Receiving A Level Results

As you may or may not know, today was A Level results day. Most people who I know are very happy with their results - and congratulations to them. And to you, if everything's gone wonderfully to plan and you're  a happy bunny.

However, please remember that exam results DO NOT PROVE YOUR WORTH AS A HUMAN BEING. At the end of the day it's a small black letter on a piece of paper, allowing you access to universities and Tory leadership. Not everything that is good or useful is measured at exams - and anyone who tells you otherwise is either a conservative dictator or not very good in bed. 

If you didn't get what you wanted, please remember it's not the end of the world. You have time to redo any exams you want, or take new ones entirely  Or you might get a job and find that you actually really like it a lot, and decide not to go to uni and experiment vaguely with your sexuality,  but instead open a dog grooming parlor and marry a Shirley Bassey  look-a-like.

You are worth more than some letters on a piece of paper. Unless you did have your eye on Tory leadership, in which case you may have to rethink a few things. 

A Slightly Delayed Prom Post

“Right then,” Said the photographer. “Girls sand side on, hand on hips. Oh, right, yes. That’s it. Boys, arms folded and stand at an angle good. Okay?”

I raised my hand. “Um, excuse me. Not to be a bother, but what do I do?”

He looked at the suit/high heels combo. “You do whatever you like, love.”

“Oh. Can I pull ninja moves then?”

“If you like.”

So I did. That roughly set the tone for the LMS Year 13 Prom night, at least from where I was standing. After the first glass of wine, I’d for gotten which gender I’m attracted to, and by the second I’d forgotten which gender I am. By the time I’d won Best Dressed Female (possibly the highlight of my life so far, and still did nothing to remind me that I am a woman), everything had got out of hand, and no one was safe. I have to say, I’m still slightly surprised. I’ve never heard of a cross dressing lesbian winning anything at a prom before. And I’m really glad that I did. Not so much for my sake (who am I kidding) but more because it shows what a wonderful place my school can be. We have a bad reputation for how middle class we are. We may be posh as hell, but at least we’re open minded.

I know a lot of people who were at prom read this blog; so thank you. Thank you so much for voting for me, since so many people there genuinely looked stunning. I loved seeing how many people had taken inspiration from The Great Gatsby for their dressed; the amount of sequins was divine.

Thank you to the boy who I’ve never spoken to before, who did a double take, and said “Nice suit. Respect.” Sorry I hugged you. You were not expecting it. And thank you to the girl who told me she’d nearly come with hairy pits, but then decided she didn’t have enough stubble to make it worthwhile. You’re now my best friend. In my head.  I’m very glad (and surprised) that people actually pay attention to the things I write here.

So thank you again, and sorry to anyone who I hit on. I hope you all have a lovely summer. x

The Infamous Ninja Moves

The hell do I work this chainsaw?

Hello Summer

I have now totally, and utterly, finished school. Done. Forever. I had my last exam yesterday, and them promptly shipped out to Hobbycraft to stock up of yarn (the next post may or may not be a yarn haul). I now have a few weeks of total and utter freedom, before I get a job and start working.
And I am so bored. It's been a day, and I've taken up two new hobbies, ordered a new video game, and finished two books. But I miss having an actual thing to work for. I don't function well without work. I'm a little like Sherlock Holmes in that manner. I need work to function. 
But two weeks off won't kill me. I can knit, and read, and roller skate, which I haven't done for months. There's prom to look forward to.
And now, I'm going to make a cup of tea, and go outside to watch the bats flying around, catching their dinner. 
These are the things I've learnt do do, recently.

Replying To A Comment About Lady Fluff

I got this comment on my last post, and I thought I should address a couple of things in it. For one; how every time I get a comment on Anon, I sit there for about half an hour trying to figure out WHO YOU ARE.

So, a few things;

1. Thank you, you cutie. I'm glad at least one person finds me funny.
2. One criticism; my sexuality has nothing to do with whether I shave or not. If I was straight, I'd still have hairy legs. Sexuality and appearance have no correlation, outside of girls are probably a bit less likely to say "You have hair there?" There is, in fact, a spectacularly funny quote from my life which slightly applies to this situation and it is; "You have glitter there?" I'm still at a loss as to how this situation arose. 
3. This comment actually comes at a surprisingly useful time, as I've been wanting to make a blog post for a while about the whole not shaving thing. Which should please my demographic, as apparently nearly everyone who finds me via a Google search, is looking for something related to armpit hair. Th most recent one was "she had too much armpit stubble". I have to say, if that's what you're worried about, then you're probably not in the right place, baby. 

So I've just finished school, and that means that I finally feel comfortable enough so say: I don't shave my armpits. Same goes for my legs. I stopped shaving a couple of weeks before school finished, and I would have done sooner, but I genuinely didn't feel safe going all natural while I was still in that environment. Even though my uniform stopped anyone from seeing my pits/bare legs. I don't know if that reflects more about me, or those who I went to school with. I stopped shaving partly because I didn't like doing it, and partly because I just really wanted to say a big "screw you" to all those who think that women need to shave. Caitlin Moran has a theory that if men aren't worrying about it, then neither should women, so I don't see why I need to get rid of my body hair to please anyone who isn't me. We're told from the minute we're born that it's disgusting to go without shaving; when I left primary school aged eleven, two girls from the year bellow drew hairy pits on my shirt as a prank. They were ten; they didn't even have any body hair to remove, but the idea of letting it grow out was disgusting, and unnatural. 

Let me get one very important thing straight: if you decide to shave then I AM FINE WITH THAT. The thing I am not fine with, is that women feel the need to shave to please society. Not even an actual person; just society as a huge, pulsating, glowy whole. (In my head society looks a bit like the Living Plastic from the first episode of Doctor Who with Christopher Eccleston.) That's not cool. However, if you want to shave because you feel cleaner, or enjoy, go for it. Knock yourself out. Don't shave to please people, but at the same time, don't not shave to please crazy hippies on the internet. Make your own decisions, and be damn proud of them.

I still get freaked out when I go outside and I think people can actually see my body hair. I've got it into my head that at some point, somebody will beat me up for it. Which is pretty much how I felt when I came out; just waiting for someone to start being downright vicious to me, about something that doesn't involve them. I go swimming sometimes, which is scary as all hell. I wore a shirt the other day that I thought covered my armpits, but later found out that when I waved my arms around (which I do a lot) there was a flash of fluff. I deflated a lot. 

So to summarize; please don't beat me up, I like comments, and either shave or don't shave idk whatever suits you, dude. 

Rock that armpit stubble.

Now let's never talk of this again.

This Is Procrastination

I am currently a gremlin in a reversal of evolution. My room looks like a highly poetic hermit has moved into it. The floor is now entirely made up of mugs, biros and post it notes. Revision is setting in, hard. Over the last few weeks, I've watched teachers stop begging for essay to be handed in, and start drowning under small mountains of them. I've gone from being the student who often forgets homework (and usually does it badly) to the student who follows teachers around going "HAVE YOU MARKED THAT MOCK YET?! HAVE YOU?! DO IT NOW. LET ME WATCH."
I've found a website called Coffitivity which plays the noise of a coffee shop while you work, which is making me a little bit saner. My caffeine intake has gone down by half since the ladies who work the snack bar refused to sell me tea due to how wrecked my dinner card is. I quite like coffee shops, but tend to avoid them as much as possible due to how bloody expensive the tea is. In the 1920's, a cup of tea would usually cost you around 5d, which converts to around 45p in modern money. I realize that inflation rates are much different now, but I'm an English student, and I find counting hard. Even so, this is a drastic difference, when last time I was in Costa, a pot of tea (two small cups) cost £1.70. Even in Berlin where the tea was slightly wank, the it only cost around 80p. Hum hum hum. I would be grateful if the Government stopped coming up with silly new taxes for five minutes and instead capped the price of tea. I am poor and cannot afford it (unless I make a flask of it to carry around, but as if I'd ever be that organised.) 
I think my favorite change in school routine over the last few weeks, is how much the teachers are coping with our, frankly, awful language. In English today, it became acceptable to yell "This child is a goddamn bag of dicks" very early on. With the announcement of a timed mock, it is now fine to just scream "NO" for several minutes straight. I'm not sure if it's a mark that the teachers are just as frustrated as we are, or if they could, actually, possibly, be sad at us leaving. I like to think it''s a little bit of both. I know I'll miss them. The last week has been a series of "Right, how much cake do we want in our last lesson?" and plans for who's going to bring in Articulate. I've had the lady who helps me run LGBT society run across the front of school to give me a hug and tell me I have to come in after exams for "A real party. With biscuits."
It's all just getting very... end-y.

Contemplating The Idea Of Home

At the beginning of the last episode of Wonders Of Life, Brian Cox said something rather... well, wonderful. He said;

"Home is such an evocative word, it will mean something to you. The place you went to school, they place you live, the place your kids had their first Christmas."

And it got me thinking. Home means a lot to me, and it always has. Home is where I am safe, ready and prepared. My home is like my base, it's clean, and settled. It's the place where I want to return to after a long day, or a night out. Time away from home makes me appreciate it all the more. 

So, I asked myself, what do I class as home? I have at least two actual buildings which I could class as home - where I live. I love school, but I wouldn't say it was the place where I was safe, ready and prepared. And obviously it's not going to be where my kids had their first Christmas. I don't have any. That's just Brian Cox rubbing it my face that I'm not part of his target demographic. 

After a lot of long, intense thinking (it was literally about three minutes), I came up with only one solution. 

Home is where your knickers are.

My Life Would Be So Much Easier If I Just Didn't Have Lungs

I'm ill, and it sucks. I hate being ill, because I do little enough at the best of times, but when I'm ill, my productivity drops below freezing. Actually, I just came up with a good system: from now on I shall measure productivity in temperature.

Anyway, I am ill, and I have so voice, which sucks balls, because this week alone I should have three drama lessons, one singing lesson, one elocution lesson, and one goddamn drama exam, which I now probably won't be able to do, if I can't talk by Saturday. Ew.
Plus, I missed media yesterday, which is always a downer, because my media teachers are incredible (especially MH, becuase unlike most teachers, he actually seems human, and isn't afraid to bully me, and accept to be bullied back).

Speaking of teachers, we had a fire drill the other week, while HB and I were doing some work, so we trudged outside, and I shoved my hat on, because it was freezing. As soon as it was over, we decided to go get a cup of tea before going back to work. I figured that since we'd only be inside for about five minutes, I'd leave my hat on, no one would care. Wrong, one of the teachers told me to take it off, and told me to not wear it again (it's against uniform rules). I said yes Sir, sorry Sir, because I'm a good student (honest). Then I saluted him. Because I'm a dick. Now he's out for my blood. 
We told MH about it later, and he made me fall off my chair, because I was laughing too hard at him skipping around the room singing about capitalism. I love school. 


Things I love while I'm stuck feeling sorry for myself:

Salvador Dali Eating A Bowl Of Surreal 
This Bat Skeleton Tattoo
Map Of The Roots Of State Names, Translated Into English
Knickerocker

Check out my tumblr

The Gym

I've joined a gym.

I say joined... been to.
I say gym... collection of tatty weights and treadmills in the attic of the school sports dept.

But I've been twice (With JW) which makes it official. I go to a gym now. More or less.
The first week was honest-to-god terrifying. When we got there, there were already a couple of girls doing cardio, both who are known as being kind of fitness freaks. Still, we did our stretching, and hopped on the cross trainers, did twenty minutes, hopped off, stretched, did some weights. Enormous sense of self-gratification.
The next week was also honest-to-god terrifying. This is due to Boys being there. Boys are scary. Anyways, they were skittering around doing 'weight lifting' (they weren't very good). I don't know them very well, so I automatically went into 'I must be better than them' mode. By the time they left, I had done 20 minutes on the cross trainer, 20 minutes on the treadmill, 50 curls with 5kg, 40 lunges with 5kg and had got my forehead to touch my knees with my legs straight.
I nearly fell asleep in my next lesson.

Back To School

I'm finally back at school.
This is my last year at secondary school, where I will finally sit the exams that will (literally) decide what I will do for the rest of my life.
Scary, huh? Tell me about it.
For anyone who's interested, I'm taking Media, Drama and English Language, which makes me sound like a tit retard up-my-own-arse mofo.
Which I am.
But to be honest, I really, really enjoy it, because it gives me chances to do things like pretend to be the plague, and show of my unreasonable knowledge of Marxism, and write essays about knitting. Yeah, I think I'm doing pretty well for myself.
I'm already pretty tired, on top of school work, I'm also doing the play, which is amazing, and getting ready to do my Speech And Drama Grade 7 exam. I'm going to perform The Raven, a monologue from Midsummer Nights Dream, and the introduction to Pirates, an Adventure with Scientists, because I'm strange.
I've finally started using the school gym...

18/06/2012

I went for another walk! Yay! (And my hay fever was so bad)
Went walking over the hills with mum after dinner, probably about two miles again. Knitted another hand warmer, my first Hawkeye one, then spent my even spamming Ravelry. Yay, yay, yay.
Spent my afternoon being bullied by Mrs W, for knitting in her lesson. I tried to convince her that it helps me concentrate, but she's having none of it. Mrs S has also started treating me like a new drama dept. pet. The headmaster came to watch our drama lesson, and he came in while I was the only student there, sat on ther floor knitting. Mrs S introduced me as 'the eager one'.

Black Widow handwarmers! Now totally finished :D

Close up of my finbonnaci Loki Scarf