Standing Tears Apart.

Listening to Busted, crushing on Jackson Rathbone, staying up til 5am building up frets to hands, playing my guitar and painting my nails purple. Dude, this is what summers about.

Photograph ©VSmith August 2009

Like A Painted Ghost.

Today was beautiful. The sun shone as if it were going to burn out tomorrow while me, Cleo, Faye, Liane, Rhianna, Carys, Gabriel and Tom sat on the green in bec rec.
Accomplishment of the day? Well, that has to of been knocking a dusty cone out of a tall tree for a picture. With a little help from my big strong friend's cupped hands, we eventually knocked it off. Along with my shoes, one of which is still missing. All I know is that its near the tree in Bec Rec. I think. A shoeless tramp may well have stolen it.

Photograph©CSavva August 2009

I Love The Way We Glow In Ultraviolet Light.

Considering that I used to blog every day, I haven't blogged in a long time. I have to say that I have missed this, but I shall do a MA-HOO-SIVE blog tomorrow, as I have just been cancelled on by my friends, so my schedule is free as a bird. Apart from the blog promised. Heres something to keep you (more me, to be honest) going. Ignore the little girl at the front pulling her pants down. From left to right, me, Cath, Shivum, Lily, Olivia and Zoe in a fountain maze at the exact moment we took a wrong step and the water sprang up and enveloped us as we ran through the water like parched children. All I remember is dragging Cath through the biggest shooter, pushing a random boy through, not realising he had his phone in his pocket (foolish boy, foolish Nats), and finally Olivia running towards me with her arms stretched to enclose me in a drenched hug while prisms flitted off of each of her five solitaire charms and into my vision.

Photograph ©JPanesar August 2009

Its Like Catching Lightning.

Theres a rather large spider scurrying along the edge of the room, making me doubt the hygiene in my house. Though I'm ever so slightly scared of him, I name him Spencer. Theres something about the way he moves so gracefully on so many legs that makes him discordingly beautiful despite his ugly grey shell that is making me cower my legs up onto my seat.
Today me and my friends hid in one of their cupboards, so as to strike fury among parentals, but from the hours 12:00-21:00 no one realised. Aah well, it was a nice cupboard, plus I bagged a few Beanie Babies and an old Baby Annabel doll who I renamed Rupert.

We Can't Build Houses For Robots If The Pieces Don't Fit.

The meteor shower is so beautiful. It looks like the constellations are playing some kind of a game of hot potato, lobbing shooting stars across the sky in what seems purely for my entertainment as I sit on my porch step, hugging my pyjama-clad knees and listening to The Maccabees.

Forget The Sun In His Jealous Sky.

From my messy hair down to my peeling violet licked toes, I must be the most scruffiest person in this downbeat town. My panda-eyes haunt me from the past six nights of no sleep in the name of art and little red dots are creeping up as if they are screaming at me to eat healthier and go to bed. And you know what? I will. I want more than anything (or you know, most things, aside from word peace, and no starvation and a decent camera) to just not always look like I've crawled out of bed with last night's eye liner, a top knot, crazy smile and acryllic spilling down all my tunics that I wear with tights and chub-a-chub legs. I want to be glamourous, classy, you know the sort.
I love this picture, I don't know why, or what I'm sticking in my mouth, but theres something so charming about it that screams me.

Hiding Behind Rainbow's Wall.

Midnight. Theres something so serene just about the word that makes me want to stay up all night, casting spells or something other than sitting with my laptop and guitar trying to figure out the chords to Busted songs. It makes me wish I had magical powers, and yeah, I know it sounds stupid, but I'm a strange person. I have bright orange nails, natural bedhead, an interest in visual arts, hazel eyes and magical powers. I just really want it on my CV.

Like, um, her.

Like A Firefly Without The Light.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, there is an ideology forming where I'm wearing a big white lacy dress and the sun is streaming down n a kind of late-summer-evening as I run through tall barley fields with a smile on my face. In this dream, my messy hair fits and I have eyes like Tim Minchin, or my Mum, or my friend Conor, if you don't know any of these people, they all have insanely bright blue eyes. I don't know why this has come up, but this is really and truly how I want to be.

Sunny Boy, Long Time No See.

Twenty minutes past two in the afternoon and I've just woken up. The skys incredibly blue, wouldn't you say? I wish I had my camera now, so that I could tale a picture of how radiant my garden looks in the sun, but SOMEONE dropped it at Katy's party and it fell down her stairs, bouncing twice off of each stair until it landed and cracked into three separate pieces in Katy's porch. I also wish I had it so that I could take pictures of my more recent drawings. I just had a look back and saw that I'd really only put up Vickie and Eve, and that was under pressure, and they are both rather henious. And before you say it, my phone doesn't have a USB.

Look At The Stars, Look How They Shine For You.

It rained all night last night, leaving a jaded effect on the world as I can see it (my back garden.) I may go out and explore the world even further than my tiny mowed lawn. Again, I have nothing to do today so I may aswell just do what I did yesterday. I'll bring my pencils and pad this time so I could maybe have a hope of finishing the ship load of art I've got to do before the twenty-fifth. Nerve-wracking.

Life Is A Maze And Love Is A Riddle.

Today I went out on my own and listened to Razorlight's saddest songs so that I could mope around in the rain. I'm in the mood to fall head over heels in love, simply for something to do, but theres apparently a severe shortage round here. Problem is, even if there is someone I like, (and there IS) they never ever ever like me back. I'm fourteen years old and I am frigid. Which I don't mind, but other people seem to. Well, not so much mind, more just think its strange. But hey, I'm a strange person. Maybe thats where I'm going wrong. I want to be pretty, and thin, and to say witty things and not be so clumsy (as to not walking along southbank texting and not looking where I'm going and therefore walking right into the silver dude in a tutu (who is strangely fit) knocking him off of his box and landing on top of him), and not come out with my really weird insights to the world that everyone gives me looks for. I wish I could just get my point across.

Don't Say You're Never Gonna Leave Me.

Leave me, I'm stubborn, and perhaps nothing will ever change that. All I know is that I'll stick to my word, hell will I. Just believe in me, please, believe. That'll make one.

Makeover.

Makeover time? I think so.
Holly, my make-over godess is coming round tomorrow,
I'll upload pictures soon;
sorry for leaving you, love