on tumblr), I work in a charity shop every Wednesday and every other Saturday afternoon. Before work the other day, I nipped across to the Cat Protection Shop (very unlike me as I have sever cat allergies) and came across this fab vintage St Michael skirt. (I use the term vintage, because some people still get really snobby about second hand clothing, even though working in a charity shop, I know they only put out the best). It only cost me £4 which I think is a good saving bearing in mind this skirt , by Stella McCartney retails at £345. So bite me fashion snobs, I will still buy the majority of my clothes from my good, old, trusty charity shop! 

xoxo   

Can it Really?

Everyday you hear success stories from other bloggers, the media, your mates, about blogs that have taken over the world, and have been able to make a living purely off their blogs. I’m jealous, being a student who’s main income is from a paper round, having any extra cash would be a definite bonus. However, my main problem is the fact that I’m lazy, like really lazy, and when I come home from class, I can’t be bothered to write, even thought once I start know I enjoy it. Like running, love it, but too lazy to get off my backside and do it. How knows, maybe poverty will drive me to become a better blogger in the future and actuality update this thing once and a while. (I’m not making any promises here, just a maybe)

My other problem is I never know what to blog about, I have loads of interests, but they all seem really boring, and not something other people would take the time to read. (how many people want to know I have a bruise the shape of a heart on my leg from judo last week?) I need to find my niche, which might be insanly diffucult in a world were everyone thinks that what they have to say is probably the most ground breaking thing (in the last 5 minutes).

Thank you for listening to me unpack my brain (and if you didn’t read to the bottom, your just as lazy as me

xoxo

Bitter…. Me?

Because I’m just too brilliant (or sad) I’m taking an AS 2 years early, but to do this, I need to sit a whole GCSE a year early too. That’s fine, until the exam falls the same day as the exchange trip to Spain……grrrr……. and I’m sure you can guess which which one the school thinks is more important……

However, today has offered a few benifits that you couldn’t find in Spain;

-My Beatles Album arrived today from Amazon

-I was able to eat doughnuts in Spanish class while the rest of them were on a 2 hour bus journey to the airport (my heart goes out to our poor teacher, and maybe D) 

-M smiled at me! (which is an improvements as most the time he thinks I’m a numpty) 

-Doing the exam got me out of another boring English lesson (them again so would have Spain…. but shhh)

- Judo tonight with Aand Kira (that should be interesting)

-I GET TO GO TO MARWELL ZOO (and kidnap a meerkat!) 

See there is a plus side to not going to sunny Spain (and making D fall back in love with me) But more on that latter!

xoxo  

Cause that’s my fun day…..

Sigh, How I do love Sundays, but is it just me, or do they drag themselves out and leave you with nothing to do? After the housework and thinking about starting the coursework I’ve got piling up (thinking, not promising anything), I just cant seem to feel like doing much at all. Until, I remember what I’m great at, being lazy, therefore I have devised a list of thing that might cull the Sunday afternoon boredom….

-Ski dive

-Make smoothies out of the stuff you have left in the fridge (cream cheese, spinach and Hershey kisses) 

-Do coursework (hahahahaha… no wait, that is a good idea)

-Laze on the computer writing blogs and reading even more of them 

Hmmm, I wonder what I will do today…. (not number 3) 

Take it to the Bank

It’s England, and a bank holiday, so prepare for the cliché, and the bad weather. Actually, reading over the last few entries, I have done nothing. And that’s the way I like it. Watching Ferris Bueller, that kid does lazy like a pro, by not being lazy at all, but being the most extreme guy, and still doing no work. My real hero. 

Marwell's Awesome Signs

Don’t Put All Your Eggs In One Basket

Or you end up with spilled milk, or something like that. D and I have been broken up 8 months now, almost as long as we were going out for. Yet I still check his Facebook, follow him around school, and get insanely jealous when other girls flirt with him. I KNOW it is me being a cow because I dumped him, but that was because he “wasn’t ready” (wtf, we are 15, I wanted him to kiss me, not shag me) I realise that this is unhealthy, but know it and doing something about it is two different things. I could get all churchy and say God has helped me, and he has, but its still thee in the back of my head and it kinda sucks. Maybe all I need is a good rebound, or maybe just a change, but from today, he will not have the same hold over me. I’m making this promise publicly so I can’t go back on it.

Thank you and goodbye, because I need a bath after my paper round

xoxo