"I promise you, I'm always there when your heart is filled with sorrow and despair"

We've almost been off school for a week and have I done anything productive? Of course not.
It's all well and good saying that I'll sit and do two gide essays, a nada essay and chaucer revision in my free time, but actually doing them is slightly more challenging.

Today, what I've done doesn't even come close to productive. I woke up at about 9.30, which was more impressive than yesterday when I crawled out of bed at about 11, then I went downstairs, had breakfast, turned on the TV and listened to some ghetto beats for literally hours. I think I'm actually becoming a chav. I try to kid myself that I only like dance music when I'm out somewhere, but to be quite honest, I thoroughly enjoyed them whilst sitting on my sofa at 10 in the morning. Don't get me wrong, I'm not chav enough to claim that "Taio Cruz" are lyrical genuises. "You wanna take a bite? Come whet my appetite, But put me in, do your thang, make my head spin" isn't exactly the most eloquent piece of writing I've ever come across, but my inner chav secretly loves it. *Shame.*


I returned from my trip to Durham the day before yesterday. You'd think that, by the state of my hair and face when I came back home, I'd been living on the streets of Durham for a night or two. In actual fact, I had stayed in a nice little, civilised room in Collingwood College and still managed to look like a tramp. The reason for my sweaty betty look was because, being the tit that I am, I decided to bring only casual clothes, in other words: jeans and plainish tops. When I discovered that there was going to be a disco on the monday night, my heart really did sink a bit, especially considering that the only shoes I'd brought were my uggy ones. Fan-tas-tic. I must have looked like a freak on that dance floor. People were like flipping sardines when they were dancing and so the room was basically a vessel of body heat. Then there's me, dressed like I'm about to go play in a bloody snowstorm in -50 degree weather. I'm sure I must have been the epitome of sexy.

Speaking of sexy, I have come to a realisation that Northern Ireland should change its title to Ugly Land. It would be more appropriate. My jaw was practically on the floor when I discovered that english boys, unlike northern irish ones, can be attractive. Not only were several of them attractive, they were really rather gorgeous. YUSS. Hopefully that means that when I go to Durham, there will be a slight chance of me getting a boyfriend who has a good personality and is also attractive. Crazy times, I know.

Obviously the fact that there's good looking people there isn't the only reason why I decided to pick Durham as my first choice. There is also the fact that it's incredibly pretty and right beside Newcastle, meaning that I can do all my shopping there. Newcastle is also meant to be fantastic for nights out, though apparently most people just go to Durham, even though one of its nightclubs was voted the 2nd worst in Europe. In Europe. The reason for that is because they supposedly play the cheesiest music you can think of. To be quite honest, cheesy music doesn't constitute a bad night out for me. There's nothing better than a bit of cheese, I say.

I need to go straighten my hair now, and have lunch because I'm so hungry right now that even the computer screen looks rather appetising.

Also: I am 18 in exactly a week...
WOOHOO.
That is all.

'She's like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness. She rules her life like a fine skylark and when the sky is starless."

It is the second of March. Time seems to pass so quickly these days. In just under a month ( well, 26 days to be precise), I will officially be an adult. Me. An adult.
When you're 10, the age eighteen seems unattainable. You cannot actually imagine being that old. You watch american teen movies, like Grease, where the 18-year-olds are tall, curvy and big-boobed. When you are older, however, you realise that those "18 year olds" could have practically been grannies( okay, so very young and slutty grannies, but grannies nontheless.) All those movies really do is make you feel a wee bit disappointed when you are nearly 18 and don't look remotely like what Olivia Newton John did.

I also wonder if 18-year-old boys nowadays mature later. I reckon that some of the guys in our year are still waiting for puberty to kick in. When I was in first year the Upper 6th guys were men. There was no question about it. Not only were they about twice my height, but if you looked at one of them from behind, you were able to tell if you were looking at a boy or a girl. With the guys in our year, working out their sex can sometimes be a challenge. Let's just say, they aren't exactly body builders...

* * *
Anyway, Elise and Heather's 18th was on Friday night. I wore a really cute dress that I recently bought in RiverIsland. I now realise that it should have been labelled " not suitable for dancing", since it was so tight that you could barely move your arms. I still did anyway. Unfortunately I probably looked like a robot for doing so. But oh well, you have to sacrifice some things sometimes. In this case, I sacrificed every inch of credibility that I once had.
Oh, the stripper. How could I forget the stripper? As part of Heather's birthday present, her friends hired her a stripper. It was absolutely hilarious. Hilarious as in a ' this is really funny to watch' way, but not hilarious enough that I would ever want one myself. I think I would probably die if my friends ever decided to get me a stripper, not that they ever would. They're much too clean for that sort of thing. Thank flipping goodness.

In other news: I just finished reading a book called 'Yes Man' by Danny Wallace, which Catherine lent me a ridiculous number of months ago. I am convinced that it is one of the best books I have ever read. Here's a synopsis of what it's about:

" 'I, Danny Wallace, being of sound mind and body, do hereby write this manifesto for my life. I swear I will be more open to opportunity. I swear I will live my life taking every available chance. I will say Yes to every favour, request, suggestion and invitation. I Will Swear To Say Yes Where Once I Would Say No.' Danny Wallace had been staying in. Far too much. Having been dumped by his girlfriend, he really wasn't doing the young, free and single thing very well. Instead he was avoiding people. Texting them Instead of calling them. Calling them Instead of meeting them. That is until that one fateful date when a mystery man on a late-night bus told him to 'Say Yes more'. These three simple words changed Danny's life forever. Yes Man is the story of what happened when Danny decided to say Yes to everything, in order to make his life more interesting. And boy, did it get more interesting. "

I don't think I've ever laughed as much at a book or, for that matter, felt so inspired at the end of it. It left me feeling rather philosophical and thinking: " I should say yes more."

I really ought to go and start my heap ( heap being a complete understatement) of homework which is due in tomorrow. The only good thing about Caters, Suzie and Sarah going to Berlin is that I might manage to do some productive work during my frees. Let's hope. I'll not have anythign more exciting to do anyway, let's be honest.

Well, I'll leave you here, my friends.
Until next time...