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Friday, March 7th, 2008
4:46 pm
I am writing a post that no one will read for a journal that barely exists.
It is so hard to put things in writing, it makes it all so final after you press that "post" button.
I guess I should be happy with everything but life is all so disatisfying and it is so hard to go about your daily business feeling as if you've acheived nothing at all in a waste of a life. I keep erasing stuff cuz it keeps sounding so stupid but I know that it should really stay because it is all how I really feel. And to moan about it all seems so bloody sad that you can imagine people sitting around and saying "God how sad...". My darkest secret is that I go to sleep and hope I don't have to wake up. It may not sound so dark but it is to me because I am the epitomy of always seeming to be OK, to be fine, to be in control. So it scares me shitless and I hide it away becuase I can't not be in control. This was supposed to make me feel better, but God I feel even worse. I am sick and tired of people pitying me. I want to shine so much.

(1 Hutton Report | Sex it up.)

Tuesday, May 15th, 2007
8:41 pm
God I was going to write so much. When it comes to crunch time all words fail me and suddenly all the perfect sentences that were meant to flow out decide they like my brain too much with its cosy warmth and central heating.

This was once the window into my life, whatever the hell that means. It feels strange now. Once it was a warm room with a roaring fire and a good port waiting for you in a generous glass by a deep leather armchair. You were greeting with the smiles of your friends and chatted happily or became entangled in fascinating debates on topics of the day.

It's lonely now. The fire has been reduced to embers and everyone has left one by one. Till there are only the few left sitting in the armchairs, and the spirited air has become morose. The butler has stopped filling the glasses and such time has passed that you can begin reminisce about the way it used to be.

(2 Hutton Reports | Sex it up.)

Thursday, April 5th, 2007
11:25 pm
I thought i'd write as my internet is getting cut off at 12am since we switched from telewest to sky. I am so frustrated. Frustrated because when you enjoy something so much but find out you are not that great at it it breaks your heart a bit. My heart broke a little bit when I saw my Spanish page of my profile. It's not bad but its not good. I only got 1s for "effort" and "Meeting deadlines". I have never got a 3 before... I suppose the effort you put in speaks for what you get out cuz I don't put much effort in (haha isn't that 1 ironic). Talent only takes you so far. Yet I have no wish to speak spanish in class. Spanish is constantly in my mind. Sometimes I translate english songs into spanish in my head, I do it all the time. But I get in that classroom and all of a sudden I despise spanish. I despise the fact that I am forced to speak spanish, and that I am forced to listen to others be so good at it when I am obviously not. And when I do speak I stumble so bad that it puts me off. I don't want to discuss whether we should put television on trains, or whether drugs are bad. For christ sake what is wrong with me. I keep saying "You need to enjoy this, it's what you want to do damnit!". And I do enjoy it. I enjoy writing in spanish and I enjoy reading, I enjoy dancing to Ska Cubano and Buena Vista Social club and singing along. But when I hear people like Carmen and Alex who have a grasp on the language, or even mitzi who hasn't the best accent but at least tries. I get so angry at them. Cuz I want it to be their fault that my ability doesn't match my passion. The only way to improve on ability is to practice, but i lack the ability or confidence to practice effectively. And I cannot gain confidence without practice. So what the hell am I to do?

I have no real problems I know that, I am still working at a B+ which I am bloody proud of, but what they give with one hand they take away with the other. Without the grade that piece of paper makes me look average. I can't help feeling like crying right now.

This is the point where that fast paced "eye of the tiger" type music starts and I suddenly find that everything is starting to go great and I finally get over my confidence/ability problem and go on to win that beauty pagent/get that scolarship to the famous dance school/meet the guy of my dreams...

Ha weeell at least I still have my sense of humour...

(2 Hutton Reports | Sex it up.)

Tuesday, February 27th, 2007
1:26 am
I am sitting here, clear as day. I got Tommy McCook playing in my ears with a soulful rocksteady saxophone sound that is unbeatable. I am ready now. For the something else. The thing that takes you to another place. I can't help feeling I am being held back and I want to blame other people or things but I know it's me standing in my way. Cuz I wont try. No matter how much I want to. I could be a good sax player by now. But I don't play half as much as I should. I could be better at Spanish. But I just want it to flow from me. The whole thing seems so unnatural. If you want something. You try. That is how it goes in books and films. And all I seem to have is potential. All anyone says is "You got potential Tess, just work". And I wont. I'd rather be sitting here thinking about what I would be. If a genie came and said "Whatdya want?". That is how it always goes in my mind. And i'd become everything I would be, with no effort. But because it is what should be coming to me. Hard work has never been me. I want to be a great saxophone player. I want to be fluent in Spanish. I want Josh to notice that I like him without me having to do any work to show him. I don't feel as if I have the time. While it is all there, the seconds just there. And I am staring at them pass by. And I want time to stop for a while just so I can gather the thoughts I have. And then it's tomorrow. And then it's next week. Then I am sitting in an exam hall. Then i've lost my chance. Time stopped again. Just then. Such a good sound.

(2 Hutton Reports | Sex it up.)

Saturday, January 20th, 2007
10:21 pm
My first day as a volunteer was strange. I have never really done charity work. It showed me the wide gap between them and us. Hampstead highstreet is without a doubt different to Camden High Street. All old buildings and little shops. Young couples with one child and people buying produce at delicatessens. In Oxfam there is a bag for stuff to be sent to Kilburn Oxfam. The stuff people up the hill certainly wouldn't buy. Haha isn't it sad when Oxfam are discriminating but I suppose I can see their point. They'd never sell it. But it is still infuriating that today class barriers are so strikingly obvious that it slapped me in the face when we reached that highstreet. Away from me, away from anything I have ever really known. And it wasn't me. Nothing about it was me. I don't match my wine with my cheese. I don't complain that McDonalds lowers the tone of the area. I don't argue against mobile phone masts being put near me when I chat on my phone all the time.

Esther told me to stop shouting. I wasn't shouting. I was simply raising my views in a way that wasn't weak, with conviction. I will go back to Oxfam next week. I'll chat pleasantly to people when they talk to me. I'll even say goodbye to that weird man at the till. But i'll leave it behind me knowing that that isn't what I ever want for myself.

(1 Hutton Report | Sex it up.)

Sunday, December 31st, 2006
12:07 pm

February: I watched that floating Brothel.

March: "Somebody stop the world, I want to get off."

April: I am so glad for thursday man.

May: It is very strange but during the course of the day i've evaluated so many things in my life.

June: Yesterday I went out and about in London and ate at Yo Sushi for the first time.

July: I am a great believer in not writing an entry if I have nothing to say.

August: It is strange how I have not updated this journal in nearly two months.


October: It has been a long time

November: It feels so unproductive when I write in this,

December: I am only writing this so I can say I have an entry for december.

(Sex it up.)

12:04 pm
I am only writing this so I can say I have an entry for december.

(Sex it up.)

Friday, November 17th, 2006
11:21 pm
It feels so unproductive when I write in this, I feel some guilt that I may want a comment for my entry. Strange, I forget I am human at times. Walking home in the rain today I felt such a strange feeling. My day- uneventful. Another lunchtime not knowing what to do really. I had something to do fortunately. The prospect of doing work again actually filled me with a wholeness, I have purpose then. Not a drifting ghost not quite knowing where to go. I have been working straight for 3 days. Going to bed at 12, waking at six, working, going to school, coming home, working, eating, working till 12, going to sleep, waking up at six etc.

I made my bed. Can't quite accept it though. This was the only bed that seemed accessible at the time. Where else would I go? Keeping me going is the thought of knowing it'll probably end at some point. I don't think I was born for the slow grind of life. When I ask people how they are doing they seem satisfied. I want to be like that. But my dissatifaction for everything around me fuels me even more. I want to get to somewhere that people accept me for me and where I can feel truly comfortable, without a chip on my shoulder and the premise that everyone is out to get me.

How can people just accept the same old? Even the most crazy and frivolous of exploits are boring once done every week. I feel like I am just containing everything I feel. People will read this and not even care. I know that. When it comes down to it no one cares about anyone but themselves. That is the truth. You are the only one that can really protect you.

There is that chip again.

My gibberish is from sleep and food deprivation. But it is a gibberish that I completely and utterly mean.

Jesus. Haha teenage angst. I suppose someone might come up to me, slap me in the face and say "You have no real problems." I'd tell that of course I know that. But that is the problem is it not? With no real problem to define you are left conjuring problems from places in your mind you really don't want to go. So you are left in a greater conundrum than when you have a real problem. When people have a definable problem they usually know the answer to their problem, know what they want to do. So it isn't a problem. It is totally solvable, even if the consequences are dire.

That is probably the reason why I rarely ask people's advice on the things that matter. They will either tell me the truth (which I know) or they will conjuer up some elaborate shamble of rhetoric. Then say "You know you can talk to me anytime you know." I do a mixture of the two when people present me with their problems. It leaves both parties feeling satisfied but it accomplishes very little.

Gibberish, but a sensible, meaningful sort of gibberish wouldn't you say?

(2 Hutton Reports | Sex it up.)

Saturday, October 21st, 2006
2:08 pm
I am in no mind to do this, but something made me type in Livejournal. I am drowning. Around me is masses of information, of words, of "Bare"'s and I am finding it hard. I think I am going crazy. I am me, I can see me. But I feel I am being contaminated somehow. Like bit by bit me is being taken away. It's like there is expectations from both sides- the people who want me to work hard, others who want me to conform to the expectations of a teenager of today. Neither suit me. I don't work hard and I don't wish to laugh at the unfunny. I told Rose, I packed away everything bad and put in the common room. I can't face it but there is no where to go but face the bad things in the stuffy place. Outside is cold and lonely. What path do you choose?

The route with so many people, all talking with nothing to say?

The route where you have to search for days to find any sign of life?

Inside or Outside.

I have always thought too much. Don't profess to be anyone else. But no one seems to want that. When you open your soul to someone they pretend they don't mind but they'd rather be hearing some crappy joke that doesn't even make sense. I have come across it too many times that I am not sure I can be bothered to try anymore.

It makes me believe that I am doomed. It feels that way. As if I am damned to think too much forever. Those who don't think seem to be infinitely happy. The ignorant are spared. It bothers me that at 17 I already have a story, none of it to do with me. I feel like it is dictating my future. I want my father. I want him right now. I want him to explain to me why it is that I have to have all this shit on my shoulders, why he thought a letter explaining how we'd be better without him would ever suffice. why my past should dictate the future.

(Sex it up.)

Saturday, October 7th, 2006
11:59 am
It has been a long time, but I am finally at my desk with the ability to write with nobody asking me what I am doing. A lot of things have happened and nothing has happened all at the same time. I cannot exactly put a finger on whether I love sixth form or want to go into school with a gun. "Taking it one step at a time" as a chronic smoker trying to give up would say. What do I hate about sixth form? I hate the idle chit chat about nothing in particular, laughing for no reason, resorting to the lowest form of joke, the inside jokes that i'll never get and they'll never share. The people who say one thing but mean another.

I wont really complain about people being so shallow and saying to be this you have to do that cuz that is how life is going to be from now on. In our unis, workplaces, this is life. We choose who we want to be around us and have to disregard all those who wish to demean us. Otherwise we will get hurt.

But I do like sixth form. I like it because I am doing lessons I really wanted to do. The people in my lessons are nice and there is only a minority of those who are weak minded and subsequently need to appear cool or tough or bad. I love politics, what we do and the people in the class who make it a nice lesson to be in.

I find it strange that no one has really talked about the impact that boys have had on us as community, I thought i'd see it somewhere. Esther said to me and Paddi "You'll both get boyfriends" and I truly thought about if someone out of the blue just asked me out, would I accept? The curious part of me said, why not? The other (haha perhaps smarter) part said, are you crazy girl? Everyone kind of tiptoes around the subject now. But I suppose I am as blunt as ever and refuse. I like a few boys, I like what they add, a sort of non bitchiness that is replaced by sheer stupidity. People like stupidity though, haha tis plain to see.

Anyway being the older, wiser 17 year old I am determined to make it all work. And if it doesn't then I should have the sense to put everything back together again. I am not at sixth form to make friends. That is a bonus of course, but i'd rather an A and the friends I have now than an E and a whole circle of friends.

Haha and that's my two cents on the whole issue.

(Sex it up.)

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