Life is Short but also Insufferable Long.

 So something that should be devastating happened at the start of the month. It doesn't feel that way which makes me feel odd. 

It just made me feel odd about watching nothing but things that involve death. I don't watch or consume anything that involves plain happiness and it's too soon to start watching Hallmark films, even those are secretly dark with all the dead mothers they just have for the sake of it. 

So I watched Casper (1995), may as well hit on the head and I'm back to watching Murder, She Wrote. Maybe I'll start the Christmas films early, especially as I can't finish my project currently. 

It wasn't unexpected. It came at a shitty time because covid and other bad shit that's going on. 

Anyway, there's separate Transport police in the UK that are not connected to Police Scotland and they mostly deal with suicides going off the leafet they gave us. 

My biggest emotion right now is angry at people using modern technology to insensitively inform people of things they have no business commenting on. People have been informed now so I guess I can go back to using Social Media as a coping mechanism. 

A Sentence.

Well, I managed to forget my sibling's Birthday. It's tomorrow and I have not got a clue what to get her.

Christmas Time

Remember how I said we would be evaluating my goals for this year, this week: Well, that was a lie.
I'm instead going to write about Christmas because, Hey Christmas.

Christmas has came and went this year with barely flecker of thought of the actual day. It's been more fuck, I need buy gifts and I have no money. I didn't really buy anyone's gifts in time. I brought my mum a small thing but not much else.  Only my closest sister and little brother got their proper gifts.

The funny story of this year is my mum somehow managed to give my own gift to wrap amongst my sister. It was this notebook and soon as I saw it I knew it wasn't for my sister. Having her got me this I knew she had got me other stuff in the same line as it. Such as a 2015 Diary that she already told me about because I had been discussing buying one with her. Though, it is a weekly one instead of the daily one I buy every year to note down my thoughts of the day but that has never work in the three years I've tried so maybe I'll just start using a notebook as diary but write in it everyday instead.

My other siblings except the ones we never see are coming tomorrow which was one the main reason I didn't feel like going over my goals today. I've also decided to sort my bookcase and really should be sleeping but screw that.

See ya next week where I'll probably do what I promise to do. Till then I've put video up this on my Youtube channel, its weird time to come back.

Radioactive side-kick (Oh my Gosh, Fall Out Boy).

I really regret using the title of "Rocking in the Disabled Zone" for last week's post as it or a variable would have been more suited for this week's post. I realised my mistakes while in the car on the way to the concert. There was nothing I could do as it was almost noon and I did not have a reception to even to attempt to change it by phone.

The concert was alright. I mean who even likes Fall Out Dude which I imagine is Fall Out Boy cover band but I hear Fall Out Guy (that is what it looks like I wrote on the calendar) is way better. Now let's never take the time to see if any of those bands exist.

 The concert was actually Awesome because Fall Out Boy are Awesome. Though, they'd be more awesome if they found a way to mute Pete Wentz and chain him to his Bass. I should have shouted Blue eyeliner suits no one. I really miss a shot there.

So lets go my back to start of notable things about last Saturday.

 I killed a man named Bob. My sib wanted to go TGIFriday (even though it actually Saturday), which somehow turned into a family dinner with 5 out 7 siblings with spouses (if they have them) being there. It totally ended in a food fight where we all swore never talk to each other ever again and we all lived happily ever after.

Of course that's not what happen. I had a disappointing burger and chocolate milkshake. Also two weird slushies that didn't come with cherries this time. The starters were nice though. We started with two tables because there was nine of us and there only let you book eight people table. They eventually did let us all dine at one table, not that it made much difference in terms of conversation. I talk to no one except to order.

 We in confusing affair went to the concert with my brother who also happened to be going as well. It made sense as it costs £7. This is the brother that I think of as Arsehole, that hasn't really change. I didn't say anything.

So this was my first time in the Hydro, not in the very ableist packing which I've complain about before but it wasn't as bad as last time since it wasn't as cold. Another complain is that I think it incredibly stupid for it to only have one cash machine. I also got told that I wasn't allowed to bring in bottled water which fucking retarded, apparently it because you could hurt someone with it. I frankly want proof. It probably a money lie but that makes no sense as since they sell alcohol they have to provide free water of some kind.

The Disable platform thing was a very good few for seating, which was a worry. We literally sat right on the front on padded waiting room chairs that they shove there. We were in platform 52.

I brought way too much merch: Three t-shirts; one hoodie; a overprice wristband; a tote bag and a mug that appears I never even touch and I blame my mother. The reason I have three t-shirts is that there never had the right size for the one I wanted so i got another one but then I saw another stand and they did have the right size. So I brought it. Books and merch are my two money weakness. Other things I can resist but not them.  My Chemical Romance stuff also came in the mail this week, their greatest hits and t-shirts.

As for the story of the mug, you obviously couldn't bring them in with you as you know no glass allow into these things as people are arseholes and accidents. After the concert, my mum rushed out of the place through a different door so with the buzz from Fall Out Boy I never remember to go pick it up and now will blame my mother for it forever. I've emailed them about it but hopes are not high that I'll ever get it. You can't get the mug online either. I should have wrote mug on my hand.

As for the music, what we heard of New Politics they were quite good. Having sort of listen to their two albums I think they a band with potential. I will keeping my ear out for them. Get it? You know ear instead of eye because they're a band and they play music. I'm just so witty. We heard Harlem which is currently they're biggest song, on ad for Frozen and everything.

The Petty Reckless were pretty disappointing. Frankly, they were crap live. The sib and I discussed this thought perhaps it was because instrument overpowered the leadsinger's (Taylor something) voice. During their sound test, the drums were randomly hit and were so loud they sattle everyone there. Maybe if we had been standing it would have been better. Taylor was also doing this weird stripor dancing. I wanted to remind her that she was there to sing, not to get pound notes off us. It was just really boring and I actually went to the toilet during the last song of 'Make me wanna die' which is a fav of mine. They didn't pump the crowd at all.

Fall Out Boy were awesome, brilliant. They played songs from all they albums (expect their actual first one). They play two of my favourites from their second which made me so happy. I actually just love it. I could just sit and gush about them all day. Especially that Patrick Stump. I stand by my Facebook statous that I would marry his voice and talent. I don't know him as a person but I love his voice and music. I haven't came across a song that he was involved in the creative process of that I haven't liked. He's as good live.

I did have several fangirl moments, but how could I not? I did sing along to all the songs. It would be petty bad if I didn't as I've listen to those songs thousands of times. They did this thing were they suddenly appeared behind the standing and we were so close to them, which was great because people in the disabled platform don't really have the option to be the mental fans that get to the very front. It was also funny to see the standing just rush to them when they realise they were there.

I did film bits, but apparently I wasn't allowed to film which I think is kinda stupid because I never had a professional camera and some phone camera are actually better than mine. It the world we're living in. I promise that I will actually edit something together and I will start editing the things I promise to edit.

I've probably said everything that you want to hear about Fall Out Boy. If not you could always comment and we could discuss more of their awesomeness.

On the course saga, I have quit the course thing. She never called me on Thursday, so I didn't go in on Tuesday.  That all I will say on the matter this week but I will have to call to see about things.

I'm off now to do things like not sort my room and annoy my mother by randomly bringing up the subject of mugs.

Book Review: The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

I wish I had a twin, though mainly cause I want to confuse people.
 
Angelfield House stands abandoned and forgotten. It was once the imposing home of the March family--fascinating, manipulative Isabelle, Charlie her brutal and dangerous brother, and the wild, untamed twins, Emmeline and Adeline. But Angelfield House conceals a chilling secret whose impact still resonates...

Now Margaret Lea is investigating Angelfield's past--and the mystery of the March family starts to unravel. What has Angelfield been hiding? What is its connection with the enigmatic author Vida Winter? And what is it in Margaret's own troubled past that causes her to fall so powerfully under Angelfilds spell?

This was a everyone was raving about a few years ago (and the BBC recently made adaption of it that wasn't that great). It wasn't quite what I was expecting. I thought it was meant to be a scary book but it not really. There is a haunting of sorts and creepy twins.

There is a few sort of themes going on in the books. It deals with child abandonment of the emotional and physical kind. There is whole thing with twins with two sets in the book. There are different sort of sibling relationships none of them healthy which is really the certain of the novel. The main characters are all sort of tragic and comparisons to each other going on. Some of their actions are rather questionable so you not sure if you like them or not.

It written with a slow pace and it not really a book you're rush through. For some reason I get sort of lost when reading Setterfield. I read her new book (and reviewed it) and found myself doing the same thing with it. What I mean by lost is that I'll miss chunks of writing and have to reread the page. That could be my Dyslexic nature showing but I haven't done it with another writer in along time.

There's a lot of book love going on. Margaret grew up and works in old book shop and Vida Winter is a writer with a library. So you enjoy books that feature books then this could be for you.

Overall, I gave it 5 out of stars for scars. Whilst it wasn't what I was expecting, I still enjoyed it. There a small creep factor. It well written books and there are some lovely (perhaps not the right word) scenes going on.

2013 Summed Up (and the start of 2014)

Happy New Year, we 4 days into this year and I bet it gonna suck and be awesome because that's life bitches. We brought the 2014 with food and blue liquids. Okay, I was only one drinking blue WKD, everyone was champion and that. My sib actually sat and drank a full bottle of Captain Jack Strawberry & Cream by herself almost. You're meant to drink it as shorts. It tastes like strawberry milk with alcohol in it. My sib thought it tasted like favoured medicine. So we both agree its a taste of childhood with booze in it. So perfect to drink a year away.

I also exchanged gifts with my sister one Hogmanay as it was the first time we had seen in each other in the Christmas sort of time. I gave her and her husband scales and board with words on it for their kitchen. I suggest he use it to weigh his head to see how small his brain is. She got me jewellery, M&Ms and £25 gift card for Waterstones which will be fun to spend on Monday.

So far I've spent most this actual year sleeping, eating junk and reading the first book of the year.

Because this is the first post of the year it probably best that I reflect over the goals I set myself  last year which were:

1. To read a book a week (one or two misses will be forgotten).
2. To up 2012 book total so read 100 books
3. I want to finish writing The Stranger a.k.a my June Camp NaNoWriMo novel a.k.a the novel I've been working on since I was 15.
4. To continue with this weekly blog.
5. I think maybe focusing more on Creative Writing.
6. On the other subject of writing, I want to start keeping a diary every day.
7. To read more classics/great works of Literature for reasons. 
8. To pass my driving tests. Need to do my theory and practical. 

1.  This was a fail, I kinda stopped reading for a while. No particular reason. Just did. I just stop doing anything for a few months. That life for you.
2. I managed to read 103 books this year. Ew, I know odd number but I did try to read another book before the end of the year. It just didn't happen. So I read little more than my target. I also read a lot of comic books and if i had included them then I would have well past my goal.
3. I wrote a tiny bit of Stranger this year. Just trying to make the middle fit with the end is hard. Like I have the solution worked out and have for years but having the characters figure out is hard when they so focused on their parent issues. This is why Orphans are much easier to work with. I know I could just throw the parents out the window like so many YA writers before me but that just wouldn't work for the story. Moving on.
4. Well, I am writing this post ain't I?
5. Er...no. Not a lot of creative writing happen. Maybe more than 2012 though, I supose not since I wrote out most Stranger during 2012.
6. The diary kinda fell apart during the time I did nothing for months.
7. This started out great but then once again fell apart during the months of nothing. Damn those months of nothing.
8. LOL. I actually stop being on the insurance and gave up my lessons in a fit of frustration some point in the beginning of the year. I had been basically thinking of getting a new instructor for months before that. I was just not learning anything and there was no improvement at all. I'm going back on the insurance and hoping to get some sort of funding because I'm Carer and sometimes my parents are too ill to drive.

Overall, 2013 year was petty dull year. There were no new developments. Some drama was added to other things. I didn't apply to Uni due to Panic/laziness. I earned petty pointless qualifications. Music was alright. TV was alright. It was just alright year which is petty disappointing considering how cool a number 2013 is. I left my Teenhood behind which was kinda sad.Twenty just feels so old and I could go into Quarter life crisis any day now.

I'm going to do this year's goal next week as this a lot text already, for now I'm off to attempt to tidy my bedroom.

The Exit (Short Story) a.k.a. The Accomplishments of this week

So my week without parents is coming to a close. How time flies when there isn't any family members to bug. My parents are coming back late tomorrow now, bring with them my older sister and little brother. The older sister will leave, I will probably leave before my little brother does.

So this week has been productive in terms of video making as I have managed to make a video every day so far this month (Here a playlist of my VEDJ videos). I haven't been that successfully in terms of writing and tidying my room. My room is still quite a state, I have almost finished organising my clothes which is the hardest part of organising my room. For some reason dealing with my clothes really takes a lot out of me mentally and physically. The fact I almost cried about the prospect of putting them away after I had taken them all out is probably indication that I have too many clothes or that it was 3 am and I was pushing myself to get it done. I'll have to finish up tomorrow before my parents get back as my bed is still covered in stuff and I've been sleeping in their bed as my dog is suk who likes soft beds and carpets.

Seriously, I woke up yesterday with him lying on my side of the bed and trying to lick my face. I everywhere I turn he's there as I'm the only one in the house he likes. For some reason he doesn't like my sib, I always wonder why that it is. Though, if I sleep with my door open I might find idiot on top of me more often.

I meant to be doing Camp NaNoWriMo which has been some what of a fail as I've only wrote a thousand and something words. To be honest I haven't been forcus on it much, I just really want to get my room sorted and then I will go back to writing. I'll just have a day where I sit and forus myself to write until I get the words out of me.

So till then I leave you the short story I did managed to write. I rather like it.

The Exit

I find her in the woods. I go to her as woman: older than her mere teen years, but not mother figure. A sister if anything because she’ll need someone who won’t coddle her but will hold her hand. Someone she’ll trust and not see as a threat.

She stands looking down at what remains of her violated body. They are others young who suffered worst, but I’m still saddened. I’m always saddened by unnatural deaths. To have life taken from you is a terrible thing. Though, I’ve never had it to know.

She feels my presence and turns towards me. I’m glad that came to her from the side,  so we won’t have to walk through the remains. I offer out my hand, she goes to takes it but stops and looks back down.

“Why did he do it?” she asks sounding even more like the child she is. Once upon time, a girl her age would have died in childbirth to her seconded children. I have come for many a child with their own baby.

There so rarely ever talk and I’m never sure what to say to them when they do.

“That’s not my job to tell you,” I say because it all I can say. I don’t pretend to know why humans hurt each other, even after all these millenniums, the only other answer I could give her was that he’s sick and that’s not what she wants to hear right now. It’s only my job to show them to the exit.

She stands in silence for a few of their minutes.  I step towards her and take her arm gently.

“It’s time to leave this place,” I whisper to her. I don’t want to leave her, I hate leaving them to find their own way there.

“I don’t want to go,” she weeps. Even though her body and its water have gone, she forms her tears. The crier always do, it’s something their souls learned to do in life.  I stoke the tears from her face, maybe I was wrong not to come as a mother.

“You can’t and don’t want to stay here,” I say to her. When I leave them they always wander confused, unhappy.         

“What about my mum? I’m all she has,” she whimpers.

“You’re be lost to her if you stay,” I say it, but I’m not sure it true. She could already be lost.  I don’t know anything about what’s behind the exit, just that I have to bring them to it and I will never past it myself.

She pulls away from me; she walks to the other side of her body.

“Do you’re think they’re find me?” she asks me.  I look around at all the livers crowded around us. They clearly already have. The dead and livers never notice each other. I do my best to ignore the livers as there are of no importance to me.

“I’m certain they will,” I say as a policeman pushes his way through the crowd.  The search group actually found her before I arrived. They need time to adjust before the exit.

“Good,” she briefly smiles, before it’s vanishes quickly. She offers out her hand. I smile at the gesture before taking it.  I let her leads out the woods before guild her to the exit. It’s important she leaves somewhere other than the place she was forces out.

The exit is everywhere and anyway. I take her to the park where she played as small child and had her first kiss as an older child.

“Will you come with me?” She asks as she feels the exit open.

I want to say yes, I always want to say yes. To the toddlers who have never across anyway without someone; to those who are too scared to go themselves; to those who don’t ask. She still too wary to go anyway herself. She learnt that lesson.

“I can’t,” I say simply. “I watch till you go through.

“Thanks,” she says. I smile at strangeness of being thanked for my simple job. There always a  few who do. She leans in and kisses me on the lips. She brushes them slowly, I decide to kiss back. I’ve been kissed before. On the check by children, on the hand by gentlemen; being kissed this way is very rare and I’m not sure when it will happen again.

She pulls away smiling at me, I smile back.

“I wanted my last kiss, I mean before I went to be nice,” she playing with the long hair I had decide on. “It was lovely.”

We stand for another of their minutes before she speaks again.

“I have to go now, don’t I?”

I just nod and she walks through the exit as I watch her.

I leave to the next soul, happy knowing my decision to come as young woman was right.

Beauty for yourself or expertion of others (a.k.a ballgrown and jeans are basically the same)

My older sister is frankly terribly shallow and likes to ruin a occasions of going out by criticizes mine and my sib's fashion sense.  In my opinion, she no one to talk considering she has no fashion of her own. She just follows whatevers meant to be "fashionable" and get rids of her clothes (some ain't even hers but you never getting that back) and then ends up buying the same thing brand new two years later. She loves all that terrible reality shows featuring orange people. She follows their example.

I've said all this rather insulting thing to rove the point that opinion is different. Her rather upsetting (only cause I'm depressed and prone to tears when I'm depressed) comments about my lack of effect inspired me to write post about whether beauty is really for yourself or what socity expects of.

My sister said something along the lines of "You should dress up for yourself" and how make it feel better. Frankly, I've been doing that for years. Dressing for oneself should mean that you one who decided whether glam up or not. Though, I dress for myself I get no sense pleasure from it. I feel the same wears pajamas as I do from wear fancy dress. Me and my sister (lets just call her sis from now on) differ on what is appropriate time to glam up.

I for one think its stupid to "glam up" for a rock/pop concert (unless you're one on stage and still) because those things are hot. No one is going to see you and what if you want to start a mosh pit. You really can't mosh in heels, it just not done. Though, I see a concert as the main event, she sees them as just something to do.

The thing that really bugs me is that she the opposite of dressing for yourself. She always goes by what she thinks is acceptable by society. When she insult me for not caring about my hair, frankly my night was going to be sitting in a dark threatre. Frankly, I don't understand how you wouldn't be bored spreading hours getting ready to go out. I don't see the fascination with going out to a club, paying to get in, over cost drinks and then theres the terrible music. I'm happy to be odd in these things.

Also looking "good" making you feel good never really work for me. Dressing up and making myself petty never actually makes me feel anything. It more something that you should do at certain times like formal events. My typical answer to "What are you planning to wear?" is a dress (or jeans if just whatever) and I wwill refuse to go on fuller. I find it rather annoying when someone tries to make this question into a discussion. We both going to the same event, I've already brought the dress, so you're going to see it, it will make no difference to what are you going to wear. My mother once show my other sister what I was wearing to this family party and it really bugged me for some reason. It probably had to do with the amount of time was being paid to this dress.

Yes, I dye my hair brightly colours, but that's more to with me getting bored with what I see in the mirror. The length of my hair is comfort and plaything. I do take alot pictures of myself, but that more to do with the fact they're no one else to play model when I have a idea. Also with make-up I tend to do it properly when I'm bored like I might draw or write nonsense when I'm bored.

 I have notions of wanting to look like a girl somedays, but mostly wear whatever find or some random statement about myself. When I buy T-shirts, they're usually either petty due to arty things; skulls,hearts and wings; have some witty phrase on it or merch of band/book/movie I loved.  In away they tell you something about as a person. Here have example of my sort of humour.

Actually, t-shirts with phrase on them brings us back to sis. My sister when left to her own devices will buy me things that are completely not me. They more the sort of thing she likes such as the two shirts she brought at different, I believe both were birthdays, gift giving times. One saying "You better earn more than I can spread on shoes". Shoes, frankly is something I've never paid that much attention expect wanting a decent pair of combat boots and converse style sand shoes. I must have been when I was like 12-14 age, maybe younger. Still I was definitely full fledged person, I was basically when I was four, I think the sort of the person I was clear when I was 2.

We'll always be different. My sister I guess just doesn't see it that way. Like I wouldn't demand that we all sit down and deeply discuss Harry Potter (or other fandom things). If that was the done thing among majority of my peer age then I would be pressured intositting through a discussion I might find dull as glass.

My point is making yourself "beautiful" is opinion. Though, acceptable dress will always be what society considers it to be and not what you individually think it should be. Still fuck them. I will never pay that much attention to my controlled beauty in daily basis, only notice spots when comes to appearing on camra and still then I tend to get on with it. I'm not saying I don't do things in the sake of beauty, it just not anyway near the top of the list of things I care about.

P.S. Sorry this tad bit like a personal rant and if appears to jumpy, that because I literally was jumping from back and forth different paragraphs as I wrote it. 

Donating Blood and Guts

Hi, so I gave Blood two weeks (which I would have wrote about then if The Daily Mail & my brother hadn't annoyed me, but enough about them). It was actually a bit of a failure. It was all going well, my haemoglobin (iron in your blood) was fine, I've had issues in the past. However, half way through actually giving blood, the flow just stopped and refused to start again. I was rather annoyed with my vein idea of rebel. They have other uses for it , but they couldn't use as a transfer (I like to think they give the failures to the vampires because its doesn't matter to them) is obviously a shame especially since I'm O negative a.k.a The God of the Blood Types. Well, when giving blood in questions since they can give it to any one without fear of rejection (that might be the wrong word, stills fits though). So basically, its very important that I give blood and anyone who has that blood group.

Funny fact, half my family have that blood group but there can't give blood due to medical reasons.

I think my left arm doesn't like giving blood, because the last two times its missed behaved, so I'm just going to use my right time and jug down water before I go next time in April.

There is currently this horrible campaign (horrible because they're using the Hollyoaks cast) to get new young donors in. They want a 1000 which is kinda terrible considering Britain has a estimated population of 60.9 million. Obviously, not everyone will be able to give blood and some will already give blood. But in Scotland only 5% of the population ( 5,254,800 according to google) give blood. Thats petty terrible.

It probably only takes 45 minutes at the max to give blood (and this is with waiting to been seen) and only once every three months (or six cause some people's haemoglobin doesn't recover in that quick).

Frankly, they guilt me something awful since I started giving blood. They gave me a gold card, after I had only donated four times that was weird. I kinda feel silly with it. Also a Christmas card with a joke about my blood time.

I'm also registered Organ Donor because frankly hypercritical not to be. I have a sibling who received a kidney transplant. Also I believe if I died suddenly  and they're able to make use of my organs after I have no use for them. Then go a head. (By the way, that is not permission for any one to dig me up and steal my body/organs).

I guess with my ill sibling, I've always been conscious of the whole donating things. I started donating blood as soon as I was seventeen. 45 minutes of my time could mean someone's life. SO DONATE DAMN IT!!! Because someday a blood transfer might save your life and then you'd never be able to return the favour.

So two rants in a row in a way, neither greatly constructed but there've got to better than my random "I have literally nothing to talk about posts. So basically I'm actually going to my much older sister's  (Well, she is 30 today LOL Happy Birthday loser) Birthday party tonight meaning this was pre-written (its Monday). I think I am going to try and write my Saturday posts before Saturday so they actually up on Saturday (what the hell, heres another SATURDAY).

So See you next week, I'm probably on my way up North or getting ready to go by now.

An Open Letter to my Brother

Sorry to do the people who read my blog and were looking forward to me discussing my Blood Donation experience. Frankly, this is a long time coming. This isn't something wrote in a rash moment, in fact I have wrote/filmed several things in an effect to get this off my chest.

This the same brother who appeared in a post last January which actually cause a disagreement which is main reason why my next post had "avoiding the bitchy" in it and only tiny about school as I didn't want to give the Stalker satisfaction of thinking I cared about her. Basically, his wife found my blog by stalking my twitter. I call stalking because she didn't follow me, but had checked it out more than once, though apparently its normal to google ones sister-in-laws regularly.

This brought on due to recently rumbling. My mother sent him quiet the polite message to try to clear the air a bit before a family gathering, even though the rest of us had decided that we weren't going to talk to him and that he and his wife were are going to sit in a corner by themselves for most of the night. Anyway, my brother called my mother up shouting and then this nonsense started up again. I've told myself several time just to let it go (its hard when it comes up every six months), frankly I really feel like I don't have a older brother. Its more like he's dead or something. Yeah, I had a brother when I was four but he just disappeared.

If were to ask my brother he would probably say I'm too young to be counted for words and action because he never talked me about them. He always went straight to our mother. This has angered me in the past because I'm my own person and my mother couldn't really stop me from posting on the internet my emotions and thoughts, not caring who sees it. To be honest this might say its a letter to my brother, its more at/about my brother since I shan't be sending this to him. Mainly since it wouldn't do anything. Sure I could say:

Brother, 
You have deeply hurt me and I no longer feel to trust you. I can no longer make nicely with you as I don't feel it worth the effect for me to speak as you don't know the privilege that is my voice. I don't speak much to people as this is a struggle for me which I kinda hoped you would have realise with being my brother for all my life. However, if you didn't know this after eighteen years, then I don't think there much hope.

I could tell you how hurt I am by your lack of understanding, but that wouldn't help, would it since I know this is been brought to attention several times. 

I was hurt by your lying and hurtful nature of you not standing up for me or any one else in the family. Just because you've got married, doesn't mean you abandoned your family, but that what you did. You seem to have no loyalty. I've told you several times why I am upset with you, however you don't listen. You ignore the issues and act like it nothing. To bluntly honest, you have to be stupid you seriously think you've done nothing wrong at all. I admit to my mistakes, though everything I've said was honest. When I post things online, I don't care if anyone sees it or their reaction, because I never post something I wouldn't say to the person face if I think they would actually knowledge it. This is why I never said it to you because you never actually responded to anything said to you. You just jump to defence. 

For the record, yes I don't like your choice in a wife. Mainly because she very self centred, a liar and goes around telling her version of the truth when she has no bloody right. While numb to the events of 2011, I can't justify to let go completely because I never said anything about her. I just repetitively called you arsehole which you've never proved me wrong. I couldn't go through with being part of the wedding since I liked neither of you and that would have just been a big lie. I only went as far as I did for mum. When quit the first time that would have been that, I wouldn't have went to the wedding. The night before I said I didn't want to go. I could done without the wedding which was frankly terrible. It incredibly rude to leave your guests standing for hours. I was especially surprise that I didn't tell your new wife to fuck herself when she told me to go back to the dinning room. I was so angry during the speeches, since from my point of view they were all lies. I was angry through the whole thing, since I probably shouldn't have been there, you couldn't actually afford to get married, in the same way you can't afford to go on holiday to America. 

I hate your attitude to money.You shouldn't favour people because they can afford to give you thousands as a gift and not a loan. Mum and dad have done a lot for and as the youngest sibling I petty much see everything. I am kinda a shamed of you and would avoid you on the street. Though, the avoiding part is due to not having anything civil to say to you in passing. Mum and dad have been though a lot an like your stranger when comes to the struggles that they've faced.

I would never say this to your face because you wouldn't listen, I wouldn't want to be misquoted and mainly I don't know you well enough to feel comfortable speaking to you anymore. Please don't respond unless you're going to be civilly and actually address the points to me. Contact mum and I'll know to write you off.

That big pile of text is petty pointless and I don't know if I do feel better after writing it. It won't really solve anything from it being in existence, but I've sent to it out to the universe. I

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.

The Ugliness of the Olympics

With several million other people (which was a challenge to fit them all in my livingroom) I watched the Olympic Opening Ceremony last night. It was a "Once in life time experience" till I watch it online or the best of the Olympics which I'm sure the BBC will be working on as I type.

I'm taking this post as one of my last chance to bitch about the incoptannce of the Creative team of the London Olympics. For anyone whose been near me when they have reveal an element of their effects such as the Logo, you will have heard this all before in one way or another.

Lets start with said Logo. I bet they thought they were being creative when they made this, they weren't. I am also half aware of the whole Nion thing, but I'm going to ignore that since frankly that stupid considering that it is just the year 2012 they've based the logo and you have to do a lot to get it to look like that. Also it does not look like the Nazi symbol. Though it does sort of look like Lisa Simpson giving someone a blow... doing a rude sexual act.
Back to my main point, the Logo is just ugly, especially the moving version. They spent £400,000 on it when a group of school kids could have done a better job. You know what I think that would have actually done a better job of inspiring this country's youth than this ever could. Also people wouldn't have been so judgement if it had been the result of contest. I was 15 when this was released and all it inspired me to was moan about the stupidisy of the Olympic organisers. Even though I hate it, this isn't as bad as the Olympics get. 

No, that honour goes to these Nightmare givers, the Masgots. I guess these could inspire the UK youth to get into running, so they could get away from them faster. In all seriousness did they get the people who design the Doctor Who monsters. Also I've got that to say Wenlock and Mandeville (that's their names by the way) backstory is as disturbing. Their single eyes are not eyes at all, but cameras and they're recording EVERYTHING. 

OMG, they live *Horror Scream*

Yes, I am just waiting for the Doctor to show up and deflect these monsters. Oh, Now I get why they do with Britain and London.

I will say this is where the horrorfling part of the Olympics (creative wise anyway) ends. 


As for the opening Ceremony is was petty boring at the beginning and didn't even realise it had started (had been watching the countdown programme while attempting to play Chess for the first time).  After the Victorian bit, it got quite good. I love the fact we gloat about the NHS, since it is something to be proud for.


This is where my lazyness set in, I will leave saying it was very British. My sib and I were feeling very patriotic by the end of it, and end up discussing our thoughts on Scotland's Independence with tears in our eyes, feeling like idoits. We blame the alcohol (okay, I only had one unit) and don't worry we're both back to our bitching ways.

Summer Came early

Haló this fine morning, (okay it evening when I finally finished this). Scotland has been sunny and warm. Its too damn hot and I've got sunburn on random points on my body from yesterday which has been reinforced by today's actions. Went to the beach today, it was actually warm enough to swim.

My Epic Beach scene with my dog Shep

My exam are over, they went okay besides coming out my maths Higher paper crying and losing a mark in Bio for not being able to spell Hypothalamus. Though Maths Paper 1 objective was okay and I had a stoke of luck in Biology. Basically, I was going did Section A of 2001 paper the morning before my exam and it so happen that the SQA have been doing some recycling as question 3 appeared in my exam as question 2. It nice to know that it got promoted, though it did take 11 years to get 1 question up. I did get right the first time, anyway. No more talk of exams till August.

The tent I put all myself and slept in 25th May

So summer has basically started for me and as I've said above the weather has match that sentiment so far. I actually slept outside yesterday because of the heat. Though, I was still woke up today at 8am. I had woke at 7am the day before after finally getting asleep at 2.30 am. I suppose it was good for T in the Park which me and most of my sisters are going to this year. My older big sister has been few times, but it will be my other sister and my first time.Very exciting, I've actually got a busy summer this year. Going to England in three weeks time and doing Camp NaNoWriMo this June and August.

Sitting atop a waterfall (okay, a very small one)

 Probably got all my sun for the year, as I'm not that interested  in sun bathing and did my exploring of my farm and played in my "pool". So lots and lots of writing this summer, with tons of books being read. I've actually started my main book attempt of reading the Complete stories of Sherlock Holmes by ACD. I've already finished reading Study in Scarlet and don't worry I won't feel the need to re-enact "The Finial Problem"


P.S. Hope you've enjoyed Eurovision so far and enjoy what little remains.

Point Horror Hunting (It was that guy who hit on me)

Now some of you might be thinking what the hell is a 19 year old doing blogging about Point Horrors, they literally pre-date said 19 year old (the first Point Horror was released in 1986 and last 2005, according to wiki) with their hay day being the 90s while she was still drooling (Hey, I was 7 when the 90s ended) and confirmed couldn't read at all then(I sort of could when I was 4, then forgot). Also shouldn't you're be studying so you get your childhood dream job of studying dead bodies?

Yes to all the above, so the story of my beloved Point Horror books begins with the lovely fact that I come from a family of book thieves apparently (which in my younger days I did partake). I own (well acquired from the family book case with the intent of not returning) several Point Horror books that once resided in a school library. It is possible that they were bought from a library book sale, but I find that unlikely as all the suspects, I mean my siblings were still in high school during the 90s and I know for a fact (petty certain my memory is right) this is the decade these books appeared in my home.

I can clearly remember "Funhouse" by Diane Hoh being present in my bedroom/playroom (it so big, should have doubled as two rooms). It was never read to me; I was left to my own devices when it came my thirst for fake blood and mayhem. I was such a sweet, innocent child who had to settled for Freddy Krueger.

Now having read "Funhouse" I realised I like the spooky cover better. Oh, well it probably for best that it no ways resembles my short story I wrote based on the cover before I read it, "Deathhouse" in which a funhouse that puts the fun back in Funeral. I put it up after my exams most likely (or never).

Anyway, these little gems of 90s teen horror have found they're way into my heart, but once I had read all the ones I had found at home and my school library; I some what forgot about them. Sure, I did look for books similar to them. However, I got caught up in my failing education and my thirst was never fulfilled.

Till one day (last Tuesday), I went to visit the bank. As most banks do, they sold books (well, my one does) where I spotted six Midnight Library books. Wait a second those ain't Point Horror books. Shh, I'm getting there. Midnight Library is a series of books containing three horror short stories which is one of the books that almost quench my ever growing thirst for terror (at a teen level). Anyhow, I brought these books at the small price of 3 quid and put £30 in my account.

When I got home, I started thinking about the other 6 books in the series. So I decided to hunt them down and buy them off the interweb. The Amason's book fruit was not ripe, so I ended up on ebay where I manage to catch my book prey. One of the sellers was meant to have a deal on the if bought three books, but they had no other Midnight Library books so I thought maybe they have some Point Horrors. And they did, exactly two. It was fate, or more likely coincidence.

So basically I went on a book buying frenzy and ended up with 24 books at the small sum of £40.93. I've decided to join Book Addict Anonymous (BAA) to battle my problem. Frankly, I don't need any more books. I currently, roughly own 221 books and 124 of them are waiting to be read. I'm really need to keep to my promise not to buy any more unless I come across Point Horrors  in a charity shop or something.

This is likely a broken promise, but the first step is admitting you have a problem. Proof that I'm not a total lost: this week will be the first and hopefully next week the last that I miss my goal of reading a book a week due my exams. 

Also thinking since I have all these Point Horrors now, I start doing reviews on them. I might even start Point Horror Wednesday. It depends on my busy, busy schedule this summer. You're know how it is when you have no job or major commitments to meet. Seriously, I am meant to be writing a novel this summer and other such things. So we're see.

Last Parents' Evening. Also Braces go Bye Bye

On this previous Tuesday, at 4 past seven, I arrived at what will definitely be my last parents' evening, well until I become a parent or teacher (lol). Last year's was in November and at that point I had no real idea I would be repeating, that should have been my last. Don't remember much, just telling my English teacher at the time that I didn't like Shakespeare which she may not have directly said it, but she was appalled by this. Briefly went on how about how great he was, how so many experts love him and such nonsense. I still think he's an English Git who wrote the first Emo romance and is a history ignoring Bastard. I don't think my opinion of him is ever going to change. 
This year one was much more positive really and I'm in a much better place to pass. My mother and I arrived late for our first appointment. It was meant to be with my maths teacher, then English and Biology last. It of course didn't work out that way. Of all my parents' evenings, never once have we followed the appointment order. Frankly, no one really expects to. Making appointments just confirms that your parents will turn up at some point during the event, usually well after your appointment was meant to be.
 We first talk to my maths teacher at 7.10 slot instead of the intend 7.00. My maths teacher basically confirmed what I already knew. She said that I hold a better understanding of the course, though she also once said that you're don't to know why it works, just do (roughly along those lines). I told her I thought I had the potential for a B (leaving my A notion to myself) and she agreed with this estimation. She also said how my homework didn't always reflect my capable and I let myself down with this. My mother and I had brief discussion how my little brother had been playing up that week and that was my excuse for the last HW not being completely finished. I also shared with her my current revision plan of coping my notes; I personally I think this will help with the Objective Testing part of the exam. I mainly got from it that I have to ask for help. So the same as last year.
Shockingly, we actually saw my Biology teacher at the scheduled time of 7.20pm. As usual, it was the best out of them all. She said about how I got a B in my Prelim and how I could easily get an A. She said I had clearly been revising this year, I just smiled. Yes, I have revised more this year, but in honesty, Biology is kinda left at the side lines mostly.

Leaving the worst for last: English

It’s the most frustrating, it mocks me. I want to be a writer and I read all the time, but it’s my worst subject. It’s also the only subject I really need to pursue Illustration, haven't decided yet. I need a B, all my other subjects I'm getting that. So after waiting for about twenty minutes to see my English teacher, she  somehow turned my incredible failure of a prelim into a C grade and leaves me feeling rather positive. She basically said how my Prelim didn't reflect my ability as I did much better in class/HW. She said maybe it was scribe (I'm Dyslexic and I get extra time and scribe in all my necessary exams); I told her it wasn't and that I wouldn't feel conformable doing it myself on the actual exam with my tenancy to miss out words and writing nonsense when stressed. I told her I had only been reading for roughly seven years, my mother and her preceded to go about it taking me longer isn't that surprising. She said I would probably have to retake English to get that B. Also how good my folio was and that she enjoyed my short story. When I said I did read a lot, she said she knew, she could tell by vocabulary.

To end the blog, just want to say that I'll be getting my braces off this Monday. Goodbye being a walking Grater and I'll be able to run my tongue over my teeth again. I only have my weak eyes to go with my geek chic.

Family- Old Older Siblings

Had a double dose of Older old siblings. I have 5 older siblings in total with 4 that I refer as Old older sibling. Basically, this group are all 9 - 16 years older than me, while my Youngest Older sibling is only 2 years older (well, 21 months exactly) and we both still live at home. Today, it was the middle older sibs that came for a visit.

My oldest sister actually came yesterday and stay the night, while my Youngest Old brother (he older than all my sisters) has just came for today. They both completely have different views on family. Sis is very family ordinated while my brother frankly couldn't give a shit. He lies to us and visits in a three month bases avangly.

My mum would probably freak if she  saw I wrote this, but honestly it the truth. I don't care about my brother any more. He's hurt me too much for me to even attempt a relationship with him anymore. He criticized me for being myself. He basically said I was a Freak and a Fake. I'm not going to change for any one and I can't forgiven him when he won't even admit that he was in the wrong.

It not just the things he did to me, but the rest of my family, especially my mother. He been such an ungrateful bastard to her. Once, she went in hospital for major surgery and he didn't bother to visit her. However, if his wife family are even sightly ill a big fuss is made and its always nothing. Our mum is disabled and has to take painkillers every day. He doesn't even care.

I could really go on forever about what jackarse he is, but whats the point.

I said I would only give him his christmas gift, as this is the first time we've see him since November, if he got me something decent. It was only £2 Doctor Who magnet, it was still a gift I had brought him. He got me a purple hoodie with "I heart Vampires" on it. I know he never actually picked, she did. I gave him the double wrap, coated in tape on purpose gift and her nothing. Well, I haven't seen or heard from her in months after all.

I actually slept through most my sister's visit. Long week at school caught up with me, I know I see her before my next Birthday.