Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Robert Burns - 1900 to 2200

Sometimes, I worry greatly about my friends and their stupidity.

Don't get me wrong, they are extremely intelligent, but some of the things they come out with, and some of the things they do? Well...

... They worry me.

Day started off just perfectly. All of our bus (the majority of them were school kids) were sitting down, patiently waiting for our stop. What usually happens, is:
  • a) someone stands up and everyone else follows suit, resulting in the bus driver to use his initiative and stop the bus at the next bus stop
  • b) someone presses the bell, indicating that someone wants to get off, resulting in the bus driver stopping the bus at the next bus stop
  • c) someone is waiting to get on at the next bus stop,  resulting in the bus driver stopping the bus at the next bus stop
Yeah... none of them happened today, resulting in the bus driver driving past the next bus stop.

This is why life would be much simpler if bus-drivers could read your mind.

Scrap that idea.


I love Tuesday's, if only for this reason alone. Getting to spend nearly an hour of the morning with Abie really brightens up my day.

I remember crying with laughter and wiping my tears on my copy of "Sweet Bird Of Youth". Rubbish play, sorry Williams!

Laura and Lauren came round, putting up posters for a Burns supper.
ABIE: Who's holding it?
LAURA: Don't know.
ABIE: Oh... That's good(!) Put a poster over there! *points to the front door* 
*Lauren wonders over to front door and places the poster, information pointing inwards*
ABIE: No! The other way!
*Lauren looks skeptical*
LAUREN: Yeah, 'cause that looks good! *wanders off*
ABIE: *looks offended* Well, you didn't have to take my advice!
ME: Nope! And that is a good idea as well, going to get a lot of publicity.
ABIE: Yeah! They are going to get all of the *her mouth freezes, as though she's trying to say something beginning with P, but failing miserably. This lasts for ten seconds or so before we both burst into fits of laughter* 
We don't even realise what we're laughing at ourselves most of the time. 


Megan took me along to see Mrs McDonald, you know, for the jaunt. 

She noticed the Burns supper poster and started reading it curiously:
MEGAN: Who's doing it?
ME: No-one knows... note even Laura and Lauren knew, and they were the ones hanging it up! 
MEGAN: *reads* 1900 to 2200... he lived for a bloody long time!
ME: *confused* 1900 to 2... That's the time you idiot! 
Now celebrating his 112th Birthday!

Megan did not like the fact that these posters made a fool of her...
ME: What are you going to do, write on the poster?

You guessed it.

We spent the next ten minutes of our life running around school, adding "7pm to 10pm" to every single poster we could find.

What we both find hilarious was the fact that there was no posters on the third floor... Laura and Lauren were too lazy to make their way up there!

You can just imagine them preparing for 
the climb...

We went back to the hotbar after that treck, to say Happy Birthday to Andrew, who got into trouble.
ZOE: You kept that quiet!
ME: What was he supposed to do, run around school screaming "IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!"
Someone asked if he was now 18, Andrew shook his head
ANDREW: Nope, just 17.
TABLE: Awwww.
ME: Are you going to be learning to drive?
ANDREW: Once my driving instructor is out of hospital!
ME: Oh... I hope it wasn't any of his students that put him in there!
ANDREW: No.. not unless he's in there because of Dougal. Stress maybe? 

Terrible flashbacks to the weeks on end that I was editing the same damn pictures background.
MEGAN: Where are you going?
ME: Down to the end room to put these pictures onto the computer...
ZOE, MEGAN AND SARA: *groan* Please say you're not going to be editing them!

Yeah, I'm editing them again... but only removing the background! So it isn't that difficult.

Zoe was given a terrifying album artwork by Mr McDonald. It was of  a demon thing holding a woman in his hand.

Megan wonders over and gives the priceless commentary of:
MEGAN: Oh, he would destroy her! 
They were talking about wedgies as well, and how awkward it is when you are picking a wedgie and someone stands behind you whist you do it...

I've never experienced this problem personally, but hey ho, there's a first time for everything.


Our English teacher revealed that she has had a past addiction...

Drugs? Drink? Not exactly...
STRUTHERS: You know the game bejeweled? I went through a period where I became quite obsessed with it... At the weekend, I ended up playing it for two hours straight. I went to sleep and when I closed my eyes, all I could see were these moving blocks. *our class laughs* Oh, it gets worse! My bathroom has these multi-coloured tiles, so I was having a bath and I was *mimes* moving these tiles around trying to get a hyper-cube. Yeah... I got someone else to delete that game off of my phone after that.
JORDAN: Someone else? Was it that bad? 
*Ms Struthers laughs and smiles knowingly... It was that bad.* 
That was basically the only happy moment in English... We were analysing Plath's poems (Enough to make you depressed for the rest of eternity) and we had just began to get into the darker stuff. 

And they don't get much darker than 'Poppies in July'
"Little poppies, little hell flames,Do you do no harm?
You flicker. I cannot touch you.I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns
And it exhausts me to watch youFlickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.
A mouth just bloodied.Little bloody skirts!
There are fumes I cannot touch.Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?
If I could bleed, or sleep! If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!
Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,Dulling and stilling.
But colorless. Colorless."

Not going to lie, it depressed me.

It's basically about feeling numb and harming yourself in order to feel... well... something. In addition to the self-harm, Plath is also talking about numbing emotional pain through substance abuse. But the temporary solutions separate Plath from her ability to write and to feel alive... 

Cheery... right?

It made me feel uncomfortable. I think it's because I can relate to it, on some sick level. 

Don't worry, I'm not going to stick my head in an oven (ours is electric anyway) anytime soon.

The lyrics "You say you're really hurting, at least you're feeling something" springs to mind.

Lauren xxx