Judgemental People.

July 22, 2011.
At least 92 innocent Norwegians were brutally murdered without reason.

July 23, 2011.
Amy Winehouse dies.

This blog bost does not intend to take away from the obvious horror experienced by the Norwegian people, the thought of it makes my blood fill with fury and pain.

I have in the past few days witnessed an online debate on the subject of the media attention of the Norway killings and Amy Winehouse's death.

People appear to be slating this woman for her 'untimely death,' and show no sympathy for the singer because of her drug addiction.
Harsh expletives and severe opinions are used when expressing viewpoints on the attention of the singer, posting status on Facebook proclaiming 'Fuck Amy Winehouse.' and 'She deserved to die.'
Apart from shock, these cruel statements filled me with anger; the harsh ignorance of some people on the internet, armed only with their keyboards, brings sick to my throat.

Amy Winehouse was an unwell woman. Drug addiction comes high on the list of the most terrible things on our planet.

She did not 'deserve to die.' Nobody does.
The pain that her family and friends are experiencing, this loss, does not need to be deepened. I can only hope that none of them witness these cruel judgements being passed via facebook.
Judgements that may not even be truthful.

The instantaneous opinion that Amy Winehouse 'died from drugs ' has so far got no evidence to back it up. The tests from her autopsy have not yet confirmed anything.
I read in a newspaper article yesterday that it was likely that she died from a lack of drugs not a surplus of them. It was reported that she had been 'clean' for three weeks prior to her death, but that this 'cold turkey' she had subjected herself to had sent her body into
shock.
I don't know if this is true, nobody can yet say how she died.

But if nobody can say.. How the hell do people justify passing their judgements?
If you can say it is wrong to empathise with Amy Winehouse when there is such horror in Norway, my question to you is; Are any of you opinionated cyber warriors actively doing anything to help the poor souls from Norway?

I very much doubt it.

It is my opinion that these people simply love to have somebody to 'slag off', love to have the attention seeking statuses which bring up moral issues which, truthfully, aren't actually apparent.
Because, really, when all is said and done, the Norway killings, and the death of Amy Winehouse are two separate events on the dark and evil timeline of our world. Two separate events, that are in no way connected.

People need to keep in mind that, as a race, we do in fact have the brain capacity to empathise with two unrelated subjects at once.

Who would have known?

Prom Today.

It feels like the majority of my school career has been building up to this day.. I can't believe it is here.
It hasn't really sunk in yet, I don't think.. Maybe apart from the occasional flip of nerves that my stomach is becoming accustomed to. It's making me feel a bit sick.

Today is supposed to be the one day that we girls all feel like princesses, but I can't help the feeling that I won't.. That's my main worry really. I can't believe I have become this person who is so obsessed with looking perfect and nothing going wrong, but it IS prom, so I think I may be excused. Never fear, I will go back to my synical self after. I hope.
I really don't consider myself to be a materialistic person.. usually.

Never mind, apart from the frantic worry about perfection, I am rather excited, really :D

Bye!!

Selfish People.

We've all heard about, seen images and video's of the circumstances that people from some countries in Africa have to survive in. We have had it drilled into our skulls for the majority of our lives, about the lesser privileged of the world, and that we should be grateful for what we have got.
In Africa, children, adults, everyone is dying from diseases which are merely an annoyance to us, diseases which can be cured with a few over-the-counter pills. But Diarrhoea and Pneumonia are actually killing these people. It is not their fault. They did not choose their place of birth, their dreadful economic state.

And so, our country, our government, is giving these lesser economically developed countries a well needed donation of £814million, a sum which was pledged to them as a part of the World Aid Act, and can succeed in saving around four million peoples lives.
And yet some people, lounging in their neatly upholstered comfortable armchairs, in their plushly decorated living rooms, laptops resting on their knees, actually have it in them to protest via online forums?
A quote from a forum I read stated:

''I don't get a choice whether I pay tax. Government's should not be in the business of giving away taxpayers money to charitable causes.''

Athough a valid point is here made, I cannot begin to comprehend the selfishness present in this statement. The snooty protesters to these donations have clearly never experienced true suffering, nor do they have the ability to be empathetic; Were the roles reversed, they would be perfectly happy to take the money, I am almost certain.
The word 'choice' in this statement further highlights the ignorance of the author, as the reason for the governments' donation was to give these four million people the 'choice' of having a life back, when before it was everyday hanging in the balance.

We may not have the choice not to pay tax, but we do have the choice of food, water, a bed, and a home. Simple privileges which are not granted to these people. People who in many respects, are just like us.

So log off your online forum and find a real problem.

Last day of school.

This post is a reminder of my time at school.
Over the past four years, yes only four, so much has changed that I can't even comprehend.
From chasing sixth formers with Harriet and Abby in my year eight time, to getting pissed with one on my very last day of year eleven.

From being put into set two in English in year nine to enjoying a cup of tea with my favourite English teacher and the other emotional wrecks who happened to not have a maths exam.
I remember in year nine, when we went to pizza hut for Abby's '12th' birthday around three times.

I remember playing tennis with my fellow members of the 'virgin club' in year ten, and meeting Georgia for the first time, befriending through are similar lack of 'experience.'

I remember my very first days at this school; I tried to make a good impression by looking nice and having my hair done, but I think I just came off as a snob. Whoopsilly me!

I remember being friends with Emmy, but not how our friendship came about. I just know that without school, we would have never enjoyed tea and moccachino with Ella, Emily and Heather, with her massively sugary hot-chocolate-with-all-the-toppings, at the Latté Lounge.

Going to Spain in year nine was amazing, I remember the day that Miss Dilley approached me to inform me that I had got a place on the trip. Probably one of the most exciting conversations I've ever had with a P.E. teacher.

And then there was France, Ardeche, in year ten, which was so amazing, probably one of the best experiences of my life, and I can honestly say that I owe that to the school. Kayaking with Harriet, watching Frankee absail and enjoying tea with Mr. T. I can't but it all into one post.

French with Lauren, playing Pacxon with a deafly oblivious Miss Taylor sipping tea at the front of the class.

Year eight, terrorising Mr. Marsden in R.E., Lewis Tucker throwing an Apple computer at him, what a cutie.

English, making Mrs. Owen a tennis racket which she just didn't appreciate :(

There are so many experiences from this school that I just don't have time in the day to mention, but everything was awesome. I am leaving the school, but my memories will forever remain. I will miss people, but I don't know why, because we will see each other, I promise!

I can't ever express all of the good times, but I just want to say that I will not forget.

Good Brunch chaps.

This is Part Of My Dream Last Night..

He was leading us, the General. He might look like a weed, but I know he has inner strength of the Gods.
The road has taken a turn for the worst; the once smooth landscape has transformed into desolate wasteland, and the water is running low.
I am beginning to wonder at the reason, question my unfathomable trust in the General.
But then I remember the treasures ahead, and my energy is renewed.

We are 21, a group of old, young, tall, short, men, women, all in search for the same thing. Change.

Hours passed and the yellow and bland faded orange of the harshly monotonal desert we had been crossing for all this time finally began to grant us some diversity. The first I noticed of this change was as I was watching my feet pull me forward lethargically.
We as a troupe were not the only things living here; the whole desert was alive. Even the sand seemed to be rushing past me as my eyes swung in and out of focus, carefully pulling into recognition my fading concentration.
It became apparent that this smudge of orangey beige that had met my gaze for the best part of 4 hours, and that had been the landscape of my life so far, was now, at last, inhabiting green. The reason for this didn't hit me for a few minutes, but when it did, it came with excitement.
'Food?' I whispered - more to myself. A few people heard my plea, and they began to realise too.
I raised my sun baked head, and there it was, but a speck in the distance. Pristine, the greenery shocked me. I had never seen such shades of magnificence in my meagre years of existence.

The general looked pleased but concerned, I guessed it was at the distance. Would we last that long? Who knew? But we would not give up, not now.

Chunder Everywhere!

Cups of tea in the evening are pleasant, aren't they? Especially when accompanied with the partially digested delicacies provided by my cat.

Don't get me wrong, she's a lovely little feline, but when I settled down for the apprentice yesterday evening, I did not expect the pleasant odour that I received within my nostrils, swiftly followed by the horrified and highly disgusted noises from my mother of 'EUGH.' and 'Oh my God, whyyyyy?!'
Two minutes later she had hobbled into the living room, proclaiming, 'Florence. Has been sick. All over the dining room floor.'
Yay. And guess who had it their heart to volunteer to clean it up?
So,
As I walked into the beautifully decorated room housing my dining table and some various other unused furnishings, the pungent smell of half-digested cat food filled my unwelcoming nostrils. Oh my giddy Aunt. I can feel the remains of my dinner surfacing as I view this splendour.

Mother was not indeed lying when she said the cat had chundered everywhere, as I found out when faced with the four lusciously sized piles of solid and slimy sick, ranging from diameters of around 3cm to about 10cm. Yummy Yummy.

Just imagine it, me kneeling over these perfectly and expertly formed piles of vomit, retching and spluttering with the aid of nothing but a meagre scrap of kitchen role.

Having succeeded between sicky burps in gathering all of the chunks, I stand up guardedly, and nearly fall again, as I have trod right in the chunder. It begins to soak through my sock and I nearly drop my kitchen rolled prize.
This is it, I really am going to add to the pile now. I manage to keep it back, however and proceed to deposit it in the bin where it will rot for eternity muhahaha.

Oh, I am so classy.