Boy Bewildered

It's snowing (isn't it wondrous?)
For half a moment, which really isn't much at all, my North London street is white. It melts of course, leaving shit-smeared suburban streets.

Snow might be my favourite thing (ever). When I was sevenish, I lived outside Chicago and there was record snowfall. Bulldozers piled it up in the car parks, leaving man-made hills. And the awesomest of all the man-made hills stood, glaring over our whole town. Purpose-built for sledding (literally).

Does praying to nothing help? Nothing, please give me snow... Please?

She loves me

She does, really deeply does. Love to the point of rash proposals and midnight vows. Staying up stupidly late (with stupid consequences), promising things and listening and snuggling up. If we were older, would you marry me? I ask it with nonchalant sincerity. She replies yeah, indignantly.
She got hilariously drunk too. To the point of forgetting times tables and how to count or stand. It was funny, especially when she was too confusled to lie about hidden rivalries. The truth rushing out in 5 year-old syntax.

Yeah, tricks were played on her as well...

A lovely half term it has been, except for the inexplicable difficulty with condoms. Now we're just hoping that the dice'll fall right, and that everything is consequenceless...

I had a post and it went, thanks to me (although it'd be easier to blame blogger).

I can't write long, but earlier I tried to say that I had cyclopean pain in my head, that I was withdrawn from Daphney and that I needed to sleep early.

At the moment I'm just waiting for my watch to come back to me (I couldn't have lost it down the plug), considering the leftover homework, and thinking about my future, pipe-dream 'Americas Tour' with Marigold.

She's getting my initial on her foot in Mexico she says, and I reply that I would gladly have her letter on me. Somewhere secret though, I tease.

We're best friends, you know. Not an eighth of attraction between us, but we love each other. We'll be friends forever, she says, and I have to agree. She's funny, bold and safe. She knows when to stop, when to stop trying, and when to stop trying to stop.

Aaagh. My head doesn't agree with sentence formulation...

RIP that old post, but... It's not like you've missed anything.

Tomorrow night's about old friends and future plans. Marigold's crazy about our 'Americas Tour' for 2006, after school is done forever for me. And Daphney may well be coming to America with me this year, with my family.

We'll get mildly pissed, I guess. My hair's so long...

Tonight's wistful, slightly hazy. I can remember about half a page of my German when I need to know two.

I'm yawning and missing Daphney. A 5 day binge on her makes withdrawal symptoms worse. She leaves a pain under my ribs, and tears below my skin. Squeeze me and they'll fall out...

Anyway, the cyclopean pain behind my forehead means early night, after cleaning...

Ok, I lied.

I'm sitting here scared. The internet lets me go farther into myself than I wanted. Idle browsing shows purpose over hours of idle amusement.

Every link clicked lets the computer know me better. I've read and read, and my head hurts from knowledge, fear.

I need someone to hold onto when I'm like this. No one's close enough to anchor me to the real world. Only my eyes resist the melding with the computer.

Sometimes the computer's conspired against me, I can tell. When that track comes on as I'm reading the story the computer knows I'll love, I become so involved I'm out the other side. The gravity of love means I'm trapped.

Antimatter? Maybe God's antimatter. The other half of it from the very beginning [of time]. The meeting of the two a sweet oblivion. Heaven or hell?

Hey,
I've been away from here for a longer time than I had planned, but.
I'll be sporadic I think. I think I've lost something.

I'm trying to work through papers and papers of German and chemistry and maths.

I've forgotten how to write anything that doesn't come in the form of a chemical equation or that's not stupendously boring. I can't write like anyone I admire. Nothing here seems to be real.

I'm bored of my self-importance. I'll probably still write though.
It's just deserted me at the moment.

I'm clearing stuff up, moving into my room. Making it my space for the next however many years.
I've found photos and a note telling me the counselors in the summer were there if I wanted.

On the other hand, I've got massive speakers :)

Is it Thursday already? Oh well..

My coach driver thinks I'm gay. Not that it's uncommon, but still. He picked up his friend on the way, and the guy talked about 'faggot clubs'. The driver corrected him: 'mate, they're called gay clubs'. Fair enough I thought.
Inside, he pulls me over: 'Fran, I'm sorry about what he was saying. He didn't know'. I stood confused for a minute, then accepted the odd apology and sat down and realised what he meant. I don't really mind, but I still think it's bizarre to assume something like that.

Marcia (over on the linkbar) is about a two people chain away from me. My anonymity is about as effective as a window. Don't care that much, I suppose. Isn't it the secret dream for someone to find you out?

Which reminds me, the reason 'Educating Hercules' has disappeared is because A) it got boring and B) she started posting pictures of her kid. I don't want to know what he looks like. In my mind is where he should've stayed, however I wanted him. The point is, I couldn't care less now.

What else? I've been working. Developing study habits that would disgust me if I met myself. Too much work gets done.

What makes me happy is pictures of happiness. Photos, images, drawings. Anything.

Valentine's day, of course, is around the corner of the weekend. What shall we do? Suggestions? It's easier to make a not-to-do list, of course. But I want it to be nice, more than most of what I've ever wanted. I've never had a Valentine's day before. I know what I want secretly though. I want her all to myself, all day, and I want her to want me more than that. If I can smell the lust in her eyes, and if she crawls up the bed looking ferocious, only to kiss my stomach. Then I'll be happy. (I wanted a girlfriend so bad for so many years, and I have one now.)

Last night's dreams were fucked up. I remember getting money for nothing, and then my dog attacking someone who I then pummelled. Two men tried to deceptively steal the money.

My eyes are about to retire. I hope I have time for you over the next few days.

Woah. Sit down.
I searched the house for ten minutes. She didn't say she was going out. Mum? MUM! Hello?
I got so nervous, I'm flushed as the t-shirt I'm wearing. I checked her bathroom like I walk around the corner to my bike. The same tearing sense; 'will it be there?'.
Her body wasn't there.

It isn't anywhere (of course). I'm just jumpy. Other people are home now.
Calmer...

My hair is practically long enough for me to tie back into a ponytail. My friend is almost definitely joining the army. He has to do 1.5 miles in 9 minutes, effortlessly complete 50 sit-ups and 50 press-ups and then chin-ups.

At fencing, his job's being taken over by someone who's not me, which I regard as a personal slight. He won't be going for a couple of months though.

Oh, what's with me? I'm fine one minute, turning the volume way up and letting the song carry me off. And the next song crushes me back, making me feel like I can't keep track of my mind. Parts of it go in each direction, until I'm a fisherman with 6 reels, all squiggling with bites. This gives me difficulty; I've never been fishing before.

Haha... (Not.) What I want to do at this minute is to get lost in the bass at a gig, feeling it vibrate my legs and feeling all the people swarming around me and her, as I hold tight against the tide.
So instead, I'm turning up the volume and hoping none of the songs find me again. I want to lose everything in the music.

I can't even think, but I totaled up my homework and estimated four hours of concentrated learning (I think about concentrated acids, and know that acids that are strong dissociate readily into their ionic constituents). Chemistry is taking over, because it makes me work.
The other day we saw orange peel boiled and distilled into limonene (which is an alkene, you know?) It smelt of orange.
Maths is losing my interest because I don't want to 'explore' every lesson. Exploring means fucking around, and sometimes I just want the material alone, in exam format.

Anyway, tonight I'm going to put those four hours in (I hope). It's my mother's birthday soon.

This year will be my first Valentine's day. Last year she (Daphney, not my mother) was away, and I pined. I know it's made up, but so what? Everything is in some way. Every abstract concept.

I want to ignore homework and just coach fencing for hours on hours. Bye!

The library gave me more terrible CDs, but at 30p for two weeks I don't care. I forgot to hand in the slaved-upon chemistry, so tomorrow will involve early entrance to apologise and acting tired enough to be pitied.

I was up past midnight trying to understand which part of the German made sense, failing miserably. But oh well.

Tomorrow I'm going to plan my weekend. Tonight I'm going to continue my virtuous run, and finish more homework.

Night.

I'm going to whine now, because I miss English and my stomach's constricting just thinking about it.

At the beginning of the year, I lined up all my subjects (approved by the head) and felt gaps everywhere. Only five subjects?

I picked according to teachers and the wishes of others I vaguely felt. My parents told me to take English, I think, but I thought teachers knew best. I took German on loyalty to the teacher I no longer have. I took maths because I could. I took physics on loyalty to another teacher I no longer have. I took chemistry because I had to, to keep the door open for science. (I know that's four. I chose maths twice).

English was gone, because my last teacher was crap and I'm weak. I felt the pangs in the first few weeks, and ignored it because I thought it would pass. I'm still feeling it now, worse than ever.

Education, education, education... That's only three things. I want to study the world! Let me out of the system, please. I want to study Milton next to particle physics. To be still pondering the astoundingly numerous uses of trigonometry while learning about Edward Hopper's contribution to American art. To debate chemical laws and follow it with socio-political thought.

A little learning may well be a very dangerous thing, but hardly as damaging as a lotlotlot of learning about one thing only...