Essays Suck

I've never wanted to write an essay less than the one I'm suposedly writing today. I've become one of those people who has to reward themself with a biscuit every 100 words or so. I've also got the heating turned up and I'm wearing an ugly but warm and furry hoody I bought for a quid, just for extra compfort through the anguish of essay writing. Even a cancer victim whose just split up with their boyfriend wouldn't indulge themself with as many compforts as I am.

I was thinking of quitting the course last year as I could still leave with a qualification, but the lure of a free laptop, having my course fees paid for and still being able to cheekly use my student discount even though I work almost full time was too much for me. Oh well hopefully in a year I will have an M.A .........even though I will be fat-I can't remeber how long my dissertation is but I think it's a lot of biscuits worth.

Because I find reading really hard my method of writting essay's has become: read some articles and then absolutly everything I read has to go in the essay even if it's not answering the question because I don't like going through the effort of reading something for no reason. (from reading my blog I think it is obvious I don't read them through afterwards, sorry if they're incomprehendable.) If you think about it I'm kind of like the litterary version of someone who is constantly talking and never listening.

My essay is about children's rights..... and this document called 'the U.N Convention on the Rights on the a Child' which is like a document written by adults and only read by adults which in my opinion makes it pointless. There's no point me learning as an adult that 10 or 20 years ago I had the right to 'rest play and leisure' I can't go back in time to that moment when I had to write lines all lunch time for deliberatly forgetting to get off the school bus at the big cold swimming pool and acidently getting of at the nice warm baby pool with the infants even though I was a junior. If I could go back to that time with the knowlege I have of childrens rights now that would be awesome.....imagain the sceen:

angry teacher: how dare you diliberatly aviod swimming lessons! you will stay in at play time and write 50 lines!

Cheeky ginger kid: I understand the need to repremand me for my actions sir, but may I first reffer you to artical 31 in the UNCRC the right to rest play and leisure, I feel that depriving me of my play time today would infridge on my right as a child.

Angry teacher: you cheeky girl less of the backchat, 100 lines for you.

Cheeky ginger girl: I'm am only exercising my right as stated in artical 13 'the right to freedom of expression'

Angry teacher: 200 lines

Cheeky Ginger girl: Given my obvious hatred of reading and writing, doing 200 lines may come under the heading of 'tourure or other cruel, inhumane or degrading treatment or punishment' which according to artical 31 I am to be protected from.

my personal helplines

Today I've got a flat tyre on the car that is almost my car. I phoned AA, Dan and my Dad. Dan and Dad gave helpful advice, the AA were rubish, but should you really expect cohearent advice from alcoholics?

It made me think about my personal helplines e.g who I phone for help in what situations and I have come up with a list I wish I could publish the numbers so everyone could benifit but as I don't have a data protection advice line person I probably shouldn't just in case.

Car advice - theroretical (e.g There is a spare tyre in there somewhere)
....................................................................................Dad

Car advice - practical (e.g I will help you fit it)....Dan

Money and investment advice...............................Dad

forms /acconting/ excell advice ............................Mum

crap medical advice (e.g 'don't bother going to a doctor they can't do anything for you')
....................................................................................Jo

youth interpritation (e.g BRB stands for be right back)
....................................................................................Sarah

cooking advice (e.g how many days after it's sell by date can you really eat eggs ect)
..................................................................................Mum

spritual advice........................................................Dan, Helen, Katie.

Theological advice...................................................Will

Musical knowledge..................................................Dan

Artistic advice..........................................................Rachel, Josh.

Dressmaking advice................................................Mum

french translation....................................................Dan

Business/ self employment advice........................Dad

fashion advice...........................................................Rachel

computor and internet advice................................Dan

from this list I can conclude that Dan is the most useful person to know, that's why I'm going out with him. I wonder if people ever ask me for advice? I think I could run these helplines succesfully:

crap arabic translation
crap french translation
what colour goes with what other colours advice
uk geography (specialising in the coventry ring road and translation of liverpool postcodes into atual area names)
how to make cheese sause
101 things to do with a glue gun.

Can anyone think of a business I could make with all these skills?

what happens if you put a cheese string in a glue gun?

Seven signs of aging

according to Olay these are the 7 signs of aging:

1) line and wrinkles
2) uneven skin texture
3) uneven skin tone
4) appearance of pores
5)blotches and age spots
6) dry skin
7) dullness

in the last couple of months I have experienced a few signs of aging that I have never experienced before.

1) listening to radio 2
2) a strange craving for brown bread instead of my usual white
3) fairly frequent discussions about tax

worrying isn't it? but just like the users of Olay I plan to combat these signs of aging,with a series of new rules that will hopefully stop this slippery slope to old age. I am currently 24 and 2 thirds, which means if I die when my grandmother died I am already middle aged. Here is my new pledge of 7 things I will not do before I'm 27, 30 and ever, anyone who reads this is responsible for holding me accountable.

before the age of 27 I shall not:

1) listen to radio 4 even for a second, unless someone else has it on. ditto radio 3 and classic fm obviously.

2)start saving for a pention

Before the age of 30 I shall not:

3) buy a bread maker or a national trust membership

4) read adult magazines...and by adult I mean something like 'the economist' not playboy

I will never ever:

5) Shop in Marks and Spencer's

6) feel the social pressure to make homemade cakes when visiting friends, (I'm allowed to home bake but only if I'm doing it out of fun not duty)

7) discuss the stock market or kitchens for more that 10 minutes per year.

Miss Marshmallow

I've started my new job working in lots of different primary schools doing art workshops, I'm not used to cute kids, I'm used to scary scallies who threaten to burn down your house, so it's nice to walk into a class and not be instantly hated. It's pretty good for my genral moral to show an example of my work and here 'woooooow!' and 'when I grow up I want to be just like Monet' and 'Miss can I tell you something.....I just love your curly hair.'

I've discoved schools have changed since I was at school, they seem to have interactive white board in every class and they have banned rubbers from the classroom the idea behind that is to make children carry on working through their mistakes but in reality it means that every time they make a mistake they get a new sheat of paper....what a great way to waste time and trees! I felt quite old this week when I brought in some items for obsevational drawing one of which was a casset tape and year 5s didn't know what it was. They guessed it was a video! I'm not really expecting them to own tape but at least know what they are, I've never owned a record but I know what one looks like. This week I started with the question can anyone remember my name from last week.....hillarious, my best answer was 'Miss Marshmallow'

Peanut Butter

I've been going to a creative writing class....it shocked me at first that I would do something so educational and words based in my spare time, I guess people change. I once said I would never wear a skirt by choice and now I own 8....I once said my favorite colour was florescent pink and gold stripy.....and I once made a bet of £100 that I wouldn't snog a boy by the time I was 17, and Dad you are wrong £100 is still worth a lot even though we are living in the future now, thanks for letting me off though even though there was written evidence. but attually come to think of it what kind of father makes their 7 year daughter old sign a bet like that?!

I've been going to creative writting for a while...usually my writting stays around on my bedroom floor for a few days and then goes in the bin but this time I thought I'd share it, I'm not great at fiction really because I don't like lying but here goes...

I'm waiting in the isle nervously and then I see the worlds most beautiful woman smile as she walks towards me, I'm dressed in my finnist...well tesco's finnist...I am a jar of tesco's finnist peanut butter. 'she's never gonna pick you' a voice calls out it was Gary 'and why's that?' I ask 'she may be a fitty but she's deffo a student, so if she's going home with either of us it will most likely be me' he had a fair point, I thought at first that it would be the glamorous shopers who would want me but it's quite often the middle aged ugly ones.

The lady continued towards us, I tryed to hide my sell by date from her as there were other jars that would last longer than me, Jeffrey and Clive's gang were the new jars, orriginally put at the back but they managed to sneek forwards into prime position at the front of the shelf, it was so unjust! they had all the time in the world, I was best before 30th May 2011.

The lady stoped right in front of us, she had blond curly hair and perfectly applied lipstick, I imagined being on those delicious looking lips, she seemed to look me right in the eye as she reached out her hand and touched my lid. For a second I thought she would take me and I was ready to spend the rest of my life devoted to pleasing this beutiful woman.

Sadly it wasn't to be , she glanced up to the shelf above and picked out Tesco own brand chocolate and hazelnut spread, I caught a glimpse as he was placed in the trolly. It was steve, I don't know him that well he's a friend of a friend really, I'm happy for him of course but not as happy as I would have been for myself, I know I could have impressed that woman with my beutifully formed organic nuts, she would have found me tasty, I bet I could have even achived my ultimate ambition of being eaten straight off a finger.'

Driving

I now have a car! It's not technically mine right now but I'm hoping the more I scratch it the less the parents will want it back. I've found the world of real life driving quite different to being a learner. I never drove with someone carrying a fish tank in the pasenger seat as a learner, and this presents a whole new set of challenges. Also it's pretty weird to drive somewhere for an atual reason, not just for the sake of driving. I think even if I have a car now for the rest of my life I will still always be a cyclist deep down. but I need to remember when I'm driving that I am not a cyclist and that I should try and keep law breaking to a minimum, I'm trying to at least follow may friend Luke's personal rule of not breaking more than one law at once, it is quite a challenge though. I've moved house to a different area of Liverpool so getting into town is a bit more challenging because there's a lot of different options, it's easy enough to set of and just somewhere in town, but to get to somewhere specific it takes a bit of forward planning. On my bike I can just ride on any road that goes west and I'll end up where I want to be eventually, but in a car it's complecated, it's not so sociablely acceptable to go down one way roads the wrong way or drive through parks or go on the pavement when there's a red traffic light.

The one big bonus of driving I thought would be food shopping, I have this thought every time I'm turning right at a major junction with no lights or helmet and a million shoping bags on my handle bars, however I recently discovered the pros of driving your shopping home are almost outweighed by the cons of shopping with a trolly not a basket. I realised that when I had pushed my trolly though the isle where you go to pay and then tryed to squize back to the bit where you put your pin number in and I got traped for quite a long time in between the trolly and the isle. My housemate Amber has never laughed so hard.

Africa for Wimps

I've spent the last to weeks in Uganda, Uganda is like Africa for wimps:

It's hot but not actually too hot because it is mountainous. (a pleasant 25'c all year round)
It's poor but not too dangerous or corrupt because it is a very christian country.
There are other languages but the official main language is English.....see what I mean?

We crammed a lot of stuff into our two week trip, I got to see most the animals from the Lion King which is the best Disney film ever made- probably the best film ever made. We went rafting and body boarding in the Nile and I got to test out some myths about the equator. It turns out the thing about water going clockwise in the north and anti-clockwise in the south is actually true because there was an experiment set up at the equator. even though the bowls were only a few meter apart it was enough to make a difference and the water in the bowl on the equator goes straight down which was weird to watch. The other myth about people walking on there hands in the southern hemisphere turned out to be false.

If you work for channel 5 and want to produce a program entitled something like 'Extraordinary Genitalia' Uganda is the place to go: