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.
Thursday, 9 August 2012
Saturday, 4 August 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
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.)
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.)
Wednesday, 25 July 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, 24 July 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, 8 July 2012
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.
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
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.
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.
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