True Love and High Adventure
Image hosted by Photobucket.comTrue Love and High Adventure
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"I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library."

Saturday, February 01, 2003
See now, I have proof that the author of The Teen Diaries was actually an impostor, and not me at all. I could NEVER have written this (the first in an occasional series of extracts):

"We went to see Mrs Doubtfire yesterday, which wasn’t all that brilliant, but Robin Williams was hilarious. He’s an excellent actor – I loved him in Dead Poet’s Society, which is one of my favourite films."



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Thursday, January 30, 2003
I just recovered a box of old diaries and photos that I'd thought I'd thrown away but had actually been sitting in my old flat, waiting for the current tenant to decide that she wanted me to remove them. I'm not sure why she waited 7 months to tell me she had them, unless it's because she was READING all the diaries. Eek! Still, they would have given her a laugh anyway, as Matt and I certainly spent a hilarious evening poring over my obnoxious 15 year old self. I really don't even recognise the person I was ten years ago - a negative, judgemental, priggish, self-righteous, miserable little cow. I hated EVERYTHING! I don't *remember* being that much of a hata. Perhaps it was just standard teenage frustration finding its expression in my diaries, allowing me to lead a fairly normal day to day life... I hope so, or no wonder I didn't have many friends :/

What with at least 8 years worth of diaries to read, my thirst for melodrama may soon be slaked. Even if the closest I got to promiscuous sex at secondary school was: "C. told me that A. told her that E. went off into the woods with O. at K.'s party!!!"



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Tuesday, January 28, 2003
During my daily blogsurf just now I came to a realisation: I need more slutty melodrama in my life (and it sure as hell isn't going to be coming from me, for whom an exciting night out is a trip to Video Box without my scarf on). Why are none of you having complicated love polygons any more? Or long drawn out sagas involving rainy nights and misunderstood eye contact? I DEMAND vicarious angst. Especially since I'm trying to wean myself off Hollyoaks. Please make your life more like a soap opera, or recommend some sensational reads. Or maybe I should just start a new group blog - sluttymelodrama.blogspot.com - and then we can exercise our imaginations...


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Monday, January 27, 2003
Oh, I meant to add some new blogs to my links. They are the ever charming Robin's
Express Delivery and Are The Stars Out Tonight from the delightful Feather Boa.


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I sometimes wonder about moving out of Brighton. Living here is a bit like hanging out with an incredibly popular, cool, exciting friend. She's the envy of everyone with her hipster ways, and you bask in her reflected glory and in the knowledge that YOU are closer to her than anyone, you've known her for longer etc. But secretly you sometimes feel like an inadequate, boring frump next to her. And she always wants to drag you out on the town ('drag' being quite often the operative word), and there are no half measures - you have to put on your face, your gladrags and your most sparkling personality. If you want to stay in she'll always be whispering in your ear that you're missing out the best party ever, that you're wasting her friendship. And to her, money is NO object. You end up haemorrhaging it just to be near her, and is it really, truly worth it?


Well, maybe.



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