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Emma's Journal

Thursday, May 24, 2007

10:26PM - The ascension.

Looky here. I remembered my password.

My lachrymose glands have shrivelled up.

I didn't cry at my leavers' assembly, but didn't think much of that. I'm not that sorry to be going.

But then I read the Happy Prince just to check

& that didn't make me cry either. Which is unusual.

If you were interested, my life is pretty darn good ay tee em.

I found someone who is practically the same person as me. & even returns some sort of affection. It's good, that.

It's a boy too. Convention can breathe a sigh of relief. & my parents too.

Whatever they say, they were BLATANTLY worried about me...

Maybe I just don't feel like crying, y'know. Because right now I'm really quite happy with the way things are going.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

7:45PM - Moonlight and mopery.

Earlier tonight, I was upset. I haven't really been upset in a while, and I couldn't remember what it is that I do when I'm upset. We'll not mind why I was upset, for it really demeans the rest of my twee tale.

You are under no obligation to read on.Collapse )

Saturday, November 11, 2006


I apologise wholeheartedly, for I may have lured y'all into the (false) hope that I had slipped quietly away, then returned to shatter it in a rather disappointing way.

Perhaps it were better that I had remained in ElJay exile, for I fear I may have developed a taste for emo. Shame on me. I'd apologise, but I'm not even sorry. I'd paste screenshots of my last.fm, with MS Paint style 'wtf??'s inserted next to bands of dubious credibility, except I can't be arsed.

I fell off pony t'other day. Well, last week. I still hurt.

Since last time LJ & I chatted, I have developed a sense of inferiority. I tell everybody who will listen that 'Alex is better than me.'. Damnit, the boy is a better artist & fact dispenser than ever I was. I envy him, I really do. He has nicer cheekbones than me too. Some people...

Right now, life is good & fun & interesting. I am being simple, but I like it.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006


I'm still alive, and I've pretty much gotten over myself this time. But that's all by the by, because this gigantic spider with only two legs on one side and four on the other just powerwalked across my floor and I was like, whoa! But now it's gone, and I'm not sure where to. I would suggest that it is on my person somewhere, which would bother me most dreadfully. Especially because it looked about 2 inches long when it stretched itself. Anyhow, I'm scared to get off the chair.

Birthday didn't pass uneventfully. When I get a job, I'm going to work in an Italian restaurant and take the piss out of people. That's what fake Italian waiters do. It's not Meditteranean jollity, you're from South fucking Shields so start acting like it. GODuh. And several snakes in the grass decided to tell people it was my birthday, for the sake of free ice cream. I got hysterical though because the restaurant was really busy and dark and then there was just this damn sparkler that I tried to blow out and looked like such a spacker. Issued several well-deserved, spork-related death threats.

But I got a really swish new MP3 player. This one has a hard drive and video and everything. I'm scared of breaking it. :/

Wednesday, August 30, 2006


An Audience With SmarterChildCollapse )

Saturday, August 26, 2006


This morning, I woke up early, because I didn't go to sleep until late. I felt like last Christmas because I wanted to get up and vomit but couldn't really be bothered. So I lay there and flickered in and out of consciousness and something else for about an hour until my alarm went off. I only slept for 5 or 10 minutes at a time, then checked the clock and tried to get up, but couldn't bring myself to cheer up and stop wallowing in self-pity. I feel emo.

When I had to get up to turn my alarm off, I must have begun to feel nauseous almost immediately. I sort of staggered around not exactly knowing where or why I was doing it. I admit I wanted nothing more or less than pity, but I didn't get it. So I ate about 2.6 square centimetres of toast, which tasted like rubber and grease, then went in the shower.

Then I curled up in a corner and complained about how cold I was. Then my stomach started making horrible noises because it wanted more than 2.6 square centimetres of toast, so I ate a banana, which was horrible. I gagged and wretched because I couldn't be bothered to override the reflex and I thought it was appropriate anyhow.

So here I am, with my thermal fleeces, stomach ache and self-pity. I disgust myself.

Monday, August 21, 2006


I came back from Scotland a few days ago. I've been a little bit angry ever since. I'm losing my wits again. I tried to formulate a complex yet cogent riposte in response to an insult, and all I came out with was 'You dickweed.'. It was lame, and it made me feel lame.

Scotland wasn't as peaceful as it should have been, because Kip the dachshund puppy spent most of the time we had together chewing holes in my clothing and skin tissues. And the only time we went somewhere really tranquil I got bored and started hassling and heckling because I wanted to go home and we'd been at the fishery about three hours and nobody had caught anything, and I hate fishing and wouldn't join in, 'for ethical reasons'. Not really, but I had a number of other reasons. Primarily, I hate killing things, directly or whatever. I'm squeamish. I don't want to thread worms onto metal hooks, and I don't want to touch the fish. I don't want to be exposed to the elements, I took a holiday to get away from being outside in all weathers.

I got to do what I wanted to do for about half an hour, and made everybody else do it with me. Nobody else really liked second-hand bookshops though, so I was removed from it. I bought stuff, including a copy of 'Carry on, Jeeves' that's so old it doesn't know that PG Wodehouse is dead. It's 41 years old now.

Sunday, August 13, 2006


Today was a nice day. I got some vigourous exercise done. It involved shivering violently until i actually pulled muscles. I had no idea that this was possible. so I'm incubating some sort of disease now, let's bet. can't be bothered with caps anymore, that's too bad. i feel like I've been through a car-wash from the neck down. My upper torso feels like its been though a carwash. it hurts like hell.

tomorrow I'm going to scotland. i'm hurrying now because I need to pack and stuff.

Wednesday, August 9, 2006


The summer bores me so much I have to sit inside and argues with AI bots.

Emma argues the point with Smarterchild.Collapse )

There is a letter that says open it if you're gay though. It's like some stupid schoolyard joke. Like when some smart Alec used to tell you you were gay if you didn't do ten starjumps as quickly as you could. Naturally, as an already unpopular eight year old, being accused of homosexuality was not what you needed to reverse the ostracision process. Anyway, I have a picture of this letter. Unopened, naturally. It would take a special person to pull the sword from the stone in this one. Unfortunately, my camera is poorly, so I shall provide a transcript.

(red writing, bold)DO NOT OPEN (blue writing) unless you are male, female, black, white, old, young, smoker, non-smoker, straight, gay, rich, poor, blonde, brunette, short, tall, fat, thin, vegetarian, meat-eater, extrovert, introvert, lazy, energetic, right handed, left handed...

Of course, there's the complimentary pen, but I just can't get at it because I can't tick all the boxes. To me, it seems as if the Chosen One must be an androgynous schizophrenic ambidextrous bisexual middle-aged Asian on a middle income with black hair, of average height and stature, who is weaning themselves off smoking. Now I don't know anyone who fits that bill, so I guess I'll never know what mission Cancer Research had lined up for me.

Pity, that.

Friday, August 4, 2006


Today I feel like I need a holiday. A beach holiday would do well. Even though I hate beaches and sand and the heat and the sun and having to pack and having to travel and the way I always lose things, I feel like I need to leave the country, or at least the region. I'd really like to go to Berlin, but I have no money. Of course, travel is a state of mind, but so is senile dementia and you can't get rid of that when you're sick of it. It would be good if something exciting happened, because then I would forget about stupid horrid paintings and such. Wodehouse doesn't make me any less grumpy, painting made me angry in the first place, and exercise gave me a headache and made my mood drop to such a degree of foulness that I had to come and tell my livejournal about it. Happy music makes me angry and sad music makes me sad. Really, I need a slap in the face, which I have attempted to adminster. Anticipation ruins the surprise.

I also can't get my eyes to focus properly, which is unusual. Everytime I try to concentrate on things they start watering like crazy.

Also, gigsandtours won't come up with the goods, which is driving me slightly up the wall because I did ask them several months ago.

But I feel markedly chirpier for telling people who don't care about the imperfections of my life at present.

Saturday, July 29, 2006


I'm not arachnophobic. I don't really have any true phobias. But I did find no fewer than ten spiders in the bath tub. I was more bothered that it took me a long time to save them all. Well, nine of them. Number ten just pushed his goddamn luck.

All the same, ten spiders in one's bath is a portent precursor to ill fortune. I fear for my dignity. Barbecues are stressful events for me. I fear a lot of cheek pinching and taunting, because my extended family think it's ridiculous that I don't eat meat. I can't hide my habit at a barbecue, of all places. Phrases like 'weak veggie bones' do tend to get bandied about. I like it really. Gives me something to argue about.

Monday, July 24, 2006


The two halves of my little toe have decided, in the charming manner unique to toes, to kiss and make up. It's healing very well, although I'm still scared it'll split like a peanut. Because that's exactly what it reminds me of, you know.

Saved a bee today. Highlight of my day. I was pretty pished off when I put it on the windowsill after five minutes of coaxing it onto a piece of paper and it just didn't do anything. That made me angry with the world. But when I came back a few minutes later, it was gone. Probably got eaten by a bird or fell to its splattery death, but all the same. It made me feel better.

Most of the time I don't mind not having a best friend. It's only when it becomes obvious that I am the superfluous third wheel, the gooseberry, the hanger-on that I mind it. I don't want to stay in the North East all summer. What is the weather playing at here? Sun is bad. All it does is make disgustingly fat people wear less clothes, which isn't good news for anyone. I'd hate to be fat, because I would not be able to get rid of it. Because I am deeply averse to exercise. Years of middle aged lesbians for PE teachers has take a heavy toll on my mental and physical health. If they'd left me alone all those years, I don't doubt that my total energy expenditure would be much higher. I'm gaining weight again now, I rather think, and I shan't hesitate to pin the blame firmly into secondary education.

I wish, how I wish I lived in an air-conditioned box all year. I could come out in Spring, and Autumn too. I might come out at night too. Of course, it'd be boring, and I'd probably get quite fat quite fast. I should really find a purpose in life and/or Summer, instead of moaning about it. But I enjoy moaning so much. Could make a career of it. Could have an 'Opinions' column of my very own. Because I'd love to force my opinions on the masses. I don't mind people moaning, as long as they're witty with it.

I have taken all Summer can give me. I've had a good moan, and I've got a brilliant t-shirt tan. I split my toe down the middle because it's too hot for slippers. Now I want to hibernate.

Saturday, July 22, 2006


Had an eventful and painful few days. Yesterday morning I was in a hurry, being as late as I was. One altercation with a sellotape dispenser later, I had almost created a cloven sixth toe. So right now, I have gash over my left little toe (running from toenail sou' sou' east down length of digit), and although it's only a few millimetres deep and a few centimetres long, it's proportion we're talking about here, people. I tried to use it as an excuse not to dance at the party my mam organised, but I was a piss-soaked hanky at her Christmas party and probably nearly ruined that for her.

But this party was alright. The DJ was much less tetchy with me, and although he lied to me about Frank Sinatra, he played Blondie, which featured in a verbal contract binding me to dance. Danced voluntarily hereafter. I imagine I looked really stupid. The fact that I had sore hips the morning after suggests that it was bad dancing indeed. (Also, vegetarian option was far better. Last time the vegetarian option was just what everyone else was having, without the meat. It was like, fucking crackers and cheese, I tell you. Plus there were no drinks provided, innit. So yeh had teh pay through yer feckin' nose fer coke that tasted like liquid shite-rogen.)

So this morning, I was shuffling about the house like an old person. It must have looked pretty funny too. I was standing outside the bathroom griefing people as well, exactly like old people do, stressing the operative word far far more than is neccessary, even in a generous estimation.

Also found a hole in a rubber glove I was using. The fault was discovered when I noticed that the shite-water had seeped through the impermeable rubber onto my person. Well, although I may nearly pass out when I see my toe dripping fair amounts of blood on the floor, horse shit doesn't really bother me that much. Funny, that.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006


Today I have been coughing and sneezing rather a lot. This is an indicator that I am contagious and should be segregated, but not permitted to shirk assignments, so I get the granary floor sweepings of both worlds. I wish I got ill properly or not at all. Not at all would be good. But when I'm actually in physical pain I can't do things. And lying around in pajamas has a psychological effect on me anyway. Pajama days make me absolutely hate myself. I'm quite a lazy person sometimes, but I have my limits. Last time I was ill I vegetated and watched Pink Panther films because they remind me of my great-granddad. So does the Tall Ships' Race. So do model ships and badges on walking sticks. I miss him. I miss having someone around to explain to me how cricket is scored and who Inspector Cloiseau is looking for. I think I regret not seeing him before he died, and not going to his funeral. I was only 13 though. And I cried in my music lesson.

I don't think I thought of that at the time though. I was really just angry but too tired to take it out on anyone because I couldn't swallow so I wasn't eating. Basically just watched daytime TV and LJed, while I should have been doing the Christmas rounds and such. And grumped because sleeping was too hard and I drooled on my pillow once because I couldn't swallow or breathe through my nose. That's vulgar, I know. But I was ill enough not to care. I really really don't want to be bedbound this summer. I don't want to be ill at all, and I certainly don't want to lose my voice, which could be in the pipeline. Last time I lost my voice before the Christmas episode was the week preceding my Spanish Oral.

What I mean to say is I felt like this on Christmas morning, with regards to my nasal passages and such.

Of course, that's not all I have to complain about. Joe tried to explain the fundamentals of football to me. Needless to say, I don't understand. And I had several violent hiccuping fits, of the species that make themselves heard at funerals and such across the country, so we played 20 Questions, and I may possibly have called Joe illiterate for not guessing an eminent literary figure. I didn't mean it.

Sunday, July 9, 2006


Because you shouldnCollapse )

Don't read the above if you are pushed for time, or consider it unimportant. In short, don't read it. It's very boring. I had lots of other funny dreams, but it was inconsiderate enough of me to share the one, so I shall let you go without further mental scarring.

Decided I might be harbouring initial signs of hay fever or a cold. Rather hoping it is a cold, because flowers and trees in Spring are the only part of the year I like, and it would do nobody any good if I became allergic to them. I keep coughing and sneezing and I get dizzy and fall over if I stand up too fast, but I think this is just my inner pensioner having a laugh. And it makes me sleepy a lot of the time. I'm quite sleepy now.

Tuesday, July 4, 2006


In the way of excitement today, I nearly electrocuted myself. I kind of came-to whilst poking around in the back of a hairdryer with some (metal) tweezers. Of course, as a time-saving measure, I hadn't troubled myself to lean over and turn the mains switch off.

Of course, I can only pose a threat to my own life every so often if I expect to survive for a while longer, so that will be all the subconscious suicide for the time being.

Saturday, July 1, 2006


'Football hurt me.'

Okay, so I was walking up the road with an angry, hungry, fat, nervous horse. Then this car with those awful tacky horrid plastic flags cracking drove past very fast and scared the shit out of him. Scared horses panic, dammit. So, in conclusion, I got hurt and I'm wholeheartedly glad England are out of the world cup. No more tacky flags means less bodily harm. I never claimed to be altruistic. Today has been a good day. First, I dropped a loaded pallet onto a carpet, and it flipped over and landed the right way up. Then I witnessed the Cessation of the Awful Flags. I didn't want England to lose just so I could rib everyone else in the country. However, it happened, so, you know, I think I may well do so.

Monday, June 26, 2006


All of a tizzy. Today, by some form of magnetism, I have placed my foot squarely in it many a time. I don't feel like myself. I'm speaking before I think, which is what's been holding me back all these years. What comes out of my mouth is not a stream of carefully crafted witticisms, but a geyser of absolute arse-gravy. I'm quite offensive, actually, and it's not like acerbic wit, it's just annoying drivel. I can't hold my end in an argument now. Then I tried to explain why I didn't care about what Georgia thought Alex thought I thought Julie thought I thought. 'Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn' only gets one so far.

Tomorrow I will have calmed down, although I don't think I can apologise, because I'm not really sorry. A few hours of spontaneity and ultimately rudeness are as good as locking myself in a room for a few days. Of course, if I had a spare few days, I'd go for the room, but all the same. I don't have that long. I kind of can't wait for the languor of the summer to descend on me, and then no more shits will be forthcoming. Except I know I'll just spend all my time at the yard, and I'll be bored out of my wilting mind. I wish my life had more tedium about it, actually. Then, I might be more inclined to give a shit about things that matter to me, and things that are meaningful until proven worthless, and things that I have to give a shit about otherwise I'll get the shit knocked out of me. And I'd probably consent to be removed from the house of a night time.

I'm bored and cold. It feels like a Friday - somehow, Monday has the essence of Friday. Probably I have used up my impulse ration. Usually I don't feel piss-sick until Friday nights. But this is unmistakeably piss-sickness.

Saturday, June 24, 2006


If there's one thing I can't stand, it could well be excess. Seasonal excess is the worst of all. I like temperate climates, and today I got that. So I've been nice. It's odd. Jack asked me how I was, which was a deliberate needling, however my better self pushed the expletive back down my throat and responded civilly. I haven't been civil to Jack in a long time.

And, it transpires that we shan't be going to Scotland after all. Damnation. And me dar drove his motorbike into a car, so he hurt himself and his bike. The whole house stinks of Deep Heat.

Friday, June 23, 2006


I got my hair cut, on the day which must have been Tuesday. It's mostly the same. I didn't hate it immediately, but I did take a long detour, to avoid some intimidating youths, around what appeared initially to be a side-street, then started to look like a cul-de-sac, then turned out to be a side street after all, to my great relief.

The only real difference is that my fringe is now more of a fringe and less of a forelock. and I've had my feathers cut back in. Although they're higher, and not even. One side goes around my jawline, and the other hangs an inch or two lower. It doesn't look truly awful, and it happens because of my quintessentially asymmetrical hairstyle anyway. I need a side-fringe because I can't get my eyebrows right. I need to partially hide one at a time. Maybe, one day when I develop an eye for symmetry, I will be able to even them out, and maybe even re-centralise my parting.

And about all that I said about the world ending, I don't mean that. I think I meant it at the time, which is kinda scary. I was fairly ticked off about something or other. For the record, I'm still fairly convinced civilisation is breathing its last, but no-one else cares so I'd be a fool to feel any other way. I'm sure it'll pass over. I mean, can you remember when we were all going to die of avian 'flu? I can. One dead swan and the whole country goes hysterical. That's crazy.

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