I am horrifically clumsy. At least twice a day I will stumble over and my best friend Alice will catch me and cry "You have weak ankles!" I recently made a new friend, and the first time I tripped and skinned my knees (I do this regularly) and she was really shocked and concerned as the blood dribbled from my scrape, but me and Alice just laughed and carried on walking.
I do have weak ankles though, I've broken one twice and the other one once, and sprained them both badly. In a way it's not a joke at all, it's paniful and they hurt and when I get old I'm going to get bad arthiritus. But yesterday, I was walking down the stairs from my tutor and fell slap down the stairs and cracked my shin on the concrete.
Ow.
And when I say ow I mean explietive-yelling-trying-not-to-cry ow. I heard it crack for God's sake. But I didn't bother reporting it, because I'm always doing things like that.
Except, I sat in my lesson terrified that I was going to go faint or vomit because the pain was so bad. By the end of the day I was limping, and it had swollen to a ridiculous size. tHen, when I went to bed last night I could NOT stop shaking. I felt all strange and out-of-place, as if someone had spun me around and dropped me someplace foreign. When I woke up this morning I couldn't eat anything. Mom thinks it's delayed shock or summit, and when she went down to the school to tell 'em I wasn't going in they said I had to go and fill out an 'accident report' as a matter of urgency on Monday.
Still.
I get a day off school.
And a swollen shin.
And no homework.
But some catching up to do.
I'm going off to watch St. Trinians in a moment or two.
(I was going to post a picture of my injury, but then I realised that if I was reading a blog where someone posted a picture of their busted-up shin, I'd think they were pretty weird.)
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
6 Nov 2009
31 Oct 2009
The Trauma of TV.
I cried on Wednesday.
I cried on Thusday.
I cried yesterday.
Each time I cried was because of a television programme. That may be making you shake your heads in disgust at me and 'my generation', but, seriously. It was sad. A bit more than sad, actually.
On Wednesday Waterloo Road was back for a new series. Now, I used to love this programme because Waterloo Road was like a more extreme version of my school. We even had the gun scare. Waterloo Road was like AHSTC because all the pupils went around saying it was crap to eachother, but the second someone from another school said it, they were like "hang on a second..." It was just like that. And this series, loads of snobby kids have come to the school, and they all look down on the Waterloo Road pupils, and thats how I feel at the Grammar. So I sat and sobbed about how much I miss my old school. It was very upsetting.
On Thursday it was the Sarah Jane Adventures, where I cried merely because I knew that David Tennant's time as The Doctor was coming to an end. Actually, now I think about it, this one was a bit pathetic. You can shake your head if you like.
On Friday it was Part 2 of The Sarah Jane Adventures. I cried because it was genuinely sad. Poor Sarah Jane had to tell this man she was in love with that he was actually dead. It was so sad - and Elizabeth Sladen did a perfect bit of acting. Then I cried because The Doctor told Sarah Jane not to forget him, and she responded by saying "No-one will forget you."
Me and Mom were in floods. I don't know what we're going to be like when he actually goes. I'm not thinking about it - David Tennant's Doctor CAN'T die, he's too amazing. Seriously, I have never cried as much as I did at the end of Doomsday, where he said goodbye to Rose. Unless it was the end of Series 4, when he was left all alone, in the TARDIS, all rainstreaked. Me and Mom sat on the sofa, weeping helplessly, and my Dad came in and was just like "ugh. You two." For some reason he is surprisingly immune to DT's charm, wit and good looks.
Jeez.
Break my heart why don't you?
I cried on Thusday.
I cried yesterday.
Each time I cried was because of a television programme. That may be making you shake your heads in disgust at me and 'my generation', but, seriously. It was sad. A bit more than sad, actually.
On Wednesday Waterloo Road was back for a new series. Now, I used to love this programme because Waterloo Road was like a more extreme version of my school. We even had the gun scare. Waterloo Road was like AHSTC because all the pupils went around saying it was crap to eachother, but the second someone from another school said it, they were like "hang on a second..." It was just like that. And this series, loads of snobby kids have come to the school, and they all look down on the Waterloo Road pupils, and thats how I feel at the Grammar. So I sat and sobbed about how much I miss my old school. It was very upsetting.
On Thursday it was the Sarah Jane Adventures, where I cried merely because I knew that David Tennant's time as The Doctor was coming to an end. Actually, now I think about it, this one was a bit pathetic. You can shake your head if you like.
On Friday it was Part 2 of The Sarah Jane Adventures. I cried because it was genuinely sad. Poor Sarah Jane had to tell this man she was in love with that he was actually dead. It was so sad - and Elizabeth Sladen did a perfect bit of acting. Then I cried because The Doctor told Sarah Jane not to forget him, and she responded by saying "No-one will forget you."
Me and Mom were in floods. I don't know what we're going to be like when he actually goes. I'm not thinking about it - David Tennant's Doctor CAN'T die, he's too amazing. Seriously, I have never cried as much as I did at the end of Doomsday, where he said goodbye to Rose. Unless it was the end of Series 4, when he was left all alone, in the TARDIS, all rainstreaked. Me and Mom sat on the sofa, weeping helplessly, and my Dad came in and was just like "ugh. You two." For some reason he is surprisingly immune to DT's charm, wit and good looks.
Break my heart why don't you?
13 Oct 2009
Who Wants A Fairytale Anyway?
I had to write a monolgue of a fairytale character for English Language, and I thought I would show you. For no other reason than I'm bored and want to post. It's about Cinderella after the Happy Ever After. I think it may illustrate my doubt about lasting love and, well, marraige.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Happily ever after wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Happily ever after is beautiful and sparkling. Happily ever after is... ever after.
It’s not sitting on the floor of the castle you called your home, in the finery you’ve just been told ‘isn’t really yours’, because you never bought it, watching the footmen – the footmen you used to command – carry your trunks out the door. It’s not watching your husband avert his gaze from you as you weep into the sleeve of your dress.
It’s the dress I was wearing when I met him. It’s my fairytale dress. One of the only things I can call my own, because it is my own. I had it when I was still a silly little girl from the sticks, still cleaning and cooking and dreaming of a handsome prince all of my very own. I had it the night my fairy godmother found me and turned me into a girl with glass slippers who felt invincible, who could do anything; even enchant the heir to the kingdom.
D’you know what? I wish I could have a word with Little Miss Fairy Godmother now. She’d have a few things to answer too, I can tell you. The last time I saw her was at the wedding – actually, I was allowed to keep that dress too, as a ‘sign of the Prince’s kindness’ – then she disappeared. What a cow. She was supposed to stick around, so, when things started to go wrong (and they did) she could wave her magic wand and tell me what to do to make it all better.
I mean, isn’t that a Fairy Godmother’s job? To stop me making it all go wrong.
I guess, if I think about it properly, it stopped being happily ever after right after the honeymoon. Yes, we came back all tanned and glossy and relaxed. The Prince had even got dreadlocks. They looked a bit silly, actually, but... well, I didn’t really want to tell him. He was so proud of them. I think he had visions of becoming some sort of new-age hippy prince. Anyway. Once we’d got back, he started working again – and he did have an awful lot to do, ‘cuz, well, he’s a prince – and I had to settle into the life of a princess. The thing is... and I know it’s not what people would expect... but, being a princess is pretty dull. You sit around all day waiting for someone to come and visit, so you can write them a thankyou note after.
I had to practice all that, too. I had to make my handwriting all fancy, and learn to speak like a princess. That meant a man told me I had to start saying Had, instead of ‘ad, and use big words. I can’t stop now. Had. Had. ‘ad. There we go. It’s nice to know I could go back to being how I used too. You know. If I wanted.
I wonder what I’ll do now? Now he’s gone off with his secretary. His secretary! It’s just such an insult, it’s such a cliché! Can you imagine what everyone will say? Bad blood. That’s what everyone will think – that he should never had married me in the first place. A little commoner who turned up to the palace one evening and passed herself off as someone with class.
Well. More fool me. That’s a warning to every girl, I suppose. You shouldn’t try and better yourself, ‘cuz that’s where all your problems’ll start.
I wonder if my Stepmum will ‘ave me back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Happily ever after wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Happily ever after is beautiful and sparkling. Happily ever after is... ever after.
It’s not sitting on the floor of the castle you called your home, in the finery you’ve just been told ‘isn’t really yours’, because you never bought it, watching the footmen – the footmen you used to command – carry your trunks out the door. It’s not watching your husband avert his gaze from you as you weep into the sleeve of your dress.
It’s the dress I was wearing when I met him. It’s my fairytale dress. One of the only things I can call my own, because it is my own. I had it when I was still a silly little girl from the sticks, still cleaning and cooking and dreaming of a handsome prince all of my very own. I had it the night my fairy godmother found me and turned me into a girl with glass slippers who felt invincible, who could do anything; even enchant the heir to the kingdom.
D’you know what? I wish I could have a word with Little Miss Fairy Godmother now. She’d have a few things to answer too, I can tell you. The last time I saw her was at the wedding – actually, I was allowed to keep that dress too, as a ‘sign of the Prince’s kindness’ – then she disappeared. What a cow. She was supposed to stick around, so, when things started to go wrong (and they did) she could wave her magic wand and tell me what to do to make it all better.
I mean, isn’t that a Fairy Godmother’s job? To stop me making it all go wrong.
I guess, if I think about it properly, it stopped being happily ever after right after the honeymoon. Yes, we came back all tanned and glossy and relaxed. The Prince had even got dreadlocks. They looked a bit silly, actually, but... well, I didn’t really want to tell him. He was so proud of them. I think he had visions of becoming some sort of new-age hippy prince. Anyway. Once we’d got back, he started working again – and he did have an awful lot to do, ‘cuz, well, he’s a prince – and I had to settle into the life of a princess. The thing is... and I know it’s not what people would expect... but, being a princess is pretty dull. You sit around all day waiting for someone to come and visit, so you can write them a thankyou note after.
I had to practice all that, too. I had to make my handwriting all fancy, and learn to speak like a princess. That meant a man told me I had to start saying Had, instead of ‘ad, and use big words. I can’t stop now. Had. Had. ‘ad. There we go. It’s nice to know I could go back to being how I used too. You know. If I wanted.
I wonder what I’ll do now? Now he’s gone off with his secretary. His secretary! It’s just such an insult, it’s such a cliché! Can you imagine what everyone will say? Bad blood. That’s what everyone will think – that he should never had married me in the first place. A little commoner who turned up to the palace one evening and passed herself off as someone with class.
Well. More fool me. That’s a warning to every girl, I suppose. You shouldn’t try and better yourself, ‘cuz that’s where all your problems’ll start.
I wonder if my Stepmum will ‘ave me back.
8 Oct 2009
& I Said, What About Breakfast At Tiffany's?
Wow!!
For the first time since starting AGS, I have had some glimmer of why I'm there. It also coincided with a bit of an epiphany on the Uni front.
But, first to the day.
I got called back in history, (a subject which I've already been told my Summer Project was the best in the class (God, I'm such a little history nerd)) by Miss E, and she said that she wanted to use my first essay on The Coalition Government as an 'example of excellence' to the class. Well. I was pretty chuffed, but also a bit awkward, as no-one wants to be a real goody-goody on the first homework. But then she asked me to make a bunch of changes for tomorrow so she could do it, and I thought, 'well, it wan't that excellent was it?'
But anyway, happiness there. And then me and Wally were late for tutor 'cuz we'd been eating fairycakes at my house, and so when we went to apologise to our tutor, she told me that she'd read a peice of work I'd done for Language, that Mrs BS had given her, and that it was really good. She called me a clever girl, (which was, actually, a little bit patronising.) But still. I finally feel like I'm making some kind of progress.
And then last night, there was a University Discovery. I have no-go areas for uni:
I don't want to go to the North of England.
I don't want to go to Oxford or Cambridge (even if I did have a hope in hell of getting even close to the grades)
I don't want to go to London.
I don't want to go to Wales - cuz I don't really like the accent (sorrrryyyy)
I don't want to go to Scotland APART from Edinborough, which is second on my choices.
I don't want to stay close to home.
So really, it's not going to be very easy. But, one place I've always wanted to go to is Exeter. For one main reason:
JK Rowling went there. For me, as you can see from above, that is a good enough reason to want to go, because I'm going to try and emulate her if I can. Butttt, last night, my Dad discovered two more reasons that I should go:
1) They are 5th in The Sunday Times uni guide for English Lit (the course I want to do)
2) If you study Lit there, you spend the second year at an American or Canadian uni.
Now, I LOVE America. I want to live there when I grow up. I've travelled around 46 states, and I'm doing the rest at Easter. This would be a dream come true. So, my Dad booked us a tour around the campus on Wednesday 28th October, so I can get a feel for it, cuz it won't be long till I start having to make big decisions.
As everyone keeps telling me.
God.
This is a long post, and I will sign off now, as I have to go and interveiw my Grandad for my Language Coursework. I'll let you know how it goes.
For the first time since starting AGS, I have had some glimmer of why I'm there. It also coincided with a bit of an epiphany on the Uni front.
But, first to the day.
I got called back in history, (a subject which I've already been told my Summer Project was the best in the class (God, I'm such a little history nerd)) by Miss E, and she said that she wanted to use my first essay on The Coalition Government as an 'example of excellence' to the class. Well. I was pretty chuffed, but also a bit awkward, as no-one wants to be a real goody-goody on the first homework. But then she asked me to make a bunch of changes for tomorrow so she could do it, and I thought, 'well, it wan't that excellent was it?'
But anyway, happiness there. And then me and Wally were late for tutor 'cuz we'd been eating fairycakes at my house, and so when we went to apologise to our tutor, she told me that she'd read a peice of work I'd done for Language, that Mrs BS had given her, and that it was really good. She called me a clever girl, (which was, actually, a little bit patronising.) But still. I finally feel like I'm making some kind of progress.
And then last night, there was a University Discovery. I have no-go areas for uni:
I don't want to go to the North of England.
I don't want to go to Oxford or Cambridge (even if I did have a hope in hell of getting even close to the grades)
I don't want to go to London.
I don't want to go to Wales - cuz I don't really like the accent (sorrrryyyy)
I don't want to go to Scotland APART from Edinborough, which is second on my choices.
I don't want to stay close to home.
So really, it's not going to be very easy. But, one place I've always wanted to go to is Exeter. For one main reason:
JK Rowling went there. For me, as you can see from above, that is a good enough reason to want to go, because I'm going to try and emulate her if I can. Butttt, last night, my Dad discovered two more reasons that I should go:
1) They are 5th in The Sunday Times uni guide for English Lit (the course I want to do)
2) If you study Lit there, you spend the second year at an American or Canadian uni.
Now, I LOVE America. I want to live there when I grow up. I've travelled around 46 states, and I'm doing the rest at Easter. This would be a dream come true. So, my Dad booked us a tour around the campus on Wednesday 28th October, so I can get a feel for it, cuz it won't be long till I start having to make big decisions.
As everyone keeps telling me.
God.
This is a long post, and I will sign off now, as I have to go and interveiw my Grandad for my Language Coursework. I'll let you know how it goes.
20 Sept 2009
In any other world, You could tell the difference.
I suspect that this has been one of those weeks where I'll look back and think: "Yep, that was a decider."
It has been a tough week. Most nights I've been too exhausted to cry myself to sleep, even though that's what I've wanted too do.
School is hard. And I was really, really considering quitting and going for this job at my Dad's old company. £13,000 a year and my Mum said she'd get me a flat if I took it. Tempting. Horribly, horribly, tempting...
So yesterday I had totally hit this brick wall, and I just thought: "I cannot do this for two years." this being homework, being living for the weekends and merely suviving Monday thru Thursday, being tired all the time. Then, I reconsidered.
I am not a quitter. I really am not. I don't have a history of giving things up because they're too hard. It's not how I was raised. It doesn't conform with my "What Would [insert current faevourite book character here] Do?" way of thinking.
So I'm not gonna quit because I have a bit too much work.
Then, I had bad news about a family member. That knocked me for six, and I'm not hugely ready to deal with it all yet.
But, on the upside, I'm going to Russia. Real Russia. The Russia of my imaginings. The Russia of my childhood dreams. In March, with my school.
So.
Stress, sadness and joy. It has been a tiring week.
It has been a tough week. Most nights I've been too exhausted to cry myself to sleep, even though that's what I've wanted too do.
School is hard. And I was really, really considering quitting and going for this job at my Dad's old company. £13,000 a year and my Mum said she'd get me a flat if I took it. Tempting. Horribly, horribly, tempting...
So yesterday I had totally hit this brick wall, and I just thought: "I cannot do this for two years." this being homework, being living for the weekends and merely suviving Monday thru Thursday, being tired all the time. Then, I reconsidered.
I am not a quitter. I really am not. I don't have a history of giving things up because they're too hard. It's not how I was raised. It doesn't conform with my "What Would [insert current faevourite book character here] Do?" way of thinking.
So I'm not gonna quit because I have a bit too much work.
Then, I had bad news about a family member. That knocked me for six, and I'm not hugely ready to deal with it all yet.
But, on the upside, I'm going to Russia. Real Russia. The Russia of my imaginings. The Russia of my childhood dreams. In March, with my school.
So.
Stress, sadness and joy. It has been a tiring week.
8 Sept 2009
The Dice Were Loaded From The Start.
Tomorrow, I start my brand new school.
I. Am. Dreading. It.
But, in a kind of detactched, apathetic way, because part of me is still thinking: "What? Me? Going to school tomorrow? Nah."
I've been so unstructured for so long, I don't no how I'm gonna deal with a 8:45am - 4pm day. With, you know, actual bells and stuff. And an alotted time for lunch. What if I want to eat my sandwhich at 11am? I won't be able too, because the teacher will be very annoyed.
The one fabby things about 6th form, though, is that we have a little cafe bit, which means that we get to order hot things like tea.
Ah, tea.
It might just be what gets me through the next two years of my life.
Wish me luck!
I. Am. Dreading. It.
But, in a kind of detactched, apathetic way, because part of me is still thinking: "What? Me? Going to school tomorrow? Nah."
I've been so unstructured for so long, I don't no how I'm gonna deal with a 8:45am - 4pm day. With, you know, actual bells and stuff. And an alotted time for lunch. What if I want to eat my sandwhich at 11am? I won't be able too, because the teacher will be very annoyed.
The one fabby things about 6th form, though, is that we have a little cafe bit, which means that we get to order hot things like tea.
Ah, tea.
It might just be what gets me through the next two years of my life.
Wish me luck!
25 Jun 2009
I'm running away with the circus.
I'm going to run away with the circus.
This is not, infact, a pipe dream. There really is a circus pitched up just outside my hometown, and the brightly colored big-top looks particularly tempting after yesterday. I went to my new school's (grade-dependant) induction day yesterday and it really stressed me out. I loved my A-Level subjects: English Lit, English Lang, History, Re. They all sounded really my sort of thing. I mean, in Lit we get to do Hamlet. HAMLET!! I practically know that play off-by-heart. And this bit called 'Elements of the Gothic' where we read Shelley and Dracula and Wuthering Heights (my pretty-much favourite book). I'm not so keen on the school, however. It was all higgledy-piggledy & all over the place, and the teachers did not seem very interesting or inspiring. And, there was just something about the school that I didn't like. The vibe was odd.
& my mum was really dissapointed by my reaction, 'cuz she thought I was going to love it. When I came home, she was standing at the door all buzzed, and I just said "yeah, it was allright." Because that's all I could say to her. Thats all it was.
& my mum was really dissapointed by my reaction, 'cuz she thought I was going to love it. When I came home, she was standing at the door all buzzed, and I just said "yeah, it was allright." Because that's all I could say to her. Thats all it was.
And so, I would totally being weighing up my options right now, if I had any. But that school is my only option, I didn't apply anywhere else. How foolish of me. Worst mistake I've ever made.
But, the thing is, I do have another option: the circus thing.
But, the thing is, I do have another option: the circus thing.
I know I can't jump through hoops or eat fire or swing from a giant trapeze, but I can sell tickets. All you need to do is get people to buy them; and I can do that. All I need to do is bat my eye-lashes a bit and voila, tickets sold. I've done it before (all beit not for a circus, for a charity thing) and I can do it again. I'll be like Carlotta in 'Mr. Galliano's Circus'. [I love that book, my Dad used to read it to me & I would long to be like Jimmy & Carlotta.]
D'you see? I've got it all worked out.
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