I'll have one apocolypse please.

This is the end, yeah this is the end of the world.

So...

NaBloPoMo.

Ouch.

Next time I'm doing February. It's a cop-out month.

Not that I didn't enjoy NaBloPoMo... It was great, and my followers list doubled which made my day multiple times.

I might do it again in NoBloPoMo (November)... so I have at least six months to plan this stuff out beforehand.

I'm DRAINED.

Seriously, you know prunes? I am Queen Prune, I have no juice left at all.

And I'm even telling you this, that's how bad it is.

So it'll be back to the normal schedule for the time being, as in, I need to go out and do things and make things happen in order to be able to write about it, because reading a post about me complaining about life is SO boring compared to the things I could write in the various school holidays I've had where things actually HAPPENED, e.g. last summer, when I went for my work experience interview:

Finally Kelly (She was the head Of Human Resources or Human Head of Lettuce or something) arrived... She explained a little about the job to me and when she asked me why I was interested in working there I fucked up utterly... How do you explain that I didn't check what the job was and just looked at the job description and whether or not I had to wear a skirt, and that since then I had found what I wanted to do?

Utter fuck up...

I kept dropping the pen I was holding too due to nerves as well, she was nice about it, though she probably thinks I'm clumsy now.

Fastforward a month: At this job I broke £2000 worth of wine glasses and caused myself all kinds of injuries. Oh, you didn't know I was clumsy?

---

So here's the plan. I'll be around and about, reading blogs, commenting, tweeting and the works, same as usual, but if there's no blog it's because I'm waiting for something AWESOME.

Like Twilight coming out on DVD... It doesn't come out until the sixth here, and I'll be going into school (IN THE SCHOOL HOLIDAYS, I might add) that day.

I know. It's practically criminal.

What I go to school for.

Sometimes, well, a lot of the time, I grumble about school and WHY OH WHY OH WHY DELILAH? But sometimes it's not so bad...

Occasionally funning things happen at school. Sometimes the time arises when I can turn to Matt in physics and say 'use the force Luke, I've run out of lubricant', or giggle and clap my hands like a toddler when confronted with something called 'Le Prof Sadique' in French, which reads upon translation as:

1. His (teacher's) eyes are evil as he watches you.
2. He doesn't like you.
3. You can be really proud if you get good grades.
4. But if you enter a discussion with him you are always wrong.
5. It's best to avoid being noticed.

It's honestly like a word-for-word account of a run-in with my drama teacher.

Or maybe what I go for school for is being able to look back in my planner and school books and find notes scribbled down that were intended for my blog but never made it that far, such as:

"Having a Bill Bailey moment in which we discover that everywhere else has a news theme that you can groove to, whilst the BBC just has an apocolyptic rave."

... And...

"11.52am - French.

Reading about 'Sauvez Willy 2' whilst sitting by the oh-so-epic 'Airforce 1 Climate Control' machine, which means that all the disease in the room is being sucked up and blown onto me. FML."

Either way, there is something about school that makes it bearable once I'm out of bed, away from the crazies on the bus and actually there.

But if I were to dispell all that and pin the blame on someone, I'd say these guys are what I go to school for.



What will happen when Emma takes them to college?!

The one where Nicole gets marooned. On camera.

[So yeah, sorry about yesterday. I was in a Robin Hood-esque bubble all day. This is what was meant to for yesterday:]

I have this weird new constitution where I have to find the best part of each day and make a big deal about it.

Do care to witness my mum's attempt at parallelogram parking. That was the corrected version.



This week I figured I'd earned my right to leave the city for a few hours, go to the coast or the middle of nowhere and just STOP.

Instead we went to Bridlington.

Bridlington is just the same as York to me. It caters for tourists but is in fact a hole. So yeah, it wasn't so thrilling, but it was still a change.

First and foremost, I got stranded. Happily I caught it all on camera.



The actual town was marginally better. The weather was awful, but then again Yorkshire is one of the few places in the world where the weather forecast has no bearing on whether or not a person takes off on some great outdoors-y escapade.

The other highlight of the day would have been seeing the flag of the USA in the most irrelevant place ever.



(I'm allowed to look fugly, it was cold)

Generally, it was a day of stupidity. I went too close to the sea when the tide was coming in, I went to the coast in gale force winds, I woke up at eight o'clock. The whole sha-bang.

I think if I were to send a postcard to my this-morning self, it would have looked something like this:

Men in tights are the sex.

Today marks a new dawn for England.

It's the day I have waited for for almost thirteen months, and it's finally here.

Robin Hood is back.



I mean, the good one. The hot one.



Huhuhuhuhuhhuuu...

I waited thirteen months for that.

I can't even frame a coherent blog right now.

Kung Fu Panda

Some of you may know that I have the uncanny ability to accumulate massive bags under my eyes because I am a vampire just one of those people who has trouble sleeping and trouble staying awake at the same time.

Today was no exception.

I went to school today and I was a panda.

It wasn't even my fault. I didn't stay up late or wake up at the arse crack of dawn.

No.

It was the wind. I get all restless when it's windy outside. I had about forty different nightmares and when I relayed them to Anna she announced that I had some kind of complex because I spent the whole night being tormented by children being born and dying in the most horrific ways and uuuughh.

Yeah. I'm normal.

So, at lunchtime my BFF Main Gay.5 was being all difficult and refusing to go into the goddamn form room and so after five minutes or so of fruitless complaining, I turned to the only real way to get results - violence.

I pushed, shoved, contemplated biting and poked him. No results...

And then it happened...

I felt THE POWER.

I felt POWERFUL.

I took a deep breath, stepped back and then came flying forward, kicking his ass in the most literal way you could possibly imagine.

Though because he is my BFF Main Gay.5 he probably didn't feel it so much.

That would explain why I got no results to speak of.

But still. I kicked his ass.

I honestly think I am a reincarnation of this dude.



You'd better believe I rock shorts like that.

Pearl Harbour saw less bombing than this

[Warning: If you are averse towards swearing you might want to skip this post because I am ANGSTY, damn it! VERY angsty. I don't even swear that much, but the occasion really calls for it. (yush... I hear it's not big or clever...)]

[Also, parents: beware.]

[Furthermore, I will stop complaining about everything soon, I promise]

You want to know something that really bugs me? I mean something that REALLY bugs me, something that gets in my grill, raises my roof and all kinds of GANG-STA terms I have yet to learn?

I’m talking about fucking time.

Time is the epitome of all evil, I swear. Nothing irritates me more than having too much time, or too little time, or it being time to get up, time to go to sleep, time to go to school, or the bus not being on time.

It’s time to address this issue.

My most recent qualm with time occurred just this week, today actually, about five minutes ago if you must know, but I don’t have the time for such details at present.

Just this Monday, I was told that I had a week to do my statistics coursework. At the beginning of the week, that sounded like loads of time. LOADS.

But then on Wednesday or Thursday you look back on it and realise that a working week is only five days long (Ha. Hahaha... Whoever said that a working week stopped at the weekend was either a gym teacher or one of the elderly insane. Or both, we have four of those at our school.) and you have two days left to improve the coursework draft that was graded an E.

Then you start to stress a bit.

Now, last night I worked from the moment I got to school (8.30am) to 10pm, having had nothing but a pasta salad and a milkshake through all that time. Why? Because I didn’t have time to eat.

By 9pm I was tearing my hair out, I’d screamed into a pillow three times already and was dangerously close to snapping my beloved laptop in two.

And this is where the parents might want to listen up. Teenagers are all like this, it's best you're prepared for the worst. (ME!)

My family aren’t so much a family as an assembly of tragic fools, and that’s how we roll. My friends have this theory that I’ve had a really relaxed upbringing. They would be almost right. I was not brought up; I was dragged up, kicking and screaming.

So it would be perfectly normal in my house for me to storm into my parents’ room and commence the following conversation (Game: Count the swearwords, double points for the F-bomb):

Me: Permission to swear profusely?

Mum: Why?

Me: Because I’ve been fucking working for the last fucking thirteen pissing hours. I’m barely halfway through the stupid fucking portfolio, teachers are being twats, Nathan’s fucked shit up in drama by being such a suck up he should just go give Baguette a B-J right now and-

Mum: Nicky that’s sick.

Me: -and it smells of nail varnish, my sadistics coursework is due in in fucking two days and I haven’t done anything to bloody improve it and me and Joe fucked up the chemistry exam so badly that we have to do it again at lunchtime-

Mum: You didn’t say you had another exam.

Me: -my shoes exploded again and my stupid pissing bag broke and it really, really smells of nail varnish in here!

(QUESTION: World’s longest sentence?)

Mum: Riiight...

---

But it doesn’t even end there. The clocks go backwards or forwards or to Switzerland next week so I lose YET ANOTHER hour of my day.

Stupid time. Go die in a hole.

I can't wait for me.

Today I decided that I was too caught up acting the way people expect me to, so that has to stop.

Translation: I refuse to be insufferably quiet anymore. I refuse to take people's crap and not stand up for myself. I'm not like that anymore, I can't hang around waiting for the person I used to be. I need to be me, which is something else entirely.

---

I also have bog-all time today. We (my drama class) were going to revolt but one member is being an utter douche and so I have another portfolio to write.

Smarmy little shit...

So yes. I can't remember if I've rambled on about drama much here, but I've certainly been doing a lot of it recently.

I even have PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE.

(Yeah. That's my way of saying: 'Here are some photos, bye!')



Codders, Liv and me as Hobby, Salty and Gail in our version of 'Teechers'.



Me as Gail, rocking the neon legwarmers.



Codders, Liv and me again, mid-scene.

Say it ain't so.

I was going to write about a fight that occured at school today, to which I reacted with 'A fight! A real fight! Ooooh! It's a good one!' but who wants to hear a half-arsed re-telling of that?

Don'tSayYouDo.

---

It was a half-day at school today so I took the opportunity to catch up in my blogroll properly and came across this on LiLu's blog. I thought this was fabulous.

Technically I'm not supposed to do it because I'm not a Twenty-something or a writer as of yet, but, being me, I decided to do it anyway because I love the idea.

The Prompt:

We all have something we want to say to someone. Maybe it’s someone in your life now. Or, maybe it is something you wish you said to someone who is no longer in your life. It could even be Mr./Ms. Random Person that you saw in the local coffee shop today. What do you want to say that you were never able to?You can leave the person(s) identity anonymous, if you’d like. Feel free to feature more than one person. Do it in letter form or any form you prefer. Show us that creativity!

So you see, this could be fun. Here's what my inner Shakespeare grumbly, mopey bastard is thinking...

---

I know that it bothers you when I do things that are completely different to what's supposed to be normal. I know that it makes you cringe when I'm not loud or quiet enough. I know that you want to disown me as a friend as well. So here's my advice: Do that. It's a strain on both of us.

I think we both know you're wrong, but I'll say nothing anyway. As usual.

I know you think that we have some deep and profound connection because we are both chocolate milkshake-drinking Nightwish fans, but the fact is, you're a tool.

It was me that told your boyfriend about the other guy. He's my friend, and you were a 'ho. I know you were just having a bit of fun, but you didn't think about anyone else.

You're the best of the best, the nicest of the kindest and the most sensible crazy person I have ever met. So... nice work.

I think you're a spoilt brat with fake hair in need of a reality check.

You're the kind of person that makes coming to school everyday, getting more and more stressed and hating everything that moves just that bit more interesting.

You're an idiot to suggest that I don't want to go to the prom because I have a fear of rejection. Simple facts: Cannot dance + strong dislike for big parties + having better things to do = No fucking way.

When I was four I stole his football shirt. You were angry because he loves football. When I was four he stole my portable CD player. I was angry because I love music. I was four, he was thirteen, he knew what he was doing to the full extent, but you sided with him anyway. It's kind of grossly unfair that I come last after Paul and Cleo, Mum.

I think you're fantastic, Dad. I think you're the best person ever. I think you've got a wicked sense of humour, infallible taste in music and a great look. We should talk more.

Why do I always get a definite no? Why won't you even expend the effort to help me make the most of my life, hmm? It's always the same, you wait until it's too late to do anything and then blame it on bad timing. I don't want to wait anymore to be let down.

I'll stop shouting when she gets a grip.

So yeah. This is it. I'm still answering to you. I'm still telling you why I do things, I'm still justifying what I do, I'm still guessing at your reaction like you still matter. Actually, did you ever matter?

Hey there Baguette. You've caused a pretty large amount of trouble in our class, though when you're talking about me it's all behind my back. For you, I have two pieces of advice, both of which are conveniently summed up in two-word sentences. 1. Grow up. 2. Go screw.

---

I could probably do a better job of this, but I have really cold hands all of a sudden.

Down with the kids.

Let me tell you a little story about today...

After a day of waking up unnaturally early, sprinting down one of York's main roads, waltzing around a city that is predominantly grey, smuggling KitKats and Twix bars away from the 'School Of English' and watching Londoners screaming 'it's the end of the world! It's the end of the world!' because of an elephant, I came home, glad to crash and relax for the evening. Maybe I could watch a DVD, listen to some music and get ahead with some work?

Haha. That's a good one.

No.

My family came home from work/school. I'd climbed into bed, not planning to leave for the next sixteen hours or so.

'Are you ready to go?' My mum asks.

'Uhh... Pardon?' I'm stumped, and somewhat incredulous. I'm in bed. I am not ready - or willing - to go anywhere.

Next thing I knew I was walking to the nearest Italian Restaurant to meet the fockers.

Kel, Bunny and Rhiley were there. Bunny was being difficult, shrieking 'poo poo' in such a way that it echoed off of the walls and caused the candles to flicker. Kel was being her usual matter-of-fact self, though she'd suddenly turned into a five-year old doctor, diagnosing everyone with all kinds of far-flung diseases.

Rhiley? Giggly. We made a game whilst waiting for the food. We'd pass him along the table and see how far we could get until he started crying. (He's at that age where he doesn't know if he's laughing or crying.)

The meal was yummy. Poo (my brother...) ate all of Bunny's food because she asked for pizza and then at the very mention of icecream she said she didn't want her pizza and was saving room (clever little three-year old...) for dessert.

Le sigh.

I finished all my food and looked up to see Kel watching me, a twinkle in her eye.

'Nicoooooooole?' She said slowly.

'Yes?' I braced myself, she comes out with some horrific things.

'I know why your belly is bigger than mine.' Well. It could be worse.

I sighed. 'Why's that, Kel?'

'Because you're going to have a baby!' She shouted at me, as if it was news to me. Well, it was. It was also news to the entire restaurant.

I was mortified. I made my excuses... 'going... to see... Rhiley'.

'Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, auntie Nicoooole? You've got a baby in your tummy! You don't need Rhiley!' She jabbered on.

ShutUpShutUpShutUp.

Just call me St. Bedlam The Fifth

Last night I came across some very strange happenings... All of which were very conveniently happening on the screen on my laptop.

Exhibit A: @Exorcist



So... yes. Apparently Kurt Cobain invested in Tweetie and indeed an iPhone before popping his clogs.*

---

Exhibit B: Relatively painless



They were wrong. That homework took years of my life away from me.

---

Exhibit C: Why, hello Nicole...



This has gone too far. I understand that she's being helpful and everything, but that scared the shit out of me.**

---

Today marked the end of an era. Today was in fact the end of the world as we know it. Today was also Mother's Day, but I pretty much forgot about that until I found myself cleaning the windows from FOUR STORIES UP - this way, my mum proved that what the good Mum giveth, the good Mum can taketh away.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about.

Today I was minding my own business... Strolling around Morrisons*** and slyly looking for something to buy my mum. There was nothing unusual about this...

And then... I saw it.

It was quite big.

It was bold. (bright pink, in fact)

It was also £3.99 and at arm's length.

It had to be.

Sleepless In Seattle.

You could practically hear the tiny little strings of reason in my mind coming undone. One. By. One.

After messing around with Kel, Bunny and Rhiley for a couple of hours I sat down with my beloved laptop (it's sexual) and watched my newest DVD...

After cracking up every couple of minutes, realising that OhMyGodThatGuyPlaysThePresidentInInpendenceDay and shrieking 'LOOK! IT'S PIKE PLACE MARKET!' at the laptop like it didn't already know, I emerged inspired, enlightened and otherwise a better person for watching the film everyone at school has been referencing since the dawn of time it seems.

And that is how I lost the last of my dignity.

---

*Siiiiick. Kurt Cobain is awesome. And we don't need a gun review site in his name... We all know that the gun was effective.

**This isn't the first time either.

***Supermarket Of The Damned.

This is not an act of procrastination.

I am not stalling what has the potential to be a very long night of drama portfolio-related torment.

I am not in bed.

I am not extremely angry and confused when it's best that I'm neither.

I am not listening to Avril Lavigne on full blast.

---

All of the above statements are about as true me saying that I won American Idol last year.

Regardless, I'll go do my portfolio in a moment or two.

I had a plan today. Wake up, do drama portfolio, sigh a big sigh of relief and sleep for the rest of the day.

Yeah, I should be so lucky.

Instead, my brother broke into the house, I got dragged halfway across Yorkshire and had my dreams brutally crushed - so much so that I might actually die of internal bleeding at any given moment and you'd never know.

Ever.

---

Rach did some scouting on Google Earth today.

This is what can be seen in/around my house.



The great thing is that I actually know that guy.

Witty child.

'Aww, you're such a witty child.' said someone today. Such was the thrill of being called witty and the annoyance of being called 'child' (actually, coming from a friend, I don't mind so much) that I proceeded to try think of witty things.

After twenty minutes of over-thinking everything I gave up and mourned the twenty minutes of my life that I won't ever get back.

Today was weirdly revealing. First up, I discovered that football (soccer) is actually quite a clever sport, because you have to be all nimble and quick and calculative and you have to think really fast. I was watching the boys play a game today and it was amazing how co-ordinated and quick-paced the whole event was. I'll never demean my brother and his footie obsession ever again.

Then I discovered that my BFF Main Gay.5 - Matt - is amazingly photogenic, as he looks all sweet and lovely and innocent (and if you listen real closely you can hear my contradictory cackle) even when he's not posing.

Observe.



Nawww...

Within ten minutes of this ground-breaking, earth-shaking discovery, it became apparent to me that my form are the biggest bunch of cheapskates ever to walk the earth. This is what they are giving to charity.



For those of you that aren't fluent in English money, this bunch of coins, I.O.U slips and washers puts the term 'small change' to shame.

Seriously guys, you bastards.

IMedia remains the best lesson in the history of everything ever. Picture it: Friday, period five, sun, blue skies, a camera and one less piece of coursework to deal with.

Time to slack off, says I!

It's not as if we were the only ones not doing anything. Matt and Anna's history class were all sat out on the field when I saw them.



Yeah. I had a dilemma involving advertising Seattle from roughly 4600 miles away but I overcame it... This is step one. Find the greenest place in the whole school and unleash Tilda, Aaron and Izzie upon it.

And yes, I am aware that Fulford School looks nothing like Seattle or anything close to it. Work with me here.

So yes. Friday. Day of metal washers, Seattle Pixies and photo opportunities.



I hear a picture speaks a thousand words ('aaand shit, I've hit my coursework word limit'), but in short: I'm a very unnerving person to be around.

Whoever said I had all the time in the world was seriously confused.

Am caught up in the middle of coursework in which I CHALLENGE GOD and otherwise fuck up the system and so can only leave you with a couple of pictures for today.

Luckily today is Tilda's birthday and so I had my camera at school.



Lemon and me - The Two Coolest People You Will EVER Meet.



Bena ('African Beauty') and The Whitest Girl In The World (this freak goes by the name of 'Nicole')

Bonus pic:



My sister has her good days.

Some frustrations.

[Warning: The following post contains surplus amounts of angst with just a gallon or two of trivial complaining.]

I am teenager. Hear me roar.

For real, I'm chewing on my own angst right now.

• My sister is using every opportunity to complain. Currently she is crying because she had eaten too much, and is grumbling because she missed out on all the trite children's gossip at school last week and has to catch up. HA! Look at what I have to catch up on.


• I don't understand the whole university system and I really want to because given my choice of university, I really need to plan this one. I want to ask someone who knows these things from experience but can't for all of four reasons: a) My dad may or may not be in Turkey, b) My brother never attended university, or college for that matter, c) When I went to ask my mum she was too drunk to answer coherently and given that it was fucking Tuesday I think that's pretty damn frustrating, and d) I'm too shy and time-consumed to ask any of the adults I see on a daily basis.


• Once again I have to stay up (this was written last night by the way) until 2am because my sister insists on keeping the light on for no conceivable reason and won't let me turn it off whilst she's concious. Then, when I - sleep-deprived - complain, my mother says I should just back off and compromise and I'm all AND WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I TAKE THIS LYING DOWN IF I'M NOT SLEEPING?! and then I get called selfish and inconsiderate when really I'm just exhausted and long since past my mental capacity.


• The way people simply REFUSE to get along in drama bugs me. The Drama Woman is the kind of person who incites hatred by SUGGESTING THAT WE SHOULD ALL BE MAD WITH RYAN REALLY LOUDLY and making everyone wildly competitive, enough so that even the closest of friends will turn against each other. And I was so sure that friends came first...


• I wanted this week, month, year, decade to speed up, but now I can't remember where the last six months went and that unsettles me quite a bit.


• Universities have a wide range of just STUFF. I don't understand it. I can't even navigate the website properly. I wish they'd just tell me what on Earth they are talking about already.

But hey, I'm fifteen. Who listens to me?

I've exposed your lies, baby.

Today was summer-like. So much so that you could almost taste it.

But that might be heavy pollution, I don't know.

Today, the workload was murder, I lost the will to live learn, my shoes exploded, I wore horrible blister-inducing, sole-corrupting (see what I did there?) shoes that caused me to BLEED all over the place, and I STILL had to limp the two miles home.

But everything got better at lunchtime. Sure, we were moved on because Bodey found us eating our lunch on the traffic island. Yeah, maybe we had to do litter duty after that, but it was prefectly great when we were sitting on the field, enjoying the sun and only having to worry about our shadows for the hour (long story).

Then, after a grizzly walk/limp home, I discovered this on the doormat.



Need a close-up?



Yeah. The BNP had come calling.

They have NO idea how lucky they are to be alive, had I been at home when they delivered this, they would have lost a limb.

Then I began to ponder on what my mum would have done...

Entertained to the max, I decided to leave a little note of my own...



As far as my nostrils can tell me, she ripped it up and burnt the pieces.

Or maybe that's just the toast.

Oh shit!

Time is running out.

I really am just going to have to post photos today because I am drowning in homework and revision and shit and there is just NO TIME in the world because I want to go on the Wii and my blogroll is massive and BLAH.

Behold...

The Most Impressive Places I Have Ever Been To In Regard To The Fact That I've Never Been Anywhere Except Berlin.

Berlin TV Tower.

Sony Centre

Reichstag

Berlin Olympic Stadium (do not be fooled... It was built by hard-core Nazis)

More Olympic awesomeness.

Holocaust Memorial plus sleepy Nicole.

The *something* Gate.

A probably-more-than-a-church (view from Berlin canal).

Saturday Night Fever

So indeedy, my camera got a work out yesterday.

I posted (in an ever so trite fashion) about the grief my hair was giving me. And for that, I hope you'll forgive me.

Here's a run-down of the night...

We all congregated at Tilda's house, which resulted in Tilda's bedroom wall being covered in glue, Emma swallowing a tablet for what is probably the FOURTH TIME EVER - sound the bells of England - and me finding a new hobby which may or may not have involved Tilda's dressing gown.



Then we all went to Pizza Express via the river, which was a laugh in itself.



Pizza Express... Ever so posh, and pricey (but I'll get to that later) and the kind of place that reminds me of where I went to work for a couple of weeks last year... I salute those waiters and waitresses, I honestly do.



Meet everyone, minus a few who deftly dodged my camera. People such as Anna are little more than a myth at these kinds of functions...



The food arrived, lovely and yummy looking, and I had the Mother Of All Canelloni.



Then, sometime before being cruelly pressured into having the world's best chocolate fudge cake, Anna and Emma began a staring contest to end the world.



Brilliant. Was sat between what were the two most anti-social people there.



I took the opportunity to try sidetrack them both and discovered that Emma's boobs reflect the sun.



Evan went about his duties, posing with all the girls there in a most amusing way... (oh aren't we talking in a very posh way today?)



And then Tilda might have had an epiphany of some kind, but I was too far gone with the chocolate cake to remember.

We all waddled home... My mum and sister came to pick me up from Tilda's house in their pyjamas.

Thank God they didn't get out of the car.

---

Anyway, I have to go... My mum's ill and Cleo's giving me her world-famous holier-than-thou look because she's cleaning the house and I'm... err... not.

Bad hair day.

I'm going out for a pizza party today so I haven't taken any pictures. (I'm 90% sure that nobody wants to see pictures of me trying to get ready to go out).

Also, I have been confronted by a dilemma that demands my utmost attention.



My hair has decided to get ambitious at exactly the wrong moment.

It never used to be like this... Once upon my time my hair would just SIT THERE and be BORING.

I mean, look at it, it clearly isn't working with me here.



Yeah. I was one of those kids.

And boy did I have eyebrows.

Twisted sister.

This picture was nothing special... I was rejoicing in the fact that I didn't look so entirely like death anymore.



But then, as I was clearing my camera, there were more photos than I remembered taking...



Hoo Dunnit?

And WOT FOR?

Fuming, I went to interrogate my mum and sister. As soon as I showed them the evidence my sister burst out laughing.

It wasn't hard to guess the culprit after that...

Cleo Smith Will Pay.

It all came off in the shower before I saw it in the mirror. If she had taken the photos on her camera instead of mine, I would never have known about it...

Very sloppy work on her part.

Though I doubt she'll make the same mistake twice...

Visual karma.

Good morning, gang!

I-

Yeah, I know. I can't forgive me for that either.

I've narrowed down the reasons for my distraction into three distinct categories.

1. The magical unicorn that sleeps in my bed.

2. My shameless addiction to Twitter, Blogger, Tumblr, Facebook, TH.net Forum and a fantabulous game called Poppit.

3. The seating plan for Lauren and Tilda's birthday this Saturday *SQUEE!*

...

The thing is, I have this magical thing called a personal paper demon portfolio to write, and despite being open, ready and waiting for almost three hours now, it looks a lot - if not exactly - like this.



You see my problem.

So yes. I appear to have screwed up my education ever so slightly with only weeks to go.



So anyway, I want to keep with the wonderful NaBloPoMo, which I'm all over like a rash at the moment, and so I won't be gone.

You see, I have this amazing device in my inventory. It can product something worth looking at in .1 of a second.

Yes. I'm talking about a camera.

So here's the deal. I bugger off and do my various personal paper demons and face the wrath of my teachers, but I'll keep my camera on hand and post a couple of photos every day, because I want the dudey little badge saying I completed NaBloPoMo AGAINST ALL ODDS and against the will of the unstoppable force of nature that is my drama teacher.

And in the words of millions of procrastinators across the globe, "I'll do it tomorrow".

Summer lovin'

So, today I was sifting through all my school work and filling in my planner with all manner of exam-related crap in an attempt at organisation.

For the most part, all my negative 'HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO SURVIVE THIS?!' vibes have kind of fallen away, because my exams are over a seven-week period, and the 'nice' ominous, bold, black writing in the handbook said to maintain POSITIVE THINKING, whatever that means.

Planning the stuff out felt a little better than sitting around like a... duck... waiting to be... buggered. (I'm trying to get across the image of dread here, can you tell?)

So in a feat of POSITIVE THINKING (it really doesn't look all that inviting, written like that) I'm thinking about all the gorgeous things that I have to look forward to.

Summer. Summer is gonna be a killer this year!!! I finish my exams (should be a cuss word of the highest degree. The E word. Haha... Taking my E's) in early June and there's no school college sixth form until September, so I can just chill for three months...

WRONG! This summer will be even better.

I'm going to Tenerife this year!!!



We're staying with my mum's friend out there for ten days, it's gonna be gorgeous.

Despite the fact there are approximately three people who really don't like me for this, I'm dead excited. I never go abroad, and I've never been anywhere that hot. I might even like it. I'll be back at the end of August, and I'll be all tanned/burnt for my triumphant return to Flufford, which will be, well, different. Last time it was sunny at school I rolled back my sleeves to demonstrate to Anna how my skin is so pale that I actually reflect the sun, it's unreal.

Then there are other incentives...

You see, around my room there are various reminders of exactly why I need to work hard. I need to keep going to get what I want. And I think I've made it pretty clear exactly what it is that I want here before now.

(Psst... If you can't be bothered to click the link, here's a clue for you.)



Yeah. That's what can be found in my bedroom. Six travel books, a couple of drawings I did during a maths exam, stuff stuck in the back of my school books and various elements of my laptop.

Shut up, I'm not obsessed.

So yeah, whilst it's a long-shot, going to Seattle is still a pretty good goal to work towards.

Plus there is something undeniably good about scribbling 'noooo', 'nope', 'nichts', 'nil', 'nah, not me mate', and 'now go do something else with your life for three months' all over my school planner.

But there I go jumping the gun...

I'm in a crowd and I'm still alone.

I guess I can kind of see where this guy is coming from. He's different isn't he?

I mean... He's a dolphin, and he's pink.

Well I'm a human, and I'm just weird.

In primary school I was always treated in a annoyingly intensive way because of my supermassive allergies and other Oh Lordy Is She Going To Die Today factors. By the time I hit year five I'd stopped trying to fit in and just rolled with it.

And then because I was an obsessive Lord Of The Rings fan in year six it took three years before I could shake off James FUCKING Grant's various quips and snide comments completely.

Then in year seven I was so spooked by the difference between primary and secondary school that I was ill a lot of the time (like, actually ill) and certain evil a-holes in my form told me that 'everyone knows that you skive off to avoid PE'.

JESUS! I was fat[ter], not a total fucking moron.

In short, I've never been in with any crowd (the Urban Family are extremely diverse people, but we rule). I've never followed trends, I've never strived to be accepted, I've never conformed with something I'm not comfortable with and I've never tried to be something I'm not.

You may also notice that I have a relatively small group of friends, I spent eight days a week on the interwebs (to the point I've started speaking with an American dialect - see Anna for details) and I'm stark raving bonkers.

But, and do you want to know something weird?

I like it.

I absolutely love being me.

I don't know who else to be and I've come to get along pretty well with the annoying narrative in my head.

I frequently say I need a change, or FML, or I'm so bored with life that I could eat myself.

But you know what?

So long as it's me sucking at life, I wouldn't have it any other way.