Saturday 25 August 2012

The Realisation that hit me at 4.58 in morning (Oh, why must this war continue?)

Sleep is boring. 

Okay, sleeping isn’t actually the boring part. Its self can be rather interesting with the whole dreaming and disturbing oddness that comes with them. It’s the getting to sleep that the issue. I was inspired to notion of it being boring from BBC Sherlock and if you follow my twitter (@RachelVerna) or my Youtube vlog (all links can be found at the side) you will know that I’m quite a big Sherlock fan (working my way through the original Complete stories of Sherlock Holmes by ACD). While lying awake one night after many a night struggling to find rest, I realise that I just can’t shut my mind off. 

With the lights out, my mind goes into overdrive.  Every possible thought goes through my mind, what I should have done that day, what I need to do tomorrow, why the hell did I say that to such and such in the P6, Oh that would be good plot line or I totally think they going to have that in the next episode…such is the nonsense that comes to me at 4am.

And even if I can get my mind to go blank, then my senses go into overdrive. Suddenly, I can hear everything that going in around my house. Whether it’s the TV that been left on in the living room or the buzzing of bug flying around my bedroom, it’s enough to keep me up till sun rise. I end up getting out the bed and getting my ipod. 

But then the patterns in the darkness would come, but I always fight the unknown of the darkness and my wondrous imagination, by having a light source.   However, my imagination is too good to be conquered by something that simple and will frankly always win the war. I only take the humble battle most nights. I will caught shapes in the corner of my eyes that are suddenly something; I will create layered horror stories in the middle of night involuntary.  To think I use to have night terrors.

Even in my deepest need for sleep, these things all still keep me awake. Most night I give and paddle about, reading (don’t even suggest that makes you tired, if you actually enjoy reading it will waken you more) or watching whatever crap happens to be on at five am. The Curse of an Active Brain.

So in this bring me to the conclusion that trying to get to sleep is boring and most nights I wouldn’t even try if wasn’t for the matter that I’m actually having to be do stuff during the day. As of this Monday I’ll have to be getting up at six in the morning instead of going to sleep, all to catch a bus to college. I won’t get home until half sixish as well, I imagine my bed will be the most appealing once I arrive home. This will be my Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays for the next year. The Price of an Education. 

For those interested, the orientation day was as boring as I imagined and no I never talked to anyone which is what both my parents asked me. Also I missed out of seeing (in person) my Best friend (yes, Miss English) because of it. As the theme of sleepless nights has continue, you would be correct in thinking that my problem from last week has not been solved. God, I can’t believe summer is officially over now (in my mind it’s over with the term start). So Farewell to summer this year and Farewell to you this week. Wish me luck for college.

Saturday 18 August 2012

Sleeping Pattrens Gone Wack (The dread of Starting College)

Hi dearies, I woke at the delightful time five clock in the afternoon. That's fine when you take into consideration, I went to sleep at seven/eightish. I just have trouble sleeping at night, they something about it that rebels against the notation of at this time. As soon as the sun rises is when I feel tired, even then my brain won't shut down happily.

 This will become quite the issue since I'll be starting college soon. It making its self know this Wednesday and then I'll be starting next week. Frankly, this fills me with dread. Being all autistic like my bad arse self, I plainly just don't like change of any kind. I know I have to do this, it too late to change my mind about the whole thing. Yet I still don't have a clue as what I want to with my life.

I've sort of have the grades for Art, not so much anything else. Why does life have to be so depressing? Why can't I get my genius out of my head. I know it just as stupid as studying Art and don't have the grades for it, but god English keeps calling to me.

In attempt of fixing the whole sleep thing I'm staying up till a least 7pm on Sunday before going to bed. I shall get through by reading, the internet and cutting my own hair. I should be drawing, but fuck that... Oh, I've got to get over this stupidity. I'm dumb on paper and that's not going to change. If I had a goal maybe it would be easier.

Saturday 11 August 2012

Exams and No Longer Young (Carer)

So I got my exam results and I failed everything.

Okay, that's not true, but I wanted the opportunity to lie about my exam results since I was not able to do the fake in real life. Because my parents knew my results before me.  Thanks MySQA, though it is sort of my vault since I should have change the phone number. Basically, my father and I swapped sim cards therefore phone numbers. Having signed up for MySQA  last year and never changing the number. My dad (who never uses his phone) got a text message that contend my exam results. He open it, then went on to tell my mother and after I told them I don't want to know, they told me.

So you're thinking this is where I'm going to tell you, but I'm not since I'm trying to build tension. Though, probably quite badly. So my results went like this.

Higher Biology- B
Higher English- B
Higher Maths- B

To see me opening the Result letter go here:

Not that impressive and my mother persistence that it is, is just rather annoying. I have five Highers at B grade, but that's over 3 years which works out as being average of 1.6667 per year. Not at all impressive. No matter how good the sob story most universities will look at my grades and straight up reject me. Even if I had got five Bs in one year, that not good enough either. They want As. My mother doesn't understand that. They basically nothing I can with my Highers when it comes to Uni.

Glad I got a B in English since it was some what in doubt if I would get it.

Other big news of the week is that I'm no longer a Young Carer apparently. I knew you were old once you hit 19, mum lied to me. What I really mean is that I'm no longer part of the YC group. I went on day trip with them on Tuesday which I like to refer as Three Bs, Three bike falls day, since I got my results and fell of a mountain bike three times. I like the Lazer tag, though painballs would have made it more extreme. Rest of was just bah and pain.

I basically fell off a mountain bike at speed three times. Hurting myself the worse the last time. Yay for bruises. It does actually hurt to walk and I also think I might have done something to my knee that only coming out to play today. I did scape my arms a bite and I bruised my palms.

I've got to say I'm loving the patterns. I feel crazy art brewing.

On Thursday, had my last one to one meeting thing with my (former) worker... Yeah, no longer young carer, so I take that means I can go around saying I'm auld.

So this week has just me feeling old and sore. The future looks so bright right now.

Saturday 4 August 2012

Death Train with what I'm doing instead of writing.

Hi, I'm off to watch the Olympics, Celebrate my sibs 21st Birthday with family and get blown up by Fireworks. Well, hopefully not the last one. This week here is part of something I wrote for Camp NaNoWriMo, but frankly is useless for my actual story.

Death Train

I step on to the platform; I look across the train track. There was no one on the opposite platform. I scan the rest of the Victorian Train station. There no sign of anyone else, but I know better than to presume that true. 

“I didn’t come here to play games,” I shout out, it echoes as though trying to convince me that I am talking to myself. “Fine then, I’ll just leave.” I turn around to illustrate my words.

A blast of wind blows behind me, I stop and turn back to see a train entering the station at top speed.  I sigh at the sight. The train of Death was sadly familiar to me and it only pulled into the station at nights where a great many lives had been lost at the same place and time. Their spirits would soon be here and it will only leave once all the tickets given had been collected back. 

It slows down to a stop with one of its doors. I step back and admire the great sight of it. It was modelled after the mighty steam trains that were once the normal. It was because these trains that a vessel that large was needed for land.  Ships sinking had never been a problem as no one was ever around to experiences the portal that took the dead to other side or were too engaged in not dying to notice.  The feel of death was known by all, even if they had never experienced it before.

“Hello Heroica,” I smile at the use of my ancient name.

“Hello Death,” I say turning around. He scorns at the use of his modern name. I walk to the top of the train. He stands on the opening door of the engine. 

“I really wish people would not refer to me as that. I am merely the organiser of death,” He says for the millionth time. 

“People have forgotten that there is an organiser of death,” I respond with the annoying fact. This was true for so many parts of the mystic world and it was only getting worse. People used to worship magic, but have replaced it with science, even forgetting its gods. “Why don’t I just call you D?”

“You have always ways call me D, unless you are in one of your annoying moods,” he replies in his serious tone, though almost friendly. You always have to be a bit sombre when dealing with death, so many people see it as the end now.

“So why do I get the pleasure of train spotting?” It fun to dance around topics, especially when I know it can’t be good. It never is when D calls. 

“The same reason I do,” he says simply. I stare at him for a moment trying to figure out of what he implying. It hits me when I see the first of the spirits arrive.

“They weren’t on the list, were there?”  They were clearly all young, which didn’t really mean anything in tends of death, but wanting to stop someone before they done what they meant to do with this live, it’s obvious to stop them when they’re young.  

“Yes,” he said simply. Sometimes I wish he would just spit out the important part.

“How much damage has been done?”

“Not much, there were a few potential protectors or healers, that “damage” is easily repairable. However, one of great importance was on the bus.”

“Is this why you needed to see me?”

“Yes, there a chance she can still live.”

“She’s not yet dead?” I ask cautiously, I feel a caught coming.

“In times of magic and modern science she may as well be,” he says slowly. “There is a spell stopping any healer, no matter how powerful. But we both know that you often play outside of these two limits.”

“Has her heart stop?” I ask, choosing not bother with denying my advance knowledge. I was aware of things that were not yet available to the public or the world of medicine.

“Not yet, but only because of Machine keeps it pumping.”

“Where’s the hospital,” I say sighing.

“Through that door,” he says pointing to a side exit, behind the spirits standing on the platform, waiting confused. I glare at him.

“Don’t you think you better start organising?” I say annoyed, walking through spirits felt so… discontenting. You feel all their emotions, sometimes their memories if you’re sensitive. Most just shiver and only pick up merely the strongest of emotions.

“Yes, I best,” He says plainly, not moving. I breathe in and make my way through the wall of the dead. I don’t bother to ask them to move, they won’t be aware of me so soon after dying. I run through them, but time moves slowly. I’m glad they only feel confusion, only small catches of fear. 

I hit the door to find it locked; I turn around to see D waving at me. The spirits were now slowly making their way onto the train. The door swings open behind me and I dive through it without looking. 

 Next week find out how my exams went. Results come Tuesday, 7th August.