Mental Block

Words are failing me at the moment - hence the lack of posts. And yet after an hour of staring at this computer screen thinking of something sweet and poetic to write, I'm still stuck. So yes I may be having a long period of complete mental blocks but here's something I really like:

"Cause like you said, this is it. This is life. And I'm in love with you... I think that's the only thing I've ever really been sure of in my entire life. And I'm really messed up right now, and I got a whole lot of stuff I have to work out, but I don't want to waste any more of my life without you in it. And I think I can do this. I mean, I want to. I have to, right?"

God bless Garden State, for saying things I simply don't have the ability to right now. But to be honest I think I would write my whole life in quotes if I could, my words never seem good enough.

Jade Goody.

This post is to all those pretentious twats who think they give two shits about that fat, racist cow. Do you REALLY care that this woman died of cancer, when there are plenty of other nice and lovely people who've had worse and more gruelling cases of cancer, and also died? I'm not saying she deserved it as I wouldn't wish it on anyone but at least these other people didn't have the nerve to milk their disease for all it's worth.

Why in gods name would you EVER want to lose your dignity like that? Yes she may of already got naked in front of the whole nation, and been a racist twat in front of the whole nation - but having no dignity in death?! Are you sure she didn't get a brain tumour that knocked out her fucking common sense?

Everyone who feels an apparently 'strong' amount of empathy for her, take a look in the fucking mirror and realise you're faking it because you want to look like a good person. You don't care about her, you've never met her and as of today you never will. How about caring about something else closer to home, sweet cheeks?

March

I've had a nasty couple of weeks/month and there's so much I could write about in my awfully bitter style but I think I'm going to refrain from doing that - I need to keep to last months promise.

I'm not even going to write anything stomach-turningly sweet or deep, meaningful and poetic either.

A few others and I have really just needed a few laughs, and if you need them too the following two videos will cheer you up instantly. I hope they make you feel as giggly as I did.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jG5rQ3D_Zrw&NR=1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tXNquTYnyg0&feature=related

Oh and P.S, here's my life story:

My Secret, what's yours?

WELL! In Janurary/February time our drama class at my school were asked to devise a small performance to enter into the Arts Festival - a showcase of the schools musical/dramatic/dancing talents. Katie Hurrell, Izzy Staw and I came up with this idea of 'My Secret', and the video is very much self explainatory. A lot of people who wanted to didn't get to see it, and a lot of people I wanted to see it didn't either. So basically: here it is. Enjoy lads and ladies!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ny1AfmOxJwM

Judge a cover by it's book.

This a narrative I have to write for my English c/w, and I sort of like it. I'm going to pretend I posted this in March so it doesn't mess up my '3 posts a month' pattern.
We had to base it on someone being stuck in a cuboid and couldn't get out - for my narrative I tried to make it so the authorial voice's imagination is the cuboid. Tell me what you think?






Look at him, sitting down, leafing through his tattered book, caressed more often than my own lips. He seemed so engrossed in his own world and unfazed by the low flying seagulls. This man, sitting peacefully opposite me in my local park could easily have been one of the most enticing and thrilling people I’d ever laid eyes on and he was merely reading a book. He reminded me of a pirate; big leather boots (I’d say he was just hitting a size 11), scruffy un-brushed hair, a sheepskin coat, plain white shirt, worn down jeans, and those eyes. Oh gosh, those eyes. He looked in his late twenties but along with the way he cupped his stubble ridden chin with his dirty hands and squinted his piercing blues, he portrayed a lifetimes of stories.
I wanted to sit there all day and study his body language and drink every ounce of him in. I sort of expected him to pull out a guitar from under the bench and start singing – it would be an explanation for his rough ended fingers. This sunny, cloudless day was so picturesque and I took immense pleasure in knowing I had the best view in this humdrum town. I took my eyes off of him for just a second to take a glance at the now terribly boring other inhabitants of the park and I couldn’t deny the fact that they were nothing. Compared to him they were the most dire, worthless and pointless people to grace my world.

St fucking Valentine.

This man, and I mean this when I say it, is a royal cunt. He actually has no fucking idea what 'love' is. For instance he thinks it should only be shown to your loved one ONCE a year?! If you bloody well love someone you should show it to them as much as possible, no questions asked. Why shower them with revolting flowers, chocolates that they probably don't even like, over-sized cards which lets face it, are the biggest embarrassment a woman could ever behold and ridiculous teddies that'll probably be given to the dog when you've gone home. If I'm entirely honest with you all I see no real point in a Hallmark induced holiday that quite frankly makes me want to throw up a little in my mouth.

This Valentines day I spent the day with my best friend and had a really, really nice time. This could've happened any other day, it just so happened we arranged it on the 14th and let me tell you, my god would I have preferred it to an awkward meal that you both would pay good money for just so it could end.

I don't like St Valentine/Cupid/Twat face, and I certainly don't like the idea of a grown man still in diapers being in control of my love life.

Fuck you very much my dear.

P.S All my posts next month will not be as bitter, I promise.

You've made your decision, now please leave me alone.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder/weaker. You're far away but close to me/with someone else.



No.


You think I'm weaker but I'm only getting stronger. Did you seriously think that your pathetic, empty words were ever going to affect me? They've been said before and they'll be said again, and just like yours they'll be as meaningless as a Valentines card. This isn't bitterness, you're the epiphany of bitterness my sweet.

You're having second thoughts? Think again.