The Just Silly List Begins...

For some reason, maybe after buying one with sheep on it when on a roadtrip to the coast last weekend, I now have a facination with postcards. There was something about the easiness of picking on up in a kooky souvenir shop in a small coastal town and then hanging onto it like a memento of the time we had there that stuck in my mind. How easy is it to run away, travel the country and write a postcard at every stop to whoever back home?

That question gave me the idea for a new story that I’m working on, about what a postcard can say and everything that it can’t say. It also begs the question of who did you leave behind that you need to send the postcards back to back home.

So then I decided to buy some postcards from my own hometown - Bath - and used them as background research; I sent my boyfriend in Newquay one and then wrote on the others what I imagined a person visiting Bath might write. Sounds a little bit stupid but I enjoy the idea of escapism so postcards seem the perfect object to idealise. And if it’s lead to 2,000 words of story so far it can’t be that bad an idea.

It’s a geography lesson and I’ve just scammed the system by managing to get on to tumblr even though it’s blocked. Yesterday I managed to get onto Ebay although I’m not sure how. I think the school’s just slacking off to be honest, and where’s the challenge there?

Yesterday I started writing this stupidly boring document all about just what I was up to at that precise moment, [although it soon led to a rant about how irked I was by the people around me], and thus I decided to never do that again. And yet here we are, with my writing about nothing at all whilst sat in a geography lesson that I have no clue what’s going on in.

But tomorrow, I get to take that beautiful train all the way across the south west coast to Plymouth. It’s so beautiful because at one point the track runs right up against the shore of the sea so it feels like the train is actually travelling over the water. And the best part of the three hour journey is knowing that at the end of it is my beautiful friend [sorry, boyfriend - can’t get used to that] who will hug me and kiss me and then drive me to Newquay for an amazing weekend with him.

The last time I was there [about three weeks ago now *sobs*] Matt [that’s his name if you’re wondering] took me to a layby overlooking the sea just as the afternoon sun was going down, hung low in the sky, and the water and clifftops were doused in a golden hue. And there, my dear chums, he told me that he loved me. And yeah, ok, so I told him I loved him first but there’s a reason for that - he’s always saying all these amazing things about how he feels about me and I’m just there, dumbstruck, saying “me too” because I can’t find any words to reply. SO this time I figured I’d say something to him first so that he’d always know for sure that that’s how I feel about him and that I’m not just saying “me too” or anything.

Anyway, my geography lesson’s over so I’m gunna head on out. Peace, friends, as they say in Newquay town. Oh and apologies for the title ‘this one time’ - I couldn’t think of anything witty so I went for something meaningless instead.

******** x

1.       When the teacher asks for your homework, subtly move her hand slowly over to a piece of paper that looks a little like your homework then, when close enough, quickly move her hand to your bum, look at her in horror and scream ‘sexual abuse’ at her. She no longer has any grounds to ask for your homework on.

2.       If the teacher is married, when they ask for your homework tell her that this is exactly like the time they didn’t invite you to their wedding and then refuse to give in your homework on the grounds that you’re no longer on speaking terms with each other.

3. Stare at the teacher with a smile on your face and nod enthusiastically when asked for your homework. The teacher will then most likely ask you to give it in, at which point you carry on nodding, delve into your bag under the desk as if looking for it and there remain for the rest of the lesson. If the teacher asks if you’ve found it yet, simply pop your head up above the desk, stare at them with a confused look on your face and say nothing. Then return to your position under the desk.

I’m all up for permanently marking our anatomies with overused and supposedly ‘symbolic-at-the-time’ ink drawings, but the thing that really pisses me off is when people don’t even know what their own tattoo says. Be it ancient Greek, Latin or –my personal favourite – mandarin, there is absolutely no point in etching meaningless words into your skin that you don’t even understand. “I know what my ultra-original Chinese character tattoo says!” I hear you say, “It means ‘earth’/ ‘light’/ ‘mountain summit’”. Ah, how very profound of you. Too bad 40million others have that exact same tattoo. If it was written in English it’d look silly – you’d be a fool to have ‘zodiac’ written across your lower back. So why does Chinese make it acceptable? Do you even know what a zodiac is? It’s an imaginary belt extending 8° either side of the ecliptic, which contains the 12 zodiacal constellations and within which the moon and planets appear to move. Now, who wouldn’t want that written permanently on their shoulder?

Having never been a fan of hypocrisy, this is probably one of my most favourite pet peeves – the people that assume that, because they attend church twice a year, this immediately makes them part of the religion and therefore gives them the key to heaven. My advice – don’t be that person driving the beige Volvo that sits of the fence not wanting to offend; either you believe in God and therefore want to go to church weekly, or you don’t believe in God so stop pretending you do.

This blog has offended me.” – What, already? You’ve only read the first few lines! I’m just getting started…I can understand that we should be careful not to outwardly insult people at every opportunity, but it’s when we get all tongue-tied around people of a different race to our own because we can’t remember if its “black” or “coloured”, “Asian” or “Chinese” [although why we would need to state the race to the person we’re talking to, I’m not sure - “Ah hello, I see you’re Asian.”…]. Someone politically minded [Lembit Opik anyone?] should stop the political madness. It’s like when you’re in primary school and someone brings in a yo-yo and a week later every single child has a yo-yo; someone, somewhere, must have got offended irrationally and now the whole world has gone fad-crazy with solutions on how we can avoid that situation ever arising again. And the way to stop the madness? Stop getting offended when someone acknowledges that you’re white, stop getting offended for OTHER PEOPLE [“I am so offended that the disabled person just had to use the wheelchair access – they should be treated equally…”] and stop skirting around the subject – just say what you mean and say it with pride.

This is a post just to explain what I’m blogging about…

First of all, never blogged before so bear with me [no clue who I’m even talking to here becauuuussseee no ones gunna read this but still…]

Secondly, I am easily irked, as many of us are, by the little things in life that I have come to know as being Just Silly. so this here is the start of a never-ending list about things that are just silly.

Thirdly, one day this will be a published book [you can never dream too high…] sooooo you should read it now and get ahead of the game before you have to pay £6.99 to read it.

Forthly, feel free to have an opinion on my opinions, or have your own rants about things that are Just Silly

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