Scraps of Literacy

For some reason, the poetry came pouring out last night, probably because the prose has dried up over the past month or so. Make that nearly two months, because that was when I last wrote a chapter for Conventio Custodis. I've still got that next chapter of The Saboteurs to write before my readers suddenly decide that I've dropped off the face of the earth and stop checking for updates because that would be ouch. Especially seeing as how well those two are doing.



This whole posting on TV thing (hotel room, internet on TV, score...) is weird. For once thing it's refusing me to press enter whenever composing an email or, in this case, writing something here, so I've got to go hands on and write Html which is really quite a pain. And it seems a bit different than LJ. I mean, why is the italic html < e m > (without spaces, obviously)? Oh well, at least the the other tags still work perfectly fine. Hey, what gives?! I can go on a new line via enter on the html function but not with the normal view? WTF? The mind, it boggles.

Anyway, slightly angsty poetry ahoy. Don't ask me where this came from.


Addiction

It's always been so easy
To let you know my heart
So easy to let you in
Watch you tear me apart.

You're a drug I need,
My only hope for release,
Your coldness is my addiction,
I need the cut of your kiss.

How has it come to this?
I'm lying in bed shivering from our ice,
Crying tears inside
Letting go of all things normal and nice.

I'm a junkie desperate for a fix,
You're the heroin killing me inside,
I've tried to quit you before,
But all I could do was hide.

I tried running from you,
From the whiplash temptation of your smile,
No one ever said I was wise,
Believing your sweet whispers and deceiving wiles.

I've lost what little sanity I had,
When you touch me, I'm lost,
And I'm crying out in anger inside,
Just realising my naivety's high cost.

I want to leave you,
To let go of your hold on me;
But I can't be released
From the skillful web you weave,
All I can do is beg you, please;
My addiction's increased.



That was written as a set, but it's the one I prefer. The first was too long, the second lacks something. Anyway, here's the second:

Too Late

I've watched you from afar,
Hungry for all the little things you do,
Needing to hear your laugh,
To bask in the sunshine warmth of your smile;
It's been years since I met you,
Years since I realised my fate,
I've tried to stop it,
But it's all too late.

You're happy with someone else,
Arms wrapped around your date,
Shining like the beacon you've always been,
So efforlessly you drew me in;
I can't look at the love on your face,
Or the joy you bring to someone else,
Tear my heart out,
I'm in pain.

I'm always too late,
Too slow on the uptake,
So now I'm sitting around dreaming of release,
Your lips, your touch, your teeth.
I want you to tear me apart,
Bleed me onto the earth,
I'm in pain.

I want your hugs, your smiles, your touch,
I want all you give her for free,
But I know that it's all too late.


NB. The original last three lines saw me writing: "I want all you give him for free, for some reason. I thought it sounded better. For the sake of posting it and from saving myself from some unwanted question, the sex referred to in the poem has changed. That is all. If you're a guy you can change it to the original in your head. I still think it sounds better that way.

All the world's a stage...

The entirety of the school is in somewhat "fancy dress". It's so weird. But incredible. Evs, Becca Barrett, Vicky Noonan and Alex Walvis are dressed up as the Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles. Two girls from UC5 are dressed up as Obe Wan and Darth Vader with their respective light sabres. Ellie W-H is wearing a bright mustard yellow blazer, a white t-shirt, pink and black striped mini skirt, pink leopard print tights and sparkly ballet flats with black leg warmers. Others still come around with jewellery depicting the peace symbol and flowers drawn on their faces with eyeliner. Nearly a thousand girls walked down to school in dress from the 50s to the 80s, and lord the looks we were getting.

I look properly punk. It's weird. I have slight tendencies of it underneath it all, but this is very blatant and in your face. I've gone for the uber tack of all tackiness. I went for blood red nail polish, big chunky silver (and black) jewellery, spiked/bigged up hair, black on black with my black jeans, black Che Guevara wife beater, black leather jacket... the only colour I have are in my nails, the battered blue of my Converses and the silver on my jewellery. Oh, and I have lightly tinted aviators on, as a finishing touch, not to mention thick black eyeliner, layers of mascara and dark lipstick. My eyes feel heavy. It's painful. But I needed the extra layers, otherwise the mascara wouldn't show, and I definitely needed it.

The garishness of colour amuses me. Rosie Lilis is dressed up in a pink jumpsuit of her mother's with a bright blue scarf tied as a headband. Tzen is wearing bright blue trousers that matches her bright blue eyeshadow that goes up to her eyebrows and past the corners of her eyes. Emma F is wearing a bright orange top. Tze looks like a mental asylum escapee. Helen, because she's just an inner goth, has dressed up as, what else, Goth. Her reason for it is that the 80s marks the beginnings of goth-style. She looks like, and I have told her this, Jack from the Nightmare Before Christmas, all tall and skeletal and pale and dark.

I blame my brother for my current interest in anime and learning Japanese. As Echizen says in Prince of Tennis, though: Mada Mada Dane.

Captain's Log, February 14th 2007

In answer to Adlin's demand of, and I quote, "Blog. More." here is my next post. To be fair, these are probably not going to be very frequent things, as I am, sadly, really far too lazy for my own good. But I do so hate disappointing people, so hereby prompts my post on the dreaded day of all single people or rather, people with taste, St. Valentine's.

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Valentines day in general. If you have a significant other, go right ahead and use the ready excuse to shower each other with affection and love and all those other sick making things that are becoming far too trivial and people are being far too blase about these days. Don't get me started on the concept of teenaged dating and the overuse of the word "love". I call myself a pragmatist and I'll readily admit that I'm a cynic. I don't believe in the capability that over-hormal teenagers have in being "in love". I believe in lust, in chemistry, in extreme like, but Love? The big L-O-V-E? I have such high expectations of it. My parents have been together for over 30 years, my grandparents...far longer, obviously. I'm looking for that.

On another note, Mike annoys me, and yet he also knows how to make me into a puddling mess of girlish-ness. It's annoying. He sent me a Valentines text. He also said that 'Suffocated Love' by Tricky is the song that is just us. I checked out the lyrics, because I'd never heard the song before, and I really don't know what to make of it. I mean, really. Help me out, here:

It's too good, it's too nice
She makes me finish too quick
Is it love? No not love
She turns my sexual trick
She says she's mine, I know she lies
First, I scream, then I cry
You take a second of me
You beckon, I'll bleed
She suffocates me
She suffocates me with suggestions
I asked 'do you feel the same?'
And later on, maybe
I'll tell you my real name
She's so good, she's so bad
You understand, I can't expand
Now I could just kill a man
She's on her knees, I say please
I cross her city lines, she's got fine highs

I think ahead of you, I think instead of you
Will you spend your life with me
And stifle me?
I know why the caged bird sings, I know why

Forgive and you're forgiven
Kingdom come
Can you wait for yours
I need to taste some
Life's really funny
I laugh while she spends my money
She's my freak I guess I'm weak
You ask what is this?
Mind your business
I pass idle days with my idle ways
'Til the twelfth of always
She walks my hallways
I keep her warm, but we never kiss
She cuts my slender wrists
Let's waste some more time
I sign the dotted line
A different level She-devil

You ask what is this?
Mind your business
I pass idle days with my idle ways
'Til the twelfth of always
She walks my hallways
I keep her warm but we never kiss
She says I'm weak and immature
But it's cool I know what money's for
Push comes to shove
Her tongue's her favourite weapon, attack
I slap her back, she mostly hates me


Lou says that I should be insulted. Strangely and perversely, some part of me feels... I don't know... empowered that I have that effect on him. I'm still irritated, though. Ah vell. It just means he'll get a piece of my mind later on.


Oh hell, I'm late. More later.

eta. 30 mins after original post: Done with activity of the day. Feel somewhat blah. Some strange happenings are occuring in school. Somehow, yesterday, someone got bitten by the public menace bug and decided to trash the school. The porters think that it has to be someone from the inside. The hallway of the sixth form entrance has been splattered with raspberry yoghurt, a pair of knickers were hung on the wall, next to it a poster with the words "Enjoy Valentines Day While You Can" written on it in Chiller font. Very creepy and reminiscent of that bizarre Valentines Day massacre-type movie David Boreanaz was in a few years ago.

The sixth form common room was upended. Sofas and chairs were thrown around, pillows were slashed... it's been locked now because of it, and my fellow sixth formers are in a complete rage about it. It's literal seeing red, now. The toilets have all been messed up. The Lower College (years 7-9) toilets were smeared with grease or vaseline, and someone spray-painted the anarchy symbol on the wall and posted up pictures of Marilyn Manson and people having sex on the walls. The same can be said for the Upper College (Years 10 and 11) and the sixth form toilets as well.

I know that it might not seem like much, for any normal school it's somewhat average behaviour or at least it isn't given to this much sensationalism, but this is the Cheltenham Ladies' College, one of the top boarding schools in the UK... even the world. With the student body being made up of some of the best families, plus with the headmistress' emphasis on "lady-like behaviour", this is actually outrageous behaviour. Not to mention this week is the week of Scholarship exams in school. What a thing to show prospective students and parents, eh? The staff are absolutely livid. They're probably going to end up being far more strict on us for our leaving pranks, which is an absolute shame. They're never very lenient, anyway.

Other news: tomorrow is C-day. It's the prefects' day of entertainment. Each sector of the student body and staff have to dress up as a certain thing. Lower College and Upper College have to dress up from 50s - 70s dress. Sixth form in 80s and staff are anything from Victorian to 80s. It's a pity, I wish a prefect had had the same idea as me and told the teachers to turn up "Greek". How amusing would it be to be taught by someone in a toga for a day? *smirk* I want to see that. Knowing Mr. Chalmers, he'd tie-dye it pink. Where else can you get a cross-dressing, guitar playing Chemistry teacher in a band made up of teachers but here? We're quite unique, I must say. And Mr. C is one of our accepted eccentricities.

I'm going 80s punk. I've got black jeans, battered converses (although they're not high tops...but I'm not going to buy new shoes for this, dammit!), a vest top ripped at the sides and fastened with safety pins and my black leather jacket. Plus, I've got supremely tacky "rock and roll" type jewellery. I'm going Billy Idol but without the bleach blonde hair. I'd say Blondie, but... also not so much with the blonde.

Anyway, I have class. Further updates shortly.


p.s. Was that enough of an update for you, Ad?

Snow

It's snowing, today, the kind of snowfall that brings to mind not England and especially not in February, but something more mystical, like I'm caught in Narnia. It's a thick constant fall that was present when I woke up, and I feel miffed that they didn't say hello to me when they arrived in the middle of the night. It's a thick carpet of white fluff, sinking my shoes in deep to leave imprints about an inch deep and slipped inside my shoes and turned my ears, nose and hands into ice blocks. I never longed for hot chocolate as much as I did then, and I never felt as elated.

The school looks beautiful covered in snow and surrounded by the powdered bare branches of trees that stand in military-esque lines over the whitened lawn and quad. The dome of the observatory is half dusted with white and the spire of the GAP students'/language assistants' apartments pierces the sky like some kind of medieval turret of some kind of castle. And me, in the dreary, ugly old 70s modern concrete and glass of the sixth form building still feel like a princess, because the snow has magic never before realised.

Forget Hogwarts, forget Harry Potter and his mystical world of magic and beaurocracy. The Cheltenham Ladies' College's Nouveau Gothic/ugly concrete slab combination building surrounded by snow covered white grounds? The prettiest thing ever seen.


I'm such a sucker for blogs, first LJ, now this. Ah well, at least the techies haven't blocked this yet, and I do need somewhere for me to vent. I've missed my venting sessions and the moments of angst/emo-tears-of-woe. Though to be fair, that hasn't happened in a while, which is a good thing to my mind. Gospel Choir seemed to be quite the hit this morning, and nothing beats hearing Jail House Rock in the morning, to wake you up.