Not Really Different

Hipsters and gigs and prom and all kinds of crazy shit all up in this post

Holy crap! A blog post! I know, I know, I promised I'd post more.

But what's the point in posting if you've got nothing worth saying (I totally have a list of ideas that all suck - "Prom!" "Skiing?" "How I hate my mother" "TV shows I'm ashamed of loving" see what I mean?)

So here I have something worth saying.

I has a happy.

:D

I'm going to see my current favourite band live, NEXT. FUCKING. WEEK BITCHES. Hell to the yeah I am EXCITED. My brother is taking me, paying for the tickets. I'm on study leave (oh yeah, GCSE's start next week -.-) and my parents think I'm sleeping at a friends, not gonig to a gig. Isn't it all dandy?

I haven't been to a gig since I was eleven. I'd like to think I appreciate good music a little more now, but let's face it, I'm all hipster'd out.

I refuse to buy apple hardware because I'm kinda a hipster.

Not only that, but my mp3 player is tiny and adorable, but I'm so nerdy I'm considering changing the operating system on it, y'know, for funsies.

And I run ubuntu now.

And I think I'm cool, too. *sigh*

Still. GIG. LIKE TOTALLY NEXT WEEK. I may even write a post about it, how badass would that be?

(btw, Prom kicked ass. There was orange squash and posh dresses and lots of photos and god I'm crap at dancing. Afterprom was also good, there was alcohol and pyjamas and a little bit of drunk friends.)

(other blog post was entitled "so I'm kind of a bitch, go deal." But I thought that was entirely too emo and so now I has a happy I'm going to be all happy at you, bitches.)

Tata.
Emmy :)

I always imagine procrastinator being said in the same tone of voice as one would say TERMINATOR.

I am a procrastinator. It is my greatest talent.
Right now, I am putting off my DT coursework. In spite of the fact that it's due in tomorrow morning. And that this is worth 50% of my GCSE.
The funny thing (although it's not really that funny) is that I'm putting off other things due to putting off my DT Coursework.
Example:
"I really should tidy my room. Wait, no, if I do that now I'll never get round to doing my coursework."
or
"I should get changed. But I want a chocolate biscuit. Wait, you know what I should be doing? My coursework."

I am a hopeless case.

If only I had a useful talent.

(p.s. I made a promise to myself I would blog more. Even if it's crap, or if it's short, or whatever.)

Awkward. Awkward. Awkward. Wait, that's normal for me.

I'm pretty sure everybody has those moments that you look back on and cringe at. Where you outwardly cringe- the crinkling of the eyes, the stomach dropping feeling of regret.

Or maybe I'm just an *extra* awkward teenager. Who knows?

Here are some of my worst moments, so you can laugh at me:

That time in year 7 where in PE my hands got so cold that I couldn't do my shirt up afterwards and was shaking and freaking out and was 15 minutes late to the following lesson, and none of my (few) friends waited for me.

That time in year 8 when I got my new timetable but read the wrong day and went to German when I was meant to be having a Maths lesson and ended up ten minutes late.

That time in year 9 where I came out of English and didn't realise it was break time, and wandered the corridor in search of my geography teacher, and got all confused when the door was locked. When I walked through the block three times, until that bitch asked me sarcastically if she could help me and I went outside, only to spot the people laughing on the tennis courts and went shamefully to meet my friends, swearing to never tell them.

That time in year 11 where I walked in to our tutor room and said in a voice filled with dread "Our tutor is back" when we hadn't met her yet because she'd been off school and she said from behind me "I know I am."

That time last week where I got so drunk I threw up.

Yep. Still visibly cringing.

Seriously. The mark on my helmet is ten kinds of badass.

This is officially the cutest website ever: http://www.ilikeyourjacket.com/

I've been mucking about on the internet because I've got a day off school because I have concussion and a killer headache and other relevant symptoms (including, but not limited to, headache, nausea, tiredness, inability to concentrate, and other fun things).

So I figured, since I cannot focus on the English essay I'm meant to be writing to save my life (I was gonna do it yesterday but spent the afternoon in A&E) I would blog my... injury. Aside from the fact that most of my memory is in fits and starts, it should be okay.

My first thought of vague awareness was "What... I thought that was a dream?" because I woke up and was shocked to find that Barry's boots in front of me looked decidedly real, but at that point the entire morning seemed like a dream. Apparently I was knocked out for about two minutes, although the first thing I remember properly is sitting up, but by then I had apparently been awake for about ten minutes. I remember somebody asking me what day of the week it was, and I said "Sunday?" and somebody laughed and said that they liked how I'd asked it as a question. Somebody off to my right. I remember my mum telling someone that she'd better take me home, and seeing Anna come cantering towards me and thinking "Huh, so maybe it was real." I don't remember walking back to the stables, but I do remember being at the stables and somebody asking me if I was okay. I think I answered something like "I don't know." or "Probably." But I don't remember. I think we were in the stable to tie up Gully, but I don't really remember that and I think the reason I know that is because I worked it out logically. I remember seeing Tildy on Gidz after I'd come off, and I remember mum getting out of breath and holding on to me as we climbed the hill to the car. I remember saying "My head really hurts" at numerous points, but I couldn't say when.

In the car I remember saying things like "There's a blurry line in my vision." and "I feel ill." and "Has Simon really gone to university then?" and apparently I asked "What happened?" four times, even though I can only remember the last time. I remember my mum saying "I think you should stay in the car while I grab some stuff and we go to the hospital." I remember seeing Lotta in the hospital and thinking "Oh, what's she done?" and then sitting down. I remember being aware that time was passing faster than it should when my mum said we'd been there an hour. I remember trying to sleep on her shoulder because I was so tired. I remember the nausea starting to pass and I was thinking about getting something to eat, and then being told I couldn't and I had to wait. But that was okay because the nausea came back then.

I remember the memories of the lesson coming back, though there are still bits which I know happened but at the same time I'm not quite sure. Like I can remember them happening, but it still feels sort of dreamlike.

My head really fucking hurts, right now. And I really want to go to sleep.

Now that I can remember what happened, I can tell you. I went over the barrels, the last jump of the four cross country a little bit fast, and ended up clinging onto the horses neck. This is the last thing I remember. Apparently, when I hit the ground, the horse kicked me in the head, knocking me out and leaving me with the headache from hell (and one fuck of a badass mark on my helmet.)

Anyway. I will stop milking my pain now ;)

Corkboard of awesome, Rosette, and general BABBLE.

I have this thing called the corkboard of awesome. It was, originally an entirely hypothetical corkboard, but it has since grown in terms of... reality. I have been waiting for this corkboard for, I shit you not, 3 years.
Last week, my dad (the DIY-er who starts a billion projects and never quite gets around to finishing them) finally got around to sticking up this corkboard, the one that had been sat on my floor for two. years.
A picture of aforementioned corkboard (warning, picture is ludicrously big because I am lazy and like showing off my kickass cameraphone):

The rosette was given to me by the owner of the riding centre I go to. Every now and then, the centre hosts Own a Pony Days, run by the teenagers who work there. This year I did it with my friend Amy, and it was run by my friend Molly and her friend Hannah. Amy was the oldest there, at 16, and then me, at 15, and then the helpers, and then everybody else was like 12. It consists of grooming the ponies, a lesson with a bit of theory mixed in as well as the general "no, you're position is wrong when you're jumping" malarcky, as in "Before you canter you have to answer a question. Where is the horses Hock?" (that was my question. I kicked ass, fyi) which we don't do in the normal lessons. Then there's cookie decorating while the other group have their lesson, 'cause often the same ponies are liked by the... I want to call them little kids but they *are* twelve, I guess.

Then lunch, where me and Amy and Molly and Vicky and then Becka and Hayley tagged along too, sat on the maxi tires and pissed about for a bit and traded food and, you know, the usual lunch time antics of teenagers. Then there was the Gymkhana which went horribly wrong because our team had two horses between 4 people and all 4 of us wanted Beans. Even though Beans is slow and lazy, anything is better than Mickey. Seriously.

Annnnnd anyway you didn't really need to know that because the rosette wasn't from being awesome in Gymkhana because I suck at gymkhana. It was because you got a rosette for participating and there weren't actually any prizes and I can't even remember who won now anyway. But Barry (that's the pervy guy who runs the riding centre) gave me the rosette and said "well done, you rode much better today." and basically the rosette is on the wall because it's a reminder of the friends I *don't* have pictures of, like Amy and Molly and Vicky, see? I can be logical.
Anyway, I get the impression I'm babbling.
We will move on to the tube ticket and (because I suspect a child's tube ticket is not enough to fill an entire blog post xD) probably the cutesie alpaca drawing next time, folks. Don't go anywhere! Or, do, because it'll probably take me another week to get off my ass and post, y'know. And I wouldn't want you to starve or anything.
*cough*

Ecstaticness is TOTALLY a word

This was supposed to be posted yesterday but Posterous went all wacky on me. May have another post up later today if I have the time.

I have a job. A JOB. Eeeee.

This excites me insanely, even though my feet ache and my legs ache and last night was not at all what I expected it to be.

I turned up 5 minutes early because my dad is ludicrously ludicrous about being ON TIME so I always end up being awkwardly early (seriously. One time I was 15 minutes early to meet my friends and then they were half an hour late to meet me which would have been a pain even if I hadn't been waiting for fifteen fucking minutes already. Do you know how much of a loser you look leaning against a wall in the middle of a bloody shopping mall for FORTY FIVE MINUTES?) and so there was an awkward "ehm, do you know where Sue is?" moment with the chef, who was preparing (he is a lovely guy, aptly named Guy) and then his sous chef (who everybody hates but idk why, he seems alright, if a little obnoxious - called Aaron) pointed us in the direction of the house. There was another awkward 20 minutes while I was given the tour and taught how to use the massive water boil-y thing and then the others turned up. And by the others, I mean Kate and Chris - Kate is in the year above me at school, went to my primary school and was kind of a bitch when I was like, 7. She has since then, I discovered last night, become an absolute stunner, and she's really nice too. Chris is a year older again, with lots of bracelets and very teenage boy hair and just one piercing in his right ear, in his tragus. It looks pretty good. Worryingly, out of the three of us waiting staff, he was the most tanned. That shows what I've done with my summer ¬¬

Then there was washing up and a lot of waiting around because the people who were here first were late, and then the people who were supposed to be here later were early, so it was very quiet and then a mad panic and all in all, waitressing is quite fun. The industrial dish washer is insane, and the bread is REALLY good. I haven't quite got the hang of carrying two plates yet (what can I say, my hands are retardedly small) and I learnt that for two hot things, Kate ALWAYS uses the tray to take them upstairs, because if your hands are wrapped in towels, you need both hands because it gets slippy. So yes, there was waitressing business and kitchens are not remotely like how they are on TV. It was quite relaxed, apart from when Guy just finished plating up starters and we realise that actually table six hasn't been sat yet so somebody has to run and get Alex and things like that.

I wasn't really expecting to get paid, because it was my first night and I was learning the ropes and stuff, but at the end of the night, Sue says to me "So did you enjoy it, would you come again?" and I said I did and would. And then my dad turned up and she says to me "So I should give you some money." And I got £20 out of it ^_^ and now I'm working every saturday evening which is like £80 a month and it's not like I DO anything on saturday evenings, so, EEE. I HAVE A JOB AND SOME MONEY THAT I REALLY EARNT FOR MYSELF.

Capslock shows my excitement. Literally, the whole way home last night, I was sat there going "twenty quid! She gave me TWENTY. QUID!!" in various tones of ecstaticness (that should be ecstasy but that word just sounds weird to me.)

So yeah. I have a job. And I am slightly less poor. And I quite enjoy it. :D :D :D Back to school tomorrow, though. I might be filled with the tiniest bit of dread, right now. Ughhhh. :(

(apologies for any typing errors in this post. I am tired and headachey and also kind of hyper.)

Maybe I should have called the blog "Not really intelligent"

I, like most teenagers, consider myself somewhat tech savvy. I can use a computer, no problem. But trying to use the TV to watch a movie? I am *screwed*. I was scared of our microwave for months after we got it (I was like, 12, but still.)

My mother (who has been ill recently and hasn't worked in several months and thus has a lot of free time) recently asked me to teach her how to use facebook. The prospect was daunting, to say the least. Yes, I know my way around it for my purposes, but for hers? No way in hell. The first thing I did was block her. She didn't need to see my slightly tipsy pictures and my slightly offensive (to her) status updates. You know, the ones with all the swearing in. So I educated her in uploading a profile picture (she tried to put one up as a .doc) and changing her status (she went over the character limit and had to cut two sentences out.)

On the other hand, my dad, who is but a few months older than my mum, has no desire to understand facebook, but is the one I turn to (if my brother is being a grumpy douche - he works in a computer shop) if the computer falls apart. My two older brothers have both worked in a computer shop - Tim for 3 years, Simon for two, and then Tim went on to do a freaking Computer Science degree. At Oxford. We are nerds. I've been making websites since I was ten (what can I say, I love html) and they've been getting gradually prettier as I go on. I understand hexadecimal colours, and have dabbled in various designs. But I'm not *really* a techy person. I'm an internet person, definitely. I spend my life in chatrooms and on blogs. The hardware side of things, I am clueless. I struggle to open the case of a computer (we had to because the fan was making really fucking weird noises.)

For example, in a year, I will be getting a computer, the budget for which will be defined by my GCSE results. A terrifying prospect. I don't know how to weigh out the pros and cons of different software, and by then there will be no older brother to critique my decision.

Yet a lot of people get through life without these skills. Why is it a source of seemingly needless insecurity for me? Both my brothers did computing A level, and *purely* because of this, I'm not.

And my dad has always joked about how I've got to carry on the tradition and work in the computer shop that my brothers did. And I've hated him for it, and hence, tomorrow, I'm going to try out my waitressing skills and see if I can get a job (the answer is likely a yes) in a local restaurant. I feel like I won't measure up to my brothers, so I'm taking a different path.

Damn. This started off a post about techy things, and turned into a needless psychological self analysis.

In short - I am insecure because I am the youngest and also probably the stupidest. Woo. :D

Lend me £75? In return, BADASSNESS.

Somebody buy me these: http://store.drmartens.co.uk/p-359-1460.aspx

Except don't really 'cause then I'd feel bad for you spending £75 on shoes for somebody on the net. But they're badass.

I really want some of these shoes. :(

Politics

I love how some teenagers have really strong political views that they completely made up. I talk politics with my parents sometimes, and, I'm gonna be honest, I make shit up. Nobody in charge will please everybody, right? So we might as well do whatever, I figure. And all this stuff about the private school/state school divide is fun to talk about, too. And gay rights, and stuff. There is no way people will be happy.

I remember a discussion I had with my parents the other day.
"How did America get so.... wrong?" I had said, and then we'd all laughed. We were talking about the Ground Zero Mosque which isn't at ground zero and isn't a mosque.

Fun times.

My friend Panda, from camp, thought that the next prime minister needs to be a woman, because a woman would be better. There wasn't really a reason to it, and it made me laugh. Because teenagers aren't very good at debating, but they have ideas that sometimes adults can't see.

It's nice to be a kid - we get to have our own, dumb opinions, and nobody minds because we're "learning". It's like, when you get responsibilities, you have to properly formulate ideas, and plan things, before they come out of your mouth. I think sometimes, what everybody needs, is a little bit of impulse.

Maybe. I'm in a weird mood.

I'm the kind of girl...

I'm the kind of girl that says "Because I'm cool like that" ironically. Who loves the idea of doc martens, and other badass footwear, even though I'd never wear them. Who rides horses, even though it's every private girl cliche. Who keeps a diary, and swears she'll write in it more, and then forgets until she feels *really* whiny. I'm the kind of girl who ignores warnings not to meet up with people from the internet, who goes to summer camp every year even though it's long since lost it's novelty, the girl at the front of the class who doesn't really pay attention anyway, but she doesn't have any friends right here, right now, or the girl sitting at the side, hunched to the radiator, giggling with her friends. I'm the girl who loves the snow in theory, but hates snowball fights. The girl who skips lunch to read, even though she's behind on work, and the girl who's good at lots of things, bad at more, but never exceptional.

Average, in every way. I could think of a dozen more things to say about myself, but let's not get narcissistic here. I have no original features (nobody does, any more) and no original ideas, and no original mannerisms. I'm just me, just another teenage girl.

Doesn't mean I'm gonna shut up about it though :)

Term starts in a weeks time. In the next week, I have to do a ton of DT coursework, read a tedious novel, make sure all my uniform fits, do a ton of Physics coursework, try not to stress out too much, and then meet up with a certain boy from summer camp. Oh, yeah, and get my body clock fixed. Apparently getting up at 3 in the afternoon isn't appropriate, especially not if you're also looking for a job. I've also got a paper doll to print out and other fun things.

And then, school. School will probably be blogged about a lot. I will probably bitch and whine a lot. About how I hate how every girl is your boy mad stereotype and how they all act the same and think they're cool because they steal a £2.50 eyeliner pencil from boots and how dumb I act when I'm hyper/drunk, and how incredibly annoyed at myself for how hypocritical I am.

So I guess this is another little intro. I guess I'll see you round.