Another update, say what now?

Like seasons, lacklustre pop songs and crushes on Pokemon characters, a desire to write is a transitory possession. Sometimes even so transitory to the point where it can only truly be passed off as laziness, which in my case, is correct. I honestly wish that I could tell you all about my adventures traversing the globe, saving (th)orphans and cavorting with attractive, intelligent young men coated in pudding - but in fact, my life over the past couple of months has been totally deprived of the aforementioned. Just familial arguments, fuckloads of homework and my main intention - to coerce my French teacher into thinking I'm emo.

I felt inspired to write today because last week marked the definite end of what had to be the worst winter ever. Really, I don't know how our teachers can label us as arrogant little shits when really, they'd be reacting the same way if they were stuck outside in the freezing corridors for three months with only the warmth accumulated by undefined mass of rolled fabric at the top of our ridiculous, intentionally-short skirts that come close to exposing one's genitalia in a smog of black tight. Having had that minor rant, I've never been more excited at the arrival of spring. After all, hayfever and suicidal lemmings seem totally incidental when there is warmth and the scent of flowers to be had! Good lord, I'm screwed up...

Anyway, that'll do me. I promise promise promise you I'll never quote the Hellacopters on this thing again, purely because it dawned on me a few nights ago that just like seasons, lacklustre pop songs, crushes on Pokemon characters, a desire to write, the Raveonettes, a passion for the Chicken Dance, water spilt on a floor, milk that isn't yet expired, superficialness, Razr scooters, dodgy MySpace photos, prophylactics, life and anything else you can think of... they are transitory possessions.


Peace and love,

xx