Thoughts of an Anarchist

For the past hour and a half I have been fighting for my life. My opponent? Oh, a mighty foe, strong enough to make grown men shrink away in terror, one that oppressed women for centuries; a tyrant the world over, whom everyone fears. Some, they live their lives by it, afraid of making it worse; some try to fight it, to ignore it, but its shadow only looms
darker and larger. And I have been grappling with this foe in the hopes of vanquishing it, but found it to be even harder than I expected, and I have finally escaped breathing heavily, sweating, but safe in the knowledge that I will not need to tackle it again for a while.

I am talking, of course, of housework. Or, as I like to call it, That Which Will Get You Beaten With The Hoover If You Name It. I have been dancing a merry dance with the vacuum cleaner, as it pulls me whichever way it wants to go, sucking up important objects in its quest to make me unhappy. I have been scrabbling in the dust, coughing and spluttering, trying to wipe away every dirty little smear. I have been TIDYING.

Some people like this sort of thing.

Bloody masochists.

I hate colds, because I always get them badly, and then when I come back to college, people say “Why were you off?” and I say “Because I had a cold,” and they give me a look like I am the most pathetic human being in the universe. I CANNOT HELP THAT I GET COLDS A LOT AND THAT A COLD WHICH WOULD GIVE NORMAL HUMAN BEINGS A SNIFFLE MAKES ME THROW UP AND GET DELIRIOUS. HOKAY? HOKAY.

Actually, as colds go, this one has been nice. No vomiting, which is a plus. Nasty heatrash and a minor fever on Sunday evening, and a sore throat today and yesterday, but it is going and assuming no evil additions are made (it would be so like my immune system to turn round and go “HAHA, DID WE MENTION YOU’RE NOW GETTING A SWEATY TEMPERATURE AGAIN?”, because my immune system hates me.

There are some people who never get colds, or who just get sniffles. And I hate staying off college and doing nothing but homework or lying on the sofa feeling useless, because I hate being useless and bored. And I always feel so silly. Yuck.

Anyway. Get over it, Abbi, and go have some lemsip.

For the prom, I wore many makeups, and a pink dress, and high heels…

 

and you know what? It was fun to be someone different for once, like acting a part - except I was so abysmally bad at it, I gave up, borrowed Jimmy’s shoes, and went and danced, and it was great, non-elegant fun.

Sometimes it’s better to just accept that you’ll never be perfect. And sometimes it’s better to pretend.

And sometimes it’s time to stop trying to work out which, and just have an amazing night.

 

And you know, we’re not so bad ourselves, really.

 

We’ve all been through our own hells; we’ve all learnt, all done hard work and had our problems, but here we are; we’re all grown up, there’s a whole world out there just waiting for us, and it’s never mind if we’re ready for it - is it ready for us?

I very much doubt it. Either way, let’s not waste a second.

who can say if I have been changed for the better? because I knew you… I have been changed for good.

Thanks for everything, school.

 

xxx

 I love you.

 

 

that is all.

abs xxxxxxx 

• Marvelled at the sheer audacity of my computer as it asks me, in a condescending way, “Did you forget your password?” Uh, yes, because I don’t type it in several times a day. I’m completely thick. I’ve miraculously managed to forget it in a few hours. It couldn’t possibly just be a typo. Silly me.
• Panicked because my bath last night (Oh! What stupidity it was to take a bath! I’ll never stray from the good path of showers again!) has got oil stuck in my hair and my hair is now greasy and will be unless I stick Volene on it whilst dry and then rinse and then it might get better in a few days. And it is DISGUSTING. Slightly better now.
• Went to Ben’s. Got muddy and covered in shit. As always.
• Watched Ben and Jim have a very Freudian fight with long sticks. And laughed. A lot.
• Said ‘Wank. Further wank.’ into a microphone. Ha.
• Ate pancakes.
• Got frustrated. Not our day today, was it, Mr Jim?
• Read some more Bill Bryson. Many yays.

So, to echo those around me:

SNOW DAY!

I have made a snowman and I need your help in naming him. Any ideas? He is short; his hobbies include wearing stylish flowepots on his head and teatowels round his neck, and being made of snow.  Pengi is also having a thrilling time - obviously this is his natural habitat, and so he and I frolicked in the snow for about half an hour, and made snow angels, snow penguins, and all sorts of things. Wot larks, eh Pengi?

Sliiiiiiide.

Mhmm.

 

 

And my Fizziks is done, I’ve nearly written up my English; life is glorious.

PLUS we get today off in rehearsal.

 

 

Squee! I love you, Mother Nature!

Abs x

Mocks are almost over, just Fizziks to go; I’ve just found out one of my friends hates me, and it is entirely my fault… but it’s always nasty when friendships end; we find out our maths results on Thursday and I’m shitting myself…

And aside from that, there is nothing to say.

Except how great John Barrowman’s voice is. Oh, lordy. 

You.

My Two Front Teeth.

Insert Various Other Song Titles Here.

 

But what did I get for Christmas?

 

A CAPTAIN JACK ACTION FIGURE. THIS HAS MADE ME BREAK MY CAPSLOCK KEY AND I AM VERY VERY VERY EXCITED. DID YOU HEAR ME, MINDEZ? CAPTAIN JACK ACTION FIGURE. THAT IS MINE. MINE MINE MINE.

Erm, yes.

Also recieved:
DW annual and calendar (hoorah!)
A very lovely watch from Jim, which is shiny and has magical pixies in it making the light go on and off.
Things for making me smell of air fresheners and other lovely things (are people hinting at me?)
T-shirt and skirt.
New Scarf, for “When Yours Is In The Wash”. Pfft. As if I’m going to use it EVER.
NEW PHONE THAT IS SHINY.
Makeup and such things.
Books.
Chocolate.
Monkey.
Lots of stripy socks.

Pengi recieved:
“The Penguin of Death” by Edward Monkton, from Sophie.
Some chocolate coins, from me.

 

So, yeah, Christmas was great. Really great.

EXCEPT OH GOD MY FAMILY ARE BOTH MENTAL AND EXHAUSTING. 

Aaaand…

 

SOPHIE IS BACK FROM THE OUTER REACHES OF NOWHERE (BIGGLESWADE)!

Abs x 

 

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the blog
Not a reader was stirring; they were sleeping like logs.
The entries were posted and titled with care,
In hopes that some comments soon would be there.

Stu, Loup and Eiphel asleep in their beds,
Whilst sweet dreams of anarchy danced in their heads.
And Sophie in Biggleswade, and Jim in Swindon,
Were hopefully not noticing the bad scanning in this… poem.

When in all their servers arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.
Away to the monitor, in slippers and socks,
Turned on the PC and opened Firefox.

The blog was updated! A Christmas entry!
They read it with terror (this WAS Abbi, you see)
When, what to their fearful eyes should appear,
But a penguin and Mendel singing Happy New Year!

With a very short reaper, her language so coarse,
They knew in an instant – it was Abbi, of course!
She ran round their rooms, and stood on their beds
Then shrieked – not squealed – and quite hurt their heads.

“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

They looked at her blankly, and asked her quite plain,
“Abbi, my dear, are you sure you’re quite sane?
There’s no reindeer here; I was trying to rest,
I think that you’ve lost it – are you feeling your best?”

And then, suddenly, they were all filled with fear -
To their collective surprise, she disappeared!
As they drew in a breath, and were turning around,
Down the chimney Abs came with a bound.

She was dressed all in red, from her head to her foot,
(Except for the green, and the tinsel and soot!)
A large scary scythe she had somehow acquired,
And she was yelling quite loudly, for her arse was on fire.

Her mouth, how it swore, with fucks and with shits,
Such language not heard since 1966,
When England beat Germany in the World Cup, you know,
And the Germans were cursing in their German lingo.

They each grabbed a fan, and fanned out the flames,
Whilst Ab ran round, a-shrieking their names,
And Sophie disapproved whilst Mindez guffawed,
And Jim, Stu and Loup merely stood there in awe.

With the smoke petering out, they finally gasped
“Abbi, forgive me, but I really must ask,
What are you doing here, and more, I must know –
In spite of myself, OH WHEN WILL YOU GO?!”

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all their stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And, handing them presents and cuddles galore,
She glanced at the chimney – then left by the door.

She sprang to her emu, and away she flew,
(It’s the end of the poem - no more rhyming, yipoo!)
But they heard her exclaim, as she drove out of sight,

Geez, that took forever. Probably won’t talk tomorrow, as it’s finally Christmas - but thanks to those who sent presents and cards and what not. Also thanks to Loup, Eiphel and Jim for their help yesterday - they know why.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, MERRY HANNUKAH, MERRY YULE, MERRY WHATEVER YOU CELEBRATE TO ALL OF YOU.

Have an anarchic one!

 

Much love,

Abs x

Well, nine days to go, and it’s getting to the point where Christmas can no longer be ignored. The time of year when you just have to give in, sing carols, rope a couple of big strong men in to do the lights for you (I had to make do with Jim and Ben instead… ) write cards, and take part in that most exciting ceremony, The Putting Up Of The Decorations and the Dressing Of The Tree.

That happened today, and was great fun. Highlights included me FINALLY getting hold of Doctor Who Magazine, us mistaking Jimmy for a tree and decorating him, dancing round my bedroom to the Chillis, and… yeah, just generally a very fun day. EXCEPT FOR THE TICKLING, WHICH WAS NOT ON. Oh, and also, I am apparently not so heavy Jimmy cannot carry me a short distance, which is impressive.

And there’s nothing to blog about, except this floaty sort of emptiness inside me - like an apathetic depression, but not in an overly bad way, and it’s only happened int he last few minutes, and it’s making me feel quite hollow, and I don’t like it. Whee. Help.