'Your video recorder was very hungry'
So. I have some explaining to do.
The new journal title: I do still love my Beatles references (and iTunes seems rather fixated with Here Comes The Sun, bless it) but I haven't listed to Strawberry Fields for ages, and this new title (and the subtitle) seems raher fitting. It comes from a poem, and is just very appropriate for my life right now. Add into the mix my tendency to be rather cryptic, and you've got a winner...
The new 'funny bit of text above the journal': There does seem to be a huge amount of rather boring (to other people, not me) teen angst and bounciness, (and, unfortunately, precious little writing) so I changed it to fit. As it says, you have been warned.
The entry title: Alex the Evil Sith Kid (Mostly Retrd.) came round on Thursday evening for a while. There was a rather interesting programme on Churchill on at the time, and his parents wanted him to record it for them, as they were out. Since hooking up to Freeveiw, however, their video recorder has been on the blink, so after despairing for a while, he popped across the road to try us. We managed to record what was going on on BBC 2 and some rather dull static, but that was it, so he thanked us and pressed eject.
No response, so he pressed it again. His video cassette came out - but slightly unspooled and rather mangled. The words were his.
The reason for my rather insipidly happy post: This one is rather more fun.
I could say that it is because we just got a new dishwasher after not having one since January the twenty-second (ish), which is a cause of much jubilation and relief in our household, but it wasn’t.
I could say that it was because I had a thoroughly hectic but incredibly beautiful weekend. (The Parental Units had friends round for supper on Friday night, and Claudia and Kane - two old friends of mine my age - came, and we watched The Incredibles and Lil Sis and Claudia fell asleep under duvets and Kane curled up under a blanket and I stretched out on the new, uncomfortable floor, and it was a very comfortable silence; Saturday was shul and homework, and Sunday was seeing Claudia around lunch time, a four-hour First Aid course, where I saw Rachel and proved just what a terrible corpse I am, and then Meltam at the Deanery, and then a bunch of us went to Pizza Hut, including Rachel and Phoebe, which was most excellent, and we ate pizza and drank Pepsi and constructed palaces of ice cream and sprinkles and sauces and sweets, and I told sneaky jokes and we teased Stephen and I had one of the happiest evenings ever) . The only problem with this is that it is the wrong timeframe; weekends do not usually happen on Wednesday afternoons.
I could say that it was because I have won a prize in my school’s creative writing competition, except this time I’m not that deliriously happy. When I was told I did last time I actually didn’t, and just got a ‘mention’, although Mr Pedroz did give me a prize in the end because I badgered him ceaselessly after he said he would he said I should have got one and felt guilty. But now I’ve got one, even though I don’t know what prize or how much or what for, and I get it presented this Wednesday coming and may read it out or may not. (I do know, however, that it’s for fourth and fifth years, and as I’m in the fifth year, that’s quite interesting) But I found that out on Tuesday, and have been rather British and restrained about it until now, so that’s not it.
(When I find out what piece it was, I’ll post it.)
The real reason is more commonplace than that, and I must take my hat off to the perceptive clepsydra , who guessed it first time round: I have a date. I was incredibly out of character and through sensibility to the winds, and then was somewhat more in character when I completely screwed up asking her out the first time, but I have a date. I am going to see The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy with Rachel in about two hours. And I would say more, except I’ve realised that I need to leave for Meltam right now…