Listening to Arcade Fire and that song line (tell your father he's wearing blinders) inspired me to come back to this blog. I'm not sure why I've been away so long.
I have a long list of stuff to write about, so I'll try and get it all down no matter what happens.
Going chronologically would be too efficient for me (the intro to Moby's Hotel album just came on shuffle. Awesome.), so this will probably be in the order that things come to mind.
Tonight, I deleted all the "friends" on Facebook who I either don't know or don't care about. Brilliant. Looks like James Harrison deleted me as a friend first though, screw him then. Finally, I won't have to hear from all those gays from Trinity (literal gays, I mean), constantly updating their bloody statuses and bitching at each other. Get a grip.
Workin' on leavin' the livin' by Modest Mouse just came on. Awesome. In heaven, everything is fine.
So, about two weeks ago, myself and Chris (ex-boyfriend kind of) went to France with my little brother to take him back to my parents. Chris enjoyed himself. So did I, for the most part. This sounds gay, but I got some new clothes and that was probably the highlight. Pull and Bear makes me so happy. Amazingly, they don't pay me to advertise them. For the most part of going to France (we drove there and back, by the way. Don't ask why.), I was a grumpy little bastard. I don't know why. Chris just seemed to be really annoying me. I go through cycles of "hey, he's an alright guy really!" to "whatafuckingcuntwhythefuckdoievenbother" every two weeks. Truthfully, after a year of on-and-off dependence on and support from Chris, I don't know what I'd do without him. This reality I am going to have to (and want to) face when I finally get around to moving back to France.
Cuttooth by Radiohead just came on. Don't think I've even heard this one. Woah. It has lyrics that they recycled for Myxomatosis in there. I don't know why I feel so tongue-tied. I don't know why I feel so skinned alive.
Moving back to France. Montpellier, actually. This is because Jean-Marie (parent's neighbour's daughter) lives there, says I can stay with her, and that there's work over there. I haven't managed to talk to Jean-Marie yet, and she updated her status earlier telling Facebook that she's on the dole. So there's really work over there? right. People keep asking me, if I hated France so much, why do I want to move back there? I lived in a village in the mountains. Montpellier is a city bigger than Carlisle by the coast. Massive nightlife. I want to go and work in a bar there.
Talking of working in a bar, I've just got a job in The Sportsman. It's brilliant. Well, if every day is going to be as good as my first day was. They've given me nine hours so far, and that's already three times as much as Franco's gave me on a Saturday. So yeah, I had to quit Franco's, which was tense. Instead of quitting, though, I offered to still work there. What? No. Why did I say that? I now need to go and pick up a P45 or P46 or something in order to not be taxed over the top at the Sportsman or... something.
Outsiders by Franz Ferdinand. Will you still be Camille Lee, Gellar or whatever, yeah?
I'm not doing bar work at the Sportsman yet, though. That's this Saturday. Should be fun. For now I'm preparing food. Exciting stuff. Just put the Pixies album Doolittle on. Awesome.
Got me a movie, I want you to know!
I am fed up. Part of the deleting Facebook friends thing was because of Becca Farrell. What a two faced bloody whore. We were friends. Very loose friends, mind you. She was always I love you etc etc but it didn't mean anything. She's very superficial. Fake and that. And I'm a better actor than her. Sounds bitchy, but I'm annoyed at her. Basically, as part of her performing arts exam, I had to act with her. Neither of us learnt our lines, and we didn't rehearse. It went terribly. I tried to prompt Becca numerous times while we died completely on camera, but she wasn't capable of rescuing herself from stage fright or whatever. Can you guess her version of this story? She came out of the exam crying, got hugs off everyone, gave me a quick glare, let everyone think I'd messed things up for her, and went back into the exam. Rather than let people think she'd done anything wrong, she let them think it was my fault. It wasn't, by the way. Then, at the prom, she came and sat in my lap and was all "I don't blame you, it was my fault etc." Two days later, I text and ask her if she'd like to go for coffee. No reply. Chris Poskett bumps into her boyfriend in town and Joe tells Chris that, and I quote, "after how Becca looked after Jack when he came back to England, it's not right that he'd refuse to rehearse for her drama exam." Basically, this is the bullshit she's been telling everyone. It's not fair, because people will believe her. Not that I care too much what people think about me. (That's what I try to get people to think about me, that I don't care.) Without wanting to sound too emo or anything, everyone bloody cares how other people feel about them. When someone's spreading believeable lies about you, you can't really do much and it sucks.
One person heard my side of the story first. Eleanor. I was talking to her in Concrete. I've known her since childhood. She said she hadn't heard from Becca, and I told her that I hadn't either. She was shocked, after all, Becca was up until two months ago all ilu towards me. We agreed because Becca has her "perfect" (not in my opinion, clearly) boyfriend, and is off to her uni (DD entry grades, thank you) to do (dead-end) performing arts, she's just cut off anyone she doesn't want. Chris has been going on at me since he met Becca about how fake she is, about how she picks and chooses friends. I knew it was true then, but even more now. If I'm being harsh, and anyone dislikes me slightly more in any way, I don't care. She's made me feel bad about myself, and it's completely injust. The whole affair annoys me.
An underwater guy who controls the sea
Got killed by ten million pounds of sludge from New York and New Jersey.
I've been watching Stargate. I'm up to just past halfway on SG1, and level with that on Atlantis. Aspects of it are terrible. Especially Beau Bridges. Fucking terrible actor.
This monkey's gone to heaven.
Yesterday, after barely getting out of bed, (at about 1PM) I got a call from Andrew Elliot asking if I had a suit. I've come to expect this from Andrew. Half an hour later, I was standing outside Carlisle glass in my suit, wearing a huge, uncomfortable dragon's mask. Got a bottle of red wine out of it which I gave to Chris. Should have demanded payment. Anyway, this Dragon's Den parody is supporting some sort of online campaign encouraging people to grow their own vegetables. Andrew said it was bullshit. Probably is. My parents have seen both Echo and the French horror one. They didn't like the latter, but Echo made my mam cry. Cool. Andrew's doing an MA (which is a master's degree, supposedly), so hopefully there will be more acting work for me out there. Should I ask to be paid, or what? It's experience, yeah, and I'm probably not good enough to do paid work so shut up Jack you bloody diva.
Which reminds me. The amount of fucking stuff I did to try and impress James Harrison. I stopped wearing my digital watch. I obsessed over whiter teeth and trainers (both of which never happened). I lied through my teeth about liking bloody RnB music. I put up with Starbucks, camp Ali, him telling me how he liked some black guy off the internet. Me, bitter? no..
I made a friend, though. James introduced me to Iain. Even though he fancies me when we're drunk, he's genuinely a good person. I need to meet up with him again sometime soon.
This is the thing. The only person that I meet up with now (apart from Chris, we see each other every hour that Chris isn't at work. It's usually a relief when he is.) (oh, and Mathers and Karen. That's band stuff, though.) is John. My first boyfriend. We're good friends now, but he goes to uni in about a week. So does Karen. The band will probably break up then. Remind me to write about the band. Because I have, for the last six months, spent about 70% of being awake with Chris, my friendships with other people have withered away. If he reads this, (or when he reads this), he will say to me "Well if you don't want to hang around with me, why don't you stop!" he doesn't realise how suffocating he is, or how dependant I am on him. It's bloody terrible and I can't stand it and I probably love him. It's like Stockholm Syndrome (probably not as severe). On the occasion that I have tried to cease my relationship with Chris, (we're not officially boyfriend and boyfriend, and haven't been since before Christmas or something.) he has texted me non-stop for days, tried to call me etc. It's a never-ending cycle, but because I have noone else, and because, hey, he's an alright guy really, I'm doing it to myself.
Pretty much, I'm also jealous of people going to university. When they leave, although I will have lost only Karen and John, it will be empty here. I won't be happy. Tom's getting extra help from Sue Jones so he can pass his English Language resits so he can get into Leeds, a course which neither of us quite got the necessary grades for. Where I got BCC, and definitely shouldn't have got into Leeds, Tom got ABC, and deserves to go. I don't. I haven't seen Tom very much since we finished school, which is odd, because we live about a hundred meters apart. I haven't seen much of anyone, really. fuck it all.
