Urgh.

Tra la la, I fail at blogs. And geography coursework. I might actually take Ellie's (cough BAD cough) advice and skive a couple of days under the pretences of being sick to get it done. I don't even know. I wish I was more motivated, but I'm really not. I'll be happy if I even reach 1000 words on NaNo, because to be quite frank I don't know if I'm even going to get around to starting it.

Stuff's been getting kinda heavy the last few days; without being too emo about it, there's bulimia, confusion, quite frankly embaressing akwardness (believe me when I say, not even this quiet corner of the internet is safe for me to expand on that), drugs, demoralisation and the sudden realisation that I don't give a fuck about my gcse grades because I don't want to grow up and get a job, I just want to stay me, now, forever.

Going to try and improve my guitar playing, because I can't ever see myself doing anything other than being in a band. And it's probably just going to fuck up my life, and my mother will disown me and I'll never have a nice house or be rich or marry someone respectable. But it's who I am and I need it to have purpose.

Fuck this system. One of these days I'm going to break out.

Tally for half term:

Books read - 3 (A Clockwork Orange, The Wolves of Willoughby Chase, 1984)
Shows attended - 3 (Funeral For A Friend, Funeral For A Friend, Vans 'Off The Wall' music night. You have no idea how much I needed these.)
NaNoWriMo Wordcount - 0
Parties - One fucking epic night in Salisbury. Even Rhys Lewis complimented us on it.

Next saturday's going to be amazing. And according to emily, as long as I speak like a girly russian man at the first signs of awkwardness, nothing will go wrong. She'd better be right.

Note Bene - "Haha nice. I never forget things whilst drunk :)"