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

Untitled

You know when something bad happens, i don't mean like the cat eating the Christmas turkey or something you've been looking forward to being cancelled because of the damn snow, i mean something really horribly bad. When all you can do is sit and cry and think 'why's this happening? Why my family, my friends? this isn't fair!'

I think there's only a certain amount of times you can feel like this, especially in a relatively short space of time. So it gets to the point when something else dives head-first onto the massive pile of things you're carrying round, you put your head on your desk for a minute or two, consider feeling sorry for yourself, then wipe your nose and think "fuck it, we've dealt with shit before, we can do it again, you've learnt that crying does nothing other than make things soggy and irritate your eczema, get on with it".

So I'm getting on with it.

And that's what i've learnt these last few days.

I Hit My Head On A Shelf

It's been a long day. Actually, it's been a long week.

A long month.

I am very very tired. But also rather over-excited.

I had a bit of a break down in Physics today. I couldn't quite get my brain around the whole stupid idea of the earth moving.

The earth moves at 18 miles per second. BUT I AM SITTING STILL.

My Physics teacher was going on about trains - if you jump up on a moving train, you land in the same place. apparently. I don't believe this and i won't until I've seen some proof, surely, SURELY you will land a bit further back than you were originally standing. No?

It resulted in me standing up and shouting "Don't even TRY to tell me that somebody standing still is travelling at the same speed as somebody in a car going 150 miles an hour!" Then bursting into tears. It was quite bad.

If someone would like to explain this to me... possibly with some diagrams, i'd be very very grateful.

In other news, I'm going to see Tim Minchin at the O2 tomorrow. I'm ever so excited!

My Day.

Hey, you know what I'm going to do?

I'm going to choose a town with pretty bad transport links.

I'm going to choose a very tall and inaccessible hill in this town.

This hill must - 1) go up and down a lot. 2) be at least a mile from the nearest train station. 3) have pretty reckless drivers living nearby.

I'm going to go to the top of this hill - where there is a wood - *obviously* (complete with dog shit and flashers)  and i'm going to build something there...

But what shall I build? A prison? (i mean, it would be pretty hard to escape!) a mental asylum? (ditto) maybe some offices?

NO!

I've got it! A school!

Should we open this school for the local children, i hear you ask?

NO!

Let's make it so that girls from various places across the borough and even central London can commute here!

Hooray! What i good idea! I can see no flaws in this plan at all.

Snow? Ice? What on earth do you mean? I have never heard of these before in my life...

-_-

That is all.

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

Panic.

Panic Attack: n. The sudden onset of intense anxiety, characterized by feelings of intense fear and apprehension and accompanied by palpitations, shortness of breath, sweating, and trembling. Also called anxiety attack.

I've panicked about things before, trembling a little, feeling short of breath and a bit dizzy, it's inconvenient and a little scary. But not terrifying. 

I can tell you what is terrifying...

Let me set the scene for you:

It's about 10.30 on Friday night in Paris, it's raining outside but you don't know that, you're curled up on the floor of Chateau D'Eau metro station hyperventilating, sobbing and shaking. Your eyes are closed because everything is spinning. Crowded round you are 20 other girls and several drunk and/or homeless French people and they're STARING. Kneeling next to you is a concerned yet very awkward language teacher. You wish they'd stop staring. You feel like you are going to die. Somebody puts their hand on your shoulder and you retch, in that moment you thank every God that you don't really believe in that you'd had the sense not to eat anything that day - there are very few things that could make this situation worse, one of them being throwing up. 

Basically, it wasn't nice. It was traumatic and embarrassing and I'm finding it hard to write about it.

I've always been a little bit claustrophobic, but only a little bit. Underground trains in London don't bother me very much at all and I have honestly never been so frightened by anything before.

It started when we got on the metro after dinner, it was quite crowded and i was squished in the middle of a lot of people. It was uncomfortable and I began to shake, at every stop more and more people got on, there wasn't room for them but they kept getting on. It was awfully unpleasant, I was shaking quite a lot by this point. But then something else happened, two angry French people started shouting at each other quite close to where I was standing, the shouting turned to pushing the punching, they were having a full on fight and there really wasn't room for it. I was so squashed, I thought i was suffocating, everything was blurry, I could only hear people screaming and shouting and swearing in French. My legs gave way but we were so tightly packed into the stupid train that I didn't fall, I just stayed wedged between two people I didn't know. We were so close to our stop but someone had pressed the emergency button and we weren't going anywhere. I actually can't remember between then and when we reached the station and people began to move, someone (i later found out it was one of my friends) noticed me, grabbed me by my coat and dragged me out of the door where I fell onto the platform. 

I don't know how long I sat there for, It could have been a very long time, It could have been just 5 minutes and I don't remember anything else until a lot later that evening.

It might not sound that bad to you but it was, it was one of the worst experiences of my life. We had to go on the metro what felt like a thousand other times over the weekend and it didn't get much better. Although I could mostly get over myself once we got out of the station and onto the street, I think I cried more times over the weekend that I ever have done before. One of the teachers told me I was really brave, I didn't feel brave, I felt stupid and irritated at myself for not being about to do something simple that everyone else could do so easily. I was so scared of throwing up that I didn't eat between Friday morning and Monday evening - I'm not sure if that made the situation better or worse, all I know is that I'll be very happy if I never go on the metro ever ever again. 

It was one of those times where everything that could possibly go wrong did go wrong for our relatively small group of 30 students and 3 teachers, we made this list:

• missing trains
• people forgetting passports
• people getting left behind at St Pancras
• delaying Eurostar
• lost luggage
• not enough hotel rooms booked
• breaking windows
• getting surrounded by scary men in an alleyway before the French teacher came and chased them away
• people getting lost on their own in Paris
• allergic reactions
• two people throwing up EVERYWHERE
• asthma attacks
• panic attacks *ahem* 
• stolen money/phones
• one of the teachers stepping in unnatural amounts of dog poo
• lost metro tickets and passports

I think we were cursed. But I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the trip, because I really did, I made new friends and learnt so many new things, had opportunities to do things I'd never get to do or even think about doing otherwise. The teachers were supportive and caring and everyone was so lovely to everyone else, we all became so close and without the bad stuff it wouldn't have been nearly as funny and exciting and memorable. I don't regret going one bit, I loved all of it... well, most of it. 

I Write Poems For The Sheep, I'm Sure They Enjoy Them.

Happy National Poetry Day!

I wrote a poem today, it's a bit shit:

I Am Very Bothered

I am very bothered when I thinkof the bad things I have done in my life.

Not least that time when i was 6 

we were by the sea, playing in the surf,

laughing with me,

I grasped your hand, swore never to let go

before sinking my teeth deep into your flesh.

O the chilling scream of a wounded boy

your blood slid over your wrist and down my chin.

Sharp little teeth and an evil grin. Scarred.

An everlasting memory.

I’d be lying if i said sorry

as it gave me such delight 

eyes flooded with your plight

and just that once, the only think you could think of...

was me.

You may have noticed that it is based on my favourite poem by Simon Armitage. When I say "based on", i mean copied.

When i was little, this was my favourite poem:

Missing

Has anybody seen my mouse?

I opened his box for half a minute,

Just to make sure he was really in it,

And while I was looking, he jumped outside!

I tried to catch him, I tried, I tried....

I think he's somewhere about the house.

Has anyone seen my mouse?

Uncle John, have you seen my mouse?

Just a small sort of mouse, a dear little brown one,

He came from the country, he wasn't a town one,

So he'll feel all lonely in a London street;

Why, what could he possibly find to eat?

He must be somewhere. I'll ask Aunt Rose:

Have you seen a mouse with a woffelly nose?

He's just got out...

Hasn't anybody seen my mouse? 

Another favourite is this one: 

It pleased my greatly today when i had the opportunity to say to a year 7 "stop doing that or i'll cut your fucking feet off and while you lay there bleeding i'll use your feet... to kick you in the head." I think i might have scared her.

*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??

"Pictures Of Last Night Ended Up Online... I'm Screwed"

Birthday = done.

I'm 15 now. That feels quite old. I feel like i should be hanging round in shopping centres with my hood up, spitting at people. I won't... but i could.

I must say, despite everything, this was a very very nice birthday. The nicest for a long time.

My friends were very sweet, buying me starbucks hot chocolate and giving it to me on the bus, making me really pretty birthday cards and giving me a strange yet completely perfect selection of presents. Including: a Jedward poster (which i'm not allowed to put up), DVDs of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and The Lovely Bones, CDs, a book, a LOT of chocolate and cute stationary. And bubbles.

Oh yes... and i got an iPhone. EEK!

I love it. I can never ever get signal... but i still love it.

I had a party on Friday, we ate pizza and played on Wii Just Dance and generally had a good time. I decided this would be the perfect opportunity to play with the camera on my iPhone. I made this, enjoy:





Um... that's it.

Call All You Want But There's No One Home

This year, i have asked for an iPhone for my birthday. This shouldn't come as a surprise to you, i have been asking for an iPhone every birthday for the last 3 years, only difference is, this year there's actually a chance i may get one.

Firstly, because i don't have a phone that works at the moment. I have a phone but it sort of... melted. I left it in the car on a really sunny day in April or May and yeah... not only is the plastic casing slightly deformed, text messages come through whenever they feel like it and even when they do, they don't often open. You have to hit it hard against a wall if you want the camera to work and it sometimes gets annoyed and just turns itself off.

Secondly because this year i used my greatest tactic to get this phone:

It started in August when my mother asked me what i wanted for my birthday, it went a bit like this:

"What do you want for your birthday?"

"Umm.... a pony?"

"Don't be silly, where would you keep a pony?"

"in the shed?"

"Think of something else, something sensible."

"A puppy?"

"No, we have four cats"

"A kitten?"

"I just said, we already have FOUR cats."

"ferret?"

"No."

"Chickens?"

"NO!"

"Geese?"

"NO! NO LIVESTOCK!! There MUST be something else you want!?"

*sigh* "i don't know... maybe... an iPhone?"

"FINE." *leaves room*

I'm not saying something as silly and as materialistic as an iPhone would make my life better, but you know... it definitely will make my life better.

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."

I Have Fingerprints On My Glasses.

I've been too busy to write a proper blog, instead here's something else i wrote:

Desk

It was my idea to paint my desk white. With retrospect, it probably wasn’t a great idea. I love my desk, not only is an object of great beauty and practicality (my father built it for me several years ago to fit in perfectly with my room and my life), it is my space, the central point of my being. If i am at home, i am sitting at my desk, writing, drawing, listening to music or simply thinking. This constant use has, inevitably, caused it to show it’s age. Beneath the general clutter of books, folders, stationery, tea-cups and make up, the white wood is a little grubbier than ever before. scratches, coloured pencil marks, ink spills and cat paw prints tarnish the once beautiful pure white surface.  Each nail varnish splash and mascara mark hold memories of the parties i spent hours getting ready for, each pencil sharpening and eraser rubbing is the memory of a piece of artwork created and every dent a bitter reminder of my temper being lost. It’s shocking really, when i manage to keep every other corner of my life tidy, organised and streamlined that my desk should look as if it’s been raided by several blindfolded toddlers. Sometimes i attempt to tidy my desk, usually if someone is due to enter my room, i sweep the debris away like an unpleasant secret, it doesn’t last for long though, within minutes of it being clean and empty, objects begin piling up again. If something is lost, the first place you should check is my desk, the chances are it will be there, beneath a pile of papers or next to a discarded slice of carrot cake.

A Letter To Someone.

You know who you are. I'm not going to get into an argument with you over this internet like this, it's stupid and childish. But you started it.

I'm fed up, I don't know what you want from me, i don't have enough time for you? well that's new... Have you EVER come to speak to me? In fact, have you put any effort into this friendship at all?

It doesn't take a genius to work out that things have been awkward recently. But i'm bored of avoiding talking about it altogether, and it appears that you are too, although you don't have the guts to tell me to my face.

So, I have new friends now? You do too. Are you JEALOUS? of me? because i'm happy? i spend time with people i enjoy being with and who enjoy being with me. I'm not going to listen to you anymore, every friendship i've had in the past you've managed to ruin for me, claiming they were "bullying you" or that "a friend" told you they were horrible. We both knew they were lied but i guess i didn't have the confidence to stand up to you then.

Why can't you accept that i'm happy? Is it because you're NEVER happy? i worry about you, i honestly do, is there something wrong with everything you do/own? You're really lucky, i wish you'd realise that, i wish you'd realise that your life is actually quite nice.

You may have changed, but i doubt it, i've known you for long enough to realise that although you can put on a front for people, you're probably bitching about them behind their back. I've listened to you express your real feelings about people for years. Or are they your real feelings? I don't know, i can't work it out...

There's a lot of things i can't work out. Why did i apologise to you so many times? Why was i so scared of you? Why have i spent a significant amount of my life worrying about what you will say?

Do you know that there are some things, things from years ago that i actually can't bear to think about because they still upset me? Did you even realise they'd upset me at the time?

I want to be friends with you, i really do, you make me laugh and i like spending time with you but i'm not going to apologise for a thousand things i haven't done. I don't need to any more, you no longer have the power to make my life hell.

Talk to me in person... or don't talk to me at all.

x

You tell me too many things. There's too many things in here. They keep falling out of my ears.

I'm not good at staying focused. I daydream. A lot. Yesterday i was so deep in my daydreaming at the bus stop that my bus stopped, opened the doors, waited, closed the doors and had begun to drive away before i realised that i should probably have got on it.

It seems that this year, most of my teachers particularly enjoy making us sit in alphabetical order. This means in most lessons i am sitting next to the same people. Lets call them G and S (to protect their identity, also because i'm not sure how to spell S's name). G and S are very very boring, and grumpy, and have already made it very clear that they would rather not have anything to do with me. The plus side of this alphabetical order thing is that i'm sitting next to the window in almost all of my lessons. Awesome. Well, not very awesome if i actually want to pass these GCSEs.

I should never be allowed to sit next to the window if what's going on outside is a thousand times more interesting than what's going on inside. Which is pretty much always.

Here are some examples from recently-

Men standing on the school roof = more interesting than Chemistry.

Builders arguing about sand = more interesting than graphics.

Year 7s learning to play hockey on the field = more interesting than Physics.

Caretakers moving wheelie bins around = more interesting than IT.

Squirrel looking puzzled = more interested than French.

Blades of grass = more interesting than maths.

In fact, scratching my own eyeballs until they bleed = more interesting than maths.

Oh, and who put me in an accelerated maths group? I don't belong there. They won't let me leave. I asked to join another class but I "haven't given it a go yet". Has the whole world gotten together behind my back and decided to make me feel as awful and stupid as possible?

If you never play a song all the way to the end on Spotify, it never plays any adverts.

And i may have discovered a good thing about being horribly clumsy and having bad balance.

I smacked him in his face with an eraser, chased him with a stapler

I have written a blog before about people getting my name wrong. It's not a difficult name, Stephanie Ellen Friend, i'm sure you've all encountered those words before, maybe not in that exact order but you know what they mean.

 I understand it may be slightly confusing for some of you as my twitter name is StephanieEllen, whereas i would tell most people that my name is Stephanie Friend. The thing is, StephanieFriend as a Twitter name was already taken, and rather than having my name followed by numbers and letters and underscores (when are underscores ever used other than in internet names/email addresses?), i thought it would be simpler to just be "StephanieEllen". Ok? because a LOT of people from Twitter have asked me what my name actually is and what they should call me to my face.

I'm sorry for ranting at you but i've been thinking about my name a lot today, it started when my music teacher, who has taught me for the past 3 years, called me Jessica.

It was as we were waiting outside the hall to go into assembly, I was complaining to anyone who'd listen about the length of my skirt (i'd been told to unroll it by my head of year), when he walked past and, hearing my whining, said "I think it looks perfectly respectable at that length, Jessica".

My friend replied "did you just call her Jessica?"

"erm... no." Then he walked away, going very very red.

Then my biology teacher called me Caroline. It was as he was boasting that it was only the end of the first lesson and he already knew everyone's names.

"What's my name?"

"Caroline, of course!"

"No, it isn't"

"oh... what is it?"

"Stephanie"

"Can i call you Caroline?"

"I'd rather if you didn't"

The last incident occurred in English. My English teacher, who is more than a little bit strange, was taking the register when she got to my name.

"Stephanie Ellen Friend? That's an utterly delightful name!"

"mm... thank you."

"Do you enjoy your name?"

"errr..."

"I would love to own such a poetic name, it almost glows, doesn't it?"

"well, thank you."

"It is beautiful, you should do something with that name. Don't waste it."

I would quite like to know what it is should would like me to "do" with it...? Even though it's silly, her praise for my name did please me and it would seem that she now knows who i am. Every question she asked in the class, she directed towards me (presumably because she didn't want to make herself look like an idiot by getting other people's name wrong) and she seemed genuinely delighted with my answers. I can tell that's i'm gong to enjoy her lessons this year!