"And you give yourself away..."

LJ seems to be stripping all tags.
Um.... Link. Um... loneraven.

If those work I'm wrong, but they don't seem to be appearing in comments.

Well, guess who's skiving dance for the sixth consecutive time? I just don't care any more.

I'm so, so tired this morning. The Insomnia Monster Strikes Back. Last night, I tried to finish the building-the-still fic, and kinda failed miserably. I think I've gone as far as I can with it now - I guess I'll finish up, tidy up, and count my losses. It's okay... it just meanders. It does meander. Follows from idea to idea like a wandering, headless spider (talking of which, I think Mukora is dead).
I guess what I was aiming at was a set-up fic - pull in all the ideas, but not head for any kind of resolution, because what with its being a builiding-a-still fic, it's got to be early on, ne? I wanted to do the whole introduction thing, but that doesn't work; that makes it pre-slash, and I wanted it to be peri-slash, which is a word I have just made up. So it involves a lot of flashbacks and a lot of character-thought, and so it meanders. Ugh.

I am sitting in on Becca's IT lesson, as it's the easiest way I could think of to not go to dance. She is doing a Publisher practice assignment, and even though I'm not in the lesson Mr Hood is boring me out of my mind. Becca just said you can see he's in the right job. I agree. I also think she's bored. For some reason access to darrenhayes.com is blocked, so she's dragged the "Access denied" text, dropped it into a Paint window and is now giving it a green background.

Next comes English, and I think I shall do my best not to give my talk today, although - and this is the good part - I do actually have notes I can work from. I made them last night, which might have something to do with why I'm so tired.

[Just found out why Becca was playing the the "Access denied" thingit. She's setting it to be the same colour as the desktop so she can set it as wallpaper. Interesting effect]

After printing off the notes, I tried to write and couldn't. I don't know why I always seem to do my writing in the middle of the night. I also don't know why I update my journal from school, as so little happens here, but we are lucky, in several ways - free 'n' easy net access, with not many important sites blocked. Yahoo! Groups used to be blocked, but spontaneously unblocked itself. Same with livejournal, which is now open to anyone again.

I have now been typing this for twenty minutes. I'm no less tired than I was before. Seriously. Could fall asleep. Would like to, but the chair is hard plastic.

Last night, I actually worked. Did Biology, French, Maths, Classics and English.

And I just discovered cucharita placed an announcement on her journal just for me. Dance was cancelled. She's signing in for me. I [[heart]] teh Enid. I like my life at present. At least, I would, if I wasn't exhausted, wasn't in school, and hadn't just discovered that our study leave doesn't begin until Friday 16th May. If that tag was stripped, forgive me. Anyway, on that last day, we're all going to Alton Towers, apparently. Should be fun, if it doesn't rain. And oddly depressing... so many people are leaving, and I keep thinking, why didn't I get to know you when I had the chance, why did I have to be an eleven-year-old with issues, why, why, why, why do we have to grow up, why do we have to do exams, why must we be responsible and old, why?

"My hands are tied, my body bruised, you got me with nothing left and nothing left to lose, and you give yourself away..."

Bored. Ugh. Silverchair.

Bored, bored, bored...

{bored bored bored}

...bored.

No, really. Cannot be bothered doing anything. Have no enthusiasm. Or motivation. Or pronouns.

Something Corporate gig in... how many days? Four?
I'm not even remotely bouncy about it, because it hasn't sunk in. Nothing ever seems to sink in until the day before any more.
Which is, of course, why I will do no revision for my actual GCSEs, I can feel it. I will go on study leave, and it will be hot by then. Well, not hot... this is England... but warm. And the warmer it is, the more depressed I am - it's a perfect example of proportion in nature. So yes, I will be on study leave, at home with the contents of my desk, and I will do no work whatsoever. I will just sit and be depressed.

Last summer was not fun at the time, I seem to remember... snowdrop24 went to Wales and happened to text me on an exremely bad day. I informed her I was going to kill myself. I didn't, of course. I went to bed and stayed there for eighteen hours.

Shortly after that, I was hit by a car.

And will you look at that... I've just dug out the playlist I was using at the time. As Jem Finch so aptly says, "Shoot no wonder..."

"I dream about how it's going to end, approaching me quickly,
Suicidal dreams..."

That was my favourite song for so long. According to the playlist I listened to it 168 times. The only song I've listened to more than that is Konstantine...
And I'm going to hear it live in four days, and I'm still not excited about it.

Huh. Guess I'll go and do some work. Maybe.

Astitva

I have been sitting in the kitchen watching a Zee TV serial called Astitva: Ek Prem Kahani. Means, "Existence; a love story" which is the kind of stupid-ass title I would have expected from a show which has way too many characters and background music and a really heavy dose of melodrama. It also has subtitles. I'm hooked.
Well, not hooked exactly. But I do find myself wondering at times what's going to happen to the (multitude of) characters, and did he get over that drinking problem, and did the bitch in the blue sari fall in the sea yet, and blah. They're never going to resolve the plot, ever, and I know it. So, I have been watching it and eating dinner - rice, aloo gobi (yay) and chicken in what used to be shop-bought sweet 'n' sour sauce before we added chilli powder, ground coriander, turmeric and cumin, and also karhi-
[ "Mummy, I don't like karhi."
"Yes, you do."
"No, I don't! I never have!"
"You liked it when you were a baby!"
"No, I didn't! Nahin, don't give me any..."
Too late]
-and I'd been sitting there twenty minutes and just about finished. My mother hadn't started on her food. Pedar was on the phone, so neither had he. I gave her the usual nudge - "Food's getting cold."
But as some misguided sage once said, Indian women eat their husbands before eating themselves. In more child-friendly terms, nothing I could say would make her eat until Pedar's reappearance. I told her we'd have to reheat everything and the universe wouldn't explode if she took a bite, but no. Guess there's some things you can't change. Sadly, your basic Hindi serial plot is also one of them.

I have got some work done, and am in a surprisingly better mood. I was going to do my history as a timed thingit, but I was sitting at the kitchen table and obviously ended up watching M*A*S*H. It was the episode Pedar calls the "of all the gin-joints" one. No slash at all, but poor whumped Hawk (he met the love of his life and she left him!).

Did some of the history ("Hoover lost the election because of a number of factors, no kiddin'") and that's that. Also did some Maths and Classics. And yay for yet another week of skived dance.