Thursday, November 30, 2006

I'm going to be spamming the internet with this video for a while. Rob Tidy is a cruel, cruel man.

Remember my "Don't have ugly children" gum? I'm chewing some at the moment, and it tastes really weird. The box claims it's cinnamon flavor, but I didn't realise that cinnamon tasted like burning. Hmmm.

I've been without my sewing machine since I've got to uni, so I've had to resort to new hobbies that involve less machinery. At the moment I'm knitting, and I suck miserably at it. I drop stiches, I add them, I add extra things that don't look like stitches in the slightest, and I'm generally bad at it - Amy counts the stitches at the end of each row, and they're different every time. I need more practise really. I've started waking up in the morning with an insatiable urge to knit though, so I usually have to do a bit before I even get out of bed in the morning (This is the closest I've ever had to a nicotine addiction. Please don't mock too much...), so I should get the hang of it soon enough I guess.

At the moment, Rob, Chris and I are looking for a house to live in next year. I'm thinking something like this. It will be called "The Den of Iniquity" and it will be cooler than Kat's house.

I'm going to fill the house with all the random kitsch clutter I can lay my hands on, like these.



I want a Smeg fridge real bad. I would fill it with home baked cheesecakes and butter I'd churned myself and it would be awesome and amazing.

I miss the gym. Also, I just saw the seasonal Coca Cola advert and I really want to be drinking some refreshingly cool Coca Cola from one of the glass bottles, because it always tastes better from them. And Santa drinks it, and Santa is Finnish, and Henna is Finnish and Henna is incredible.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

I've been promising to show the world pictures of my uni bedchamber for months now, so here it is. Marvel at my superior interior design skills and weep.




Saturday, November 18, 2006

Today, I bought some magical gum.

HandzOff's tagline is "When you've got the fire down below and you must say no - chew HandzOff instead!" So far, it's been a raging success.

I also bought this, just in case.

Monday, November 13, 2006


I really should go to sleep, but I can't. I'm alternating between pacing and throwing myself around the room to angsty rock music. I thought about writing bad poetry about the fragile state of my mind to upload to my deviantart, but decided against the idea, because writing a blog entry requires so much less effort/talent.

After the funeral, I went to Ullswater lake. I love that place - if you avoid the peak tourist seasons, it's pretty quiet. And you can swim in it, though that wasn't really an option today, being November and all. It's quiet, because the road next to it doesn't actually go anywhere. It's beautiful too. It makes me relax - I don't need to put on any pretenses with creation. It helps to look at it, to be part of it, and to remember that the world can still be beautiful. That hurt, pain and grief aren't all that's left. There's still beauty in the reflection of the mountains in the water, and in the smoothness of the stones on the shoreline. Things are still ok; God is still around. I needed it; I needed to stop for a moment and drink in as much goodness as I could. God was there.

However secluded it was, I still managed to embarrass myself. While peeing under a tree (which I thought was quite discreet of me...), I looked up to hear the sound of drunk men hooting and laughing; some sort of sporty little boat had managed to shoot past while I hadn't been focusing on the lake. Public toilets are there for a reason, folks. Use them.

It's weird being in my old room. It's covered in photos, but most of them are of friends I can't even remember the names of, smiling at times that aren't even memories to me now. My book shelves need sorted through; there's some things in there I desperately want to read again, and others I'm somewhat ashamed of owning (Learning to Fly - Victoria Beckham). My photo frames have all been moved; alot of them were of Helen, so they've been serving their dues in various scanners, and others have been lost for a long while, victims of the blessing that is my mother's habitual cleaning.

I downloaded a Skillet album today that I don't already own, the Comatose one. Its good and angsty, I just wish the lyrics had a bit more substance.

Your parents say everything is your fault/But they don't know you like I know you/They don't know you at all/I'm so sick of when they say/It's just a phase, you'll be ok, you're fine/But I know it's a lie.

Yeah.

I know I need to shut up and go to bed now, because despite being the most un-musically inclined person I've ever met, I have a huge, unbearing desire to join a band. I'm not sure what I'd do in a band - prance around in the background with a cow bell? I don't know. I don't think I'd be very good with a cow bell really.

I'm going to sleep now.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

This week, I lost my voice. It's the most amusing and frustrating thing to happen to me for a while.

At the weekend, it was totally gone - one day I couldn't even whisper, and had to communicate using a polished system of Notepad and bad sign language. Unfortunately, all I learned how to say in sign language was "brandy", "Finnish," "gay" and "boy", so my communication skills were rather limited in some respects.

At the moment I can speak, but only in a really low, husky voice. Poppy digs it, but it makes me feel like a bit of a man. I'm also coughing so violently that my throat has actually started to bleed (Or many my veins are trying to make a break for it out of my mouth? Who knows?), so it feels like I'm swallowing razorblades whenever I speak. It's cool though, I'm alright.

Through the wonder that is Demonbaby, I found possibly one of most blunt and generally awful sites to be found on the interweb. The site is called inSPOT, and tackles the age old problem of how to tell all your many sexual partners that you have an STD, and they probably to do.

Obviously having that conversation would be quite awkward and distressing for everyone involved, so inSPOT have a genius solution: the eCard. Not only can you use the internet to send birthday eCards at the last minute, you can now use it to send people chirpy reminders to head down to their local GUM clinic.

Step One: Choose your eCard design. They're all pretty snazzy. I like this one because it's quite informal, and straight to the point.
I really don't think I could make any comment more hilariously sad than the card itself, really.

Step Two: Create a message

This is where your eCard gets personal. Obviously, this situation is different for every person, so there's room for your own personal message. You can choose the STD you're infected with too from a drop down menu too, there's a wide selection. (Crabs, scabies, shigella... the list goes on!) Another handy feature is the section where you can add your partners' email addresses - there's 6 spaces, incase you've been a bit busy.

Step Three: Send!

Honestly, the mind boggles. What type of person would use that kind of thing? What type of person would create that type of service?

It's a wonderful world.

Disclaimer: I have never had any reason to use such a service, before any unwholesome rumours start.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

I can't quite put my finger on my first memory of Helen; we were so young when we met.

When I started secondary school, I used to follow her around. She seemed to know so many people; I know I annoyed her at least a little. At QEGS, we used to have four people sitting on a desk, two smaller desks pushed up against each other. We got into the habit of sitting on a four person desk together, but never right next to each other. We kept our distance for some reason, I can't remember what - I'm sure it was very important at the time. One time, when we were watching a video in a Tutorial lesson with Dr Hall in Room 3, I moved my chair to sit next to her and see better, and we talked, and we did it again the next lesson. We became friends then, I think.

We used to be in a dance group at church together - we would make up dance routines to old World Wide Message Tribe songs and bounce about in matching body warmers at half time during gigs. We thought we were so cool - I remember doing a crazy dance routine to a Shine song that involved having to mime being a giant spoon or something. When we were a little older (13?) we changed our dance uniform to little white tshirts with different coloured sleeves, and we did a 10 minute routine at a Yfriday gig. Beforehand, we all went to Sam Farren's house and did our hair in rediculous styles - we'd twist it into little balls, plait half of it, stick other bits straight up in the air with hair spray... we were mad, but we felt awesome.

At school, we fell into a group of three - Helen, Ruthie and I. In Year 10 we'd sit opposite each other in the form room - because me and Ruthie always arrived late, Helen would save us places. I loved being her friend at Christmas because she was so easy to buy presents for - she adored Eeyore, dolphins, F1, and looked beautiful in jewellery. Her room was filled with cuddly toys - dozens of Eeyores that we'd given her over the years, and other toys too - she had this battered old rabbit called Hannah that was worn and torn with love to the extreme. You could barely even recognise it was a rabbit, but she was so cute with it. She loved that thing.

I went to our prom with her. She looked gorgous - she had on a really beautiful black dress, and she had her hair half up and half down. She had lovely hair - it was always incredibly soft, however many times it was dyed. We used to love playing with it. I liked plaiting it best - we used to braid each other's hair sometimes.

After GCSE's, I left school, and she stayed on for sixth form. We didn't see each other as much. I used to help with the Christian Union at school still, but she had orchestra on Fridays, so she couldn't come. She'd always pop in at the end though with her violin case, and say hello to me and Jon. She'd tell us stories about school too - she let me know who was dating who, who'd fallen out with who, and all that other important stuff.

When we were a little older, we started going out at night together - I remember when I was going through a nasty break up, she insisted on taking me out to have a good time. I did; I remember wearing one of my tartan dresses, and she had on a sparkly top of some sort and trousers. We danced badly and shared a handbag, and I stayed over at her house.

Last year, my office was just round the corner from her house, so she'd come over after college sometimes and keep me company when I was procrastinating. We became better friends again then. In the summer, when it was really hot, I used to take my laptop out to the garden at work and plan stuff outside and get incredibly sunburnt. This one afternoon, she joined me for ages and revised while I did an essay. It was boiling, and the garden was filled with loads of cats. I have videos of us playing with them. We'd take Maisie for walks up the Beacon too - the dog would want to walk for hours, but we'd always collapse at the top of the hill exhausted. For some reason there were alpacas in one of the fields at the top of the Beacon, we found it really amusing, so we took another video.

It feels so weird that she's not here anymore. Sometimes it feels so unreal that she's dead; other times it hits home like a sledge hammer. I wish I knew the answers, I wish I knew the details, but I don't.

Helen, I miss you.