feels like I've been weighteen forever!

Tomorrow I will finally be 18! ohh yes.

To be honest, it has flown by. Waves of excitement keep washing over me when I least expect it, for instance when I was making myself a brew I got the biggest bundle of butterflies, had to sit down. haaa. Excitement does strange things to me, it makes me want to exercise and eat well. I should get excited more often, as should everybody out, wipe out obesity in no time at all ;)

Childhood only feels like yesterday, but tomorrow it'll be lost forever. Hello adulthood, drinking,clubbing,driving,University ; RESPONSIBILITY :| Naaa. I cannot wait for what is to come. This world is my oyster and I am going to drink it dry!!

MMMMillie, MMMMollie, MMMMMandy.

Sounds like a list of the top three girls and even more popular ,dogs, names at the moment( minus the excess 'M's). Believe it or not this is the name of our family delicacie(in our eyes anyway). If you're the type of person who loves mixing their mash ,butter and beans together with a grating of cheese, then you will no doubt love a Millie,Mollie,Mandy.

 

Mash your baked or boiled potato, heat it up then chuck in your butter,cheese and milk then the tiniest dollop of Marmite.  I forgot to mention you may have to be partial to a little dollop of gag inducing Marmite from time to time. Nothing warms you up better on a frost February evening. I assure you.

football* crazy, football* mad.

*IS.

After watching Tony Jordans' cleverly conceived 'Hustle' with their main story revolving around the game, it reminded me how much I despise everything that it stands for.Don't get me wrong I think that putting politics to one side and focusing on a sport is great but it's the industry and more importantly the financial side that I really hate.



The fact that players such as Cesc Fabrigas (Arsenal) earn up to £4.5 million a year for kicking around a ball whereas the average firefighter and police officer who essentially save lives and prevent crime earn between £22,104 and £26,109 a year. Not to mention in LEDC's (less economically developed countries) £4.5 million that Fabrigas earns in one year would feed, accommodate and supply a family of five for a minimum of 20 years. When it's put into perspective like that , it really makes you realise whilst these footballers are off jetting around the world , being worshipped by generations of football fans and being lusted for by thousands of women, families are starving, praying for rain,food,shelter, praying for something.


It's those football fans that control everything though, they may claim to love the sport but even admit that the players salaries are ridiculous as are the ticket prices.They can act upon it though, the consumer are always in control, they supply the demand, the big companies just don't like to let them know that. If every single football fan got together and decided to not attend the next 10 big games, the industry would be forced to lower ticket prices and in turn lower the salaries of the players. I'm not denying that football brings people together and proves to be a great topic of conversation to be had down the pub with the local lads. Sometimes though, I feel that , that is the only reason some people follow the infernal game, just so they can talk about it. Then again isn't that what all of us do from time to time? Listen, watch or participate in something just so we can talk about it after?



If we look at the grand scale of things, take a giant step back. The football industry is the biggest in the world, if every player donated a quarter or if they're really generous ,half, of their salary then I am pretty sure we would be making leaps and bounds in eradicating poverty , not only in this country, but around the world. Maybe this is the hippie inside of me finally clawing it's way up from the bottom of my gut to my fingertips, but to me it just seems logical. Does anybody really need a salary that big? Surely after they've bought their fifth Porsche and second mansion they'd have some left over that they really won't use.


I'm probably only saying all of this because I know I won't ever earn that obscene and absurd amount of moula and it angers me. I'll be a skint scriptwriter for the rest of my days whilst footballs continue to drain the similarly skint football fans funds ,which will most likely be spent on strip clubs and gold plated phones. The public really do have the ultimate power, I just wish they would realise it.

wishing winter away.

In three weeks I'm 18. This year seems to be working out well, with an offer from Bournemouth under my belt,a driving certificate and an almost adult status I didn't think it could get any better but it really will.

I'm travelling Europe in the summer with 3 friends. I am beyond excited. At first I kind of assumed we'd talk about it alot, plan it even but it would never actually happen. I don't like to let my hopes get too high, my gran always said it's better to have low expectations, that way you're never dissapointed. Last week however we solidified our sweaty summer plans, we booked our flights to Amsterdam. It finally felt like it was really going to happen, since then we've managed to pull our socks up and turn our pockets out by booking our first two hostels ,return flight and even a ticket to 'soundwave croatia 2011' a music festival supposedly like the Croatian alternative of Big Chill, with the same amount of quality acts. That's all I think about when I go to sleep, skanking on a beach or even better on a boat. We're starting in Amsterdam in early july ,making our way to Croatia by the 20th, it sounds crazy, after 20 days on the road (well the tracks) going to a music festival, I'm sure we'd be pretty drained by then, not only our energy but our funds. Cash worries aside Interrailing 2011 seems to be shaping up to be a trip of a lifetime, lets hope my life doesn't peak that early though, ay.

may still be a briefcase wanker but at least I won't have to be a bus wanker for the rest of my life!

I passed my driving test, first time round, yesterday. Chuffed is not the word. When the examiner said I had passed I was awkwardly drinking and half-choked as cliche as it sounds, I was so surprised. I'm on my mums insurance but limitations are still there though, having to find the right time to take the car out, when it's convenient for everyone. Despite passing I don't think my parents trust me in their car, which is fair enough. It's funny 'cause I don't think I'll ever drive as much as I have done recently (a few hours everyday) ever again. I'd be content with that, I want to buy a bicycle and ride that. It's cheaper and healthier for both myself and the planet! Guaranteed if someone gave me the opportunity to have my own car I'd jump at the chance.

Scriptwriting,nail biting.

I'm contemplating getting this (picture above) as a tattoo as I'm approaching the age of consent. Yes as scary as it seems in a mere month I will be an official adult. I don't feel ready at all, the cravings are there to go out and buy alchohol and go to 18 films ,but I've realised I'll spend the rest of my life being a legal adult though, it'll probably only be fun for a few weeks.I'll have to change the name of my blog aswell, not quite sure what to.

I cannot wait for the summer  (I'm going travelling around Europe with some friends but I think that deserves a separate post) and I cannot wait for university! Anyway enough of wishing my life away.

To tattoo or not to tattoo, that is the question.

I'm someone who gets bored very easily and despite how much I like the idea and look of tattoos I'll most likely end up hating mine within a month or so. Another thing is the price. I want a tattoo to mean something. I suppose a typewriter means something to me, I want to be a scriptwriter. What if that goes tits up? or even worse I loose my passion to write? what then, I'll have a typewriter on my forearm for life.I suppose it's the little niggling doubts that ultimately decide for you. I think I'll give it a few years, find my feet ,friends and favourite things.

Mind Blowing.

meta from Jurriën Boogert on Vimeo.

I love Being Human.

I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the brief blur that was a 1000 years spent on Pluto and up Uranus with the rest of the pluranians it's just this planet feels like home.

Bloody awful attempt at a pun, apologies. If you've ever had the privilege of enduring more than 15 minutes with me, you'll know how often these terrible attempts at being funny crop up, I should just face it ; women aren't funny and never will be.

Anyway , crap jokes aside. BBC3 is back with one of my favourite series 'Being Human'.It's a show that I've actually watched from the word go , I must admit I'm usually a late comer to shows as I normally watch things other people advise me to, basically, I'm a big fat Baaing sheep. I'm not quiet sure whether it's Mitchells (Aidan Turner ) smoulderingly scary sexiness that hooks me and keeps reeling me in or if it's Georges (Russell Tovey) amazingly awkward character who often finds himself in hilarious situations.For example in last nights episode (SPOILER ALERT) he accidentally became a member of a dogging group in the near by forest . It's been described at Casper meets Buffy meets wolfman meets friends but I don't think that gives it half the credit it deserves.Yes the plot revolves around a vampire, a werewolf and a ghost but it's strangely realistic and human (probably the reason for the name as they are anything but 'being human'). My sister and I (both having strong interests in drama and scriptwriting) usually sit through television programmes just picking at the flaws in the acting and the writing but I can honestly say, every actor/actress is the epitamy of their character, no hiccups whatsoever , as of yet. The script is seamlessly written, making for an entertaining yet chilling show. If I'm already enjoying the third series this much, one episode in, I cannot wait for the rest.

It's not too late to catch up, well it never really will be with this infinite supply of 'catch up tv'- THERE IS NO EXCUSE! It's definitely worth a watch.

cause all we need is candle light.

I used to hate baths. When I was younger, they were just annoying things that we had to clamber into three times a week. Once I discovered dirt and the idea of hygiene the sheer thought of wading around in my own filth for an hour or two was enough to put off for almost 10 years.With exams and the vile thing known as 'responsibility' creeping in and contaminating my once care-free life it was time to turn to the tub. Baths are back though, and they are better than ever.

I discovered a way to combat my cringey complex, have a shower first. My baths are no ordinary baths (sounds so much like an M&S advert).I even found a way of making the dullest of baths look decent. Cover them in candles. I love candles.I frequently lace my room with vanilla scented tea lights and if I'm feeling really exotic I sometimes whack some apple scented ones to mix it up a bit.I wouldn't go as far as to say I'm a pyromaniac but it wouldn't surprise me if my death was related to fire in some way.

Summer is shower time, arguably because the last thing you want in the sweltering heat (if only that was a familiar case in this country) is a steamy bath. Winter however, is the prime time for beautiful bathing. I've even gone to the lengths of creating my own 'Bathtime Beauts.' playlist on Spotify, I'd love to be able to say that the reason I love baths and being in my bathroom in general is because I'm completely cut off from technology and its tight hold it has on the world, but I'd be lying. I always sneak my laptop into the bathroom (yes I'm aware of the risks that poses and the fact condensation can seriously cock up your computer) but there is no better way to really enjoy your music, it really is magical.

Another thing that is magical in the winter particularly is the steam. Lifting your lazy limbs out of the water to watch them catch the cold air and stream with steam is just mesmerising, to prevent this turning into one of those dodgy 'adult content' blogs and having to change all my settings I'll leave the steam talk there. All that is left to be said is, happy bathing.

Solitude is Bliss.

Not only is it a great name of a great song by the impeccable Tame Impala ,it is also the truth. Today more than ever I have craved time alone, my own space, my own home. I felt really rough this morning , probably due to sleep deprivation. Since I've stopped sucking my thumb ( about 2 weeks ago) I've been finding it really hard to A; get to sleep and B; stay asleep. I've never been a light sleeper but I guess without my thumb, and my main comfort I'm destined for a life of light slumber.

Anyway this morning I woke at the terrible time of 12pm , having taken the day off school , resulting in me probably missing about two lessons, I felt as if I had to do something productive and be a bit proactive just to avoid feeling like the worlds biggest failure. So I got up, tidied my room, did my coursework, set the dishwasher, set the clothes dryer etc.Even doing this post now is preventing me from feeling like the demotivated lounge lizard I've become. I like the feeling of being able to do things for myself.

I wouldn't say my dad is controlling but he likes things to be done correctly and in his eyes that means that he must do everything. It was weird though, when he came back from tennis, the oven was on (cooking some delectable sausages) and the dryer was spinning pretty loudly , I felt a sense of fear, I was honestly worried that he would find out I had put the dryer and the oven on. Which is completely ridiculous as I'm nearly an adult, but my dad has his way of doing things and I must be scared of disrupting his routine. Being the curious cat that he is, he noticed immediately "who's cooking" and "who's washing" have almost become his catchphrases. I hope one day we'll be able to do things for him, without him rigorously assessing everything we do, he may even let us cook the Christmas dinner one year, if he's feeling really wild, I doubt it though.

I just can't wait to be self sufficient, without having to look over my shoulder every 5 minutes to see whether my dad approves of what I'm doing. I'm saying this now but I guarantee once I go to University, or get my own place I'll be moaning within a week that the workload is too much. I have so many desires to just break free from the mundaity of everyday life. I have visions of myself doing completely uncouth things such as peeling all the labels of the tins in my cupboards just so I don't know what I'm getting every time, I'm sure I'll grow annoyed of going to make beans on toast and ending up with prunes on toast! Seriously though, I feel as if I need a shocking scenery change, some kind of change. I'd love to be able to relocate every month of my life, see what everywhere has to offer, be it a different town or a different country. I think we've all been sucked into societies view of practicality over pleasure I hear the words " it's not practical" far too often. This is just the hippie in me taking over, soon sense will seep in and my dreams will be dulled down by this depressing pace of life we're all to comfortable with.

If all goes to plan I'll be driving by the time I'm 18 (in a few weeks )and University is around the corner, hopefully they will both open a few more doors in which I can wander in and explore.

do talk to strangers.

F**k Ofsted!

What is the point in these 'suprise' inspections when everyone is well informed the day before and teachers hastily make lesson plans the night before them. I think it'd be a much better system if an Ofsted inspector worked undercover as a trainee teacher, yes that involves hours of prep and reams of lies but that's the only way they'd get a true feel for the real school life. Anyway the reason I'm spouting anger like there is no tomorrow is that I had a meeting with an Ofsted inspector today and bore witness to the most astounding arse licking I have ever seen. Fair enough, make the school look good in order for it to stay open and the teachers to have jobs and the general moral to be lifted but don't lie through your teeth. There wasn't even a teacher there to commend these pompous pupils for their efforts, a good half an hour in,I'd heard enough and made a negative point, which resulted in the entire table responding with " that's her personal opinion, no-one else feels this way", ridiculous. How can something ever improve if the problems are never highlighted and resolved?

Anyway, rant over, what it really made me think about was why we do these things, why do we conform? I'm not about to divulge in some  psychology based debate (as much as I'd love to) because it'd bore you to death. The worst thing about conformity and general public life is the silence. The silence in waiting rooms ,buses and the very very worst ; lifts. I visited London over the Xmas period and  it was when I was in a tube lift I realised just how much I hate silence. There we were 15 total strangers crammed into a sardine tin of a lift, not saying a single word, I bet if it had been 2am (after everyone had hit the clubs) there would be an array of converse, but nope there was nothing. I felt like screaming or doing something really unpredictable just to shake it up a bit.

I think the saying "Don't talk to strangers" has become all too literal, nobody seems to talk at all.They'll happily send hundreds of texts a day and 'tweet' on strangers status' but will barely ever   look a stranger in the eye.

 Have we completely lost our faith in the human race? We're all social animals,inquisitive and interested  and yet we allow hundreds of people to pass us by on a daily basis without even regarding them, questioning their motifs, or looking at them.  It's for this reason entirely that I'm going to make a pledge to be more friendly to people  in everyday life, I've gone on for far too long just looking at the ground or listening to my iPod, anything in order to avoid conversation and any form of contact. The funny thing is when someone is friendly, you treat them as if their an alien, for instance I went on a jog a few months ago with a friend and a man ran past us and said "good afternoon", instantaneously my friend and I looked at each other ,pulled a face then continued as if we'd just been approached by an extraterrestrial creature.It really saddens me that it's become the 'norm' to be introverted and isolated.

 I think we've all just become paranoid, who can blame us?The media bombard us with stories of rapists , paedophiles, mad gunmen on the rampage, and the very very worst people of all , women who put cats in bins. No wonder we've lost our faith in the kindness of strangers, we're terrified of strangers.

such sucking stupidity.

I'm not one to usually make New Years resolutions, I've seen far too many people make them then break them within a day. This year feels different though, I really am ready to tackle my worst habit (well at least I hope my worse!) sucking my thumb.

Okay so I haven't gone to such extreme lengths as that ^ but I am considering putting a plaster on my thumb, nothing tastes worse than a big fabric plaster.


Ever since my fifth birthday I can vividly remember saying to my 'Nanna' " when I'm six I will stop sucking my thumb because then I'll be a big girl" thirteen birthdays later, and look where I've come, absolutely nowhere. Actually I tell a lie, my sister and I both made a pledge to quit together about 4 years ago because the dentist was getting increasingly annoyed at our ever growing over bites, so we did it, it was surprisingly easy. I sound like a drug addict but I was 'clean' for about a year, that was until my sister and I were sat watching TV and she dared me to put my thumb in my mouth. Stupid, stupid, stupid me. Ever since that moment it's been glued to my gums again and now it feels almost impossible to stop. My sister remained clean and her teeth showed the improvements.One thumb is literally bigger than the other, all that constant sucking must've literally drained the fat of it. Now I'm the wonky smiled, big baby , freak show of a twin.

It sounds ridiculous doesn't it, being addicted to sucking a phalanges. That's what it is though, an addiction, not a nervous trait like biting your finger nails but an actual addiction that I crave. Admittedly it's not half a serious as smoking and the biological factors of nicotine addiction. After watching my brother take a drag of his cigarette after a two hour car journey I saw the relief in his face, posture, position everything and it truly reminded me of how I am after a driving lesson, going almost two hours without the comfort of my stumpy digit really gives me the jitters (or maybe it's just my near death experiences during the driving lessons) who knows.

Anyway I was 3 hours into the New Year and BAM it's snuck it's way into my oral cavity, sneaky stumpy thing. I don't even realise I'm doing it half the time, It takes someone to point it out ( usually with the typical 'awww') for me to realise and adjust ,I'm eighteen in a few months for Christ sakes, I've had enough 'awww's to last me a lifetime.

That's my main point, what better way to wave bye bye to my childhood than waving bye bye to my thumb (if that is even possible?)So lets see how long it last. I've tried and failed so many times.

Tv triumphs of two thousand and ten.

Howard Overmans' 'Misfits'.(E4)
Stupidly sci-fi yet really realistic. It just keeps getting better and better as the second series concluded, absolutley flawless.Rumours say the 'Asbo five' will be back for a third series next Autumn. If you are yet to be totally transformed by the show, catch up in time for the new series.

Kay Mellors' 'A Passionate Woman'.(BBC)
Based on a true story of the trials and tribulations of Kay Mellors mother and her affair and the significant impact it's had on her mature life ,this drama was completely mesmerising as was the lead male character Craze (played by Theo James).

Jimmy Mcgoverns' 'Accused'.  (BBC)
After adoring Jimmy's drama 'The street' for a while I thought it would be impossible to create something as nearly as enthralling but 'Accused' blew it out of the water. Each episode of the 6 part series was independent which made for a unique  fresh feel every week. Truly sublime.

Mick Fords' 'Single Father'. (ITV)
Being a huge fan of David Tennant but not such a great fan of his latest  feats (Doctor Who) I was really exciting about seeing him in a serious role. He did not disappoint. For the first time I bawled over the first episode of the 4 part drama. Mick Fords writing was great but the real beauty came from the improvised dialogue of the children featured, really magical moments.

Rob Brydon and Steve Coogans' 'The Trip' (BBC)
I hadn't really been interested in Steve Coogan or Rob Brydon up until this point, I suppose I never really gave them a chance to impress me. Being a natural human and a natural sheep it took a couple of friends to mention the series and within hours I found myself on iplayer wanting to get in on all the goss. It made me cry, really, seriously cry with laughter. I guarantee everyone would find their improvised banter entertaining.

Nigel Slaters 'Toast' (BBC1)
This one pulled it out of the bag one day before the New Year. Really captivating stuff, makes me wish I was born in the 60s just so I could wear those knitted jumpers all the time and appear normal. It was heart wrenchingly sad yet whole heartedly humorous.If you missed it, I highly recommend you watching it on iplayer or catching it on ; Tue 4 Jan 2011 ,22:30, BBC HD.

Silent night, Holy Skype.

This Christmas was the first ever Christmas that my sister and I slept past 8am . We woke at a gasp inducing 10:30am which would have been unheard of a few years ago. I remember so clearly at getting genuinely agitated and annoyed that my older brother had slept a moment past 9am and forcing him out of bed, accusing him of wasting a precious hour of Christmas. It just goes to show what getting older does to you I suppose, I would never have dreamed of sleeping past 9am if my Grandmother would've been with us this year but she is with her sister (my great aunt) .The hours have slowly creeped up and the Christmas spirit has hastily seeped out! For the first time ever there was no excitement, not one tiny butterflies flutter in my stomach, not one ounce of spark in my weary eyes. I dread to think of myself as this shallow but it may have purely been down to the fact that I knew every single gift with my name on it under the withering tree, but like I said I'd hate to think of myself as that shallow so I'll settle with my excuse being a combination of the absence of any family elders and generally growing up.

Once the gathering of gift giving was over time ticked by tediously, we received a few phone calls from family dotted about the country but even they sounded less cheery than usual. The only thing we did which was remotely like a ritual was the Christmas lunch, everything else seemed very half-hearted, unplanned almost. Well my Mum did say to me that morning " what shall we do then" it was the first time I realised that our input was actually valued , we normally just follow the routine, but with no guests there was no routine. I was so thankful when my sister set up Skype on her laptop. I sound sad but let me explain. My Mums brother moved to Australia about 30 years ago and he has only seen us twice since we've graced this planet. If the time difference isn't tricky enough,my mum and uncle are both deaf aswell which doesn't help a great deal when it comes to keeping in touch, a simple phone call could take upto twice as long going through Typetalk, especially on Christmas day.

For the first time in 8 years we were able to see my uncle and he was able to see us. The last time he saw us in the flesh was when we were 10 years old and now we're nearly 18 so I think you could say we changed in the most drastic way you ever do in your life(I'm surprised that he didn't mistake me for my brother, with my new short barnett!).Astonishingly he was able to distinguish between my sister and I , as if he'd seen us everyday for the past year. My mum and uncle we able to sign to each other and the webcam managed to pick it up well, normally there are all sorts of problems with the difference in bandwidth and the quality of the video, but no this was perfect. We all gathered around the laptop like you see on those infernal adverts, but it's just like that, I wanted to cry. Although we were thousands and thousands of miles away, we'd never felt so close. It's moments like this where I push my hang ups about technology to one side and truly embrace the wanders it can do, my main question was why didn't we do it before? but it was Christmas day and I certainly won't be forgetting that first Skype experience anytime soon.

Warning: some photo viewers may find the content of this post offensive.

''Don't forget to bring the camera'' is a far too familiar phrase I'm hearing in this camera crazy sub-culture of snap happy teens. It suddenly hit me like a giant snow ball to the face when I went for a jog in this foggy weather. I was happily jogging along when I noticed a perfect photo opportunity .One of those rare moments in the evening when the sky blends into a multitude of colour and the contrast of the beaming white blanket of snow catches all the colour. There was only one issue;  I hadn't robbed my sisters camera so couldn't get the snap. It was at that moment that I realised I have been completely and utterly sucked into this new camera craze,It wasn't that I wanted to email the picture to my family in Australia whose skyline couldn't look anymore different at the moment, the saddest thing is, I just wanted to whack it on Facebook. I've always enjoyed taking photos but with Facebook and other social networking sites we have the ability to showcase our photos more than ever (whether people really take an interest in them or not) and it appears that everyone has suddenly taken a huge interest in photography. With albums named 'seasons may change' bursting with scenic snaps it seems that everyone has access to the top cameras and everyone is learning to take some top quality pictures. But does this mean the death of the photographer? If more cameras and photography courses are available to everyone surely there will be no need for professional photographers?

With the birth and growth of digital cameras in the last decade it seems all that photos have become is a click on a computer screen. My dad got out all of his photos a few weeks ago there were only about 50 or so of his entire childhood, teenage years and the  majority of his adulthood. Each photo however told a story and required reams of background context in order to be explained fully, each photo meant a great deal to him, they were tangible, not in the greatest of conditions but they were rustic and resonated with me. We shouldn't be creating opportunities in order to take great photos we should take photos at great one off opportunities.People refer to photos as opposed to memories these days, it's so sad that every angle of every event is captured, leaving no mystery, nothing to the imagination at all. It's as if ,if your not in any photos, you were never there yet everyone who wasn't at the party gets a great feel for it as every minor moment is captured.People have become so concerned with how much fun it looked, rather than actually having a good night. Their enjoyment has made a transition from their night, to how people view it.The worst is when people pull faces to make it look like their having the best night of their lives(I probably do this all the time)when in reality they've probably been staring at the tv in some desperate hope of escape for a good twenty minutes prior to the flash.


It gets under my skin so much because deep down I know I'm one of those aggravating people who commits all of these things. I just wish we could revert , go back to a time without a flash at every party, go back to those spontaneous evenings when there is no evidence of every single situation of every 'funny' moment.Yes photos are great and I'm really glad I took so many when I was younger as they prove very entertaining to look back on from time to time but this constant bombardment of boozey bad photos will only leave people feeling bloated and bemused. Things need to change, I'm going to try and not have a camera at every opportunity and act like a spy.

I've been SnOw lazy recently.

My school has just broken up for the Christmas holidays, but I honestly don't feel like I deserve them at all. This has been by far my laziest school term ever I don't know whether the weather has played a big part in it or I've just lost my drive.It's annoying because this is meant to be the most pivotal year of my life, the year that potentially effects and shapes the whole framework of my entire life.I've just grown lazy I guess.

I've not just been lazy with school work but in everything. I can't remember the last time I had a good work out, must've been months ago.So I got up this morning with my good old friend I haven't seen in a while; motivation.I did a good hour of Pilate's accompanied with some Bloc Party and Regina Spekktor and had a huge bowl of porridge.Things are getting back on track. (We'll see how long this lasts, I'll give myself until the end of the day)

The only good thing about this persistent snow is the opportunity to get some good snaps;

It looks as if we're going to be snowed in at the moment.Being meticulously prepared; my mothers just gone out to stock up on all the neccessities which should see us through the snow storm brewing outside. I don't know if I'm over joyed at the sight of the white stuff or a little bit annoyed. I'm too young to be playing scrooge!

It's not just the fact I hate the tentative treading on the ice, it's actually because it has the potential to prevent alot of fun and in an extreme case my sisters future career.We're meant to be dog sitting for my friend who is going away to Tenerief for 2 weeks over Xmas but their flight has been delayed due to the ice and generally bleak weather.My sister is due to be doing an audition for her favourite prestigious drama school on Monday but it looks as if it may be cancelled which is really annoying as she's been driving me crazy with her preparations for weeks , from helping her with her monologues to agonisingly hearing her sing the same song over and over and over again.It'd be gutting for all of us if she missed it.

Anyway I'm getting far too negative, I'm yet to write the family newsletter which is just a excuse to boast and brag to everyone about your families acheivements, or in my familys friends cases list all of the operations you've had in the year!. I still have the daunting prospect of wrapping my christmas presents and writing my annual Xmas messages.So that should keep me busy for all of 3 hours. Have fun in the snow, because I certainly won't be.

Another weekend, another gig.

It feels like I haven't written for ages. It annoys me, it's not that I want to write, it's that I have to, I do enjoy it though.

Having gone over my phone bill by £45 and returning home to a less-than-happy daddy I was shocked to discover I still had enough money to see Bonobo at the weekend. After seeing him (Simon Green) for the first time at The Big Chill festival earlier this year and immediately downloading his most recent album as soon as I got home, I haven't stopped listening to his stuff, especially his collaborations with Andreya Triana; they are really beautiful.

It was all a bit last minute, whilst my friends and I sat in a local pub/bar on Friday we decided that we all actually had enough money to go (as that was the issue when we first discovered the gig was on)The next morning I luckily managed to get three tickets and before we knew it we were in the surprisingly short que getting all giddy and agitated like toddlers outside a toyshop (or more like a 'gaming' shop these days). Anyway, despite it being a Sunday and being extremely tired it was one of the most influential gigs I have been to; I've never appreciated live music so much ,probably because I could actually see the artists (which is a rarity as I'm pretty short)and we managed to blag roomy standing positions at the front. I felt so happy through the entire set (even including the support act, which I normally despise) a personal highlight was terrapin; enjoy.

Any Human Heart ; captivated my whole heart, and head.

The last thing I want to turn into is a TV critic. Don't get me wrong I would love to do that as a career, you'd get to watch endless reams of TV and the pay cheque isn't too bad either; it's just not what I want to be constantly talking about, believe me once I start talking about TV , I won't stop.

Any Human Heart is a four part drama that has graced our screens for the past three weeks, there is only one episode left and I couldn't be more gutted. In a way I much prefer 4-part dramas or even 6 part series (in the case of Channel 4's Misfits) as I feel they leave a deeper imprint. It's like when you're living with someone everyday, you don't remember all the little events, who washed up, who walked the dog,  what was discussed over tea and even what you had for tea. To me soaps like Eastenders remind me of the monotony of everyday life , the familiar characters which always react in the same way. Whereas spontaneous holidays with the family remind me of the short excursions you take with short dramas, they are more intense, therefore make for more memorable occasions.

Anyway I'm straying as per usual, all I wanted to do was express how much this drama has effected me and warped my thinking. Any human would and should be effected in the same way. The series follows the life of Logan Mountstuart, a writer who suffered a head trauma which led him to loose his memory. It shows him revisiting his painful but certainly not plain past through stacks of diaries and memorabilia. His signature phrase is "Life is just all the good luck you have and all the bad luck you have, nothing else" and he certainly has his fair share of bad luck and a handful of women along the way (including his dead sons 16 year old girlfriend!)

What the series has really put into perspective is that life isn't about who lives and who dies it is about how we combat and adapt to change, be it the death of your wife and child or the success of your novel. In order to remain sane you must remain grounded (easier said than done) by constantly reminding yourself of the good luck you've had, it dilutes the bad luck which people often mull over for longer, extensive periods of time. It made me realise how fortunate I am, how fortunate we all are. Yes we spend most of our time with our hands glued to touch pads and keyboards and our ears glued to headphones but we are connected. I've ranted about how I hate the world domination that is Facebook but I haven't really stopped and taken a step back. This world is phenomenal, yes there may be a war or two now and then, and morals may appear to be old fashioned but we have such a vast access to information, to people and most importantly adverse opinions.

The more we read, the more we learn. I'm going to try and change my once bleak outlook and life and the future, I need to realise that you really do only live once. I used to think life was all about experiencing things just so you could boast and brag about it to your children, but when zoning out whilst my dad wittered away about his childhood I realised; its wasted. You should do things to get the most out of every situation, not to report back in 40 years time for it to fall onto deaf ears.

There are far too many regimented paths in this world in which I've been happily tottering down, unaware of the truth that you don't really have to follow any path because 'now' is an intangible event , everything we are and ever have been; is the past. Live for now and don't dwell on what could have been,look forward, to what will be.

Winter Fonderland.

It only felt like yesterday when a huge group of us were shading ourselves at Sutton park in a last ditch attempt to heal our sun burnt shoulders. The summer flew by as did Autumn, Winter is well and truly here, and he doesn't seem to be easing us in gradually either. It wasn't until 5pm that I realised how thick the snow had fallen. With all this coursework, I just must have become oblivious. I hate letting things pass me by. I love winter. Not just because it is acceptable to wear boots and hats at school or not because we get to gorge ourselves with mince pies and mulled wine (although that is a factor) it is because it brings us all together,well it used to.

Despite the reoccurring depressing prospect you face every morning; hurling yourself out of your warm cocoon of a bed and onto the dark cold ice rink that is your wooden floor, there is nothing more beautiful then reaching up and peering out of your blinds or curtains to be greeted with a blanket of snow. It's ironic I chose the word blanket, as you often associate that word with warmth and comfort and snow in reality couldn't be further from those descriptions. When we were little my sister and I would refuse to allow our brother to play in the snow whilst it was snowing in fear that it would stop. We would literally barricade the doors, scream, do anything in order to keep him away from the crisp layer of heaven that awaited us outside. Looking back, it was a little irrational to say the least.


 Last years snow seemed so much more innocent, I suppose we all seemed so much more innocent. It's depressing that we have come to an age where Christmas has become just another day of the year. I distinctly remember being about 5 years old and unwrapping a huge toy castle, and reading the tag " To Jo, Merry Xmas Love Father Xmas", By this age I had already learnt to distinguish between my parents hand writing and this was most definitely my fathers. One year I was sleeping on my sisters floor ( we always share a room at Xmas) and my dads cover was well and truly blown when he stood on my stomach whilst trying to fill our stockings.

My twin sister and I used to apply so many layers of clothing that we could barely walk let alone frolic in the snow, warmth was essential.We would then run to the top of our road where our best friend lived and coax him out of bed (usually by throwing snowballs off his window) to join us. We would spend hours, making snowmen and giant snowballs that eventually transformed into solid ice boulders that would break your back if you attempted to move them. Then one day, our best friend moved.

 Anyway once the excruciating awakening is out of the way, it's time to play. Well it usually is, except this year I haven't actually found time to clamber into my 'snow gear' and get to grips the the sloppy stuff. Plus the fact that I have no-one to actually enjoy it with. It's odd how something is completely different when experienced alone. If you were alone and saw the most breath taking view, or sight, how could you ever rehearse and remember it if there is no-one to share the memory with. So yes, boo hoo me. My sister is working late at college and the only person , well in this case, thing that is willing to share the shriek evoking stuff with me is my dog ; Millie. She adores the snow, it certainly makes dog walking alot easier not only because she makes a pretty mean husky dog (despite being a collie cross) and my wellies make pretty nifty ski's but mainly because it means I don't have to carry around a soggy, stinky tennis ball to throw about for her. There are mounds of potential balls to be made, the best thing is I can reuse and recycle and if I haven't made the point that I'm an Eco-freak clear enough I will reinstate it.

I AM AN ECO FREAK.

Anyway, the dog is growling and the snow is melting. On winter nights I normally avoid walking all the way to the park but since the snow reflects the lights, it's as if I am walking in daylight and I need a long walk. A warm mince pie and ice cream is enough of an incentive to get me back home in under half an hour.

ciao.

The not-so-German Market

Last night a group of us went to the Birmingham Christmas Market. But instead of buying any German delicacies we decided to head to symphony hall and grab a cuppa. We were going to go to a jazz club but the 'legal' and 'illegal' divide began. The underage didn't fancy risking it and conjured up plan B. If we don't get in, we'll buy some sweets. ha. We sounded like such toddlers, whilst everyone else was drinking, we'd be getting hyper off e-numbers!

We didn't even try in the end and decided to go for a little winter wander down the canals, we took a few snaps along the way;

A few 'I don'ts' I won't stick to.

I don't want to get married.

I don't consider myself to be a feminist but I also don't consider myself to be the dependent type.I would like to find somebody that loves me an equal amount yada yada yada and all that mushy stuff, but in my eyes, marriage just puts out the fire. I would much rather have a passionate, unpredictable relationship with somebody than a marriage in which daily routines iron out any chance of spontaneity and schedules,plans, and meetings kill the romance. I'm probably a bit of a romantic, I want everything to be spontaneous , unplanned and unique. Marriage will probably become old fashioned , divorce rates are going through the roof. I never , ever want to come into contact with that wad of worry,  who does? I'd like to think of myself as adventurous, but when it comes down to it, I'm probably just scared, I don't want to get burnt.

I don't want kids.

I've never been great with children, I just can't bring myself to heighten my voice to such an extent that a baby will respond with a frothy gargle. Saying that, contradicting myself (something I often do) I still find it easy to crawl towards my dog and talk to her as if she were a child, somethings obviously a little flawed in my logic. Then again, dogs don't acquire language, they don't grow into a bogey covered, screaming children that answer back or ask 'why?' a ridiculous amount of times. I'm a firm believer that children should be treated like adults, not in the sense that they can drink and smoke but I mean in conversation. Another reason I don't want children is that slight chance that you invest your life savings, your time and most importantly your love into this child and then at the age of 16 they turn around and tell you to 'f**k off'. There is nothing to stop them doing so. Imagine, that cute curly haired toddler grows into an antisocial, addicted, attention seeker? It is just not worth the risk.

I don't want to drive.

I've always prided myself on being a little Eco-warrior and I never in a million years ever envisaged me driving. I had this warped idea that I would be using public transport for the rest of my days. That was until I  got on the 33 . ha. On a serious note though, peer pressure and practicality got the best of me and there I was on my 17th birthday , a bag of nerves behind the wheel. I've been learning to drive for almost a year and just the thought of the about of carbon emissions I've churned out alone makes me feel ill. I still stand by my fundamental thought; that I want to live somewhere where I don't need to drive, or get a bus , or a train for that matter. I want to live in a remote place that has everything ,that's self-contained . I want to ride my bicycle (refrain from bursting into song) everywhere. You could call it sad, but everyone has their own little way in which they want their life to be.
 
I don't want to live in England.
 
Whenever I try to imagine my future, where I'll be, England just doesn't seem to fit into the equation. Funnily enough I see myself in New Zealand, not that I've ever been there or even know a great deal about the place. Images of riding down long winding roads deeply embedded in the countryside, surround by vast green constantly pervade into everday life, it's my idea of heaven. The slight problem is that If I really want to be a script writer, and really want to be successful I will need to be based in London, the media hub. Part of me thinks, no I've been given so many opportunities because I live in England. Seems like I've talked myself out of my own opinion.All I know is that the city is not for me.
 
I don't want lots of possessions.
 
After reading an article a couple of weeks ago about minimalism it has really being playing on my mind. It wasn't until I moved rooms( in my house) that I realised I wasn't aware I owned half the stuff I did. This lead me to the conclusion that, If I didn't remember I had it, then why do I need it? The logical thing then was to chuck it all out, but the is a little hoarder deeply intertwined with my soul that just wouldn't allow it. Another thing is that my twin sister always borrows my things, and I couldn't care less, I spend loads of money on boots, I love boots and you'd think that when I caught her wearing my newest pair I would have gone mad, but nothing urged me, no anger, nothing. I went to a clothes swap at my Mums friends house, it was the best thing I've done in ages, If everyone did the same, we'd never need to buy clothes ever again.My iPod hasn't been charged in weeks, I don't need it. I send about 3 texts a day, that is less than my 68 year old father! I would love to travel, anywhere, just to see if I could survive with a bag of my things, so I could come back and just donate all my things to charity or friends.
 
 
So I want to ;
                    Live  in NZ, ride my bike, write my scripts and avoid screaming children at all costs.

"get my jacket off!" "get my face off!"

By request I've decided to give you an insight into the world of 'Twindom'.



She found the camera straight away,typical.



We're non-identical twins (although we look shockingly similar) and yes we have our little tiffs (usually revolving around clothes)but they're normally outweighed by moments when we both feel that there is no-one in the world we could trust more ,but is this usual to sisters ,what makes a twin relationship different? Well here is all you need to know about 'her' and I.

I think being a twin really helps your memory, we'll always reminisce which refreshes and revises, essentially solidifying our memories. I'm not too sure how I'll cope alone with remembering and I'm sure she'll feel as if I've been biased if she gets a chance to read this. I'll try to be as neutral as possible.

Glancing over photos of when I was a lot younger there is a distinct case of ‘double-act’ syndrome (when one twin is messy and the other is tidy), in every single photo I flick through; I’m there looking as if I’ve just been dragged through a bush and she's sitting there with an angelic smile and beautifully combed hair lapping up all the ‘aww’s’!

She was always a fan of the camera,(right)little poser.



I vaguely remember fighting, I think with us being twin girls we felt as if we were best friends, we thrived off the attention we got when we went out with our mother and father, We both knew people were starring so we tried to look and act as cute as possible .We did fight our brother Ben however (who is 3 years older) at any given opportunity, it would usually take place in the back of the car (not really the safest of places!). The fights would usually consist of 'her' and I giggling and irritating my brother enough to give us each a dead leg each (at the same time- it's quite a skill he mastered). We found it hilarious that we could always wind our brother up, some days we even made it our soul aim. Those were the days when we had nothing else to do but watch cartoons and go on CD-rom games like ‘rugrats’ or ‘pingu’ so we had to find a better source of entertainment ; bullying our big brother.(those were the days when I didn't have a blog to help me procrastinate).



we look pretty alike here, ignore the awful 'do's



I only have two distinct memories of jealousy (pre-teens) the first reason was when my mother would say goodnight to us, she would come into our room and hug both of us, but we would find competition in the tiniest of places.'her' hug may have been a milli-second longer or a bit tighter than mine which resulted in my mother spending up to 15 minutes saying goodnight .Every night, until we were content we had squeezed an equal amount of love out of her.

The second reason was that she would win everything, and I mean everything.Whether it was a CBBC competition or a local drawing competition she would win. I think my mum and dad did try to compensate for my total lack of creativity by making her share her prizes with me. To be honest I wasn’t too dismayed, I was happy because I saw us as a unit, if she won technically I won because I would get something as well. There was also the boy predicament .We couldn’t have a boyfriend during primary school as they would always fancy the other twin an equal amount, so we would both go to our boyfriend’s house and they would come to ours(we thought it was normal to share boyfriends!)

Our parents insisted that we wore different clothes when we were babies. Once we became aware of clothes we didn't want to wear the same things anyway, individuality didn’t even cross our minds throughout primary school, we had the same friends and it didn’t seem to be a problem. When you are a twin you just see each other as friends, sometimes you even forget that you are twins. A great example of this is when we were about 11 we saw a pair of twins walking down the street wearing the exact same thing , exact same hair , everything was identical even down to the tiny detail of hair clip,  this was alien to us and we just thought it was completely peculiar.

She's on the right, again.



I think twins(like everything in life) can swing two ways , they will either try to be completely different in a ditch attempt to find themselves and become individual ,or they will play up to the stereotype of identical twins and wear and act exactly the same. We've gone there, at one point in year 8 (age 13) I tried to completely detach myself from her, I had a new best friend, a new set of friends and altogether and a new image. I was what you would call ‘an emo’ and she was what you would call ‘a chav’ we had different tastes in music and boys, but wern't ourselves .

Eventually over time we merged, both our music taste, taste in men and clothe styles ; which have practically intertwined. Which in a way is handy as we end up having twice as many clothes!

On a serious note though, having a twin is almost like having a 'soul mate' ( if you believe in them). I laid in my bed last night and scared myself .I let the 'what if she died' thought cross my mind and instantly started welling up, I buried the thought and went to sleep. I don't know what I'd do without her, who would I tell, everything (I really mean everything) to?

Schoolwork is one big competition to us, I think that contributes to how well we did at school, because we always strive to beat each other, I think that would be a great way to boost grades, match each pupil with another pupil with equal ability and create competition between them, I’m only kidding. Seriously, we are lucky though, as you hear stories about twins where ones clever and the others not, which coincidentally creates a huge rift. In our case we were practically equal in every subject ,however, I tend to be better at sporty things and she tends to be better at creative things.

University is the next big challenge for us, will we keep in regular contact? Will we thrive off the separation and new found friends?

Briefcase Wa***er!

This is my 17th ever post and I'm 17 so I kind of wanted to sum my life up in 17 concise points (like that's ever going to happen) I waffle so much.

So where to start;

I am a twin.

I enjoy walking,running,swimming and generally being outdoors.

I used to run for the West Midlands.

I've done drama from the age of 9.

I lived in a little village in Yorkshire til I was 6 years old then I moved to Birmingham.

I've completed NVQ Level 3 in BSL (British Sign Language) and have been learning it since I was 11.

I'm commonly referred to as the 'Breifcase Wa**er!'( usually by the minions)

I like a good bargain, you'll often find me mooching around charity shops and car boot sales.

I'm a qualified open water diver (BSAC) and have dived in Europe and Egypt.

I have stupidly short hair and have to wear a suit and look like a right bloke.

I was once a member of the British gymnastics team (Under 10's) pahaha.

I was an extra in The Golden Compass (2003)

I've met Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig (had to do a bit of name dropping didn't I)

I've had two poems published, I love a bit of the tree of Po.

I'm currently learning to drive, after 9 months I feel as if I'm finally getting somewhere.

I want to go to Bournemouth University to read 'Scriptwriting for Tv and Film'.

I want to complete NVQ Level 4 in BSL then train as an Interpreter.



done.