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.

I hear... Screaming

I'm not liking this whole November thing.

I am having enough difficulty finding the energy to have a conversation with my fellow humans at the moment let alone thinking up a readable blog.

However, earlier today someone said something and i thought, as i often do, about a TV show i saw when i was little. I think about this TV show a lot, i was really young when i saw it, i don't remember what chanel it was on or why i was watching it all i remember was that it was terrifying, i had never seen anything like it, i had nightmares for weeks and weeks and i still remember it as brilliantly terrifying. The only difference was that today, for the first time in years, i remembered the name of it - Are You Afraid Of The Dark.

So, obviously, the first thing i did was google it. They made 7 series of it! It's quite likely that someone reading this will also have seen it, i quickly found the episode i saw - it aired in 2000, i would have been 4.

I know people say you should re-watch things you saw when you were young because it will ruin it but i HAD to watch it.

Here it is, if you have a spare 25 minutes http://www.megavideo.com/?v=XENJUHG7

WELL, it was actually quite creepy, i mean, it's really cheesy and probably won't give me nightmares but i enjoyed it (perhaps not as much as i did when i was 4).

I think maybe that was what started my strange fascination with the disturbing. I remember when i was about 7, my dad showed me a website with short films on and i would spend my evenings glued to the computer screen watching half an hour long obscure horror films and i LOVED them, programmes like the Mighty Boosh (not really horror, but a bit odd) and psychoville make me laugh more than anything else and Stephen King is one of my absolute favourite authors.

And I really want to go to the Hunterian Museum in London but nobody will go with me.

On a completely unrelated note - Anonymous commenter - I love the playlist a lot. Thank you. x

*sigh*

I need help.

I'm going to tell you something, you mustn't think i'm a freak, and don't say i'm being silly - that's what everyone else does.

I'm really really tired.

I go to bed at 10.30/11 and wake up at 6 every day. That's quite a healthy amount of sleep isn't it?

But the thing is, for the last two or three months, i've been having such ridiculously vivid dreams. They're not nightmares, just bad dreams, not with flying goats and trains that can talk, just the people i know in everyday life. That's the worst bit - they're so believable. They always put me in awful situations where i'm stressed and nervous and everything seems to be going as badly as it possibly could.

Then i wake up. Often, i wake up crying, which is a pretty rubbish start to the day. And i swear i'm more tired than i was before i went to sleep. Even though i know it was a dream, i still feel scared and shaky for the rest of the day. The dreams are so detailed and accurate that it's hard to believe they're not real.

I remember exactly when it started, I was at my Grandparents' house at the beginning of the summer holidays and one night i had this dream, it was actually a really nice dream but i was so shocked by the detail i could remember that the next day i wrote it down. It filled 12 A4 pieces of paper, and pretty much every night since then i've had another dream. They were quite pleasant at first but they seem to be getting more horrible.

And i don't know what to do... it's definitely having a major effect on my ability to concentrate in school and even when i'm really happy and having a good time, these stupid dreams are always at the back of my mind.

What can i DO??

It's My Birthday And I'll Be A Miserable Bitch If I Want To

People keep reminding me that it's nearly my birthday, every time they do this, i cry a little bit inside.

I realised that i didn't enjoy birthdays at all on my 10th birthday. It wasn't great, it really wasn't great, i'm not about to list all the events that made it bad but I remember sitting on the floor with my then 7 year old cousin crying because i wasn't opening my present fast enough, thinking "the sooner this is over, the better." The next 4 Birthdays have all ended in tears.

My friends and family all make a huge effort to make it nice, and i do appreciate it. But the most important word in that statement is definitely "effort". It takes so much effort; when i'm older i don't want my birthday to be acknowledged at all, there's so much pressure on you to have fun, there's this horrible stuffy feeling of fake happiness coming from everyone and it makes me want to smash things. But smashing things is not allowed, because "everyone's made so much EFFORT for you."

I don't want it.

The other night, as i was being told by my father that i need to be "more cooperative - your mother's very stressed about your birthday" (she thinks SHE'S stressed?!) i found myself blurting out, "can we not? could we just pretend it isn't happening? couldn't you just leave my birthday present at the end of my bed in the night then can we pretend like it's a normal day?"

"no, this means a lot to your mother"

I've been saying for the last 2 weeks that i don't want a birthday cake, it's a waste of cake - other than my parents i don't really have anyone to share it with. However, this isn't allowed either. I don't like chocolate cake (well, i do but it's complicated), i don't like butter-icing or icing that's made from icing sugar and i don't like cake that has to be eaten with a fork. After much pestering i replied that i'd like a cake with white icing and butterflies on (it was the only reasonably priced one i would have eaten) But Waitrose can't make it by my birthday. So now it looks like i'm going to have to make my own cake... a cake that i don't even want... it's not quite the same.

Birthday parties - i hate them. I'm being pressured from every direction as to what i will "do" for my birthday. I don't want to "do" anything. But i was reminded again, this isn't about me, it's about everyone else - something has to be "done". This particular issue has not yet been resolved, i'm hoping people will forget about it.

I sound ungrateful, i know. I don't mean to, but it's like walking off the edge of a cliff, when it has resulted in tears every time someone attempts it, surely a sensible person would say "you know what, lets not try this again."

Like a magpie, I live for glitter not you.

First day of school. I woke up feeling cold and unhappy, i had a pain in the back of my skull. I rolled out of bed, still wrapped in my duvet and did a few feeble sit-ups. This was pretty much as good as the day was going to get.

People keep asking me what's wrong. I actually wasn't aware that i looked so miserable but apparently i have a look on my face similar to that of a puppy who's been locked outside in the rain. Although that would make sense, for that is pretty much how i feel.

I didn't see many people this summer and i'm not sure what happened to them... but something definitely happened. When did they all get so pretty?

Everyone's tall with dyed hair and suntans. New hair cuts and make up and nicely painted nails and an explosion of confidence and arrogance. Even the strange people, the proper geeks and the complete freaks look nice, and they know it.

I stood there in registration, clinging onto my new Hello Kitty notebook for comfort, shuffling uncomfortably in my Clarks shoes with buckles (i didn't chose them - i had no say whatsoever in the matter) and wondering (hoping) if it would actually be possible to go all year without being noticed at all.

Lunchtime, conversation turned to holidays and boys and new hairstyles and how many times people got drunk during the holidays. But mostly just boys. I sat, reading my Harry Potter book, half listening to my iPod, half listening to their conversation and wondering when it was that they all left me behind.

I was staring at some new year 7s today and though it is quite funny looking at their terrified little faces, i do feel sorry for them because i remember exactly what it was like to be surrounded by new people, feeling like you have to prove yourself to them. If i'm honest, i feel exactly the same as they do, except that i know where most of the classrooms are and i'm not scared of the teachers. I told you how good the last few weeks of term were, remember? School was such a nice place to be because after spending 3 whole years with these people we all knew eachother, we were (mostly) all friends and everything fit into place.

But now it's all changed. And as i established last week, i hate change. It scares me.

Everyone seems so... grown up. At least, they think they seem grown up. I don't, i feel baffled, maybe my brain isn't used to taking so much stuff in in one day or maybe they really are very different people to what they were 6 weeks ago but i wish they'd just stop it, either that, or i wish i could feel grown-up and confident too. Because at the moment i'm simply feeling very left out.

I Love Mad People

I need to tell you about the amazing man i met today.

Right, imagine the scene, i'm in Glastonbury. In a shop. I'm not sure what it was called but it sold jewellery and windchimes and little statues and scented candles and other stuff. There was no one else in the shop except for the man behind the counter, i don't know his name, he had a beard. It smelt strongly of something, i don't know what, but it was making me feel a bit sleepy.

Man - "Good Evening" (it was about two o'clock in the afternoon)

Me - "Oh, hello"

Man - *signals for me to come a bit closer, leans towards me as if he was going to tell me a secret* "Are you a fairy?"

Me - "erm... yes." (well, what else could i have said?)

"Fantastic! There aren't many of us left now days, i just knew, i just knew, i could tell as soon of you walked into the shop."

"mmm, yes. So... you're a fairy too?"

"Of course! of course... are you a fairy princess?"

"erm... yes" (i was starting to feel VERY awkward by now)

"Amazing! Of course you are! i just knew... i could just tell! you have that look about you, my wife was also a princess... she's dead now though." *grabs my hand, kisses it* "an honour to meet you!"

*nervous laughter* "yes, you too"

"Are you from Scotland?"

"No, London."

"Ah yes, yes, i always get those accents mixed up"

"And you're from Glastonbury?"

"Yes... i've always been here, it's the best place for the likes of us. I should like to go to London one day but i think it may be a little too far to walk"

I started to say something about driving or getting a train but i stopped myself. Then we stood there for a few second, staring at eachother.

"I think i have to go now"

"Of course, of course, it was lovely meeting you. Would you like a bracelet?"

"I don't really have enough money"

"No! Take it, take it for free! There's no charge for my fellow fairies"

"Oh thank you"

"Goodbye! Send my greetings to the fairies of Scotland"

"Bye"

He was awesome.

Easter Sunday.

This is a blog. But not really. What it really is, is some exciting (and not so exciting) things that i did, some stuff that i noticed and some pictures. The next few blogs will probably also be like this, i went to my Grandparents and had a smashing time and i'm sure (well, i'm hoping) that you missed me, so, here's what i got up to.

Sunday.

I'm sure every time i go there, my Grandparents get weirder. and sweary-er.

After a morning of nothing-muchness, we decided to go to the sea side in the afternoon. So, we went to Watchet.

The first thing we saw was a steam train, it was green, and very pretty. It was like Emily from Thomas The Tank Engine... you know, the Scottish one?... ok, only me then.

I waved at the driver and he waved back. That was brilliant!

We walked along by the harbour and saw lots of boats. You probably don't know this, but i like boats, they're definitely the most exciting mode of transport and a lot of them are really pretty.

This statue has the scariest face i have ever seen.

More boats, these aren't real though, they were for sale in the post office.

The Watchet museum, inside i found this picture which both terrifies me and fascinates me.

Apparently, The Rhyme Of The Ancient Mariner was inspired by the town. And they really like to make sure you know. This statue was one of MANY of the ancient mariner.

Random Fact - I am not a fan of The Rhyme Of The Ancient Mariner. I once had to memorise this bit and it's still taking up a significant chunk of my brain space -

All in a hot and copper sky,

The bloody sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.

About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue, and white.

And some in dreams assured were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.

And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.

Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung."

Next, it was time for ice cream.

I had cappuccino flavour. It was yummy!

Seconds after i took this picture, the ice cream flew off the cone. but somehow, i caught it. It was very impressive, if i do say so myself.

Finally, i saw this

This is my grandparents' biggest local radio station, Quay West fm.

It was about 3 when we left Watchet, it should have been pretty easy to get home, BUT, my Grandad took the wrong turning and we got rather lost. 2 hours and 95 miles of driving down scary lanes, that's how lost we were.

After a while, we were very high up some sort of hill/mountain thing so we decided to use Wales as a reference point. Wales was to my left. Everything was fine, we continued driving down a straight road when suddenly, there was a tunnel of trees, five minutes later, we'd past the trees, but... "Oh GOD! Where's Wales??" Everything to my left is grass and this freaky red soil, i look to my left and to my relief, see Wales. But then it hits me. THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE!! I know that we didn't turn around, the road was straight, how can a whole country move? I'm no good at Physics but i know the world doesn't work like that! It's still confusing me now!

After we'd been lost for just over an hour, i suggested that we ask the next person we saw for directions. Well, there are some... "interesting" people in Somerset at the best of times but there, surrounded by empty fields, miles and miles from any habitation, there was no one. No one, except for one woman, we spotted her about 10 minutes after i suggested that. She was wearing a red tracksuit and a green anorak and had grey hair. She was standing by the side of the road and staring out, past the trees, to the sea. She didn't look at us when we stopped, in fact, i'm not sure if she looked at us at all, she might have just kept on staring.

"Hello" said my Grandad.

"Hello" said the woman.

"Could you possibly give us directions to Taunton, please?"

"No."

"Oh... well then, how long is this road?"

"This road, this road is very long."

"Yes, but where does it end?"

"This road never ends."

"Oh. Ok. Thanks for you help" *drives away very very quickly*.

The road did end. much much later. I'm beginning to wonder if she wasn't also a normal person once. Maybe, just like us, she took a wrong turning and got lost, but unlike us, gave up and has been standing there, by the side of that road, ever since.

Now THAT'S something to think about...

Happy Birthday

I'm bored.

Like really really bored, i've been feeling like this for the past two or three weeks. Nothing exciting has happened. I'd been looking forward to half term for ages and it wasn't that great.

It's not that i don't have enough to do, i have so much to do. I don't really have time to be writing this even, i do at least one thing everyday after school and almost every lunchtime in school. Then there's the extraordinary amount of homework and revision i've got, but i'm still feeling so completely useless.

I don't know... bored with life just sounds so dramatic and miserable, pretentious teenagerish... oh. um... yeah... moving swiftly on...

I'm just bored with what my life is at this moment.

I need something ELSE to do. But i don't really have much time. Every free moment i have recently seems to have been spent talking to the cat or drawing pictures of squirrels (yes, i've drawn a worrying amount of these).

There was a time, just under a year ago when twitter took up an awful lot of my brain space, arguably too much -i still like it, but it's not quite as good anymore, it really upsets me that some people don't talk to eachother anymore and some people have left twitter completely and some people i used to talk to loads have unfollowed me.

But I'm not just writing this to complain - and if i were you reading this i'd probably want to hit me for being selfish and stupid - no, i want your advice: I need something else to use up all the spare corners of my brain. Another hobby or something, something that doesn't take too much time and something that won't cause me to hate myself if i fail at it. something that helps someone else...? Or something that would be incredibly useful in my future...? Anything.

This Terrified Look...

Parents evening. The most dreaded evening of the year?

The one time when the people who boss you about and constantly tell you you're not good enough at school meet those who boss you about and constantly tell you you're not good enough at home.

Teachers have 5 minutes to sum up a whole year of hard work and not so hard work and too short skirts and make-up and too much talking and not enough talking and staring into space and missing maths books and "disappointing" test scores and non existent pieces of homework and "target minimum grades"... how are you supposed to express all that in 5 minutes?! actually... i'll take that back, i've managed to express it all in 1 paragraph.

However, i have learnt that most teachers chose to ignore these subjects completely, instead they like to bring up "issues" that really, don't need to be brought up in front of my parents. They just do it because they assume you aren't going to shout at them and leave the room when you're sitting next to your parents. Cowardly Idiots.

Our first appointment was with my Latin teacher, Miss C who is so delightfully mental, i
think probably deserves a blogpost of her own. Well today she suggested i learn Romanian... ?!! i'm having enough trouble with Spanish and French and Latin as it is thank you... i don't know any Romanian people. i'm not even that sure where Romania is?...

oh. there it is.



anyway, where was i?

Oh yes.

There did seem to be a "theme" running through all of the teacher's opinions of me.

"this terrified look"...

"she sits there silently, looking completely terrified or staring into space."

At least 3 of my teachers said those EXACT words.

Maybe the staring into space bit is true, and the silent bit. But i don't look terrified, this is my normal facial expression. Do i look permanently petrified?

Also, i am pretty sure a teacher shouldn't describe a student as "a panicky little bundle of nerves". Even if it IS true...

Another thing i learnt today is that my English teacher actually spies on me. He mentioned a conversation he overheard me having with my friend at the train station yesterday morning. He really shouldn't have been listening should he?

I'm not going to complain though, he was one of the two teachers who said something vaguely nice about me. He said i was the best student in year 9 with A-level knowledge of English. And that was the first time my mother has been proud of me in about 3 years. And that was nice.

Was there a point to this blog? Have i made it yet? Who knows...

Strange Men (again)

If you've followed me on Twitter for a while, or if you know me in real life, you'll probably know that it doesn't take a lot to scare me/make me very very paranoid.

Last Saturday i was standing outside Waitrose in Lymington, waiting for my parents to finish shopping. I was listening to my iPod, staring into space and trying not to notice how cold it was (i'd been an idiot and not worn a coat).

I watch a man come out of the shop, stare at me then disappear back into Waitrose. This was weird, but i forgot about it, he probably forgot something and was staring at me in a sort of "she must be mad, she's not wearing a coat, she'll probably get pneumonia and die" sort of way.

Then, about 10 minutes later, the man comes back out of the shop, hands me a bunch of pretty white flowers and says "these are because you're so beautiful" then quickly walks away.

Is there anything much more terrifying than that?? I was scared and embarrassed, apparently i went red. I never go red, not when i'm embarrassed, not when i've run 1500m, never! The last time my face was any colour other than it's normal pale yellowish, i had scarlet fever.

My parents thought it was hilarious, i didn't.

WHY?! i'm most definitely not beautiful (i'm actually having problems spelling beautiful - that's right... yes?) i'm not going to say i'm ugly because i'm scared about getting hit round the face with a dead fish. But i am.

The man was about 40... he was with his wife! (i assume she was his wife).

Why did he do that?? Is he some sort of mental person? Was is a cruel joke? Is he a spy?!

The flowers were pretty though.

Most of them have died now, but i've put the still alive ones in an improvised "vase".




I'm not complaining. I just want answers.

Turtles and Sticky Situations

"Behold the turtle; he only makes progress when he sticks his neck out"

That's what my calendar is telling me today. I may have said before, but my calendar is one of the smartest people i know. Everyday, he shares a little of his wisdom as well as an interesting fact that always makes me go "Oh! i NEVER knew that!". For example, did you know that today in 1977, Queen Elizabeth II visited Northern Ireland for the first time in 11 years? I bet you didn't know that, did you? Once you have a lovely little fact like that, you can use it in conversation, not only does it impress people but it sometimes baffles them (to your advantage), it is also a very very good awkward silence filler. I know, it's a lot to take in, so i'll give you some examples:

Eg. 1

(there was some conversation before this - it would be weird otherwise)

..."Yes, my dog used to do that all the time when he was a puppy"

"Oh, that's nice, what's your dog called?"

"Francis... He's dead now."

"I'm very sorry to hear that!"

"It's ok, he was a horrible little thing so i shot him."

*very long and awkward silence*

You: "Did you know that today in 1977, Queen Elizabeth II visited Northern Ireland for the first time in 11 years?"

Eg. 2

"Stephanie, you STILL haven't found your maths book?"

"erm... no"

"have you even looked for it?"

"err...well... did you know that today in 1977, Queen Elizabeth II visited Northern Ireland for the first time in 11 years?"

"really, i NEVER knew that!"

See, my random facts have got me out of many a sticky situation.

Anyway, my point is (yes, this does actually have a point)... i like my calendar very very much. where did i get it? i stole it from my father's desk. which proves that stealing is probably a good thing.

(actually, that wasn't my point, i went to eat dinner just after i wrote "i like my calendar very..." and when i came back, i'd completely forgotten what i was going to say)

also, do you like that turtle picture? he's called George, he's 70 and lives in Ras Mohammed. i met him, he's awfully nice :)