I'm sitting, still at the holiday cottage, waiting for my parents to return from one of the nearby villages or towns, arms hopefully loaded with some form of meat sandwich. Speak of the devil.
Anyhow, after a fully satisfying lunch of sausage sandwich followed by a nice cream slice, I return to desperately have a shot in the dark at what my train of thought was. Ah yes, sofa beds. I'm having to sleep on one where I'm staying, due to a lack of another actual bed. Despite it not being quite so comfy as my bed at home (although I'm sure that that's slightly down to a lack of a LUXURIOUS goose-feather pillow - and yes, I am being rather elitist), it isn't outrageously difficult to get a good night's sleep on it - although I suppose that's partially because my mind knows that I'll have to start revising when I get up; I always sleep better on weekdays.
It's more the pain of it actually being a sofa, in the lounge, that annoys me - not only is it slightly inconvenient to get to its bed state of being, but it also means that I can't choose to take an early night unless everyone wants to! Oh, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
Then of course, there's the perpetual fear that the bed setting will go SNAP, it suddenly clicks back into sofa position and BANG goes my spine, and probably large other parts of my body as well - although I'm not going to specify what - as it becomes rapidly encased in a reasonably massive metal frame, with some barely-soft material in between that would really fail to lessen the impact. But then again, probably not.
And then there's the absolutely huge French window next to my bed, which, come the crack of dawn, nullifies the effect of the curtains, and great damaging shards of light somehow filter through the thick maroon (I know - blegh!) fabric and temporarily rouses me from my greatly-loved slumber. That sun up there really is a mean bastard.
Monday 31 May 2010
The big stomach
Thankyou very much, and I'm sure that your extra pair of hands will cause me and the readers great pleasure. Ah... I love innuendo. Anyway, I'm sure the extra contributions, however frequent/infrequent they may be, will be awesome to read - personally, I've always been interested in Spanner's opinions, generally because they're quite interesting (and why else!), and I hope everyone else finds them equally entertaining.
Just something that occurred to me as I was chewing the old fat with my parents over chicken and bread last night is how Sarah Beaney is perpetually pregnant. No matter what 'Refurbishing The Old Cottages Of The Northern Hebrides' style program she's on, she always has a little guy in her, whether that's because she's just a nymph or because she has a 23rd-week abortion fetish I'm not sure. But what we can all agree on is that she needs to temporarily drop the Roman Catholicism.
She'd do better in Amsterdam.
Just something that occurred to me as I was chewing the old fat with my parents over chicken and bread last night is how Sarah Beaney is perpetually pregnant. No matter what 'Refurbishing The Old Cottages Of The Northern Hebrides' style program she's on, she always has a little guy in her, whether that's because she's just a nymph or because she has a 23rd-week abortion fetish I'm not sure. But what we can all agree on is that she needs to temporarily drop the Roman Catholicism.
She'd do better in Amsterdam.
Monday Morning Feelings
I desperately want my post headings to sound like 80s songs, much like many of my emails have subjects that sounds like they should be episode titles from "Scrubs". Call it part of my OCD, that doesn't care if my room is a mess (call it organised clutter if you must, but it really is a tip), but has to follow patterns for the most obscure things that only one or two other people will ever see.
Following on from Persona 101's earlier post, I feel that I need to write about prom. Now, our group of friends may not have been the most popular in the school over the past 5 years, in fact, we were almost certainly the outcasts, but that has never stopped us having fun, and Friday night was no exception. Sat around our table, oddly named "Main Hall" (I feel sorry for the table that got "Uniform"), we chatted and took pictures and ate a relatively good meal, considering they were catering for some rather fussy Year 11s (none of whom write this blog thankfully; did I mention that food is a passion of mine?).
Half a game of giant chess on the front lawn with two teachers who took the whole thing far too seriously, three large insect bites and some seriously good chocolate mousse later, everyone was on the "dancefloor", dancing to what can only be described as Year 6 disco music. I still think it's a shame that the mosh pits were broken up, but I don't think some of the girls would have appreciated having their marshmallowy dresses trampled on by a large group of sweaty, shouting people.
Friday night (or rather Saturday morning) was spent in the company of friends (minus one person who had to disappear off to Scotland, who we all missed a lot) watching Takeshi's Castle, Scrubs and South Park, and drinking vokda and pineapple juice, which progressively got stronger as my hands got less stready through the night.
As over-the-top as the whole event was, it was a lovely way to say goodbye to people that I may not see again, whether that be through choice or not.
I'm just glad I left school the way I came in: pale.
Following on from Persona 101's earlier post, I feel that I need to write about prom. Now, our group of friends may not have been the most popular in the school over the past 5 years, in fact, we were almost certainly the outcasts, but that has never stopped us having fun, and Friday night was no exception. Sat around our table, oddly named "Main Hall" (I feel sorry for the table that got "Uniform"), we chatted and took pictures and ate a relatively good meal, considering they were catering for some rather fussy Year 11s (none of whom write this blog thankfully; did I mention that food is a passion of mine?).
Half a game of giant chess on the front lawn with two teachers who took the whole thing far too seriously, three large insect bites and some seriously good chocolate mousse later, everyone was on the "dancefloor", dancing to what can only be described as Year 6 disco music. I still think it's a shame that the mosh pits were broken up, but I don't think some of the girls would have appreciated having their marshmallowy dresses trampled on by a large group of sweaty, shouting people.
Friday night (or rather Saturday morning) was spent in the company of friends (minus one person who had to disappear off to Scotland, who we all missed a lot) watching Takeshi's Castle, Scrubs and South Park, and drinking vokda and pineapple juice, which progressively got stronger as my hands got less stready through the night.
As over-the-top as the whole event was, it was a lovely way to say goodbye to people that I may not see again, whether that be through choice or not.
I'm just glad I left school the way I came in: pale.
A New Pair Of Hands.
Or rather a new brain to provide a pleasant and slightly less metal-based alternative to the other posts here.
Okay, so, a general (yet still Anonymous) introduction:
Another teenager from Britain, living her life split between two equally dysfunctional households (the ins and outs of which will probably become apparent as my number of posts increase). I spend most of my time listening to obscure bands of varying genres (although I tend to stay away from many of my fellow writer's prefered bands, mainly because their song titles only serve to disturb me, or make me ponder if they're related to some unusual sexual fetish or not), reading books that generally aren't written for the supposedly innocent eyes of a girl my age, and worrying about the state of the modern world/exams/whether the cake I just put in the oven will rise evenly, or become a new type of Frisbee.
Now, despite the fact I should be up and about, making the most of half term, revising and seeing friends and whatnot, I will most likely spend the majority of today planning my next post, and watching whatever silly American programme finds itself on my TV, which is currently "Priveleged". I'm genuinely ashamed of myself. Time to do something productive I think....
Okay, so, a general (yet still Anonymous) introduction:
Another teenager from Britain, living her life split between two equally dysfunctional households (the ins and outs of which will probably become apparent as my number of posts increase). I spend most of my time listening to obscure bands of varying genres (although I tend to stay away from many of my fellow writer's prefered bands, mainly because their song titles only serve to disturb me, or make me ponder if they're related to some unusual sexual fetish or not), reading books that generally aren't written for the supposedly innocent eyes of a girl my age, and worrying about the state of the modern world/exams/whether the cake I just put in the oven will rise evenly, or become a new type of Frisbee.
Now, despite the fact I should be up and about, making the most of half term, revising and seeing friends and whatnot, I will most likely spend the majority of today planning my next post, and watching whatever silly American programme finds itself on my TV, which is currently "Priveleged". I'm genuinely ashamed of myself. Time to do something productive I think....
Sunday 30 May 2010
Oh flower of Scotland...
Right now, I'm in Scotland; St. Andrews to be exact. I'm staying in a nice little collection of holiday cottages called Morton's of Pitmilly - despite there being nice facilities here, tennis courts, putting green, (WIFI!) blah blah blah, it still feels to me like I'm in the shit end of nowhere. Whenever I go on holiday, I get really sentimental and miss my friends a lot. And this is only after 1 day, with the benefit of internet communication, although I can't get a signal on my phone. Yeah, it's useful for buckling down to revision, but I miss them!
I think what exacerbates the problem is that I left straight after my secondary school prom - it was a great evening, but unfortunately, due to needing to get up early to travel here, I couldn't go to any of the various afterparties, much as I wanted to, and had to instead wave a white van, full of my friends, goodbye, probably looking incredibly sombre. I hear they had a great time, which, happy as I am for them, can't fail to ignite a spark of jealousy - never a positive thing.
Anyhow, with a washing machine doing its incessant... well, washing, but nonetheless emitting a sound that sounds somewhat like an old Doctor Who mechanical villain, which is beginning to get on my nerves a bit, and I actually have a desperate urge to eat to stave off the boredom, but I'll probably just resort to reading a book. Or browse some internet forum, reading people's opinions that I don't really care about, just so I can mock them in my head with a theatrical gasp and say 'Great Scott! Does 'T3hIns4n3987' really think that the later work of Carcass has more artistic merit than early Napalm Death?'. I then plan (in my head, of course) to refute their point with an essay-length, well-researched rebuttal... but then I realise that I don't have an account on xxxdeathxmetalxxx.com/forum, and thus decide that it's all a waste of time anyway, and I decide to just let 'T3hIns4n3987' WALLOW in their own ignorance. Yeah, I'm the knight in shining armour of internet ignorance.
I'd like to conclude this post by introducing two potential authors to the blog, although I'm not quite sure of the volume of contribution that we can expect, both Persona 102 (yeah, I sort of dragged her into it, hence the copycat name), and hlctwh93, who I'm more confident of a nice contribution from time to time from. The only problem is this: it now seems like everyone who I know reads my blog, writes for it, so, if there's anyone in the murky depths of the internet (to borrow a phrase from the wonderful hlcwth93) who is reading, please, speak up! It makes it so much more worthwhile for all of us. Thanks.
I think what exacerbates the problem is that I left straight after my secondary school prom - it was a great evening, but unfortunately, due to needing to get up early to travel here, I couldn't go to any of the various afterparties, much as I wanted to, and had to instead wave a white van, full of my friends, goodbye, probably looking incredibly sombre. I hear they had a great time, which, happy as I am for them, can't fail to ignite a spark of jealousy - never a positive thing.
Anyhow, with a washing machine doing its incessant... well, washing, but nonetheless emitting a sound that sounds somewhat like an old Doctor Who mechanical villain, which is beginning to get on my nerves a bit, and I actually have a desperate urge to eat to stave off the boredom, but I'll probably just resort to reading a book. Or browse some internet forum, reading people's opinions that I don't really care about, just so I can mock them in my head with a theatrical gasp and say 'Great Scott! Does 'T3hIns4n3987' really think that the later work of Carcass has more artistic merit than early Napalm Death?'. I then plan (in my head, of course) to refute their point with an essay-length, well-researched rebuttal... but then I realise that I don't have an account on xxxdeathxmetalxxx.com/forum, and thus decide that it's all a waste of time anyway, and I decide to just let 'T3hIns4n3987' WALLOW in their own ignorance. Yeah, I'm the knight in shining armour of internet ignorance.
I'd like to conclude this post by introducing two potential authors to the blog, although I'm not quite sure of the volume of contribution that we can expect, both Persona 102 (yeah, I sort of dragged her into it, hence the copycat name), and hlctwh93, who I'm more confident of a nice contribution from time to time from. The only problem is this: it now seems like everyone who I know reads my blog, writes for it, so, if there's anyone in the murky depths of the internet (to borrow a phrase from the wonderful hlcwth93) who is reading, please, speak up! It makes it so much more worthwhile for all of us. Thanks.
Thursday 27 May 2010
Draft autosaved at 19:57
I thought I'd describe my present surroundings. I'm sitting on a fabric spinny computer chair (although unfortunately the poor quality of the fabric makes it feel like I'm sitting on velcro), with my feet appropriately placed on the cold metal spindle. Although it's cold, it gives me comfort, possibly in a quasi-masochistic way (a side that I never knew existed in me, before I entered this over contemplation), but also because the circularity of the metal bar makes it fit snugly into the arches of my feet.
I'm sitting in an attempt at a reclined position, although the back of the chair's solidarity makes it difficult to fully recline; to do so would entail me sliding the edge of my bottom off the base - which there's probably a technical word for (the base, not the sliding off of one's bottom) (if you know it, please tell me, and you are either prominent in the chair industry, enjoy the sport of 'random paging' on Wikipedia, or just plain sad) - which in itself defeats the purpose of reclining - i.e. for extra comfort.
As I type this, my fingers are either frantically flashing over the keyboard, or resting in a contemplative manner, either of which involves my right arm resting on the wooden surface, which unfortunately causes a mild amount of sticking, not so much as it's painful for me to lift my arm from the surface, like it would be after sitting in the same position in a bathtub for far too long, but so it causes a mild amount of discomfort, which whilst easily dismissable, is nonetheless unwanted. My left arm does not suffer the same fate, as I am sitting at such an angle that only the ball of my left wrist is on the surface.
The surface itself is shiny; it appears to be polished, but I believe that that is merely the result of the initial finish, combined with frequent, vigorous cleaning. Whilst there is currently various debris scattered over it, pertaining to revision, my mother's work, CDs for uploading to iTunes, two phones, and several plastic wallets, there is still a sufficient area of the surface clear for one to surmise that this effect is reproduced throughout the surface.
My Physics revision book, soon to be buried by time and dust (guess the reference) after I finish any sort of science forever after tomorrow's exam, is lying open at a pair of pages towards the back, which contain information about 'stars and galaxies' and the life cycle thereof, and several 'witty' comments by the world-renowned CGP standup comedians that merely come across as patronising and childish (one that springs to mind is the use of 'Ewwww! Poo!' for a GCSE (i.e. for 16 year olds!) Biology revision guide, with reference to the digestive system).
The aforementioned plastic wallets are scattered in a somehow aesthetically pleasing haphazard fashion - the reason for the aesthetic quality is probably due to the small act of defiance against the world order (hardeharhar), and thus its OBVIOUS Communist connotations. Yeah.
To the left of the VDU is a printer; a relatively old model that has problems from time to time, and has trouble printing 'the fourth page of three' (I would say 'only a genius could do that!', but 'only a retard' seems more appropriate). It is currently locked and loaded with approximately... 1 sheet of blank printing paper. It lies dormant, and the various nooks on it personify it, giving it a mouth and a nose; although the lack of apparent 'eyes' is somewhat unnerving. It begs to be used.
Above me are 5 shelves, all about 12 inches tall in terms of gaps, except for the bottom one, which is about 20 inches. They are constructed out of the same wood as the work surface; and I daresay that if one was to rest their arm on there for a prolonged period of time, the same unpleasant sticking feeling, as described earlier, would occur. They are filled with books, of varying age, thickness, and indeed quality - from excellence like Emile Zola, to mediocre pot boilers, Nicci French being an example, although the twin author concept is initially intriguing.
There is much more I can say about the environment that I have positioned myself in; but I'm bored of describing, and anyway, this was only really practice for my English exam anyway, in the form of a hopefully mildly entertaining blog post. Sorry if you feel cheated. (The polite form of John Lydon, otherwise known as Public Image). Oh, and if you're wondering why this post has no labels, it's because the 200 character restriction meant that I had to choose between several equally important labels, and therefore chose to omit them all. Thankyou.
I'm sitting in an attempt at a reclined position, although the back of the chair's solidarity makes it difficult to fully recline; to do so would entail me sliding the edge of my bottom off the base - which there's probably a technical word for (the base, not the sliding off of one's bottom) (if you know it, please tell me, and you are either prominent in the chair industry, enjoy the sport of 'random paging' on Wikipedia, or just plain sad) - which in itself defeats the purpose of reclining - i.e. for extra comfort.
As I type this, my fingers are either frantically flashing over the keyboard, or resting in a contemplative manner, either of which involves my right arm resting on the wooden surface, which unfortunately causes a mild amount of sticking, not so much as it's painful for me to lift my arm from the surface, like it would be after sitting in the same position in a bathtub for far too long, but so it causes a mild amount of discomfort, which whilst easily dismissable, is nonetheless unwanted. My left arm does not suffer the same fate, as I am sitting at such an angle that only the ball of my left wrist is on the surface.
The surface itself is shiny; it appears to be polished, but I believe that that is merely the result of the initial finish, combined with frequent, vigorous cleaning. Whilst there is currently various debris scattered over it, pertaining to revision, my mother's work, CDs for uploading to iTunes, two phones, and several plastic wallets, there is still a sufficient area of the surface clear for one to surmise that this effect is reproduced throughout the surface.
My Physics revision book, soon to be buried by time and dust (guess the reference) after I finish any sort of science forever after tomorrow's exam, is lying open at a pair of pages towards the back, which contain information about 'stars and galaxies' and the life cycle thereof, and several 'witty' comments by the world-renowned CGP standup comedians that merely come across as patronising and childish (one that springs to mind is the use of 'Ewwww! Poo!' for a GCSE (i.e. for 16 year olds!) Biology revision guide, with reference to the digestive system).
The aforementioned plastic wallets are scattered in a somehow aesthetically pleasing haphazard fashion - the reason for the aesthetic quality is probably due to the small act of defiance against the world order (hardeharhar), and thus its OBVIOUS Communist connotations. Yeah.
To the left of the VDU is a printer; a relatively old model that has problems from time to time, and has trouble printing 'the fourth page of three' (I would say 'only a genius could do that!', but 'only a retard' seems more appropriate). It is currently locked and loaded with approximately... 1 sheet of blank printing paper. It lies dormant, and the various nooks on it personify it, giving it a mouth and a nose; although the lack of apparent 'eyes' is somewhat unnerving. It begs to be used.
Above me are 5 shelves, all about 12 inches tall in terms of gaps, except for the bottom one, which is about 20 inches. They are constructed out of the same wood as the work surface; and I daresay that if one was to rest their arm on there for a prolonged period of time, the same unpleasant sticking feeling, as described earlier, would occur. They are filled with books, of varying age, thickness, and indeed quality - from excellence like Emile Zola, to mediocre pot boilers, Nicci French being an example, although the twin author concept is initially intriguing.
There is much more I can say about the environment that I have positioned myself in; but I'm bored of describing, and anyway, this was only really practice for my English exam anyway, in the form of a hopefully mildly entertaining blog post. Sorry if you feel cheated. (The polite form of John Lydon, otherwise known as Public Image). Oh, and if you're wondering why this post has no labels, it's because the 200 character restriction meant that I had to choose between several equally important labels, and therefore chose to omit them all. Thankyou.
Paul Rhys (tooo kaiii tennn)
It's been a while since I last posted, so I thought I should add something. My first directive for this post is that I saw the third episode of Luther (a cop drama) last night. The one thing that struck me was how much like George Osborne the serial killer (who kidnapped women, froze them and drank their blood - as you do) looked. I can't find a way to embed it, as it's from the BBC website, but just follow this link, and watch about 30 seconds in. http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00shq3m/Luther_Episode_3/ You'll see what I mean.
It also struck me how similar the personalities were. I mean, what is George Osborne if not a rich, sick, perverted, blood-sucking, abducting, disgusting member of a cult? And they're both so SHINY! I mean, I can just imagine Paul Rhys sucking the blood out of the British economy to fuel his own purchase of 'top quality grease'... just like George Osborne!
Actually, I should probably stop there before someone, although I'm not sure which of the pair, tries to do be for libel, and I end up bloodless in a freezer on a boat. So I'll depart with two pictures, so you can make your own mind up:
Oh! Sorry! They're BOTH George Osborne!
It also struck me how similar the personalities were. I mean, what is George Osborne if not a rich, sick, perverted, blood-sucking, abducting, disgusting member of a cult? And they're both so SHINY! I mean, I can just imagine Paul Rhys sucking the blood out of the British economy to fuel his own purchase of 'top quality grease'... just like George Osborne!
Actually, I should probably stop there before someone, although I'm not sure which of the pair, tries to do be for libel, and I end up bloodless in a freezer on a boat. So I'll depart with two pictures, so you can make your own mind up:
Oh! Sorry! They're BOTH George Osborne!
Thursday 20 May 2010
Blogging for blogging's sake.
Study leave has finally started. And what do I intend to do with it? Start my revision proper, of course! After all, the clue's in the name. The problem is the vast amount of subjects to revise, and the sudden rush of noble 'let's do some revision' valour, that of course leads to twenty minutes of umming and ahhing about what subject to revise before eventually deciding to follow the 'Fuck this for a game of tennis, I have other stuff I can do. Like blog.' route, which will unfortunately/fortuitously (depending on how you see it) result in many bastard, misconceived posts like this one.
Usually, when I open the dashboard, I have a purpose, something I want to write about. Do I this time? Hell no. I have Facebook, this and Youtube open, none of which can hold my attention for too long (this being the longest - i.e. the period of time it takes to write a post). I will eventually get down to some revision - most likely Biology, having my exam tomorrow - but for the time being, I'm perfectly content to rest in my stupor with a complete lack of direction.
In the time between writing these two paragraphs, I've even managed to get out my revision book - a clear sign of intent, surely? To analogize it (is that even a word?), it's like a recording being found of a suspect at a murder enquiry promising to fulfil the exact specifications of the murder that has actually taken place. But not actually murder. Well, not literally; but speaking figuratively has never been my forte (damn Blogger's lack of an easy facility for adding acute accents to 'E's).
Actually, I DO have something to write about - yesterday, I saw 'Four Lions'. It was great; one of the best comedies I've ever seen. Right up there with 'Team America', although most of the best comedy doesn't come in the form of a film, but rather a guy (or girl - I don't want Jo Brand's wrath!) standing on a stage, baring their soul to the audience, or, in Frank Skinner's case, slowly gyrating. Anyhow, the film. Whilst the subject matter may be a little touchy, and may get the makers into trouble, similarly to Salman Rushdie, a lot of the best comedy is non-PC. I would seriously recommend it to anybody willing to temporarily drop some of their 'politically correct' inhibitions.
Usually, when I open the dashboard, I have a purpose, something I want to write about. Do I this time? Hell no. I have Facebook, this and Youtube open, none of which can hold my attention for too long (this being the longest - i.e. the period of time it takes to write a post). I will eventually get down to some revision - most likely Biology, having my exam tomorrow - but for the time being, I'm perfectly content to rest in my stupor with a complete lack of direction.
In the time between writing these two paragraphs, I've even managed to get out my revision book - a clear sign of intent, surely? To analogize it (is that even a word?), it's like a recording being found of a suspect at a murder enquiry promising to fulfil the exact specifications of the murder that has actually taken place. But not actually murder. Well, not literally; but speaking figuratively has never been my forte (damn Blogger's lack of an easy facility for adding acute accents to 'E's).
Actually, I DO have something to write about - yesterday, I saw 'Four Lions'. It was great; one of the best comedies I've ever seen. Right up there with 'Team America', although most of the best comedy doesn't come in the form of a film, but rather a guy (or girl - I don't want Jo Brand's wrath!) standing on a stage, baring their soul to the audience, or, in Frank Skinner's case, slowly gyrating. Anyhow, the film. Whilst the subject matter may be a little touchy, and may get the makers into trouble, similarly to Salman Rushdie, a lot of the best comedy is non-PC. I would seriously recommend it to anybody willing to temporarily drop some of their 'politically correct' inhibitions.
Tuesday 18 May 2010
Living the high life
So to speak. I can't really fathom that it's just two lessons until I leave the relative safety of secondary school, although I don't want to dwell on that too much, having already written on the matter. What I want to write about is this: do people deserve EMA for just fitting into a set bracket of parental income?
Whilst the Conservative party do want to cut it, and have already cut the £100 bonus payments, there is still the debate on whether students should receive it at all. To clear any misconceptions ahead of time, I will not be receiving EMA when I go to college, as my household income is too great.
I suppose the question is about what the money goes on. I believe the vast majority of the money goes on alcohol, clothes, and other recreational items that have no necessary link to learning. An argument for it is that those who do not receive EMA would receive this money from their parents anyway, but I can tell you, I get very little from my parents, and certainly wouldn't get any if I wanted to go out and get drunk (not that I'm complaining - I don't drink anyway).
However, if the money given is put to good use, for instance, is spent on items that aid with learning, or helps an unemployed, or low wage parent get by on frankly inadequate jobseeker's and children allowances. This, I believe, however, is comparatively rare.
There is also the argument that EMA keeps certain children in education, who would have otherwise gone straight into work, with no financial incentive to continue. Whilst this is a great thing in theory, there are two flaws. Firstly (and this is just a presumption), many of these people may drop out of college, seeing that further education is not for them, before obtaining any qualifications or useful skills, thus the money that has gone into this is wasted. Secondly, all this is based on a presumption that more skilled workers are what we need in Britain - whilst that may certainly be true at the moment, can we really foresee what's going to happen in a generation's time?
To conclude, I believe that these problems can be solved by changing the terms of EMA, and making it into a contract with some return obligations. The first of these obligations could make abuse of the system by dropping out early a lot harder - EMA would be turned into a loan, and only upon completion of a full two years of further education would all debts be dropped - if the student was to drop out early, he or she would have to repay the amount received in EMA up to that point.
Secondly, students would have to be able to prove that the EMA that they were receiving was used wisely and appropriately - a certain allowance would have to be made, of course, but by way of receipts and the like, they would have to show that the full £30 was not going on booze. This could cut uptake of further education, but as I mentioned earlier, it is debatable whether this is a problem or not.
Thirdly, and finally, students would have to prove that their parents' income was actually the specified amount, which would both help to avoid EMA fraud, and help with people fiddling their income on their HMRC tax forms.
I don't think that EMA is a bad thing; indeed, I can see its many benefits; however, I do just think that it needs to be regulated more carefully than it is at the present time. As always, comments would be appreciated, especially if there are any glaring flaws in my argument that I've missed out!
Whilst the Conservative party do want to cut it, and have already cut the £100 bonus payments, there is still the debate on whether students should receive it at all. To clear any misconceptions ahead of time, I will not be receiving EMA when I go to college, as my household income is too great.
I suppose the question is about what the money goes on. I believe the vast majority of the money goes on alcohol, clothes, and other recreational items that have no necessary link to learning. An argument for it is that those who do not receive EMA would receive this money from their parents anyway, but I can tell you, I get very little from my parents, and certainly wouldn't get any if I wanted to go out and get drunk (not that I'm complaining - I don't drink anyway).
However, if the money given is put to good use, for instance, is spent on items that aid with learning, or helps an unemployed, or low wage parent get by on frankly inadequate jobseeker's and children allowances. This, I believe, however, is comparatively rare.
There is also the argument that EMA keeps certain children in education, who would have otherwise gone straight into work, with no financial incentive to continue. Whilst this is a great thing in theory, there are two flaws. Firstly (and this is just a presumption), many of these people may drop out of college, seeing that further education is not for them, before obtaining any qualifications or useful skills, thus the money that has gone into this is wasted. Secondly, all this is based on a presumption that more skilled workers are what we need in Britain - whilst that may certainly be true at the moment, can we really foresee what's going to happen in a generation's time?
To conclude, I believe that these problems can be solved by changing the terms of EMA, and making it into a contract with some return obligations. The first of these obligations could make abuse of the system by dropping out early a lot harder - EMA would be turned into a loan, and only upon completion of a full two years of further education would all debts be dropped - if the student was to drop out early, he or she would have to repay the amount received in EMA up to that point.
Secondly, students would have to be able to prove that the EMA that they were receiving was used wisely and appropriately - a certain allowance would have to be made, of course, but by way of receipts and the like, they would have to show that the full £30 was not going on booze. This could cut uptake of further education, but as I mentioned earlier, it is debatable whether this is a problem or not.
Thirdly, and finally, students would have to prove that their parents' income was actually the specified amount, which would both help to avoid EMA fraud, and help with people fiddling their income on their HMRC tax forms.
I don't think that EMA is a bad thing; indeed, I can see its many benefits; however, I do just think that it needs to be regulated more carefully than it is at the present time. As always, comments would be appreciated, especially if there are any glaring flaws in my argument that I've missed out!
Monday 17 May 2010
Ronnie James Dio - A Tribute
R.I.P. Ronnie James Dio, who passed away at 7.45am on May 16, 2010, due to stomach cancer. Many of these tributes will be popping up, hopefully, so this is one just to add to the numbers of people who are worshipping your legacy. Why do they always take the good ones? You always seemed to be so modest, and yet you produced such wonderful music.
Friday 14 May 2010
Life?
No, not the (awesome) Napalm Death song, just another musing (hence the blog title) about my life, that only really feels to be starting now, as I enter my last few days of secondary school. Whilst the excitement in my year group is ubiquitous, I personally am incredibly nervous about the whole 'responsibility' thing; as I've never really had to work hard at school, and thus I'm now worried about how I'm going to be able to adjust.
So how am I coping? Stress is fine by me, I can just dismiss it with a flick of the switch. Haha. That's another thing I don't know - I've never really been stressed, and again, I'm worried about how I will cope.
Anyway, I thought I should note that I'm writing this from a school computer, after much difficulty, as according to my school's dumb firewall my own blog is pornographic. Yeah, because people get off on recounts of school politics. I had to sign in, then go to a post that doesn't exist, just in order to be able to access the 'New Post' button.
I've already finished RE, PE, IT, History, Food, Physics and Biology FOREVER, and have finished Maths for the year. I mean, I'm really glad to see the back of the sciences, and short course IT's just a joke, but I really enjoyed History over the last couple of years, due to my incredibly down-to-earth teacher, and I'm sad to finish it.
So now, I've just really got a series of exams to hurdle.
So how am I coping? Stress is fine by me, I can just dismiss it with a flick of the switch. Haha. That's another thing I don't know - I've never really been stressed, and again, I'm worried about how I will cope.
Anyway, I thought I should note that I'm writing this from a school computer, after much difficulty, as according to my school's dumb firewall my own blog is pornographic. Yeah, because people get off on recounts of school politics. I had to sign in, then go to a post that doesn't exist, just in order to be able to access the 'New Post' button.
I've already finished RE, PE, IT, History, Food, Physics and Biology FOREVER, and have finished Maths for the year. I mean, I'm really glad to see the back of the sciences, and short course IT's just a joke, but I really enjoyed History over the last couple of years, due to my incredibly down-to-earth teacher, and I'm sad to finish it.
So now, I've just really got a series of exams to hurdle.
Tuesday 11 May 2010
Anathema
Just a brief thought, this time about the band Anathema. Starting out as one of the 'Peaceville Trio' of death/doom metal, along with My Dying Bride and Paradise Lost (only MDB still play the style), they have since moved on to a more relaxing form of music that often resembles mainstream acts such as Keane and Snow Patrol, but still with the gloomy complexion and more minimalistic songs, which to me are simultaneously catchier and less annoying - whether this is because of their background I'm not sure, possibly clouding my vision in this respect.
Nonetheless, they play thoroughly enjoyable music, their recent album 'Hindsight' being acoustic reinterpretations of previous, heavy songs - not the 'MTV Unplugged' abomination it sounds like - which work surprisingly well! I'd like to hear more opinions on them, if possible, as I'm not entirely sure why they haven't broken into the mainstream with their newer material.
On that matter, if anybody's reading, I urge you to post a comment! That way I get some feedback, which could help me to mould my writing style and subjects, and also lets me know that all this writing is worth it in the first place - keeping a diary that nobody else reads has always seemed like a narcissistic, self-indulgent thing to me, and I wouldn't like that to be the case with this blog!
Anyhow, here's a link to 'Fragile Dreams', off the aforementioned 'Hindsight' album:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZZrp0Wlkgg
Nonetheless, they play thoroughly enjoyable music, their recent album 'Hindsight' being acoustic reinterpretations of previous, heavy songs - not the 'MTV Unplugged' abomination it sounds like - which work surprisingly well! I'd like to hear more opinions on them, if possible, as I'm not entirely sure why they haven't broken into the mainstream with their newer material.
On that matter, if anybody's reading, I urge you to post a comment! That way I get some feedback, which could help me to mould my writing style and subjects, and also lets me know that all this writing is worth it in the first place - keeping a diary that nobody else reads has always seemed like a narcissistic, self-indulgent thing to me, and I wouldn't like that to be the case with this blog!
Anyhow, here's a link to 'Fragile Dreams', off the aforementioned 'Hindsight' album:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZZrp0Wlkgg
The Liberation Project - Demo January 2007
Ok, so this is a demo of a friend's band, I thought I'd post it on here even though they broke up shortly after recording it. It's pretty good, and don't worry, I do have rights to distribute it, so I'm not breaking any sort of copyright law.
http://www.megaupload.com/?d=XEJVCINN
Tracklisting:
1) Dead Generation
2) Stereotyped
3) God Save The Queen (Sex Pistols cover)
Oh, by the way, no artwork exists for this, so if you're like me, and like having artwork for everything in your iTunes/media player library, you're stuffed. Sorry.
http://www.megaupload.com/?d=XEJVCINN
Tracklisting:
1) Dead Generation
2) Stereotyped
3) God Save The Queen (Sex Pistols cover)
Oh, by the way, no artwork exists for this, so if you're like me, and like having artwork for everything in your iTunes/media player library, you're stuffed. Sorry.
Sunday 9 May 2010
Doing the iPod
No, not a dance where you see how compact, thin, sleek and shiny you can make yourself, but a bi-weekly (for me anyway) ritual in which one shuffles about the music on the ol’ iPod from an extensive (see previous post ‘A list of my music’) library.
You see, in my sad little world, I actually look forward to this with earnest, as it gives me a chance to shuffle about what I’ve to listen to over the next fortnight, and get a change from whatever I’ve been listening to over the last fortnight, as I very rarely have the foresight to put a mixture of metals on there, and very rarely anything else – right now I’m all grindcored out from 9 different Napalm Death albums, Genghis Tron, Insect Warfare, Nasum, Phobia, Pig Destroyer, Raw Noise (ok, so crust punk but whatever), and Rotten Sound.
So, I go painstakingly through my library, artist by artist, and pick out any albums which take my fancy, either ‘Ooh, I’m not quite sure what that sounds like’, ‘Ooh, that’s new’, ‘Ooh, I haven’t heard that in a while’ or ‘Ooh, that’s an awesome album, better put it on again’. This is a process which usually takes about 45 minutes, and is actually quite invigorating, believe it or not!
After this is done, I have to see whether my (8GB) iPod would be overfull from the playlist I’ve created or not, and if so, I have to unfortunately go through all the albums I’ve picked, and take some out. Bang, there goes another 15 minutes.
Right now, I feel like something proggy…
You see, in my sad little world, I actually look forward to this with earnest, as it gives me a chance to shuffle about what I’ve to listen to over the next fortnight, and get a change from whatever I’ve been listening to over the last fortnight, as I very rarely have the foresight to put a mixture of metals on there, and very rarely anything else – right now I’m all grindcored out from 9 different Napalm Death albums, Genghis Tron, Insect Warfare, Nasum, Phobia, Pig Destroyer, Raw Noise (ok, so crust punk but whatever), and Rotten Sound.
So, I go painstakingly through my library, artist by artist, and pick out any albums which take my fancy, either ‘Ooh, I’m not quite sure what that sounds like’, ‘Ooh, that’s new’, ‘Ooh, I haven’t heard that in a while’ or ‘Ooh, that’s an awesome album, better put it on again’. This is a process which usually takes about 45 minutes, and is actually quite invigorating, believe it or not!
After this is done, I have to see whether my (8GB) iPod would be overfull from the playlist I’ve created or not, and if so, I have to unfortunately go through all the albums I’ve picked, and take some out. Bang, there goes another 15 minutes.
Right now, I feel like something proggy…
This is the biggest chicken ever lol
N.B. This was originally written on May 8th 2010.
I’m writing this on Word, because my wireless connection, is, so to speak, bloody awful. No matter how many times I disconnect, reconnect, turn off the router, unplug the receiver, turn off the computer, scratch my bottom/head, whichever itches, it simply won’t allow me access to the ‘vast library’ that is the World Wide Web. If anybody else is thinking about connecting wirelessly, don’t use Belkin, it’s a joke, and if I want to use the frankly antique PC in my room for anything that requires the internet, I usually have to ‘borrow’ next door’s wireless. If they don’t have it on, then I haven 15 minutes of fruitlessly trying to connect to look forward to.
But anyway, I want to talk about the election. A hung parliament, as we all expected, and although it would have done nothing but increase Hugh Bayley’s majority, another election that I was ineligible, unfortunately, to take part in. The phrase ‘hung parliament’ conjures one of three, admittedly similar, images; either the House of Commons, Number 10, or Big Ben (I am unsure as to why that one comes into my head, but it does) gracefully swinging from side to side on a length of rope.
More to the point, what it means really is that there’s going to be some sort of Tory influence in Parliament for the next few years, save for the unlikely event of a re-election. Bollocks. Worst case scenario, we end up with privatized healthcare and drastically reduced input into other public services whilst lo and behold taxes are cut – once the deficit has been magically hidden of course – not across the board, but instead for the rich, and sweet Jesus (née Ashcroft) we’re back to the economic exploitation of the fledgling 20th century. To coin a phrase, good times.
The thing is, Brown didn’t do too bad a job. Like Herbert Hoover (awesome name), he walked into his predecessor’s shit and suddenly had a superhuman cleanup job to do (although I’m not sure ability to fly has ever equated to economic prowess). Too lax regulations , both here and in America, on sub-prime mortgages and loans in the early years of the decade and surprise, surprise, a recession. Although as chancellor beforehand, he would have to take some of the blame for it, there probably seemed to be no reason to take any stance but laissez-faire on a growing economy.
Also, we mustn’t forget the man with the eyebrows, sometimes affectionately (although that affection has been growing thin of late) known by the pet name of Alistair Darling, who appeared to do nothing but play the role of a benevolent God whenever the MoD wanted more money for armaments. Fuck it, who needs an army? The hell with the diplomatic flaws with pulling out of whatever ‘axis of evil’ country we’re in at the moment!
Oh, and let us spare a moment to giggle, full of mirth, at the misfortunes of Jacqui, kicked out of parliament (democratically) for nothing but a bit of abusing the system. Right, that’s a moment, let’s move on, and hope she saved enough from her fraud to buy her political career a nice funeral.
So as we look forward to what’s likely to be Pa Broon’s stay of execution, let’s at least condemn Cameron, although frankly he’s not the worst, being almost centrist, (I just used his name because ‘the Conservatives’ didn’t quite alliterate as well) and if the Tories do get more power than they deserve, how about a revolution?
P.S. The title of this post is from the most retarded Facebook group that I have ever been asked to join.
I’m writing this on Word, because my wireless connection, is, so to speak, bloody awful. No matter how many times I disconnect, reconnect, turn off the router, unplug the receiver, turn off the computer, scratch my bottom/head, whichever itches, it simply won’t allow me access to the ‘vast library’ that is the World Wide Web. If anybody else is thinking about connecting wirelessly, don’t use Belkin, it’s a joke, and if I want to use the frankly antique PC in my room for anything that requires the internet, I usually have to ‘borrow’ next door’s wireless. If they don’t have it on, then I haven 15 minutes of fruitlessly trying to connect to look forward to.
But anyway, I want to talk about the election. A hung parliament, as we all expected, and although it would have done nothing but increase Hugh Bayley’s majority, another election that I was ineligible, unfortunately, to take part in. The phrase ‘hung parliament’ conjures one of three, admittedly similar, images; either the House of Commons, Number 10, or Big Ben (I am unsure as to why that one comes into my head, but it does) gracefully swinging from side to side on a length of rope.
More to the point, what it means really is that there’s going to be some sort of Tory influence in Parliament for the next few years, save for the unlikely event of a re-election. Bollocks. Worst case scenario, we end up with privatized healthcare and drastically reduced input into other public services whilst lo and behold taxes are cut – once the deficit has been magically hidden of course – not across the board, but instead for the rich, and sweet Jesus (née Ashcroft) we’re back to the economic exploitation of the fledgling 20th century. To coin a phrase, good times.
The thing is, Brown didn’t do too bad a job. Like Herbert Hoover (awesome name), he walked into his predecessor’s shit and suddenly had a superhuman cleanup job to do (although I’m not sure ability to fly has ever equated to economic prowess). Too lax regulations , both here and in America, on sub-prime mortgages and loans in the early years of the decade and surprise, surprise, a recession. Although as chancellor beforehand, he would have to take some of the blame for it, there probably seemed to be no reason to take any stance but laissez-faire on a growing economy.
Also, we mustn’t forget the man with the eyebrows, sometimes affectionately (although that affection has been growing thin of late) known by the pet name of Alistair Darling, who appeared to do nothing but play the role of a benevolent God whenever the MoD wanted more money for armaments. Fuck it, who needs an army? The hell with the diplomatic flaws with pulling out of whatever ‘axis of evil’ country we’re in at the moment!
Oh, and let us spare a moment to giggle, full of mirth, at the misfortunes of Jacqui, kicked out of parliament (democratically) for nothing but a bit of abusing the system. Right, that’s a moment, let’s move on, and hope she saved enough from her fraud to buy her political career a nice funeral.
So as we look forward to what’s likely to be Pa Broon’s stay of execution, let’s at least condemn Cameron, although frankly he’s not the worst, being almost centrist, (I just used his name because ‘the Conservatives’ didn’t quite alliterate as well) and if the Tories do get more power than they deserve, how about a revolution?
P.S. The title of this post is from the most retarded Facebook group that I have ever been asked to join.
Thursday 6 May 2010
Thick as a sort of small to medium sized book.
Fail. Despite my German teacher telling me afterwards that I 'nearly nailed it', my German speaking exam today was riddled with flaws. Of the sleep deprivation induced sort - getting into the exam room, receiving the question 'Wie bist du gefahren?' and not being able to remember how to say 'car' in German. Somewhat strange that I could remember 'Autobahn', yet not be on-the-ball enough to break it down into its constituent parts.
I blame the Liberal Democrat party, as in a last minute attempt to drum up publicity for my ownr school party (Socialist), against our main rivals, I woke up early this morning to design some posters. Admittedly, I got a bit carried away and decided to design posters concerning every party standing in our little election, all with the motto 'Vote Socialist' at the bottom, in case the reader hadn't quite got the picture, although now, thinking of it, I should have put it in the bottom left rather than the bottom right corner. Still, what's done is done.
Also, I'm not sure whether I posted, undoubtedly in a fit of gibbering excitement, about the (then) forthcoming Deathfest over the weekend. I can tell you now, despite a cold and a headache, it was IMMENSE. Although admittedly it started off with some pretty mediocre crap - The Way Of Purity were frankly laughably bad - it certainly geared up, becoming truly great fun roughly around Infestation. In my mind, the best band were indisputably Negura Bunget, even with Negru's new line up, although mainly that's just because they were a bit different, and I was tired of brutal death metal. Other great performances were Dawn Of Chaos (a nice surprise), Amputated, Wormrot, and Immolation. Both Hour Of Penance, whose sound was obscured by a poor mix, and Brujeria, the headliners, were letdowns.
And then a glorious Bank Holiday! Or part of one, anyway, as a combination of my cold and getting in late meant that I slept in until about 11 o' clock. Then there was Match Of The Day, which was basically my football nerdout session for the weekend. Then? A gaping gap (maybe an unneeded adjective) of revisioooon. Zzzzz. Halb vier? Ach! War ich schlafen? Ach, nein! Muss ich Deutsch lernen! Then we get back to the whole car situation, along with a frankly unremarkable week.
I blame the Liberal Democrat party, as in a last minute attempt to drum up publicity for my ownr school party (Socialist), against our main rivals, I woke up early this morning to design some posters. Admittedly, I got a bit carried away and decided to design posters concerning every party standing in our little election, all with the motto 'Vote Socialist' at the bottom, in case the reader hadn't quite got the picture, although now, thinking of it, I should have put it in the bottom left rather than the bottom right corner. Still, what's done is done.
Also, I'm not sure whether I posted, undoubtedly in a fit of gibbering excitement, about the (then) forthcoming Deathfest over the weekend. I can tell you now, despite a cold and a headache, it was IMMENSE. Although admittedly it started off with some pretty mediocre crap - The Way Of Purity were frankly laughably bad - it certainly geared up, becoming truly great fun roughly around Infestation. In my mind, the best band were indisputably Negura Bunget, even with Negru's new line up, although mainly that's just because they were a bit different, and I was tired of brutal death metal. Other great performances were Dawn Of Chaos (a nice surprise), Amputated, Wormrot, and Immolation. Both Hour Of Penance, whose sound was obscured by a poor mix, and Brujeria, the headliners, were letdowns.
And then a glorious Bank Holiday! Or part of one, anyway, as a combination of my cold and getting in late meant that I slept in until about 11 o' clock. Then there was Match Of The Day, which was basically my football nerdout session for the weekend. Then? A gaping gap (maybe an unneeded adjective) of revisioooon. Zzzzz. Halb vier? Ach! War ich schlafen? Ach, nein! Muss ich Deutsch lernen! Then we get back to the whole car situation, along with a frankly unremarkable week.
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