New Journal Space

Where: At my desk for a change!

Listening to: The Dumbing Down Of Love – Frou Frou & Imogen Heap

Tabs open: SD chatroom, Facebook, Myspace

Programs open: Msn, Chrome, WMP

I’m hoping everyone really loves the new layout as much as I do. NAL (Andrew McCluskey) sorted it out for me. I think it’s fantastic and that he’s done an absolutely awesome job. He and Sean Buller are the two who will be sorting out my new site for me. I really am extremely psyched up about it. So far they have design ideas and a list of things I’m after, but, even with the things they add of their own accord, I think it’s going to turn out fabulously.


I’ve also sorted out my official myspace which I’d left for quite a while to its own devices. It’s not as snazzy as this is yet, but it will be. The temporary background and images will do for the time being.

I haven’t written on my journal in quite a while, to be honest. I’ve been ill on and off. It’s stupid. I caught ‘flu off my mum. Then I was feeling better and then I caught a cold. I’ve still got it at the minute. It’s mostly in my throat now, though. As soon as I get rid of the cough then I should be good to go. I have so much to do and so much to catch up on. The problem is that I’ve just felt dreadful.

And then there have been the family dramatics.

My brother’s girlfriend broke up with him. He’s heart broken. And stupidly he took some kind of blade to his arm and showed me after our parents had gone to bed. This, of course, meant I had to clean him up and sort him out. I know how he feels but I think that was a step too far. If I’m honest, though, I reckon it was probably more to show her (they’re both emos & she’s supposedly cut herself so I think he thought it would prove something to her) that he loved her. Obviously it didn’t work and the wimp that he actually is soon found out that it was also a stupid and painful exercise.

Then my mum has failed both of her assignments for her part-time uni course that she was doing to get a higher pay grade. It seems to have really upset her. And on top of that I had to tell her about my silly younger brother. I figured it was better that she knew in case something happened with his arm.

And my dad is being deliberately obtuse about things. I like that word. Obtuse. I watched The Shawshank Redemption recently so maybe that’s why.

One more thing, though, today was exactly a year since I kissed my ex properly, alone in this very room. Trying not to dwell is a very difficult art. I know it was today mostly because it was three days before my birthday last year… and it’s now three days before my birthday. Twenty on Sunday. I don’t want to be twenty.

Anyway, I hope I haven’t depressed you. I’m such a cheery soul. ;P

Ethereal Entity #23

Where: On the sofa

Listening to: Hide and Seek – Imogen Heap

Tabs open: Facebook, Twitter

Programs open: Msn, Chrome, WMP, MSWord

Your trouble is that you don’t listen. Your world is practically, hence why you don’t understand me a single iota. I am not practical. I am not happy with this misery of an existence. I am not you. I am me and I will never be you. My practical side does not appear unless helping others. I am idealistic. I am unreal. I am not of this world. I am of my world. And my world does not interact with yours. My world is suspended in disbelief. My world is an escapist’s haven. That’s why I live there, wrapped in its fragile folds. And every time you shatter that fragile wall, you break me a little more inside. You don’t realise this and no one ever does. Your words are like a battering ram to the soft drums of my ears. I don’t expect you to ever understand this. And you won’t read this because, for you, it would mean entering my world and that is something you are clearly uncomfortable with. My bubble is far too frightening and floaty for you, despite the warm reception you would get.

It takes a while for you to be accepted, though. You’ll be watched for every step until the inhabitants are sure of you… and if you frighten or hurt them, you will just get a barrage back until you are back outside their walls. And these walls will be quickly, but badly plastered, and they will continue to guard them because that is what they do. Whilst the injured lick their wounds, the angry will hang around to stave you off. The more you try and force the inhabitants out, the more they will resist. And this is me, but you don’t seem to understand that…

Few people seem to understand that…

But you’d think that you would. You’re supposed to be closer to me than other people, but you feel like an acquaintance.

I hate being me… It’s so lonely. Nobody is allowed in because the people I let in hurt me. And every time I let them in, they get closer and closer to the heart of the city. I can’t afford to let them in any more. I don’t even let my best friends in that deep. This can’t be happening… I like this song. It fits the current mood.

Nobody is allowed beyond the city walls again. Nobody. Ever. They are closed for eternity. No more heartache.

Ethereal Entity #19

Where: Downstairs on sofa

Listening to: TV – The ONE Show about discalculia

Tabs open: Facebook, SD chatroom, Twitter, BBC – ONE Show, Dyscalculia Symptoms

Programs open: Msn, Chrome

Okay so I’ve moved upstairs since I was going to start this. It’s quieter up here… and I wanted to play around with my new camera. Mum doesn’t know I have a new camera yet… She may or may not be told. I may hide it from her for a while. She’ll yell at me. I am fully aware that I shouldn’t throw money away… but it is so tempting… and my other camera broke and is not fixable. At two years old, it’s not been a bad camera. In fact, it’s been a bloody good camera, which is why I bought another Samsung. Admittedly I thought I’d broken it about a minute after I played with it and it blacked out, refused to come back on and had the lens stuck out… Turns out that it obviously hadn’t charged enough whilst I was out. I actually nearly had a heart attack. I mean it. It cost me enough money and to think it had broken I was inwardly distraught… like a cowboy not shedding a tear for fear of being weak. Okay. So I’m over exaggerating. Did you really expect any less? On a more serious note, it’s actually a really awesome camera. It’s the Samsung ST550 one in red and black with the two lcd screens and touch screen capabilities. I already love it. I’ll have to name it. I named my laptop so it would only be fair. It can be called Jeremy… probably mainly because I’ve been reading Kelley Armstrong’s ‘Stolen‘ lately and there’s a character called Jeremy in it. Plus, it kind of looks like a Jeremy.

On another note, I was awake until 6am this morning completing a ridiculous essay. Well, to be honest, the essay isn’t actually ridiculous but the fact that our module lecturer didn’t seem to know what she was doing and the essay titles didn’t really correspond to what we’d been taught made it ridiculous. The essay question I decided on was the one about an author and the influence of the time in which they grew up on their writing and how their work impacted on children’s literature. I chose Beatrix Potter. The title I devised was ‘A detailed consideration of Beatrix Potter’s works and their ensuing legacy within children’ s literature.’ I don’t think it was very good but right now I don’t care. It was the best I could do without very much guidance. Not that I’m blaming the lecturer on my own because everyone else taking that module was under the impression that she wasn’t very good either, which is kind of sad because I felt sorry for her. Nobody in the room really respected her opinion and quite frankly she gave us little reason to. Shame because she seemed quite nice as a person.

And Andrew McCluskey (NAL Games) will be happy that I’ve written this entry. I’ve left it two days and apparently he needs his fix. I don’t see why. My life is hardly that interesting. I just like to have a place to moan. Moaning is always fun. That might be because I’m unequivocally English, though. And everybody knows the English like to have a good long moan. Is it immature that I amuse myself with that double entendre? You’re probably nodding your head and saying, “Yes Rebecca. It’s very immature.” I’m hoping you’re also saying, “But we still love your crazy little self.” And, just a note, I’m not little. I’m 5’5… That makes me pretty average… Yeah, having three brothers hasn’t made me self-conscious about my height at all. Still, I’m taller than my mum so it’s alright.

I think I’m going to take my special eyes out and go feed my cats, actually. By special eyes, I don’t mean I have fake eyeballs I put in to convince the world I can see when really a shark tore them out when I was three and on my daddy’s boat. My dad doesn’t even have a boat… and I don’t think I’ve ever called him ‘daddy’. My special eyes are my contact lenses and after a long day, they’re beginning to annoy me. They’re not as difficult as I thought they were going to be. They actually feel like you have an eyelash in your eye for a few minutes when you first put them in, but then they settle down and you forget that they’re there… which can be a bad thing. You don’t want to fall asleep in them, for instance. My brother did last night. He was telling me that they restrict oxygen to your eye and you could go blind. He was panicking at the time as he usually does. He’s quite a fierce hypochondriac. I believe that that could happen but I’d guess that was if you left them in longer than he did. Oh well.

Anyway, Smokey (that’s the cushion/teddy-obsessed cat) wants his dinner. So I’ll tie this off and write again soon. Goodnight world!

Ethereal Entity #15

It would probably be better to start this journal off with a kind of format. So here goes (I’ll probably forget to do this next blog time):

Where: Sitting on my rubbish spinning chair in my tip of a room (but at least the chair is red) at my desk

Listening to: Luke Pickett – Going Down With This Ship

Tabs open: Facebook, Twitter, Authonomy, The SD Chatroom

Programs open: WMP, Msn, Chrome, MSWord

So now you know pretty much everything that I’m doing… or at least, that I’m supposed to be doing. To be honest, I need to stop slacking on things and spending so much time in the chatroom (links on the board index right at the bottom by the way) but my sleeping pattern is what we like to call fooked, so I wake up, feel crappy, crawl online and cheer myself up by talking to random people that I know on the internet. Most of them are quite cool. Some of them are just… odd. Like RedChu AKA RC (Greyson Wright) with his constant TMI. I mean, really, how much information has a boy got to give when he’s going to the bathroom? Other than that he’s kind of cool. He does, however, remind me of my cat. I have five cats so I suppose that might not narrow it down.

To be more specific, Greyson reminds me of Smokey. Smokey… well… When we got Smokey it was because my mum rescued him. He’s a bit brain damaged, but lately he’s been annoying me quite a lot. I don’t know if it’s because he’s matured and yet his brain isn’t quite right or what. He’s been neutered so I’m at a loss. What he’s been doing, though is basically raping anything furry and still. He does that thing where he presses his paws up and down and starts purring. Now his purring is extremely loud. You can hear it from the next room, but then he starts getting… how shall we say.. ‘excited’, and that’s when I get worried. I understand that he’s a cat and he has his needs but really? He has to attack furry cushions? I caught him with my purple teddy bear. He’d picked it up in his mouth like a dog (this is one of his other things. He’s under the impression he’s a dog. Personally I don’t get it but apparently he thinks ‘dog’ suits him better than ‘cat’. In all honesty, he’s more of a shadow because he’s grey and he likes to follow me from room to room) and then taken it into the bathroom where he started his bizarre ritual. I don’t know what to do about it except hide all the furry things I have – which isn’t fair because I have a faux fur throw to keep me warm on my bed. I suppose at least he isn’t doing it to me or something. If I wake up in the middle of the night with a cat on me doing stuff I think I’ll be traumatised for life… not that I’m not already traumatised enough.

I given Andrew McCluskey (NAL Games) the job of making sure that I write in here. Hopefully he won’t forget. I told him to put it on a post-it note. That way there’s two of us. He’s my second in command on the chatroom, too. I’m not sure how I could describe Andrew to you. Closest is maybe a mixture between the Snowman and Little John (on the Robin Hood Disney version of course). One day, I’ll think up a better description. He’ll probably read this and his response will be somewhere between ‘WTF?’ and secretly being quite pleased.

Anyway, I started editing Dark Side of the Moon… I started writing it when I was 15 and even though I know that some of it needs redoing I can’t help but feel terrible when I have to delete bits of it to make way for new bits. Part of me wishes I could print it out and move certain pieces around or cut them out then stick them together again whilst adding new bits in. I think that would be kind of messy, though. I should really get back to doing that. I’m going to get a glass of water, first, though, I think. There were a lot of commas in that sentence.

I’ve become rather attached to commas over the years. I like putting them in because they help to navigate the flow of a sentence. You can help to decide how fast it is jut by adding or deleting some commas. What I don’t like is when people just put them in randomly or before ‘and’ when there really is no need for them to be there before that ‘and’. I think another reason why commas attract me is perhaps that I write poetry when I’m in the mood for it. I’ve always written poetry quite well. With poetry you can make things twist and turn for no apparent reason. That’s what is so good about poetry; it’s writing for the love of writing something and not because you have some purpose or particular story to tell. I tend to write poetry more when I’m feeling overcome by emotion. It’s an excellent medium to convey your emotions through. The only other medium that could compare is perhaps a painting, but then you’re not necessarily conveying your emotion; you’re conveying the emotion of the scene and that is most certainly up for interpretation. I had to do an essay for my A Level Art course. I can’t remember exactly how many words it was but I enjoyed it because I’d never had the opportunity to contrast and compare visual work before. It was actually a really good experience because, even though I wasn’t too sure on how to write it, it allowed me to see how much was open to interpretation and I think it aided my ability to write, too. When I say that, I don’t mean my ability to write essays. I mean that it helped me to write the description of a scene in a story. It helped me to see much more how I could bring to an environment through pathetic fallacy.

Anyway, I really need that glass of water. =P