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.
Saturday 30 June 2012
Tuesday 26 June 2012
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.
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.
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