I won't be blogging over the weekend, I warn you now. I'm going away for the weekend.
My father's part of a few freemasonry lodges (they're nothing like the Dan Brown books ... they stopped cutting people's tongues out in 1985 at the latest ...) and one of them goes to Bournemouth every April/May for their Ladies Night (when all the men make a fuss of the women. Yes, it's archaic and masogenistic ... but 7 course dinners, dressing up, raising money for charities and being given a free gift just because you have boobs is actually pretty fun. Also, having some loud-mouth announce you to the room ...) Apparently it's stopping the Bournemouth tradition after this year, but this is also the first year kids are allowed, hence why I'm even going. I went a few years ago with my then-boyfriend, that was pretty cool. We got him a Kaiser Chief's tie to wear from the Carling Live 24 gig we'd been at the night before, but in the photo's the 'kaiser cheif' bit just looks like stripes.
So yeah, will be interesting. Won't be able to do the 'let's walk into Bournemouth city centre at 1am in tux's amongst the clubbers to get some chips/kebabs' tradition with my boy in tow ... but the shakeaways the morning after is a definite. I love shakeaways (and Millie's cookies. Both are in Lakeside, where I'm going tomorrow just beforehand. Hmmmmmm!)
And since you're so obviously wondering - I'm taking 'This Bleeding City' and 'The Girl Who Could Fly'. Plus my laptop, for proof-reading during naptime/boy's downtime tomorrow. And then, I'll be sending copies out - and if you haven't already read my atrocious writing (I do make Stefenie Meyer look good) and you want to ... comment on this post and I'll let you have the drivel too.
Thursday 29 April 2010
Wednesday 28 April 2010
Just a quick, blah-blah post
I've not been sleeping well lately, so I'm determined to be asleep in the next 20 minutes. Just wanted to do a quick update.
So this morning, I was dropping my son off at nursery before work, and this guy comes running through the kid's centre car park shouting like crazy. At first, I thought he was a psycho, then when he got nearer I started to understand him (but his accent was really thick given his excitement). He wanted water. His van was on fire. Cue the huge BANG from the engine. The school next to the kid's centre is under construction atm, so the builders brought over a few foam extinguishers and the secretaries at the kid's centre gave a couple too. It was still smoking like crazy though. But the best thing for my boy was to be in the nursery the other end of the building, so I got him out the way (couldn't really help either) and when I left the nursery, two fire engines were pulling up. We'd already passed an ambulance down our road on the way ... do you ever get that weird sense of premonition? The greater powers that be (God, Karma, luck, coincidence ... take your pick) are sending you messages? The trip from home, to nursery, to work, felt like a big, fat, huge message. I pass a police station on the way to work, but I passed a police car too ... and a couple of community officers on foot. At one point in the morning, I heard a helicopter, which I figure must have been a rescue one, since we get them occasionally ... I don't know that there's many more rescue services out there.
Good premonition by the way everyone - my day at work was kinda crappy. I got left some work and not told about it until the time it should have been done (I might have been able to do it before, but then again maybe not as a different branch had people over to learn this new system we've been using for a year or so now. At my station. Fuuuuuun ...) and when I could fit time in to work, someone else got in my way. Grrrrr ... I left the last few things for the late shifters, but I was in such a bad mood about that [should mention here, I can hear that helicopter again] and because every time I went to do it I got interrupted for something or other. And those interruptions were annoying, because the customers just didn't know what they wanted, or they were pushy or just .... argh, sometimes my job would be easier without customers. Though I like being busy ... I'll keep the nice ones.
And then when we got home and I put my boy to bed he was such a stinker. He won't lay down and listen to his bedtime story, and I talk myself hoarse, but he still won't let me leave. And he still interrupts if I croak on. I might introduce time limits. I can't read an entire chapter of Harry Potter 4 every night, they're getting longer and longer, with fewer mid-chapter breaks.
In other news, I'm taking another break from On The Road. It's easy enough to read and there's enough plot and the writing style's okay ... it's just lacking something for me. Empathy for the main characters? Or it's just reminding me of the few options I do have. I'd like to float over to Denver on a cocktail of hitchhiking and vodka too ... you're not fair Sal.
It's a bad book for me to read atm.
So this morning, I was dropping my son off at nursery before work, and this guy comes running through the kid's centre car park shouting like crazy. At first, I thought he was a psycho, then when he got nearer I started to understand him (but his accent was really thick given his excitement). He wanted water. His van was on fire. Cue the huge BANG from the engine. The school next to the kid's centre is under construction atm, so the builders brought over a few foam extinguishers and the secretaries at the kid's centre gave a couple too. It was still smoking like crazy though. But the best thing for my boy was to be in the nursery the other end of the building, so I got him out the way (couldn't really help either) and when I left the nursery, two fire engines were pulling up. We'd already passed an ambulance down our road on the way ... do you ever get that weird sense of premonition? The greater powers that be (God, Karma, luck, coincidence ... take your pick) are sending you messages? The trip from home, to nursery, to work, felt like a big, fat, huge message. I pass a police station on the way to work, but I passed a police car too ... and a couple of community officers on foot. At one point in the morning, I heard a helicopter, which I figure must have been a rescue one, since we get them occasionally ... I don't know that there's many more rescue services out there.
Good premonition by the way everyone - my day at work was kinda crappy. I got left some work and not told about it until the time it should have been done (I might have been able to do it before, but then again maybe not as a different branch had people over to learn this new system we've been using for a year or so now. At my station. Fuuuuuun ...) and when I could fit time in to work, someone else got in my way. Grrrrr ... I left the last few things for the late shifters, but I was in such a bad mood about that [should mention here, I can hear that helicopter again] and because every time I went to do it I got interrupted for something or other. And those interruptions were annoying, because the customers just didn't know what they wanted, or they were pushy or just .... argh, sometimes my job would be easier without customers. Though I like being busy ... I'll keep the nice ones.
And then when we got home and I put my boy to bed he was such a stinker. He won't lay down and listen to his bedtime story, and I talk myself hoarse, but he still won't let me leave. And he still interrupts if I croak on. I might introduce time limits. I can't read an entire chapter of Harry Potter 4 every night, they're getting longer and longer, with fewer mid-chapter breaks.
In other news, I'm taking another break from On The Road. It's easy enough to read and there's enough plot and the writing style's okay ... it's just lacking something for me. Empathy for the main characters? Or it's just reminding me of the few options I do have. I'd like to float over to Denver on a cocktail of hitchhiking and vodka too ... you're not fair Sal.
It's a bad book for me to read atm.
Tuesday 27 April 2010
Caffrin
I'm still doing these posts!
I felt like watching Anchorman tonight (it's on right now) and it always reminds me of Cat, since she quotes it every so often on facebook/twitter. She had the Glass Case of Emotion as a signiture on one website too ... oh, and when we went to New York last year to see Drake Bell/Paul McCartney perform (not together, obviously. Though if you watch Chasing Destiny, you see Drake playing with Roger Daltry) the flight had Anchorman in it's film catalogue (that was sweet, watch what you want when you want). She was giggling to Anchorman as I read/cried over Lock and Key by Sarah Dessen, since my TV was broken - the cabin crew definitely tried to get us drunk to stop us complaining.
So ... Cat. What can I say about Cat to try and encapsulate how I think/feel about Cat? I don't know if I actually can, so I'll tell a few stories. And then, if you try and mess with Caffrin ever, realise it's a deathwish, okay?
Cat and I went to see My Chemical Romance at The Underworld in Camden just after I got back from New York a few years ago - I'd gone to the Warped tour, a pop-punk festival, with a friend of ours called Ama. There was only a few tickets, and Cat scored a pair, and I snuck along. It was a pretty funny day, we started queuing up early and started talking to some of the other girls queuing. At one point, we were sharing oreo's I'd snuck over from the States (double-stuffs, I think) and this tramp comes stumbling up to us ... I'd feel sorry for him but he almost fell on us. Never seen so many punk/goth types move so fast! A little later, nearer the start of the concert, we'd moved a little closer to the entrance, but it was by the pub entrance (if you've been to the underworld this will make sense. The Underworld is the club under The World's End pub. We've seen Mark Read and Ben Adams from a1 there, and Dave from Son Of Dork. And countless bands in the club) anyway everyone around us started screaming and rushing forward because Oh Em Geeeee, MCR were crossing the road, coming directly for us. Catty got caught up in the OMG-ness, and when she turned back to see why I wasn't with her (I was marking our place in the queue like it was my lifeline) she started laughing because everyone else was getting shoved aside by bodyguards, and there I was leaning on the door frame, nodding to the band and bodyguards going "'sup?". So if you don't act like a crazy fan, you get within inches of the band easy.
We went to France when I was pregnant with my boy, to see the French GIAN. To be honest, it was crap, the French don't dance. Everyone was excited about The Used (I've seen them before. Bert is crap, kept interrupting to say 'don't hurt each other' when Brixton was barely moshing) but after a big intro there was nothing. Motion City Soundtrack, The Sleeping and New Found Glory were easily the best things in that line up. Cat was into Aiden back then, so she joined in on the Wall Of Death while I tried not to get hurt. We went to the Louvre on one of the days, and ended up with our feet in the outdoor fountains. It was so blooming hot! We (or just me) bought so much crap we never ate lol. It was my first time flying with Easyjet too ... craziness!
Once, at uni, I had a few 'issues' with my LEA/my money (something to do with paperwork and having £2000 cancelled at once. ouch). I was living on porridge for like, a week. And during that time, Catty sent me a care package. I still remember the note, it was like 'I can't afford to give you money, but I can't have you living without the taste of chocolate' - there were a couple packs of crisps and a few chocolate bars. And some wooden roses I still have. No matter what happens, I'll never forget she did that for me. You can't repay acts of kindness like that (not because she gave me chocolate, that she'd send anything full stop).
In New York, I suffered really bad jetlag - I fell asleep at the Paul McCartney concert (it was awful, it was like 'you're a musical genius I'll never get to see again, but isn't 4 encores enough? Oh, and thanks for having Billy Joel on stage, his 'Vienna' is my favourite song EVER.') and Cat had to keep prodding me along so we could get the last train from Queens to Port Authority, and then back to Newark. She was so patient, and I got so annoyed - not with her, though I was all for sleeping on the station floor - with myself for being all helpless and not me. And the next day we had such a laugh in the car to Drake's concert in Atlantic City, talking to our driver Paul for two hours (we ordered a basic sedan and got a stretch Limo, score!). Paul was a bank manager who drove for his friend in his spare time. He taught us some American insults (we love Chickenhead. Birds, in America, are women who fly from one guy to another. Chickenhead's peck about, from guy to guy to guy. I love American insults, they're so visual) and we taught him some English ones. On the way home, we got pulled over for speeding ... and OMFG the road police in American programmes aren't exaggerated at all. "Why were you speeding?" *explanation* "Don't backtalk me." Ummm ...
We loved our hotel too - we had pizza hut for room service, and Men In Black was on when we got there. Because it was on my parents timeshare, we were on an exclusive floor, so you had to use your door key in the lift to get there. We had our own room on the floor for breakfast too, so we didn't have to pay. There was loads to eat there! First time I ever tried French Toast ...
We went to our friend Kelly's, with Charli and Jodie, last February. Cat and I started slating the Twilight books on the train, and Charli and Jodie shut us up because they hadn't read them yet, lol. We slated in code. At the train station on the way back, we all joined in with Cat's signiture picture pose, all trying to be caught in mid-air. Didn't work too well with 4 of us trying from different directions lol.
Cat's like this magic energy, I feel so happy just being near her. She's hysterical but caring, so she's just what you need when you feel low. All my happiest memories have Cat smack in the centre. She's come out with some cracking one-liners too, half the 'quotes' section on my facebook came out of her mouth ("Look, Inspector Morse!" At Bakerloo station for example).
Oh, and I called this 'Caffrin' because we jokingly called her that after the way Catherine Tate says her own name. We made Cat common, lol. It's the commonest thing about her, she's way too special to actually be common.
I felt like watching Anchorman tonight (it's on right now) and it always reminds me of Cat, since she quotes it every so often on facebook/twitter. She had the Glass Case of Emotion as a signiture on one website too ... oh, and when we went to New York last year to see Drake Bell/Paul McCartney perform (not together, obviously. Though if you watch Chasing Destiny, you see Drake playing with Roger Daltry) the flight had Anchorman in it's film catalogue (that was sweet, watch what you want when you want). She was giggling to Anchorman as I read/cried over Lock and Key by Sarah Dessen, since my TV was broken - the cabin crew definitely tried to get us drunk to stop us complaining.
So ... Cat. What can I say about Cat to try and encapsulate how I think/feel about Cat? I don't know if I actually can, so I'll tell a few stories. And then, if you try and mess with Caffrin ever, realise it's a deathwish, okay?
Cat and I went to see My Chemical Romance at The Underworld in Camden just after I got back from New York a few years ago - I'd gone to the Warped tour, a pop-punk festival, with a friend of ours called Ama. There was only a few tickets, and Cat scored a pair, and I snuck along. It was a pretty funny day, we started queuing up early and started talking to some of the other girls queuing. At one point, we were sharing oreo's I'd snuck over from the States (double-stuffs, I think) and this tramp comes stumbling up to us ... I'd feel sorry for him but he almost fell on us. Never seen so many punk/goth types move so fast! A little later, nearer the start of the concert, we'd moved a little closer to the entrance, but it was by the pub entrance (if you've been to the underworld this will make sense. The Underworld is the club under The World's End pub. We've seen Mark Read and Ben Adams from a1 there, and Dave from Son Of Dork. And countless bands in the club) anyway everyone around us started screaming and rushing forward because Oh Em Geeeee, MCR were crossing the road, coming directly for us. Catty got caught up in the OMG-ness, and when she turned back to see why I wasn't with her (I was marking our place in the queue like it was my lifeline) she started laughing because everyone else was getting shoved aside by bodyguards, and there I was leaning on the door frame, nodding to the band and bodyguards going "'sup?". So if you don't act like a crazy fan, you get within inches of the band easy.
We went to France when I was pregnant with my boy, to see the French GIAN. To be honest, it was crap, the French don't dance. Everyone was excited about The Used (I've seen them before. Bert is crap, kept interrupting to say 'don't hurt each other' when Brixton was barely moshing) but after a big intro there was nothing. Motion City Soundtrack, The Sleeping and New Found Glory were easily the best things in that line up. Cat was into Aiden back then, so she joined in on the Wall Of Death while I tried not to get hurt. We went to the Louvre on one of the days, and ended up with our feet in the outdoor fountains. It was so blooming hot! We (or just me) bought so much crap we never ate lol. It was my first time flying with Easyjet too ... craziness!
Once, at uni, I had a few 'issues' with my LEA/my money (something to do with paperwork and having £2000 cancelled at once. ouch). I was living on porridge for like, a week. And during that time, Catty sent me a care package. I still remember the note, it was like 'I can't afford to give you money, but I can't have you living without the taste of chocolate' - there were a couple packs of crisps and a few chocolate bars. And some wooden roses I still have. No matter what happens, I'll never forget she did that for me. You can't repay acts of kindness like that (not because she gave me chocolate, that she'd send anything full stop).
In New York, I suffered really bad jetlag - I fell asleep at the Paul McCartney concert (it was awful, it was like 'you're a musical genius I'll never get to see again, but isn't 4 encores enough? Oh, and thanks for having Billy Joel on stage, his 'Vienna' is my favourite song EVER.') and Cat had to keep prodding me along so we could get the last train from Queens to Port Authority, and then back to Newark. She was so patient, and I got so annoyed - not with her, though I was all for sleeping on the station floor - with myself for being all helpless and not me. And the next day we had such a laugh in the car to Drake's concert in Atlantic City, talking to our driver Paul for two hours (we ordered a basic sedan and got a stretch Limo, score!). Paul was a bank manager who drove for his friend in his spare time. He taught us some American insults (we love Chickenhead. Birds, in America, are women who fly from one guy to another. Chickenhead's peck about, from guy to guy to guy. I love American insults, they're so visual) and we taught him some English ones. On the way home, we got pulled over for speeding ... and OMFG the road police in American programmes aren't exaggerated at all. "Why were you speeding?" *explanation* "Don't backtalk me." Ummm ...
We loved our hotel too - we had pizza hut for room service, and Men In Black was on when we got there. Because it was on my parents timeshare, we were on an exclusive floor, so you had to use your door key in the lift to get there. We had our own room on the floor for breakfast too, so we didn't have to pay. There was loads to eat there! First time I ever tried French Toast ...
We went to our friend Kelly's, with Charli and Jodie, last February. Cat and I started slating the Twilight books on the train, and Charli and Jodie shut us up because they hadn't read them yet, lol. We slated in code. At the train station on the way back, we all joined in with Cat's signiture picture pose, all trying to be caught in mid-air. Didn't work too well with 4 of us trying from different directions lol.
Cat's like this magic energy, I feel so happy just being near her. She's hysterical but caring, so she's just what you need when you feel low. All my happiest memories have Cat smack in the centre. She's come out with some cracking one-liners too, half the 'quotes' section on my facebook came out of her mouth ("Look, Inspector Morse!" At Bakerloo station for example).
Oh, and I called this 'Caffrin' because we jokingly called her that after the way Catherine Tate says her own name. We made Cat common, lol. It's the commonest thing about her, she's way too special to actually be common.
Monday 26 April 2010
Ew.
So this morning, I was bleary-eyed and making myself a cup of tea, when my boy points to the floor and says 'look mummy, a spider'.
I think that's toddler speak for 'ant'.
I killed about ten of the buggers today, and did this huge pile of washing up ... and cleaned the floor and the worktop ... but I couldn't find any ant killer so am still worried they're going to come in. Would be helpful if my family weren't all slobs lol ...
... meant I spent most of my day off rushing around cleaning/buying cleaning products. Ended up speeding for most of my driving lesson (lol 'When you stop doing your Lewis Hamilton impression, you're really improving') and got reminded about 7.15 that someone at work was re-doing her birthday cocktails.
I missed it. Would have loved to go but I'm worn out, and I went to the first one. A lot of people went so I don't get why there's a repeat? Plus I'm working tomorrow and my parents were out until 10.30 so I had no one to look after the boy.
I do wanna get out more though. Helps me lose weight, haha. Mainly because I snack like crazy when I read. No wonder I've gained a stone in a year.
I think that's toddler speak for 'ant'.
I killed about ten of the buggers today, and did this huge pile of washing up ... and cleaned the floor and the worktop ... but I couldn't find any ant killer so am still worried they're going to come in. Would be helpful if my family weren't all slobs lol ...
... meant I spent most of my day off rushing around cleaning/buying cleaning products. Ended up speeding for most of my driving lesson (lol 'When you stop doing your Lewis Hamilton impression, you're really improving') and got reminded about 7.15 that someone at work was re-doing her birthday cocktails.
I missed it. Would have loved to go but I'm worn out, and I went to the first one. A lot of people went so I don't get why there's a repeat? Plus I'm working tomorrow and my parents were out until 10.30 so I had no one to look after the boy.
I do wanna get out more though. Helps me lose weight, haha. Mainly because I snack like crazy when I read. No wonder I've gained a stone in a year.
Saturday 24 April 2010
Let's go, go GO!
So, I've been driving since September. Lessons, I mean, I haven't even looked at test options yet.
Anyway, today I had a lesson before work (the joys of shifts) and it was pretty good. Been doing 'turn in the road' for a while, and I started reversing round corners a few weeks ago (am better at the corners than the turns. Especially if another car shows up, my instructor has to remind me to go slow. Meh) and today I got to reverse park ... was pretty good! I do actually love driving but whenever I get in the car it takes me a minute of staring at the controls to remind myself what the hell I'm actually doing. And when I started, 20mph scared me, but now ... it's 50 or nothing hahaha, no wonder I get called a boy racer.
We had a couple of rocky weeks about a month or so ago, where it felt like he was telling me something and expecting something else. And he's making me decision make more, but we got to this one roundabout back then and every time I went to go he'd put the brakes on and make me start again - so frustrating! But now I'm kicking ass on roundabouts. Almost.
I've got a mental block with the theory books though. I keep telling myself it's common sense, but ... I haven't lifted a textbook in a while, okay? I am strictly fictional post-Uni. Which is probably why this end of things doesn't appeal to me.
I have to drive though. My dad keeps falling asleep at the wheel because we all kind of expect a lot out of him (I'm trying to help out, but sometimes it's hard to fit it all in) and I don't want him to get him or anyone else killed because he didn't get enough sleep. Plus, when the boy goes to school/clubs, I wanna be the one to take him where he needs to be (and he's shown a big interest in Karate. Helped by my brother-in-law, who's a blackbelt). It's necessity and not desire that has me driving ... but it's nice to know you can enjoy something you HAVE to do.
Anyway, today I had a lesson before work (the joys of shifts) and it was pretty good. Been doing 'turn in the road' for a while, and I started reversing round corners a few weeks ago (am better at the corners than the turns. Especially if another car shows up, my instructor has to remind me to go slow. Meh) and today I got to reverse park ... was pretty good! I do actually love driving but whenever I get in the car it takes me a minute of staring at the controls to remind myself what the hell I'm actually doing. And when I started, 20mph scared me, but now ... it's 50 or nothing hahaha, no wonder I get called a boy racer.
We had a couple of rocky weeks about a month or so ago, where it felt like he was telling me something and expecting something else. And he's making me decision make more, but we got to this one roundabout back then and every time I went to go he'd put the brakes on and make me start again - so frustrating! But now I'm kicking ass on roundabouts. Almost.
I've got a mental block with the theory books though. I keep telling myself it's common sense, but ... I haven't lifted a textbook in a while, okay? I am strictly fictional post-Uni. Which is probably why this end of things doesn't appeal to me.
I have to drive though. My dad keeps falling asleep at the wheel because we all kind of expect a lot out of him (I'm trying to help out, but sometimes it's hard to fit it all in) and I don't want him to get him or anyone else killed because he didn't get enough sleep. Plus, when the boy goes to school/clubs, I wanna be the one to take him where he needs to be (and he's shown a big interest in Karate. Helped by my brother-in-law, who's a blackbelt). It's necessity and not desire that has me driving ... but it's nice to know you can enjoy something you HAVE to do.
Friday 23 April 2010
My big wish
This is something I've been talking about since I was ten.
It changes a little, but the main picture is the same.
When I was a little girl (and reading Francine Pascal/Ann M Martin books) I decided I wanted to move to America. There were two girls at my school who'd moved from Michigan (their parents were working at the local car factory, which I think now just does tractors?) and another of my friends was moving to California about the same time these 2 Michiganites were moving back.
And I was jealous. I still am (Ida hated California, she sent long colourful letters saying so ... last I saw on Facebook, she went to Michigan State. So she didn't completely hate America). They were so different, even if they didn't seem that way. They fascinated me. One girl, Laura, I got on with better. I remember going to her house and having peanut butter on ritz crackers and homemade lemonade. She brought sugar cookies in for halloween in pumpkin shapes and I learned everything I know about the presidents and Thanksgiving and everything from her.
I had this grand plan. I was going to California (Not LA. Maybe Anaheim, maybe San Diego) and I'd meet some blonde haired muscled surfer guy and he'd be my boyfriend.
I've moved on since then, obviously. Muscles are gross. I prefer darker-haired guys (like Jake Gyllenhaal, Jackson Rathbone, Mark Ruffalo). Surfers are cool but I'd like him to have more going on.
And obviously, I'd need more going on than hanging around on a beach with no money or a job waiting for aforementioned surfer guy. And it doesn't have to be Cali. There's so much of America I want to see.
As it stands now - I wish my job would expand the trade-outs system it has. I could work in Hungary, or Norway, or even China if I wanted for a few months. America isn't included in the system (though our company started in America. I saw the state on some packaging the other day, but it's slipped my mind). So, this is my new grand plan:
-Train to be a teacher.
-Teach for a good couple of years.
-Apply for a transfer to an American school (for a year, for 5 years, ad infinitem)
-Get visa's sorted for me and the boy.
-Get boy into preschool/kindergarten/first grade.
-Live the American dream.
Alternatively my writing career could surprise me and take off and I'll move my millions over there, where I'll have a complex big enough for all my friends to drop in uninvited. We'll have a live in nanny, so don't worry about the boy.
I still wanna go there so bad. We go on holiday there every 12-18 months (and I try and go between times) and every time I'm there it's amazing and I love the food and the clothes and the weather and the way shop assistants say 'have a nice day' without sounding dumb and I hate, HATE getting the flight home. The only thing it has going for it is the take off. Time is different in America, the days have more potential, I can fit more in. I feel good out there, more carefree. I love the way the money works (yeah, a 40p candy bar over there costs a dollar and has a stupid name - every time I eat a dove I think of soap, not galaxy - but a £15000 car is $15000, so I can take the candy bar hit when it's $1.53 to a £1! Plus, in a slightly run down area of Orlando, on the way from our time share to Florida Mall, there are little houses that have $1 a day rent. And 24 hour day care ... this is the good thing about reading every word that comes under my nose).
The only thing is ... I'm scared to go over with no place to stay, no money, no job ... how would my tax credits work out? Would I lose them, and child benefit, and CSA? Does America have schemes like that for immigrants? I feel like beaurocracy keeps me here. That and my mother (I swear, she wishes we were italian so she'd have an excuse for wanting us all near).
But my Uncle did it. He moved to Melbourne, Australia. I would love to pick his brains on how he managed that ...
... if nothing else, when the boy moves off to uni, or for a gap year, I'm going to drive around America for as long a visa as I can get. I wanna hire an old pink Cadillac or a classic Chevy to do it in too.
It changes a little, but the main picture is the same.
When I was a little girl (and reading Francine Pascal/Ann M Martin books) I decided I wanted to move to America. There were two girls at my school who'd moved from Michigan (their parents were working at the local car factory, which I think now just does tractors?) and another of my friends was moving to California about the same time these 2 Michiganites were moving back.
And I was jealous. I still am (Ida hated California, she sent long colourful letters saying so ... last I saw on Facebook, she went to Michigan State. So she didn't completely hate America). They were so different, even if they didn't seem that way. They fascinated me. One girl, Laura, I got on with better. I remember going to her house and having peanut butter on ritz crackers and homemade lemonade. She brought sugar cookies in for halloween in pumpkin shapes and I learned everything I know about the presidents and Thanksgiving and everything from her.
I had this grand plan. I was going to California (Not LA. Maybe Anaheim, maybe San Diego) and I'd meet some blonde haired muscled surfer guy and he'd be my boyfriend.
I've moved on since then, obviously. Muscles are gross. I prefer darker-haired guys (like Jake Gyllenhaal, Jackson Rathbone, Mark Ruffalo). Surfers are cool but I'd like him to have more going on.
And obviously, I'd need more going on than hanging around on a beach with no money or a job waiting for aforementioned surfer guy. And it doesn't have to be Cali. There's so much of America I want to see.
As it stands now - I wish my job would expand the trade-outs system it has. I could work in Hungary, or Norway, or even China if I wanted for a few months. America isn't included in the system (though our company started in America. I saw the state on some packaging the other day, but it's slipped my mind). So, this is my new grand plan:
-Train to be a teacher.
-Teach for a good couple of years.
-Apply for a transfer to an American school (for a year, for 5 years, ad infinitem)
-Get visa's sorted for me and the boy.
-Get boy into preschool/kindergarten/first grade.
-Live the American dream.
Alternatively my writing career could surprise me and take off and I'll move my millions over there, where I'll have a complex big enough for all my friends to drop in uninvited. We'll have a live in nanny, so don't worry about the boy.
I still wanna go there so bad. We go on holiday there every 12-18 months (and I try and go between times) and every time I'm there it's amazing and I love the food and the clothes and the weather and the way shop assistants say 'have a nice day' without sounding dumb and I hate, HATE getting the flight home. The only thing it has going for it is the take off. Time is different in America, the days have more potential, I can fit more in. I feel good out there, more carefree. I love the way the money works (yeah, a 40p candy bar over there costs a dollar and has a stupid name - every time I eat a dove I think of soap, not galaxy - but a £15000 car is $15000, so I can take the candy bar hit when it's $1.53 to a £1! Plus, in a slightly run down area of Orlando, on the way from our time share to Florida Mall, there are little houses that have $1 a day rent. And 24 hour day care ... this is the good thing about reading every word that comes under my nose).
The only thing is ... I'm scared to go over with no place to stay, no money, no job ... how would my tax credits work out? Would I lose them, and child benefit, and CSA? Does America have schemes like that for immigrants? I feel like beaurocracy keeps me here. That and my mother (I swear, she wishes we were italian so she'd have an excuse for wanting us all near).
But my Uncle did it. He moved to Melbourne, Australia. I would love to pick his brains on how he managed that ...
... if nothing else, when the boy moves off to uni, or for a gap year, I'm going to drive around America for as long a visa as I can get. I wanna hire an old pink Cadillac or a classic Chevy to do it in too.
Le sigh
Sometimes, and I know how bad this is, but sometimes I wish I wasn't a mum.
I love my boy to pieces, and I can't spend enough time with him.
But sometimes, I'd love to go out when I want to.
Stay up all night if I want.
Go travel the world if it suits me.
Not watch my language.
Get more tattooes.
Dye my hair more often.
Leave routine behind.
I knew what I was giving up, but the last few weeks ... yeah, it's been a little hard. I wouldn't trade him for any of it, I just ... I guess I wish it was easier to have both, be a good mum and my own person.
I've gotten so emo on here lately. Lets blame my book, since Sal has absolutely no ties. Lucky guy.
I love my boy to pieces, and I can't spend enough time with him.
But sometimes, I'd love to go out when I want to.
Stay up all night if I want.
Go travel the world if it suits me.
Not watch my language.
Get more tattooes.
Dye my hair more often.
Leave routine behind.
I knew what I was giving up, but the last few weeks ... yeah, it's been a little hard. I wouldn't trade him for any of it, I just ... I guess I wish it was easier to have both, be a good mum and my own person.
I've gotten so emo on here lately. Lets blame my book, since Sal has absolutely no ties. Lucky guy.
Wednesday 21 April 2010
Go Me part 2
I actually found my copy of 'On The Road', picked it up and read a chapter. After ages of whining about maybe doing so.
It was easy to get back into. He's just basically hitch-hiking over the States. Left him in a car, probably find him in a bar, lol.
Typical man, really.
It was easy to get back into. He's just basically hitch-hiking over the States. Left him in a car, probably find him in a bar, lol.
Typical man, really.
Monday 19 April 2010
Get me.
I don't remember promising myself I'd make more of an effort to be sociable/not a hermit. But apparently lately I am?
Maybe it's an avoidance from writing, or procrastination from choosing my next book, or because the weather's getting good or I feel I need more life experience or I just realised a few days ago I should make more of an effort with the people I care most about ... but I seem to be accepting invites out/inviting myself along on trips lately.
I went to Thorpe Park yesterday, with a couple of girls from work. Last time I went was about 6 years ago, when Thorpe Park was starting to get good (I remember going at 13 and not being very impressed ... we went around the farm bit, on Loggers Leap, and spent half the day on the beach bit they have. There wasn't much else, the only other good bit then was the rapids, and they were closed) but it's gotten so much better lately.
We did all the rollercoasters we could - Stealth was shut, they kept running tests but we never saw anyone go on it, otherwise we would've been on it! Went on the saw ride twice, and colossus, and rush, and detonator, and quantum, loggers leap twice, rapids, tidal wave ... and the carousel (we're awesome!). It was gorgeous weather, but everyone else got burnt and I went a teeny bit brown. Actually, now I'm looking, I'm slightly pink so maybe I burn on a time delay?
We did one stupid thing though - we went in Saw Alive. Which is a 'maze' and you walk around, and actors dressed as dead bodies jump out at you and touch you and someone comes at you with a hook and there're body bags and gates that open out at you and it smells of rotting flesh (and my clothes still do) ... I've never been one for gore, but I'll do anything once ... I've never screamed so much in my life. Or told people doing their jobs to eff off. But ... there's a reason I don't like that sort of thing. And I was at the very back of our group, you get the last grab *shudders* it turns out, in pitch black, I don't like animated corpses touching me. Who'd have thought? Oh, and I jumped so much I've scratched up my arm. I paid in flesh Jigsaw, I paid in flesh ...
Anyway ... I'd totally do a day like that again. Minus the maze. Plus a couple more people from work?
I'm sorry I've not updated this as much as I have previously. Between a sudden social life and proof-reading the crap I've written so far, raising my kid and doing a fulltime job ... I've not had much of a chance to read/think/spend much time on my computer, unless I want to go without sleep I guess ...
Maybe it's an avoidance from writing, or procrastination from choosing my next book, or because the weather's getting good or I feel I need more life experience or I just realised a few days ago I should make more of an effort with the people I care most about ... but I seem to be accepting invites out/inviting myself along on trips lately.
I went to Thorpe Park yesterday, with a couple of girls from work. Last time I went was about 6 years ago, when Thorpe Park was starting to get good (I remember going at 13 and not being very impressed ... we went around the farm bit, on Loggers Leap, and spent half the day on the beach bit they have. There wasn't much else, the only other good bit then was the rapids, and they were closed) but it's gotten so much better lately.
We did all the rollercoasters we could - Stealth was shut, they kept running tests but we never saw anyone go on it, otherwise we would've been on it! Went on the saw ride twice, and colossus, and rush, and detonator, and quantum, loggers leap twice, rapids, tidal wave ... and the carousel (we're awesome!). It was gorgeous weather, but everyone else got burnt and I went a teeny bit brown. Actually, now I'm looking, I'm slightly pink so maybe I burn on a time delay?
We did one stupid thing though - we went in Saw Alive. Which is a 'maze' and you walk around, and actors dressed as dead bodies jump out at you and touch you and someone comes at you with a hook and there're body bags and gates that open out at you and it smells of rotting flesh (and my clothes still do) ... I've never been one for gore, but I'll do anything once ... I've never screamed so much in my life. Or told people doing their jobs to eff off. But ... there's a reason I don't like that sort of thing. And I was at the very back of our group, you get the last grab *shudders* it turns out, in pitch black, I don't like animated corpses touching me. Who'd have thought? Oh, and I jumped so much I've scratched up my arm. I paid in flesh Jigsaw, I paid in flesh ...
Anyway ... I'd totally do a day like that again. Minus the maze. Plus a couple more people from work?
I'm sorry I've not updated this as much as I have previously. Between a sudden social life and proof-reading the crap I've written so far, raising my kid and doing a fulltime job ... I've not had much of a chance to read/think/spend much time on my computer, unless I want to go without sleep I guess ...
Saturday 17 April 2010
Jodie
Continuing my 'why I love my friends' posts (they'll be intermittent, but I'll try and get through everyone) since I'm once again between books ... Jodie.
I've known Jodie for about 7/8 years now, roughly? Again from the internet. We met properly 6 years ago, at Thorpe Park - about 20 of us all went. It was the first thing I'd ever organised and I fell in love with organising trips after that ...
I thought we gelled right away. We'd always been able to talk online, but sometimes the internet is a completely different ballpark to real life. I've met friends online before and not known what to say to them, really (Starr, Stefanie, Jessica ...) but with Jodie, it was different. We kept squaring up to each other, pretend fighting, so everyone thought we hated each other, so we kept doing it to wind other people up. We went on 'X: no way out' and when we came off, there were steam jets over the path ... so we pretended we were blinded by it. We got a few odd looks off people who weren't in our group, but that's just what we're like together.
We've gone through so many things together, even though we don't live near each other (strangely, though we're probably geographically closer, I can get to our friend Cat's house in half the time it would take me to reach Jodie) - A week in Southend, various gigs, trips to London, stalking Dougie from mcfly on a train (accidentally. He happened to be going to Nottingham when we were going to Luton. We actually tried not to get on the train after him, found we were in first class, doubled back to the first cheapo seats, sat down and there he was across the aisle. Best half hour EVER), my trips from my uni to hers (especially when I started going out with her housemate. Which I blatantly only did to see her every other week), train hair, train surfing, TITWANK, mcfans, team pokage, Thunderbirds, Mcfly gigs, Back-To-Front comma's (I talk in my sleep. Jodie tells me what I say in the morning), Margarita's spilt in Chiquito's, Frankie and Benny's, Barbeque Chicken, endless talks on whether Chinese or Italian food should come second to Mexican, dud fireworks, drunken Rock Band, chocolate and New Look and the latest Me2You/My Blue Nose friend paraphenalia.
I can't imagine life without Jodie now. I don't know how I survived High School without her, or Cat, Charli and Kelly for that matter. If I have news, she's the first person I try and tell. Of all my best friends, I'm probably closest to Jodie (and here's where I find out, actually, Jodie's fond of me but wouldn't go that far, lol), not to be offensive to Kelly, Cat or Charli ... I just find I have a little more in common with Jodie. Maybe it's the age thing, since there's 7 months between me and Jodie, rather than almost 3&1/2 years like there is between me and Cat.
I just hope in ten years time, I get to say that all four girls are still my best friends.
I've known Jodie for about 7/8 years now, roughly? Again from the internet. We met properly 6 years ago, at Thorpe Park - about 20 of us all went. It was the first thing I'd ever organised and I fell in love with organising trips after that ...
I thought we gelled right away. We'd always been able to talk online, but sometimes the internet is a completely different ballpark to real life. I've met friends online before and not known what to say to them, really (Starr, Stefanie, Jessica ...) but with Jodie, it was different. We kept squaring up to each other, pretend fighting, so everyone thought we hated each other, so we kept doing it to wind other people up. We went on 'X: no way out' and when we came off, there were steam jets over the path ... so we pretended we were blinded by it. We got a few odd looks off people who weren't in our group, but that's just what we're like together.
We've gone through so many things together, even though we don't live near each other (strangely, though we're probably geographically closer, I can get to our friend Cat's house in half the time it would take me to reach Jodie) - A week in Southend, various gigs, trips to London, stalking Dougie from mcfly on a train (accidentally. He happened to be going to Nottingham when we were going to Luton. We actually tried not to get on the train after him, found we were in first class, doubled back to the first cheapo seats, sat down and there he was across the aisle. Best half hour EVER), my trips from my uni to hers (especially when I started going out with her housemate. Which I blatantly only did to see her every other week), train hair, train surfing, TITWANK, mcfans, team pokage, Thunderbirds, Mcfly gigs, Back-To-Front comma's (I talk in my sleep. Jodie tells me what I say in the morning), Margarita's spilt in Chiquito's, Frankie and Benny's, Barbeque Chicken, endless talks on whether Chinese or Italian food should come second to Mexican, dud fireworks, drunken Rock Band, chocolate and New Look and the latest Me2You/My Blue Nose friend paraphenalia.
I can't imagine life without Jodie now. I don't know how I survived High School without her, or Cat, Charli and Kelly for that matter. If I have news, she's the first person I try and tell. Of all my best friends, I'm probably closest to Jodie (and here's where I find out, actually, Jodie's fond of me but wouldn't go that far, lol), not to be offensive to Kelly, Cat or Charli ... I just find I have a little more in common with Jodie. Maybe it's the age thing, since there's 7 months between me and Jodie, rather than almost 3&1/2 years like there is between me and Cat.
I just hope in ten years time, I get to say that all four girls are still my best friends.
Thursday 15 April 2010
Telling the truth
So ... my friend in Rhode Island sends me emails all the time. I don't always send them back (bad zee!). Most of them are hilarious pictures of people who shop in WalMart, I wet myself at those emails. she finds them on a site? Every now and then, she'll send something sweet instead, like this email I got today.
I'd paste it, but obviously that doesn't work here, and I can't really motivate myself to trascribing the whole thing, but it talks of this woman, a friend of hers, looking through pictures and coming across one of her mother, post-dialysis, looking really happy as they talked. And as this woman's looking at this picture, she asks herself if she regretted anything about caring for her mother etc etc ... and she had none, because this picture centred around her letting her mother know she was loved, basically. She never had to regret the 'what if' factor.
So occasionally, I'm going to make posts. That tell the people I love that I love them. When I make these posts, I will use real names, instead of the aliases I put up ... because even if you can guess your alias, it's not as good as knowing the real thing, is it? All pretenses will be dropped.
I won't do them all together though, because I've already experienced the troubles of posting long posts.
So ... I'll start off with the girl who inspired me. Kerri.
I've known Kerri roughly four years. Obviously, given the distance, we've never met in person (I've met a handful of my American friends, and I get bashful with all of them), but I wish I had. Every Christmas we swap cards - hers are always hilarious.
She reminds me of everything good about America. She's caring and passionate (and yes, nationalistic) but she's funny in a way people forget. Americans do irony well, and Kerri can be a prime example of that. We met on a message board, and a lot of the kids on there were pretty juvenile (mainly a Canadian girl, an Australian girl and a couple of New Zealanders. Though we still loved them ... it's a little complicated) and I think at first Kerri's humour was lost on them - they thought she was serious and boring, when she was teasing them all along.
I can't remember my first impression of Kerri. I remember her growing on me more, she was always trying to sort out issues (which happens a lot when you have strong personalities come together, like we did on that board) and play peacemaker and motherhen. Before I left that board (not through choice, it was part of a rubbish fan club and my subscription ended) I think we all came to think of her as our online mother.
It's weird, because there's only two girls I've kept in touch with after that, Kerri and Martha. Martha's on my facebook, but Kerri's in a certain position workwise, so she won't go on facebook. It was hard enough getting her to open up on the board, and harder to get her on myspace. But when you crack that little nut ... she's gold.
I just wish I saw her, talked to her more often. God, I'm a rubbish friend ...
I'd paste it, but obviously that doesn't work here, and I can't really motivate myself to trascribing the whole thing, but it talks of this woman, a friend of hers, looking through pictures and coming across one of her mother, post-dialysis, looking really happy as they talked. And as this woman's looking at this picture, she asks herself if she regretted anything about caring for her mother etc etc ... and she had none, because this picture centred around her letting her mother know she was loved, basically. She never had to regret the 'what if' factor.
So occasionally, I'm going to make posts. That tell the people I love that I love them. When I make these posts, I will use real names, instead of the aliases I put up ... because even if you can guess your alias, it's not as good as knowing the real thing, is it? All pretenses will be dropped.
I won't do them all together though, because I've already experienced the troubles of posting long posts.
So ... I'll start off with the girl who inspired me. Kerri.
I've known Kerri roughly four years. Obviously, given the distance, we've never met in person (I've met a handful of my American friends, and I get bashful with all of them), but I wish I had. Every Christmas we swap cards - hers are always hilarious.
She reminds me of everything good about America. She's caring and passionate (and yes, nationalistic) but she's funny in a way people forget. Americans do irony well, and Kerri can be a prime example of that. We met on a message board, and a lot of the kids on there were pretty juvenile (mainly a Canadian girl, an Australian girl and a couple of New Zealanders. Though we still loved them ... it's a little complicated) and I think at first Kerri's humour was lost on them - they thought she was serious and boring, when she was teasing them all along.
I can't remember my first impression of Kerri. I remember her growing on me more, she was always trying to sort out issues (which happens a lot when you have strong personalities come together, like we did on that board) and play peacemaker and motherhen. Before I left that board (not through choice, it was part of a rubbish fan club and my subscription ended) I think we all came to think of her as our online mother.
It's weird, because there's only two girls I've kept in touch with after that, Kerri and Martha. Martha's on my facebook, but Kerri's in a certain position workwise, so she won't go on facebook. It was hard enough getting her to open up on the board, and harder to get her on myspace. But when you crack that little nut ... she's gold.
I just wish I saw her, talked to her more often. God, I'm a rubbish friend ...
Wednesday 14 April 2010
What's going on?
Why is everything shit right now? I don't normally moan and bitch, but I've had 2 days without a break at work, my son's decided his bedtime's when it gets dark, and my computer's barely working atm. My skin's breaking out and I feel like crap ... can tomorrow please not be this shit? Thanks.
Sunday 11 April 2010
Phillip Pullman and other ramblings
First of all, sorry for yesterday's post. I wanted to talk more on plotlines and such, and I had this whole spiel in my head when I thought of making the post yesterday, but that was when I was in the car halfway through a 2 hour car journey. 10 hours is a long enough time for me to forget the essence of what was in my head (ten hours being both journey's, time spent at destination, time spent at home getting my rugrat to bed). I also realised, looking back, that there were only three days between me saying I'd picked up and read a chapter, and me saying 'I finally finished it'.
I think what I'd meant was that for what it was, it dragged out so much, that it felt like a challenge to read. Honestly, when I was packing for the trip yesterday, I had at least a third of the book, which made it look longer than Dorian Gray to read. I didn't think I'd need another book. It was a long journey after I'd finished, until I remembered I'd also brought my ipod.
It doesn't matter that I normally devour books ... and anyway, in the last 4 days, I've been to the beach, been to my 6-monthly-which-is-now-annually (yay!) hospital trip at UCLH (hungover too ... first time, and hangovers do not mix with trains), visited the zoo with my boy, been to three seperate parties (the first causing said hangover. It wasn't so much I'd drank a lot, but that I'd been the first one to agree to drinking this nasty concoction. Whatever was in that drink ... urgh, never trusting that guy again!) ... but you know what? I miss my books. I was bad today in that I was reading through the party, but since my boy would not sleep in his own bed and insisted on napping on my lap ... well, I had to entertain myself through that/the football, right?
So I read The Good Man Jesus And The Scoundrel Christ. It's got a lot of publicity for being blasphemous, but in all honesty, I thought His Dark Materials were much more so.
His writing is, as always, impeccable. I can't flaw him for characterisation or plotlines. His pace might be a little questionable, but when it comes to the crux of the storyline, the climax ... it becomes evident as to why he might have taken his time to set up.
I don't want to say too much on here, since it's a new book, and I'd rather not reveal plotlines of books I want people to read (yeah, you should totally read it). But he gets a good rhythm, like he's writing a bible story, but he adds some colloquialisms (did I make that up?) and uses more modern words to familiarise the reader. He added some interesting twists to the storyline, some of which I thought were plausible, some I didn't but made some sense from his angle.
Basically, he's split Jesus Christ into two people - twins. Jesus was loud and abrasive, and his brother, whose name's never mentioned, except for Mary's pet name, Christ, was quiet and studious. It resonated with me, I think, because I do know a fair few sets of twins, and there tends to be that sort of balance between them. One of them did the preaching, the other wrote the lessons down for an angel that kept visiting. He included some of the parables, and one of them, the Prodical Son, was meant to be based on the twins themselves. I'm not going to say much more than that - except I got this feeling after a while, and when I got to the end, I was right about what happened. And it's got me thinking of the actual bible, and whether that idea resonates throught the pages. Because there was a marked difference between certain stages in Jesus' life ... the twin thesis would fit for me. But Pullman was clever, because he doesn't blaspheme, whatever smoke-and-mirrors he portrays, he makes evident is for 'The Greater Good' (to steal a phrase from J.K.Rowling). It's really got me thinking anyhow.
In His Dark Materials, btw, everyone's soul is portrayed by an animal, called a daemon (if you've seen the Golden Compass, that's based on most of the first book, missing out when Asriel walked into the city in the clouds. They must have known it wouldn't be popular enough for the sequels, which is a shame because although the first half of Northern Lights does drag, when it kicks off it doesn't stop until the very end of The Amber Spyglass). One character, Lord Asriel, discovers a way of travelling between co-existing worlds, and after a while, he decides to take on the least known world of all - Heaven. But Heaven turns out to be a battleship hidden in clouds, and God is a frail being encased in glass - everything's ruled by the Metatron (I've watched Dogma, lol, the voice of God if you haven't heard of him before). God accidentally gets released and turns into vapour when he leaves the box, and Asriel and his wife take on the Metatron with their deamons and fall into this huge, never ending crevass ... basically they removed all deities so their daughter and her boyfriend could recreate Original Sin (in the form of a kiss).
Now is that not far more blasphemous than twins? Or have I lost you all in my mish-mashed attempt of showing my knowledge of the inner workings of religion and how they apply to Pullman's work?
I think what I'd meant was that for what it was, it dragged out so much, that it felt like a challenge to read. Honestly, when I was packing for the trip yesterday, I had at least a third of the book, which made it look longer than Dorian Gray to read. I didn't think I'd need another book. It was a long journey after I'd finished, until I remembered I'd also brought my ipod.
It doesn't matter that I normally devour books ... and anyway, in the last 4 days, I've been to the beach, been to my 6-monthly-which-is-now-annually (yay!) hospital trip at UCLH (hungover too ... first time, and hangovers do not mix with trains), visited the zoo with my boy, been to three seperate parties (the first causing said hangover. It wasn't so much I'd drank a lot, but that I'd been the first one to agree to drinking this nasty concoction. Whatever was in that drink ... urgh, never trusting that guy again!) ... but you know what? I miss my books. I was bad today in that I was reading through the party, but since my boy would not sleep in his own bed and insisted on napping on my lap ... well, I had to entertain myself through that/the football, right?
So I read The Good Man Jesus And The Scoundrel Christ. It's got a lot of publicity for being blasphemous, but in all honesty, I thought His Dark Materials were much more so.
His writing is, as always, impeccable. I can't flaw him for characterisation or plotlines. His pace might be a little questionable, but when it comes to the crux of the storyline, the climax ... it becomes evident as to why he might have taken his time to set up.
I don't want to say too much on here, since it's a new book, and I'd rather not reveal plotlines of books I want people to read (yeah, you should totally read it). But he gets a good rhythm, like he's writing a bible story, but he adds some colloquialisms (did I make that up?) and uses more modern words to familiarise the reader. He added some interesting twists to the storyline, some of which I thought were plausible, some I didn't but made some sense from his angle.
Basically, he's split Jesus Christ into two people - twins. Jesus was loud and abrasive, and his brother, whose name's never mentioned, except for Mary's pet name, Christ, was quiet and studious. It resonated with me, I think, because I do know a fair few sets of twins, and there tends to be that sort of balance between them. One of them did the preaching, the other wrote the lessons down for an angel that kept visiting. He included some of the parables, and one of them, the Prodical Son, was meant to be based on the twins themselves. I'm not going to say much more than that - except I got this feeling after a while, and when I got to the end, I was right about what happened. And it's got me thinking of the actual bible, and whether that idea resonates throught the pages. Because there was a marked difference between certain stages in Jesus' life ... the twin thesis would fit for me. But Pullman was clever, because he doesn't blaspheme, whatever smoke-and-mirrors he portrays, he makes evident is for 'The Greater Good' (to steal a phrase from J.K.Rowling). It's really got me thinking anyhow.
In His Dark Materials, btw, everyone's soul is portrayed by an animal, called a daemon (if you've seen the Golden Compass, that's based on most of the first book, missing out when Asriel walked into the city in the clouds. They must have known it wouldn't be popular enough for the sequels, which is a shame because although the first half of Northern Lights does drag, when it kicks off it doesn't stop until the very end of The Amber Spyglass). One character, Lord Asriel, discovers a way of travelling between co-existing worlds, and after a while, he decides to take on the least known world of all - Heaven. But Heaven turns out to be a battleship hidden in clouds, and God is a frail being encased in glass - everything's ruled by the Metatron (I've watched Dogma, lol, the voice of God if you haven't heard of him before). God accidentally gets released and turns into vapour when he leaves the box, and Asriel and his wife take on the Metatron with their deamons and fall into this huge, never ending crevass ... basically they removed all deities so their daughter and her boyfriend could recreate Original Sin (in the form of a kiss).
Now is that not far more blasphemous than twins? Or have I lost you all in my mish-mashed attempt of showing my knowledge of the inner workings of religion and how they apply to Pullman's work?
Saturday 10 April 2010
Twists and turns
Yeah, I finally finished 'Dreaming Of Amelia'.
Hmmm ... I liked that the kids in the book seemed to act like 17 year olds, Jaclyn got that right, but ...
... you know when you're reading something, and something feels forced? Like, the author's realised maybe the story's going nowhere, or there isn't enough excitement in the book? Or they've been ambling along for 400 pages and realised they have to get this all down on paper and the last ten pages are crammed full of action, at the expense of accuracy?
That's DOA. I can't place my finger quite on what was off about it. A lot of characters were over-the-top, which made a good guise for a shoddy plot twist. But it makes it hard to choose what unsettles me about the writer.
And she wrote with an agenda, like I hate. Part of it was the whole 'leaving school, going to uni, saying goodbye to childhood' sort of things, like 'you'll be okay in the real world!' blahblahblah. Part of it was 'I heard this brilliant story about a local place, I'm going to write it down and thread it into my fiction. You're going to love the history lecture. In fact, you'll love it so much, I'll make the characters randomly time travel at the end'.
I think, if the idea had been executed in another style, in third person maybe, without the juvenile tint to the wording, it would've been a good book. The second message would have worked in an almost Donnie Darko sort of way. But it didn't so it wasn't.
And now I'm back to picking a book. Or writing mine, lol.
I need to work on my synopsis. God it's effing hard.
Hmmm ... I liked that the kids in the book seemed to act like 17 year olds, Jaclyn got that right, but ...
... you know when you're reading something, and something feels forced? Like, the author's realised maybe the story's going nowhere, or there isn't enough excitement in the book? Or they've been ambling along for 400 pages and realised they have to get this all down on paper and the last ten pages are crammed full of action, at the expense of accuracy?
That's DOA. I can't place my finger quite on what was off about it. A lot of characters were over-the-top, which made a good guise for a shoddy plot twist. But it makes it hard to choose what unsettles me about the writer.
And she wrote with an agenda, like I hate. Part of it was the whole 'leaving school, going to uni, saying goodbye to childhood' sort of things, like 'you'll be okay in the real world!' blahblahblah. Part of it was 'I heard this brilliant story about a local place, I'm going to write it down and thread it into my fiction. You're going to love the history lecture. In fact, you'll love it so much, I'll make the characters randomly time travel at the end'.
I think, if the idea had been executed in another style, in third person maybe, without the juvenile tint to the wording, it would've been a good book. The second message would have worked in an almost Donnie Darko sort of way. But it didn't so it wasn't.
And now I'm back to picking a book. Or writing mine, lol.
I need to work on my synopsis. God it's effing hard.
Wednesday 7 April 2010
Suggestions?
So, after finishing 'Crazy in love' I started reading a book I just got, 'Dreaming of Amelia' about a ghost or something? But it's not really very good, so does anyone have any book suggestions? Or any topic they want to see me cover on here?
Or, if you're stuck for ideas, pick on of the list at the end of this blog for me to read next, and I'll r&r it. Burned isn't out for another few weeks. The next book in the Private series has another month. I need more material, lol.
In other news - finished the first rough draft of Budding last night. The last chapter's crap, but I'm giving it a rest and typing up some stuff written in notebooks/on my laptop in third person. I'll go back to it in a week and edit, then send it to whoever wants to proof-read/Cassie and Joanne.
The options I have to read at the moment (starred books I've read a little of already):
The Good Man Jesus And The Scoundrel Christ - Phillip Pullman
Revenge - Sharon Osbourne
On The Road - Jack Kerouac*
Dreaming of Amelia - Jaclyn Moriarty*
This Bleeding City - Alex Preston
Dracula - Bram Stoker*
The Girl Who Could Fly - Victoria Forester
City of Ashes/Glass/Bones - Cassandra Clare
The Host - Stefenie Meyer
Or, if you're stuck for ideas, pick on of the list at the end of this blog for me to read next, and I'll r&r it. Burned isn't out for another few weeks. The next book in the Private series has another month. I need more material, lol.
In other news - finished the first rough draft of Budding last night. The last chapter's crap, but I'm giving it a rest and typing up some stuff written in notebooks/on my laptop in third person. I'll go back to it in a week and edit, then send it to whoever wants to proof-read/Cassie and Joanne.
The options I have to read at the moment (starred books I've read a little of already):
The Good Man Jesus And The Scoundrel Christ - Phillip Pullman
Revenge - Sharon Osbourne
On The Road - Jack Kerouac*
Dreaming of Amelia - Jaclyn Moriarty*
This Bleeding City - Alex Preston
Dracula - Bram Stoker*
The Girl Who Could Fly - Victoria Forester
City of Ashes/Glass/Bones - Cassandra Clare
The Host - Stefenie Meyer
Chris Manby? Chrissie Manby?
I read a Chris Manby once, when I was big on chick-lit. It was called 'Second Chance' and was the first book I remember being really critical of in the genre. Which is surprising, since I'm clearly very critical.
It's just, this girl was obsessed with getting this rich guy. And he was obviously a prick. And she got forced to live with this guy who was normal, so of course she was destined to be with him once the prick had finished shattering all her self esteem and she actually bought a clue. But she had to be embarrassed by her shoddy horse-riding and be burnt by the other bird he was stringing along (literally, she poured coffee over her) first.
Throughout the whole book I could see where Chris Manby was taking it and thought it was strung out far too long.
But anyway, I saw this other book recently, 'crazy in love' by Chrissie Manby. I didn't think there would be any difference really, but the plotline intrigued me. So I got it (on sale, obviously) and read it yesterday.
And hmmm. It's not the same writer - Chris was writing between Pembrokeshire and London. Chrissie is blatantly American.
The book was about a socialite who falls for a TV star and tries to date him. His agent persuades him it's good publicity, but eventually he gets sick of her - especially when she tries to force him to marry her - and she tries everything, and I mean everything to get him back. So she decides to do one of those thrill-seeking things where you pay to be kidnapped ... but gets kidnapped for real, with her gardener. And they escape and spend a couple of weeks trekking through forest and up hills and miraculously in this time she goes from airhead to ecowarrior. Sure.
It was well written. I mean, I thought the socialite was vapid, and one of those people who'll appropriate blame to anyone but themselves, but it does become clear that the writer's aware of that and does poke fun at her. I just ... it didn't have a believability at the end. She was writing with an agenda, like 'hey, you can love labels and protect the environment! You can be eco-friendly without smelling like crap and making no effort! OMG!' ... I hate when writers force their agendas down your throat like it. There was another writer who did it too - I'm not thinking of Stefenie Meyer, despite the whole sex-before-marriage thing, I mean they did this whole speech at the end of the book that's meant to be an epiphany but just ended up a soapbox - anyway, it flipping annoys me. Bury your agenda in metaphors and character actions, geez!
It's just, this girl was obsessed with getting this rich guy. And he was obviously a prick. And she got forced to live with this guy who was normal, so of course she was destined to be with him once the prick had finished shattering all her self esteem and she actually bought a clue. But she had to be embarrassed by her shoddy horse-riding and be burnt by the other bird he was stringing along (literally, she poured coffee over her) first.
Throughout the whole book I could see where Chris Manby was taking it and thought it was strung out far too long.
But anyway, I saw this other book recently, 'crazy in love' by Chrissie Manby. I didn't think there would be any difference really, but the plotline intrigued me. So I got it (on sale, obviously) and read it yesterday.
And hmmm. It's not the same writer - Chris was writing between Pembrokeshire and London. Chrissie is blatantly American.
The book was about a socialite who falls for a TV star and tries to date him. His agent persuades him it's good publicity, but eventually he gets sick of her - especially when she tries to force him to marry her - and she tries everything, and I mean everything to get him back. So she decides to do one of those thrill-seeking things where you pay to be kidnapped ... but gets kidnapped for real, with her gardener. And they escape and spend a couple of weeks trekking through forest and up hills and miraculously in this time she goes from airhead to ecowarrior. Sure.
It was well written. I mean, I thought the socialite was vapid, and one of those people who'll appropriate blame to anyone but themselves, but it does become clear that the writer's aware of that and does poke fun at her. I just ... it didn't have a believability at the end. She was writing with an agenda, like 'hey, you can love labels and protect the environment! You can be eco-friendly without smelling like crap and making no effort! OMG!' ... I hate when writers force their agendas down your throat like it. There was another writer who did it too - I'm not thinking of Stefenie Meyer, despite the whole sex-before-marriage thing, I mean they did this whole speech at the end of the book that's meant to be an epiphany but just ended up a soapbox - anyway, it flipping annoys me. Bury your agenda in metaphors and character actions, geez!
Monday 5 April 2010
Still tired, still awake
Watching Celebrity 4 Weddings on sky plus and writing the last few pages of Budding. And playing games on facebook (thanks to my friend Mel, who sent me a link to a damn addictive game).
Yeah, I wanted to post something today, and I can't for the life of me remember what. I think it's time for me to read fluff. Not as bad as Lindsey Kelk, but maybe Sharon Osbourne or Sophie Kinsella again. Or a couple of other rom-com chick-lit I have scattered about that I'm yet to read.
This is the bit I hate about books. When reading, I'm absorbed. With a good book, I'll be desperate for the end, not for it to be over, but so I know the entire story. But when it's over, when I have to choose the next book, that's the hardest bit. I have so many options. My mood over the next few days depends entirely on this selection. And whether my brother refunds my ice cream he stole, knowing it was mine ... sick of him doing that. Sick of him to be honest. But that's a whole other entry. Or series of entries.
Yeah, I wanted to post something today, and I can't for the life of me remember what. I think it's time for me to read fluff. Not as bad as Lindsey Kelk, but maybe Sharon Osbourne or Sophie Kinsella again. Or a couple of other rom-com chick-lit I have scattered about that I'm yet to read.
This is the bit I hate about books. When reading, I'm absorbed. With a good book, I'll be desperate for the end, not for it to be over, but so I know the entire story. But when it's over, when I have to choose the next book, that's the hardest bit. I have so many options. My mood over the next few days depends entirely on this selection. And whether my brother refunds my ice cream he stole, knowing it was mine ... sick of him doing that. Sick of him to be honest. But that's a whole other entry. Or series of entries.
Life imitating art
I wanted to post this the other day but blogspot had a load of error messages whatever I clicked.
And I put it on twitter but it seems to have baffled Joanne, so I'll explain more thoroughly here.
At university, during my second (and best) year, we had a seminar on the influence of life on art or art on life (apt, don't you think, after my reading Dorian Gray recently? His life ruined an art piece, but the art got its own back in his death). It was interesting, because an artist/musician/actor/writer will draw on life experiences to write what they know (or not, Stefenie Meyer) and will use whatever they can to create a sense of reality in their work. There is gun crime in London for example, but when Billie Jackson pulled one out people worried that gun crime being fictionalised for the soap opera would influence others involvement with firearms. There's a constant, constant debate on the effects of rap music or death metal on gang culture and school shottings (But as John Cusack says in High Fidelity, and I paraphrase from imdb 'What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?' touche.) but those songs are written based on a singers experience, first or secondhand as it may be.
I am going somewhere with this. My own writing. I spent months and months and pages and pages and notebook after notebook and onenote on my laptop going through characterisations and relationships etc before considering the plotline and the effects those plots would have on characters.
At one point, I named a character a certain name. This was about four years ago, maybe five ... my son has the same name. I think I've accidentally blogged it on another entry. Anyway, the fictional version has a best friend with an equally unusual name (I took if from that film, Along Came Polly, Ben Stiller and Jennifer Aniston). My son, a few days ago, had a playdate with a kid with this same name. I met him yesterday too, and they played together again then (our vicar's son ... coincidentally, this boy and my son have biblical names ... don't you just love a coincidence?) ... wouldn't it be so weird if they became like, best friends? I mean, neither of them look anything like the characters in my head (if my son was African American, maybe ...) but still. Weirdness. Now, if I ever got published, it would be art imitating life, rather than the other way around. Does that spark further debate? I'm starting to get tired?
And I put it on twitter but it seems to have baffled Joanne, so I'll explain more thoroughly here.
At university, during my second (and best) year, we had a seminar on the influence of life on art or art on life (apt, don't you think, after my reading Dorian Gray recently? His life ruined an art piece, but the art got its own back in his death). It was interesting, because an artist/musician/actor/writer will draw on life experiences to write what they know (or not, Stefenie Meyer) and will use whatever they can to create a sense of reality in their work. There is gun crime in London for example, but when Billie Jackson pulled one out people worried that gun crime being fictionalised for the soap opera would influence others involvement with firearms. There's a constant, constant debate on the effects of rap music or death metal on gang culture and school shottings (But as John Cusack says in High Fidelity, and I paraphrase from imdb 'What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?' touche.) but those songs are written based on a singers experience, first or secondhand as it may be.
I am going somewhere with this. My own writing. I spent months and months and pages and pages and notebook after notebook and onenote on my laptop going through characterisations and relationships etc before considering the plotline and the effects those plots would have on characters.
At one point, I named a character a certain name. This was about four years ago, maybe five ... my son has the same name. I think I've accidentally blogged it on another entry. Anyway, the fictional version has a best friend with an equally unusual name (I took if from that film, Along Came Polly, Ben Stiller and Jennifer Aniston). My son, a few days ago, had a playdate with a kid with this same name. I met him yesterday too, and they played together again then (our vicar's son ... coincidentally, this boy and my son have biblical names ... don't you just love a coincidence?) ... wouldn't it be so weird if they became like, best friends? I mean, neither of them look anything like the characters in my head (if my son was African American, maybe ...) but still. Weirdness. Now, if I ever got published, it would be art imitating life, rather than the other way around. Does that spark further debate? I'm starting to get tired?
Society's hierachy
I am blatantly stealing the title from another blog I read ... I just want to expand on what she was saying, put my own spin on it.
Basically, what my blogger friend said, was that she'd watched girls at a shopping mall nearby, and seen hints of what was talked about in 'Queen Bee's And Wannabe's', the book that formed the basis for Mean Girls (there's a similar book, 8 Simple Rules For Dating My Teenage Daughter, which spawned the TV series ... it's more about how teenage girls are and parental techniques than eight simple dating points).
I'll preface by saying, I have and dislike both books. Not because I don't believe in society having a hierachical structure, I think hierachys work far better than communes, or because the theories weren't supported by experience, but ... there was an element of disbelief in both books, which are meant to be factual/self-help books (oh, more on those at a later date). The ideas were concrete, sure, but they seemed slightly exaggerated. I very much doubt a 12 year-old would put so much thought into their vindictiveness in order to be the top of their social circle.
Anyway, I agree with what Lizzy said, that you can watch a group of girls and easily identify the girl who they consider Queen Bee, from the way she holds herself, the touch of condescension in her expression when she talks to the others, either about each other or some innocent bystander. You can tell the WannaBe from the way she watches the Queen Bee, the way she imitates the styles of clothes, the posture and facial expressions (only altered by the lack of confidence that she has it right). You can tell the Hanger On, the bottom of the food chain that they keep around to humiliate to feel better themselves, by her lack of eye contact, the slight deviation in trends from the rest of the group, the bad posture, the eyes that sometimes wonder.
But I think it goes deeper than just the small social groups. I think that's the tip of the iceburg.
Take my high school, which I've mentioned briefly before. It was a selective school, true. It was also single sex, which means we could have up to 26 males in our school (in the sixth form. The most I ever saw was 7 in my year, which dwindled to 4 by Upper Sixth) before we're considered a mixed school. There was such a complicated hierachy in just one year, just 130 girls.
Because at first, we all split into our respective groups. Some were bigger, something like 10 girls in a group, some were smaller, in pairs or threes. We all had our hierachies within our groups (I was the bottom feeder. My group was made up of all the girls who were rejected by the other groups, and I think I resented that we were friends of convenience rather than anything else more than the other girls did. Therefore, I was the lowest of the low) but there were larger hierachies too. Some groups were more popular than others, and the popular groups in each class seemed to be friends with the other popular groups, so really, we had 50 girls competing for the top spot.
But there were two girls, who were part of the Bible Bashing group, who were the most popular. They didn't have designer labels or a snooty manner or put anyone down. One of them was great at drama, and became Head Girl when we entered year 13. She competed against all those Queen Bees and WannaBe's and it was a complete cake walk. The other girl, who was also pretty much the smartest girl in our year (which evidently makes her a superbrain, since we were all intelligent. I think she went to an Oxbridge, one of the 6 girls in our year who did) was pretty quiet and self-reliant, but ... one of the younger years started creating fires, and she was almost framed for it, since she was the last person known to be in the place the worst fire started. As soon as we were told there was almost a riot to protect her, even the Head said she'd trust her with her life ... it was almost life affirming to know that there were girls like her out there, that had that absolute trust (and trust is a great power) and never corrupted it. I think they caught the arsonist, after the 7th/8th time? But that was after I left.
Anyway, it was something I noticed even all those years ago, that it wasn't the snooty girls who had the real power. In one class, where none of my friends were (bus or class ... and I liked my bus friends infinitely better so of course we barely saw each other in school), I used to sit near some of the WannaBe's and they were so poisonous ... but even they couldn't touch girls like the two mentioned in the last paragraph. When you have power and no enemies ... that's when you're a real Queen Bee.
It's interesting to note, though, that in most social situations, I would consider myself an outsider. I just don't have the same interests - while most work friends are at the pub or a club, drinking their wages away, I'm content to sit and read or write or play with my son. My wages go on him, lol. However ... there is one situation where I'm part of a clique, and that throws me.
It's on a website. One most of my follower list will know well, since we met around 7/8 years ago on there (at least, I met them, some already knew each other from other websites. I knew a couple from yet another site. It's complicated to explain, but it makes sense to us. All these sites were shutting down and we created our own one and amalgamated, in laments terms). At first, there were loads of us, and we openly became cliques, and everyone was fine with that. Some had names, like Team Pokage and The Muskateers (I was TP, not TM, lol) and some you knew the members by nicknames. There were cross-overs too, of course - I would go on late at night and joke with the more sarcastic members, from Portsmouth and Denmark, and by day I'd talk to my cliques.
Anyway, there was a power struggle between one clique, not mine, but the one involving the girl who had created the board, and stupid things started happening - you couldn't see the board unless you logged in, you couldn't join unless you contacted the admin. You couldn't contact them unless you could see the board. We were closed for members. But people started drifting away ... cliques broke up ... and one of the ones I was in remained, grew stronger. Of us all, we probably live closer. We're the first ones to stand up and say 'I wanna see you guys!' ... figuratively of course. Some people moaned we only met in the Southern end of the country, so we moved it North ... and it was still us. But everyone now complains about our clique, and sometimes it gets annoying, to the point where we have to defend everything. But I guess it would seem a little bitchy to an outsider where we're saying 'we made the effort every time, it's not our fault so-and-so left, we're not going to stop being so close to make you feel better' blahblahblah. Those are really cliquey things to say, I know, but at the same time ... why do we have to defend the fact our friendship is that strong?
Could I really break down our group into the 4 positions mentioned in Queen Bee's And Wannabes? Queen Bee, WannaBe, Bottom Feeder, Alsoran? I don't think so. At one time, it could have been argued I saw myself as QB, since I don't shut up, I'm forthright with mine (or others) ideas, I'm quite stalwart so I'm rubbish to argue against (and I've said things I regret ... mentioning a certain cosmetic surgery to someone, no matter how irritating, was way below the belt. I knew it as I said it, but I was almost blind with anger, I couldn't stop myself ... excuse, not a request for a pardon) ... but not so much now. Not since I had the boy. I'd like to think I've mellowed (okay, okay, the CS retort was post TTP, pre-op ... but she was saying things I couldn't handle. I can't deal with people mentioning suicide since the TTP ... especially if they've been in life-threatening situations before. Value life, Goddammit!) ... in all honesty, if I had to pick our Queen Bee, I'd say it was Cassie. For all the same reasons we picked our head girl in school, or defended the girl who by the book was the biggest suspect for arson. She's such a wonderful person, so sunny and full of life ... and okay, she makes bitchy comments sometimes, but with a ring of sarcasm, so you know she probably doesn't mean it ... and if she does it's deserved.
I think I've gone off in a tangent. I just think it's an interesting concept, the female hierachy. Especially when you can have several roles in different groups all at once. Anyone else want to add their two cents to the hypothesis?
Basically, what my blogger friend said, was that she'd watched girls at a shopping mall nearby, and seen hints of what was talked about in 'Queen Bee's And Wannabe's', the book that formed the basis for Mean Girls (there's a similar book, 8 Simple Rules For Dating My Teenage Daughter, which spawned the TV series ... it's more about how teenage girls are and parental techniques than eight simple dating points).
I'll preface by saying, I have and dislike both books. Not because I don't believe in society having a hierachical structure, I think hierachys work far better than communes, or because the theories weren't supported by experience, but ... there was an element of disbelief in both books, which are meant to be factual/self-help books (oh, more on those at a later date). The ideas were concrete, sure, but they seemed slightly exaggerated. I very much doubt a 12 year-old would put so much thought into their vindictiveness in order to be the top of their social circle.
Anyway, I agree with what Lizzy said, that you can watch a group of girls and easily identify the girl who they consider Queen Bee, from the way she holds herself, the touch of condescension in her expression when she talks to the others, either about each other or some innocent bystander. You can tell the WannaBe from the way she watches the Queen Bee, the way she imitates the styles of clothes, the posture and facial expressions (only altered by the lack of confidence that she has it right). You can tell the Hanger On, the bottom of the food chain that they keep around to humiliate to feel better themselves, by her lack of eye contact, the slight deviation in trends from the rest of the group, the bad posture, the eyes that sometimes wonder.
But I think it goes deeper than just the small social groups. I think that's the tip of the iceburg.
Take my high school, which I've mentioned briefly before. It was a selective school, true. It was also single sex, which means we could have up to 26 males in our school (in the sixth form. The most I ever saw was 7 in my year, which dwindled to 4 by Upper Sixth) before we're considered a mixed school. There was such a complicated hierachy in just one year, just 130 girls.
Because at first, we all split into our respective groups. Some were bigger, something like 10 girls in a group, some were smaller, in pairs or threes. We all had our hierachies within our groups (I was the bottom feeder. My group was made up of all the girls who were rejected by the other groups, and I think I resented that we were friends of convenience rather than anything else more than the other girls did. Therefore, I was the lowest of the low) but there were larger hierachies too. Some groups were more popular than others, and the popular groups in each class seemed to be friends with the other popular groups, so really, we had 50 girls competing for the top spot.
But there were two girls, who were part of the Bible Bashing group, who were the most popular. They didn't have designer labels or a snooty manner or put anyone down. One of them was great at drama, and became Head Girl when we entered year 13. She competed against all those Queen Bees and WannaBe's and it was a complete cake walk. The other girl, who was also pretty much the smartest girl in our year (which evidently makes her a superbrain, since we were all intelligent. I think she went to an Oxbridge, one of the 6 girls in our year who did) was pretty quiet and self-reliant, but ... one of the younger years started creating fires, and she was almost framed for it, since she was the last person known to be in the place the worst fire started. As soon as we were told there was almost a riot to protect her, even the Head said she'd trust her with her life ... it was almost life affirming to know that there were girls like her out there, that had that absolute trust (and trust is a great power) and never corrupted it. I think they caught the arsonist, after the 7th/8th time? But that was after I left.
Anyway, it was something I noticed even all those years ago, that it wasn't the snooty girls who had the real power. In one class, where none of my friends were (bus or class ... and I liked my bus friends infinitely better so of course we barely saw each other in school), I used to sit near some of the WannaBe's and they were so poisonous ... but even they couldn't touch girls like the two mentioned in the last paragraph. When you have power and no enemies ... that's when you're a real Queen Bee.
It's interesting to note, though, that in most social situations, I would consider myself an outsider. I just don't have the same interests - while most work friends are at the pub or a club, drinking their wages away, I'm content to sit and read or write or play with my son. My wages go on him, lol. However ... there is one situation where I'm part of a clique, and that throws me.
It's on a website. One most of my follower list will know well, since we met around 7/8 years ago on there (at least, I met them, some already knew each other from other websites. I knew a couple from yet another site. It's complicated to explain, but it makes sense to us. All these sites were shutting down and we created our own one and amalgamated, in laments terms). At first, there were loads of us, and we openly became cliques, and everyone was fine with that. Some had names, like Team Pokage and The Muskateers (I was TP, not TM, lol) and some you knew the members by nicknames. There were cross-overs too, of course - I would go on late at night and joke with the more sarcastic members, from Portsmouth and Denmark, and by day I'd talk to my cliques.
Anyway, there was a power struggle between one clique, not mine, but the one involving the girl who had created the board, and stupid things started happening - you couldn't see the board unless you logged in, you couldn't join unless you contacted the admin. You couldn't contact them unless you could see the board. We were closed for members. But people started drifting away ... cliques broke up ... and one of the ones I was in remained, grew stronger. Of us all, we probably live closer. We're the first ones to stand up and say 'I wanna see you guys!' ... figuratively of course. Some people moaned we only met in the Southern end of the country, so we moved it North ... and it was still us. But everyone now complains about our clique, and sometimes it gets annoying, to the point where we have to defend everything. But I guess it would seem a little bitchy to an outsider where we're saying 'we made the effort every time, it's not our fault so-and-so left, we're not going to stop being so close to make you feel better' blahblahblah. Those are really cliquey things to say, I know, but at the same time ... why do we have to defend the fact our friendship is that strong?
Could I really break down our group into the 4 positions mentioned in Queen Bee's And Wannabes? Queen Bee, WannaBe, Bottom Feeder, Alsoran? I don't think so. At one time, it could have been argued I saw myself as QB, since I don't shut up, I'm forthright with mine (or others) ideas, I'm quite stalwart so I'm rubbish to argue against (and I've said things I regret ... mentioning a certain cosmetic surgery to someone, no matter how irritating, was way below the belt. I knew it as I said it, but I was almost blind with anger, I couldn't stop myself ... excuse, not a request for a pardon) ... but not so much now. Not since I had the boy. I'd like to think I've mellowed (okay, okay, the CS retort was post TTP, pre-op ... but she was saying things I couldn't handle. I can't deal with people mentioning suicide since the TTP ... especially if they've been in life-threatening situations before. Value life, Goddammit!) ... in all honesty, if I had to pick our Queen Bee, I'd say it was Cassie. For all the same reasons we picked our head girl in school, or defended the girl who by the book was the biggest suspect for arson. She's such a wonderful person, so sunny and full of life ... and okay, she makes bitchy comments sometimes, but with a ring of sarcasm, so you know she probably doesn't mean it ... and if she does it's deserved.
I think I've gone off in a tangent. I just think it's an interesting concept, the female hierachy. Especially when you can have several roles in different groups all at once. Anyone else want to add their two cents to the hypothesis?
Sunday 4 April 2010
The Picture Of Dorian Gray
I finished it tonight, so it's only fitting I pull it to pieces incoherently in here and then go watch my brother's copy of the recent DVD.
I've never read an Oscar Wilde before. Shocking, I know. I liked his imagination, the characterisations of Basil, Henry and Dorian. That you could read their personalities and the very theme of the book was what could happen should your personality overtake your conscience, or indeed other people's.
I couldn't get on with some things though. Like, in one chapter, he talks of Dorian's throwing himself into the study of jewels and tapestries and other things, things to show Dorian's refinement and wealth ... and it was good he made some references to the sorts of things Dorian was researching but I did find myself kinda reading past that quickly. One or two examples would have done me. But it is a short book, and I guess I can't fault him for padding it out, especially as in my footnotes, it states that a lot got cut out, like Basil's confession being cut down to accomodate for the Victorian audience. But also, I felt he glazed over a lot of details that could have been explored more fully.
I liked the twist at the end, though maybe I could see it coming? I don't know if I've read or heard a similar story, but I could see it coming and I was glad when it did. I would have liked to read Henry's reception to the news, but maybe that's something for the film?
Either way ... good book. I wanna read more of his stuff now. And I have to find another book in my collection to read ...
I've never read an Oscar Wilde before. Shocking, I know. I liked his imagination, the characterisations of Basil, Henry and Dorian. That you could read their personalities and the very theme of the book was what could happen should your personality overtake your conscience, or indeed other people's.
I couldn't get on with some things though. Like, in one chapter, he talks of Dorian's throwing himself into the study of jewels and tapestries and other things, things to show Dorian's refinement and wealth ... and it was good he made some references to the sorts of things Dorian was researching but I did find myself kinda reading past that quickly. One or two examples would have done me. But it is a short book, and I guess I can't fault him for padding it out, especially as in my footnotes, it states that a lot got cut out, like Basil's confession being cut down to accomodate for the Victorian audience. But also, I felt he glazed over a lot of details that could have been explored more fully.
I liked the twist at the end, though maybe I could see it coming? I don't know if I've read or heard a similar story, but I could see it coming and I was glad when it did. I would have liked to read Henry's reception to the news, but maybe that's something for the film?
Either way ... good book. I wanna read more of his stuff now. And I have to find another book in my collection to read ...
Friday 2 April 2010
Why zee?
I didn't get any more questions ...
... so, why do I get called zee? Or call myself zee? It's so boring lol, but I'll give the whole story. Blogspot, post this entry or we'll have major issues!
Anyway, my high school was a selective school, I passed my 11+ (just) to attend. Think I was in the top 1/3 of girls attempting the exam in my county? It was in a town about 15 miles from my house, so I had to get a bus (or three) to get to school on time. Those bus journeys took maybe an hour in the mornings, and twice that at night. There were about 4/5 other girls in my year from my town, and we used the same buses, meeting up with other girls along the route. When you spend that much time together in a confined space you do tend to bond. We all decided to have themed nicknames, if that makes sense? To identify ourselves as part of that group. The things you do to fit in at high school ... so I had a friend who already called herself 'Ez' and another who called herself 'Taz' and we went with that - it was your first consonants, first vowel, and a 'z' on the end. I'm probably explaining this around the houses lol, but there was 2 Taz's, Ez, Boz, Baz, Saz, Kaz, Shaz. They're the ones I remember anyway.
So a couple of years later, chatrooms and message boards were getting popular, and I wanted to join a couple (mum thought message boards were as bad as chatrooms, but you can't clear a message board ...) and I promised mum I wouldn't put my name anywhere, not when I was still under 18. So it was either 'shaz' - which was starting to wear on me, and frankly sounded far too chavvy, or something else, some made up name. Claire used to call me 'Shazzie' so I just kind of lopped off the 'sha' part ... it put that distance from my identity I needed in pubescence, for my mother's state of mind at least.
So yeah, that's how I came to 'zee' ... and it's stuck since I was 14. That, I think, is pretty good going, since I rarely stick with anything.
But I don;t know ... zee feels like a different part of me too. I'm actually quite quiet and reflective, pretty easy going but still a bit uptight ... but when I'm zee I don't have so many responsibilities I guess? It was zee who invented train hair and started skipping along tube stations after all ... zee who's crowd-surfed at Green Day, got tattooes and piercings, let me read Michael Moore on the plane first time we went to America and spent the entire time wearing black and acting like a douche, wanting to go bald, practically living in Camden when I was meant to be studying in the Midlands. Every time I've had to rely on a pair of balls I kinda get into 'zee' mode ... but I wouldn't call me that at work. Not unless you want the place torn down ... although I guess I was kinda channelling her today ... was being more gobby than usual lol ... she's my wild side.
I miss zee :(
I don't think I explained this well enough to be honest. I get it though. Even if I'm the only one.
... so, why do I get called zee? Or call myself zee? It's so boring lol, but I'll give the whole story. Blogspot, post this entry or we'll have major issues!
Anyway, my high school was a selective school, I passed my 11+ (just) to attend. Think I was in the top 1/3 of girls attempting the exam in my county? It was in a town about 15 miles from my house, so I had to get a bus (or three) to get to school on time. Those bus journeys took maybe an hour in the mornings, and twice that at night. There were about 4/5 other girls in my year from my town, and we used the same buses, meeting up with other girls along the route. When you spend that much time together in a confined space you do tend to bond. We all decided to have themed nicknames, if that makes sense? To identify ourselves as part of that group. The things you do to fit in at high school ... so I had a friend who already called herself 'Ez' and another who called herself 'Taz' and we went with that - it was your first consonants, first vowel, and a 'z' on the end. I'm probably explaining this around the houses lol, but there was 2 Taz's, Ez, Boz, Baz, Saz, Kaz, Shaz. They're the ones I remember anyway.
So a couple of years later, chatrooms and message boards were getting popular, and I wanted to join a couple (mum thought message boards were as bad as chatrooms, but you can't clear a message board ...) and I promised mum I wouldn't put my name anywhere, not when I was still under 18. So it was either 'shaz' - which was starting to wear on me, and frankly sounded far too chavvy, or something else, some made up name. Claire used to call me 'Shazzie' so I just kind of lopped off the 'sha' part ... it put that distance from my identity I needed in pubescence, for my mother's state of mind at least.
So yeah, that's how I came to 'zee' ... and it's stuck since I was 14. That, I think, is pretty good going, since I rarely stick with anything.
But I don;t know ... zee feels like a different part of me too. I'm actually quite quiet and reflective, pretty easy going but still a bit uptight ... but when I'm zee I don't have so many responsibilities I guess? It was zee who invented train hair and started skipping along tube stations after all ... zee who's crowd-surfed at Green Day, got tattooes and piercings, let me read Michael Moore on the plane first time we went to America and spent the entire time wearing black and acting like a douche, wanting to go bald, practically living in Camden when I was meant to be studying in the Midlands. Every time I've had to rely on a pair of balls I kinda get into 'zee' mode ... but I wouldn't call me that at work. Not unless you want the place torn down ... although I guess I was kinda channelling her today ... was being more gobby than usual lol ... she's my wild side.
I miss zee :(
I don't think I explained this well enough to be honest. I get it though. Even if I'm the only one.
Thursday 1 April 2010
April fools!
The only April Fools I experienced today, was the one where my managers didn't realise it was the day before Good Friday and therefore the first day/half day of holidays for a lot of people. Since Thursday day times are fairly quiet, there weren't many of us. There was a lot of customers. That's not a balanced equation. It was good though, because there's one manager who in times like that, will interfere with the way I work and slow me down (and mess things up then blame me. Like I wanted her help in the first place) and without her it felt like I was going at a good pace. Made me feel good about myself, lol.
Also, got a phone call and hour before I finished to say boy's sick again. He's got a big temperature and he was all floppy and quiet today when I saw him. Part of me hopes there's nothing too wrong, just a bug, and part of me hopes he's getting chicken pox, so he can get it over and done with.
But I've never had chicken pox, and if I caught it now I'd get shingles ... so I hope it's not too. Though I've got a holiday next week, so if we're going down, might as well be when my work can't yell at me. But I still have 2 shifts before he's allowed to break out in spots ...
Also, got a phone call and hour before I finished to say boy's sick again. He's got a big temperature and he was all floppy and quiet today when I saw him. Part of me hopes there's nothing too wrong, just a bug, and part of me hopes he's getting chicken pox, so he can get it over and done with.
But I've never had chicken pox, and if I caught it now I'd get shingles ... so I hope it's not too. Though I've got a holiday next week, so if we're going down, might as well be when my work can't yell at me. But I still have 2 shifts before he's allowed to break out in spots ...
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