I've been trying to learn the constallations for ages, but I really need to look at the stars outside while referring to the chart. I had a dream that the stars in the sky were exactly the same as the chart, and I was wondering why the constallations in the sky had lines between them... It looked pretty cool though..A friend once told me that the reason some stars are so bright, its that they are in fact two stars tightly orbiting around each other, each making the other brighter. It's kind of romantic, don't you think?
Oh dear... I've seriously fallen behind with this... I didn't think it would be too hard to write 100 words a day, but really I should've known; the longest I've kept a diary going is two weeks. How I’m ever going to write 900 words today is beyond me, it feels like an essay.
If I can’t find 100 words to write a day, does that make my life too dull? Then again, about 90% of the populations’ lives are probably just as dull as mine. Either everyone has dull lives or dull is not what it used to be...
(I'm terrible at keeping up with this so days are completely random, and not at all in chronological order. Sorry.)Jet lag. Two words I hate. Coming back from China I tried to deny it. It seemed to work, but then I woke at two in the morning (possibly because I'd slept until 1pm the day before...).
I see jet lag as a weakness really. I mean, it's a plane journey; surely we humans can deal with that? I can go a night without sleeping with it making no difference, yet I’m still recovering from a flight 3 days ago...
I love the guy on University Challenge who gets REALLY excited when it gets really close. He says the name of the college who buzzed, and gets all excited, which makes me smile.I love hearing people make mistakes live on TV. The other day I was watching the cooking channel and the guy announced the next program half way through, and didn't even realise. It's even funnier when they realise and try to cover it up. Or when there’s a technical fault, and the announcer tries to cover up the silence with his/her interpretation of humour/ musings on life.
Driiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.... Crap. It’s a Tuesday morning. Cold, grey, and the fire drill’s gone off again. “Leave the classroom quickly and quietly” the teacher drones. So we leave the classroom slowly and noisily, not particularly wanting to spend the next fifteen minutes in the dreary English weather.
“Settle down year 11”. Some people shut up. Most don’t. The sound of chuckling dinner ladies is audible; the bell still droning on.
“Who started it?” people whisper. Noone started it. The teachers just like to watch us shivering on the muddy field.
Any teacher can start it. All they have to do is press a button on their laptop screens. Of course students do sometimes start it, but that’s only on the last week of term, or if there’s something special going on. Nothing special is going on. It’s just another cold Tuesday.A hyena-like guffaw erupts from the side of the field. It’s the dinner ladies again. At least for them it’s a nice interruption from making mashed potato. If only it was warm, and I couldn’t hear my teeth chattering (I’ve lost my jumper). At least the bell’s stopped ringing.
It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. Harold, however, was not. Harold was 42, single, and rather short. He lived in the garage at his parents and was contentedly discontented with his life. He’d had a wife, but it hadn’t gone well. He shudders at the memory. What Harold is in want of however, is a new shirt; he’s going to the dentist’s later.
Harold hasn't any friends. Why would one need friends? Friends require attention and care, and don’t usually give anything in return.
Harold had a friend when he was six, but he’d had nasal problems and this annoyed Harold.
Harold’s parents, on the other hand, did want him to get a wife. This annoyed him. What business was it of theirs anyway? It wasn’t Harold’s fault he lived with his parents. Houses were scarce nowadays, his job as senior supervisor of Barclays marketing simply didn’t pay enough for him to get one of the few houses available. He’d tried to get a loan, but his parents didn’t want it secured against their house, which was unfair, since he did the cleaning anyway.
As Harold slowly made his way towards the Chelmsford branch of Marks and Spencer he spotted a man named John, who worked at Barclays with him. John was an overly friendly 40 year old, married with two children, and possibly the most annoying man on the planet. Unfortunately, it appeared John had spotted him too. As John ambled over, waving his hand and beaming as if Harold was the last man on the planet, Harold sighed inwardly, knowing that he would have to give up on the idea of a new shirt.
Reading through my previous entries, I find myself cringing a bit. I find this rather worrying having written these only a month ago...I read today about some new craze in New York called 'Cringe Nights', where people reread their teenage diaries on stage. It sounds rather funny. It made me think I should keep a diary, but I don't think I'd have anything to write about really, and I don't think I could bear the cringing.
I always sound like I take myself really seriously when I write as well, which is the thing that makes me cringe.
I'm going to China tomorrow. I never really get too excited about things, but lately I've been really excited. Unfortunately, since yesterday I seem unable to muster up even slight enthusiasm which is somewhat worrying. Hopefully it will kick in at the airport. I'm not too optimistic.
The other night I dreamt I was in a junkyard surrounded by CCTV cameras. Probably a combination of too much 'Scrapheap Challenge' and the ridiculous number of CCTV cameras recently put up around our school, which, together with the ridiculous amount of fences, makes it look even more like a mental institute/ prison.
The word counter keeps playing up, so I always double check on Word. It doesn’t seem to mind if I use more than 100 words, but I ca not bring myself to test it; I don't want to disobey the rules. More than 100 words would feel wrong. I guess this sums up my attitude to life. It's also partly OCD.Isn't the world depressing sometimes? I wish they would report on the positives in life on the news for once.Oh, and happy 50th birthday to the M1. We truly choose the important things to celebrate in sunny England.
He’d always been called a bit of a dreamer. He wasn’t, he just never wanted to listen to people. People had nothing to teach him, they just talked about themselves anyway, and Harold didn’t want to hear their mundane little lives. His own dreary existence was enough for him, without having to listen to more. All he needed was the 10 o’clock news, and then that Jeremy Paxman bloke. He was a no nonsense sort of guy if ever you saw one. He was the sort of man Harold would listen to, not John droning on about the office party.
John eventually got the message, giving Harold a cheery goodbye. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all; He’d never given him much of a chance. It wasn’t that Harold thought himself better than people; on the contrary, he didn’t want to bother them with his plain, meagre existence. He’d nothing to give the world and the world had nothing to give him. After all, what was the point? All people seemed to do was invent ways to put a meaning to human life, because they couldn’t cope with being a tiny flea on life’s windscreen, waiting to be wiped off…
More door related literature.I place my hand on the cold, brassy handle,Push down,And the first thing I smell is the petrichor ofFresh earth. I breathe it inAnd am transported back to rainy England;Back to the lassitude that is my daily life.To the office, where I spend all dayWorking for a man I cannot stand.But then I hear my little daughter shout at me From the window,And I know life's ok.This was sort of inspired by The Office, and me thinking how I really wouldn't want to work in one.
Reading others' 100 words is like seeing into everyone's minds. It's fascinating. It's amazing to see how similar everyone is, and reassuring to see other people feeling the same way as I do. I've read people's philosophising, self doubting, having off days, having regrets... It's a bit worrying that no one seems to be really happy though! I feel happy today. I don't know why... A friend noticed today, and I hadn't really realised. But it's nice to know you are happy. It never lasts though... I seem to be more confident these days; again, I doubt it will last...
la la la la la laaaaala la la la laaa laaaCHICKEN! CHICKEN! (Repeat as wished...)I'm having chicken for dinner tonight, but what I really fancy is some pasta... Unfortunately, when I have pasta for dinner I find myself fancying chinese... It's sad I cannot be content with my dinner when the Africans are starving...I was surprised to find that the food they eat in China is so similar to the food they serve in Chinese restaurants over here. I mean, we often make our own versions of other foods, but we were pretty kind to the Chinese :)
I'm just filling up space here, with these random food ramblings. I used to really overuse the word random; I hope I don't anymore.
I should do more homework. I never do homework, just think about it, and aimlessly surf the web. Urgh... I hate that expression, 'surfing the web'. It sounds so cheesy and American. Sorry Americans, I don't mean any offense...
I do love endlessly surfing the internet though, it really is quite addictive; you can find some really interesting things. On the other hand, sometimes you can waste hours playing tetris. Just as fun, but less productive.
FIVE ...... DAYS ...... LEFT ..... ! ! ! !It feels like clawing myself up a mountain. I seem to write eeeendless entries, yet I NEVER make it to the end of the month.Gahh... But I will. I WILL DEFEAT YOU OCTOBER! You cannot conquer me...But alas, my inspiration stream is dry... Oh computer! What hast thou done to my mind? Thou hast fried it, emptied it, brutally murdered my spirit as if it were a helpless dragon and thou was the cruel, heartless knight. Thou makest me dead inside.
Thou is in cohorts with the TV...
Writing prompt #88: When you and another person bonded.Xi'an, China. I'm not a confident cyclist; I only learnt when at 11, and haven't really had many opportunities. We passed a bicycle hire stall and thought it'd be fun to hire some. Our teacher told us we would be going on tandem bicycles. Shit. Why? There weren’t enough for one each. So I went with my friend Charlie, scared witless. But after a while I just let go, and it was the most fun I'd had. I put all my trust in her; I think we really bonded that day.
So my friends, (if anyone's still reading this...) we've reached the end of the month. Halloween actually! I did nothing this Halloween (you may've guessed I'm writing this in November). I was still really jet lagged, having come back just the day before. I tried to watch Most Haunted, but I kept falling asleep so I went to bed at nine. Turned out it was a bit boring anyway. We tried to attract the Trick O'Treaters with a small plastic pumpkin with a torch in it. They saw it, but no one was interested. Maybe they thought we were paedophiles...