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Monday, April 17, 2006
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Current mood:  awake
I _____ Charlotte. Charlotte is _____. Charlotte needs ______. I want to _____ Charlotte. Charlotte can ______. Someday Charlotte will _______. Charlotte reminds me of _______. Without Charlotte, _________. Charlotte can be _______. Charlotte is always _______. If Charlotte kissed me I would ________ Worst thing about Charlotte is ________. Best thing about Charlotte is ________. I think Charlotte should _________. Right now, I bet Charlotte is thinking about _______. Charlotte makes me want to _______. Charlotte probably tastes like ________. If I could spend the day with Charlotte, I'd ____________. I'd ______ for Charlotte. If Charlotte asked me out I would ______ Charlotte is the _________. I want to give Charlotte a ________. The song _____ by _____ reminds me of Charlotte.
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Monday, January 09, 2006
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But the internet's never wrong!?
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Wednesday, November 09, 2005
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charlotte is really short,
and also likes to snort
sherbert in her lunch times
and makes good limericks that rhyme
word; port.
PROOF.
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Thursday, October 13, 2005
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(An epic emo song composed in Archaeology by Charlotte, Becky, Adam and Bill)
We are uber great, yes? This is typed up exactly as it was written. :D
The bottoms of my jeans are ruined
I knew I should have rolled them up
I only have myself to blame
As these tears fall into my coffee cup
my converses are soggy
and the edges of my jeans are frayed
know I am afraid
My nipples are hard
I'll give you my card
the constitution of my hatred
this destiny is fated
!Burn!
I want to suck
a rubber duck
My nipples are hard
and I'm of lard
I like bagels because the hole
reminds me of the void in my soul
you remind me of bread
& you're stuck in my head
I once had a pet rock, his name was Tarquin
Then some twat from my archaeology class stole him
He was the first and only friend I ever had
Oh my life is so depressingly sad
*emo sigh*
Die Die Die my tarquin don't utter a single word
Die Die Die my tarquin Just shut your pretty crevice
ill be suing you again ill be suing you Again
i;ll be seeing you in Hell, or archaeology
"hows the song coming along"
"shut up, you're not emo enough"
My nipples are hard
I had a turd yard
And you're a retard.
I have writers block
Now the rain has seeped into my sock
I knew I should have brought an umbrella to college
but the only one I had was pink
and that's not emo enough, I think
But puppets (emos) you can manipulate
emos don't bleed or concede
to Hate
or negotiate
emos rock!
and suck co*k
This is what they all say
But they don't understand my pain
My jeans are still wet from the rain
(Boo-hoo :,-( )
The rain still falls from the sky
like the tears from my eyes
oh wait, that's the 7-up that someone
just threw at me it burns like the sun
punk/ metaller shut up you Depressing boy
or ill break you like a toy
*runs away*
Oh shit, my jeans
You called my a turd
that's just absurd.
*jumps off college roof*
goodbye cruel world!!!
*emo SPLAT!*
-'oh my god i didn't die i hate you world'
ow I think my neck is broken
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Tuesday, September 06, 2005
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Mood: Bored Music: Jin Suzuki Reading material: Collected Short Stories of H.G. Wells
I went into college today, to register and get my ID card and stuff. I officially have the worst ID card photo ever. It's so embarrassing, I think I may have to "loose" it and get a new one with a photo that doesn't make me want to sink into the ground every time I see it. I have to start college on Friday, so I still have a few more days of *relative* freedom...
I've been neglecting this journal a little bit, which you are probaly all thankful for, and I have a few hours to kill before I have to go to work, so I'll relate my day yesterday.
Well, I went to Camden with some friends, to get some clothes for college. After being half an hour late to meet them (nothing by the standards of Jennifer though), I quickly discovered that short, flowy skirts are not suitable for travelling on tube trains in, and later on in the day that floor fans are the enemy. I ended up holding the skirt down for the majority of the day, it seemed. Later on, I changed into a longer skirt that I had bought earlier on in the toliets of MacDonalds- the one thing that place is useful for. When we got to Camden, we browsed through a couple of shops and the markets and I bought a pretty pair of chopsticks from a stall in the Camden Lock Market. Then Sophie decided she was hungry, and after some browsing, we decided to get some take-away Chinese food. Yay to cheap vegetarian food!
We sat down at a table-and-bench-type-thing, and were eating (well, they were- I was spilling most of mine down myself, due to my lack of ability at eating noodles with a blunt plastic fork) when a woman came and sat down at the spare space (there were only three of us at that point), and started to unpack her lunch. She peeled open the lid of a tupperware box to free the odour of egg salad. It looked like it had been gradually moulding/ wilting all morning, and probally had. It took all my willpower not to burst out laughing.
I think it was at that point, we got a phonecall from Lucy, or maybe we called her, I can't remember. She's had her college enrolement interview-thing on that day, and therefore couldn't meet us at ten (or ten-thirty, in my case). We walked up to meet her, and she was wearing the onion-seller top (hahaha, just joking, it doesn't really look like that. I blame Cara and Lucy's mother.) that she wore at her party and leopard print, slightly furry shoes, as well as other clothes of course (eeeeemo jeans). We decided to look at the vintage shops after her informing me that I looked like a ballet dancer, and I ended up buying a fairly long fifties-style black skirt with white polka dots and a knee-length kilt-type skirt. Very patterned for me, I know. It took me quite a while to get used to the fact that it really was me with the spots on, not some random pattern I was hallucinating. I also fulfilled the quest set by my sister- to find and then buy her some UV nail polish, and bought a super-long twisty black bead bracelet from a very cheap shop for 89 pence.
At about four/ five o'clock Cara and Sophie decided that they were exhausted and decided to go home (boring!). I and Lucy decided that we'd go to Oxford Street because we were bored of Camden, and managed to find it. We then went to Borders and spent the next hour or so taking the piss of their manga section, which, although it seemed quite large, constisted mainly of Yu-Gi-Oh books and fourth books in many different series'. There were also whole sets of ten of the same book. When that had lost its novelty value, we went to Starbucks and I bought an exceptionally overpriced raspberry Frappuccino, which I have to say, was the pinkest and most sugary (disqualifying that WKD at Brighton) thing I've had for a long time, and made me very hyper for a while. We wandered and decided to try to walk to Covent Garden, going down random streets and looking like lost tourists (especially with my mini-London underground map that I had picked up at Liverpool St).
I realised a curious thing, while I was walking. Everywhere I go, I seem to go past a lot of dodgy underwear shops. I'm not sure whether something strange is going on in my subconscious or the demand for shops like that is going up, or it's just coincidence. Perhaps a mixture of both?
We were almost succesful in our aim and ended up being about two tube stations away from Covent Garden. Being lazy (at least, I am), we descended and took the tube to it. We went to a cafe-restaurant place and I bought some expensive carrot cake which had what looked (and tatsed) like mouldy black walnuts in it. I didn't eat these, naturally, but the pigeons did. They eat anything. This inspired a long conversation about exploding pigeons, but neither I or Lucy could remember what it was you have to feed them to make them explode. Anyone know?
At this point, it was about seven- half sevenish, and we decided to go home. My journey home was fairly uneventful. The token annoying chavs were being their usual annoying selves on the bus- but what is to be expected? I got home at about eight.
I didn't blog about Lucy's party, did I? From what I remember of it, it was very funny. ~Jed came down from "t'up Nooooururth" for it, and ended up having to look after me all evening, and having me steal his jumper. I almost poisoned people with my Pimms- my drink maying skills are not exactly...um.... bearable. Haha. That reminds me of when I made vodka and orange juice with three quaters vodka and one orange in Brighton. Her entire house and garden seemed to be covered by a coating of broken bits of Pringle, thanks to Warren. Do they have Pringles in America? I don't think you do. If you don't, you should do. They're crisps, for people that don't know. Practically every person at that party seemed to be drunk, or at least slightly "tipsy" as Cara would say. Especially a certain Sophie, who happened to get off with (I can barely think of it) Warren. And then Kieran. Haha.
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Sunday, July 10, 2005
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Today I have been bitter and twisted. Evenmoreso than usual, to the suprise of many people. I know there's no point even writing this, because nobody will read it.
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Friday, July 08, 2005
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1. Who are you? 2. Are we friends? 3. When and how did we meet? 4. How have I affected you? 5. What do you think of me? 6. What's the fondest memory you have of me? 7. How long do you think we will be friends? 8. Do you love me? 9. Do you have a crush on me? 10. Would you kiss me? 11. Would you hug me? 12. Physically, what stands out? 13. Emotionally, what stands out? 14. Do you wish I was cooler? 15. On a scale of 1-10, how hot am I? 16. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. 17. Am I loveable? 18. How long have you known me? 19. Describe me in one word. 20. What was your first impression? 21. Do you still think that way about me now? 22. What do you think my weakness is? 23. Do you think I'll get married? 24. What makes me happy? 25. What makes me sad? 26. What reminds you of me? 27. If you could give me anything what would it be? 28. How well do you know me? 29. When's the last time you saw me? 30. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? 31. Do you think I could kill someone? 32. Have we ever had sex? 33. Do you miss me? 34. Do you think i miss you? 35. Are you going to put this on your MYSPACE and see what I say about you?
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Thursday, June 09, 2005
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Current mood:AAh History!
Four things that should exist:
" A CD of Opeth covering All American Rejects’ songs
" Pens that automatically write the correct answer in exams
" Bread that doesn’t go mouldy
" Chocolate covered salt and vinegar crisps
Because all of those would be rad.
History in one hour exactly. I wonder if the S-Club Juniors girl will be sitting this exam as well? I hope she isn't because last time her tracksuit distracted me. I saw some yellow-shirters trying to get her autograph the other day- they were brandishing their rough books at her like there was no tomorrow. Suckers.
I have just committed a crime against cookery. I cannot believe I would stoop so low as to eat Heinz tinned spaghetti.
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Thursday, May 19, 2005
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Sunday, May 01, 2005
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Current mood:Disbelief
By writing poetry I've managed to gradually destory everything good that has been in my life. I resolve to never write again as far as I can.
Another page in your life has turned
and you’re left standing on the side-
lines once again. Wishing that you had
something to say that wouldn’t be a
mistake. When you look back, you’ll
see you’ve wasted the past few months
and wish that you could be reinvented.
Files of memories, safely held in your
mind, waiting for another person to
come along and help you dredge them
out again. To me you were something
special, to the harsh lighting of my brain,
just another easily forgotten face. I
walk the streets hand in hand with
shadows, talking of old books and places
we have never been. Things that could
have been aren’t scenes so much as
intervals.
I try not to make eye contact with the
dead. Eyes are a window to my soul,
or at least, the lack of one. Somehow
people can sense your thoughts, but at
night only streetlamps can look you in
the face and sigh. There’s so many things
that you think you have forgotten,
snatches of song, autumn leaves and stones
you once kept as lucky charms in your
coat pockets. Apologies aren’t accepted
by things that don’t exist anymore, and
even if they were, what kind of person
would say sorry to a memory? I would
but there’s come doubt as to who I
am. Changes in the trees tell me the
months because I can’t be bothered to
turn over my calendar anymore. The past
is sacred.
This is the last poem that I will ever
write. I used to be an artist, someone
who never thought that what they
wrote could curse their azure skies and
golden days. The dream is shattered and
I wish that I could burn these libraries of
memories. I’ll burn my meaningless
sheets of words. Hope that it will all
be over soon because this is the
final chapter of an age.
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