The clouds are moving

They remind me of the clouds in Toy Story on Andy’s wallpaper.

Oh dear, what an atrocious hair day. Seriously. This is just WRONG!

I walked into the tech block this morning, and the room in the back where I sit and write these and record the Friday Hazelizabeth News smelled like a car showroom this morning. Only mildly, because my own burned hair scent filled my nostrils sooner than I could have spurted my guts out at the smell of seat belts. Oh yes, I once again have an horrendous cough. I coughed up luminous green this morning. I KNOW YOU ALL WANTED TO KNOW IT! But yeah, colloquialisms aside, I should not be in school. I feel ok in myself, like I don’t feel dizzy or squittery, but I know I’m ill. Another reason for me to, you know, skip school today is that MY HAIR SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN ALLOWED. EVER. Proof that it needs taming with scissors and a razor soon? THE DAY HAS COME, WHEN I CANNOT PYHISICALLY DO ANYTHING TO BETTER IT. THIS DAY, IS TODAY. No day but today! Except, it might have to be in the Holidays…

OH POOPY POOP AND POOP STICKS! I have English mocks next week, as well as finalities to do on the essays I did over the weekend. This is going to cripple me as a blog writer. Don’t expect much!

(I wrote that on MONDAY. It is now SATURDAY)

So, I had a haircut last night. It was tamed and the fringe simultaneously RUINED. I loved my fringe, like a loyal but slightly retarded friend. It was sometimes willing to be clipped out of the way, it did as it was told some days, and it was always there, it never mysteriously disappeared. Until Vanessa savaged it with a razor. I now don’t have a parting at all, it’s all just short bits that merge into a fluffy line of fringe. It’s growing on me, but I have this massive urge to just want to pull at it until it grows out, coaxing it out of the follicles. I also really want to dye it, all of my hair. Vanessa is right, it’s kind of a dull colour now. It’s naturally kind of light at the front, but I want it to go sort of, gold. Really GOLD. And shiny, with like the shiny bits kind of coppery. Ah, well, I just really want my hair to look interesting, for it to stand out in a way. Not like “HOLY CACK, HER HAIR IS SHORT AND LIKE LUMIOUS PINK AND SHE HAS LOTS OF PIERCINGS AND DREADS AND A SHORT FRINGE AND A SHORT SKIRT AND RIPPED TIGHTS AND BOOTS” kind of “stand out statement”, but something that just sets me apart in the *right* way. I can’t really define the *right* way, but it’s not a rebellious look.

I have this BIG urge to want to ride my bike too, but it’s chilly and windy outside, I think I might go tomorrow in the afternoon sun just before or after Choir, I’m yet to decide!

I want to watch Stardust tonight, because we failed to record The Full Monty on Wednesday, and I really want to just cosy up with a film tonight, seeing as I planned to last night, but ended up baking (rock-hard according to Mum, I will not forgive her for the face she pulled when she judged them so harshly) coffee and cream muffins instead.

I’m also really rather excited for the new Episodes (not “eps” Matt Smith, you utter twaddle talker) of Doctor Who! MAJOR W00T! (That would be my name if I was in the army...fo’sure.)

I love Radio Two on Saturdays, Dermot O’Leary has some great guests: Mumford & Sons, Russell Howard (he played Violent Femmes, and before that, BEN FOLDS :D)

Tatty bye,

Haze

That's IT

I've decided.
If my Friday sucks because I made it so, I'm going to sit inside, warm, cosy, a social recluse, and watch Edward Scissor-Hands.
SORTED!

I just don't understand this culture of going out, dressing up, getting "wrecked". Why do they want to damage themselves? Can't they respect that their bodies aren't designed to retain so much alcohol? That's why they pass out, or vom up, or you know, get POISONED. Don't get me wrong, it's not the drinking culture that winds me up, it's the incessant need and desire to "Go OUT", get drunk ON A STREET, in a club, on a bench, in a park, not in the safety of someone's home. Regulated house parties? DANDY, GET ME THERE. But pubs, clubs? Bars, cars? NO. JUST. NO.

I much prefer a film. Some chocolate and/or (what am I doing, it's hardly EVER or) ice cream, food, water, milk, tea, thoughts, contemplations about life. Fridays are the days when I reflect back on my week, think about what I've achieved, catch up on the internet, listen to and then play some music, and stay up ridiculously late because my friends do so, and late online chatterings are actually priceless. And it means I can talk to my friends who are strewn across the seas in different time zones. And I don't have to care about BEDTIME, because it's Saturday, and I can do what the FREAK I like, unless I have plans.

So, all in all, I like to be dull, but you know, not so dull that I'm average. Heaven forbid.
I had three separate people today who came up to me and told me that I should audition to be part of the new cast for Skins.
I'd love it. I would totally be the one to FLIP THE HELL OUT and tell everyone to GET A GRIP AND JUST DO SOME WORK AND NOT SO MANY FREAKIN' DRUGS, KAYYY?
Oh well!

I'm living in a state of "maybe it was all for the best, I'm still happy".
It's really odd, but liberating.

OUR ENGLISH PRESENTATION KICKED ASS!


<3

Tatty bye,
Haze

Trodden Down (PART ONE)

(Written on request, by James)
(Note, this is not typical of this blog)

Finally, it was Saturday. I really had the jitterbug. In two weeks time, I would be seventeen. I’d have this sense of freedom and the passion of learn how to drive was slowly and surely making me both nervous and excited. I’d even have my own car. Mum had picked it out, insured it and everything. Things were piecing together, so neatly, so securely. Everything was just right. Saturday meant boot day. It also meant finally seeing Joel.
Don’t start assuming things, I mean, I *wish*, but he was nothing more than just a teenage boy behind the counter. In that shoe shop. And I mean he was ALWAYS there. Not that I kept checking… but just everytime I walked past, gawping at that pair of paint spattered Tuks he just glanced around, and caught me through the mesh of the window. The most glorious flush of crimson invaded my face and I scurried off. Subtlety is definitely not my style.
“Cee, are you ready? I’m just going to put the keys in the door!” Mum hollered up the stairs.
“Yeah sure Mum” I sort of hollowly answered. The truth was that I’d been ready for hours, I was just so nervous. I had no boots to quake in, so some battered Converse had to take their place. I supposed that I had to put on something that was alright to change out of to try the boots on with, if you catch my drift. The only thing missing was my hat, scarlet and floppy, it fixed itself behind my ears and over my forehead, and nestled just at the nape of my neck. I was ready. Just not very prepared.
Mum locked up and we stepped off the porch and onto the road. A rather large drip of rain plopped off the roof of the porch and went right down the back of my neck. I turned around in disgust to face the house, but just wiped it off. I couldn’t stop smiling for one, and an insignificant raindrop was not going to dampen my mood. The car jittered into life, and Mum started asking mundane questions about school. I automatically started answering, but there was no real thought behind what I was saying. I was watching the raindrops as they ran down the windscreen, cheering them on silently, watching them race. The rain was heavy now, and the feeling of being inside a tin box, warm and dry, was increasingly nauseating. I just wanted to be outside in it. I wanted to splash in the great big puddles, fill my shoes with water and make my socks so wet that they felt like great big balloons of water to wade in. But I was rattling around in a car, bound for the city centre, in the middle of October. The oddest thing was that I felt more trapped inside the chassis of the car than my imagined state in the puddles. I just really wanted to get out, smiling and dancing, and forget about all of these overhanging burdens.
“Celia, are you listening to me? Have you got a pound for the meter?”
“Oh, yeah. Here” I prised the pound coins from my pocket and handed it to Mum. My hands were extremely cold, I could feel it spreading up my wrists from the tips of my electric blue fingernails. The car had somehow stationed itself in the car park just below the shopping complex, and I rather dramatically decided to drag myself out of the car. Now that we were inside, I wanted nothing more than to just sit there and wait for the car to dry off. Even though I could feel that under my hat my hair was dry, I flicked it and rolled the long, brown bang-like bits at the front as if I were wringing them out. Smoothing down the front of my coat, I made my way to the meter, nonchalantly pulled the ticket out of the machine, and stuck it to the inside of the windscreen.

TO BE CONTINUED

(On request?)

Tatty bye,
Haze

(p.s. on blogworthy terms, I saw Francesca after Clarinetix [which was totally hilarious] and it was so lovely, she makes me happy amidst all of the poop I have somehow stooped myself in)

That sensation when something reminds you of something else

Last night, I listened to a CD. On a portable CD player, connected to portable speakers, so that I could relax in the shower, or you know, SING ALONG. But it kept skipping! And in this day and age, you just don’t get that anymore, right? It’s all digtal mp3s or mp4s and iPods and cables, not a jumpy and probably scratched CD flipping past chunks of excellent song! It just made me think back to all of those times, driving to Leeds, in the back of the car with my ripped Libertines CD’s from Felix, listening to WHOLE albums, just because I wanted to know, I just WANTED to sit and enjoy a WHOLE album, albeit on my knee and jumping around, skipping little bits of the song because the CD player didn’t have shock protection and was liable to skippage. I mean, those times were kind of precious, looking back. I just used to ABSORB myself in moments where I would sit, with a CD player, and know which song would come next. That sensation is weird, but I really love it. I really love listening to FULL albums. Which is why “the shuffle age” is really starting to annoy me. I skip past almost EVERY song these days. Why don’t I just play that album? Because, for me, it’s far easier to just stick the *real* CD on, through a variety of players, or burn it to a MIX CD( or even tape, yes, I still love making those :D) and then play that! The mix of music I have is great, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes, it’s just really great to listen to what you want without the surprises, pleasant as they may be, and just feel a little bit less anxious about what might shuffle into your head playlist.

On another note, we saw that really annoying man in the red Saab again this morning. Dad and I just laughed really heartily and he drove on. It was amusing :D
Also, another thing that’s pleasant is texting someone who you wouldn’t necessarily expect to respond to you in a pleasant way. That was odd last night. But also, getting in touch with a friend who you haven’t spoken to in at least a month, and them apologising for late replies, but just continuing a conversation smoothly is also really…just comforting. I had this moment in Biology yesterday, I know, kind of the wrong place to have it, but I’d finished the experiment, and test (HAVING RECEIVED AN “A” AND A NICE ONE OFFOF MR.JOHNSON *punches air*) and I was just sat there, thinking: “What if I’ve done it wrong? (not the test) What if I’ve made all of these choices, and I’ll look back to see that the people I’ve made friendships with will all have left me, and I won’t have appreciated the support network I had?”

And that was it. Just a brief flash of doubt. And then my real head kicked in and said “NO HAZE. LIVE IN THE MOMENT”
So that is what I’m doing. If it all goes wrong, I’ll live with it. I don’t really think it’s going to, I’m just really apprehensive that one day, it *might*. I don’t want it to, at all! It was certainly a scary thought, and I really surprised myself. I think that thinking like that is something I need to *STOP* doing.
My decisions must be right, because I’m really happy.

Although, I am going to be in school until 6pm tonight. It is now 8:22 (when writing this, not posting) A.M. THAT IS (just less than) 10 HOURS.


IT’S WRONG!
But I will be singing, so eeet’s not all bad :D
Anyway, this blog was really weird, and I don’t think I should try to divulge my depressive thoughts to you any more, right?
(Sorry it wasn’t a story James, I’ll keep thinking)

Tatty bye,
Haze


(EXCESSIVE USE OF BRACKETS POST? CHECK)

Never before and hopefully never again.

Last night was SPECTACULAR. All of the acts were utterly fantastic, so enthusiastic, and you knew for a fact they all loved what they were doing. A dude called Andrew Davey supported this other really vintage band (WHO WERE JUST REALLY COOL!) and then Mumford & Sons played about an hour and 15 minute set! It was AMAZING! However, I did experience something that was TOTALLY weird. Well, more than weird, it was genuinely frightening. I was stood, enjoying “Dust Bowl Dance” (I think, but to be fair, I think it’s quite FAIR that I might not remember what SONG it was…) and my stomach started doing these odd flips. I thought, yeah, I really am enjoying this, they’re awesome, and then my head started to go “No Haze, you’re too warm!” So I took off my scarf. Literally 30 seconds after, I started to think, oh gosh, I’m trapped between all of these people and I think I need to get out, what should I do? I don’t want to miss the end of their set! And so I blacked out. But it was so strange, I was completely conscious, of people around me and where I was. I made the decision to do something about it. I don’t know how, but I did. I pressed my hands out because I couldn’t see, and I could feel myself swaying to the music, so I didn’t really look out of place, but I really felt it. I can remember turning to face Alex (my friend who I went with) and saying “I CAN’T SEE!” and he was like “We can move if you want to!” So I just hollered back “NO I REALLY CAN’T SEE ANYTHING I THINK I AM ABOUT TO PASS OUT” He literally YOINKED me by the wrists and led me up the stairs past the bar and out to the fire doors, where there was another girl doing the same, but she also looked drunk. I mean, it was so odd sort of coming back around in and out of sort of consciousness as I was being dragged through the crowd. It was like a totally negative Polaroid and then it all blurred back into real life. The really funny thing about this, is that we were talking about like, passing out, when we were waiting outside to get in, before all of this chaos, due to my BRUISING on my shin. It’s now the most gorgeous shade of yellow on my knee and still blue/green all down the shin :D
But I told Alex how I’d fallen out of the bath, and he said that it was one of his biggest fears to fall out of the shower, like “WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO ME?” sort of thing. I told him about the time. OH YES, THE OTHER TIME (actually, this was before I’d kind of done it again, so it was just “that time”) I’d put myself in the recovery position before almost passing out because I could feel it coming, getting up after obviously passing out, and being fine. Now, bear in mind that this was the time when I was definitely the most ill I have EVER been, and hopefully it will be the only occasion (touch wood/head) because it was when I got out of the bath when I had chicken pox. Man, it really took me out of it, but being pre-emptive, I braced myself, and got through it.
If Alex hadn’t led me out, or God forbid, I hadn’t somehow decided to get out, I would have for sure just passed out and been laid on the floor, amongst the empty glasses and strange stickiness all over the lovely student union linoleum.
What a strange night.
I also went to McDonalds at about half past 11 at night, which I’ve never done before. People watching in there is really interesting, but the putrid stench of all of that ketchup and the drunk people with mayonnaise and bits of lettuce stuck to their faces is just a bit too wild for me. Just in case you’re wondering what I got from the fantastic food emporium, it was a bottle of water. AM I JUST THE COOLEST OFF THE WALL PERSON YOU HAVE READ A BLOG ABOUT RECENTLY? OR AM I NOT? Let me know  bahahahaha.
Anyway, we did some escalatatory adventuring in the metro station, and that was fun, then Alex’s Dad took me home, very kindly.

Eventful as it was, I got a free paper bag because I asked the merchandise man kindly, and the sort of people who follow Mumford & Sons tend to be really lovely Christian souls who just like doing nice things occasionally for the everyday people. It’s fantastic :D I also got a badge for signing up to the mailing list (Whiiiich I’m already on, but I wanted the badge!) and that really made me smile.

It’s 8:28 now, and I’ve been writing this for 20 mins. I need to go to the common room. I have so many layers on to keep me warm from the bitter chill of frost lurking in the air, that I’m starting to feel a little woozy now…
No wait, I’m fine.

BUS TIME TONIGHT :D
(WAS RUBBISH. I actually *read* on the bus)
p.s. I HAVE SOME SOCIAL RESEARCH TO DO! I LOVE IT!

Tatty bye,
Haze

Dumbass moment of the day

I should keep a more regular recording of these moments.
Monday’s was “the bath” incident.
Tuesday’s was for sure, the Uke presentation.
Wednesday’s was falling over a bag in the common room.
Thursday’s was getting jammed in between the two doors in the toilets with my bass clarinet box. That was *NOT* fun.

And so ONTO TODAY’S! AND IT’S NOT EVEN 20 PAST 8 IN THE MORNING!
I was getting out of the car. Singing Mumford & Son’s “The Cave” and just being really happy about the day ahead really. Then BAMMMM! I knocked my glasses off. They stick out from my face a little bit, but not all that much to be a daily nuisance. All in all, my face must have been too near to the doorframe of the car, and yes, my glasses FLEW from my ears, from atop my nose and landed on the ground next to my feet. Thankfully, they did not land lens down, but just as you would expect glasses to be left on any other ordinary tableau or work surface, with the arms outstretched and underneath of lens just touching the surface. I kind of shouted “OH BALLS MY GLASSES” and Dad was like “OH NO, REALLY?” I just sort of huffed off because I realised how dumb a thing it was to have happened to me; I mean, I knocked my OWN GLASSES OFF BECAUSE MY FACE WAS TOO NEAR TO A DOOR. Bearing this in mind, I have done this many times in many different places, against many different frames (some frame on frame action, geddit? Hahahaha NOT FUNNY HAZE) and I am not exaggerating.

I guess this just highlights how many of these awkward and potentially life defining moments happen to me, well, daily! I really am just a magnet for all of these mayhem inducing moments, at least they seem traumatic and devastating to me. It bugs me that I know some people who act awkward to get attention. Me? Seriously, it just HAPPENS. I think it’s mainly because I’m a really bad judge of spatial awareness, and partially because I’m quite obnoxious, but those are just my interpretations. People might think that I act like this for a reason, and if they do, they can get stuffed after telling me so. Do you ever think that? That you just wish people would tell you *really* what they think of you? It’s one of those things that annoys me about myself, I want to learn more about myself from others, but in a way, I’m still scared that their truth will point out the things about myself that I don’t want to recognise, but I do want to learn from, or you know, improve upon. I don’t know, but it’s just one of those things where I just feel this URGE to learn more, and observe the way that people observe me somehow. Anyway, those people that *Act* awkward? Please, you’re not doing yourself any favours. It’s not an endearing attitude to adopt really, is it?
At the end of the day, people will like you and want to spend time with you for who you really are (well I HOPE they do!) and if that someone is NOT NATURALLY AWKWARD, THEN THEY NEED A REALITY CHECK. I happen to be naturally awkward, obnoxious and sometimes rather, you know, frank. My friends accept that that is who I am, and I hope they like it. Not all of the time, but they understand.

I’m going for a meal with all of the people going on our Paris concert tour (in June) tonight. I’ve ordered a 12” pizza. Man, watching me plough through the WHOLE MOTHERLICKING PIZZA is going to be a spectacle. Not to mention awkward.

Tatty bye,
Haze

Queen of the Royally Awkward

If I were to run as president or ruler of any country, or state, I would probably run for The United States of Awkward. And would rule with supreme grace. CLEARLY.
I have come to point this out this morning because, well, I had a rather unfortunate accident last night.
Now, just to set the scene, Monday nights are those nights when…well I sort of have the most free reign over what I can do on a Monday. As a result of this, I’ve taken to having long baths before Glee. Now, my baths are LONG, DEEP AND HOT. (THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID…oh cripes). Also, when I am relaxed, I may need to point out, that this is my most awkward state. I mean REALLY. So, in this relaxed and quite calm mood, I decided to reach for a flannel. In the cupboard. Around the corner from the bath. SO!
STANDING UP (oh so sensibly in a slippy and HOT bath) I grabbed on to the side of the sink, and lent. Oh my, I did underestimate how slippy that surface was. Inevitably, I ended up completely and utterly BRUISED. I slipped ok? AND IT HURT. A LOT. The worst thing was that it sounded horrific and really loud because the water splashed back and my other foot knocked my pot of cream off the side of the bath. Just to set the scene, I was leaning with one hand against the shower wall (only really Liz and Mum can picture this, maybe James, but to the rest of you, GOOD LUCK MUAHAHHAHA), one hand leaning OUT of the bath and onto the sink, this was then the hand that reached into the cupboard (which is like, behind the shower “wall”, it’s what creates the bit for the shower to be attached to) and LO AND BEHOLD, ONE FOOT GAVE WAY AND I ENDED UP THE REACHING HAND ON THE FLOOR OF THE BATHROOM, MY HIP AND LEG CRASHING AGAINST THE SIDE OF THE BATH, AND MY OTHER LEG KNEELING ON THE FLOOR, KNOCKING THE CREAM OVER. And of course, after all of this, I nonchalantly screamed “I’M FINE” and decided the best plan of action was just to GET BACK IN THE BATH AND CALM THE BRUISES.
As a result of this, I now have the most killer ninja bruises EVER. You know, the ones that you can sense but can’t see. They’re like bruises in TRAINING. Man, I bet they appear later during the week, a stonking shade of purple, blue, green and yellow. I shall report back to you, I know you’d all love to know about the state of my bruising, it’s clearly the most RIVETING THING YOU WILL READ ALL WEEK.

I got my nerd glasses back offof Alice last night. I sat and talked to her Mum for like half an hour before she got back in from getting an injection. Man, if there’s one creature or being that I admire the most on this planet, it’s Mothers. I think that is all I shall say for now, I may explore this later in another post, this one needs to retain its air of ambiguity and awkwardness for now. Anyway, Dom told me that he’d been wearing my glasses, but Alice told me that he took them out of her bag, and after realising that they were mine and not Alice’s, continued smiling. I also, continued smiling.
I hope I am not putting all of my peeps in one basket.
Alas (earwax) I must return to my stupor in light of this heavy load of work I must do. I have to cut out some corduroy OH SO CAREFULLY (not on the day of awkward, oh no, I AM JINXED) and then give a presentation on the Ukulele to some Cadets this evening. Give me strength.


(Strength was needed, BUT I PULLED THROUGH AND THEY WERE STUNNED. YAYz!!!!)


Tatty bye,
Haze