BLOGRAPED.

IS THIS A THING NOW?

I wish I had a scanner here.

I write shit stuff in seminars because I am too intellectually inferior to join in.

Vibrations on wood screamed suspiciously viscious.

Modern technology demanding imminent attention with greater insistence than mass idols of a mirroring time.

Your shocking announcement and my limited discouragements.

"You are something else aren't you?"
A curious window all blue and bright. She would look up at me with inquisitiveness to such an extent that I could feel her questionings pulse through me, through fixated shallow blood. In the mornings she would ask me to close the blinds, we would stare through stunted light; being uncovered would always be out of the question. If I was to lift the window that was littered to heaviness by the dust of each stale morning, I would grasp out accross the roof and swing the pure clarity of the clouds back inside and over her naked face.
"I can't help you."

God Forbid...

I should walk out of this room with no make-up on. A halloween worthy complexion and the constant loosing battle to hide it is becoming very tiresome. This is potentially reasoning for me being awake at 2.30am after retiring (party animal) at around eight o'clock. Since 'the move' it has become so much more apparent that when I interact with people I constantly feel like I am intellectually inadequate, and yet when I try to educate myself by working (as I have been doing since getting up at about 1am) I feel completely bland and mechanical; clockwork words I will assume I picked up at some point in a lecture where we are supposedly not spoon-fed.

I drew a picture for this.
It is offensively shit, but it is still a shame that it didn't get it's five minutes- even if they were to be nothing but appriciative mockery.

Fire alarm this morning at seven, why do it?
It was about as necessary as this blog.

Writing seriously

Is a waste of my time.

Especially when tired.

Sorry if this makes no sense.

I will just continue to provide reasons that people should be happy they weren't born as me.

I have recently become the owner of a pair of Nike Air tracksuit bottoms (Awesome).

On the first day of owning these badboys I noticed a small pocket inside the actual pocket which (as you can imagine) overwhelmed me with excitement and lead to me showing babyshez.

She replied to; "Look Grace, pocket within a pocket" with; "It's a condom pocket".

After my initial shock and anguish that she would present such an idea, being fourteen and all, I realized that actually (even worse) she was probably right.

The pocket is pretty condom shaped.

And so obviously I had to show EVERYONE.

So I put a condom in the condom pocket (seeing to believe) and impressed the millions.

Then I took them along with me to Bestival where my friend Tom thought it would be a great idea to hijack them on the last day (one of the few people who had not witnessed the wonder of condom pocket) and take them home to wash then give back to me.

Now I am not completely sure about this but I am willing to bet that Tom does not do his own washing.

The tracksuit bottoms are back in my house.

The condom is gone from the pocket.

Tom's mum used to like me and now she thinks that I jam around festivals in my tracksuit bottoms looking for tent bangs.

AND I saw her yesterday before I had known all this.

Oh dear, oh dear.

Dreams

1.

I feel like the real dream has just ended and I am back in my own bed with my eyes shut.

I then feel a hand reaching across my side onto my stomach, which at first I find comforting in a strange way but then the whole mood changes and I am trapped.

I try to kick out against the advancing hand and the whispering I can now hear in my ear but then it occurs to me that I have been drugged- I am paralysed and someone is laughing in my ear.

I am screaming at this person in my thoughts but he can't hear me and neither can anyone else.

I wake up for real as shouting "Get off me you prick".

2.

I have a child in this one.

We are at a music festival with the babydaddy who decides this would be a really good time to sleep with the barmaid. A guy who I played on the swings with earlier in this venture tells me and man am I angry.

I basically take the kid who is called Max, but in the dream we call him 'little boy'.

Wake up as my sister is shouting at me- I think I heard her voice in the house and my mind worked it's magic.

3.

This one is a little more vague because it wasn't as traumatic.

But it was like zombie invasion and by some critical mistake I had been left to save my family and the world.

One of my chosen companions couldn't quite create a gun that would destroy the Zombie virus, (which was developing fast) but instead started injecting them with something that made them perform popular Ne-yo songs.

If anything, it was better.

4.

Bob-Sledding?

I keep dreaming.

Pretty Girls

Spend ages on their hair, ages on their clothes, ages on getting it just perfect.
I spend ages procrastinating over what I can write in this blog to make it even one hundredth as good as hyperbole and a half.
I gave up very quickly.
When my blog realizes I am reading that beautiful cartoon world it shrivels up- feeling truly hopeless and inferior- as it should.



On an entirely different note...
I still fail to understand how God (as a higher being and such) was sitting there doing all his creating, us in the form of himself and all that. Then oh... wait... it's such a masterpiece... those legs, that tiny body... THAT BLOOD SUCKING APPARATUS.
Oh hang on...

WHY?
WHY?
WHY?

Mosquito's are the worse thing ever, they have no purpose other than to cause pain.
"Oh, oh they have to drink blood otherwise they die mer mer mer circle of life"
Shut the hell up.
Who cares if they die?
I want them to in fact.
One of my bites has decided to swell up so now I literally have a kankle (basically).
Yeh, got me good didn't you, you little BASTAD.

Accidental Thong.

I have been hit by the curse of the accidental thong once again.

Innocently buying a matching set of underwear (nothing makes me happier- except when my underwear matched my skirt the other day- I cried a little) only to find that in the confusion and excitement I have bought a thong...

Thing is:

I need them to prevent vpl in jeggings ANYWAYSSS so in your face accidental thong.

Some of you may have noticed my unforgivable profile picture, the one where there is more curtain than fringe going on and more ugly than face.

WELL.

That picture can be found in shakeshed in Bromley my friends... Some may think this unfortunate but any picture of my that is pinned up in a Milkshake shop is definitely going to be the priority of my life.

I think they might change it next week but at least there is proof that it happened.

None of this is remotely interesting.

I have actually done many things since my last little go in here, but I have to go to work in one minute and I have wasted my time rambling as per usual.

So you just enjoy this.

I failed at the picture thing.

In terms of originality the gestures had a similar effect to that of the reject card in an overplayed deck; one which had been handled so often that a torn off top, right hand corner made the intended hidden overleaf utterly predictable.

I just drank like a litre of peach squash.

I really love peach squash.

But I do look like a preggo with my bloated stomach.

And I will need to pee so harshly very soon.

Scherenschnitte

The recent beginning (yesterday) of my week-long facebook strike has lead to me reading various 'next blog' blogs on here for the sake of something to fill spare time with and honestly for the sake of logging into something.

I found this woman who had a kind of crafts blog I guess?

And she had made these really simple black paper cut out's of like a bird and a woman lifting a kid then layered them over like music sheets and I was like actually they are really something.

So I read into it and the general technique is called 'Scherenschnitte'. My love of hilarious German words only deepened my love for this and I actually made one but my scanner is ballsing up (probably for the best... I think I should stick to the stick men actually).

But yeh, that is what that is.

The german word for 'Elbow' is 'Elbowgen'- I don't think you spell it like that but still.

The facebook strike isn't (although it should be) a comment on their constant inability to create a chat that works but is only really because I was getting a bit sick of it. It is becoming less of a convenient communication option and more of an excuse to do nothing and waste my time looking at things that actually I'm not even interested in; also which occasionally make me kind of angry because people I know act like they are someone completely different.

Rant.

Next time I will post a picture

I have outdone myself in boring :)

XX

Oh God, am I... Happy?

It has been a good long while since I have written in this

And as I was thinking about it prior to writing what I assumed would be one of those really forced pieces of blog- where I write about things I have done that aren't really remotely interesting- I considered this; maybe I am happy?

I have always been the kind of person to write down my frustrations and it is getting to the point now when either:

- I must have rinsed them all.

- Or maybe these things have become too trivial to get upset over when I hold them up against the things that are going okay; things level out too much these days for me to be able to say it's all bad.

And I am VERY good at making things seem bad...

On an entirely separate note I dreamt that my room was full of copper coins and in my dream I was going (in my head) 'Man, I am going to take these fuckers to sainsburys and go to TOWN'.

Gutted?

Yes.

I had another dream the other day when like 5 boys from my sixth form were dressed up as a boyband doing a really dramatic performance- opening sequence to hollyoaks-esque.

A little more gutted when it became apparent this hadn't happened I have to admit.

As a last little note;

I was watching Russell Howard with that lovely boy and it struck me like a slap in the face.

Russell Howard is the perfect man.

Over-think.

"Well... I'm going to go upstairs."

"Am I coming?"

Right now I am struggling to over-think this very familiar situation, which debatably should not have been repeated.

Usually I am the all-round master of procrastination but it's gotten to a point where I have analyzed this situation before and it has done no good whatsoever?

So what I probably will do is read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and listen to Jason Derulo to encourage an already painfully shallow line of thought.

Birthday.

If anyone asks me what I will miss most when I am dragged away from this place for further, further education I will answer entirely honestly. Saying the same each time.

Firstly,

My mother

Who unusually is very much a friend to me. (Also, she gets more and more entertaining every day)

And then secondly,

Beautiful friends like this.

I hate to think of the state I would now be in if this woman hadn't driven me away and played me Jason Derulo, because lets face facts...

I hate being alone, which is why I keep such amazing company.

I don't care how gay this post is,

Happy Birthday my lovelies

And Roxanne you can expect a card just as gay as this post, if not worse.

Pregnant.

"It is remarkable indeed how we human beings are capable of delighting in the mating call of a flower while we are surrounded by the charred carcasses of our fellow animals-but then we are remarkable creatures. Perhaps it is in our nature to recognize subconsciously the link between morality and procreation- between, that is to say, the finite and infinite-and we are in fact driven by reminders of the one to seek out the other."

- The Reluctant Fundamentalist

At the moment I have the ridiculous fear that I am pregnant.

Seemingly by at least like two months.

I know that I'm not; it is at least almost entirely impossible.

This has mainly stemmed from my fatty fatty belly that I am nicely forming.

I just thought it was awesome how I instantly thought 'Oh shit, pregnancy' rather than 'oh shit, three pizza huts in two weeks'; I keep trying to poke my stomach to see if I can feel baby instead of pizza- perhaps it feels different?

I got especially panicked today because it was too springy for my liking.

Food baby.

I just read this back and was like... Is this too personal?

There are too many things on my 'Do not publish onto blog list', so it is overflowing-onto my blog.

I miss Zoe Lee. Idiot. Get your act together.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Two Years.

Most people who know me as more than just an acquaintance, or reasonably well will understand that — 'bless me' - I am a little bit useless when it comes to grace. (Not the sister)

I am a wreck in other words; I always find a way to injure or embarrass myself.

For example on average I will hit my head on the walls in my room around three times a day at the very least.

I was under the impression that I was currently being unreasonably lucky when it came to these little mishaps-usually keeping them within the lovely boundaries of my own home or company.

It lasted two years.

Two blissful years.

Until today.

Today I left school intending to meet Jack and get a lift.

I (spectacularly) tripped over in front of quite a few people (not fully on my face, but looking like an idiot all the same) then whilst laughing it off and running to the fast escape I assumed was Jacks car...

Wrong car.

The look on that poor confused boys face as a slammed the door without an explanation.

I will deliver explanations to innocent victims when God explains why he hates me so much.

And no Matt, it was not cute.

Doiy

Juice

It was me who finished the juice father, I apologise.

I will start at the beginning as I hang my cyber head in shame and make this confession. You see I have a tendency and unbearable need to undermine people when they try to prevent me from something; especially if that something is the most delicious thing I have ever tasted at half past midnight after I have had my lovely toast.

The plan (your plan) I will admit was that of a genius. The trick was to hide the beautiful and rare tropical juice in a Tropicana carton for ORANGE JUICE- WITH EXTRA BITS (you crazy cat). Now you know that I was the previous drinker of the juice and you have also learned of my deep hatred for fucking extra bits. This is where your genius becomes apparent and YET my dear- you suffer a downfall.

Because when I come to the fridge insane with thirst I find myself in a battle: the choice between suffering these bits or my equal distaste of Asda orange juice- sometimes you just have to take the risk. Boy oh boy- sweet unexpected tropical juice- did it pay off.

The juice that you so tactfully hid from me- has gone.

Also- we are out of crunchy peanut butter.

Flipper.

One of those pitiful moods when you are really bitter about life and you sit listening to radio adverts- eating your coco pops- and take this approach to the poor people; who want only to prevent your chips turning into cracks:

Autoglass do NOT repair... Autoglass do NOT replace... REPAIR MY LIFE WHY DON'T YOU??

I have a day of revision due since my exam is tomorrow and this is all last years work- unfortunately no longer fresh in my head. Well actually not really in my head at all- I have toilet head syndrome. I cannot hang on to things I learnt last year because then there is no space for new learnings.

Also I'm full of shit.

To help all of this I have had Mayday Parade solidly and stubbornly stuck in my head for around three days. Pretty distracting reading about Robin Hardy when you're brain is going:

AND I SWEAR THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO GOOOOOOOOOOOO, I THOUGHT WE COULD WAIT FOR THE FIREWORKS...

I wish I could post you a picture of adorable penguin necklace that beautiful Stephanie got me- I might try to scan him.

Everyone got me awesome stuff actually- Fanks guys :)

Saturday was also pretty amazing.

Perhaps life is not so bad.

Most pointless and revision preventing blog ever.

But on the other hand...

Him being upside down only enhances the happily dazed impression.

Sausage

(One of those moods where you get all maternal over a picture of an animal)

If I had him my life would be complete - not for eating.

Just so that he would be mine and I could call him Sausage.

Poppy could wear a saddle for him.

Over Glory.

I knew I wouldn't forget you, and so I went and let you blow my mind.

Train- Hey Soul Sister is so unbelievably cute and happy I want to marry it and have sweet little musical prodigy children with it.

Tonight I am crawling it with Colleen around New Cross and I think it is going to be a DAYEM GOOD TIME :)

Today was strange and it's one of those things I should feel unhappy about- and I may well do if there is a sudden change of events - for right now what happens, happens I suppose.

My Honor Over Glory booby tube arrived and I am very happy about this. Very very happy- I will probably post a massively beggit picture at some point.

I asked my sister if she would be embarrassed if I wore it out and she said yes.

THAT is how good it is.

I don't know

I just wrote a whole blog then deleted it
It was pretty long
I did this for the reasoning that can be seen in the title to this blog

My mind is completely unsettled and I am an adult tomorrow.

Trying

To summon tears !!

To not wish this song was written for me for one reason or another.

To stay at this level of understanding and stability.

To prevent myself from dancing around like a lunatic to Two Door Cinema Club.

The last I think I may give into, even though I will feel (look) like a complete loser and proooobably fall over within five minutes.

5 days and it will be two years till I am twenty.

It is terrifying to think about it in that way.

But I would love to jump forward for a day and see how I change.

Oh

For fuck's sake.

I'm sorry you dislike me, I think I will continue liking you.

I wonder if you were attacked or something similarly horrible, I wonder would you run further than you ever could- or thought you could? Or would your body not provide an appropriate reaction at all? You could take off hoping that the adrenaline would kick in and then helplessly realise at some point that you were going to reach the same disappointing distance.

It is actually something I think about quite often. I always assume in that situation I would become stronger but I suppose when you get there it might not be the case- Eesh.

Zoe introduced me to 'Vessels' by Tall Ships.

I'm so glad The OC ended before it had the ability to use this in a funeral scene and ruin it for us all.

I don't really have anything particularly interesting to say.

I think I lost a friend recently.

I'm pretty gutted, but it is understandable.

I will have to look on the bright side.

Ikea

Glance at the IKEA catalogue and note that the use of capitols throughout that word is not the correct use of capitols. Note that this type of capitol use is often used commercially and also, in fact, by myself. Note how insignificant that thought is and how I will probably never mention it to anyone else. Also that most thoughts never find themselves to be a basis for conversation. Think about the familiar conversation that is always centered around IKEA- the one where you push a shopping trolly into those huge shelves of various drinking glasses and continue to destroy the shop, furniture-limb from furniture-limb, until you feel contented in your need for destruction.

I have concluded that I love streams of consciousness. I'm reading Brick Lane which makes me feel really inferior to people who read like timed classics (and don't constantly use the word 'like') but actually I am enjoying it.

I have surprised myself in terms of happiness, I don't feel like going to sleep and giving up every second which is... I cannot tell you how good it is.

And things that would have upset me drastically a couple of weeks ago don't seem so daunting.

Trying to work out what this supposed 'leg thing' is that Rihanna does but youtube thinks that being really shit is a fun game.

It is not a fun game.

The kisses that weren't aloud and the shock of the century.

Here again, here again.

You would think I would be bitter and horrible but not really- lack of emotion and all.

To be honest.

I'm not going to deny the small part of me the hopes you won't find anything better.

But mostly I just hope you end up happy.

That's nice I suppose?

That's love I suppose.

Bloody awful isn't it.

Contented

The thing I hate at the moment is the inability to cry.

I was thinking of the right way to describe it and it's like that last bit of ketchup in the glass bottles? It just kind of clings. Disgusting, but metaphors are evidently not a strong point. But yeh, my eyes will water and I will get choked up and then it all just disappears on the BRINK. Like that horrible about to sneeze- oh wait no- oh wait YES YES- oh wait no...

It is very frustrating.

It chimes in with my increasingly passive attitude. Today I replied to

"Condoms, do you have a preference?"

and one of my closest friends not being able to attend my eighteenth in more or less the same way.

It's just the expectancy that something at some point is going to go wrong and my reactions to things like that have been too rinsed in 2010.

Dear god, I have become as desensitized as the population of Britain when it comes to triggering an emotional response.

And I am the girl who cried at 'Strictly Come Dancing' (dont ask)

Yesterday night was the most fun I have had in such a long time, pub quizzing is a definite win and I have secured myself a tin of spaghetti letters for my 10th wedding anniversary. What more could I ask of a night?

So here is me content, not irrationally happy or unbearably sad.

I think I will see this as a good thing.

Maybe when I get a reply to this text (if it's bad) I won't go crazy.

Sorry about the self centered rambling.

Apologies for this massively gay post.

Sorry if you can't read this it's pretty small.

I just wrote it and I thought it was nice.

It's important that the people who have been there for me constantly realize that they are the best things in my life, and I hope I can try to be that for them.

A Pathetic Effort.

I have been told that this is my last decision and it's best that this is the last chance.

Here's to hoping things can be restored to their former glory.

I catch irritating attention seeking character traits from my dog.

I first thought I was creating a blog so I could generally further my stalking of people but I now realize its true destiny- that is to put off writing my English coursework for as long as possible.

Today was a 'feeling bad' day.

But I found my happyness in the oddest of places.

Well actually, my bedroom.

No, no not like that you DIRTY.

My beautiful little dog decided to sit upstairs with me and edge closer and closer to where I was sitting on the bed- assuming she was looking for attention as always I fondly ignored her efforts and she full out went and lay across all of the English work I was trying so desperately to complete; where she proceeded to fall asleep after a good wriggle around so it was nice and crinkled.

And there is the reasoning for this adorable picture, which I did not set up- I came in the room and the pillows were actually organized like this. A hilarious moment all round.

I was talking to some wise man about how blogging is one of those things that really helps people get to a better place; as in if you write down all the shit that is bothering you it is in stone but out of your head at least for a while (his words which are very much true, in my opinion). We all do silly, silly things to deal with our stresses and I suppose writing one or to cringely depressing blogs isn't the worst way to let it out of your system.

Blog,

Whenever I go to write something in here watching the screen reminds me of the close ups you get in Sex in the City of Kary's laptop.

It makes me feel like her.

Except I don't write about sex

And I don't own my own flat

Or have a job

OR A MASSIVELY HUGE MOLE ON MY CHIN.

Bahahaha.

I should write something insightful...

Not going to happen.

I have completed the task of eliminating relationships for my various reasons and I honestly felt much better when I did it and now obviously I feel alone. But I do need to stop changing my mind and actually realize the people that I know I can have faith in because I have been putting them through crap without even processing it.

Fingers crossed for bettering myself, I found my feet eventually

(Gay)

First Blog...

I am deeply hurt that my username has now become the email address that I strive to hide from all human eyes.

I do not know how to change this...