Excuse-for-not-writing-an-essay post.

I'm supposed to be writing an essay on The Great Gatsby right now but it really isn't going well so I figured I'd type out a blog post for a bit. Woo go me.
Gatsby is definitely, definitely one of my favourite books in the world ever. It makes me sad that I can't write things in as pretty a way as Fitzgerald does, but also makes me happy that someone can/could (ie Fitzgerald). Does that even make sense? I think not.
Anyway, here are some thoughts on the book so far (wow, I've actually become a really boring old lady. I should join a book club or something):
1. I am almost relieved that Tom and Daisy got married and not Tom and Gatsby because HOW DAMN STUPID does Daisy Gatsby sound. It sounds like a children's nursery rhyme or something.
2. Daisy is so far my favourite character and I haven't really decided why. Idk she's cute. (Can Blogger please stop telling me I spelt favourite wrong. I'M BRITISH. Also SPELT IS A FUCKING WORD LEAVE ME ALONE.)
3. Jordan Baker annoys me to SHIT. She's a grumpy cow. Also I know a boy called Jordan Baker and it's a little disconcerting. He doesn't play golf.
4. I think I might call one of my children Daisy Fay. (Also Leah, Yann and Ruth. Imma have a lot of children.)
I think that's all, for now. There will be more. Don't think this is over.
On another note, can we all take a moment to appreciate the music from the Anna Karenina trailer, please? (Can we also all appreciate the Anna Karenina trailer/Anna Karenina please?) Here's a link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPGLRO3fZnQ The music I'm talking about doesn't start until 27sec in, but it's definitely worth a listen. It's beautiful. Also, Anna Karenina as a film is b e a u t i f u l. I'm sure I've already written about it but WOW. I want to go see it again. And again. And again. I can't find a good link online (although OBVIOUSLY i would NEVER watch a film illegally online OH NO NOT I) so I need to go to the cinema to see it again REALLY REALLY SOON I NEED TO STOP WITH THE CAPITAL LETTERS OH MY GOD. Oh AND I went to see Skyfall which was actually really brilliant. I'm generally not a fan of James Bond but my family dragged me along and it was really good and I was definitely surprised by that. My stepdad bears a strong resemblance to Daniel Craig and people kept turning round and staring at him in the cinema.
Also, I went to the roller derby on Saturday and ARRG were winning until the LAST SIX MINUTES when Dundee ended up winning by like 20 points or something and I definitely did not see that coming at all. But yeah, it was excellent to watch.
ALSO, I promise not to say much about this at all, other than one word (or possibly more, we'll see how the fancy takes me): closure. Clo-suuuure. I feel a hell of a lot better about everything now. A hell of a lot better.
This is pathetic, I have nothing to write about. OH WAIT YEAH I WENT TO SEE JACK!!! He lives in Ayr which is a place I generally don't like but wow I met loads of really nice people and had such a nice time and yayyyy.
Final point: it makes me really quite sad sometimes that sexuality isn't a choice. If everything in the world was the same as it is now apart from sexuality was something that could be chosen/controlled, I wouldn't be the way I am. No way in hell. It's just... I mean, I know in Britain/Scotland we're pretty lucky in that we have so much less prejudice and hatred aimed at LGBT people but still, like, it's not nice being LGBT. I almost constantly feel a little like people are laughing at me/fetishising my sexual preference or relationship/generally undermining it. The phrase "second-class citizen" springs to mind, although I'm not sure if that's not a little harsh. I don't know. My point is: I wouldn't be gay if it was a choice and it makes me sad to think that.
That's all.

Obligatory blog update!

HEY YOU GUYS IT'S BEEN ALMOST A MONTH DID YOU MISS ME NO I THOUGHT NOT :(
Hey, I'm back. I have LOADS to say.
First, the bad news: Mairi and I broke up. Or rather, she broke up with me. But that's okay, it's all okay. Admittedly, it wasn't to begin with, but it is now. I promise. That's all I'll say about it.
Also I have an atrocious cold which is miserable but also makes my voice sound HILARIOUS. I feel a little like I've been possessed by demons, and every time i cough my cats run away.
Now here's about 60 tons of good news!!!
1. I am an NYC representative! NYC is the National Youth Council, which is an elected group of people from within LGBT Youth Scotland who get together and make important things happen/represent young LGBT people in Scotland/try to make a difference etc etc. So I was elected into that last Wednesday, and I have to go on a residential trip from the 9th-11th November, and it's all pretty exciting idk woo.
2. Relating to the last good thing, now I have something to actually put on my personal statement!!! It's now 22 words long, so that's an improvement. It was at 16 last week.
3. I had my first ever Nando's and it was glorious. And then post-Nando's we went to Frisky to get froyo and there was this adorable girl working there and I almost cried because she was so cute.
4. That's all. I totally lied about the 60 tons of good news thing. There's a summary of the past month. Goodbye for now.

Guys, I'm not dead! (no one cares)

It's been SO LONG since I've posted anything. Almost a month. Many things have happened!
I've started the long and tedious process of applying for uni. I'm aiming for politics at Glasgow, but failing that I'm not sure. Writing a personal statement is HELLISH. There's such a fine line between making yourself sound good and making yourself sound pretentious. However. I'll manage.
ALSO my doctor forgot to refer me back to the hospital so looks like I have to wait until October to get any sort of medical attention for this tumour on my neck. Go figure. I rarely slate the NHS - or at least I try not to, because it's free and there IS private healthcare available if you're willing to pay for a better service - but wow, you guys. Seriously. Please hurry it up.
ALSO it's officially hat season! This means its acceptable to wear a hat at all occasions. All of them. Even in class. But if you get in trouble for that, it isn't my fault. I'm currently wearing my tiger hat - I'll try and post a picture of it here but the blogger iPhone app really hasn't improved.
I went to see Anna Karenina last night! It was beautiful! I cried! A lot! Exclamation point! Seriously though, it was gorgeous. I'm afraid I don't know much about cinematography, but they filmed it in a really pretty way. Kiera Knightley was stunning, all the dresses were so beautiful, the story broke my heart (as it did when I read the book)... ahhhhhh. So today I went out and bought the book in English (because before I'd only read it in Russian) and seeing all the Russian words like 'kasha' and stuff is a little mind-messing. Kasha's a bad example. You know what I mean. Also seeing the patronymics written down is odd, but maybe that's just me.
I started off thinking I had loads to say, but as usual I've run out pretty early. Sorry folks. (no one cares.)

Chapter Twelve.

Okay whew lots of things to talk about today.
First, I'm going to start with the bad news, because then I can end with some good news.
I went to the doctor when I got back from Canada, because I had a little lump in my neck. I couldn't see it because it was toward the back, so I assumed it was an infected bug bite. The woman at the doctor's said she didn't know what it was, but I was to come back in two weeks if it didn't go away. I went back and got referred to a different doctor for two weeks after. Anyway, I went back finally to the doctor on Tuesday of this week and all of a sudden this little lump on my neck is about an inch bigger and is being called a 'tumour'. Pretty quick diagnosis, I thought, but there you go.
So they don't know if it's cancerous or what it's doing or anything. There's a high chance it could be sinister or become sinister (because of the shape of it, or something), so I need an operation to remove it. I've never had an operation before; hell, I've never even broken a bone before. I'm ashamed to say that I've fallen into the 'symptom googling' trap, which hasn't raised morale at all. However, I'm young, which means that there's less chance of complications. So y'know. That's a Big Thing.
Good news: I passed all my exams. I got a mixture of 1s, 2s and an A (apart from chemistry where I got a 3), so that's nice. Also, college started this week. It's like a part-time thing where I go on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons to do Psychology because the school doesn't run a course in it and stuff. So that's nice. I think it's going to be really interesting, although I'm not sure if it is yet.
Farewell for now~

Chapter Eleven (this one is about loads of really important and interesting things and stuff).

I have LOTS AND LOTS of things to talk about. I say that now but I'll probably end up only writing one paragraph, crying because it's too short to mean anything, deleting it then crying myself to sleep because I can't consider myself a fabulous internet-famous blogger any more. And that, THAT would be a tragedy.
Basically, I need to talk about a whole lot of shit that seems to be going down on Twitter. I really can't believe I just used the phrase "going down" in that context; let's move on.
So this afternoon everyone started tweeting angry things about the government allegedly moving the legal age of consent down to 14. As in, fourteen-year-olds could seemingly now have sex with each other and that would be perfectly legal.
Okay, firstly, no. The government can't and don't just make snap decisions like that. They need to have a consultation and vote on it and there is NOT A CHANCE IN HELL that most of the government would agree to lowering the legal age of consent to that. It just.. no. NO.
My second point: when has the legal age of consent ever, ever, EVER made an iota of difference to ANYONE? When has the sentence "Sorry, I can't have sex with you, I'm underage" ever even come close to escaping a teenager's lips? NEVER. That's when.
Thirdly: the only symptom of underage sex I've ever experienced is homosexuality. There you have it, kids. Don't have sex in your early teens or you'll be gay.*
*only the case if you have sex with someone of the same gender.
To conclude: It's not happening, and nobody will pay any more attention to it if it does. But it isn't happening, so that's irrelevant.
Second on my list of interesting things:
Work today was surreal. This guy came in (I work in a hospital cafe) wheeling himself in a wheelchair - well obviously because what else would you wheel yourself in inside a hospital - and he had one foot on the ground which he was kinda dragging along. Anyway, he stopped letting his foot move for whatever reason but kept wheeling his chair and just RAN RIGHT OVER HIS OWN FOOT. I swear, I felt awful for laughing but I couldn't help it. I had to hide behind the cash register and sit on the floor and hold my stomach because it hurt from laughing. I'm definitely going to Hell after that, but I don't even care. This woman came in later on and asked for a coffee, which I gave her, then asked me if it was a cappuccino or a latte. As if I might have the power to choose her drinks for her. She only asked for a coffee.
Yeah, I had more to say but I've forgotten. Highers are horrible. I'm not going to Leeds festival and my inner (and outer) Cure obsessive is miserable about this. I want some ice cream. It's time to stop typing.

Chapter Ten.

RIGHT, IT'S BEEN A WEEK, TIME TO BLOG.
Started school again yesterday. It was crazy as SHIT. (I left after lunch.) I'm hoping to apply to Edinburgh University after this year to study Politics/International Relations because I'm phenomenally dull. The course actually sounds sort of relevant to a career in journalism which is what I'm aiming towards, so that's nice and stuff.
I'm trying to think of even-slightly-interesting things to write here but there's nothing. NOTHING. Maybe I AM phenomenally dull.
MAIRI CAME HOME FROM CANADA YAY!!!! AND WE WENT TO SEE THE DARK KNIGHT RISES AGAIN AND I CRIED YAY!!!! And now I'm listening to the Wicked soundtrack and wailing because I was MADE for musical theatre. I'm intending to write my own musical, about a boy trapped in a musical. It'll be like HSM except with one character not participating in the spontaneous-singing thing. Next Andrew Lloyd Webber right here, errbody.
Sudden thought I just had: how come the word 'fiery' isn't spelt 'firey'? Like, how does it get from 'fire' to 'fiery'? ILLOGICAL.
It's time for me to stop typing.

Chapter- fuck it, I don't even remember.

3am blogging because I can and because fuck you that's why.
I'm home! And this time I intend on staying home, I'm not fucking off anywhere else any time soon. Other than school, but that's irrelevant. My brother starts high school soon as well. I'm getting old.
I've been thinking about a whole lot of things recently. When we were in Amsterdam, I had a load of time to just think (because my family are boring and also never talk to me) and I ended up on a very serious topic:
BATMAN.
I think the best and worst thing about the world is that Batman - the entire "Batman" concept of a masked vigilante fighting against anarchists - could happen in the real world. I mean, it wouldn't, but the idea is (relatively) plausible. I think the main obvious difference between Marvel and DC is that DC comics and characters (at least the ones currently in the spotlight) tend to be more believable - as believable as comic book characters can be. Marvel, for example: Thor and Loki are Norse gods; Captain America was frozen in ice for 70 years; Spider-Man was bitten by a genetically mutated spider and thus gained spider powers (just for the record, we're discussing Marvel in general, not The Avengers. I wouldn't be so foolish to think that Spider-Man was an Avenger)... the list goes on. DC, on the other hand (I'll currently focus solely on Batman as the Man of Steel movie isn't out yet and don't even get me STARTED on the impracticalities of Superman): Batman is a billionaire with the resources, money and enterprise to build himself various gadgets and suits and whatnot and he fights villains which are solely from earth who believe they're doing the world a favour. It just.. I don't know. It seems somehow more likely to happen than The Avengers. Which I guess means Tom Hiddleston won't be subjugating me any time soon. Sigh.
It's now 3.25am, which means it's taken me 25 or so minutes to write a paragraph about Batman. I think that, if anything, is a sign that it's time to go to bed.

Chapter Eight: That time I went to a gay bar.

OH JESUS THANK GOD I'M ALIVE.
Basically, today was the day of Amsterdam Gay Pride and there was this parade over the Amstel river and yeah that bit was good and pretty and wheeeee. Then we planned to go out for tea, the family apparently forgetting that TODAY IS PRIDE DAY and TOWN WILL BE MOBBED.
We were walking to wagamama's and this girl who had glasses and a blue fringe and looked sort of like me but pretty and had a smaller face smiled at me and I smiled back out of general politeness, then all of a sudden she was standing in front of us pretending to look at a building. She kept looking over at me and I looked away because awkward, then when we walked down another street she was somewhere close again. I smiled at her and while the family were inspecting a map she came over and said something in Dutch to me. I pointed out that I don't speak Dutch and she said something about going somewhere (in English) and got all close to me and dsibdoshicjeif too weird. I told her I had a girlfriend and she looked all sad and said 'ok' and walked off and aw I felt so bad I think I ruined her night. Or is that conceited? I don't know o.o either way, I think that was the first time anyone's like, registered any sort of interest in me in public ever. It was TERRIFYING.
Anyway, after we'd been to wagamama's they all went to sit in a pub and I joined this big huge street party thing that was happening. I got a beer and wandered and danced with a few people and stuff. I went back to the pub and Gordon gave me €50 and made me promise to be home by half ten and they fucked off home. Naturally, I went to a gay bar. I drank a lot but didn't get drunk (my body has decided NO MORE DRUNK FOR ME. I've been drinking almost non-stop since I arrived but not even a hint of drunk-ness has occurred. It's miserable). I stood/half-danced about for a bit then went for a walk. Somehow I ended up on a boat party where I drank more (people kept handing me drinks lol), then wandered off home. And now I'm here relaying this story to you.
This blog post had little point. I think I'll leave it now.

Chapter Seven.

So, this time last week I was in Canada and all of a sudden, somehow, I'm in Amsterdam! I'm here with the other (and considerably more insane) half of my family, watching the Olympics, slightly tipsy. I've resorted to drink purely to numb the pain of family holidaying.
Amsterdam's pretty cool, but I preferred Canada. The stepfather's promised to take me to a coffeeshop some time this week, and Mother seems unfazed by the idea. Also, I'm considering getting some sort of piercing but the truth is I can't decide where. (suggestions welcome.) I've decided that this is so that I can fight my general fear of needles and embrace it, or something.
My family have become unfunny drunk. To start with, they were mildly entertaining, and now they're frustrating. I'm drowning them out by singing The Star-Spangled Banner very loudly; it isn't working. (I'm also singing it because I'm trying to teach myself lots of national anthems - so far, I know the Scottish, English/British, Canadian and almost the American one. I'm going to be like the boy in Looking For Alaska was with last words.)
Moving on. We're staying in a houseboat. It moves a little bit which is unsettling, and I'm contemplating jumping into the canal purely out of desperation.
I'm going to leave this blog post now. If I haven't written another within a week, I'm at the bottom of the Amstel river. (that's a joke.)

Chapter Six.

Wahey I'm back in the UK! It stinks of cigarettes and disappointment. Currently, I'm sitting in the departure lounge of Heathrow (and will be for the next 4 hours because my flight's not until 3pm). It isn't as mobbed as I thought it would be, considering, y'know, the Games start today. That said, it is pretty busy. It took me ages to find a seat with at least one other seat either side of it to avoid proximity issues.
I'm horrendously hungry. I missed breakfast on the flight over because I was asleep - this happens every bloody time. After a very unemotional goodbye to Dad (where he told me not to take any shit from anyone and patted me on the shoulder), I cried for about 17 seconds then realised all the solitaire playing time I was wasting, so I played solitaire instead. The plane was almost completely full, apart from one seat: the seat next to me. It was bliss. I lay down on the two seats sideways to go to sleep, then fell off the seats when the plane 'experienced some turbulence'. I watched two episodes of Alcatraz, which I fear may become my new obsession. It's BRILLIANT.
As we were landing I stuck my face up close to the glass and watched London. I didn't see the big glass building which I think is a hospital which was probably the biggest disappointment of my life. We flew over a football stadium which had all these building works right next to it and all I was thinking was 'oh god, please don't be for the Olympics because that would just be so bloody British'. I feel as though the Olympics is a little like the Titanic: the rest of the (optimistic) world is watching, thinking 'haha! they said it was impossible, but this ship just can't sink!' while the British are holding on tight as the entire thing crashes and burns.
Anyway, as we were flying over, I watched all the tiny little houses and the even tinier little cars and I wondered what would happen if the pilot just decided to ruin someone's life and land on their house or something. Like, if he just made some snap decision all of a sudden to destroy something. It was strange, the houses looked like toys that I could just flick over with my finger but when I tried I just hit the glass and it was a little uncomfortable at the end of my finger for a few minutes.
Anyway. I'm hungry as fuck, I'm away to get food now.

Chapter Five.

I've been neglecting this poor blog horrendously over the last week-and-a-bit. I apologise profusely. It's because I'm in Canada (!!!!) and I only have my phone for internetual connections. I've had to download the blogger app - which, for the record, is utter wank (GO AHEAD GOOGLE, DELETE MY ACCOUNT, I DON'T CARE, IT WON'T MAKE YOUR SHITEY APP ANY BETTER) - purely to write this post.
So, a recap of this week's news:
The plane journey over here wasn't too bad. I watched The Devil Wears Prada and Pulp Fiction and an episode of House and I sat next to this Indian lady who told me all about how she had to go home (to Halifax) from Mauritius and I just DIDN'T CARE but I let her keep talking anyway.
The next day - I think it was the next day, but I don't really remember - Lorna (stepmum), Louise (half-sister), Dad and I went out on a lake in the boat which my dad built. When he gets bored, he builds things. I would post a picture of it, but this app is so shitty I don't think I know how. Anyway, I saw a bald eagle while in/on the lake, which was cool. I thought they lived only in America, but then realised it probably smelt extreme patriotism and found itself in Canada by mistake.
Dad and Lorna have been convincing me (trying to convince me) to go to university over here in Halifax. Which is all very well, but I don't want to go to university at all. Well, I don't think I do. I don't know.
We drove to Quebec on Thursday/Friday, apparently just for the craic. We stayed there for three days and did lots of French things and Dad and Lorna shouted at me a lot for not listening to their bullshit, then drove back on my birthday, which Dad forgot about. In fact, everyone forgot. That, so far, has been the highlight of my trip.
I can't stand this side of the family. This evening (we're back in Nova Scotia) Dad came into my room and talked at me for 45 minutes about participation and "family life" - he told me that just because I have "family problems" doesn't mean that I should disconnect myself from them. I think I missed the part of my life where I actually HAD family problems. But, y'know, whatever.
Anyway. Only two days until I go home then I get to go see Mairi yay!!!!!!! This makes me happy.
I think that's everything I have left to say. I'll write something more interesting at another time. (I just lied and we both know it.) GOODNIGHT.

Chapter Four.

Today was the sort of day which makes me happy that I am alive and I have a girlfriend who loves me and whom I love. I forget how lucky I am sometimes to have Mairi but it's glorious when I remember.

Let's move on.

So, it's only four days until I go to Canada ^____^ I'm going for two weeks to visit my dad and his family. I would say more, but I'm sort of sick of talking about it (every time, EVERY TIME I tell someone I'm going to Canada they bring in the Spanish Inquisition. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.) Anyway, I don't suppose I'll be able to blog much when I'm in Canada, as my dad tends to check up on my internet history. If I'm sneaky (which of course, I always am) I'm sure I will. Although, since nobody reads this blog, I don't suppose it matters.

Mairi isn't staying here tonight, so I've been watching David Bowie, Ellen Degeneres and Monty Python videos for the best part of three hours. This is why I could never live on my own.

To be honest, this was only really a post made for the sake of being a post. I don't actually have anything to say. EDIT: ALSO, I remembered something I was going to write in this but forgot. Basically, I've come to the conclusion that I must move out because I don't have enough shelf space for all my books any more. The solution is not to buy more shelves or to throw away books, but to just buy a new house to keep them in.

Chapter Three.

3rd July, 2012
Goodness, loads has happened since the last post. (I don't know why I still write these; nobody reads them.)
I went to see my grandparents on Sunday. Usually that's nice, if you can ignore their relentless energy and general nosiness. "How are you?" "How's your.. friend?" "Are you coming to see us again soon?" "What are you reading just now?" "What did you get in your exams?" In addition, Mother tends to be grumpy and in-your-face when we're with the grandparents, so everyone seemed sort of hard to get along with.
We met in Pitlochry, which is around halfway between Forres and Edinburgh, and went for tea/coffee and then a walk. We walked up a steep hill, and there came a point around halfway up when I realised I didn't really care if I reached the top or if I fell. I started taking tiny steps and concentrating on my speed in relation to Mother's and Grandma's, so that I didn't think about falling down. It passed, as these things do, and we went home eventually.
I would write about how I saw Mairi on Sunday night, but the fact is that I see her all the time so I don't know if I should write about it or not. I think, unless I say, assume that Mairi is staying at my house. Yes.
Caitlin Moran's written a new book - Moranthology, out on Sept 13th. Coincidentally, the day after my CAMHS appointment. I called them up yesterday (CAMHS being the Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service, and yesterday being Monday), and after being kept waiting for a long time eventually was put through to someone who could "help". I asked for their earliest appointment, as apparently I'm an "urgent case", and they gave me September 12th. They also managed to get my name wrong, the name of my school wrong, and thought they should send a letter to my home address. I can't help feeling as though they're useless. My guidance teacher AND the depute head told me so.
So, now I'm just waiting until I need to go out and meet Mairi from work. OH, I just remembered, on Sunday night we went to go and see Gabrielle Aplin! I almost passed out, I love Gabrielle so much. I've been waiting for maybe like, two years to go see her? And finally I did, and she was brilliant. Made me unspeakably happy.
Right, I'm going out now.

Chapter Two.

30th June 2012.
So, today was Pride. I wasn't even planning on going until Leah asked me to go with her. Mairi and I had plans but she managed to plan over them so I supposed I might as well go.
I don't know. I mean, it was okay, as these things go, but it always feels a little flat. Like, most of the people that go seem sort of embarrassed to be there - as though they're self-conscious to begin with, and they feel like they're being looked at. Sort of makes you wonder why they're going on a very public march to begin with? Either way, it was alright. I picked up loads of leaflets and stuff, and I think I'll stick them on my wall or do something nice with them.
No other news. I just wanted to make a post.

Chapter One.

The confusing thing about Blogspot is that it won't actually tell me what the URL for my blog is. I know what the title is, but how can I find it if I'm not logged in? The micro-traumas of my life.

Starting a text-based blog would be a hell of a lot easier if I had a consulting detective as a flatmate, or a serial killer or something. Or if I was interesting or funny or even in any way entertaining. Or just, y'know, if anything ever actually happened in my life.
I suppose, no matter what I write in here, I'll be embarrassed in six months time reading it back, so it doesn't matter so much what I put because it'll cause emotional pain to read anyway. So, I guess I should write some sort of summary of myself which will make me cringe horrendously in a few weeks.
So, I'm Meg. I'm mostly Scottish. I fucking love owls, orange juice, Chinese food and a number of other things which will probably become apparent over time. I write a lot of really, really shit poetry and short stories which usually end up scrunched up and left to rot in my room or in the recycling bin. I have a girlfriend who washes dishes before putting them in the dishwasher and gives me all her clothes, she's fab.I like Sherlock (ie the British TV series), as may be apparent from the blog title (assuming that it is, in fact, A Study In Gay).I read a lot of books about misunderstood women with mental health issues - Girl Interrupted, The Bell Jar, A Room Of One's Own etc. Actually, I lied about A Room Of One's Own. I only read a few pages of it and the words were printed too small so I stopped. I'm well-practised in the art of meditation. I think this is because occasionally I'm just too lazy to think so I sit very still for a while and let my mind go blank and then BAM I'm meditating.
I think that's sort of it.