Sunday, 19 December 2010

In my last post I commented on my love of snow. Now I am here to express my dislike of the very same substance. Or rather, my temporary dislike for it. It's hard to stay annoyed at it for long seeing as it cannot retaliate and the fact that it does look so pretty, and even more so close to christmas. This, however is an open letter to snow:

Dear Snow,

You are so pretty, so beautiful, so soft. You are just the right amount of cold and wet for you to be fun to run around and play in, but you do cause so much disruption. As an avid fan of yours I am highly disappointed with your timing. To be frank I don't think it is fair to cause pain to so many wonderful people who need to showcase their talents in the form of annual Christmas concerts. Due to your less than perfect timing all three of my planned Christmas concerts have been cancelled leading to day full of nothing to do and immediate boredom and lost time. These are things that I look forward to, Snow and seeing as these concerts were the last of their kind for me I feel that I can be rightly upset. Now, you better hurry up and leave so I can go to Denmark. If you do not comply, there will be serious consequences which include me hating you forever. If you do let off, then I will slowly begin to love you again, though it will take time.



Friday, 3 December 2010


Monday I wished and wished for snow. I didn't want to go to school, and sure enough the snow came. I was going to go to school, but I couldn't get there and back, so I decided not to and much to my delight at 11am the school was declared closed. We all thought that Tuesday we would be back at school, the snow was a thaw and I could already see it was melting. I was constantly checking BBC weather which claimed that the snow would be heavy all of Tuesday night and the following day. It sure delivered. I woke up to so much snow. More than I have ever seen before. Immediate happiness. Snow is just a rarity here. Most people like it despite the interruptions. It makes everything so beautiful and I suppose it takes people back to times when they were younger and celebrated the first snow fall in exactly the same way as they do now. Yes, it is disruptive and after a while it does become incredibly annoying, but you can't help but love it for a while. Everything is brighter and all the ugly features are hidden, it's fun and exciting especially when it comes up to your knees.

Saturday, 20 November 2010

The tale of the three brothers

I loved Ron and Hermione throughout the whole of Deathly Hallows.
I've noticed that most of the parts that I wanted the film to keep all had Ron in them:
Ron and his constant whispering of magical words to the radio and finally getting the right password. I just find this part so happy and funny in the midst of so much destruction and insecurity.
Harry and Ron talking when he comes back and he is explaining about the deluminator saying that Dumbledore must have always known he would have walked out, but then Harry turning around and saying 'no, he must have always known he would want to come back.' - such a heartwarming, guy love moment.
Ron's birthday present to Harry: 'How to charm witches' and then trying it out on Hermione.
Hermione getting really angry at Ron when he comes back and Harry casting the 'protago' spell between them.
Luna's room with all the painting of Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione, all connected with ribbons spelling out 'friends'
Xenophilius Lovegood's crumplehornsnack exploding.
Ron going insane in the cellar of Malfoy Manor whilst Hermione is upstairs
The invisibility cloak in Godric's Hollow

Despite this, I loved the film and I suppose those bits are just things that stuck in my mind from the book, and I suppose everyone has small, almost insignificant elements from the book that they love contrary to their importance. I am actually so happy that most of the parts that I loved from the book stayed.

Saturday, 13 November 2010

I have never been as stressed as I am now. Everything keeps mounting into this impossible mountain that not even the best mountaineer can maneuver efficiently. Whenever I'm out and about I forget about it, but then I come home and there is a massive weight which comes with stepping into the house, a consent pressure on me. I can't just sit and do nothing anymore, every moment has to be filled and cannot be wasted. I want to slow down, to stop and sit and just stare out of a window. I can't help but think that all my anxiety and sadness is just selfish and self-involved. I want to keep myself closed off, yet I want people to pity me. I don't know how I feel. I just feel like I am under an enormous amount of pressure, not just by my parents, but also by myself. I try telling myself that if I don't end up at my dream university it is because I am not suited to that environment and in truth I know I'll be happy where ever I end up. Yet still I feel so disheartened and deflated about everything. Constantly in the shadows in my own small home.

Sunday, 31 October 2010

No returns

So I was listening to the radio in the car the other day. Apparently NASA are planning a one way trip to Mars. With a maximum of 4 people. Who would go? Why would they go? How would they decide to go? How would they tell their friends and family they were going to go?

And what if they didn't like it.

Saturday, 23 October 2010

For yourself

Tuesday I went to see Joshua Radin with a bunch of my friends. Once in a while you need to go out in the middle of the week and just do something fun, out of routine, out of the ordinary day to day life. If you do that every now and then, you always have something to look forward to. No one likes a formulaic film - so why make your life seem like one.

I don't think I've ever found an artist that I just want to listen to all day. His albums could be on repeat constantly and I would not get bored and want to turn it over. It's easy listening, yet at the same time it's incredibly detailed. Each song is entirely different, there isn't two which sound alike. Through his albums you can hear his progression as an artist. He ventures into different styles and types of music, yet always keeps the essence of his music.

When you go and see a show you expect to hear music, that's all you've ever heard from the artist. But when we went to see Joshua Radin play, you got so much more. He literally spoke for around 2 minutes before he played a couple of songs, explaining what each of them meant to him and why he wrote, and actually engaging with the audience. Telling us and making us listen to the words of the song, getting us to participate and helping him in making the song complete. At one point he just stood away from the microphone and listened to the audience singing along to his song 'It's a brand new day' with a massive smile on his face. At the beginning he sang a whole song without using a microphone, who else would have the courage to do that and the confidence in themselves. He's not just a singer who wants it for the fame and the money, from seeing him on stage, you can tell that he really enjoys what he is doing especially clear when he ended his set with the first song he ever wrote; 'Winter' causing the whole audience to listen and turn completely silent.

It think its something we should all adopt. The ability to want something and do something, not just for money or for recognition, but for ourselves and our own self satisfaction. It's a hard thing to do, even for people who realise that this is what we should be like.


Impossible is just a big word thrown around
by small men who find it easier
to live in the world they have been given than
to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact.
It’s an opinion.
Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare.
Impossible is potential.
Impossible is temporary.

Impossible is nothing.

Sunday, 10 October 2010

The nature of perceiving.

I bought some heels yesterday. I'm not really the type of person to buy or walk round in heels. But I bought some anyway because I thought they would go well with a dress that I bought. So I need to start practising walking in them because currently it is not so good. I don't look elegant or beautiful. I look like a person who hasn't learnt to walk. How do they make it look so easy!
Despite the late date in the year the infamous Sun has decided to make a brief appearance again. Who knows how long it could last, maybe this one day is all we've got before winter kicks in and takes over with frosty mornings and cosy evenings. Sometimes I feel that looking at the weather forecast is like cheating. The spontaneity stops and you can predict everything. Although it seems like there is nothing worse than being caught in the rain wearing a skirt and sandals, looking back on all those times in London where paper bags have broken due to torrential down pours is actually quite humorous. Your misfortune is an impracticality of life, and it is just one that makes life that little more interesting when you want to retell the story of how it felt like you were going to drown from the insanity of the weather.
Sartre says that the only way you feel a certain way, like shame or elation, is because of other people perceiving you. It's true. The more I think about it, the more true it becomes. If you fall over, the only reason why you feel embarrassed it because others laugh at you. The only reason why you re-tell a story in the hyperbolic way that you do is so that people will laugh with you or show a reaction. Without the reaction from other people how boring would life be. We live to please others and for other people to acknowledge that. It's not a bad thing.

Sunday, 26 September 2010

100 years in a week

It seems a lot of my blog posts are about the future, so I'm going to stick to that convention and write another.
Yesterday I was watching a programme about time travel by Stephen Hawkings. Technically we have already made a time machine - the large hadron collider in Switzerland has proved that a certain type of particle which normally self combusts after around 125th of a second, when fired in the LHC takes double the time to self combust.
On the programme he spoke about how it was theoretically was possible for humans to travel into the future and that it is only our technology which is limiting us to make these machines that allow us to do the very thing everyone is so interested in doing. Many of the images created on the programme we computer generated images that aided us to understand how it could be possible. He used the example of a train track that went around the whole world. The train would pick up speed and suddenly when it reached 99.999999% of the speed that light travels in (7 times round the world in a second) 1 week on the train would be 100 years in the future as time on board the train would be slowed down so as not to reach the full speed of light.
It just made me think. There is no way back, we can't travel back in time. Who would take that trip if it were at all possible. We have no idea what the future can hold, our predictions are way out of league and mainly based on the notion of hope. We hope that the world can become a place of renewable energy sources, we hope that large areas of land are not underwater, we hope that there is peace and harmony amongst others and nature, and we hope there is fairness and freedom in society. But how much of what we hope will come true? Travelling to the future could mean gazing into a world where there actually is nothing. Maybe not 100 years into the future, but if we went further. A millennium into the future. What would be find?

Tuesday, 14 September 2010


So blogging has taken a back shelf recently - school started just about a week and a half ago, though it seems like I've been waking up at ungodly hours and dragging my self to school for months on end. It's such a weird feeling.
Yesterday I watched '2001: a Space odyssey' - and I really haven't stopped thinking about it since. It's such an odd film, something completely ahead of it's time in the sense of plot, ideas and even the cinematography and CGI. Initially the whole plot seems to be a waste of time; essentially there isn't one that is ever complete or explained, and Kubrick, the director obviously wants the audience to ask questions and interpret the film in their own way and have their own ideas.
However essentially the film is about human nature. What does it mean to be human? A question I am constantly faced with in my philosophy lessons. It values evolution. It shows the human race in it's simplest form, apes. When confronted with a mysterious monolith the apes showed clear signs of fear and angst, disturbance my this alien object, yet at the same time a fair amount of curiosity, wrought forward by their courage. Taking a step forward and examining the object in it's entirety, the apes take a step forward and evolve. A simple idea that we can all learn from.
If we cannot full grasp new ideas and concepts, if we are not curious about life and inventions, if we feel no need to learn new things, then how as a race can we move forward?

Wednesday, 25 August 2010

Sun Rise

Okay, here is another little story for you. For GCSE English there is a part where you have to describe something using a load of senses and descriptive language. We did a load of practice in class for it, each with different titles. This is one about a sun rise:

I’ve done it many times before and never have I seen the same sight. I have a photograph recollection of all the times I’ve been here in the same spot and every one is different. I often enjoy looking through them, not only to look at the picture taken, but how technology has changed from black and white old pictures to the ones that I’ve printed from the computer. The photographs however never capture the true essence of what is and what was, never will I be able to recall sounds I heard, feel the touch of the winters icy frost or summers light breeze or smell the freshly fallen dew on cut grass, for never will there be a moment like the one nature will produce now. For everyday is different, we can neither stop time nor call it back, it’s indefinite and brings us hoping and surprises.

Today was the same, a surprise, a wonder to my eye.

It took me longer than usual to get out of the house as I was taking along one of my Grandchildren and although I had told her in order to see a miracle she would have to get up early, be alert, ready and willing. However trying to get a 7 year old up and out of bed is not a task I myself would settle for everyday. Constantly anxious for whether I would miss the start of Mother Nature’s day not wanting to disappoint myself nor Rose for what I had promised her would be a sight she would always remember and trying not to get myself frustrated with her, while she frolicked around the house singing with her tooth brush in her mouth, waking herself up, but also the rest of the household.

Soon we were off. Rose singing ‘Oh What a Beautiful Morning’ at the top of her lungs with power that I no longer am familiar with and me trying to keep up with her carefree skip as we trudged through the park . The fresh spring air was crisp and cool; the grass was still wet from last night’s dew. The droplets glistened without the sun’s rays to reflect off of them, they were different from every angle and as we walked through the grass our shoes became increasing wet. There was a path nearby, but the grass was soft and bouncy on our feet so we stayed where we were. A few early daisies were dotted around, their petals closed to avoid the morning nip in the air. I suspected we would see them fully open showing off their pure flower when we would return this way in a few hours.

We stopped by the old Oak tree, which I guessed to be a few hundred years old. It towered above us high and dense with no intention of stopping. It was in the winter months you could fully appreciate the vast structure of the tree, but in spring time it was just as wonderful watching new buds appear and the green leaves unfold to make a truly magnificent sight filled with life. I saw a few birds starting to appear and soon the morning chorus was in full swing blocking out any traffic noise that ever was. No conductor to tell each singer the timing, no sheet music to tell them what note to sing, and no limit on what they could do. True improvisation. Rose started to whistle along, imitating the calls she heard from around her obviously marvelled by the tunes they were making.

We sat down at the foot of the tree, each sitting on an enormous root erupting up from the ground. I set up my camera, while Rose sat beside me eating the peanut butter sandwiches greedily I had made as a snack, dropping crumbs on the park floor that would most probably be picked up by a hungry bird later that day.

A touch of pink brushed the sky making it blush a furious red colour striped colourfully with lines of blue and lilac as well. From where we sat I could just see the tip of the Sun over the horizon eye level with us. I switched on my camera and stood up, Rose copied me, dropping her peanut butter sandwich and eagerly sucking her fingers clean she took my hand.

Together we watched as the Sun rose, slowly, but at a speed where it changed everything so quickly. Soon the flushed red sky turned orange and yellow as the Sun presented itself into the new day. Pastel colours, like the one’s I find in Rose’s crayon pot flooded the sky with delight. A bird flew across the scene to make it complete blackened out forming a silhouette where the sun shone brightly upon it. I looked to my right there her jaw hanging open in awe stood Rose. I gently let go of her hand and focused my camera on her with our scene and took a picture.

As the sky lost colour and turned increasingly blue, we started to head back. Once back home in the comfort of the house, our shoes on the radiator and a mug of Hot Chocolate in our hands, Rose’s mother asked: “What was it like Rose?”, she merely replied “Good, go and see for yourself.” But I knew she thought it was more than “good”, I knew she found it awe inspiring and wonderful. Because I have a picture which captures memories and sights like that.

Nothing's decided

This is a short story that I wrote when I was around 15, it was for the AS English class that I was taking a year in advance. I really enjoyed our lessons, they were so free, we could read what we wanted and write whatever we wanted for coursework.

One criteria was to write a piece intended for just reading. I chose to write a short story based of Arthur Golden's 'A memoir of a a Geisha'. It tells the story of Chiyo's (the main character) sister. They are taken away to Kyoto and separated. This is Satsu's tale of how she ran away.

I checked my almanac for the third time that day; it read ‘An auspicious day for small changes, a good day for travel in the direction of the Sheep, which was in the direction of northeast, the direction of home.’ Good. “Just trust it.” I said quietly to my self.

But how could I know until I was there? The almanac was a book designed to help with making decisions everyday. It told you whether doing even a small thing would bring you good luck or cause you pain and difficulty. Some people think everything to do with life is fate, and that your destiny is already decided for you long before you existence. Like a long path and you only have to follow it, there are no shortcuts or left and right corners. It’s just a straight line and you travel from one end to the other. I suppose it couldn’t hurt to believe those things once in a while. But it was hard to believe that this is what my life was, the opposite of everything I wanted. I wanted freedom, love, care, friendship, money and opportunities.

But there was just no way of knowing. All I had was trust and my fighting ambition to get both myself and Chiyo away from this place and back to our home. Back to our family and the life we had. I was prepared, my bag was packed and I had told Chiyo where I would meet her – by the river directly opposite the Minsmiza Theatre, and the time we would meet – one in the morning. But our meeting had been brief and frantic, how could I know whether she would turn up or not? I did not know her life now, how she was living and what troubles she could encounter.

I recalled the terror in her face at the parting in Kyoto. “Stay there.” Mr Bekku had said to me. “You’re going else where.” And he pushed me back into the rickshaw with his arm. My feelings and emotions were mirrored in Chiyo’s face, my eyes welled up and I couldn’t see her anymore, but her sobs echoed around me. I wiped the tears from my eyes and my gaze was met by the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her Kimono was embroidered with the warmest greens and yellows and her face was painted a pure white colour like the colour of the snow on the mountains which I had once seen in the distance back at home. “Mr Bekku,” She said. “Could you take the garbage out later? I’d like to be on my way.” There was no garbage in the courtyard. She continued to talk about herself in highest regard whilst she degraded others around her. I heard no more as the loud rumbling of the car traffic rolled by. A sight and sound I had never heard before.

I gathered the money for Mrs Kishino, the old woman at the door who would not let me past without some sort of pay. She said nothing to me, just nodded and smiled only slightly, I smiled back. Her were eyes comforting to mine. She understood what this meant to me, and maybe she was the only one in this place who really did understand. “It will be alright Satsu.” She said.

“I know” I replied clearly, although she could here the uncertainty in my voice.

“It’s best for you to get out while you can, if you wait until you’re my age your time will have passed. I can’t say that all the luck in the world is with you Satsu, but if you think about how much you want to be with your sister and how much you want to go home, you will make it.” Her old wise eyes met with mine again.

“What if she doesn’t come? What if all my days of planning have gone to waste? What if I get caught then I will never have another chance, it will ruin me if I try and fail, I will have to come back here and work until my days are over, and then…” Mrs Kishino cut me off short.

“Satsu, listen to me.” She began quietly. “I tried to run away and I failed, but only because I didn’t believe in myself. Satsu, believe in yourself and you can do it. You can.”

“Yes.” It was all I could say. Mrs Kishino stroked my hair, just as mother would do back in the village. “Good Luck.” She whispered.

Night after night I would work in the Tatsugo joroa-ya or the ‘pleasure house’ as it was known, feeding thoughtless men with this so called pleasure I could give them. Never once did I enjoy what I did. Never once did I look them in the eye while I gave my service. That was what I was. A service, which was abused, taken for granted, and I did not want to give freely of my service.

The time was twenty-five to one.

I ran, not looking behind myself, just running into the free streets of Japan, the bare soles of my feet slapping against the stone roads. I jumped over the occasional puddle from where it had rained a few days ago. I had run out in it yesterday morning when it was pouring from the skies, and cleaned myself, almost danced through the streets with the smile on my face, which I had so rarely done in the past months. When I returned to the house my Kimono was soaked through and I remembered taking it off and putting on a dry one, feeling the silk on my skin and how lovely it was. That simple thing I had done contented me and I was happy.

I saw Geisha in their brightly coloured Kimono, all on their way home after entertaining their guests not one of them bowed to me, or wished me a good evening,. They all knew what I was. I was not a hostess in the sense that they were, I wished to be though and I felt alone, isolated amongst these wonderfully beautiful Geisha, not one alike, yet all equally identical in a way. The Geisha didn’t smile at me, nor did they look at me with sneering or scowling eyes, they did not whisper rude remarks to their friends or turn their pale faces which shone in the moon light towards me as I walked past them. Instead they ignored me completely; they did not even regard me as a person. I felt oddly invisible yet too bright at the same time.

My pace slowed and I looked behind myself for the first time since I had left the house. I could not help but smile a little. Right now I could imagine Chiyo embarking on her journey to meet me. We would embrace in such a way that we would never let go again, even if we had too. I could imagine her soft dark hair and her pale eyes looking at me and I would wipe away her tears, we would clench each other’s hands and we would run. Run into the direction of the sheep. Home. My father would rush out the door, hold us and tell us that mother was going to be alright, then she would join us and we would hold each other forever and never let go. If only life wasn’t left up to fate.

I saw the Minsmiza Theatre, but I saw no Chiyo. It was only five to the hour, and I knew she wasn’t very punctual. I could almost hear the laughing and see the smiling of the people inside the theatre, who looked at the amazing costumes and watched the remarkable dances being performed.

I felt as if there was a spotlight on me. One or two people walked past me in silence turning their head my way and I stared back searching for Chiyo. The time seemed to go so slowly when one was waiting for something and I took it in my interest to find something to occupy my time with. I threw a stick in the water and gazed at it for as far down the river as I could see. A bird flew into the scene and grabbed my stick between its beak. Probably to build a nest for its family it was returning to. The stick’s journey had ended almost as suddenly as it had started, it would go no further in the direction of the sheep.

I stood by the river and looked into its deep, dark, unknowing waters. I would never know what was in there, how deep it was or where it was going even. All I knew was that it was there now and then the water ran away and it was gone. The curves of the river bed deciding the way for the water to flow and where it should go. Even if I threw a stick in and interrupted the river with something unexpected it could deal with it. It had guidelines that lead it on its way, and I knew I had none. I was alone and no one was there to push me back onto the right track or stop me from going off in the wrong direction. I was alone and Chiyo wasn’t coming. I was alone and I ran.

Sunday, 22 August 2010

Saturday, 7 August 2010

Connections and Impulses

So I think I finally have my five university choices sorted out. They will probably change and I won't have a clue where to go in a couple of weeks. I'll freak out when I actually have to select them on my UCAS form and make a last second impulsive decision that I don't think about and that eventually turns out to be wrong so that I have to tell someone I want to change it and then there will be a massive great big 'hoo-hah' about the whole thing and then I will once again be back to where I was and my original five choices.

I am currently listening to the proms, and its so good! Just the right amount of everything. Crash of a symbol, punch of a trombone, waltzing violins and a bright clarinet. I feel I have a connection when the clarinet plays the tune. I feel in a way proud. Likewise when reading a bit of Dickens and he describes the marshes in Great Expectations and the places in London I can so relate to that and understand that he has seen the things that I, too have seen. That's wonderful. And Shakespeare - I went to see Henry IV at the Globe. It was the first time I had seen that play and I loved it, but more so, with the fact that the play was in constant referral to the town and area that I lived in. I feel in tune with the play and the writer.

Monday, 2 August 2010

12 minutes of conversation at 17:41


its fine there are thosands!

that wasnt right







i think i need special spelling lessons before year 13






13 is my ultimate unlucky number, damn it


how is this

i can't even


i can't be almost 18

it's just INSANE MAN


i know i feel like a child





no way am i driving, living on my own, fending for myslef




i know!!!!






we could actually go to prison





they wouldnt just blame out parents anymore






i wanna go to azkaban




maybe not




but we have to pay bills




i have absolutely no idea!!!!




im actually going to die








what even is a morgage



it's just a word


and then!

we'll be getting married


how do i move away from everyone i knoq


9-5 job

bored as ever


and make a billion new friends












where is time going!!!!






bejeezus 5 year olds dont know how easy life is at their age






me too!!!


i want to eat food so spicy my head falls off




swim in a lake





climb the andes!



bunjee jump (maybe)





after peru it's time for uni



i'm 5


can we just stay out there living wild in the forest


we can take a course at the university of life

we could just NOT GO




we have no obligation to go


lets just explore th world

theres so much to see!


there is

and you know what

we are like the smallest planet

and we live in one of the smallest countries

and it freaks me out that i can still go to places in our small little country and be amazed by how different it is to anywhere else i've been


and then europe

well that's insane

and i've never been anywhere else

but how crazy must it be there?!?!?!


i know we are so small

we are miniscule


then think of ants



also, one tiny molecule tha makes up an object, imagine how many there are in the world