Thursday, 24 February 2011

Sunday, 8 November 2009

Hello, faithful readers.

Miss me?

I'll pretend you said yes, and continue on with this. Otherwise, well, just stop reading. Okay. Stop.


Okay. Good. Now that they're gone, let's get on with it.

I'm honestly not sure what to talk about as I can't remember what my last was on, so I'll just ramble and hopefully entertain some of you.

(If I don't, feel free to not tell me. I won't mind. Honest.)

My life has been somewhat dominated by Uni, lately. I started. I'm not sure I like it entirely yet, but it's early days. Theatre Studies is predictably full of pompously pretentious people, but I feel like I'm beginning to find people I can get along with, which is a good thing. A really good thing.

I instituted a new feature in essay/presentations, in which I get people to give me random words to put it. I did well, managed to get them all in with the first round of essays. The hardest one was from a friend of mine who gave me "Hammock". In a Theatre Studies essay. Not to be bested by her, I did it. I've yet to gloat to her face, but I did gloat-text her. Which will do for now.

I don't want this to become one of those things, but I just watched "Stand By Me". Made me think about the fact that this, right here and now, is generally the time where friends begin to shift and change and you lose touch with people. And I'm trying desperately not to have that happen.

There endeth serious real life talk. I promise.

Anyway, it's late. I've rambled enough. And I'll try and do this more often.

Until then, Au revoir, Faithful Readers.

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

Do You Wanna Date My Avatar?

Felicia Day is Win.

Wednesday, 5 August 2009

The future's rappin' at my door...

Hello faithful readers!

It seems I neglect this blog a tad... But much of what I have to say can be accurately surmised in 140 characters or less, so therefore much of it goes to twitter. I can also twitter from my iPhone, and don't need to sit down at a computer and type something, which unless it's entirely procrastinatory I get ever so slightly twitchy... Less so with this blog than other writing endeavors, but still.

Anyhoodle, what have I been up to since my last blog post, I hear you ask? Well aren't you in luck, that's almost exactly what this blog is about! What a crazy random happenstance.

(Dr. Horrible FTW!)

What to start with? I suppose the fact that today was results day would be an ideal place to start, considering it is actually one of the reasons behind thinking I should do a new one of these.

Yes, today I got my results from my 6th year exams. Exciting, no? No. Since I'm in Uni, it was far less of a deal than the last two years, and even then I was cool as a cucumber -- Which I suppose are cool, given the reputation they've earned over the years. It's just my nature.

Moving on, I managed to get a B in Advanced Higher English, which made me happy because I did the Creative Writing Folio with a script (what I want to do in life) and the diary thing I posted a while back, which I just enjoyed writing. I also did my Dissertation on film, which is what I'll be doing at uni, so all in all the B made me smile.

I got a B in music, too! Which also made me happy, because I had the previously mentioned on this blog teacher who was my favourite and bought me a pint at prom. And I just kind of didn't wanna let her down, 'cause she kept saying how she wanted me to do well 'cause she felt I deserved it. I think she might appeal because she had me down as an A, but I'm just glad I did well.

I got an A in Modern Studies (politics and stuff for any yanks), which surprised me 'cause I did like no work in the class. Or at home. Or studying. Or any Mods in the month before the exam because our teacher was off the last week before exams and we didn't go in, then, again, no studying. I guess I can just rant well about politics sometimes.

All in all, good year results wise.

So, the last month I've been at this Summer Uni thing, which has been good... Except having to drag myself there. Being there has been alright, but the having to go has been kind of a drag. But, I dropped Psychology. Not enough Derren Brown learning why people do what they do stuff, too much statistics. I dropped it after a 2 1/2 hour lecture on stats, my mind died. No more.

I got a B in my Philosophy essay, though. My first Uni essay (and my first Philosophy essay) and I got a B. So good start. Find out about my Film & TV essay tomorrow, so watch the twitter thingy over there ( >> ) and I'm sure I'll tweet my result.

I had my Driving test all booked for yesterday, then they went and cancelled last minute! Moved it to the 17th! Gonna keep trying to get a closer date, though. It really pissed me off, though. I just want to drive already!!

I think that's about everything in my life right now. Or, at least, the stuff I care to blog about. There's other, slightly confusing even to me stuff, and other long story whiney stuff, but this isn't the place. We oughta keep this place light! And happy! And often sarcastic and bitter, but in a jovial lighthearted kind of way.

My Pink Floyd poster just fell down... Totally didn't scare me.

Anyhoo... Erm...

American Psycho... In My Pants.
Spinal Tap... In My Pants

Quick round of "... In My Pants" to lighten the mood.

Go forth, and spread the love faithful readers. Namaste.

Sunday, 21 June 2009

Mona Lisa Musta Had The Highway Blues

Hello faithful reader.

I'm back with an actual post, as opposed to the writing piece I posted last time.

I haven't made an actual post since May, so I won't lie, much has happened, though unfortunately non of it very interesting. But alas, you'll now be treated to various ramblings about most of them.

Firstly, I finished my exams in May, and thusly as of the 26th of May I have no longer been a high school pupil. Huzzah. Blimey, almost a whole month of being a non-pupil. In saying that, this week was the first week I've not been at the school ever day for the show. Which was strange, really. Having to go in at lunch times/after school being officially done with the place as an educational establishment.

Luckily, it was just to see one of the teachers I actually liked (my music teacher, who was my favourite last year. And only 24. lol). So, it wasn't all bad.

Speaking of the show (Oh yes, master of the segue at work), it went rather well. I much preferred playing the sadist Dentist, and -- so I'm told, and do feel myself -- I did rather kill on the wednesday (My last dentist night). I was told -- by the very teacher mentioned above, amongst other -- that I was worryingly good at playing a drug-addict-woman-beating-sadistic-masochist-dentist. I wonder what they're trying to say...

This week was my first week at the University Summer School, too. It really picked up when I got to the Film & TV class, then Philosophy. Psychology... well... we'll wait and see...

There was Prom, too. Wound up meeting an old friend from Primary (Elementary for you yanks), getting bought a pint by a teacher (the afore mentioned), and crashing on a friends armchair and barely sleeping. Good night. Best part of the night was my Suit, though. And hanging with the drunk Music/Drama teachers.

For a month of non-posting, I can think of very little else to say that's not vaguely self pittying and way too much for this generally cheery themed blog. And so I leave you with this:

"The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool." - Almost Famous.

Goodnight, Farewell and Namaste faithful reader.

Tuesday, 2 June 2009

The Division Bell

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. It’s all I can hear. Over and over. And over. And over. Tick. Tock. The incessant ticking of that damn clock! It’s like they’re pumping it into the room just to send me loopy. I can’t stand it.

I can’t seem to wrap my head around it, this place. Even after all this time. These awful “nurses” -- they call themselves that, I hardly would! -- don’t seem to get the bitter irony that I’m losing my marbles in this place. It drives a man out of his mind, truly!

I find myself locking away parts of my mind so they cannot get to them. They mustn’t get to them. Though there is a downside. I am losing not only my mind, but my memories. My most precious are slipping away. What is a man without memories -- like the corners of my mind -- misty water coloured memories… Curse you Streisand! Your wretched lyrics afflict my soul!

I was told by a young male nurse -- whom I can only assume was on some form of illicit narcotic -- to “chillax” this morning. Seemingly some sort of portmanteau word melding “chill out” and “relax”. The things the youth of today are doing with our language…


Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet eating her curds and whey. Along came a spider who sat down beside and frightened Miss Muffet away!

Why this Miss Muffet was frightened away by a creature presumably no bigger than her big toe I cannot fathom. Arachnophobia perplexes me so…

Though the little buggers are everywhere in this place!

I cannot help but feel sorry for the poor spider. One can only imagine that he simply wanted some company, or perhaps good conversation. Miss Muffet appears to be quite antisocial!

That story -- fictitious as it more than likely is -- reminds me much of this hell hole to which I am confined. Most of the inmates -- they call us “patients”, but I have chosen to take a different stance! -- here do not enjoy you sitting besides them, much like Miss Muffet did not enjoy the spider’s company.

I must confess, however, I can’t say that I would much enjoy most of those people out there sitting besides me. Not through any sort of antisocial aspect of me, personally. They’re just quite unwell, more so than -- they claim! -- I am.


There was quite a commotion today in the lunch room. A man made an awful scene over pudding. Apparently he demanded his pudding before his meal, something the staff had trouble comprehending. They refused, which just set him off!

“How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat?” they tried to explain, eventually shouting it at him from all angles. The question -- posed many years ago in my youth by a famous, and rather trippy, rock group in the seventies, ironically on an album about insanity and social isolation -- seems to be of the utmost importance to the people here. Why? I cannot quite understand.

But yet, they insist that pudding must come after meat. One really has to wonder: who on earth are they to decide such a thing? Though, I suppose it is not really them. This kind of control is rampant throughout our society, rules and codes of how things should be done that have apparently been in effect since the dawn of man.

I can’t help but question them.

What is the advantage of having meat first? Biologically, there is no difference. It gets just as digested no matter the order in which it goes in. My mother used to say, “It will spoil your appetite!” I always thought that the meat would spoil my appetite for the pudding! Alas, I never expressed this opinion. As far as I can recall, my mother was too fierce a woman to cross with such brazen insolence.

We are an undoubtedly a controlled society. Rigid codes of conduct handed down through the generations that cannot be broken, lest you be looked on as some sort of animal!

They -- whoever “they” are, those in charge, I presume -- are intent on keeping us in line. Never has that been more easily identifiable than in here. The constant routine is mind numbing…

All in all it was all just bricks in the wall…

This nostalgic musical pondering has reminded me of my extensive record collection! Oh how I adore it. Can you imagine the pain of having such a collection of records and yet have no access to it? No means by which to listen to it? It truly does break ones heart.

I hypothesize that if those vile creatures were to allow records and record players, they would all be a might saner in this place! But they don’t seem likely to listen to me, which is a shame…


It occurs to me that one usually has some sort of date heading on writings such as this. Though, this would prove problematic. This place tends to suck the life out of a person, and it has rendered my sense of time more or less shot to hell!

I cannot remember how long ago I wrote any of the previous entries in the makeshift diary of sorts. They could have been yesterday, last week, last year, they could very well have been this morning! It does not help with what they like to call my healing process. Not at all.

For all I know, I’ve been in here my entire life. I have only the briefest recollections of my life before my -- unfounded! -- incarceration. It’s almost like it was a dream that someone else had and described to me. It’s so far away, now.

There was a time when people from my life would visit me, but that, alas, has ceased. It became just Michelle, and now I am alone with myself. My constantly judgemental self. I miss her almost constantly -- even if I, in fact, never knew her! Michelle. Ma belle. Sont des mots qui vont trés bien ensemble, Trés bien ensemble.

I believe she has my record collection, actually. I do wish she would bring it by…


Every now and then, they bring in new patients to this place. It’s rather disturbing, to be honest. They practically parade them through the halls. Keeping everyone back, which makes them incapable of not looking…


The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round. The wheels on the bus go round and round, all day long…

More like all night long!

That infernal song is as annoying as the clocks in this dreadful place! My neighbour in the cell -- despite what they say, that’s what they are, cells -- next to mine sings this song every night. He claims he cannot get to sleep without singing it.

The so called nurses -- if they can so be called -- believe that it will help him in the long run. But what about the rest of us? What do they care about us? The songs will likely drive us all mad! Those of us who aren’t already, that is…


Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one,
The mouse ran down,
Hickory, dickory, dock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. All. Day. Long.


Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see...


This morning I was sat down with a group of others and made to read nursery rhymes -- apparently it was a request by one of the loonier patrons, one which the nurses thought would suit me to be a part of. It didn’t.

I did, however, gain a new insight into the ludicrous nature of nursery rhymes and fables from my childhood. Aren’t they supposed to have some form of moral lesson from which children can learn in a way deemed by someone to be “fun”? Some have no such lesson. Jack and Jill is about an illicit love affair, for example. The only lesson I can see is be faithful or you will end up with a cracked skull!

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the king's horses,

And all the king's men,

Couldn't put Humpty together again.

I see no moral for this little tale. Nor do I see any mention of Humpty Dumpty being an egg! Nor can I see why the king would be so reckless in his use of ALL of his horses and ALL of his men.

Sounds to me like he should be one of my cell mates in here!


My brief re-acquaintance with nursery rhymes recently awaked certain memories of my childhood. Blurry, hazy memories, but memories nonetheless!

All I have managed to keep, however, if the vague recollection that they were happy memories. Happier times. Simpler times.


I didn’t sleep a wink last night! It seems it is not only my neighbour who required the wheels on the bus to make their eternal circle in order to drift off to sleep.

The nurses -- I still cannot fathom how they have the nerve to call themselves medical professionals… blast, I fear I’m repeating myself -- took him away last night for “therapy”. They blast him with electricity and say it makes him better -- all it does is render him incapable of just about anything, except perhaps slow roasting a beef joint…

I believe the very same technique has been employed to get information out of people by those less liberal than I. I cannot imagine Roger has much information that is useful to these people…

It makes me quite sick. How I wish I could get out of here…


I am growing more and more sick of this God forsaken place.


How these nurses were ever cleared to work with human beings is beyond me!

I had a run in with one today -- at least, I think it was today. Regardless when it was, it was infuriating! She has incredibly little people skills!

They were herding us into the onsite chapel, and I expressed my distaste for being made to do so. Being a free world, I assumed this would be acceptable, but apparently not! It seems we no longer live in a world of free speech!

She looked at me as if I had just vomited up a human head. She looked both confused and repulsed.

“Excuse me?” she said, as if she were personally offended.

“I refuse to be made to sit through this ritual when none of it has any relevance to me.”

“You’re disturbing the other patients” She said, and for a moment I almost believed that she cared about any of us.

“The other patients have no idea what’s going on!” I told her, and quite rightly so! “Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ll go back to my room.”

As I went to walk away, a number of orderlies got in my way, manhandling me! I was livid! Naturally, I pushed them off, and they had the cheek to drug me!

I’m told they dragged me back to my room in a drugged up daze. Animals…


Silence. For the first time in who knows how long, there is silence. I’m not at all used to it.


I came to an unusual realisation today. This place is named after Saint Claire, and I don’t know why. Saint Claire, I think, is the patron saint of such things as clairvoyance, eye disease, goldsmiths, laundry, embrodiers, gilders, good weather, needleworkers, telephones, telegraphs, television… And I believe there are others.

Why on earth would someone name a mental institution after a saint with no apparent relevance to the mentally ill?


They are threatening to take away my typewriter! This is preposterous! They claim the clicking is disrupting other “patrons”.

They do not understand the importance of this outlet. It is keeping me sane. How can they expect anyone to stay sane with the barbarous techniques they employ! They can’t take away my typewriter! They will not!

My headstrong nature, however, does not extend much further than this page. I fear that if they come to take it, I will be rather useless to stop them…


Here endeth the Prose.

That, faithful reader, is the prose piece for my Creative Writing folio in Advanced English. So I thought I'd share.

Friday, 1 May 2009

The Long And Winding Road...

Hello, faithful reader.

It's been a while, yes? Well over a month, almost two. I apologise for that, I do. I don't know what happened.

So, what -- I hear you ask -- has been going on? Well... Surprisingly little. I've either had little to say, or simply been to busy to say anything. Last few days I have honestly had this blog making page open most of the time I spent on the computer. Other things just took over, both things I had to do and strange and sudden moods that were less than good.

(I won't bore you with the details, 'cause I'm half convinced I'm just crazy.)

Though, I do have a few tales to tell, I suppose.

The first involves neds and immeasurable and ridiculous racism.

(Granted, all racism is ridiculous, but, this takes the cake. Really)

(Also, speaking of cake: The phrase "Have your cake and eat it too"... Eh? What's the point in having the cake if not to eat it? I mean, really...)


My friends and I, over our easter break, took a trip to the... *ahem*... lovely town of Ayr. While there, we had an encounter, lets call it, with the local neds. Now, we did nothing whatsoever, I presume they just got angered by the townies in their presence. Who knows. The strangeness comes in what they shouted at us.

Now, I must preface this with saying that my friends and I are incredibly white. I mean, unbelievably. You know, burn at the hint of sun white.

So why these [or this, it was mainly one of them] shouted [such things as] "Black bastards!" at us... Well, not one of us has yet to figure it out, really. It's just racism for racisms sake, really. There's no way he could actually have seen any black people anywhere near us... So who the fuck knows.

This trip, incidentally, decided my university for me. Realising Ayr is a catastrophically boring place, even with my bestest of buddies [and Tommy... long story], and living there to go to UWS seems like a very dull prospect. So Glasgow it is, and i'm kind of leaning towards the joint degree -- the previous outsider.

I have till Star Wars day [Monday. May the forth (be with you). Get it?] to officially accept, though.

The school show [Little Shop Of Horrors] is going well, and currently one of the few things about the school I like anymore.

Good thing I only have like 5 days of actually being in the school as a pupil left, right? I can't wait to get out of that place. Honestly. I'll miss some of the people, and the Music and Drama departments, but other than that...

I mean, the people in charge of the school don't seem to give a shit about the pupils in that place. Most of the ordinary teachers do, but the ones at the top don't give a shit.

This has been slightly rantier than I had anticipated, but there we go. I could rant about various other things, to be honest, but there's a lot of backstory and qualifying that must be done for those, and that's a bit much for what I really intend to be a far more light hearted little blog.

And, to end on a light hearted note, I think we should campaign to have the Queen dethroned and replace her with Stephen Fry. Kind Stephen Fry of Great Britain, has a real ring to it, right?

Anyhoodle, that's all for now.

Ta ta for now, faithful reader.

(PS. Race, probably a good call with the mermaid award, to be honest. Though I do appreciate the mention. =])

(PPS. I hope your feeling better from your period of illness)

(PPPS. And now, it's actually fairwell, faithful readers.)