When Marmalade turned ten, mum hired a huge bouncy castle that we set up on the front lawn. It was this great, red and green thing, and all the kids from our neighbourhood came to play on it. In the evening, when it was getting dark, they all went home, but Marmalade and I stayed out, we watched the sun go down while we were still bouncing, and we stayed until it was pitch black, and we couldn't see so we kept jumping into each other.
She's too old for that now of course.
This year, she turned thirteen, and she had a meal out with her friends. Marmalade has an enormous amount of friends. I'm not sure why, but she's charismatic, I suppose. She can talk and talk and talk, and I suppose some people must like that. They should try living with her, and having her talking and talking and talking at two AM when you're trying to get to sleep because you have a french oral the next day.
There were about twenty of them altogether, and I can only think that must have been what hell is like. I mean, twenty of Marmalade's annoying, preening, screaming friends, in one room? They're like those brightly coloured birds that screech at each other to communicate.
I'm getting earache just thinking about it.
Mum didn't want me to feel left out, so she suggested I go out with one of my friends to the same restaurant. As if I'd want to be anywhere near the freak show that is Marmalade and her groupies. The Loudest Show on Earth. Honestly.
I wanted to go with a couple of my friends to the cinema, but they've all disappeared off the face of the planet. I suppose that's an advantage to having bags of friends like Marmalade does, you can always count on at least one of them to want to go out, or to text you back, or to let you borrow their Deadly Nightshade nail polish with the glittery bits inside when you can't find yours. If you're into that sort of thing.
I didn't care though, I mean, mum was at Marmalade's party, and Marmalade was obviously there, but I had plenty to do. Strange how it all sort of got done quickly, even my algebra homework. The house was so quiet, I ended up just sitting by the radio, trying to find a coherent station through all the static.
When they finally got home, I felt so goofy that I ran upstairs and pretended to be doing some homework, just incase they came in to check on me. They didn't of course. It's like, big sis is always fine, she can take care of herself. Well yeah, I can, but sometimes I do like to be taken care of, you know?
Anyway, I heard Marmalade coming up the stairs, she takes them two at a time, at a ridiculously fast speed for someone who was out all evening. I hear her journey across the landing, the soft groan her door makes as she pushes it open, the tired creak of the loose floorboard, and the sigh of her mattress as she sits down.
Why do I have nothing better to do than use my hearing skills to stalk my sister?
I count to ten, so that it doesn't seem like I'm overly eager. Not that I am, a party's a party. I just want to know if she left me any cake. Which she totally should have. And I want to give her my present.
Ten. I sprint to my door, gift in hand, and then oh-so casually walk to her door. As a special birthday treat to her, I knock, instead of barging straight in. I probably should knock more, but barging straight in is a sister's right.
“Come in,” she calls, and I step in, closing the door behind me. Marmalade's still all dressed up, she's shrugged off her jacket, but her hair is in loose curls and she has more make up on that I'd have though mum would let her get away with.
I stare at her for a few moments, a realisation that I have an inability to communicate what I want to say causes a bubble of panic to well up in my chest, threatening to burst out of my mouth in a trail of babbling and confusion.
“Present time! Yay!” She says, knowing why I'm hear by the gift in my hand. She sits cross-legged on the bed, like she's about to start meditating. “Gimme gimme gimme!” She says, hands outstretched. It would be obnoxious, it should be, but it's not, because it's Marmalade.
She tears through the wrapping paper like a starved animal. I tut at her. She growls. Yes, she actually growls. My sister, ladies and gentlemen, a wild animal.
“It's a picture! Of me! When did you take it?”
“Mum took it idiot, I'm in there too.”
She pouts.
“The frame's nice, it matches my room, is it from Dorothy Perkins?”
“No dweeb, it's home made.”
An expression of disbelief.
“You made it? Yourself?”
“No, I asked the fairies to do it. The fairies that do your laundry and pick up your dirty dishes and throw away your Deadly Nightshade nail polish with glittery bits because it's so not your colour.”
She's not fazed.
“You made it for me?”
“Well yeah, it's your birthday isn't it?”
She throws her skinny arms around my neck, right had still clutching the frame, the corner is digging into my shoulder, and hugs me.
I pull back first, unsure what to do in the face of such affection, so I attempt to untangle myself.
“So how was the party?”
“It was alright. My friends were a bit crazy through. Reminded me of that time we went to the zoo and saw those exotic birds that screeched at each other.”
For a twelve- sorry, thirteen year old, Marmalade can sometimes be remarkably astute.
I'm hoping to put these up on fictionpress.com so watch this space for the url, if and when.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Princess Larmalade
When Marmalde was eight, she had an imaginary friend called Princess Larmalade.
It was in the summer holidays before school started, when Marmalade skipped out of the house, barefooted of course, laughing to an unseen companion. We assumed to begin with that it was purely one of Marmalade's newly acquired habits, something that she'd picked up in school until later that evening.
Marmalade, first down to the dinner table every night, drew up another chair before taking her usual seat, and then proceeding to have a conversation with an empty space. The thing was she was under the impression that the empty space was speaking back.
For the entire summer, Marmalade didn't go anywhere without Princess Larmalade. Once she made us wait for Princess before we went shopping, because Princess needed a new dress. When mum refused to spend the exorbitant price on a bridesmaids gown, Marmalade created dresses from paper. Huge paper templates, as big as her, decorated with sequins and paper bows and ribbons. They hung in her wardrobe, next to her own clothes like thin ghosts, shivering constantly in the air currents.
Marmalade took the Princess everywhere, not a second was spent away from her, always whispering something to her, laughing at something she'd said. In the evenings, she'd sometimes come to mum and I to relate some far fetched story about what she and her friend had spent the day doing. It was difficult to discern the truth from the lies, made even harder when she would allow Princess Larmalade to take up the narrative flow, and nod attentively at the silent commentary.
I've never known anyone with an imagination like Marmalade's. Even when she was younger, she used to tell awfully long fibs, it was never a problem though, because she couldn't keep a straight face. She'd bite her lip, and hold her breath, but she could never stop herself bursting into giggles, giggles that made her face light up and her right cheek dimple.
She still does it now, sometimes when she invites friends over, I walk past the room, on my way to get some water or something, not like I'm listening in, and I see them, all clustered around her, listening with dropped jaw to what she has to say. She laps it up of course, never could get enough attention, so she loves it, but, her stories are good. They can start with the smallest thing, and then they get longer, and go on, and twist and turn until you stop caring that she's lying blindly to you, all that's important is to know whether the one-eyed unicorn ever escaped from the Cyclops' lair, or if she learns to love him after all.
Of course it doesn't work on me. There's no use winding me a tale of where the goblins took my comb if I can see the broken teeth embedded in her green carpet, or suggesting that my mascara opened a portal to another realm and got lost there when her eyelashes are practically glued together with the stuff.
Still. It was sort of nice with Princess Larmalade.
She'd even argue with her, dramatic fights that flew from raging screams to the calm silence of the Princess' reply. I suppose that Princesses are trained from birth not to loose their temper. Once, I opened the door (I was going to ask if she'd seen my favourite pen) to a torrent of fury.
“You did, I saw you! Even after I said that you shouldn't! I told you and I told you and you didn't listen to me!”
A breeze flew through the room, ruffling the curtains.
“She did not!”
A floor board creaked.
“Did she? What did she say?”
A look of intense concentration.
A smile.
“That's OK then. Shall I push you on the swing?” And she swept past me, rushing out to play with royalty. Invisible royalty at that.
I actually tried making up an imaginary friend of my own, just to see, but I couldn't fabricate her well enough, and I eventually got bored of trying. I mean, it's not like I didn't have enough friends of my own, I didn't need to make them up.
Marmalade even took Princess Larmalade to the first day of school on a fresh September morning, carefully packing two lunches, peanut butter and jam for her, just jam for Princess who was allergic to peanut butter.
That afternoon she returned, all smiles and new stories and not a word of Princess Larmalade.
I later found the decomposing jam sandwiches, stuffed in her desk next to my favourite pen, and threw them out before it created a super being, part bread, part jam.
I mentioned Princess Larmalade to her yesterday.
“Remember your invisible friend? Princess Larmalade?” I asked, leaning oh-so casually on her door frame.
“I never had an invisible friend. And you're not supposed to just walk into my room, try knocking.”
“I'm not in your room, I'm leaning on your door frame, that's in the hall. I can stand in the hall if I want to.”
“Not leaning on my door frame you can't, there's such a thing as private property.”
“And there's such a thing as not being a brat,” I retort, but I left anyway.
Poor old Princess, it must be hard to be scorned by a commoner.
It was in the summer holidays before school started, when Marmalade skipped out of the house, barefooted of course, laughing to an unseen companion. We assumed to begin with that it was purely one of Marmalade's newly acquired habits, something that she'd picked up in school until later that evening.
Marmalade, first down to the dinner table every night, drew up another chair before taking her usual seat, and then proceeding to have a conversation with an empty space. The thing was she was under the impression that the empty space was speaking back.
For the entire summer, Marmalade didn't go anywhere without Princess Larmalade. Once she made us wait for Princess before we went shopping, because Princess needed a new dress. When mum refused to spend the exorbitant price on a bridesmaids gown, Marmalade created dresses from paper. Huge paper templates, as big as her, decorated with sequins and paper bows and ribbons. They hung in her wardrobe, next to her own clothes like thin ghosts, shivering constantly in the air currents.
Marmalade took the Princess everywhere, not a second was spent away from her, always whispering something to her, laughing at something she'd said. In the evenings, she'd sometimes come to mum and I to relate some far fetched story about what she and her friend had spent the day doing. It was difficult to discern the truth from the lies, made even harder when she would allow Princess Larmalade to take up the narrative flow, and nod attentively at the silent commentary.
I've never known anyone with an imagination like Marmalade's. Even when she was younger, she used to tell awfully long fibs, it was never a problem though, because she couldn't keep a straight face. She'd bite her lip, and hold her breath, but she could never stop herself bursting into giggles, giggles that made her face light up and her right cheek dimple.
She still does it now, sometimes when she invites friends over, I walk past the room, on my way to get some water or something, not like I'm listening in, and I see them, all clustered around her, listening with dropped jaw to what she has to say. She laps it up of course, never could get enough attention, so she loves it, but, her stories are good. They can start with the smallest thing, and then they get longer, and go on, and twist and turn until you stop caring that she's lying blindly to you, all that's important is to know whether the one-eyed unicorn ever escaped from the Cyclops' lair, or if she learns to love him after all.
Of course it doesn't work on me. There's no use winding me a tale of where the goblins took my comb if I can see the broken teeth embedded in her green carpet, or suggesting that my mascara opened a portal to another realm and got lost there when her eyelashes are practically glued together with the stuff.
Still. It was sort of nice with Princess Larmalade.
She'd even argue with her, dramatic fights that flew from raging screams to the calm silence of the Princess' reply. I suppose that Princesses are trained from birth not to loose their temper. Once, I opened the door (I was going to ask if she'd seen my favourite pen) to a torrent of fury.
“You did, I saw you! Even after I said that you shouldn't! I told you and I told you and you didn't listen to me!”
A breeze flew through the room, ruffling the curtains.
“She did not!”
A floor board creaked.
“Did she? What did she say?”
A look of intense concentration.
A smile.
“That's OK then. Shall I push you on the swing?” And she swept past me, rushing out to play with royalty. Invisible royalty at that.
I actually tried making up an imaginary friend of my own, just to see, but I couldn't fabricate her well enough, and I eventually got bored of trying. I mean, it's not like I didn't have enough friends of my own, I didn't need to make them up.
Marmalade even took Princess Larmalade to the first day of school on a fresh September morning, carefully packing two lunches, peanut butter and jam for her, just jam for Princess who was allergic to peanut butter.
That afternoon she returned, all smiles and new stories and not a word of Princess Larmalade.
I later found the decomposing jam sandwiches, stuffed in her desk next to my favourite pen, and threw them out before it created a super being, part bread, part jam.
I mentioned Princess Larmalade to her yesterday.
“Remember your invisible friend? Princess Larmalade?” I asked, leaning oh-so casually on her door frame.
“I never had an invisible friend. And you're not supposed to just walk into my room, try knocking.”
“I'm not in your room, I'm leaning on your door frame, that's in the hall. I can stand in the hall if I want to.”
“Not leaning on my door frame you can't, there's such a thing as private property.”
“And there's such a thing as not being a brat,” I retort, but I left anyway.
Poor old Princess, it must be hard to be scorned by a commoner.
The Marmalade Chronicles
As promised, here are the Marmalade Chronicles. Starting with the first one.
My sister Marmalade is back for the holidays.
She goes to a fancy boarding school because she didn't get on with the kids in her local secondary school. My local secondary school. It was all my fault of course. See, older siblings have long known and accepted the fact that it's always their fault. Instead of Mothers bringing up their children, it is actually the job of the older sibling. Not like in Victorian times when there were eighteen children and an over-worked mother who spent all day making stew and darning ragged tunics, but still, the older child is responsible for the younger one.
As if Marmalade needs looking after. Marmalade just got in one teeny tiny fight, and mum's pulling her out and enrolling her in that posh school. That never happened to me. And I got picked on plenty! There was this time that Melanie Slater stole my favourite lunch box, it had a picture of The Little Mermaid on it, and she stole it and drew a moustache on The Little Mermaid and then the next day I found it on my desk all full of toilet paper.
But did I get transferred?
Oh nooo, not me, not big sis. Only Marmalade, because she's special.
Like I care, I mean, who wants to be going to a snooty boarding school? I'd feel guilty that I was costing mum all the extra money.
Mum doesn't always call her Marmalade. She sometimes calls her “My Little Caterpillar,” which is just gross. It's because Marmalade used to like playing with bugs and stuff, and she made mum get her a green bedspread, and green curtains and a green rug. Again, I'd never do anything like this, because I'd feel guilty due to extra expense, but of course, Marmalade is so self-involved she only thinks of herself. Selfish little worm.
She's back for the holidays, Mum wanted me to go and pick her up on the train. Why should I? I was busy! I have exams! Marmalade is in year eight and she does nothing but mess around and send stupid little notes to her friends, and text her boyfriend.
Marmalade has a boyfriend. It's completely unbelievable. I mean, she's not even pretty. She's OK, if you like the whole long-blonde-hair-little-princess-butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth-thing, but she's so fake it's unbelievable. Seriously.
Her boyfriend's ugly anyway.
I ended up getting her on the train because mum's oh-so-busy, apparently. I got there, and I'm like, three minutes late, and she's standing there with all her suitcases around her.
“Hey Caterpillar.”
“Hey Pig.”
“I am not a pig.”
“Are too.”
“I'm not listening, I've risen above it.”
“As if.” Pause. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too. C'mere worm.”
Marmalade's not bad, for an annoying little sister.
My sister Marmalade is back for the holidays.
She goes to a fancy boarding school because she didn't get on with the kids in her local secondary school. My local secondary school. It was all my fault of course. See, older siblings have long known and accepted the fact that it's always their fault. Instead of Mothers bringing up their children, it is actually the job of the older sibling. Not like in Victorian times when there were eighteen children and an over-worked mother who spent all day making stew and darning ragged tunics, but still, the older child is responsible for the younger one.
As if Marmalade needs looking after. Marmalade just got in one teeny tiny fight, and mum's pulling her out and enrolling her in that posh school. That never happened to me. And I got picked on plenty! There was this time that Melanie Slater stole my favourite lunch box, it had a picture of The Little Mermaid on it, and she stole it and drew a moustache on The Little Mermaid and then the next day I found it on my desk all full of toilet paper.
But did I get transferred?
Oh nooo, not me, not big sis. Only Marmalade, because she's special.
Like I care, I mean, who wants to be going to a snooty boarding school? I'd feel guilty that I was costing mum all the extra money.
Mum doesn't always call her Marmalade. She sometimes calls her “My Little Caterpillar,” which is just gross. It's because Marmalade used to like playing with bugs and stuff, and she made mum get her a green bedspread, and green curtains and a green rug. Again, I'd never do anything like this, because I'd feel guilty due to extra expense, but of course, Marmalade is so self-involved she only thinks of herself. Selfish little worm.
She's back for the holidays, Mum wanted me to go and pick her up on the train. Why should I? I was busy! I have exams! Marmalade is in year eight and she does nothing but mess around and send stupid little notes to her friends, and text her boyfriend.
Marmalade has a boyfriend. It's completely unbelievable. I mean, she's not even pretty. She's OK, if you like the whole long-blonde-hair-little-princess-butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth-thing, but she's so fake it's unbelievable. Seriously.
Her boyfriend's ugly anyway.
I ended up getting her on the train because mum's oh-so-busy, apparently. I got there, and I'm like, three minutes late, and she's standing there with all her suitcases around her.
“Hey Caterpillar.”
“Hey Pig.”
“I am not a pig.”
“Are too.”
“I'm not listening, I've risen above it.”
“As if.” Pause. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too. C'mere worm.”
Marmalade's not bad, for an annoying little sister.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Bobble Gom
So what's been happening this week in the land of all things Sarah? It's been a fairly busy week, but then again, I guess it's been a fairly busy couple of weeks. Today as I was walking out of school, someone asked me what I was doing for the weekend and I was completely shocked, as I was under the impression that it was around Tuesday.
Schoolwise, I've been finding my lessons longer than usual. I think there's some kind of conspiracy to use magnets to slow down all of the watches so that time goes slower than usual. Each lesson is a drag of an hour, I can't remember the last time that I wasn't waiting it out.
On that note, there's revision to be started but I haven't really gotten around to it. I'm going to go to the library next Tuesday night and really get a head start on it. There's quite a bit of work to cover, but I've got about two months which isn't really bad.
This week was mainly dominated by the arrival of the French Penpal DVD. There is a class in a french Lycee, which is now twinned with our school, and so they made us a DVD. We were all mortified to see how well they did there's considering how rubbish ours were. Then there was the whole palava of the penpals themselves. We first decided that I could wait to get mine, so at first I was the girl “sans-correspondant” which was fine. Then one girl, Jessie, was paired up with me, because we are both apparently crazy. All I can say is that they have different levels of crazy in France because that girl is not a patch on me. Our msn conversation was as dry as a taco, so I was surprised the next day, when it turned out she'd added someone else from my school and they'd got on like a house on fire. Therefore I switched from Jessie to Jennifer. I Jennifer, however, doesn't have an email, so I'll be writing to her by mail. I hope she's a little more forthcoming than Jessie. It was a pity as well, because I was very excited about it.
Jess told me that her fish died, which is awful, because they were amazing fish. Aggie did all this decorating, she was a regular..I want to say one of the people from “Changing Rooms” but Jess wouldn't understand that reference, it being an English thing, therefore I shall refrain.
This week, in my frees, my friends and I have been planning a pretend trip to Hong Kong. We're going to fly there on a long haul, then stay in Vicky's uncle's house, which he doesn't use and go everywhere! Vicky wanted to go to Syal, and I wanted to go to Tokyo, so we reached a middle ground with Hong Kong.
For a lot of things this week, I've felt like I'm the one making the effort, and the other person in the relationship isn't responding. The penpal thing is one example, but I also do literacy mentoring, and I bought my mentee this nice folder with a pen and pad to write down new words, and she didn't even seem that pleased. That cost me lots of money!
There's this girl in year eight, who I know, because she is my ex-best friend's little sister. She's really smart, a regular super brain, and she has all these kooky ideas. I like her, but her friends don't really get her, in the way that she doesn't have any. I get that, I mean, in year eight it's difficult. Everyone is at different levels, some girls have matured, some have started dating, and others are behind. She's also not completely mastered the social skills. I don't mean she's no Camilla Parker Bowles, but she's struggling to be a Diana.
I've been going into the library every morning, causing me to be late for registration, to have a chat with Mrs Cox, and find out what is what. We had a good old argument about Prince Charles the other day. To be honest, I'm not so pro-royals, because I don't really think they represent England...at least they don't represent the youth! Maybe Harry and William, but still, they're expiriences are nothing like the average teenager's, after all, the rest of us didn't attend Eton, did we?
I leant someone my security pass this week, and she's not given it back. I'm so making her pay for it. I mean, I'm not spiteful, but you shouldn't borrow something unless you are willing to pay to replace it? Or if not, you should take super good care with it. And it costs money! Such a drag.
This month I've been roleplaying on ue. Is it just me, or is that place kind of dead? I mean, there's no one there..maybe twenty members or so. No new members. I guess because no books are coming out, but I didn't expect it to be so obvious.
Today on the way home from school, I got so happy because I saw the tulip buds forming. That's awesome, because it means that Tulips will be here soon. I adore tulips, they're my favourite flowers, I just know there are going to be some beautiful pink and yellow ones this year..I can't decide if I prefer the hybrids or pure breeds?
What does everyone think about wearing animals? I know it's always NO NO NO if it's a cute little sheep or mink, but today my friend was wearing crocodile skin for a belt. She argued that they weren't endangered, nor does the world need any more crocodiles. I don't think that's the point, it's still ethically warped to kill an animal for fashion. No one else seemed to think it was a bit deal, so I let it drop, but what's the view of the internet?
Arg, mum is nagging, so I'll wrap it up.
I got a volunteer thing in a fair trade coffee shop, which is awesome, and ties in with my hours at the charity shop, so I can go to both in one day, and it's every other Saturday, so no biggie.
Tomorrow there are some science master classes which want me to wake up early! Scandalous. I wanted to go to bed in a minute, but now that mum has told me to, if I go,it would be like I was giving in, so I'll have to stay up, but I really don't want to stay up, nor do I want to seem defeated. Should I sleep with the light on? Maybe not..that's a big waste of electricity. And she's going to hear the bed creak when I get on it. No wonder she bought me such a rubbish matress, it's so that she can keep tabs on me. Scandalous.
Rachel finished reading Twilight, soon it shall conquer the world! Now if only my librarian would order in New Moon!
Schoolwise, I've been finding my lessons longer than usual. I think there's some kind of conspiracy to use magnets to slow down all of the watches so that time goes slower than usual. Each lesson is a drag of an hour, I can't remember the last time that I wasn't waiting it out.
On that note, there's revision to be started but I haven't really gotten around to it. I'm going to go to the library next Tuesday night and really get a head start on it. There's quite a bit of work to cover, but I've got about two months which isn't really bad.
This week was mainly dominated by the arrival of the French Penpal DVD. There is a class in a french Lycee, which is now twinned with our school, and so they made us a DVD. We were all mortified to see how well they did there's considering how rubbish ours were. Then there was the whole palava of the penpals themselves. We first decided that I could wait to get mine, so at first I was the girl “sans-correspondant” which was fine. Then one girl, Jessie, was paired up with me, because we are both apparently crazy. All I can say is that they have different levels of crazy in France because that girl is not a patch on me. Our msn conversation was as dry as a taco, so I was surprised the next day, when it turned out she'd added someone else from my school and they'd got on like a house on fire. Therefore I switched from Jessie to Jennifer. I Jennifer, however, doesn't have an email, so I'll be writing to her by mail. I hope she's a little more forthcoming than Jessie. It was a pity as well, because I was very excited about it.
Jess told me that her fish died, which is awful, because they were amazing fish. Aggie did all this decorating, she was a regular..I want to say one of the people from “Changing Rooms” but Jess wouldn't understand that reference, it being an English thing, therefore I shall refrain.
This week, in my frees, my friends and I have been planning a pretend trip to Hong Kong. We're going to fly there on a long haul, then stay in Vicky's uncle's house, which he doesn't use and go everywhere! Vicky wanted to go to Syal, and I wanted to go to Tokyo, so we reached a middle ground with Hong Kong.
For a lot of things this week, I've felt like I'm the one making the effort, and the other person in the relationship isn't responding. The penpal thing is one example, but I also do literacy mentoring, and I bought my mentee this nice folder with a pen and pad to write down new words, and she didn't even seem that pleased. That cost me lots of money!
There's this girl in year eight, who I know, because she is my ex-best friend's little sister. She's really smart, a regular super brain, and she has all these kooky ideas. I like her, but her friends don't really get her, in the way that she doesn't have any. I get that, I mean, in year eight it's difficult. Everyone is at different levels, some girls have matured, some have started dating, and others are behind. She's also not completely mastered the social skills. I don't mean she's no Camilla Parker Bowles, but she's struggling to be a Diana.
I've been going into the library every morning, causing me to be late for registration, to have a chat with Mrs Cox, and find out what is what. We had a good old argument about Prince Charles the other day. To be honest, I'm not so pro-royals, because I don't really think they represent England...at least they don't represent the youth! Maybe Harry and William, but still, they're expiriences are nothing like the average teenager's, after all, the rest of us didn't attend Eton, did we?
I leant someone my security pass this week, and she's not given it back. I'm so making her pay for it. I mean, I'm not spiteful, but you shouldn't borrow something unless you are willing to pay to replace it? Or if not, you should take super good care with it. And it costs money! Such a drag.
This month I've been roleplaying on ue. Is it just me, or is that place kind of dead? I mean, there's no one there..maybe twenty members or so. No new members. I guess because no books are coming out, but I didn't expect it to be so obvious.
Today on the way home from school, I got so happy because I saw the tulip buds forming. That's awesome, because it means that Tulips will be here soon. I adore tulips, they're my favourite flowers, I just know there are going to be some beautiful pink and yellow ones this year..I can't decide if I prefer the hybrids or pure breeds?
What does everyone think about wearing animals? I know it's always NO NO NO if it's a cute little sheep or mink, but today my friend was wearing crocodile skin for a belt. She argued that they weren't endangered, nor does the world need any more crocodiles. I don't think that's the point, it's still ethically warped to kill an animal for fashion. No one else seemed to think it was a bit deal, so I let it drop, but what's the view of the internet?
Arg, mum is nagging, so I'll wrap it up.
I got a volunteer thing in a fair trade coffee shop, which is awesome, and ties in with my hours at the charity shop, so I can go to both in one day, and it's every other Saturday, so no biggie.
Tomorrow there are some science master classes which want me to wake up early! Scandalous. I wanted to go to bed in a minute, but now that mum has told me to, if I go,it would be like I was giving in, so I'll have to stay up, but I really don't want to stay up, nor do I want to seem defeated. Should I sleep with the light on? Maybe not..that's a big waste of electricity. And she's going to hear the bed creak when I get on it. No wonder she bought me such a rubbish matress, it's so that she can keep tabs on me. Scandalous.
Rachel finished reading Twilight, soon it shall conquer the world! Now if only my librarian would order in New Moon!
Friday, March 02, 2007
Wind's Nocturne
I am very busy, really busy, we're talking two extracurricular activities every lunchtime, sometimes at the same time. Here is a nice video to entertain you.
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