So, the toilet was talking to me today. It has started to make this eerie noise which makes you a bit weary when you are in the house on your own. Eek! Eek! Eek!

Finished Potter last night, so have been super tired at work all day which wasn't good, but it was topped off by the most grouchy woman at work. I mean, come on, she sat there and didn't say a word in an office of three people for six hours. She scares me. Boss reckons she won't be back tomorrow - wheh hey - as she cleared out some of her drawers - I'm thinking she's got issues. No, issues, not tissues. Hmm, maybe she left some tissues behind, always good for random sneezing fits.

Getting my hair cut this week, can't bloody wait. I was the last person that cut it, thought I did a pretty good job, actually. I know what you're thinking, cheap bitch can't even get herself a lousy haircut! But, it's because I was in Japan and they aren't the best at cutting western hair. The last time I went in they thought my hair was super thick, when it's actually super thin, and razored and layered and all sorts - it was a bit scary. Although the hair washing part was good, though it came after the haircut, random but true.

Had a sausage role for the first time on over a year today. Think it's doing funny things to my stomach. Might stick to a MacDonalds lunch, I am loving their sweet chilli chicken deli burger thing at the moment, ohh, simply scrumptious!

Toodle pip.

Sometimes, you're just feeling so upbeat nowt can beat you down. Driving today, listening to Mr Nutini on the stereo, the bright, round yellow sun (who needs fancy descriptive words!) was sinking in front of me, and it actually cast a warm glow over the surrounding trees and in my thoughts. Ahh, lovely! Sometimes you have to just give in the joys of the world and appreciate them!

I am loving the clear, blue sky, and the big, fat, fluffy bright white clouds. They offset each other and are a great roof to a jolly life!

Saw two rainbows on Saturday, haven't seen a rainbow in England-o for a long time.

Life is just, well, damn well crispy. You wanna grab it. Take the highs with the lows.

A-ha, now there is something. You apply for a job. People say 'don't get your hopes up', but what the hell else are you gonna do. Stay constant and feel no emotion? The excitement of waiting gets you high. Sure, if you don't get it, you feel low, but it's to appreciate the high, you just aren't allowed to dwell on the low, and because you have been high and low before you know you will come up, you just have to have faith in your own logical well-being. And, you never know, you might get the job and simply fly even higher. Get it? Good, give yourself a pat on the back.

Now, due to lack of sleep I will probably be in a grump tomorrow, will let you know. Keep updated here, on channel blog news. Goodnight, and thank you for reading.

Ooohh, I hate thinking thoughts and then forgetting to write them down and then I think I had a thought and it was a good thought but I'll be damned if I can remember that thought.

We forget sounds! I forget the precise noise of a telephone that I remember playing several days a day at the reception of the school I worked at in Japan. I remember trying to ingrain it in my brain because it was irritating and that one day I would look back and it would make me smile. I forgot the annoying jingle they kept playing outside the computer store.

Another contradiction coming up. Saying we forget sounds, I remember the sound of people's voices. When I read something they have written, I picture the person and read it in my head but it takes on their tone, accent and inflections.

I always thought that songs are really easy to remember. The tune, the beat and the words. They are constantly replayed over and over, even songs you don't like are generally fairly easy to sing along to. This is what they should do with the school curriculum. Then far more people would retain more of the knowledge that is delivered. I remember the words of songs from years back, and I am sure you do too. Then if they took my advice on board, ten years down the line I would still remember the rules of grammar, which when teaching I realised I didn't know, I just use them automatically (if someone asks the question why? I don't know the answer. It 'sounds' wrong isn't really adequate for an advanced level student). I'd also know a little more history and a little more geography.

This raises another question. Do we only remember when we find interesting, or is it that we read something time and time and eventually it takes up a part of our brain and it cannot be erased?

Oh, I should have been a philospher, I think I would be good. I read Sophie's world and loved it, so I purchased a simple Intro to Philosophy book which I still haven't read, two years on. But damn, eventually I will get arouns to it!

Do you notice how I seem to think I would be good at everything? Funny huh? Well, not amusing at all really. Tee hee. See, a mere minor laugh.

Now, be off with you, this gal has got the final installment of Potter to read.

DJ's that can't dance. What's that about? Music is their life, pumping on the stereo in front of a wild, high on something crowd. I'm not talking DJ's that sit in a room and broadcast something on air - fool - but the ones you find at live events, spinning their records, or playing music off their laptop 'cause that really gets the vibes going man, psychedellic dude. Again, of the many things I would've liked to have been a DJ is one of them. Spinning tunes. Maybe Hakuna Mutata (?) followed by Eric Clapton, or just mixed together with the occasional sound of marbles dropping on the floor at irregular intervals and then playing the whole thing on fast forward. Wow, that even looks the button on my stereo, I am SO cool.

Mosquitos this year are a lot bigger than last year. And a lot louder. See previous post for a more inciteful discussion regarding the disease carriers.

Overtake a bike in your car, stop at the traffic lights soon after, and you have to overtake the same bike again. Sheesh, what a pavlova.

The word qi exisists in scrabble, as does ae.

And if anyone asks, smoking is bad for you, especially when you use a match that when you strike into your body (well, you've disregarded thoughts of internal health, you might as well set fire to yourself too) a small spark flies into your unkempt hair and you throw your head about, but alas! too late. The smell of burning hair is in the air. A while back I was in a club and borrowed a lighter of someone who was sitting down. I had to lean over some railings and then there was a definite smell of burnt hair. Thank the lord I don't wear hairspray, hallelujah. Although I suppose no-one wears hairspray. No-one has a can strapped to their head or anything. One of my friends every day uses half a bottle of mousse on her hair. It's like she's going through the foam part of Funhouse or something. But her hair never looks greasy and always looks really good. Oh yah, just like mine yah, a flick here, a flick there, like I've just stepped out of a salon. Always baby.

I love clear, crisp blue skies. You really appreciate them after having lived in Japan which is as overcast as the ringroad in coventry.

Toodle pip, off to start Harry Potter. Tried reading it earlier, but again I fell asleep the loser that I am. I tell yee, it's the work life. Bloody knackering.

I was asked today if my parents were from England or not. Actually, they both aren't English I started to say, until I was interrupted, upon which point one of my new colleagues tried to guess where they were from. Greece? No. Italy? No. Spain? No. Portugal? No. France? No. So in the end I had to give it to them. My mum is from Finland. Yes, that's right. I am totally exotic.

Now lets take a moment, and think about our general impressions. When we think of someone from Italy, Spain, we think dark hair, tanned. What about someone from Greece? What does the typical greek look like? This I am interested in because that was the first guess. Dark hair? Tanned? A funny nose? Oh, the mind boggles! And then on the flip side. Someone from Scandinavia. Tall, blonde. Well I am tall, but certainly not blonde. Think that had them a bit stumped.

I got home todauy, had my dinner and then promptly fell asleep again. This is not good.

Questions after questions at work. Why are you temping? What do you like? What do your parents do? Where did you go to uni? What did you study? Argh! Gimme a break. I just wanna go in, do some work, get paid for it, and then go home. Simple. At least it's a laid back office which is good.

Not much inspirational thought tonight.

Oh god, that and the fact that apparantly I look like I constantly want to punch someone. I can't help it, that miserable face rears its ugly head again, har har! There's nowt I can do about it. If I am sat there looking at my computer screen, I don't give a second thought to what expression is on my face. I am concentrating!! But again, yes, I do have a miserable face, oh lordy!

Byesey wyesey.

I grew up putting ketchup on everything. I was a fussy eater (sweetcorn is still the devil's food) and ketchup made everything taste better. Ketchup on chips, fish fingers, pizza, as well as spaghetti and rice. Now, it's tabasco. Have you noticed that? The older you get the spicier everyone wants their food! When I cook now, I throw tabasco in the mix. When I eat now, I throw tabasco on the top. Tabasco here, tabasco there, tabasco everywhere. Hmm, that was a bit dull.

But I did just have a thought. When people say, 'Hi, it's so and so, I am your presenter for today', they should instead say, 'Hi, I'm so and so, I am your placenta for today.'

So yeah, I am in the workforce proper like. Getting up at 6.30, getting home at 4.30. Then falling asleep. God, I hate being a worker! But, at least there are some financial gains and it means I am eating less (and smoking less!), so I am now not in danger of getting stuck in the chair. Imagine over eating all of a sudden and getting stuck in a chair. If it was a sofa, you'd be screwed. But, if it was a wheely chair, you'd be in luck. Literally, a wheel chair.

Someone blocked the toilet at work today with a big poo. Someone else had to unblock it. You think if you block the toilet with your own poo you'd also unblock it?!

What's the worst sound in the world? A mosquito buzzing past your ear. It's unmistakable. I remember two years ago when I was on holiday with a friend. There was a mosquito trapped in our room and it buzzed past my ear. We were trying to sleep and I complained about the noise of the mosquito. 'Mosquitos don't make a noise!' my friend said. Lo and behold, a mere five minutes later she screams. 'What the hell was that squeaky buzzy noise?'. Yes, that would be the afore mentioned mosquito I was talking about, chuckle chuckle. So then we had to chase it round the apartment and I ended up having it squashed on my book. Let me tell ya, my book was sooooo, like, totally pissed off.

Do you know one of these people? They feel ever so slighty harrassed, and everytime you phone them, it's like their world is falling apart. You pop into the office to see them, because this person is your boss, and there they are, pulling their hair out, smoking because they are so stressed and their world is about to fall apart. They've grown stubble, because it's like, really physically affecting them. God, attention seekers suck the life right out of you. Who has time for them?

Anyway, sleepy weepy time.

So, big day tomorrow. I enter the workforce yet again. I am in the highly esteemed position of administrator in a removal firm. A temporary worker. I had kind of got used to the idea of not working again in England, so that's just been ripped out from asunder. Gone are the joyful days of procrasinator, oh, how I loved those days, sniff sniff.

Then I realised I had no black trousers because I dumped them all in Japan to fit souveniers and other unnecessary items into the suitcase, so I had to make a dash to the town centre. Time was tícking, the phone call for the job had come in late. I hadn't yet eaten my late lunch. Did I make it? Dum dum duuummmmm. Yeah, I did. Phew. I actually dumped a lot of stuff in Japan so now I don't really have any clothes. Somehow I still managed to get charged £100 in excess baggage. I'd already packed and re-packed three times and I wasn't about to do it at the airport. I was still a little drunk when I handed the cash over and it almost resembled Monopoly money so it didn't make too much of a dent.

So that's it, early night tonight. I'm wide awake but got to try and sleep to get up at 6am, oh my god, I'm becoming normal, argh!

Yep, it's that time of night.

Hmm, any inspiration from moi? Going out for a ciggy - to take a moment and breathe in some of that fresh, tar filled air - and to ponder my smal place in this big, big world. Man, being deep really isn't me.

So now I am back, I was flooded with things to write now I've forgotton them all. But for some reason I was pretending I had my own radio show, maybe on Radio 2 when I am in my thirties, and I was talking about Take That. I imagined myself saying the saddest one of them all is the ex-member, Robbie. Yes, he's the richest, but he's not really a real person. In interviews he's very much jack the lad, ooohh, I'm an entertainer. But yet he's been in re-hab (I think?) and just never really seems content with life, griping about something. Personally I think his ego is quite big. And the other members of TT seem quite happy. Personally, I don't own anything recorded by TT, they just aren't my thing, but they are enjoying their renewed fame and fair play to them. See, deep really isn't me (and that was a song by East 17 anyway - hey, these groups were part of my youth!!).

I often imagine my future, where I will be and what I'll be doing. Definitely not in England. I hate the pressure of being amoungst other Brits, do this, do that, wear this, wear that. Argh! Take me to a place where fashion is not on the forefront. I'd rather spend my money socialising, a person of the people, getting to know others and finding out what makes them tick.

I would ideally like to be writing something, hence I am doing this now, as a log for what I am thinking - inspirational, but only for me! But I just don't have the dedication right now. I find my brain works faster than what I can type (as I guess do most peoples') and then when it comes to penning thoughts on the computer (paper is just sooo last year) I forget and my mind goes blank and I get distracted. Therefore I don't in any consider myself to be a writer at the moment. I think a writer is someone who makes money with their craft, it's their job. I can say writing is one of my hobbies, that's ok. But mention that you have ever written something to someone and they all assume now that you are a writer. I'm not. Neither am I a photographer, but I love taking photos. Both areas (writing and photography) need plenty of work, more practice and dedication.

My ideal job would have been a war photographer. I guess that sounds bad. War, of course, isn't a good thing (slightly underestimated but I can't quite think of a proper alternative right now), but it fascinates me. I don't know what part, it's nothing specific. I read the autobiography of Don McCullin, a news photographer. Of course it doesn't sound glamorous or safe, but a bit on the edge. Adrenalin pumping without being in the actual line of fire unless you really put yourself out on a limb (and maybe lose a limb in the process). And I guess this ties in with feelings of wanting to be a journalist too, but I don't know enough about the world to write anything of substance. In fact, sometimes I think I don't know anything. And also for journalism you have to have a real passion for a story, hunting it down at all costs and I just don't have the drive. So ideally a photojournalist. Guess I could've just said that eh?

Whenever there are debates I always have lots of questions. I like the people that take the time to answer the questions. Oh my god, what annoys me is when you ask a simple question, and get a lengthy reply back full of extra information that you didn't want to know so you switch off and never actually hear the answer to the question. Or, when people are having a discussion and all they want is to get their opinion heard so they don't answer your question.

I think I (don't we all, I guess) learn a lot from discussing subjects. You might hear something about a subject you didn't know before, or simply hear someone else's opinion. But please, people, don't talk at me 'cause I'm not stupid, and don't lie to me if you don't know the answer.

Ahh, that brings me to another point. When you're growing up, and you ask parents/adults a question, they often tease you with something that isn't the right answer. Now, you may laugh, but you also take it seriously. And that stays with you. Be honest with children, is all I can say. I can't think of any specifics now, but imagine being a child on the school playground. A child is still convinced at the age of 10 the moon is made of cheese. The poor thing might get the shit kicked out of him for being so stupid. I mean, Father Christmas is ok. Sometimes I am still convinced he is real. What did I just write? Ok, so slinking back to my carefree, childhood days!

It's only when you are older, at Christmas time, sitting on Santa's knee that you realise there is a Santa in every shop in the high street - how does he get everywhere in one day? Bet I didn't ask that question, probably too focused on trying to convince Santa I had been good that Christmas and would he please, please, drop off the barbie in the chimney, many thanks.

Oh, time to go. Early night tonight. Erm, kinda ... !!

I just had a flashback of being at school. In fact, now several are rolling in.

I remember sports day. Year 10 I think it was. As a class we had to allocate different people to represent the different sports. The girls were exceedingly outnumbered by the boys, so instead of opting out I was gently prompted into doing the high jump. Because I was tall. Yes, that is how sport works. If you are tall you can do the high jump. If you have big leg muscles you can do the 100m. If you are stupid you can do the cross-country run (remind me of that one later, another great story).

So there I am. Amoungst seven other girls, each representing their class. Secretely excited, and also secretely thinking I've got this one in the bag. I looked around. There were a few shorter than me, a few a bit heavier. Yeah, no problem. And what happened? The infallible scissor action let me down. No, it wasn't the fact I was extremely unfit and hadn't attempted the high jump for about two years. I came 7th. SEVENTH. Out of 8 people. All the shorter and heavier people beat me. See, that's what happens when you get cocky, you become unstuck and the scissor legs let you down.

Now back to cross country. The most stupid thing to do for PE, because most people walk round the route and end up being late for the next class. So anyway, school being school they chose to do it on a day when there had been some heavy rain, maybe in the morning or the day before. It was a time when it was 'cool' to not tie the laces on your trainers, so a lot had them tucked into their shoe. So of course, we all run over a muddy patch. Except no-one is running because it's so muddy. In fact, people are stopping to exchange mild conversation about how shit this lesson was. See, complaining gets you nowhere - in fact, it gets you stuck in the mud. Because, unbeknown (is that a word?) to the complainers, they were mildly sinking and slowly becoming stuck. Then it came time to move on and move their feet. And what happened? Oh, the legs moved no problem, it was the shoes that were stuck. I remember someone asking me as I squelched past to help them. Fuck that, I wasn't stopping for anyone for fear I would get stuck too. Oh, those weren't the days.

I do remember playing hockey. There were several divisions of boys and girls clases. While the boys played rugby, cricket and football, we played netball, hockey and basketball. I got so angry (I tend to get mildly competitive when playing games, you honestly might not recognise my normally mild-mannered self), I was shouting up the cement pitch (sometimes we played on grass, sometimes concrete) which pissed a few people off, I didn't realise at the time, people came up to me afterwards and asked me what the hell did I think I was doing, and I hit my hockey stick on the ground and broke it. Poor, wooden stick. What's even funnier is that I was pretty average in everything at school. I wasn't really disliked, I was pretty meek, not a horrible person but not a push-over either. So when these 'tough' (aka stupid idiots) start asking me who did I think I was giving them orders on the pitch, I actually couldn't believe it. Of course, at the time, I slinked away, it wasn't worth it, but looking back now I chuckle, I must have got them quite irrate. Amusing. The meek girl is shouting at the tough girls. Ho ho ho.

I was good at the javelin. Think that was because my arms were long. Nothing about skill. Jeez, I've already told you how sport works.

Cringe.

A word teenagers use but something I do very often. Sometimes I get flash backs to things I said/did and my body seems to shrink as I wish I could take that moment back. I wish I was one of those people that this didn't happen to. They stretch back as far as school up til now. Why oh why did I do that/say that. I mean, the moment is fleeting, I don't dwell on it, but it's there all the same. Probably monthly, so bo biggie. I must confess, mostly when I have been drunk. Logical thought goes out the window, you don't notice things you normally do, until the true light of day hits, and slowly, with friends serving as prompts, things start to gradually hit you. But, there is always reassurance, as chances are everyone else was as drunk as you and is not worrying about you did, but what they did. A vicious, unneccesary circle!

I have a mix of cringeworthy moments, like dancing on speakers like an idiot (the least cringey, and in all fairness, maybe not at all) to abusing others whilst is seems like everyone else is sleeping but actually they are hearing everything you are saying, and remind you, not in times of need, exactly what you said.

Someone told me you shouldn't regret anything you've done. I don't regret it. I just have moments when I am fleetingly embarrased. It doesn't affect my day to day life, before you therapists get onto the case.

And speaking of therapy, etc, does it really work? How do you know when you are cured? Is there a cure? I suppose therapists is extremely Americanised of me. I do apologise. Form here on in we shall refer to them as counsellors or psychologists, depending on how my mood takes me.

If I were a counsellor I would find it hard not to go to sleep. Late nights and such taking their toll. Unless someone had a very interesting problem. Oh, that sounds bad eh?

You see, I think I know a lot about myself as a person. I love hearing things about me, good or bad. I take criticism extremely well, so long as it's not needlessly malicious. I take on board suggestions, I won't use all of them. My friends are always going on about my hair. All friends. I wake up, shower and wash my hair, and let it dry within the wilds of the natural wind. Sometimes it dries excellently, other times, well, it dries a bit horribly. You see, my hair has a natural curl, nothing corkscrew or excellent like that, more of a wave if you like. When it's humid it goes much curlier, and when it rains lightly also. If I am going out, I might straighten it. But I often forget about my hair on a day to day basis. Until I go to the toilet, when I might glance in the mirror and think what the hell happened here? Two seconds later it's forgotton until I next look in the mirror. Someone suggested why not have it chemically straightened. No, I don't want to. Who wants dull, straight hair every day? Someone else suggested making it more curlier; I really can't be arsed, you know?

Anyway, enough is enough is enough, I can't go on, I can't go on now baby ...

Back again.

A bit early tonight. Maybe I should come back later.

It's weird the differences you notice between the day and the night. When I go smoking at night, because the world has quietened down, I hear the back door creak as I open it so go out for a cigarette. It's something I only notice in the evening, because I always think I am somehow squashing the dog, or some extra house inhabitant, like a mouse. But during the day I don't hear it. I also see a lot more frogs and mice at night. Guess they aren't scared to pop out of their dwellings. Now the cat has passed onto the fluffy clouds high up in the sky there are lots more four legged species roaming the garden.

I remember when the cat brought in a mouse once, and played with it. It was awful to watch, but also fascinating. It then properly killed it and ate it, and you could hear it munching on the bones. Reminded me of when I used to live in Battersea. It was a bit of an old, decrepid house. Moss green carpets, the strangest wicker sofa ever and mismatched furniture. Well, we had a mouse. So we fed it quavers. I know, I know, stupid thing to do. But we turned the telly off and you could hear it munching. I think it liked the melt in your mouth cheesy sensation, because the next day there were two of the buggers, and so of course we had to exterminate. But despite being vermin they were cute!

I've got a raving headache today. I'm addicted to coke (that's Coca-Cola if you don't mind!) and drink several cans a day. So today, having had none, withdrawel symptons have kicked in. In the end I stopped the cold turkey and shot to Tesco and purchased more. I guess it's like coffee. I've heard the same thing happens with that, though I can't say for sure because it gives me a dodgy tum and I get scared of farting ...

Mmm, just eaten a bag of monster munch, tasty! Oh, and I have just learnt/learned (?) how to burn a CD! I know, I am slightly behind with the times. It's great! I can now put all my favourite songs onto one CD and play them over and over again until I get sick of them, but then I can compile a new CD! I win every time!

Oh, and another thing. Cloud 9 is supposed to be happy right? I jsut wondered why it isn't cloud 7, seeing as 7 is a generally accepted lucky number? Or is it that luck and happiness are very different? Gosh, one just isn't sure is one?

I love flip-flops. Flip-flops are without doubt my favourite shoe. Being tall, it means my friends nearly reach the same height as me which is a bonus. And they are cheap, and you have no problem with them not fitting either. Although I was wearing flip-flops when I was running, tripped over a curb and instead of putting two hands down I put one hand and my face (see post below for results - 8 stitches between my eyes if you can't be arsed). But they were strange flip flops, and it was obviously my fault for not seeing the curb in the first place (it was dark - and no, I wasn't drunk).

Wow, I am still wide awake, I could go on for hours and hours and hours.

Something midly amusing. This story is thanks to a friend. When I was teaching in Japan, one guy used to go into his classroom every time and say 'hello chaps'. Eventually, he started getting complaints, and when it was looked into it turned out the students thought he was saying 'hello Japs'! Har har, worth a mention.

My toes are now cold, which is the only problem with wearing flip-flops. I even wore flip-flops to a wedding once. Looking back now I am slightly embarrased, but hey-ho. Everyone kept looking at my feet, although I wasn't sure if they were looking at my shoes or the blood blister on my big toe (again, from the same fall as mentioned earlier). Maybe I should have put a tick box on my forehead to resolve the issue. Got another wedding this summer, won't be wearing flip-flops. Gotta find an outfit though, bit nervous about that. Money, money, money. The good thing is there are loads of dresses around at the moment so it shouldn't be too hard to find something nice. I'm just worried I'll have the same dress as someone else, that would be annoying!

Anyhow, off I trot. Ta ta.

Hmm, I promised amusing things and nothing much amusing has been written, though I do find it mildly so, and that's what important.

Strolling around Sainsburys in the fresh produce aisle, and some poor person took out a plastic bag, put two carrots in it and they dropped right through and fell onto the ground. So suprised was I that I laughed quite loudly without meaning to, it just erupted from me so fast that I felt a bit mean afterwards. Then I thought they should do that more often. Put in a whole load of plastic bags with no bottoms and see what people do. Man, I should write for one of those sketch shows. Channel 4 here I come. Or maybe Big Bro, you get more money that way. Oh lordy, I'm as shallow as a paddling pool!

I don't know why I write this time of the night, it's almost like time to go to sleep, lets stretch it out a bit longer. And then I have to read a chapter of my good before I sleep otherwise it never gets read. I'm trying to be stern with my routine. Eat, sleep, eat, sleep. There sometimes just isn't enough time in the day to do everything.

You may have noticed my tongue in cheek type humour. If you haven't, then I suggest you don't read anymore, because it means you don't get me and you don't get life. Choose life and try to understand. Either way, with my tongue in my cheek I'm constantly spitting. Rah.

Trying to think of other amusing things now. Why is it when under pressure you can never think of anything, so now I am thinking my life's dull even though it's no way near. Ish. If I try and think about what I laughed at today, I can't pinpoint anything but I know it's been a good day.

A girl I went to school was pretty miserable (sorry, onto that again) and she never really, honestly laughed. You know, when you throw your head back, you can't breathe and everything sets you off. I love people with infectious laughs. The best is when you aren't supposed to be laughing and you end up making weird snort noises. When I was in school, my French teacher sent me out for laughing. My friends and I had already been split up and sat in four corners of the room. She asked for my homework and I started laughing and I couldn't stop. She sent me out. So I sat outside, huddled in the corridor between the wall and a row of lockers, praying the head of year didn't walk past.

I do remember my head of year having a go at me once, for having my tie tucked into my shirt. I mean, it was all the rage, everyone was doing it. The next time he saw me he apologised. What was the point of that? I have no respect for people in authority when they can't do their job properly. If you're gonna have a go at me (ok, so I might have given some lip back) at least stand by it. As a teacher, and head of year, don't apologise unless you think you are in the wrong. You could say he felt bad because I was generally a good student (well, I wasn't beating people unconscious or kicking holes in doors), but still, stand by what you say. Oh, the kicking in the door thing - that was a good student too, honestly. He got expelled. But we'll keep the drug dealers and the bullys in, because they give the school their good reputation. How messed up is that?

Last day of school. Lets give prizes to all the people in the year that make everyone else's life a misery. To be honest, I didn't really notice they were doing that until someone piped up that's what it was. It was the same teacher I mentioned before, wanting to keep people on his good side, wanting to be popular. Who cares if the idiots like you? Reward the people that give the school the reputation (pretty average!) and get the good grades and that generally behave!

I was always awful for homework. Especially maths. Always completing it when I got into school late, drawing parallelograms under the desk when the register was being taken. Well, obviously in my book. Chewing gum goes under the table.

Is it true that if you swallow chewing gum it stays in your stomach for seven years? Hmm, I'll have to Wikipedia that one.

Ok then, time for sleep. Slater. (The last word is a sign of how cool I am and how 'down with the kids' I am. Yes sirreee! This one shows how I'm not. See, again, contradictions!).

PS - I can never be bothered to edit these things. I re-read the other posts and think OH MY GOD. Well, more like oh my god. But it's such an effort, you know. And I've already explained how bisy my life is and that I am unemployed and I find I have no time for nowt except procrastinator. I am self employed and work for 'Sloths-R-Us'.

I don't understand why some people are always so miserable. You go into a shop, sometimes the same shop every day, and the person serving you is miserable is sin. Look, we all have bad days but seriously, every friggin day? You just wanna slap them one and tell them to smile.

Actually, I get that a lot. 'Smile love, it might never happen'. Even my Aunt told me the other day I hardly ever smile. I was suprised (but then I see her about every 18 months!). I do genuinely have a face that if I am not smiling I seriously look miserable as sin. It's not my fault, it's my genes! No-one can smile 24/7, they'd have serious face ache!

Oh no! Have I just contradicted myself in the first and the second paragraph? That's another bad habit when I'm writing, contradicting myself. One must keep a check on that yah? But, it's not actually contradicting. Here is the difference: miserable looking people that are rude, miserable looking people that are polite and friendly. Guess which one I am? Yup! The latter!

My first job when I was 15 was in a shoe shop, selling shoes (thought I'd help you out with a handy description - your welcome). My boss used to tell me to smile. I'm smiling on the inside was my reply. So basically standing in the middle of the shop I looked miserable. I must confess I had a stare out competition with a small child in this shop. I think I won because he started crying. Honestly, if I'd have known he would've ended up crying I'd have passed on that competition and tried to win a car instead! Anyways (I must stop digressing) as soon as a customer popped their foot through the door I was extremly polite, helpful AND smiling. You see, it does make a difference.

I'm a positive person, and always look for the positive things. I'm not hopelessly positive to the point where a friends house burns down and my comfort reply is 'don't worry, the back to the future car is real and you can unplug that faulty wire and there will be no fire'. Random? I hope so! Half full is my cup. Time to get another one in then eh? Mine's a pint you stingy bastard.

I am talking about miserable people because I went to the post office today, a local village type store set within a small newsagents. Working in the newsagents was this woman, and on the way out I smiled and nodded to her. She looked at me like I was from Mars, her eyes moved into slits like I was going to steal something and she made no acknowledgement, not even a one degree inclination of her head to the south. Miserable bitch were my exact thoughts.

The best jaunt into town was again to the post office, nearly two years ago now. The week before I had fallen over and cut my face between my eyes (had to go under the knife with the plastic surgeon and I got me 8 stitches, boy, was I proud. Well, not really, but none of that is the point). So anyway, from this I had a piece of white tape to protect my stitches, lots of swelling and two yellowy7black/blue eyes (I had to go back to work because I was temping, poor, and no sick pay). All the grannies in the post office were staring at me, it was hilarious, and all eyed me with suspicion. What's this young thug doing in the Post Office, ready to mug us?! Although I exaggerate, there were a fair amount of sympathy stares too. Oh, the excitement.

Tired. Off to bed. My eyes are closing and I can't see. Well, that's not true either, because I can blatantly see the keys on the keyboard.

Oh my god, I love Caffreys. It's so smooth and creamy, and lulls you into an extremely satisfying mellow drunkness. Spirits are the worst for me. I can get hyper and start shouting. Beer and wine are fine, happy drunk - the best drunk. But why do I get drunk? I don't know, analyse my life and tell me if you disagree with what's about to come. I like being drunk amidst large groups. It's a coping mechanism. I become less aware of myself and more chameleon-like, feeling like I blend into the surroundings.

I don't understand why some people are so judgemental. I watch Big Bro and I read Heat magazine. Have you classified me yet? I suppose you have. What if I also told you in my CD collection there are numerous pop and dance albums. Yes, you can put your brain on auto-pilot and decide what kind of person I am. It's a natural reaction. A short-circuit to the brain so we require less thinking time. The official clarification? A stereotype. We all do it, I know I bloody well do it. What annoys me is the people that look down on me for watching Big Bro or reading Heat. Sure, that's where some people stop. But then if I told you I read biographies about dead Russian presidents or that I have in my CD collection anything and everything from Paul Simon and Miles Davis to ?. Or is that me over-analysing others' reactions?

Think abouy it. A conversation. We are going to take Heat magazine as an example. I read Heat magazine. You can see the reactions of others. Some raise an eyebrow, some ask why. Why not? Sure, it's the gossip, it's about the only crossword I can do without asking someone else the answers and it also has the TV guide. I don't need to justify it but for people who can think they are better than me, will (in an obvious way) look down their noses at me. It's fun, it's light entertainment, and god, after all the crap that happens on a day to day basis we could do with something light.

OK, so then we come onto the morals of such a magazine. It's an invasion of privacy, blah de blah. I guess it is a vicious circle, I can't jutisfy it. The media do create and maintain a celebrity's status. But I do think it is part of the territory, and some people crave it. For example, the whole world seems to know a lot about Posh & Becks. What do we know about Tom Hanks?

I digress, but the point I want to make it don't judge me on it.

I loved the film ??? (forgotton it's name - Robin Williams is the therapist with the two young guys who also wrote it), and his character explains go out there and breathe the air of a country, soak in the culture. Basically live it, don't read it. I've just spent over a year living in another country. I can talk about the people of that country, their values, but I will also never know what it is like to be bought up such a country. Even if I moved there when I was 18 and lived there for the rest of my life, took their citizinship, I would never have their in-built cultural psyche.

For people that visit another country and get frustrated (and I mean REALLY frustrated) don't go there. Respect the country you are in. Respect the people, respect the values.

Oh, time for a ciggy and TV viewing. Catch you later. From one semi-insightful person to another over and out (that's from me to me, har har).

I'm lucky. Generally, I'm a stress free, laid back, relaxed and somewhat lazy person. In the days when I was a commuter on the tube and there were delays, mainly on the way home, I would sit watching and listening to people tut, moan and gripe. Sat there for twenty or so minutes on a train that isn't moving, what can you do? Get stressed or sit and read your book/someone else's paper/the products Argos has on sale. Erm, the latter please.

See, these things make me laugh. Life has it's ups and downs, over the years, and in the space of twenty minutes. Sometimes, it's beyond your control, so you just have to ride it out.

That's me at the minute. I'm on a bit of a downer, but I know there is light at the end of the seeminglessly endless, narrow, claustrophobic tunnel. So as long as that wee little Argos torch doesn't break I'll be onto a winner! Let me out, let me out. It's a bit like being a fish in a deep puddle.

What I love even more is that I don't make sense. There is no rhyme or reason, but there doesn't need to be. All this crap about form, style, rules in everything we do. If you're good at something, you're good. It you're crap at something, you're crap. You can learn goodness from crapness, or merely enhance the crapness. If you know you're crap you're onto a winner. If you enjoy the crap then do it anyway. I know this is non-sensical, but do you know what? This is my blog and I just don't care. Ego-centric, gosh, I think so, don't you?!

Oh, I am so overwhelmed.

Looks like the plans are slowly forming for the next phase of life. Was starting to get a little worried there, honest.

I do think I have serious problems which need to be addressed, however. I can hold my hand up, in amongst this little blog circle, and say without hesitation 'I am addicted to Scrabble'. God, just saying those words I feel the pressure lift off my shoulders like the letter tiles sat precariously on them were made of tin foil. Phew. Maybe now I can move on and leave this soul destroying part of my life in the garden shed, where it belongs with the lawn mower and the carcus of the mouse the cat caught pre-2007 when it was still alive.

Crikey, it's raining again. Oh, I must say, the grass has never looked greener. And those birds! Look at them hopping about after a shower! Bet they never had it so good. Worm central the back garden is now! Hop on board the worm train, choo choo. Come on birds, buy one get one free! Save your seat now! Terms and conditions do apply (or should that be worms and conditions?).

Ahh, the release. Going for a ciggy and a poo, catch you later.

I'm actually pretty tired. Just had a late night jaunt to the petrol station and to the coach station where I live. Wild, yes sirree. Not many folks on the road at this time of night, just the odd drunkard who insists on using the white road markings as a pavement. A bit like bowling really. The drunk as the skittle and me in my car as the ball.

Gosh. I feel under pressure now about what to write.

As a member of the illustrious 'unemployed but highly employable' group within the small collection of islands that make up Great Britain I needed something to do with my time, so, a-ha! Take On Me you blog thing you. And here I am. Withering and dithering until the heavens open up again (the way the weather is at the moment probably in, oh, I dunno, 'bout five minutes?). Pitter patter, pitter patter. See? Time to take my leave.

Wow-wee. The excitement has gripped me and taken hold. Excuse me while I burst into song 'twinkle, twinkle, little star'. Whoah, now I've got that out of my system I can continue.

No, it hadn't started raining yet. I was just joshing with you. Are you keeping up? Oh, I've just noticed a little counter counting all my wee letters. Bless it. Better not type too fast or it might lose count. Whoopseydaisy. Bet that one threw it off, chuckle chuckle.

Over and out.

Evening.

Just wanted to see what it looked like.