And so the dance ends

Wow. Big icons passing away lately..and the new generation of talentless celebrities are moving in.. Great. Kids of real stars, socialites, drinking, sexing and drugging their way into the public eye..

Ouch

Just in time

Class at 0930

My nude awakening

Today, I made up a new word.
It is:

NudieBoard:

A collection of images from trashy magazines of things you like in compromising positions, with a similar colour scheme. ie. flesh tones.

Example:
Phyl: So I have this mood board of the things that I like. Purple and pink things yknow?
Syl: No you don't! It's all in flesh tones! NUDE
Mozz: It's a NUDIEBOARD!!

The need for Speed

I know it's dreadful but sometimes, I wish things would just get on with it. I feel like everything is going way too slowly for my liking. Stop and start.
And so, I feel the need for Speed. The pills. The pace. Take it as you will, but I need it.
Exams are finally over and I slugged my way through the first 2 weeks of dissertation time. Although I was having a weekly meeting with my tutor, I just didn't DO anything until the last 2 days, and that's only because he set a deadline.

No matter how much I complain about it, I kinda feel the need for urgency. The feeling that things HAVE to happen because if they don't, the consequences are unthinkable.
The whole applying thing for Korea is going SO slowly because jobs for October/Novemeber aren't even out yet! So I'm just sitting on my hands, waiting for something to happen.
Why am I constantly waiting? Why is so impossible to just go out and get what I want/need.

Who would have thought I would still be whinging about waiting and stemmed-creativity and angsty teenage-ness well into my 20s. Because really, that's what I am now. TWENTY ONE! Holy mofo and what have I got to show for it?! I've done nothing I want to do.
I'm beginning to think I should write a 'To do by 30' list. Then maybe I'll have some DIRECTION.

Green Tea.

You're the one who'll be drugged to get wed to Gyasi and you'll get married in that Ilford Cultural centre.
Or if you're really swanky, in the East London Msque Hall. And you'll turn up in some old school merc outside ELM and you'll be wearing a black coat over your wedding outift.
Which would be a REALLY glittery red ...and gold.....


JEANS AND HOODY!
Then Gyasi will turn up with a giant beard, dressed in that brown duffle coat of his, in a safari jeep. And Yoshi will turn around and go, OMG, Gyasi's grown a beard. And she'll have that face on.
Then, she'll spot Mooby, hot on Gyasi's heels and say 'O he's nice' and she'll be planning how to do the bridesmaid-best man connection thing.
When SUDDENLY, MI6 arrive and cart off Gyasi. Why? Because he is brown, young, bearded and from East London.
And so you'll have to marry Mooby! And Yoshi will be hugely jealous....UNTIL!!
HiMar arrives! All dressed up in black and white checked regalia. And makes the announcement!! THAT LEON IS SUNNI!!
And Yoshi rushes into his arms!
And the Mullah begins the process of marrying Yoshi/Leon and You/Mooby.
But THEN!
Nimbura grabs the mic...to make ANOTHER announcement...he seems serious.
'Could the owner of the Aston Martin Vanquish double marked by the 80s merc (the bridal vehicle) please remove itself. It is blocking up the main road'
Typical East london style.
BUT BUT BUT!!
It's none other than Bafta! And she comes running!!
To announce that she has fallen for Nimbura and they are getting married!
SHOCKER OF THE CENTURY!!
You faint.
Yoshi faints.
NIMBURA faints!!
Bafta realises she's not making sense and has been drugged! SO SHE FAINTS TOO!!
It was something in her tea.
I'm left holding the mic with the hall spontaneously FAINTING around me...
AND THEN!!
AND THEN! Daniel Henney walks in! AND HE PROPOSES TO ME!!
I ask him if I'll be able to tell people or whether we should keep it quiet. He says it's fine and he'll pick me up after the wedding.
And like a dream, he leaves.
BUT THEN YOU GUYS COME AROUND! And I try and try and try to tell you he came and proposed! But none of you believe me.
I think it may have been something in my tea.
The Mullah returns after his extended bathroom break and you guys try to marry me off to him! Since he's he only single guy going!
AND THEN!
GUACAMOLE GETS IN ON THE ACTION!
She swans in on the arm of that french model dude.
But....her eyes meet with someone's across the room...
She slips away from the model man...
She's drifting across the 'dancefloor'...
Past the DJ you hired to play bhangra...
Dodging the mad Xena and her dance partner Ras Malaaaaaaaaaaaaaaai..
Shoes sticking to the fallen jalebis and the party popper strings we popped earlier in announcement of yours and Mooby's wedding..
AND STRAIGHT INTO THE ARMS OF NONE OTHER THAN JACK DANIELS!!

SHOCKER OF THE MILLENIUM!!
Meanwhile, Bafta is coming around, and now wants Jack Daniels too.
Nimbura feels on more steady ground and goes and marries his best friend in secret...
Bafta and Guacamole start fighting..
with...
KHUSSAY! (the shoes) from UNZE, Green street. Buy one get one half price. This week only.
AND THEN! MI6 burst in and drop Gyasi back in the action!
He gets completely pummelled in the Guacamole/Bafta war for JD.
You rip off the glittery hood of your glittery hoody to shield him. 'Everybody! DROP THE UNZE!', you cry.
Guacamole and Bafta are blinded by the bling and stumble backwards, losing their footing. And foot wear.
There's a sharp intake of breath from everyone.
SCREECH's HAIR!!!
The thing we have all seen 3cm of, but no more!!
IS EXPOSED!!
Everybody stops.
Freeze this frame people. Let's see where we all are:
Guacamole and Bafta have fallen over due to the blinded-ness.
JackDaniels is chuckling alone, with his gaggle of girls around him....so not so alone I guess.
Leon and Yoshi are trying to find a halal 'room'.
HiMar has gone back to being militant.
Nimbura is outside trying to steal the Vanquish with his new wifey while Bafta is still stunned. The new Bonnie and Clyde.
I'm still trying to convince people that Henney came and LEFT while y'all were unconscious. In fact, I'm shouting it into the ear of a decrepit granny with slippers.
MI6 are looking at us all like we're freaks.
And you're standing in the middle of it all with no hood on your hoody (from footlocker; closing down sale. Credit crunch you know).
Being your wedding planner, I grab the nearest shiny thing and chuck it at your head.
It turns out, the thing I've just chucked at your head is the foil paper from the main curry dish for your wedding meal.
A lone tear of curry makes it's way down the side of your face,
THEN CORMMA ARRIVES! The coven of recently married medics' association. All self righteous and thinking they're better than the singletons.
They start to pair people up:
Nimbura is long gone with the car.
Mooby and Bafta decide to get it together.
Guacamole marries Jack Daniels.
You marry Gyasi.
Yoshi and Leon have 'disappeared' (but 9 months later a very halal baby comes into the world, named ELMA after the mosque).
CORMMA leaves feeling very smug.
But then...
People start to take pity on me..
Because I'm alone.
And apparently crazy on my drugged tea.
Then the Mullah rips off his beard and thobe!
TO REVEAL HE IS DANIEL HENNEY!
AND MUSLIM!
AND HE PRESIDED OVER ALL YOUR WEDDINGS!!
And you guys were trying to marry me off to the mullah earlier and all along it was him!
He's presenting me with a ring!
We start to sing for all the newly weds.
We sing Aint no Mountain High Enough, to demonstrate that you guys have come and crossed many boundaries to get married..
MI6 men are crying in the corner. They think Muslims are beautiful and wonderful
And all the wars in the muslim world end. And then DH announces he has 4 cinderella carriages waiting outside!! And a white charger for him and me.
Turns out, he had got the pumpkins from the local market and had some fairy magic work from Prozac! Prozac the manic depressive fairy! (his parents weren't expecting him to end up the way he did clearly. He inherited the recessives..)
Prozac felt he had to do a good deed to get back in with us lot. He figured, doing the carriages was the least he could do.
So DH and I get onto the horse. And as the brides are getting into their carriages, you notice there's already a resident in yours!
It's SOLEIT! SHE MADE IT TO THE WEDDING AFTER ALL!!
Not only that! She fell in love with an MI6 agent!! A BROWN MAN!
She gets out and hops onto her MI6 agent man's motorbike, and they ride off into the sunset. She flies a banner as they leave. From a distance, we can just about read what it says: 'Abstain from pain!'
The brides proceed to get into the carriages.
Husbands ride on top. The way guys ride on trains in bollywood movies.
And we ride down to whitechapel.
Where all the people of East London unite in an amazingly choreographed dance spectacular!
Everyone has matching outfits, smiles and does the same dance moves in time!
Traffic stops as people dance around the traffic lights in saris and dhotis.
And everyone is joyful.

THE END

Social Convention

Social convention and courtesy. I'm finding it a real trial.
The little courtesies that must be followed in order to prevent estrangement.
You'd think that I'd be above the playground politics by now. Definitely not.

I believe that the Dictator has destroyed me. Broken me down. After building me up in the first year, breaking me down to my most basic of elements, ie. the solitary me, in the second, I'm waiting for the gentle rebuilding of the new me in the final year.

I had an epiphany over the summer. A moment where suddenly it all became clear to me. Out with the old, in with the new I say. Tired of social convention, and tired of being nice when I dont want to be. Sick of making such an effort with people when they do not return the favour.
The people of the Dictator have actually destroyed my spirit. That saying, it isn't possible for something to do something to you unless you let it. My meaning being, I have let things overwhelm me.

But in this Autumn, I am beginning my own personal rennaissance. It will be brilliant... a masterpiece. Out with all these fripperies and finery of false joviality. I will smile. I will be happy. I will leave those from the past and take in my future.
The time is now. Am I ready for it...


I'm going to bake a cake and mull this over.

This moment..is wondrous.

Im sitting on a bench in Sloane square,feeling the rumble of the train beneath me, reading a book and generally just watching the crisp red leaves fall. I find myself strangely happy. The air around has that finger numbing bitterness of cold and change which is just SO london, and it feels right. This moment. I wish it could go on like this but then the banality would set in. I would habituate. And like every other londoner,i would begin to complain.
But. They say you know, you just know,when something feels right.

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

I'm dancing to some mellow jazz at a wedding and it appears that I am in a white wedding dress. Beehive hairstyle. Very 60s bollywood. This is all very odd.

Then, I spot this man sitting at one of the (round) tables on the edge of the dancefloor, watching me. I walk over to him and I clearly know him. He's an older man, broad in chest and shoulders but lean all over. Navy gorgeously cut suit. And rather attractive.

I have good taste.

'What are you doing here?' I ask.

'I'm here to see you' he answers as he stands.

He shakes out a giant piece of white chiffon as he begins to move to the music with me. He tosses it into the air, and it lands on my head but instead of looking like a buffoon, it lands like a bridal veil.

We continue to move until he says we need to talk. Together we leave the dancefloor and sit at a table on our lonesomes at the back of the hall.

He puts a box on the table and it's clear I've been waiting for this.

I open the box and inside is a Tiffany's box.

Inside the box is this hideous monster of a ring, with no stone! My jaw drops and he laughs at me.

'Open the ring' he says. I proceed to unscrew what should have been the stone and find yet another flat metal expanse with a Tiffany's logo engraving.

Clocking onto what's going on now, I uscrew that. Again, flat metal and Tiffany's.

My ring was some sort of russian doll thing hmm? So I continue in this theme, until I'm thinking ' My diamond must be miniature'..

I keep going though, until I reach what must be the last casing. My sister has arrived on the scene at this point. I unscrew and again my jaw drops. There is nothing there.

He sits and laughs as he shows me a hidden compartment in the box which I completely missed.

He opens something shaped like a bullet casing and inside is a coloured diamond about 2.5 carats big. Putting it in my hand, he asks me to marry him.

Gazing at the stone in my palm, I hear my sister telling me to take it and marry him.

Looking from diamond to him and back, I tell him I need to think about it because suddenly I am daunted by the fact that this stone, once made into a ring cements the fact that I'm marrying him. For EVER.

We sit and we have dinner together and then --

knockknock

O sweet aargh...I am woken by builders knocking on my door.

What did the dream mean? I have no idea. I had no time to contemplate it as I hurriedly donned something vaguely acceptable and went to explain where the door and window should be in the developing extension.

Post-Script

Sometimes, I feel that it would have been better to have left some things and people as mere ink spills on the pages of the past.

Instead, I invite them into chapters of the future.

'Big mistake. Huge.'

I do not trust those who laugh too easily.

Why, with no laughter at our lips, does laughter reach through our fingers to the letters L, O, and L?

To laugh out loud is a biggie in my sphere of things. Especially at something I’ve read online and specially at something that someone has written in an msn conversation.

‘LOL’

What a space filler. It’s as though you’re avoiding the empty space between two relevant lines of conversation and have decided to fill it with lol. No. That’s not right. No one has made a joke. There’s nothing even remotely funny to even chuckle about.

‘LOL’

People who use ‘lol’ as punctuation make me want to rip my scarf off, then my hair out, then my face off. I growl at thee. ‘How are you, lol’, ‘Lol Happy Birthday’.
I mean, those are good examples. There are capital letters in that but seriously, lol for beginning or ending sentences? ON FACEBOOK?! Unless you’re batting a conversation back and forth on message/wall/chat, there is absolutely no space for lol on facebook.

‘LOL’

Unless, something really amusing comes along. How often does something ACTUALLY make you laugh-out-loud? Online, on screen, facebook, msn, youtube whatever. I’ve physically laughed out loud reading some articles, seeing some pictures, watching some videos. But most of the time, it’s an inward chuckle or a mini snort through my nose. Never laughing out loud. On these occasions I personally type ‘ha’ or ‘hehehe’ or I do a smilie face like so, :).

So why is it that something like lol is thrown in so casually everywhere. I mean, it’s getting even worse with LMAO and ROFL and dare I say it ROFLMAO. These, I understand you don’t actuallydo. I mean, it’s impossible to laugh an ass off, and I’ve tried! They’re just to emphasise how hard you’re laughing. But when they’re tossed in as casually as lol. Well that takes the biscuit.

‘I do not trust those who laugh too easily. The heart of a fool is in the house of mirth.’