More people smile at each other when they're trying to walk in snow..

..which to me seems the perfect little example of how the human race form tighter communities when they have something to fight against or struggle through.

Though I'm not struggling; I bloody love this weather! More snow plskthx.

Wigmore Park this very morn'!

Tales from a struggling support worker, nursery nurse, and writer.

My sister Caroline: 'Can you save all your poetry please? So that when you die an old lady at 87 (random) we can all sell your work and make a fortune?'

Charming! Also, I see a slight technical problem there, dear sister...you'll be 94 at the time.

And as a side note, I'd quite like to make the fortune from them myself before that! Who wants to be my agent and publish my stories and poems for free? Anyone?

No?

Bollocks.

The universe: 'Maybe you should actually start sending some of your work off to people again. That might help, you actual twat!'

'Life, like poker, has an element of risk. It shouldn't be avoided. It should be faced.'

Blimey! An update!

I begin today's meeting by proclaiming the next statement as truthings:

It is pathetic when couples get joint Facebook accounts and the like. By all means stand together against hardships and the rest of the world blah blah, but when you represent the TWO of you as ONE thing/entity/being/whatever it all gets a bit gay and scary. Be your damn selves ffs.

I hate feeling like I have to think carefully about every little thing I write in my own blog. And actually...I'm not doing that from now on.

I watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The first film in ages that has actually had a relatively deep affect on me freaky-wise. It's like a nightmare that spirals into darker and darker corners of the mind. The lack of music was extremely effective, instead there are deep throbbing noises and screeches (like the sounds of madness) and the screams of the lead character...oh, the screams - they cut right through you. A fantastic film. Also, lol at the Hitchhiker's first appearance 'I have this knife!' although I feel sorry for him and want to look after him. Until...ya know...we meet him later on in the film. Even I'm not quite that understanding.

Here he is. And he has this knife. Which is a good knife. Apparently.

So what else have I been doing for the past two and a half weeks? I shall tell you, yes I shall. I've had lovely times at Halloween parties (though my last-minute elf costume didn't go down too well...everyone just thought I had a shit witch's costume on - didn't any of you ever see LotR? Jeeeeeeez! :P), got to know Stef and Dave a bit better (yay, smashing people indeed!), been to Bluewater (or the set of Hollyoaks - the distinction can be somewhat blurred at times), waited in a hospital with someone for ages and listened to the stressy man next to us get more and more irrate until they gave in and let him in before us - seriously, accidentally stepped in sick (Joanna, you really didn't need to clarify that was an accident...), received some of the best birthday gifts ever; including surprise fairy dresses and the most awesome home-made cake/sweetie-castle known to the living world - thank you Zak and James!!! I'm sure there's more to tell but none more shall be told because that list is quite long enough, thank you very much!

Kickboxing is awesome. I never thought I'd be interested in anything to do with Martial Arts...at least not enough to go somewhere each week to do it or buy things to help me train. Train. Hark at me!

Sitting on a bus full of teenagers in all-too-familiar school uniforms can make you think...I still didn't feel like I'd have anything to say to them or they'd have anything to say to me. I felt the same way as I would have done during my teens when faced with that situation - not fear, not apprehension...just general...detachment from the human race. (I'd put my headphones in my ears and listen to something amazing instead of listening to nonsense about boys and make-up). And then I noticed this one guy sitting at the front of the bus. He was a big guy and had crutches and everyone had their backs to him. He looked pretty calm and collected and just reached up and drew a Slipknot 'S' in the condensation of the window. I felt proud. The other kids were all pretty much ignoring him because he was not like the rest of them. And then I realised that I had it all wrong at school: Instead of trying to understand why I wasn't like everybody else, I needed to accept why they weren't like me. Which is when I found peace really. Socially, anyway. Peace in general can be a deadly, destructive place to be.

That's quite enough rambling for the day, Joanna.

BEHOLD: A quote within a quote...

'Derek says it's always good to end a paper with a quote. He says someone else has already said it best. So if you can't top it, steal from them and go out strong. So I picked a guy I thought you'd like. 'We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.' '

Dear universe...

I would like to see Ministry live please. I do not care how impossible this is. Also, Jethro Tull in their original line up.

...Just send me back in time for a while.

Yours, Joanna xx

'If life is a radio, turn up to ten!'

Well, you know you've been to a good gig when you wake up the next morning with an aching neck and beer in your hair. It's so refreshing to go to gigs with girls who actually bloody enjoy themselves and aren't afraid to just get into it. I mainly go to the heavier gigs with guys and we laugh at the girls standing around stifly, posing.

\m/ Here's to Bug and Alex for being proper metal fans and not just along for the ride or the fashion. \m/

So, Korpiklaani last night (and I was still the shortest person there even with my old new rocks on, tsk!), and last week was the Electric Circus II. Cavalcade blew every other Medway band out of the water as usual. I was also lucky enough to go along to their rehearsal a few days before the gig and observe their dynamic and how beautifully they bring all their elements, talents, and influences together to make their music. Something a bit wonderful happens when they all get behind their own little stations and start playing. I wish I had taken my sketch pad along with me and I might do that for their next gig, although I am pretty sure I will just get too excited and abandon the idea to dancing and emmersing myself in the bubble of their sound instead.

What would life be without music?

Also this week I have...been insulted by a ridiculously shallow dress-maker, tripped over several times in front of crowds of people (what is new?), spent too much money on CDs, had fun and giggles and lunch in Canterbury, enjoyed chill-out times with friends and sweeties and scary movies, ordered Rob Zombie tickets (YES! *punches the air*), had a little catch-up with Maffoo, and completely forgotten that it's my birthday in two weeks: I really should start arranging things for my birthdays. One day I will have a big party just for me and it will be fabulous and there with be much rejoicing.

'You're just an empty cage if you kill the bird...'

Chest infections will not beat me. Oh no.

As many of you know I've been on a bit of a horror kick, film-wise. For those of you who don't, I've been testing my squeemishness and jumpiness by torturing myself with any movies considered freaky or scary. I have surprised myself and become what can only be described as a 'fan'. We all know I've always been drawn to the darker parts of life but the scary movie thing was something I could never quite crack. And here it is: all cracked and gooey and shivering, begging me for mercy. *evil laughter*

I have recently watched 'Night of the Living Dead'. Please note that I am well aware this film is nothing shocking or even scary to most people - well aware after seeing Cannibal Holocaust as mentioned in previous entries! Poor monkey. I must say the fact that a black man as the capable hero of the film must have been pretty controversial and ground-breaking when it was made in 60s America. The movie couldn't have done much for feminism though - the female characters could only be described as pathetic. I didn't find myself laughing so much at this movie as I have done with other 'old classics' I've seen so far: it is still a bit creepy and the fact it's in black and white adds to the atmosphere somewhat. Also, I predicted, and hoped for, the ending it had. It gave the whole thing a push, a kick, an impact. Which got me wondering if the film was actually more intentionally political than I had initially thought. Though I'm probably looking too deeply into it. Not everything is symbolism Joanna! Get over it!

Maybe the concept of zombies has captured our modern imaginations so much is because...zombies are just humans without all of the qualities we would describe as 'human': compassion, empathy, etc. Which fits into how machinistic (that's not a word, but I've just decided it is - any complaints about this should be sent to me via email or other such communication tools) our lives have become what with modern warfare being so mechanical and impersonal, fighting each other from distances with guns and bullets and documents. We build tall stone prisons to work in, we talk to each other through handsets and keyboards and plastic and metal. We're becoming so far removed from nobility and humility in our interractions. We're becoming so far removed from each other...

'Machinery is aggressive. The weaver becomes a web, the machinist a machine.' Ralph Waldo Emerson

I've also watched Ichi the Killer but I have a lot to say on that as well, so I will bore you with that some other time. Suffice it to say that it was pretty damn awesome. And if I was a man, I'd dress like Kakihara every day, yes I would.

I wish my friends were happy all the time. I wish everyone was happy all the time. But then I suppose we'd all be bloody boring.

There are no pictures in this entry.

'I think it's a big turn on to walk down the street and kick little kids.' - Burzum, 1992. - lol

I am a non-title

If you do not find yourself overcome with the urge to click your fingers to this song, you are dead to me.



Also, please note the line 'now we go steady to the pictures, I always get chocolate stains on my pants'. This is funny if you're English...or if you're me. I don't know.

I heart my mum

Mum (looking up from her Sudoku at random and frowning): 'What I don't like about squirrels is the way they cross the road.'
Me: 'What?!'
Mum: 'Wellllllllllll...they don't do it properly.'

It's a lonely planet joy

Last night at work after everyone was in bed, I went outside for a late-night cigarette. I sat there peacefully, listening to Hindermith and looking up at a sky full of twinkly stars and dark corners, when a shooting star (sorry Toby, meteor, hehe!) waved at me and swept itself from one edge of the sky to the other. It was massive and decorated with fire. I was open-mouthed at this point and then I saw another one that actually seemed to weave its way through the stars! And no, it wasn't a plane. T'was definitely a starry-type thing. Yes. It's nice when the sky speaks to you.

Over the last two weeks I have been to some little dinner parties, attented my parents' 40th wedding anniversary garden party and (abominable) pub dinner - '...can I just take this moment to draw your attention to my Father's face?', almost had measles, giggled, felt like I'm shit at my job, felt like I'm good at my job, not saved any money like I promised myself I would (again), watched Evil Dead (okay, I'm really getting into this horror malarkey now: I thoroughly enjoyed the film AND now have the incredible urge to paint my face like Linda (post-possession) every time I put my make-up on, listened to some fantabulous moo-sic, and so on and so forth and whatnot, etc. etc., ad infinitum.

What a stunner!

One day I might dedicate an entire blog post to everything that's wrong with Twilight. But I'm not sure I could find the time. 

'...while we're at it, I'm sick of religious people forcing their children to define themselves by their parents' faith. A four year old is no more a Christian than he is a member of the Postal Worker's Union!' - Marcus Brigstock

' "I'm going to tell you a story," said Zedka. "A powerful wizard, who wanted to destroy an entire kingdom, placed a magic potion in the well from which all the inhabitants drank. Whoever drank that water would go mad. The following morning, the whole population drank from the well and they all went mad, apart from the king and his family, who had a well set aside for them alone, and which the magician had not managed to poison.

The king was worried and tried to control the population by issuing a series of edicts governing security and public health. The policemen and inspectors, however, had also drunk the poisoned water and they thought the king's decisions were absurd and resolved to take no notice of them. When the inhabitants of the kingdom heard these decrees, they became convinced that the king had gone mad and was now giving nonsensical orders. They marched on the castle and called for his abdication.

In despair, the king prepared to step down from the throne, but the queen stopped him, saying: 'Let us go and drink from the communal well. Then, we will be the same as them.'

And that was what they did: the king and the queen drank the water of madness and immediately began talking nonsense. Their subjects repented at once; now that the king was displaying such wisdom, why not allow him to continue ruling the country?

The country continued to live in peace, although its inhabitants behaved very differently from those of its neighbours. And the king was able to govern until the end of his days."

..."Do you know what exists out there?"
"People who have all drunk from the same well."
 "Exactly," said Zedka. "They think they're normal, because they all do the same thing. Well, I'm going to pretend that I have drunk from the same well as them."
 "I already did that, and that's precisely my problem..." ' - from 'Veronika Decides to Die' by Paulo Coelho