Big Brother for Goats

Today is the 14th October

bigbrotherforgoats — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 21:00:42 +0000

and I’m starting again.

Disinterest

bigbrotherforgoats — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 18:31:23 +0000

I want to get into writing again *whine whine whine*

Realisation

bigbrotherforgoats — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 10:38:29 +0000

I’m not that human after all.

What a difficult realisation to stumble upon. Let me explain.
I’ve always seen myself as a romantic, drifting along the jagged rocks of human emotion, forever in touch with my feelings, even if not entirely sure what they are. Impassioned, if you will: horrified; dumbfounded; fearful… All at the same time! A superficial examination would prove this to be correct for I am a rather emotional person, visibly displaying signs of rage, compassion and all else whenever I am stirred.

However, go a little deeper. Are these signs actually pure emotion? Awakened by random events over which, one would assume, I have little or no control? I’m not so sure. Whenever I find myself alone and bored my imagination takes hold and I wander off into the realms of fantasy. Imagining situations, plausible situations, involving myself and the people around me. These are not simply abstract because I seem to throw myself fully into these imaginary events, bringing me to the brink of hysteria at times, considering how I would react if faced with such an instance and most importantly: how I would feel. Now, I have been lonely and bored on numerous occasions and have envisaged many, many events, constructing many, many emotional and physical reactions. With multitudinous scenarios locked away in my brain box, it’s only a matter of time before one of these ceases to be imaginary and penetrates that veil of reality, and I find myself face-to-face with the beast of my own mental creation.

Which is never nice really.

And despite my belief that I am a hopeless romantic, a locked box bursting with emotions appropriate for spontaneous events, I find myself replicating my imaginary self: a sympathetic glance and pout here, a comforting arm rub there. I suppose a lot of people do this to a certain degree, say you are in a competition that has been whittled down to the final two and you are one of them. In this situation you are likely to consider how you might react if you lose – you don’t want to come across as a sore loser, surely? You want to congratulate the winner and look dignified – and even better, how you’ll react when you win! Without coming across as arrogant you’ll shake the hand of that loser stood beside you, offer a supportive smile, “we both did our best and that’s all we could do…” and collect your prize proudly because you were the better person and you deserve it. We would all want to be in the latter camp, no?

It really doesn’t matter. In both instances I’m trying to look like a good person, hiding any evidence of envy or signs of smarminess. I’ve calculated my response to the nth degree so that no one can see how much of a bastard I can be.

Or perhaps my initial hypothesis was wrong. In our society (yuck, I was trying to steer away from sounding pretentious and if there was ever a phrase that was a defining sign of pretentiousness, that is it) I see cases for constructed response every day. Girls being friendly to one another and bitching about them the second they’re gone – surely that’s some evidence for pre-conceived attitudes?

I don’t want to be like that. I want to be able to express my feelings on a whim; those around me might be shocked or initially appalled by my response but will admire my openness.

… But there I go again.

Oh I don’t know, do I? Maybe yoga will help.

i feel like i’ve licked an iron

bigbrotherforgoats — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 19:38:58 +0000

Day two of self-pity.

I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain I’m in pain.

from the depths of delirium

bigbrotherforgoats — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 12:35:47 +0000

Is that grammatically correct? Oh I DON’T CARE. I have a tiny white pimple sat on my tonsil. Bastard. Ever since I found out exactly what my tonsil was (I always thought it was two dangly things… I was brought up in a Christian household) I have been constantly worried that every tingle at the back of my throat is the dreaded tonsillitis. Everyone had tonsillitis when I was 7. Someone had it FOUR TIMES. It has recently made a dazzling comeback at our 6th form, smacking people in the throat in quick succession. This time it would appear that it is I who is to be the leper for the next few weeks.

I probably have flu as well. Is the flu part of tonsillitis? My heart hurts. I think I have heartburn. What IS heartburn? I ate too many chocolate fingers yesterday and got indigestion. My eyelashes keep falling out. I have an itchy neck. Why not throw the plague into this walking fountain of illness? People will be afraid to look at me in case I release spores.

I’m going to see The Mighty Boosh on Tuesday. I’m worried they won’t top Dylan Moran on Friday; a short but constant giggle-fest in that kind of “random” humour that no one really seems to do better than Dylan Moran. Or Bill Bailey. Or Chris Morris. Or Charlie Brooker. And maybe Steve Coogan. And Frankie Boyle. Oh shut up.
It had better be good. I’m seeing it twice.

Right. Impending head explosion. I have to go to Meadowhall first to buy a coat because I fail to have one that is thicker than a feather.

The Transitive Power of Bullshit

bigbrotherforgoats — Sun, 28 Sep 2008 19:40:18 +0000

I feel sick to my toes. Eating many lemon-flavoured “Fabulous Cupcake”s does that to you. Thanks, Fabulous Bakin’ Boys. Twats. What a waste of minutes this weekend has been! I left the house today and went to Meadowhall, thinking “Hey, it’s a Sunday. It’ll be empty. No need to put any make up on.” Apparently everyone thought that this afternoon. Except the last bit; every girl I saw was caked in face-goo of varying hues with every inch of hair perfectly captured in time with product and lashings of magic. And so forth I ventured to face-goo alley in Boots and leapt upon the Bourjois Paris collection. May Jesus bless you, “3 for 2″ offer! I emerged victorious, blinking in the heat, my hand clutching a bite-size Boots bag.

My new playthings are:

- Bourjois Paris Brush Foundation. That is some top shit. It is vaguely weapon-like; it’s basically a baton filled with creamy foundation, designed to be clicked furiously in order to wheedle a blob out through an attached brush and consequently lashed across the face in glee. Being Bourjois it smells divine, and I have to take care not to get carried away when brushing around the nostril area. The coverage is good enough to make you cry and lasts a good few hours before my face decides to eat it.

- Bourjois Brush Concealer. Fantastic colour but not as appealing smell-wise. It works wonderfully but use sparingly to avoid the reverse-panda look. If you have fine lines around the eyes avoid catching it in them; it highlights rather than hides.

- Bourjois Paris Effet 3D Les Nudes *BREATHE* in Rose Mythic. I could apply this all day. Shiny, soft lips. The tiny brush applicator is lovely for precise application and provides the perfect dose.

I seem to buy a new foundation every other week. I only bought Benefit’s “Some Kinda Gorgeous” a fortnight ago and I’m already bored with it and the shiny bottom is peeking through a patch in the foundation – I haven’t even used that much! – definitely NOT worth my 20 beautiful pounds.

Enough cosmetics speak! I have two fivers on the shelf beside me and I’m already listing possible blusher candidates in my head.

I flunked the assessment we had in English on Friday. Completely. I was all ready to compare two transcripts and then discovered we’d only have to analyse one! And it was the most uninspiring thing ever. I wrote about half a page (when you discount all the scribbles) and it got me so wound up; I found myself sobbing in the toilets. Who cries in toilets? It would appear that I do. Oh fucking hellllll. I’m a Toiler Crier.

Defendable, though! I have researched this bloody topic till my brain would accept information no more! I have a lot to do this year and me failing this has gone and frozen me in my tracks. I can’t let it get me down because I know where that can drag me. I said I’d do it again over the weekend but I can’t motivate myself. I don’t know how to start the thing or how to structure it.

Ah well. I’ll have to start up my breathing exercises again. Jesus Christ.

Let’s rock this shit

bigbrotherforgoats — Sat, 27 Sep 2008 22:21:37 +0000

Oh wordpress I abandoned thee. I have nothing to talk about. I had my eyebrows waxed today. I’m watching Lord of the Rings. I waxed the hairs from my mother’s top lip (for ‘waxed’ read ‘ripped off painfully with boiling goo-splat’). Used the word “bumbaclaat”. Applied for a christmas job at Debenhams. Which I’m not going to get. Ate some melon. Drank 2 litres of water.

Scrambled brain for breakfast

bigbrotherforgoats — Sun, 14 Sep 2008 16:26:32 +0000

I think I fell asleep at half 2 this morning. Ah yes, after Doctor Who!

I have the most awkward dreams. The particular dream I’m thinking of now wasn’t my latest, but from the other night. It’s so vivid I can remember the thoughts and feelings I had during it. I love it.

Note to self: buy The Guardian before 6th form tomorrow.

Cannot get over that picture.

… some kind of alternate reality where people find me actually attractive.

bigbrotherforgoats — Sat, 13 Sep 2008 15:48:53 +0000

I went to a party last night. Armed with £18.30 I stormed to the bar and got 2 bottles of lemon flavoured alcopiss. The first of many. I was feeling pretty good actually, wearing this lovely black almost A-line dress, tights and heels. I left my hair curly and roughed it up a bit with hairspray (I recall one of the first things I said to a person halfway through the night was “I’ve got enough hairspray on my head to kill a small child!!!” and then proceeded to flounce off to the dance floor). I drank quite a lot, in my mind it’s one of those nights where I remember certain events but I can’t remember how I arrived at that moment in time. But everyone was jelly legged and jolly last night and I seemed to have stumbled into some kind of alternate reality where people find me actually attractive.

The buffet was incredible. A simple finger buffet but still, the best I’ve ever had. The sandwiches were divine (jesus christ) and everything that I wanted was just… there. Disclaimer: my judgement may have been partially affected by alcohol.

A great degree of what-the-fuckery took place last night. Allow for me to explain.

My close friend told me he loved me. “Too much” were his words. What the fuck.
I was invited to participate in a threesome roughly 16 times. What the fuck.
Someone’s mum knew who I was. I’d never met her before. She was carrying a large cake. What the fuck.
I got talking to someone who used to go to my school who I’d never really spoken to before. You know what I mentioned before about remembering situations but not knowing how I came to be in that situation? This was one of them. One minute I’m hiding from demands for a threesome and the next there’s a boy sat next to me telling me how he earns £100 a week on his apprenticeship and that he could take me to the cinema if I wanted because he could afford to pay for it. I end up kissing this boy. Not my fault, he was whispering in my ear and then his mouth must’ve slipped. He kissed like a snake with a slug for a tongue. What the fuck.
I was dancing. What the fuck.

The making of the above list has tired my digits so I think I’ll call it a day. I applied for two jobs earlier, I don’t know what part of me thought that it would be a good idea to do so in a still-gooey brain from last night. We’ll see how it goes. Because rejection is just what I need…

Gorgeousness

bigbrotherforgoats — Sat, 06 Sep 2008 20:27:16 +0000

I’ve had a lovely first few days in Y13. No reason to worry or feel like poop, even though the weather’s been insane and thumping us with rain. I’m even motivated to do History work which… rarely happens. Of course it’s early days and it’d be silly to predict the outcome of the year ahead but it’s looking promising.

I have a theory that if you shaved off the hair (or removed the wig that we believe lies atop our head teacher’s head) you’d find the face of Lord Voldemort blinking back.

I mean it really, really wouldn’t look out of place.

Ow, fuck! Monumental earache ripping through my ear canal! Other than that I really have nothing else to say.