Age Concern: Being Younger on Mars

It's my 17th birthday on March the 31st. Any of my people wanting to get me a cheap awesome birthday present can get me a membership to Amnesty International (a human rights organisation) here, which comes with a free t-shirt too. You will receive much gratitude and a high five.

No way do I feel 17. In books and films, 17 is the age when people get into 'serious' relationships, grow up for real, drive cars and enter the future. I know exactly who I am, what I want and what I believe in, but I'd like to pause life cos I'm just not ready for the consequences yet, know what I mean? Shame is, no-one can pause it so I spose I'll just have to get on with it. Ah well.

Anyone else feel like their exact age? Most people I've spoken to either feel older or younger, but never quite dead on. This makes me think that our year system is flawed as it doesn't seem to be dead on. Also I was thinking; if humans one day lived on Mars (I doubt it will happen as we'll probably convert Mars into a nuclear weapons testing ground and complete destroy it, but you never know) will those humans all be numerically younger than us, even if they were born at the same time, due to Mars having a longer one around the Sun trip (a year then)? That's an interesting one. I'm thinking yes. Therefore, if you want to be younger, stuff anti-aging cream, head off to Mars.

On Packages

(The scene: Two guys a few years below Ab are discussing bodies on the next table in the library.)

Guy 1: F*** me, I mean, what is the point of pubes?
Guy 2: I know right. You can set fire to them though, and they jump about.
Guy 1: Really?
Guy 2: Mmm, but don't light up while they're still attached to your balls or dick.
Guy 1: That's another thing, yeah. Are balls included as part of our (does air quotes) 'genetalia'?
(Brief pause)
Ab: (Leans across to them) Yeah, it's kind of a package deal.
(They don't get it)


Speaking of packages (but of a different kind, eh), another reason you should get a penpal is that the best ones send you thoughtful birthday presents that they've purchased and dealt with behind their parents' backs, and then send it to you via expensive airmail, all without abducting you because they know your address. Awesome, isn't it? The most annoying part of this arrangement is that I'm banned from openning it before my 17th birthday (31st  March, gifts much appreciated) and that is many days away. I'd post a picture of my package (hehe), but it's been taken away by my Mother as she does not trust me not to be tempted and open it. It has to be said, she is right not to. Peace.

Jesus, Hood-Rats and The Vacuum Party

Ahoy readers, I've got a variety post for you tonight. Firstly, I was in church today practicing my job as a candle lighter in tomorrow's annual Christmas church service (me, Megan and Katie form the Candle Crew, and we're gonna try not to set light to anything and I'm gonna try not to swagger down the church isle), and I saw a banner on the wall that reminded me of last year's service when I was immature and in year 11. Me and Katie were sitting next to each other, and during either one of the silent prayers or the speeches, one of us noticed the said banner that read 'Come Jesus, Come'. Well, the overtly sexual connotation in that made us completely double up with suppressed laughter as it was so not the place for that sort of thing and we were a) crude and b) immature. Well it's funny to me now, so I guess I'm still all those things.

(The scene: Sixth form area and Ab, Katie, Louise and Ashleigh are 'working' when Lou comes out with a really harsh and unexpected comment.)

Ashleigh: Urrgh, I've failed.
Louise: So did your Mum's abortion!
(Shock and laughter)
Louise: I've been waiting all day to say that (devious smile).


(The scene: Still the SFA, but later. Megan has arrived, all attempts at work have ended and Katie is showing off her new word.)
Katie: (To Megan) Hood-rat. You're like vermin, but clothed.

On a musical note, I discovered a really awesome artist the other day that you too might like. She's called Emily and runs a one woman band (i.e. she writes all the instrumental and vocal parts, records and engineers them) named 'The Vacuum Party'. Currently her newest song 'Undertow' (or 'Across the Sea' as it appears in the second music player) is one of my favourite discoveries, so have a listen and see if she rocks your boat. There are two versions of it, and personally I like the second version best. This first version is taken from her musical tumblr.

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

This second one comes from her myspace profile. After you've heard Undertow/Across the Sea on there, check out her other stuff, it's all pretty cool and a great variety of styles. Her music will be available to purchase here. Rock on.

Political Activism and Dinosaurs

Guess what? I was thinking the other day about politics. So much so that I'm creating a label for it one this blog so that if I post more political stuff, it can be easily 'filed' and found by inquiring minds. Anyway, my political thought was 'there is no point just sitting around complaining about political problems and social injustices (the world is sadly full of them, and it is some human's innate instinct to hate people different to themselves that often convinces me of God's non-existence), that's not going to do anything. Get off your butt Ab Brightman and go make a difference.' I have spare time that I fill with internal dialogue about current issues, so it figures that I could use that time to help solve the issues that bug me. With me?

As I'm not old enough to vote yet (the voting age is 18 here, and I am 17 at the end of March), I thought 'official' political activism might be a bit tricksy to get into, but then I heard about this great organisation called 'Liberal Youth'. I'm a liberal at heart, so it sounded up my street, and after a bit of research it turned out that they were a branch of the Liberal Democrats, which would be the party I'd vote for now if I could. Rock on, thinks me, so I'm now in the process of exploring what it's all about, and hopefully getting involved in a wee bit o' campaigning! Luckily, the Chair of my area's branch is also in my school's Sixth Form (for sixth form stuff, we've actually posted stuff over at http://www.lifeinthesixth.blogspot.com/), although in the year above, but she was still able to provide me with lots of useful info. Anyone else into political activism?

On another note, how awful are the new proposed university fees (over £7000 a year in tuition alone)? It's ridiculous, practically more than my Mother earns a year. Hopefully the Lib Dems will stick true to their policies and vote against it!

And here's a great picture of a Tyranowhoreus Rex from the hilarious Hyperbole and a Half, because we all need a laugh.

Dumb Teenage Son Meets My Update

A new school year is almost upon me again, and I will be starting my A-level courses in philosophy, psychology, chemistry and physics. I confess that I am already behind on work and the term hasn't even started yet, but then again, I'm the person who regularly racks up library fines over £15. Good luck to anyone stating a new school/university/job this fall. Anyway, if I don't post as much as is my norm, it's because I'm studying right. Hopefully I won't have to do too much of that though! I got my GCSE (an examined qualification in every subject) results back the other day, and I got all As and A*s, which is pretty good. Anyway, here's the transcript you really want:


(The scene: A semi-crowded train destined for Portsmouth. DTS (dumb teenage son) and The Mum are sitting opposite Ab as the eavesdropping commences)

DTS: Mum, when did you give me this t-shirt again? While ago weren't it?
The Mum: It was for your last birthday -
DTS: Man, this t-shirt's getting old then, cos that was over a year ago now.
The Mum: Well honey, Christmas is coming up soon, so you can ask for a new t-shirt then, can't you?
DTS: (Grunts) Yeah, 'spose. What's the date this year?

Betcha feeling good about your own intelligence levels now, aintcha?

(NEWSFLASH: I've managed to change the settings, nd now anyone, whether they have an account or not, can post. Just click on the comments link under each post, and it'll open a new window for you.)

The Mysterious 4-Sided Shape

Today was the momentous day of my GCSE maths exam (kind of a big deal apparently). I however, was concerned with more pressing issues than the questions on the paper and continually being distracted by all the Xs in my paper (see my last post 'How Anne's Ruined Maths' if you are unaware of the significance of those Xs). Yes indeedy, there were in fact more interesting things than the exam paper (a slight pause here to allow you to get your breathe back due to hyperventilating after reading such an outlandish statement), such as:

• Watching the invigilator who was so clinically obese  chunk-o that she couldn't fit between the rows of desks that we were working on, attempting to fit  between them and continually knocking into people's desks and causing their pens to role about.
• The bloke sitting in front of me who's trousers were just low enough so that every time he leaned forward to work, his butt crack looked at me through the small but perfectly placed hole in the back of his chair.
• Looking up at the ceiling of the sports hall (exam central) and counting the number of balls that are stuck amongst the rafters. A surprising amount actually - probably even enough to single-handedly supply the world cup with balls.
• Observing the invigilator who, every time he turned towards the far wall, would 'sneakily' wipe his nose on his sleeve, then turn back to the room again with a 'haha, I managed to pull off that booger-wipe nicely, and no-one saw' face. Considering he was in a room filled with over 300 people, that was dumber than when I couldn't spell my own first name at the front of the paper. Admittedly it is abhorrent and I'm loath to ever use it, but still!
• The invigilator who spent all the time I looked at her staring at another invigilator's chest. Now whether the object of staring had a hidden soup stain on her chest that the Starer was being OCDish about, or whether the starer was simply trying out an Anne-Lister-in-church move, I don't know. However, it was face to mammary glands for at least 30 minutes.

Another point of interest/entertainment was the remark I heard soon after we all got out of the exam hall:

Boy A: Does it still count as a triangle if it ended-up with 4 sides?
Boy B: Yeah, so long as all the angles added-up to 140 degrees.

I kid you not. Lets hope Friday's maths exam is quite as eventful as this one...

By the way, I have now included a reactions whatchamajig at the bottom of each blog - you can tick the boxes that apply, and if you want a bigger variety of choices, just let me know.

PostSecret

I have just stumbled upon a really amazing concept. Seriously, I'm not being sarcastic! Readers in the U.S. might already be aware of this, as I hear it's quite big there, but the chances are that if you don't live in America, this will be all new for you.

Are you ready? It's called 'PostSecret', and basically this bloke in Maryland invited people to anonymously send him a postcard with something they've never told anyone else about on it, and decorated really creatively. Sound odd? That's because it really is, but oh-so-facinating. It was origionally planned as a community arts project because the postcards all looked great together (people really put their all into decorating them), but now it's become a fabulous expose of the human mind and ideas in life. Some are funny, some are dripping with bitterness, some shrouded in pain, lonliness, joy - the whole mix of human emotions is in there. And one of the best bits is they manage to show that we usually share a secret with a stranger, no matter how obscure. Here are a few to give you an example of what they're like:

Aren't they simply brilliant? If you're not convinced, or want more of this then visit http://www.postsecret.com/ or check out the books they sell that are full of them! Now excuse me, I have to go write a secret....

On Leaving School

The day of reckoning has finally passed me by. I am now no longer legally required to go to school ever again. My, that is a strange thought, having to cope from now on without compulsory education. We have effectively been tossed to the lions of The Real World by the government, and I still feel a bit too young to make Life Choices (try 12 years old). Still, I will of course will be returning for sixthform, and to take the rest of my exams, so I'm not quite out in the cold for another two years!  I must say, on The Big Day, people did get very hyped-up about it all. There was weeping for people they'll see again in a week, there was talk of a big mexican wave during our finance exam (alas, it was only ever a fictional wave), there were pictures taken, people hugged, food thrown... all in all it was quite as overdramatic as this saw cake cutter (which completely cracks me up!). I however, remained fairly unmoved by the whole event (as ever). Maybe I am dead inside after all! (Thanks mum) In the interests of being a half-full kinda person, here are the good points about leaving:

• Never having to breath the same air as many of my foes again, as they will be leaving to go to college or waste their lives in another way. This in itself is fantastic as I have hated them and their ignorance and bigotry for years.
• Finally getting to wear my own clothes for sixthform! For those of you who are not aware of my battle against the school uniform, it has been a bitter war with many casualties (like the black jumper of '08), yet it is coming to a cease-fire at last, *cough* I win.
• The end of my french, maths and [insert crap school subject here] lessons! However, I will start latin next year, and I hope it doesn't proove as boring as I sspect it may...