I have just finished reading We Need to Talk About Kevin, by Lionel Shriver. A great book that I plan to read again one day, when I have time. It is a poignant story which leaves you feeling disconcerted up until the very last pages, about the upbringing of Kevin Khatchadourian, who kills seven of his fellow high-school students, a cafeteria worker, and his English teacher three days before his sixteenth birthday. A most intriguing boy, is portrayed as 'evil' from the moment he is born, and every story his mother has to tell of him only confirms this description. From beheading his toys as a toddler, to pouring cleaning chemicals in his sister's eye on his first baby-sitting job, he does his best to smugly earn the hatred of anyone who sets there sight on him.

Written from the persective of Eva, Kevin's mother, she manages to confuse my original oppinion of how nurture has more of a influence on behaviour than nature does. This book poses the questions, if Kevin had been brought up in a different home, would he still had done what he had done? Kevin makes it incredibly hard for his mother to love him, and consequently, she stops trying. But would Kevin accept love from anyone else? Or would he merely reject it, as he did to his mother?

One of the things I have enjoyed most about this book, is it took me longer to read than the average, and this is probably due to the way it is written. The language and structure is almost possessing and elegant, and I found myself reading parts over and over again, just thinking about the word choices and deep descriptions.

Everyone should read this book. It is an intelligent interpretation of what we need to talk about, but can't. I have probably given away too much allready... but go ahead, and read it!

How cool is this - a jelly bean Elvis...

Leaving school is like being on a sinking ship - in the last few minutes, everyone clings to each other for dear life, and declares forever love. It's exhausting.

Last day pictures:

Today has been a weird day. Firstly, a member of my family had a major opperation today, but the Lords planning and love as shined through so greatly that i begin to doubt the very purpose of this whole ordeal. So many more things have happened as a result of it, and this is amazing.

Not only has my mind been constantly reminded of this, but also of the fact that i only have two days left of school - this is terrifying in that it means that it's exam time, but also it is desperately sad; everyone is beggining to get unbearably soppy, thinking that as we have little time left, we all have to tell each other how much we love these people, and how we are going to try or best to keep in touch. If i leave without crying on thursday, it will be a miracle.

I think the thing i will struggle with the most when i leave is being so bored and lonely! I'm so used to having people around me all the time, even if you don't talk to them, that i think i will just feel absent; my schooling at Warden Park has been constant, no matter how much i didn't want it to be.

Anyway, on a lighter note, this is more fun with white grapes because you can use a black pen to draw faces on, but you get the picture... ;)



I call them Grape People. It's fun, you should try it at home... ;)

2 exams down, and about 10 to go! After doing my art exam last week, i have come to the decision that art has deffently been a huge chunk of my life the last six weeks, but i have enjoyed all of it. My art exam was even enjoyable, and despite the 10 hours silence bit, i found that i could do an incredilble amount of work in that time - in the first day i suprised myself. Having experienced two days in which i have worked my butt off solidly, i am still hoping that one day i will be able to do the same in a career in the future. It's only been two days, but i am allready starting to feel nostagic about the whole thing - no more art lessons for the rest of my schooling. I have also handed in my sketchpad, which is what i have had my head co-joined to for the past 6 weeks, so now i feel a little like i lost something. I am going to have to buy a new one very soon...

Newton Faulkner is also releasing his new single, 'I need something' tomorrow, and i am looking forward very much to getting it. I saw him supporting James Morrison in Brighton in march, and this guy is gonna make it really big. He has my every support!
He is also very funny, and very good at guitar. I like watching him play a lot, although most of the time he has about 4 guitars on the stage at once, all tuned differently. So it's quite hard to pick up on stuff he is actually doing. Anyway, you should listen -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpanipkxbwA

RULES:
1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!!!

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
Mahler:symphony No. 5, 4th movement, Adagietto.

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Team mate.

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Oasis

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Out of the sinking.

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Ripples.

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Love changes everything.

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Iv'e got to see you again.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
Ms. Jackson

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
The message

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BESTIE?
Who killed love.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Rags.

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Alibi.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da.

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
I told the truth.

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Goin up to Memphis.

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Make you feel My Love.

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Heartbreak Hotel (Live).

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Track 76- rock guitar for dummies.

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Ray Charles

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Lolipop

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Run.

Girls in Times Square, page 282.

"I know she's not looking as well as she used to. But I'm telling you, something happens to beautiful people. They think that something extra is owned to them by life, by God, by all people around them. They think their life has to be better, more dramatic, happier - in colour, not in black and white."
"Everyone wishes their life were happier."
Lily shook her head. "No. Not like beautiful people. They walk on the earth, their chin up to the rest of us, and think that great happiness, great love, great joy is their right and their prerogative. Passion as the entitlement of the rich." Lily paused. "Especially when it comes to love. Beauty and love become somehow synonymous. How can plain people have great love? They can't, that's how. They can have average love, mediocre love, but their hearts can't soar. Only beautiful hearts can soar."

I now have 19 school days left until study leave - the pressure is building everyday. My first exam is on the 1st of May, which is my german aural. I then have my art exam on the 3rd and 4th, and it's scary how much work i need to do between now and then. I break up on the 17th May, so the day my study leave starts is the day I have my citizenship exam. Study leave has been pretty much reduced to one week, not including half term. I guess this benifits students who work better at school, but I haven't worked out how it will benefit me yet. I am pretty sure I work best at my own desk, with my lap top, slippers, and a cup of tea, so I will continue to look forward to that time... However, I am wondering whether my uniform gets me in the frame of mind for work... but i'm not a kinesthetic learner - maybe that wouldn't work. Nah, I will stick to my slippers.

I have two weeks in which i have 11 exams, so thats gonna be tough. I am allready starting to give up other things to fit in more revision, which i don't like doing really but i think it is neccessary. It's weird to think that my whole schooling, 13 years, or somewhere close, is ending like this. With exams. This is what the last 13 years has been leading up to. I hope that my last day before study leave will be fun, and not too weighed down by the subconscious exam pressure that seems to be creeping into my fibers.

Here are some photos of some paintings that i took in Weymouth, last week. I wasn't really supposed to take photos in the gallery, so shhh! But i really like them - they are by a guy called Trevor Lawrence. The use of colour gives the paintings life - when you see them up close you can see how thick the paint is, some of them are almost bas relief. Some of the photos i took are a bit blury, and really don't do the paintings any justice, but here they are:





There are a couple more, but they are the wrong way round, so you will have to bare with me until i work this out... (I'm re-learning on a mac):

A recent discovery at tonights Fishfood: the founder of the Mormons, was called Joseph Smith, and Joseph Smith said that God gave one of his sons a planet. This planet was named Glob - turn it around, and you get BLOG!

Don't worry, we do have some sensible conversations at Fishfood. Usually about pregnancies, moths, cigars...

Yesterday, I experienced being both in a working class enviroment, and a very prestigious upper one. I spent the last few days holiday-ing with family in the Newforest; we stayed on a caravan sight, in a caravan that had been given the 'Rose caravan award' of 2007 - it had the sticker proudly placed in the front window. I have no idea what a caravan has to have to get the 'Rose caravan award' of 2007, but my guess is, not alot. However, despite the small spaces and the bad curtains, the caravan became our humble home for four days, and we lovingly set upon it it's own nick name - 'the Chav-a-van'. The teenagers counted wearing hot pants, gold chains, and, well, not much really, were numerous, and after the first day, i began to feel that i wasn't going to fit in. On the other hand, geting away from exam time tables, and maybe just this place in general, was a nice thing, and the weather was beautiful all week. It was fun, and i think the holiday was deffently more about who you are with, rather than where.

It took us approx. two hours to get home, and on the way, we stopped off at Goodwood to get something to eat. We had spent the previous monday there, participating in a track day, and we knew we could get food there whatever was happening. Our original plan was to maybe eat at the NAAFI van, (the Goodwood, general food van) but as it was not open Dad decided that we were going to go to Goodwood House to eat, as we had every right to, and there was no dress code. About a mile down the road, we parked in the car park - there were endless rows of VERY expensive cars, and we had an audi with a bike rack, and a top box. I was dressed in grey jogging leggings, and dungarees - when i entered the reception bit (which was actually a hall!) i could see hats, expensive walking sticks, fur coats and the like, all in order. It was fun, but it felt like i had to sit straight and talk proper. The place where we ate was called The Kennels and you could bring your dog in. Goodwood likes dogs, and so did our waiter. What was weird was that he brought Jaspa a tea towel, and a wooden bowl full of water - the kind of bowl you probably wouldn't give a kid for fear of ruining it - but the waiter gave it to Jaspa. Was a tad bizaar.

I dont mean to criticise both places, but i am glad of a normal, humble home, in which we dont have to say 'hip hop!' or wear gold hot pants. I guess whatever amount of money you have, if you have the Lord, he keeps you humble, which is a good thing.

Here are some photos from the first day of the easter holidays, that i should of uploaded a long time ago! This trip to Brighton was one of the best, probably because of the people. Thankyou to Alex, Elly, Ed, and Jenna, for a lovely day.

"There is no bogeyman. Just a bunch of flawed humans, some more flawed than others, but more or less cut from the same human mold."

- Love in the present tence, Catherine Ryan Hyde.

In all my short life I have never realised how completely politically uncorect Enid Blyton's books are. I read them as a child, probably all of them twice over, yet my little innocent self was not aware that Dame Spankalot was any other than a women the charcters of the story had befriended during another magically adventure at the top of The Faraway Tree. Why would I question PC Goons motives when i am satisfied with an outdoor land where the sun never goes down and there is an eternal pinic blanket layed with cheese, ham, boiled eggs, cake, sandwiches and lappings of ginger beer? Books entitled, The Three Golliwogs, and Happy Hours Story Book mean totally different things to me now, than when I was a gullible 7 year old willing to believe in Wishing-Chairs.

Out of many books i read as a child, the one i can remember reading over and over again and never getting bored of, was A Book Of Brownies by Enid Blyton - a story based on three naughty brownies (brownies are sort of a cross between pixies and elves) named Hop, Skip, and Jump who play naughty tricks on their fellow neigbours, which leads them to the sanction of being forgoten purposely when the King has a party and invites the whole village. Hop, Skip, and Jumps whole lives are then transformed as they disguise themselves as magicians so they can go to the party, and consequently, they end up disappearing the Kings daughter permently, and are forced to leave the village and never come back until they have returned her. It's a good book, i liked it, anyway. However, now looking back through it, the characters and chapter names are a little odd. For example, chapter five: Their adventure in the Land of Clever people. Chapter 9 is about The Saucepan Man - a half deaf man wearing lots of saucepans, who is accused more than once of being saucy. The book ends on page 185 with a poem:

GOODBYE!

And now the three brownies are happy once more,
And the princess is smiling and gay;
She often comes knocking at their cottage door
(Usually about quarter-past four),
And asks them to come out and play.

But first they have tea, and they eat jammy bread,
While they talk just as fast as they can
of the Vanishing Door and the Hob-Goblin red,
Of the Very Wise man with his very big head,
And, of course, of the old saucepan man.

And Hop laughs to think of the worm they once met,
Who was in such a terrible hurry;
And Skip says he really will never forget
The time when the Green Railway Train was upset
And put everyone in a flurry!

So they chatter and laugh while they finish their tea,
Then they think they will go out to play;
And off they all clatter, as merry can be,
To take the old Dragon-Bird out for a spree
away in the air, hip hurray!

They have a fine time in the sunny blue sky,
And then come to earth with a bump.
And after that Peronel calls out "Goodbye!
Goodbye, dear old Dragon-Bird; thanks for the fly,
And goodbye to you, Hop, Skip and Jump!"

Enough said!

This is the next installment of the story that is written by many people.

Verity: The day after his dream, Patrick set about applying for an astology course. He'd never been fussed about it before, apart from reading the predictions for his starsign, Gemini Cosgrove, in Robots Healthly Monthly. At the counter, he handed his application form to a bored looking female robot. She looked newly made, with smoothly soldered joins and solidified bubbles on her face, like zits on a human child. She had an organic hand, which was the norm for robots whose systems had partially failed. Even so, Patrick stared at it in facination. He handed over his metal chip to be scanned and debited for his course.
"Where'd you get your hand?" He asked, partly awestruck, partly disgusted.
"Down the med-centre", drawled the girl, picking at a metal zit, "You want one? Only fifteen hudred credits, plus money back and a free replacment if the first one is faulty",
"Thanks for the info. but i think i will pass." Patrick took his chip back and made his way over to a male robot with flared legs and a piston balanced on the top of his head. Patrick collected some brochers from the robot on planetary movement and star formations, and sally forthed to find some accomodation.

Today is my 16th birthday. It started by watching last nights 'Live at Abbey Road', which was good, becasue it had James Morrison, the man i am going to marry in future days to come. No idea who the other American Matthews guy was though. I opened presents from family and friends, and very nice they were too, and then headed off out to Essentials to have all my hair cut off and blonded. I am v. pleased with it - a number of people have commented on how much i look like my mums twin sister though! Not sure if thats good or bad! We then headed of to Victoria Station and went to see Billy Eliot, the musical, which i have to say, was pretty amazing, it almost beats The Lion King. Actually, it would beat the Lion King if it wasn't for the uncomfortable language used when your 9 year old brother is sitting next to you. The language in general, was not pleasant, it was worse than the film. But anyway, the acting was good, and it seemed to make a strong inpact on the stranger sitting next to me - he did cry in two parts. But, i cant really talk because my eyes filled up, and my brother looked like some one had just died, he was sobbing so hard. But surely that is the sign of a really good show?

We had chips at the station, and i managed to keep up with thw record of how fast i can spend my birthday money after i get it. Although, it could of been worse - i bought two books, that i will look forward to reading but will not read yet, cause i am in the middle of another one. We then had Chinese later this evening - crispy duck pancakes are my favourate!

Anyway, i must go, becasue i am the only one not asleep in the house, and my leg has gone dead from sitting on it!

This is a story, in which each paragraph is written by different people. It's quite dodgy in areas, but i will not apologise for it, because i only wrote a paragraph.

Beth (me): Once upon a time, there lived a man named Englebert, whos unfortunate name cost him his first girlfriend, and in the future, his first wife. The metallic bonding of his head was soon to be melted by the robot squad - they had a tendency to be slightly evil. Being a robot had unfortunate disadvantages. Englebert was never considered a real man, and therefore, never got to perform his duties in the Food Discussion group. Eating was his life long ambition, however, he often suffered from bad bouts of constipation combined with insomnia - both of these together took there toll on Englebert, and he resorted to living in the carribean. He wanted to meet more girls in more bikinis.

Mark: After eight children and endless amounts of lovers, and still lonely, Englebert decided to strive for a more fulfilling lifestyle. He moved from the Carribean, dropped his raster tendencies and sold his home grown (finest) dope. He thought that to suceed he must become a citizen that respected law and order. He changed his name to Patrick and set up a business in Bracknell. All was not as it first appeared however, certain underground 'set-ups' soon led poor Patrick astray in endulgences such as prostitution, and illegal kite-flying left him bankrupt with his business in tatters. His house (which he built illegally in a park) soon got knocked down and having to resort to eating from bins, Patrick decided again to change some things about his miserable life which he was now, quite unfortunately, leading.

Elly: After a year of all this hoopla, one of his many children (called Engleburt 2nd) turned up on his non-existant door step and asked if he had a cup of sugar. The newly named Patrick refused to give his son any sugar on acount of the fact that he didn't have any. He offered to rummage through one of Bracknell's finest litter bins in the most prestigeous park in the whole of the estate but his son said that it really was ok, and started on a journey of 150 miles back to his home country of Wallop Gallop.

Steph: The journey took seven days a nights as he trekked with a limp in both hand a foot. The dusty, bleak road made him hunger for a bushel of apples and thirst for anything but camomile tea, for that was a flavour he promised his body he would never swallow again. Sometimes, in the dead of night, he would hear the fleeting coo of his long lost love, Dorris, begging him to return to her. He could still see her loving face, her smile lit up by the deep orange of her cigarrete: still smell her perfect aroma of smoke and Eau D'avion. Alas, he knew it was mere exhaustion and dehydration. He simply wished his sleep would grant him sweet surrender from reality. And so he slept.

Lucy: Meanwhile, in a bed now far far away, Patrick was a-sleeping next to a dead-to-the-world (sleepy) prostitute. And so it came to him a dream - far stranger than before - a dream to change his ways. And this was no drug-induced hallucination! The creature of Ohm came to him in the form of a tortoise, thirsty for the belief of the masses. And he said unto Patrick:
"Alo thar. Ah can see that you've not gawt much ta dew - so i thawt ah'd teach you aboot stars. Stay away from the black holes or you'll be spaghettifeyed. And studeh the stars - they'll tell ya awl ya need for yer life ahood."
And then in an instant, her was gone.

To be continued...

Okay, lets look at some rather grainy videos, from the vastness of Youtube:




Russians by Sting has allways been a favourate song of mine, but i was recently looking into it a bit more, after having just finnished the study of the Cold War (which, by the way, i have enjoyed A LOT) . I have also just started my GCSE art exam, and the theme of it it 'Time' - i researched the doomsday clock a little, and found it at the beggining and the end of this video. Its amazing how close to nuclear war we actually were - the Doomsday clock was set to something stupid like 3 minutes to midnight. It's quite scary when you think about it really, people thought that this would destroy the earth!

Anyway, it's an alright video. I have to say that the floating heads are slightly sereal.

HERE ARE THE RULES:

1. Grab the book closest to you.

2. Open to page 123; go down to the fourth sentence.

3. Post the text of the following three sentences.

4. Name the author and book title.

'"Don't know?"
"No, I don't know. I never see any difference in boys. I only know two sorts of boys. Mealy boys, and beef-faced boys."
"And which is Oliver?"
"Mealy. I know a friend who has a beef-faced boy; a fine boy, they call him; with a round head, and red cheeks, and glaring eyes; a horrid boy; with a body and limbs that appear to be swelling out of the seams of his blue clothes; with the voice of a pilot, and the appetite of a wolf. I know him! The wretch!"'

Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist.

THE POLICE ARE BACK!

WOW! I am so excited. Not only do we have tickets to see Genesis in Manchester in the summer, but now the Police are touring this year aswel! Hehe! WOW, I would LOVE to see them, that would be amazing. Two of my fave bands I thought would never be seen on tour again, are back! I bet the tickets will go extremely quick, so if anyone wants to buy me a rather generous birthday present, Police tickets wouldn't go a miss.