xso here we go again with the beats...X
been in London for what would seem forever,
had my phone and ipod stolen from my room last night,
friendly fucking city like.
uni in general is fine when i go, got some assignments due in, but
well lets just say London isn't actually paved with gold and
the levels of maturity im surrounded by depress me.
the people i've met are average at best and i just wish everyone else was with
me here so it wouldnt be so mediocre.
i havent written in this thing for bloody ages so i might as well bring everything
up to speed.
the problem here is my electronic footprint, orwell didnt have to think about this but well i can always play the gonzo card and pretend whatever i write is souped up.
yes tash what the hell are you on about now, half two int he morning you've become a nocturnal creature through the sheer speed you've been living at. knowing that if you read back a few entries you'd develop a nervous twitch(maybe to give yourself that special edge?)
anyways london, i live in a royal borough called kingston, named because it's where the kings used to come to be crowned...fantastic, all it means in todays terms is everythings more expensive, the houses are extravagant and everything's so bastard congested.
Clayhill, where my 'student village' exists is surrounded by a graveyard to the left, facing a water treatment works, to the right a railway line and we're actually built on one of the old black plague burial sites, to make things furtherly exciting the buildings are made to the stats of a prison. c'est deplessiante.
ummmm, the talent....non existent...the ones that do exist are tainted as soon as they speak...like creche.
people, good mixed bag, people from everywhere which is quite cool, i've become cultured a bit, accepting towards religion and shisha...not too bad.
i generally feel safe. i neglect a lot of study. i embrace a lot of nostalgia.
but strangely i feel better for typing this for my own eyes...my own personal entertainment. it cannot be all that bad afterall i'm still sat in my room, mine. with a laptop, mine. no phone but who needs communication like that anyways i only miss it at night when my mind's awake and i'm asleep...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
if this is what we're ment to be prepared for when we're growing into ourselves then you should sack the trainer for sure. prick.
Natasha Morris.
[not silly enough to have afterthoughts anymore]
had my phone and ipod stolen from my room last night,
friendly fucking city like.
uni in general is fine when i go, got some assignments due in, but
well lets just say London isn't actually paved with gold and
the levels of maturity im surrounded by depress me.
the people i've met are average at best and i just wish everyone else was with
me here so it wouldnt be so mediocre.
i havent written in this thing for bloody ages so i might as well bring everything
up to speed.
the problem here is my electronic footprint, orwell didnt have to think about this but well i can always play the gonzo card and pretend whatever i write is souped up.
yes tash what the hell are you on about now, half two int he morning you've become a nocturnal creature through the sheer speed you've been living at. knowing that if you read back a few entries you'd develop a nervous twitch(maybe to give yourself that special edge?)
anyways london, i live in a royal borough called kingston, named because it's where the kings used to come to be crowned...fantastic, all it means in todays terms is everythings more expensive, the houses are extravagant and everything's so bastard congested.
Clayhill, where my 'student village' exists is surrounded by a graveyard to the left, facing a water treatment works, to the right a railway line and we're actually built on one of the old black plague burial sites, to make things furtherly exciting the buildings are made to the stats of a prison. c'est deplessiante.
ummmm, the talent....non existent...the ones that do exist are tainted as soon as they speak...like creche.
people, good mixed bag, people from everywhere which is quite cool, i've become cultured a bit, accepting towards religion and shisha...not too bad.
i generally feel safe. i neglect a lot of study. i embrace a lot of nostalgia.
but strangely i feel better for typing this for my own eyes...my own personal entertainment. it cannot be all that bad afterall i'm still sat in my room, mine. with a laptop, mine. no phone but who needs communication like that anyways i only miss it at night when my mind's awake and i'm asleep...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
if this is what we're ment to be prepared for when we're growing into ourselves then you should sack the trainer for sure. prick.
Natasha Morris.
[not silly enough to have afterthoughts anymore]