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lilka's birthday today. She's been in already - I gave her two bracelets, "Make Smut" and "Not War." Becca gave me the T bead I needed, and Jane showed me what else she'd got - so far a cow, an atomiser, and a threat of fic from emerald_embers which will no doubt involve necrophilia in its most extreme form. She's a little freaked out - Jane, that is - about being an adult. In any case, she came in bearing sweets and I love her just as much as ever.
I'm very very tired at present. Don't know why, as I did fall asleep last night, and it's not as if I'm in dance and having to actually do stuff, which makes it something like the seventh consecutive dance lesson I've skived, but huh. I do not care. I mean, they don't, so why should I?
I'm browsing through my lists at the moment. I should be reading through my anthology - timed essay on the poems of Carol Ann Duffy is the next thing on the agenda this morning. I don't like writing about poetry, did I ever mention that? I really don't. I am not good at it. Not in the slightest.
Bored now. Got nothing more to ramble about. Except... I actually did that Classics essay last night, which is so unexpected it deserves a mention. I rambled on about nothing for four pages, and I don't think I could have been asked to do anything more. I started my English. Got 200 words in before giving up. I hate media. Well, no, I don't. But I don't want to write about it. There are so many more fun things to write. I mean, the last time I tried to do that English, I ended up doing my own five-minute challenge out of sheer procrastination.
Yes... Libby has been writing again. Her latest epic is about me.
"There are many homeless people on the streets nowadays, one cannot walk down the street without seeing one. As sorry as we may feel for them, we rarely stop to consider how these young people ended up there. I cannot tell you each and every story, there are millions of homeless people, each with their own story to tell. But, I can inform you of the tragic story of Iona. Iona is a young girl of just 16 and already destitute, with no hope of gaining any GCSEs. I interviewed this poor young girl and as it turned out, like most people in her situation, she was merely a victim of circumstances.
Right from when Iona was a baby, her family fed her with a constant stream of books, magazines and newspapers. She could read by the time she was 2 1/2 years old and by the time she was 6, had a reading age of about 19. In short, she was a genius. But, as the years rolled by, Iona began to read more and more. At her peak, she was reading 13 classic novels a day. This reamrkable feat was not to last long, though. Soon, her whole world would come crashing around her.
When I visited Iona on the streets of downtown Salford, I found her sheltering under a bridge, just across the road from a homeless shelter and next to a noisy building site. She was huddled next to a steel drum which she had set on fire for warmth. Here she was, this poor girl, in rags and an old overcoat, barely able to remember better times. I sat down next to her and noticed the empty chip wrappers which she had eaten that day. It was so sad that this once bright, intelligant girl was now reduced to begging and busking, singing along to her banjo in the high street.
I asked her what had happened and she related it back to me. Her grammar was suprisingly good considering her past tragedy. Soon, the whole sorry story came out and I could do nothing but pity her. About a year earlier, she had been predicted 15 A*s in her GCSEs, quite possible for someone of her IQ (198). She had been a member of mensa since the age of 5. Slowly, over the years, she read more and more and her passion for books became apparent.
one day, though in mid March, she woke up at around 7.30 and opened one of the novels by her bed. She did not stop reading for a total of 5 days, by which time, her brain was so exhausted, it literally collapsed. It is now thought that her brain expanded with knowledge so much during her life that in the end, it imploded and shrank to the size of an orange. After this, she was committed to an asylum as she was deemed not fit to live in society. Iona though, manged to escape and now sleeps rough. She knows, if she goes back, she'll never be allowed out. So now, this shell of a girl sits on the ground with her knees up to her chin for most of the day. A cardboard sign would be her way of begging, but seeing as she can no longer write, and she gets so tired when talking, she is forced to wail and moan, hoping the public take pity on her and toss her food and money."
Thank you, Libby. You have so much faith.
lilka's birthday today. She's been in already - I gave her two bracelets, "Make Smut" and "Not War." Becca gave me the T bead I needed, and Jane showed me what else she'd got - so far a cow, an atomiser, and a threat of fic from emerald_embers which will no doubt involve necrophilia in its most extreme form. She's a little freaked out - Jane, that is - about being an adult. In any case, she came in bearing sweets and I love her just as much as ever. I'm very very tired at present. Don't know why, as I did fall asleep last night, and it's not as if I'm in dance and having to actually do stuff, which makes it something like the seventh consecutive dance lesson I've skived, but huh. I do not care. I mean, they don't, so why should I?
I'm browsing through my lists at the moment. I should be reading through my anthology - timed essay on the poems of Carol Ann Duffy is the next thing on the agenda this morning. I don't like writing about poetry, did I ever mention that? I really don't. I am not good at it. Not in the slightest.
Bored now. Got nothing more to ramble about. Except... I actually did that Classics essay last night, which is so unexpected it deserves a mention. I rambled on about nothing for four pages, and I don't think I could have been asked to do anything more. I started my English. Got 200 words in before giving up. I hate media. Well, no, I don't. But I don't want to write about it. There are so many more fun things to write. I mean, the last time I tried to do that English, I ended up doing my own five-minute challenge out of sheer procrastination.
Yes... Libby has been writing again. Her latest epic is about me.
"There are many homeless people on the streets nowadays, one cannot walk down the street without seeing one. As sorry as we may feel for them, we rarely stop to consider how these young people ended up there. I cannot tell you each and every story, there are millions of homeless people, each with their own story to tell. But, I can inform you of the tragic story of Iona. Iona is a young girl of just 16 and already destitute, with no hope of gaining any GCSEs. I interviewed this poor young girl and as it turned out, like most people in her situation, she was merely a victim of circumstances.
Right from when Iona was a baby, her family fed her with a constant stream of books, magazines and newspapers. She could read by the time she was 2 1/2 years old and by the time she was 6, had a reading age of about 19. In short, she was a genius. But, as the years rolled by, Iona began to read more and more. At her peak, she was reading 13 classic novels a day. This reamrkable feat was not to last long, though. Soon, her whole world would come crashing around her.
When I visited Iona on the streets of downtown Salford, I found her sheltering under a bridge, just across the road from a homeless shelter and next to a noisy building site. She was huddled next to a steel drum which she had set on fire for warmth. Here she was, this poor girl, in rags and an old overcoat, barely able to remember better times. I sat down next to her and noticed the empty chip wrappers which she had eaten that day. It was so sad that this once bright, intelligant girl was now reduced to begging and busking, singing along to her banjo in the high street.
I asked her what had happened and she related it back to me. Her grammar was suprisingly good considering her past tragedy. Soon, the whole sorry story came out and I could do nothing but pity her. About a year earlier, she had been predicted 15 A*s in her GCSEs, quite possible for someone of her IQ (198). She had been a member of mensa since the age of 5. Slowly, over the years, she read more and more and her passion for books became apparent.
one day, though in mid March, she woke up at around 7.30 and opened one of the novels by her bed. She did not stop reading for a total of 5 days, by which time, her brain was so exhausted, it literally collapsed. It is now thought that her brain expanded with knowledge so much during her life that in the end, it imploded and shrank to the size of an orange. After this, she was committed to an asylum as she was deemed not fit to live in society. Iona though, manged to escape and now sleeps rough. She knows, if she goes back, she'll never be allowed out. So now, this shell of a girl sits on the ground with her knees up to her chin for most of the day. A cardboard sign would be her way of begging, but seeing as she can no longer write, and she gets so tired when talking, she is forced to wail and moan, hoping the public take pity on her and toss her food and money."
Thank you, Libby. You have so much faith.
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no subject
on 2003-03-25 02:14 am (UTC)And I have to say, I rather envy you doing Carol Ann Duffy at GCSE. We did Wilfred Owen... he's a brilliant poet, naturally, but soooo depressing. And we did him again at AS. I love Carol Ann Duffy quite ridiculous amounts.
no subject
on 2003-03-25 09:53 am (UTC)Well... I guess I would like Carol Ann Duffy too, if I didn't have to do her poems at GCSE. Analysing the crap out of everything.... meh. Essay was a non-starter, though.
no subject
on 2003-03-25 04:05 am (UTC)Poor poor birdy has to squawk for food. :p
no subject
on 2003-03-25 10:01 am (UTC)*scratches*
*waits for food*
*dies*
Re:
on 2003-03-25 10:02 am (UTC)no subject
on 2003-03-25 06:50 am (UTC)eep. that was a slight rant.. sorry.
ps: i think that if we're going to exchange packages, they should have themes.
no subject
on 2003-03-25 09:59 am (UTC)[ooh, deja-vu]
Anyway. The package thing really sounds like fun! How about we move the discussion to email... email me at my LJ address, that's easier, and lemme know what you had in mind. *rubs hands together* Fun!
no subject
on 2003-03-25 09:12 am (UTC)My best friend worries that I will think to hard and one day my brain will just explode. She gets panicky when I get headaches. Someone watches too much Fox!
no subject
on 2003-03-25 09:55 am (UTC)