How freaking Awesome! My first bog award! It's from an amazing blogger called Kate. Check out her Blog 'Diamonds and Coal', she is an inspiring writer.

Apparently I have to write about my five 'guilty pleasures'. So, voila, here they are:
1)"Ben and Jerry's" in Bed (preferably "Phish Food". The one with all those yummy chocolate shaped fish.)
2)Painting
3)Getting very dirty (In the literal sense)
4)Spending more money than I actually possess (but I really, really needed those gorgeous red shoes!)
5)Singing. Out of tune. I am the Leona Lewis of the shower.
 

I also get to pick six of my favourite bloggers, so as to spread the good word of "Irresistibly Sweetness". These women are truly excellent writers, so please, take a look at their blogs.

autumnesf at Autumn Asks Why

Baglady at Bag Lady

Daydream Lily at Daydream Lily Blog 

Mandy's Kidding at You've Got To Be Kidding Me

Heather Cherry at The Open Letters Blog

And finally, The Barreness at The Barreness , alas not "Irresistibly Sweet" is interesting. Not for the faint of Heart though.


Thanks guys, for reading. Thanks, Kate, for the award. It was sweet of you.

Here comes the Rain....

Some of the worlds most beautiful things can been seen reflected in the rain. A forgotten word or place. At first sight, it appears blue, and then opalescent. Often it is possible to see your own face, aged though it may have become. Or another face, best left secret and unseen. Rain brings back everything, washed and perfect and new. That is why I revel in it.

Everybody has secrets. Little secrets. Big secrets. But they do not always equate to lies. Do they? Unless you tell them what you mean, falsely. Me and my friends don't have that problem. We do not talk, really talk. That is why I long to scream in the middle of class. But that is not their fault, it's mine. My whole life amongst my friends amounts to little more than a concentrated web of complicated origin. So, here it is (the truth *Gulp*)...

I love marmite, especially with ham and toast. I hate liars, deceitful people (and therefore,by default, sometimes myself). I love the smell of oil paint. My favourite sweets are Rowntree's fruit gums. The TV show I like most; The Simpsons, with Ugly Betty a close second. I don't like Manga. The most influential person in my life is my strange little brother. When I was little, I wanted to be a ballet dancer (but gave up because I had the grace of a baby elephant). Now I want to be a Journalist (but this changes hourly). I weigh about ten stone(ssssshhhhh). When I'm old enough, I want a fully fledged motor Bike (not sure what kind yet) and a tattoo of a bird on my shoulder. I really, really don't like my seemingly over large thighs (they make me self conscious). When I loved 'Scooby Doo'(not much changed there...). I love to read. 

The fact that I have spent time deducing what I do and do not like may seem a little pathetic to you. It is. But this is one of those times when I need Truth, rather than Lies, or even pretense.

Old(er) Things...

People in my generation do not listen to the 'Talking Heads' or 'The Beatles' or even 'The Smiths'. They listen to 'Justin Bieber' and to 'The Jonas Brothers'. This is depressing, especially considering the situation in which we (students) are meant to discuss music (in School). It is not possible to be 'popular' while you listen to bands like these, despite their awesomeness. They instantly qualify you as a Freak. Sometimes I compromise and listen to 'Evanescence'. But in what reality can you pretend to like something so....annoying as Justin Bieber's squeaky little voice?

In one of my favourite books, 'Revolution' by Jennifer Donnelly, music symbolises something more than life itself. Hundreds of years are preserved in music, but it takes us that long to really appreciate the very words, and the  pulse that accompanies it. The main character 'Andi' describes herself as 'battery acid', she is a character that I can sympathise with. She plays guitar, plays until her nails bleed, until her mind is enveloped by the music and nothing else. Not blood. Not death. I find myself wishing that I could put into art what she puts into music. Soul.

Sorry, back to the subject, 'Old Things'. No one watches old movies anymore either. I find myself talking to air when I try to discuss the complex (and not so complex) feelings hidden within 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' Holly Golightly. The old movies are pretty fabulous, no Red Carpet like them. Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, Ava Gardner, Grace Kelly and the rest of those beautiful actresses, were amazing. Not to mention their outfits. I mean, Phwoar, what I wouldn't trade for a Vintage Givenchy Gown (yes, I would trade my own mother). There will be a 'Old(er) Thing' come back, at least I hope so. All the designs back then were so very elegant.

Go play with your Crayons.....

Kids can be cruel. That is a common phrase among adults. Today was just another day. German Oral exam, blah, blah, blah. Anyhow, it was not until the afternoon, when a sandwich bomb landed square on my blazer that things really started to go to Hell. Yes, I was less than amused, but now I realise that that part of my day was really quite funny. The next part, not so much. So, this group of guys in my English class, decided it would be fun to make some random girl cry. That would be me.I fell for it. My angerducts are connected to my tearducts. The stuff they said upset me. But only because I allowed it to. I am usually in tight control of my emotions, but today it was all too much. I cannot deal with pathetic little children and waking up at 5:30am (to go to the Gym). I was so tired, and therefore not in the mood for any kind of confrontation. My anger got the better of me. Next time those boys choose me as a target, there will be Hell to pay. And not in the way they expect. Being a goody-two-shoes has its advantages.

Hey, life goes on. There is this movie I want to see with my mates at some point (if anyone actually wants to go), called 'The Black Swan'. If anyone reads this and could comment (good or bad) on the film, it would be great if you could write about it below.

All Things PINK!

I yet again embark upon my search for a prom dress. I have given up looking on sites which actually center around prom dresses, instead I flit across sites like ebay and amazon, praying to find something NOT pink and puffy. No luck so far. Laugh if you wish, but sometimes something so frivolous as a high school prom can take a mind off of exams. The whole thing is cheesy and very overrated, therin lies the fun. The explosion of random sequins is reassuring.  The amount a girl could spend on a dress could fund a small country for a few months. This helps me keep things in perspective. I can separate the important from the ridiculous.

Excuse this Depression

Sometimes I worry that I have the same conversations every day. My life is so formulae that it could have been pre decided upon by some exceptionally sad bloke with absolutely no taste. At school, my smile never reaches my eyes anymore. Words come out, but I cannot feel them on my tongue. Sarcasm is frequent in my voice. Some would praise my sense of routine. Others would politely request that I get a life. I need a bad habit; to start drinking volumes of tequila or to simply roll hapless in the mud. I feel too clean. I have the urge to paint my hands. Everything I say incurs new thoughts (and evidence) of embarrassment, That very embarrassment is scalding.The heat of it burning through my clothes. Through that perfect facade I must continue, not through any real wish of my own, but rather through instinct. I try to avoid situations in which I may embarrass myself. As a detrimental result people perceive me to be boring. Sometimes, like now, I feel like an empty shell of myself. Weak, yet at the same time stronger than tempered steel. She is inside of me, she comes through my eyes; the eyes of a ghost.

Occasionally, I have the absurd desire  to be five years old again. Where and when I was not surrounded by teenage pretentiousness. By this I do not mean my friends. I so miss those days. Days of clay and mud, of paint and my imagination. But in its own way, five was hard. I had to accept that, in those years, although my childhood would not define me completely, it would have cause and effect hidden in the palm of my hand.

Reading this over has made me realise how very stupid it all sounds. My life really is not that bad. In fact, I barely ever have any time to be bored. I swim, I paint, I read. A lot of creative output. Perhaps I need another hobby. Perhaps boxercise, to take out my anger on those more disposable than those around me.

A is for Artichoke

Hurrah, Whoopee, Huzzah!! Finally the horror of the Maths GCSE is finito. No more long division for me! I have also completed my English GCSE, so there will be no more (infinitely depressing books) for me. I can now be a complete soul, living without material goods. Where is my chocolate?

Why couldn't I have been a only child?

Here is an incredible revelation, I want my parents undivided attention. I want the luxury of bra shopping, unmolested by younger children. The luxury of clubbing without my big (smirk) sisters attendance. I wish. It will never happen.

Highway to Hell (aka School)

Have you ever stopped to inhale, in just some random place? I associate various smells with various things. Strange as that is. Primary School triggers memories of really terrible school dinners. Having to face day after day of aesthetically deformed food eventually took its toll. An over active imagination matched with a terror of lettuce equaled some pretty scary dreams. Now days the smell tends to be much more satisfactory.

Yet that doesn't seem to lift the depression that is achieved by simply being in school. Being a busy person, having something to do makes my day that much better. But I would rather allow myself to be caught and eaten by cannibals than do long division. hhmmmm. My Maths teacher seems to be in desperate need of a reality check. I could make some pretty startling revelations to him a)WE HAVE CALCULATORS b) Ties with fish on them are not going to gain any respect from a group of teenagers.

This situation is not helped by the almost constant homework load bestowed upon us by our enlightened Teachers. The most frightening prospect that has launched itself upon us is that they (by which I mean the Science Teachers) plan to teach about formulation of atomic bomb structure. Is this a seriously good thing to teach the futures, well, adults (I use the term as loosely as possible). I think not.

Sometimes I wish for a real work experience, but then I remember my parent's harassed faces as they roll in from work. Maybe I'm not ready for that yet, but beware, I will be. Back to long division.