Hokay, so, 11:30pm isn't usually so bad on a Saturday night, but considering the amount of sleep I've been getting lately (very little, since you asked), it really is.
So, I'm keeping this short, and... sweet?
Got back from Paris on Tuesday morning (bloody middle of the night, more like), and slept. I will post pics... when I get the chance.
Got back from family holiday to Barcelona a few hours ago. It was really fun (though Paris beat it), but two 12 year old boys and a bustling city? *Shudder*. And the Spanish metro? Let's just say that "now, would you go left, or, right?" in a certain accent became disturbingly applicable. Again, possibly pics, though the camera was not my property this time, so we'll see.
Full run-down soon, I was just posting to check in, and say that posts will be irregular for the time being due to exams/revision/fragging homework aardvarks/D0E (4 reallz).
Oh, and I am about 1/2 way through my fanfic, and have started another story (yes, another one), along with lots more writing stuffs, so lots to post.
Saturday, 30 May 2009
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Random but awesome fanfic
Okay, this is only a veeery short post to show this which is an awesome and very funny fanfic that I just discovered on LiveJournal.
And also, google 'new world order'... humans just live conspiracy theories, and running about like headless chickens over them, and this one's a dozy.
Hey, if there is gonna be a new world order with one government, I'm set... I'm already next in line for the title of 'evil overlord'...
And also, google 'new world order'... humans just live conspiracy theories, and running about like headless chickens over them, and this one's a dozy.
Hey, if there is gonna be a new world order with one government, I'm set... I'm already next in line for the title of 'evil overlord'...
DoE
Okay, Wikkid.X has already detailed the horrors of Wales when on a Duke of Edinburgh expedition (here and here), and I don't have much more to add. Well, except for my huge thanks to our lovely group-leader teacher, who kept smiling through the torrential, monsoon-style rain and evil ten-foot vampire demon cows covered in chainsaws.
And my eternal hatred (well, extreme dislike) of Mr. Pathetic-weedy-scouser-with-a-lisp continued with more ammo. Not only did he give us tents that house one less person than they needed to (resulting in three people in a tent made for two, and four in a *freezing* three-man tent), and no fuel burners so we were tired, frozen and starving by the end, but he then lectured us about being soaking wet from the monsoon.
Okay, I get that waterproof trousers are the best thing since sliced bread, but seriously, removing huuuge backpacks and boots in the middle of a muddy cow field? No chance. He lectured Megan who was so cold and wet that she looked half dead. He then argued with me when I explained why we didn't put on said waterproofs.
I think the 'argument' stare is genetic. My dad is as good at it as I am. Mr. Pathetic had also told us off for putting our bags in a part of the tent where they touched the outer layer, when, had we not, we would have had no room to breathe or move inside the tent. When I asked "why?", he told me specifically, "never say 'why' to me again!"
So, of course, Emma called 'why?'. It might well have contributed to Mr. Macho-outdoorsy-tech-git hauling us out in the middle of the night for 'infuriating him with our disrespect' (also my fault for making Georgia laugh while he was talking to us).
Yeah, I hate those two far more than I hate Welsh rain.
Phew, okay, I think that's it for now. New story might be up later.... I don't know.
And my eternal hatred (well, extreme dislike) of Mr. Pathetic-weedy-scouser-with-a-lisp continued with more ammo. Not only did he give us tents that house one less person than they needed to (resulting in three people in a tent made for two, and four in a *freezing* three-man tent), and no fuel burners so we were tired, frozen and starving by the end, but he then lectured us about being soaking wet from the monsoon.
Okay, I get that waterproof trousers are the best thing since sliced bread, but seriously, removing huuuge backpacks and boots in the middle of a muddy cow field? No chance. He lectured Megan who was so cold and wet that she looked half dead. He then argued with me when I explained why we didn't put on said waterproofs.
I think the 'argument' stare is genetic. My dad is as good at it as I am. Mr. Pathetic had also told us off for putting our bags in a part of the tent where they touched the outer layer, when, had we not, we would have had no room to breathe or move inside the tent. When I asked "why?", he told me specifically, "never say 'why' to me again!"
So, of course, Emma called 'why?'. It might well have contributed to Mr. Macho-outdoorsy-tech-git hauling us out in the middle of the night for 'infuriating him with our disrespect' (also my fault for making Georgia laugh while he was talking to us).
Yeah, I hate those two far more than I hate Welsh rain.
Phew, okay, I think that's it for now. New story might be up later.... I don't know.
Friday, 15 May 2009
Story: Game Over (Cyclamen)
Title: Game Over
Rating: U
Universe: Third in the Flowers 'verse, this flower being Cyclamen, 'resignation and goodbye'. I couldn't find something that I thought fit this one exactly... if anyone has any suggestions, go ahead.
-----
Louisa sat, now alone, waves of grief washing over her as Jonathon left, slamming the door to the café as he walked away for the last time. Her hands curled around her warm coffee mug, as she replayed their last conversation over and over again in her mind.
It was over: She had won.
She closed her eyes, rubbing them with her hands, suddenly exhausted. She saw his face behind her eyelids, no matter how hard she tried to shake it.
He did this, every time he left, every time she said something wrong, every time he did something so unforgivable that she said he had to go, he took her heart with him.
And every time he came back, she felt healed. The feeling was mutual, she had seen his heart break and freeze over, in tandem with hers, as they said horribly brief goodbye.
It was a vicious circle, the pattern in which they had lived their lives. He lied, she cheated, and somehow she always believed that all the pain was worth it for the brief weeks or months they would have in the middle, where they’d be recklessly, wonderfully happy.
But no more. The circle was broken. She herself had broken it, with no more than a few choice words, a diamond ring, and a bright smile. It had been an understanding, an unspoken agreement between them that in the end, when all was said and done, they would end up together. At some point they would stop playing the games of the young, and settle into the stability of middle age and beyond. Together.
She’d broken that deal, and she’d given up her seat on their roundabout. She was sick of waiting for him to calm down, and tired of crying in the middle of the night. She’d endured it for years, kept going by the hope that one day it would resolve itself. She’d taken the initiative, she’d ended it, futilely believing that maybe, when he was gone, the pain would leave with him.
She looked down at her hands where they still encircled the mug. The only warmth in the world that still seemed to touch her was the warm coffee in its striped cup, cradled between her ice cold hands. A white-gold, diamond ring glinted on her forefinger, as icy and frozen as the rest of her. For a moment, she hated the beautiful stone, as it sparkled on her finger. Because of this small, beautiful thing, she had lost something which now seemed infinitely more precious.
She took a deep breath, and straightened her spine. Louisa Carmichael was never one to bow down and cry. She rubbed the few, final tears from her eyes. She had done it. Finally, she had had her victory over the boy who had taunted and tainted her life since she was fifteen. He was gone, and she had made sure that he could never come back. This was it, this was the way that she had planned for it to go.
“I am young,” she whispered to herself “I am free, I am engaged to a wonderful man. And everything is going to be perfect.”
So why did it feel like everything had just fallen apart?
Rating: U
Universe: Third in the Flowers 'verse, this flower being Cyclamen, 'resignation and goodbye'. I couldn't find something that I thought fit this one exactly... if anyone has any suggestions, go ahead.
-----
Louisa sat, now alone, waves of grief washing over her as Jonathon left, slamming the door to the café as he walked away for the last time. Her hands curled around her warm coffee mug, as she replayed their last conversation over and over again in her mind.
It was over: She had won.
She closed her eyes, rubbing them with her hands, suddenly exhausted. She saw his face behind her eyelids, no matter how hard she tried to shake it.
He did this, every time he left, every time she said something wrong, every time he did something so unforgivable that she said he had to go, he took her heart with him.
And every time he came back, she felt healed. The feeling was mutual, she had seen his heart break and freeze over, in tandem with hers, as they said horribly brief goodbye.
It was a vicious circle, the pattern in which they had lived their lives. He lied, she cheated, and somehow she always believed that all the pain was worth it for the brief weeks or months they would have in the middle, where they’d be recklessly, wonderfully happy.
But no more. The circle was broken. She herself had broken it, with no more than a few choice words, a diamond ring, and a bright smile. It had been an understanding, an unspoken agreement between them that in the end, when all was said and done, they would end up together. At some point they would stop playing the games of the young, and settle into the stability of middle age and beyond. Together.
She’d broken that deal, and she’d given up her seat on their roundabout. She was sick of waiting for him to calm down, and tired of crying in the middle of the night. She’d endured it for years, kept going by the hope that one day it would resolve itself. She’d taken the initiative, she’d ended it, futilely believing that maybe, when he was gone, the pain would leave with him.
She looked down at her hands where they still encircled the mug. The only warmth in the world that still seemed to touch her was the warm coffee in its striped cup, cradled between her ice cold hands. A white-gold, diamond ring glinted on her forefinger, as icy and frozen as the rest of her. For a moment, she hated the beautiful stone, as it sparkled on her finger. Because of this small, beautiful thing, she had lost something which now seemed infinitely more precious.
She took a deep breath, and straightened her spine. Louisa Carmichael was never one to bow down and cry. She rubbed the few, final tears from her eyes. She had done it. Finally, she had had her victory over the boy who had taunted and tainted her life since she was fifteen. He was gone, and she had made sure that he could never come back. This was it, this was the way that she had planned for it to go.
“I am young,” she whispered to herself “I am free, I am engaged to a wonderful man. And everything is going to be perfect.”
So why did it feel like everything had just fallen apart?
Sunday, 10 May 2009
Star Trek woo!
OMG STAR TREK WAS AWESOME!
Okay, okay, breathe... right... okay.
It was frikkin amazing! I mean it had special effects like whoa, which usually doesn't make a movie better, in my opinion, but it was so cool the way everything came together.
I mean, we had hot!young!Kirk, and an awesome Spock and TIME TRAVEL! And black holes and supernovas and future-selves and 'live long and prosper' and explosions and *sigh* general, all-around awesomeness.
I spent the whole movie grinning like a lunatic. Yes, I have reached new levels of geekishness.
I think I might be on the slippery slope. I'm becoming a... trekkie!
Okay, okay, breathe... right... okay.
It was frikkin amazing! I mean it had special effects like whoa, which usually doesn't make a movie better, in my opinion, but it was so cool the way everything came together.
I mean, we had hot!young!Kirk, and an awesome Spock and TIME TRAVEL! And black holes and supernovas and future-selves and 'live long and prosper' and explosions and *sigh* general, all-around awesomeness.
I spent the whole movie grinning like a lunatic. Yes, I have reached new levels of geekishness.
I think I might be on the slippery slope. I'm becoming a... trekkie!
Story: Please Look Twice (Yellow Tulip)
Title: Please Look Twice
Rating: U
Universe: Second in the Flowers 'verse
Summary: This one's more like a character's thought-process than a story, but it fit nicely
-------
Sally sat in Rosie’s Café, staring out of the window.
Her tea was cold, but if she noticed, she didn’t care.
Beep.
Her mobile buzzed: One new text.
Hey, do you have the final draft ready? I need it ASAP.
Cheers,
Aaron
And for a single, fatal moment, her mind drifted...
She saw him every day, in some form or another. As he walked past, her eyes were trained to his, and he was the only one in the crowd who mattered, no matter who else was there.
She knew him, so well, she had listened to every word he had ever said to her, every look was burned indelibly into her mind.
She needed him to see her. She did all she could think of: she stood in front of a crowd and risked everything to make him notice her.
She changed her hair, her clothes, her manners. She did everything she could to be the girl he wanted. But she still seemed as noticeable to him as wallpaper.
No-one could see, to look at her. Her face was blank, her eyes open to the world around her. No one could see that her senses were attentive to nothing but his every move, while her mind tried to rationalize this new presence in her consciousness.
She wanted him to see it too, but she couldn’t say a word. A whole world was stretched between them, a world of his ignorance or indifference to her thoughts and her feelings.
She had spent years just waiting for him to notice. A hundred times she thought that he had finally realized, and a hundred times she was proven wrong.
She knew that it would never go away. It was a shallow depth, a longing for the man in her head, not the man beside her. The perfect being who would see her for who she was, and give up everything to be with her.
And she knew it was stupid, and crazy, and self-destructive.
So she convinced herself to lock him out. Her heart and mind left, they dreamed about other faces as his sat, in profile, half a meter away.
She did this a thousand times. Every time, every lousy time, he found the key back in, without realizing he’d done it. They were friends, he knew her, on some level. She supposed that that was how he did it.
But he had never looked at her twice.
Her hands skimmed over the keys of her phone, the words flowing as she wrote back:
I’m at Rosie’s Cafe. Meet me?
Sally
Her hand hovered over the ‘send key’.
She sighed, and added one last line to her message:
xxx
Rating: U
Universe: Second in the Flowers 'verse
Summary: This one's more like a character's thought-process than a story, but it fit nicely
-------
Sally sat in Rosie’s Café, staring out of the window.
Her tea was cold, but if she noticed, she didn’t care.
Beep.
Her mobile buzzed: One new text.
Hey, do you have the final draft ready? I need it ASAP.
Cheers,
Aaron
And for a single, fatal moment, her mind drifted...
She saw him every day, in some form or another. As he walked past, her eyes were trained to his, and he was the only one in the crowd who mattered, no matter who else was there.
She knew him, so well, she had listened to every word he had ever said to her, every look was burned indelibly into her mind.
She needed him to see her. She did all she could think of: she stood in front of a crowd and risked everything to make him notice her.
She changed her hair, her clothes, her manners. She did everything she could to be the girl he wanted. But she still seemed as noticeable to him as wallpaper.
No-one could see, to look at her. Her face was blank, her eyes open to the world around her. No one could see that her senses were attentive to nothing but his every move, while her mind tried to rationalize this new presence in her consciousness.
She wanted him to see it too, but she couldn’t say a word. A whole world was stretched between them, a world of his ignorance or indifference to her thoughts and her feelings.
She had spent years just waiting for him to notice. A hundred times she thought that he had finally realized, and a hundred times she was proven wrong.
She knew that it would never go away. It was a shallow depth, a longing for the man in her head, not the man beside her. The perfect being who would see her for who she was, and give up everything to be with her.
And she knew it was stupid, and crazy, and self-destructive.
So she convinced herself to lock him out. Her heart and mind left, they dreamed about other faces as his sat, in profile, half a meter away.
She did this a thousand times. Every time, every lousy time, he found the key back in, without realizing he’d done it. They were friends, he knew her, on some level. She supposed that that was how he did it.
But he had never looked at her twice.
Her hands skimmed over the keys of her phone, the words flowing as she wrote back:
I’m at Rosie’s Cafe. Meet me?
Sally
Her hand hovered over the ‘send key’.
She sighed, and added one last line to her message:
xxx
Saturday, 9 May 2009
Touching a Ghost (Azalea)
Title: Touching a Ghost (Azalea)
Age Rating: U
Universe: Hopefully the first in the Flowers 'verse... a series of little oneshots in a cafe, based around this list of flowers and meanings. Hopefully, I have some ideas...
BETA: Un-BETA'd, due to its short, random nature.
Summary: A random drabble I did based off a p+i prompt, though this is a re-written version.
Opal sat alone, stirring her now stone-cold coffee, lost in thought. The café moved in a whirl of colour and sound, people going about their lives in fast-forward, while she moved in slow motion. Sealed off in her bubble of silence, of peace, she saw a face before her that was so very, very different than those of the others in the room. It was a beautiful face, scarred and lined from a million betrayals, but somehow more glorious for the fact that it had made it through all of them. This was a face that had seen the rain, and now shone in sunlight. It was a face she knew in her dreams, a face that looked at hers in equal parts adoration and intense, heartbroken longing.
Her features mimicked his, sadness and love aging her face long beyond her youthful years. His ghost-hand reached out its elegant, musical fingers and her small hand followed, until their fingertips met in the middle. A tear rolled down her cheek, as the beautiful image shattered before her eyes, her fingers still extended, reaching out to thin air.
Age Rating: U
Universe: Hopefully the first in the Flowers 'verse... a series of little oneshots in a cafe, based around this list of flowers and meanings. Hopefully, I have some ideas...
BETA: Un-BETA'd, due to its short, random nature.
Summary: A random drabble I did based off a p+i prompt, though this is a re-written version.
Opal sat alone, stirring her now stone-cold coffee, lost in thought. The café moved in a whirl of colour and sound, people going about their lives in fast-forward, while she moved in slow motion. Sealed off in her bubble of silence, of peace, she saw a face before her that was so very, very different than those of the others in the room. It was a beautiful face, scarred and lined from a million betrayals, but somehow more glorious for the fact that it had made it through all of them. This was a face that had seen the rain, and now shone in sunlight. It was a face she knew in her dreams, a face that looked at hers in equal parts adoration and intense, heartbroken longing.
Her features mimicked his, sadness and love aging her face long beyond her youthful years. His ghost-hand reached out its elegant, musical fingers and her small hand followed, until their fingertips met in the middle. A tear rolled down her cheek, as the beautiful image shattered before her eyes, her fingers still extended, reaching out to thin air.
Story: Riot Van
Title: Riot Van
Author: zotlot
Rating: U
Universe: the Real World (I know, *gasp*)
Summary: A random drabble I wrote for English class. We had to take one of two songs (I chose 'Riot Van' by The Arctic Monkeys) and write a story about a character from it. Here be the result:
---------
Saturday night at Gerry’s Bar. The old guy’s a soft-touch… and a touch blind the only place in town where us underagers can get a drink these days. Down-town Belfast really lights up at night, a mix between shady neon and police car lights. The thump of music from the pubs merges with the sound of fist-fights in the back streets.
It’s a bloody mess. A violent mismatch of ignorance and violence and desperation and politics.
So we walk home, and I’m far more smashed than usual. Johnny-boy carries me for once, the pavement blurs before my eyes and the blood pounds in my head. It’s strange tonight, ‘cause it’s usually me who’s nearly sober, walking, not staggering, home to a darkened house, as filled with desperation as anywhere else. But then, it’s not usually Mary’s birthday.
Every year, I run as fast as I can away from home. I choose lose myself in a bottle, rather than in misery. But I don’t know what Dad does, stuck in that old house, all alone. He doesn’t seem the type for old photos, but I guess I don’t know the old guy that well. Maybe we’re more similar than I thought, maybe he’s the same as me, as bad as me. Maybe he’s off his face, giving lip to some PC, same as I am.
Without Mary to hold us back, we do as we ‘ave to. We turn into animals, we follow instinct and run, as fast as we can, we hide in the bottom of a bottle of beer. We can’t stop the stupid words we speak to block out her voice in our heads. We piss off some copper, and get beaten half to death in the back of a van.
And all to forget, always to forget.
Author: zotlot
Rating: U
Universe: the Real World (I know, *gasp*)
Summary: A random drabble I wrote for English class. We had to take one of two songs (I chose 'Riot Van' by The Arctic Monkeys) and write a story about a character from it. Here be the result:
---------
Saturday night at Gerry’s Bar. The old guy’s a soft-touch… and a touch blind the only place in town where us underagers can get a drink these days. Down-town Belfast really lights up at night, a mix between shady neon and police car lights. The thump of music from the pubs merges with the sound of fist-fights in the back streets.
It’s a bloody mess. A violent mismatch of ignorance and violence and desperation and politics.
So we walk home, and I’m far more smashed than usual. Johnny-boy carries me for once, the pavement blurs before my eyes and the blood pounds in my head. It’s strange tonight, ‘cause it’s usually me who’s nearly sober, walking, not staggering, home to a darkened house, as filled with desperation as anywhere else. But then, it’s not usually Mary’s birthday.
Every year, I run as fast as I can away from home. I choose lose myself in a bottle, rather than in misery. But I don’t know what Dad does, stuck in that old house, all alone. He doesn’t seem the type for old photos, but I guess I don’t know the old guy that well. Maybe we’re more similar than I thought, maybe he’s the same as me, as bad as me. Maybe he’s off his face, giving lip to some PC, same as I am.
Without Mary to hold us back, we do as we ‘ave to. We turn into animals, we follow instinct and run, as fast as we can, we hide in the bottom of a bottle of beer. We can’t stop the stupid words we speak to block out her voice in our heads. We piss off some copper, and get beaten half to death in the back of a van.
And all to forget, always to forget.
Camp equipment and boredom
We just went and bought roughly £40 worth of camping equipment for DoE next week (one week... eek!). I realized that, for the next three Saturdays, I'm not going to be in the country, because next week's DoE in Wales (it counts, right?), then the 23rd's Paris (YAY!) and the third is Barcelona (Woo!).
Wow, I'm going to be shattered.
I need to do some writing or homework, not mess about blogging and playing Tetris. I got about 1300 words of Tudor done, and I need to do more planning on either my angst-story or happy-then-angst-story. Then editing Script. Not necessarily in that order.
These entries are getting more and more random, aren't they?
Wow, I'm going to be shattered.
I need to do some writing or homework, not mess about blogging and playing Tetris. I got about 1300 words of Tudor done, and I need to do more planning on either my angst-story or happy-then-angst-story. Then editing Script. Not necessarily in that order.
These entries are getting more and more random, aren't they?
Getting up at 7:30 am... on SATURDAY
Yeah, I'm up early and I don't like it. The world was not meant to be seen on a Saturday before 10am at the earliest.
Okay... news... news... Oh, yeah, I got my hair done! I have lovely blonde and red highlights... *wheeeeee!* That'll show those scary dancer girls at singing group.
And a massive pile of revision to do over the next three weeks. It's like those teachers can smell the prospect of non-school time, and automatically want to fill with void with work.
I'd probably link to a GND post here, but Wikkid.X has done enough of that. So, I'll link to the whole thing instead, anyone who reads this can work it out for themselves.
That's the nice thing about this, because no-one (with the possible exception of Wikkid.X or maybe Bubblemoon) will ever read this. I could type anything I like, and no-one gives a damn.
Lalalalalalala.... I'm gonna continue Tudor Fanficing now, I might have another chapter churned out by the end of the day.
Okay... news... news... Oh, yeah, I got my hair done! I have lovely blonde and red highlights... *wheeeeee!* That'll show those scary dancer girls at singing group.
And a massive pile of revision to do over the next three weeks. It's like those teachers can smell the prospect of non-school time, and automatically want to fill with void with work.
I'd probably link to a GND post here, but Wikkid.X has done enough of that. So, I'll link to the whole thing instead, anyone who reads this can work it out for themselves.
That's the nice thing about this, because no-one (with the possible exception of Wikkid.X or maybe Bubblemoon) will ever read this. I could type anything I like, and no-one gives a damn.
Lalalalalalala.... I'm gonna continue Tudor Fanficing now, I might have another chapter churned out by the end of the day.
Thursday, 7 May 2009
Futurama and Boredom
Futurama is awesome, no two ways around it. :D
I can't decide whether I should transplant my stories from my old account to here, or onto a new blog, or maybe I should just leave them where they are. Yeah, I think I'll only post new stuff here.
Well, that was pointless. I really have nothing better to do, though, than sit here and blog about nothing. La la la la la...
I think everyone's going to see Star Trek the Movie on Sunday. Well, except Pretty-pink-paper, she's going on a church weekend.
Meh, I think I'll go for a walk. Then I need to do some major typing.
I can't decide whether I should transplant my stories from my old account to here, or onto a new blog, or maybe I should just leave them where they are. Yeah, I think I'll only post new stuff here.
Well, that was pointless. I really have nothing better to do, though, than sit here and blog about nothing. La la la la la...
I think everyone's going to see Star Trek the Movie on Sunday. Well, except Pretty-pink-paper, she's going on a church weekend.
Meh, I think I'll go for a walk. Then I need to do some major typing.
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
It re-post
Yeah, IT... again. Now sat between Wikkid.X and pretty-pink-paper (yeah, that's her internet name... none of our parents were quite that cruel), so away from the annoying monkey boys of last time. Plus, I can actually type this time, rather than re-posting back at home.
Lol, Wikkid.X is blogging too... which reminds me. Pretty-pink-paper was being bullied again by our gang about her kiwi fruit. The kiwi is most definitly funnier than the apple, the carrot or the grape... but it comes a slow second to the banana.
Hey, I don't write this stuff... oh, wait, I do. :D
I'm really glad that this page looks official, it means less chance of getting caught.
I wish I could see the ducklings from here. They're in the little pond on the quad, and I was watching them all through History. They're so adorable! Their mum was teaching them to swim, and one of them was scared so she pushed it in, and then it was quacking happily with it's mates... yay!
That sounded rambly... I'm gonna do some work now, so I'll post at the end of class.
I'm so dead if there's a fire.
And I lost my work experience forms. So, if they don't show up at home, I'm gonna be forced to spend TWO WEEKS cleaning toilets at school. Joy.
Meh, I'm humming 'you can't stop the beat' from Hairspray. We have to sing it in the June concert, and it has ACTIONS. Me, dancing and walking in circles and oh dear oh dear. Pretty-pink-paper will attest to my appalling sense of rhythm.
Wikkid.X is still blogging.
I'm really sick of screen capping everything, including web searches. I mean, I understand that if you were forty and had only just learned where the 'on' button was, but seriously, we're the 'MySpace' generation. We know how to do things that my IT teacher couldn't begin to imagine, and we do them while msn-ing each other and blogging.
Hehe, I might get caught. :)
Pretty-pink-paper has worked constantly. I have not. Ha.
Gotta go, end of the lesson!
Lol, Wikkid.X is blogging too... which reminds me. Pretty-pink-paper was being bullied again by our gang about her kiwi fruit. The kiwi is most definitly funnier than the apple, the carrot or the grape... but it comes a slow second to the banana.
Hey, I don't write this stuff... oh, wait, I do. :D
I'm really glad that this page looks official, it means less chance of getting caught.
I wish I could see the ducklings from here. They're in the little pond on the quad, and I was watching them all through History. They're so adorable! Their mum was teaching them to swim, and one of them was scared so she pushed it in, and then it was quacking happily with it's mates... yay!
That sounded rambly... I'm gonna do some work now, so I'll post at the end of class.
I'm so dead if there's a fire.
And I lost my work experience forms. So, if they don't show up at home, I'm gonna be forced to spend TWO WEEKS cleaning toilets at school. Joy.
Meh, I'm humming 'you can't stop the beat' from Hairspray. We have to sing it in the June concert, and it has ACTIONS. Me, dancing and walking in circles and oh dear oh dear. Pretty-pink-paper will attest to my appalling sense of rhythm.
Wikkid.X is still blogging.
I'm really sick of screen capping everything, including web searches. I mean, I understand that if you were forty and had only just learned where the 'on' button was, but seriously, we're the 'MySpace' generation. We know how to do things that my IT teacher couldn't begin to imagine, and we do them while msn-ing each other and blogging.
Hehe, I might get caught. :)
Pretty-pink-paper has worked constantly. I have not. Ha.
Gotta go, end of the lesson!
Um... hi?
Hi, um... this is my new blog. I got bored with my old one... I can't decide whether to bring my posts across or not... meh, if I do, I'll do it later.
Important thing: This blog is a fresh start... although, it may die if it doesn't work on school computers, we'll have to wait and see...
I think that's it, just posting to check in!
Important thing: This blog is a fresh start... although, it may die if it doesn't work on school computers, we'll have to wait and see...
I think that's it, just posting to check in!
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