'There's a place in hell for me and my friends'

Jo came over last night and we chatted and laughed for hours. The time also involved moderate indulgence (we were good) of take away food and beer. I cleared up both rooms just for her, because she's special. Yesterday was the first time I'd cleared/cleaned the living room in Idon'tevenknowhowlong. Even Wayne and Waynetta would cower at what I found in that festering hovel so it's best I don't tell you any more about that. In fact, forget I said anything. I'm insistent on my surroundings being immaculate and freakishly sanitary at ALL times.

Anyway, we cruised onto the subject of our old work place. A building and environment both detested and loved (in a way that you love something simply because it's been a part of you for so long) by all who are regularly present there. As always happens when we talk about Lennox Wood the conversation begins with laughs but develops into a profound psychoanalysis of the human condition and it's very own cancer - mental illness. And the worst mental illness of all is Dementia. Unforgiving, illimitable and ruthlessly cruel. The elderly people we looked after weren't just the usual young person's perception of oldies: charming, anachronistic glimpses into how the world once was. Sweet and frail. They were like that sometimes (albeit, more often than not, indecipherable at the same time, or painfully vague) but could turn at any moment into something hideous, violent and dreadful. Inhuman. My years spent there will not be forgotten.

My knees are cold.

Mum's going to Spain tomorrow. Let's pretend I'm not going to miss her. I'm looking forward to it in a way though because I feel more independent when I'm not around my mother so time spent apart is good for me. Christ knows it's good for her!

I need to try and get an early night but it's quite clear that ain't 'appening. NIGHT GUYS!

'it's an ORCHESTRA of angeellls'

I'm in love with Eighties music at the moment. Blondie, Kim Carnes, Tom Petty (he was eighties right?), Eurythmics, The Cult, Billy Idol: BRING IT ON! Bring it on? - I talk to George too much.

I've gone into myself (not in a gross, contortionist way: sickos). So you're not going to get anything out of me apart from that right now.

Tarra a bit.

P.S. I wish I had eyes like Betty Davis' so I could pretend this song had been written about me.

I am an unimaginative title

Golly gosh, haven't I been dramatic lately?

Never mind all that malarkey, I feel like it's time to organise some things. Mainly: my brainypoos. In an effort to do this I shall organise the things around me starting my with room. That's right people, the floordrobe's going! (sometimes I think that people - including me - misuse the exclamation mark. For example, I wasn't really exclaiming anything in that last sentence, was I?).

Well offski I goesie for nowsie!

...Shut up Joanna.

“The world is nothing but a great desire to live and a great dissatisfaction with living”

I tried out a new writing style tonight. Usually when I write fiction it's deadly serious and I wanted to try and bring the more whimsical aspect of my personality to it, give it a bit of razzmatazz, make the mundane vernacular shine and sparkle with comic observation and imagination. Clearly I didn't achieve this (lol) but it was my first go so I'm not beating myself up about it; we didn't begin life knowing how to read and write and I don't begin interesting writing by....well, knowing how to do it. Here's a little tip for all you would-be writers out there: Don't show anybody what you're writing. Ever. However much you love them or they love you makes no odds, bruv'. Just don't show 'em. One always want the people one cares about to love everything one creates and, while being perfectly natural, is simply not realistic.

To remain confident in myself I need to keep everything private. For once I think I'm the only person who has real faith in myself where other people don't quite get it (apart from George, as always - She doesn't always get it but continues to hold a pure faith in me which is invaluable). It's usually the other way around!

Also, people (particularly my parents) need to realise that I don't take life as seriously as they do or that they think I do. I do not live in the army, I am not here to serve any of you, I have more important things to worry about than what someone's banal, predictable assumption of life tells them which cupboard to hurriedly stuff things into, or what time of day I complete a promise I made out of the kindness of my POOR, BEATEN heart! *dramatically throws back of hand to forehead*.

Aghem. I'm just having the best day I've ever had. I wish it would last for eternity. I'm also annoyed with myself that I'm debating in my head about whether to post this for fear of people getting unnecessarily offended or not. This is my journal and I can say what i bleedin' well like! :-P

I think it's about time I got my grumpy, bitter little self off to nod-land!

The Tudors didn't eat with forks! WHAT A WORLD!

Good periodoftimeafterthemiddleoftheday to you!

I came home from my English class today and informed my parents of the A* (for those of you who don't know what the asterix stands for, it's an A star, the equivalent - I've used the word equivalent too much today - is an A + if you're an Americano, I think) for my Non-fiction essay. For which I got praise from mother and from Father....well I'll let his words speak for him:

Daddy-dearest: "That's a good mark! Of course, the mark quite possibly would have been lower if somebody else was marking it. Not everybody would give it the same mark. But nevertheless there we are!"

Joanna-piana: "...thanks."

He's so defeatest and negative that it's no wonder he's done nothing with his life.

Another quote for you now then:
'you are too sweet, you know that? really, you are. you're like mother teresa on acid after spending a weekend of debauchery with leper dwarves in a seedy mud hut in the back woods of borneo, kind of sweet.'
So now everybody knows the way in which I am sweet. Thank you to my new friend on MW for bringing this vital atom of my personality to the surface. There it goes floating on the surface. Floaty, floaty! Floooaaaty floaty!

Aghem...

All a girl really needs in life is a lesbian best-friend, a devoted Mother and an extendable robot arm

Is it wrong that I find myself quotable? Arrogant, non?

I'm starting to think that I'm emotionally dead in some areas. How beautifully morbid and poetic that sounds. Please don't get the wrong idea: it's not inspiring. I just want to be left alone today. I'm not sure if I miss things or just want them to disappear completely. It feels as though there's been some sort of shift in the metaphysical atmosphere.

Yesterday we were set the first (and easiest) essay on Macbeth. 'Who is responsible for Duncan's death?'. I already know my answer and reasons for it but I'm going to have to trudge through details and theories before stating my conclusion. 'Hold on, isn't that the point of an essay?'...

English lessons for me are like my own little circus. There's the thirty-something cat-fanatic who thinks she's Joanna Trollope, the young bleach-blonde mother who has that infuriating habit of replacing 'g's with 'k's on the end of words like nothing and something (who was the first person to do that? And how is it even possible to make that unforgivable mistake by accident?) and thinks she's above Shakespeare while asking our teacher if she 'could 'ave that in English plaise?', the bulky young black man who is so shy he barely speaks above ant-volume (yes that is an official volume, didn't you learn about it in school? Fucking thickos) and assumed it'd be fine to write his NON-fiction essay in the genre of 'pornography' and personal favourite: Annabelle - my little entrepreneur. She sits next to me and is somehow both vivacious and deliberate at the same time. She is quite often late for a lesson but only because she's been busy buying stock for her online business or balancing books!

I'm mother-flippin' exhausted. I wish it was 7pm so I could justify going to sleep. 'Must be M.E!'
Toodley-poo!

Images and words

I am currently listening to 'Wait for Sleep' by Dream Theater. I officially take back every uninformed comment previously made about this band. This song is reflective, humble and alluring.

I watched 'Rain Man' earlier. It happens to be the best film I've seen in a long time. Thoughtful, enlightening, educational, and, in its own way, gentle. The acting was superb. Perhaps I am somewhat biased being that I'm obsessed with any mental condition like Autism. It's always reassuring to know that one may be a complete outcast in some ways but at the same time an utter bloody genius!

"Get back to studying" you say! Ahh but you see, my lovelies, I am taking a self-imposed (oh the joys of being my own boss) cigarette break. PLUS, there's no real rush for this work to be done. But that's not actually the point for once: I'm still doing it. I think that maybe, for the first time in my so-far underachieving life, I am focused on something that really matters muchly. However ephemeral my existence winds up to be I at least can be proud that I bloody well tried at something important. Which is more than I can say for a lot of folk in these 'ere parts. I still sometimes feel, however, that I'm disregarding my spiritual purpose by neglecting the side of me that draws towards a need to help others. I also know though that, from my heart, this is something that must be done.

Now where is that postman with my Amazon package?...

'Eels up inside ya! Findin' an entrance where they can!'

I've just fallen up the stairs AGAIN!These slippers seem to have been trying to kill me for a while now and I'm starting to become genuinely suspicious.

I've almost finished this essay about Utilitarianism and then I shall start on one of the America-based essay questions. Oh Ancient history: how I miss thee!

I am becoming increasingly tormented by the little songs that feature in The Mighty Boosh. Don't get me wrong, I love them, but will they leave my head? No they will not! Damn you Julian!

I've discovered that my writing is always more colourful and entertaining when I've been awake for more hours than is humanly healthy. The sacrifices we make, eh?

For the past ten minutes I've been singing a song to and about my dog, Leo, to the tune of 'food glorious food'. Believe it or not though the people around me are less worried about me than they probably ever have been. Which I believe, in turn, says a lot about the people I associate myself with.

Mother Goosey

Ian Anderson and Rip Torn = THE SAME PERSON

Observe:



Please note the lyrics 'the chicken fancier came to play with his long red beard, and his sister's weird: she drives a lorrrrrry!'

Journey through the dark

I woke up with the worst stomach ache this-morning and it's still there.

I had a really good time last night, Jon and I went to see 'I Am Legend' and I have to say: why did everyone say the film was awesome? It didn't seem to know what it was aiming for itself! And Will Smith is just not believeable as a 50-something scientist. Was it a zombie film? Was it a thriller? Was it an emo-fest (his dog dies)? Nooooobody knows. All I can say is this: if you have an ounce of intelligence please don't bother to go and watch this film. We had a meal out also and laughed a lot. I even got a surprise on my doorstep after he'd gone. Oh god, that makes it sound like he pooed on my doorstep doesn't it? He didn't.*

Anyway, today I must get on with some History work so time to wake my brain up and start thinking about the USA's depression era. THE FUN NEVER STOPS WITH MODERN POLITICAL HISTORY! Aghem.

Toodles!

*...or did he?

Jo-body does it better

What was all that nonsense about lovers in the last post? I mean...i asked loads of questions but didn't elaborate or come to any conclusion. I have thought about those questions though and I now conclude that you can do anything with anyone and still have no emotional feelings there. The act makes no difference. I realise that's simply a statement and no real elaboration on what I'd said, it's also not that interesting if you have no idea where all this stemmed from. But look 'ere you, this diary is for me, alright? Me. You don't have to understand it. You don't have to relate to it. You don't even have to like it! ......... oh please, please like it.

Why do I care what you think, you don't even exist? Nobody is ever going to get to read this: it's so tucked away in a little corner of the world wide webbedy web. That sounds so cozy! Actually scratch that, it makes me think of spiders. Probably for the best though, the longer I can express my feelings without being sectioned, the better.

So let's talk about a subject. I've just watched Finding Neverland. I enjoyed it, but wouldn't bother to watch it again. The best part of the film was a man dressed as a dog. In a way it's a real shame that Johnny Depp is such a hearth-throb. People don't talk about what a fine actor he really is and the focal point always seems to be on his looks. This must be frustrating for him. Although it does explain a lot when people say Ed Norton is such a wonderful actor.

It seems that through one small action - well not really action, let's say 'verbal expulsion' - of mine, several people are going to end up hurt. Now this action was not spiteful, nor of malicious intent. Infact it was quite the opposite. Isn't life utterly fascinating and colourful?

Jump through the mirror, leave fear behind

Well I've finally managed to wake up my little brainy-poos enough to post an entry.

But first let's get something out of the way, shall we?
Happy new year! Any resolutions?! I've decided to eat less and EXercise moooore! Only to change my mind next week when the sandwich man brings cream cakes into work and I simply can't help myself - oh, I'm SUCH a Bridget Jones! I'll get up on time every morning, never call in sick and make sure I paint my toe nails everyday! And then there's finding true love and someone who'll put up with me long enough to consider a life of confinement and unhappiness in a pointless, sexless marriage!

There. Most women I've heard speak in the last week have said something to that effect. Perhaps not in so many words, but that's what they meant. I'm just clarifying the bits they forgot to say for you all to see. Aren't I generous? Bridget Jones though. I don't get it, I just DON'T get it. To me, she is a shallow basket-case who seems to do nothing but waste brain cells and time.

I am insulting today, aren't I? Oh well, can't be Miss. Blue Sky every day I suppose. I have nothing of significance to say at the moment so nothing I type is going to pertain to relevence or probably even logic.

Today i am pondering the difference in sex. Making love sex and just a good old bonk sex. When does a fuck-buddy become a lover? When you sit and cuddle afterwards? When you kiss passionately as well as simple shaggery? Or is it merely whether you have romantic feelings there or not? When you have sex with someone you don't love, do you do the same things to them you would if you loved them? Surely there's more of an intimacy with real lovers. Hmm.

Exhaustion invoked rambling

'So lay back, call off the attack
'cause if you look deep dreams are nothing that I lack.
And all I seek, a final chance to speak
but I would let the whole thing keep
...if I could just sleep'

Oh Savatage, you feel my pain. Yes you do. Yesh you doooo!

Just think, if I never have to sleep again I would get so much done. I'd have just under double the time I normally have to get everything done. Just think about how many more hours of procrastination I could fit into one day! Although I suppose if you never slept one wouldn't really notice one day passing and another beginning, there'd be no break. It'd be more like.....day. Just one long, never-ending day.

What a load of old nonsense i have just wasted my time writing. Who needs drugs to talk jibberish, hmm? Not me, no sireeee bob, not me at all.

So. I've decided that this journal looks very plain. Non-descript (asthetically-speaking only of course, the content is pure gold*) and almost bleak so I shall include pretty dividers and lines to my entries from now on: ooh err! That's if I can get this technology to co-operate of course. On several occassions have I been trying to get a piece of electrical equipment to work only to find that it's turned itself off at the wall!!!

My mind is now blank so toodles poodles!

*...yes it is! Bastards.