National Gallery

I'm tired and I need a wee but I'm staring at a painting. It is a painting from the 1500s, I think it is silly. A woman side steps towards me, she is wearing a shirt and a name tag that suggest she works for the gallery.
"Do you like it?" She says, nodding at the painting with a smug smile.
"Not really" I reply, glancing at her in my best 'leave me alone, I'm tired and need a wee' way. Her smile becomes more smug, she knows something about this painting that she desperately wants to share with me, because it will make her seem clever. I don't let her. "I think it's silly," I continue, "Jesus doesn't look like that".
She says: "hhha", it's not a laugh, but a word she uses to illustrate the fact she finds my comment amusing, "how can you know what he looked like?". I can see she's the sort of person who likes to ask questions that she thinks people can't answer, it makes her feel special.
"Because I've seen him." I say slowly and loudly, like my Grandad would if he were talking to someone from another country. I look at her face and raise my eyebrows slightly.
Still smiling, she turns and shuffles away. What a rude lady.

The National Gallery makes me sad, there's too many paintings. If it were a person, it would be waving it's arms around going "LOOK, look at my paintings, aren't they brilliant, they're worth billions and billions of pounds. LOOK AT THEM, no, don't ACTUALLY look at them, they're all the same, that's why we've put them in these rooms all on top of each other and next all to each other in rows, APPRECIATE THEM. NO, what did I say - don't LOOK at them, just know that they're worth more money than you could ever imagine, walk quickly round so that you can *say* you've seen them and feel all arty and clever, I mean, what more could you want? The boring ones are in big sparkly frames so you don't have to stop or think about them at all. JUST APPRECIATE THEM."

However, I do like the National Portrait Gallery. I don't know why, it's just much better. I like all the faces looking out of the walls at you, I like the fact you can walk into a room and see some of the most famous writers, artists, actors and politicians all together, like an incredible party, you can imagine what they'd be saying to one another and why Noel Coward would be standing next to Vanessa Bell and who would be most likely to get thrown out for fighting, who'd be the most drunk and who would be sitting in the corner looking lonely...

On the other hand, something upset me deeply. I saw a portrait of James Joyce, painted in 1935, he was... old. And ordinary looking, and a bit sad. He's one of my favourite writers ever but it never crossed my mind that he was actually a man, with a face and a comb-over and... trousers, he was just the thoughts behind the words in the books. Not a person. It makes me feel sick to think about.

Exam

I had a Latin mock today, it was ridiculous. It wasn't particularly difficult, except for the questions that I had no idea how to even begin to answer.

You get a bit of a story in Latin then questions about it

Questions like -

"Part A: Why was he arrested?
Answer - Because he beat a man to death for trying to steal his cow."
Part B: Why do you think this was wrong?
Answer - erm... BECAUSE HE BEAT A MAN TO DEATH FOR TRYING TO STEAL HIS COW?!"

"Part A: What does the King call his son?
Answer - 'my son'
Part B: Why does the King call him this?"
Answer - because he is his son."

I left the exam feeling confused and misled. Not a feeling I like very much.

Yesterday I was revising History. I drew a mind map.

If this is what the inside of my mind looks like, it's no wonder I spend so much of my life feeling baffled and a bit lost.

Green

Walking into an empty room, thinking of not very much at all, I suddenly announce: "I don't even like Paul Weller" So surprised by this outburst, I automatically touch my own face, to ensure that it is me speaking and not somebody else whose body I accidentally came to inhabit. It was me. I don't particularly like Paul Weller but it was truly the strangest thing to ever tumble from my mouth, and believe me, I talk some utter nonsense at times.

My friend Hayley thinks I'm weird, she doesn't say that, she says I'm "funny" or "different", but that's just because she's polite. I think she's weird too, she has an obsession with Xena: Warrior Princess, which I don't understand, but together we can do a really great impression of the Dr Who theme tune. She looks like the girl in the Lynx advert - the one where it's all rewinded and two people meet in the supermarket, then run home, discarding their clothes as they do so. I tell her this, but she refuses to believe me. She's also REALLY smart, she does everything at the speed of light then sits and draws pictures of Xena: Warrior Princess characters in her notebook, although her handwriting does look like a person sat on it, then shuffled round a bit (all slanty and squished and uneven).

A person sat on me today, they didn't shuffle around at all, they apologised, then stood up.

I have a thought for the day for you, here it is: If you participate in something no one else can be bothered with, you will win.

Why I wouldn't be a great journalist:

A conversation with a friend about someone I quite like:

"...and he smells really nice, I noticed that today. I almost told him, but then I stopped myself."

"You should have told him!"

"But then he'd think I was sniffing him."

"You WERE sniffing him."

"You really don't get it do you?"

It would have been weird to say, right? I can't be sure because I always manage to get things like this wrong.

The other day during a conversation with someone I had met for the first time that day, I exclaimed "Wow! You're 44? I never would have thought that!" She looked a bit surprised, then asked me how old I had thought she was, to which I replied "um... like, 41?". She frowned, everyone else we were with laughed. I don't get it, I thought people liked to be told they look younger than they are?

Generally, I find the way other people think of things quite abnormal. Particularly things regarding the news and other current affairs.

Earlier today my father came rushing into my bedroom "Stephanie, there's 5 police cars in the road! Let's look out of your window" and my reaction was "meh, if you want". There's always people getting arrested or murdered somewhere outside, I don't see why I should look. If, however, there had been a man with an interesting hat or an dog with a handsome face, I would have looked. They're nice things to see, things that you can't read about in a newspaper everyday, yet most people don't think this is worth looking at.

I liked the Royal Wedding being in the papers because it was so beautiful and happy and exciting! I didn't believe it would ever be over - it just seemed like a constant, then it happened and we were all "WOW!" and now it's gone and we're like "hmm... ooh look, someone just got stabbed and we're all going to be killed by terrorists - AWESOME!"

I am aware of these things, but I can't help thinking it's best not to get too excited about them, just ask yourself if there's anything you can do to help, if not, move on. Bad things are always going to happen, but people making lots of money from it and obsessing over other people's misery doesn't seem right to me.

Or maybe I'm the one with the abnormal view of the world?

Shhhhhhh

Somebody down the road has one of those tree mashing things. You know, it's a sort of machine that you feed a substantial lump of tree into one end then receive a squashy-lumpy-barky sort of thing from the other end. I am not too sure *why* the people down the road have said contraption, or why they think that now is the appropriate time to use it, but I do know that it is making a noise.

The noise sounds like this: " ;;;!;!:!:;;;nnngggg;;;;{{{{!!!!!!{{{{?????clunk////////nnnnggg/,,,,,,." (and repeat)

But that's okay, I'm cool with that. Probably because that is a pretty accurate description of how the whole of today has sounded. From the very first noisy little bastard bird shouting it's head off through my window at 4 o'clock this morning to the stopclickingyourpenoriwillstabyouintheeye anger in maths to the "PLEASE. CEASE. BLOWING. YOUR. NOSE" desperation on the bus coming home - today has been one long head-achey, irritable chain of Stephanie-hasn't-had-enough-sleep-ness.

My day started with an early-morning Latin class. Everything about that sentence upsets me. I then had to face an after-school Latin class. There are few worse things to sandwich a day between than 10 girls reciting verb conjugations and questions about The Death of Germanicus. More and more often, I find myself wondering what was wrong with me when I decided taking Latin GCSE, in one 6th of the recommended time, was a good idea. (Although, the word "gerundives" never fails to bring a smile to my face)

My point is, that some days you should be allowed to wear headphones constantly, and listen to something beautiful, like Elbow, or maybe Fleet Foxes.

"I do realise this is a Heston Blumenthal recipe," I say, taking a pretzel out of the cupboard and biting into it, "but is that leg of lamb supposed to be on fire?"

"FUCK" 

"That's a 'no', then?"

---

Today I have dressed as minnie mouse and moved slowly through the house, thoughtfully reading a play and occasionally eating biscuits. My Father, on the other hand, having been instructed to decorate the exterior of the house has, well... decorated the exterior of the house, whilst my mother has dug up the flower beds in the front garden, wearing a ridiculously oversized sun hat and her pyjamas. 

At the same time, the family across the road have participated in the most competitive egg hunt I have ever witnessed. For 2 hours, I observed toddlers being cheered on, praised and berated by their overly enthusiastic parents as they raced from the tree with the bird feeder in to the front doorstep before finally lifting the newspaper on the garden table to find yet another chocolate encased in foil. At one point, I definitely saw one pensioner point her grandson in the direction of the next prize and although I considered reporting them for foul play, I decided against it. Who am I to judge?

And finally, some art, that is not only relevant to the time of year, but edible. YUM:

Farm cake. Omnomnomnom.

HAPPY EASTER! 

Words and Music 2011

I find that often, it's the things you look forward to the least that you enjoy most.

I was positively dreading the Words and Music concert at my school on Thursday evening. I'm not going to say it was the best experience of my life. But it was okay, at least, not as bad as I had expected. 

Let me explain: every year my school has a Poet in Residence, some people go to workshops with them and write poems, these are then performed one evening alongside music composed and played by GCSE music students and anyone else who wants to join in. 

Being a geek, i was doing both some Words and some Music. Neither of which were very good. 

The evening was... long. But it gave me time to reflect on the fact I was actually quite lucky to be able to do it and in rehearsing for HOURS with my mental English teacher and my very stressed music teacher a confused-looking poet, i had actually learnt a lot.

This year, our Poet in Residence was Jay Bernard (here is her website). According to my mental English teacher she is "very very famous". I'm not sure about that. I'd never heard of her. However, that didn't detract from her awesomeness. 

About 15 of us spent 5/6 hours dotted across a few weeks writing poems, looking at poems, reading poems, making a mess cutting up magazines and gluing them to bits of of paper (no, I didn't get that bit either) and at the end of it, I feel like I know so much more about writing. Not that I would ever consider being a poet, but it was fun and pretty useful all the same. 

I feel really privileged to have been able to learn from someone who is so good at writing, so enthusiastic and positive and completely unpatronising. I wish more people i encounter had that sort of attitude towards young people.

A Blog? What?

Hello there, remember me?

My name is Stephanie, I'm 15 (AND A HALF) and I live near London. I will always live near London, the idea of living in the country is very nice until you really think about it, then it's terrifying.

When I'm a grown-up, i want to be an angel. Failing that, I would like to be a writer.

I write.

But I don't often let people read it. If you were particularly interested (stalkerish), you could read some of the boring crap I've written about pressing local 'issues' on the News Shopper website. Other than that, I've been almost silent since the start of this year.

Why? Because I'm tired of that horrific sentence...

"I read your blog"

*silence*

I'm fed up with these people then staring at me, REALLY staring at me, like they're struggling to stop their eyeballs actually crawling inside my head and having a good poke around in there.

It doesn't matter if you're some random from my RS class or my Aunt or my Dad or someone I see everyday on the bus but don't really talk to (because, seriously, you're one of the dullest humans I've ever met), I will have replied to these 4 words and intrusive mental scan with a blank expression and "oh.".

Here is what "oh" means:

Well done. You typed my name into the internet (like a pervert/somebody who has far too much time on their hands), did a bit of clicking about, probably found my twitter, then this. I'm not sure what else you want me to say, it's not a secret, I'm not ashamed of it, I wrote a blog because I wanted people to read stuff, it probably isn't aimed at you but go on, read it, comment on it if you like... just don't seem so surprised that it exists. I'm positively flattered that people read what I have to say - I don't waste my time with things I find boring (that probably includes your formspring/tumblr/other places where you write about your made-up sex life and post badly photoshopped photos of you and Justin Beiber)
I know it's shocking that I have thought of things, then written them. But, you know, I do think. I know I often have a vacant, starey look on my face, maybe it's because I think too much. If you asked me a question, you would get a response, I would express my opinions the same as I would on the internet. But you don't ask me, so I don't say anything. People who know me well, will know that I don't feel the need to talk unless there is something to be said. In all likelihood, I feel a conversation with you will detract from my day rather than enhance it.
Seriously, I'm not just the slightly-posh girl who spends her lunchtimes doing homework, who will, every day without fail, hit her head on the utterly pointless shelf in the form room, who doesn't like walking down a corridor on her own in case people look at her, who enjoys sitting at bus stops.
NO!
I am a slightly-posh, geeky, clumsy, paranoid, distant-looking girl WHO ALSO WRITES A BLOG.

So there.

Happy Communist Martyrs Day

Valentines day is rubbish.

It's a special day where people who are already happy because they have people that love them, are made to feel even happier and reminded that they are loved.

First of all, I disagree with special days that not everyone can join in with.

I also feel that the overuse of the 'heart' shape is quite vile. Please try to remember that it is representing the mushy, blood soaked squeezy thing that keeps people going and doesn't have very much to do with love at all. If you are going to use it to represent your feelings for someone else, at least have the decency to send them an actual heart, human or otherwise...

Furthermore, I think that if anyone deserves a day dedicated to making them feel happy and a bit smug, it is the people who don't feel loved by anybody every other day of the year. What sort of long term satisfaction will a person with lots of friends and a parter get from a box of over-priced chocolates and a bunch of flowers? Not much. But what will a very lonely person get from a hug and a reminder that there are people who care about them? A LOT.

Now, i'm really busy... so if someone else could organize that? Great, thanks.

In other, more exciting news - 314 days until Christmas!

12 months have gone already... where?!

Apparently 2010 didn't live up to people's expectations. I'm sorry, but what WERE people expecting? I thought, overall, the good days of 2010 outweighed the bad days by far and I had a very nice time.

Here are some of the things that made 2010 special:

Matilda.

This lot.

Paris.

iPhone. Nom.

V Festival (The most gorgeous photo of me ever taken - mostly just wearing other people's clothes)

A terrible play with the most amazing lovely funny kind talented cast.

So last year I made a list of everything I wanted to achieve in 2010, here's the updated version:

1) Learn to play the piano well. So that when i say "i can play the piano" i won't feel like a complete liar.

Well, i certainly improved. My piano teacher told me I could be "So talented, if only i put a bit more time into it". That made me both sad and happy.

2) Learn to like vegetables. and potatoes. so that i can go round to people's house for dinner without them wanting to murder me.

I like chips now, and jacket potatoes and I will eat aubergine without complaining.

3) Make my handwriting readable.

4) Cry less.

I think i managed this, i should really have bottled all my 2009 tears and all my 2010 tears and done a comparison. 

5) Make at least 5 new friends.

I made lots of new friends, at least 20 of them. And they're all brilliant.

6) Meet someone famous.

Erm... Does Boris Johnson count? 

7) Follow 116 new people on twitter.


So close, but forgot about this until New Years Eve - maybe I'll do this by the end of 2011?

8) Meet some more of the people i talk to on twitter.

I met the lovely Katcal and Regfrog and we went elephant hunting in London then spent hours in Victoria Station chatting. It was a most enjoyable day, even though it was so hot i thought my face was melting.
9) Spend less time on/thinking about twitter.

Look at that! Amazing!

10) Brush my hair more often... like, at least once a week.

I think I've managed this, my hair's shorter now anyway and I've stopped leaving the house looking a mess.

11) Smile at at least one random person each day.

People don't often feel like smiling back on a bus at 7 o'clock in the morning :(

12) Raise some money for charity.

Hell yeah! I've done a lot of volunteering this year, we raised £130 for Harris Hospice, I helped at a summer fair which made about £4000 for Help for Heroes and I helped Barry raise £250 for cancer research.

13) Get a new hamster.

14) Spend less money on music.

Discovered the joys of borrowing CDs rather than buying my own. 

15) Buy a new phone.

16) Read all of the books i got for Christmas.

17) Do my Latin homework. always... (although this one might have to start next week 'coz i *forgot* to take my Latin books home for Christmas)

I have my Latin GCSE in 5 months, I'm just a little bit terrified. 
18) Stop letting certain people be horrible to me.

2010 - The year I learnt to stand up for myself.

19) Stop being so concerned about my ugly face.

My brilliant cousin Em pointed out to me that nobody is looking at my face, they're all too concerned about themselves.

20) Write at least 1 blog a week.

Hmm... I wrote at least one blog a week but I didn't publish 4 of them. FAIL.

SO, 2011. What do I want to do this year? I think 2010 but with more glitter (and good exam results) would be a good place to aim for.

HAPPY NEW YEAR lovely blog readers. x