Since, well, the beginning of college, I’ve envisioned this day: sat at home, not college, with all my A-level exams finished. Nothing to revise for and worry about for nearly four months. And, don’t get me wrong, I can see that this is great and it’s just what I need. I love summer and I love the opportunity to get things done and revisit hobbies. But for some reason, things all feel a little lacklustre. My exams are finished, but I feel no sense of accomplishment.
Regardless of your beliefs, the idea of Hell should conjure up images of misery and despair, pain and suffering, chaos and disorder, anguish and, most importantly, a complete and utter lack of any hope or sense of future. It’s where you go to be punished, and thus it’s where you’d never, ever willingly go – no matter how cheap or tasty you find the food there. Which is why I think McDonald’s might actually be Hell on Earth.
You may or may not know (and again, I use the elusive “you” as if there’s some sort of silent, consistent audience out there, eagerly awaiting to read my stupid posts) that I ‘run’ the teeny-tiny music channel blackslushie which is a matter of me occasionally browsing the #dreampop tag on Bandcamp for hours on end until I find an album I like and sharing it with my small but very lovely following. This channel spawned after the short-lived hiatus of TheLazyLazyMe, as I wanted to continue the sharing and discovery of unknown yet very talented bands and artists. Without further ado, here are some of the artists I’ve discovered in my time that you need to check out this April (and no, I know nothing about music, just that my ears enjoy it):
(I can’t write. I have now transformed into a ball of stress and anxiety and dread. I am eating so much rice right now I might as well be a grain of rice. AGHHHHH. No idea what this is. I literally just found it in my ‘JUNK’ folder. My mother is not dying.)
i think i’ll order a takeaway tonight
my mother is dying
I did (kind of) say in my previous post that now begins my spiral into exclusive Megan Boyle-esque confessional writing that is uncomfortably honest and possibly really fucking boring, but I’ve committed to it now and there’s no stopping me. I thought this would be a good place to start – it’s at least not totally unfamiliar territory. I’ve discounted my primary school teachers, both because I can’t remember a single thing about a good chunk of them and also because none of them were exclusively English teachers. To quote Kimya Dawson: ‘There are some nice teachers / And there are some mean teachers / Just because you have a mean teacher / Doesn’t mean all teachers suck’…
(I’ve also anagrammed all my teachers’ names, both because I like anagrams and also because I don’t want to get sued or anything).
Like with 100% of my problems, I like to ignore the fact that I can’t write anymore. Now, it’s okay to pretend my shelves don’t need urgently dusting, but not writing is probably a much more pressing problem. Writing is (unfortunately) a huge part of my identity. So is reading, and I haven’t being doing a whole lot of that either. But as university creeps closer – and, keep in mind, I’ll be studying Creative Writing – I’m really struggling to ignore this problem any longer. Like, it’s now surpassed trying to finish Inside No. 9 before my Netflix trial runs out.
Look, I’ve always been pretty vocal about vegetarianism. And by vocal I mean I might share a Humane League post about turkeys around Christmas time on Facebook, or awkwardly explain, “Well, ‘cos I love animals,” when interrogated after refusing a bag of Haribos at a school competition. But I did feel very strongly about not eating meat, and about animal rights. It was how I was raised. However, I never really gave veganism a proper thought. Granted, going vegetarian is still an excellent first step, but I think few vegetarians realise the impact of the dairy and egg industry – and that included me. I avoided leather, but that was my bit.