I just want to scream!!! I love getting blog comments, and break out in a sweat as soon as I get a little email telling me I've got one. SO isn't it brilliant when that comment turns out to be blog spam, linking you to some shitty porn/advert/seedy search engine site?!!!

Oh I am so furious, surely Blogger should do something about this!

...went out for a farewell/21st dinner with the family tonight and had a lovely time. But felt this underlying feeling of sadness. Being the poetic/romantic old sap I am I think the light had this effect on me. Driving to the restaurant at about 7, in the twilight, with the countryside glowing in this tinged light, made me feel comfortable but sad that this won't last forever. Not long before I'm out carving my own life for myself, not long before I'm back at uni (thrown to the hounds!!!), which I'm also nervous/sad about. Sad because that's coming to end too, and all my uni memories, despite the often-shiteness of the place have that twilight tinge on them too.

I'm going to miss my going-out buddies so much.

Being a x-posting slag...

My newly finished knitting projects, or FOs for those in the know out there!

Why the name change/mystery?

...yes, why indeed? Merely a case of privacy. I too have fallen prey to the common problem us bloggers seem to come across time and time again-people we know reading this blog, i.e.identifcation. And so I kinda join the hallowed (hallowed is obviously my word of the week) ground of Pax and Belle De Jour. Although my joining them is very much self-inflicted and not the glamourous case of someone so desparate to find out who you are because you've created so much intrigue.

Yes, only a prat like me would have her on-screen persona for two different internet profiley-things, and put herself at risk from experiencing one of the three following situations:

• Show one profile to a friend-this friend being the afore-mentioned in none too flattering light, R-therefore becoming suceptible to the intrigue of such friend, who forgets the name of your profile and types it into Google. And bingo, there the hell you are.
• Chatting to people on one profile, people who may be a little obsessed with you (I attract these types, and I say this without a hint of arrogance, I just mean I am so naive I don't sense the internet weirdos out there who Google you and message you every day and think after a brief chat at 2.30am that they know you and it's the beginning of something great. I just chatter away until something like this happens).
• Dearest bruder pops in to pick something up off desk, notices what you are writing and can also potentially Google you later. Particularly when bruder spots a sentence featuring the word "masturbation". This is a problem in that Bruder can see both this pile of wank which none too discreetly discusses my sex life, AND find a few slutty pictures of me pouting in cheap underwear to a lascivious audience of chavs.

The internet is not great for those suceptible to bouts of ludicrous paranoia, i.e. yours truly. I've recently got a Sitemeter account, seeing it as a far more sophisticated way of monitoring traffic to my site (what little of that there is, I hasten to add. Notice also the paranoia of being called arrogant), as opposed to the previous baby-ish counter on my page, a method I've used since my first atrocity of a homepage back in the Nineties. I was attracted to the "referral" feature, where I can see where the visitors come from. I noticed a number came from searches on both my name and the profile site I'd shown friend/met internet weirdo. Searches on MSN, Google and Yahoo. So the cogs of the paranoia machine begin to creak back into action. It's either friend/weirdo/freaky coincidence. I sure as hell hope it's the very latter, otherwise I have some serious grovelling to do if it's the former, or some serious Witness Protection-style relocation net-wise if it's weirdo...

...I'm thinking of getting rid of this other profile. I don't think it really accomplishes the fusion of my sexual and thinking selves like I'd hoped, or portrays me as both serious and in touch with my sexuality :-) Belle writes about both her sexuality and her opinions on the world with intelligence and sophistication. I'm just the bird with a blog and a few trashy photos of herself in underwear spattered on some Chav profile site. I really need to work on the blending of all my different selves...

...Night Of The Living Dead...

I saw this on Sunday night, oooh I loved it!!! Think I may have stumbled on yet another filmic obsession. And they are showing the other two Romero "Dead" films on BBC all this week!!! Doesn't the fact it's in black and white make it seem much much scarier! Just sitting there watching it is like a scene from a horror movie, you know, late at night, up alone in the lounge, some scary B&W flick on the TV. Or maybe that's just me being typically romantic about even the most mundane situations in life. And me being typical me I also sat there pulling apart the film for all sorts of socio-political contexts. Don't do an English degree, it seriously hinders the ability to sit and relax and mindlessly watch telly or partake in any culture just for fun. I've even found myself analysing the lighting and composition of commercials.

***

Finished The Baghdad Blog and thoroughly enjoyed it. Pax is so inspiring, through both his thirst for knowledge and his blogging style. Wish my blog was that well written and popular. The coverage of the Iraq war, from a different perspective to the dry news items we're used to, got me very interested in the details of the conflict. I have been Googling all sorts of Iraq-related stuff I read about first from Pax, and am following the blog from where the book leaves off. Oh, and I just started the book version of the other blog phenomenon Belle De Jour.

***

Ah, and so it's my final week of the holidays. It really did seem like an endless expanse and I have no idea what lies I will spin to my uni pals when they finish off an account of their astounding summer adventures with "And what did you do over the summer?". One can hardly say "Knitted, watched loads of crap on telly, masturbated, blogged, and erm, that's it really.". However, one thing I have been able to do at home, thanks to T4, is work on the counsellor-set goal of making myself more intergrated. And how? I've become a fan of The O.C. Yes, so no more Sunday afternoons skulking off to my room with my tea and the papers while everyone else sits there enthralled at the escapades of Marissa et al. It's pretty decent actually, good mindless telly, with good music. I'm only up to the whole Rebecca coming back/Summer finding Cohen's pictures of her/Marissa struggling with feelings for Alex but I'm getting there. Now I too get to partake in the Sunday afternoon enthrallment (sic?).

On returning to the hallowed campus I regard with such bitter-sweetness, I yet again have mixed feelings. So mixed that I go from tearful memories of how it used to be, and how sad I am that the final strait is now in view, to anger and sadness at the bad bits in one foul swoop. It really is a flip-sided coin. But I am looking foward to going back, putting all the things my counsellor told me into practise, and generally being a functioning being again. One thing I do enjoy about university is the freedom it's given me, being away from home. I exist again. Whereas when I'm at home I feel like I go on pause. And the tiny pleasures a new year of academia still affords, such as stationery shopping (I've spent the last few days debating the merits and such forth of various academic-year diaries on the market. This is important to me. I was very disappointed with the lack of choice in Paperchase though.). Not to mention finally getting to grips with my room. Finally, after a year of being half-unpacked. I will get round to modelling it on the chicness of a bedroom ripped out of the interiors setcion of Grazia.

This year I actually felt not comforted by being at home, like I always do, hence the problems, but more stifled, as though I could see everyone was having fun and doing stuff out there and I was merely hiding behind mummy when things got too tough as opposed to battling it out. I'll never forgive myself for missing the final week of my second year when we were all together for the very last time, packing it all in because of a tantrum. I just want to "grow up" and do stuff.

...here's to the future I guess...

What hope is there for me, really? I was just thinking about my taste in men and my limpness when it comes to telling them where to get off. Seriously, no-one normal would a: even look at these men such is the bastard-ness they exude and b: if they were sucked in, soon tell them to fuck off. Ah but what do I do?

S, considering this whole farce of his has been going on since last December is still worryingly on the scene, still phoning me at 1.30am and still getting civilised and polite conversation in return. Which is surprising since S's idea of being supportive and understanding about my depression, etc is to send me photos of his new girlfriend, posing in her underwear. And who also happens to be rich. blonde and beautiful. Why is my knee-jerk reaction to him not the common "Just fuck the hell off!" but "Oh hey, how are you?". Argh why?!

Another one I seem to have picked up somewhere, like a bit of gum on my shoe, is R from my course, who I met at the wrap party for my documentary/short film module. Now, listent o the warning signs about this guy that I so stupidly ignored...

1. He was talking to a girl, but the way they were behaving made me assume they were a couple, you know, touching, heavy flirting, that sort of thing. Turns out she was a friend. Just a friend apparently.
2. His "friendship" with my friend who introduced us involved him sending her flirty text messages and such, when she had a boyfriend, and he still had a girlfriend.
3. When he was chatting to me, and as per usual, sucking me in with the charm, some other girl was screaming and crying at him to pay her attention, and why was he ignoring her after all the things that he'd said to her, etc. He was just laughing at her and shooing her away like she was some annoying animal.
4. I later discovered his girlfriend was at home. I was unaware of this and his funny ideas about friendship, which involved us nearly sleeping together, me refusing because he "doesn't do condoms". Why do I just spread my legs for anyone who says I'm pretty?!

Seriously, I think signs such as this are more cautionary than a set of warning bells and a neon sign in his head. And still, I chat to him, when he only MSNs me not for a general friendly chat but because he is horny and loves thinking of me when he wanks. I get on better with this guy than S but I still think I should keep this one at arms length. "Oh you reckon(!)". And why do I still send grovelling text messages when he pisses me off with his one track mind and I snap out of confusion, because as far as I am concerned, we are just friends, and my friendships with other men don't involve me telling them on MSN how I'd love to suck their dick.

I agree, I'm no saint/innocent victim in this. And I should stop ranting about it and simply tell them to fuck off. But I hate being treated like a fool all the time by men, I just seem to be a magnet for this sort of guy, while my friends get chatted up by sweet guys who either become good mates or even boyfriends. And they can tell who's gonna be a bastard and who's gonna be for keeps.

What is wrong with me?!!!

Lol, a cultural rant...on a film I saw last night...

Well, saw this late last night on Channel 4. I'd wanted to see it for a while, I remember the furor in the tabloid press, Daily Mail in particular, when it was first released, and was expecting to be truly horrifed by a film that apparently should never have been released by the censors. It was shocking, and I must admit I was creeped out by the whole premise of the thing, but I can't see why it should have been banned. I'd also heard about the novel it was based on in the book Leadville by Edward Platt, a really good read about the redevelopment of the Western Avenue in London and the general effects of urbanisation on those who live around it and on the world as a whole.

I could see the whole idea of the relationship between man and technology, the automobile in particular, through the way the film was shot, especially in regards to the relationship between human sexuality and technology. Sex has been used to sell cars for a long time, and the scene where Gabrielle, disfigured and crippled in a car accident, rubs herself up against a sleek Mercedes in a car showroom was reminsicent of many a car commercial. Moreover the film began with the whole sexual idea of the blending of human flesh and metal when Ballard's partner Catherine rubs her naked breast on the metal of an airplane. I guess the idea of flesh and metal blending, through horrific crashes, could be seen in the context of the film as a sex act between man and machine, or the power of metal over flesh? There was definately the sense of the glamour society evokes by sex in, on or near vehicles. And the thought-provoking idea of the sense of glamour when stars and cars quite literally go together. As the film rightly points out, there is a sense of legend about the deaths of celebrities in road accidents, such as James Dean, the decapitation of Jane Mansfield, and the later death of Diana, Princess of Wales. Maybe I'm looking a little too much into this, indeed I'm sure the film was made before her death, but one car park scene begins with a shot of a huge black Mercedes like the one Diana died in. Hmmm, maybe significant, not deliberately of course, but in the context of future events.

Another idea explored was the way in which technology is overtaking the population. There are many eerie scenes in car scrapyards where a lone character is surrounded by acres of cars, as well as the shots of millions of cars slithering across an endless landscape of roads. Ballard and his partner live in a tower block overlooking the motorways. Very Le Courbusier. The characters talk about the ever increasing volume of traffic. The scene where Vaughn, Ballard and Catherine ogle a motorway pile was also well shot in this context, yet again showing the metal jungle and man's battle against machine, as firefighters work to free the injured with metal tools to aid them. As the film goes on, it seems man cannot exist without car. Vaughn fantasises about Catherine having a car accident, and pushes her body into disfiguring positions of a crash victim as he has sex with her. Vaughn sees the automobile as a weapon of power, as he tries, and eventually succeeds in crashing into other vehicles.
Perhaps the film could also be seen as discussing the idea of how technology is alientating and warping society. The characters are loners, not really interacting with greater society, you never see anyone else but them in pretty much the whole film. They live in the world of the car, and worship it's powers in the most carnal sense. The fact that they are aroused by cars and not mere sex both explores the sexual connotations attatched to the automobile but it's ability to alienate. Society makes love to it, and not to each other. The automobile, supposedly a safer, more convienient form of transport, is not only leading to horrifc human and environmental injury but warping society in it's need to seek yet more danger in a world of ever increasing safety. Moreover, it is shown how close one is to total destruction, one swerve, one error when on the road and your life and body can be changed forever.

I'd love to read the novel, and many more by Ballard, I've been reading about him online, and I'm intrigued by his constant exploration of life in a modern urban landscape. Whilst I haven't got the finer nuances of his work, the film, whilst not the best I've ever seen was certainly thought-provoking and well shot. I think I was expecting a very linear storyline and much more horror but it was a more thoughtful film than that I guess.

***

There's been some really good films on TV this week actually. The Great Gatsby is on tonight, and The Rainmaker was on last night which I unfortunately missed, as I did Monster's Ball and Legally Blonde on Sunday. I've yet to get a scart lead for my video here at home, whereas my video and box at university are like a piece of military equipment, tuned and programmed to within an inch of their life. I'm a bit of a stinge, if I can wait to see a film on TV then I will, as opposed to paying a fiver for renting something out. Getting into your PJs with a bit of knitting while you watch a late-night film on TV is one of my weirdest pleasures! Asphalt Jungle was on BBC Two on Saturday night which I thoroughly enjoyed! Although, I'm really tempted by LoveFilm.com, where you can rent an unlimited amount of DVDs for £20 a month. Still, I must make more effort to leave my room! It seems that any interests I develop are of the solitary kind, whereas most people simply make an effort to take up a team sport I merely decide to immerse myself in books, films, music and news...

...Mariah Carey-esque psycho blog rant ahead...

My sporadic posting resumes. Only because last Tuesday's trip to London left me really glowing, and then I got pissed off and depressed again yesterday so I'm doing all the stuff I enjoy to keep that glow up.

Ah it was lovely. Frida Kahlo at the Tate Modern, lunch in Chinatown (bento boxes at Ikkyusan in Gerrard Street, mmm, would recommend it!), and shopping/wandering in the West End (including a very fun spree in Surprise Surprise at the Swiss Centre which resulted in a pimp-tastic fur coat for £15!). Seriously, it's that feeling I only get after a major workout. I was flying!!! Plus earning £120 for doing nothing in DFS all weekend helped! Nice to know I still have a great deal in common with my oldest friend!

...but obviously as time passed I slid back to wallowing in it, getting up in time for the lunchtime news and being generally bitter and twisted and making my mum cry. So today, I've decided having childish tantrums a month shy of my 21st is a little passe. So I'm keeping up my glow...

Today on the internet I've discovered a couple of inspirational photoblogs (I want a photoblog. All I need is a camera...); and ordered loads of wool and bits for a knitting project: Hello Yarn's very cute Fulled Lopi Tote and gorgeous turquoise wool from Knitshop, so I can make afore-mentioned fluffy bag for my uni friend who's off to Germany for the next year!

***

Allegra's worryingly instantaneous attraction to bastards continues...I've developed a crush on cricketing love-rat Shane Warne. All anyone needs to get me all in a tizz is bleached hair, a few earrings and a habit of trouser-dropping (as illustrated). Warney bears a startling resemblance to rugby-playing love-rat S, the inspiration for previous rants on here not too long ago. I guess it's my genetic prgramming to get aroused at the sight of blonded athletic love-rats.
Even more worrying is that the man likes animal print on a woman-I found my heart leaping as he drooled over Jerry Hall's zebra-print Manolos on The Bigger Picture last night. Mind you, Warney doesn't seem the sort of guy to squeal as he peruses the pages of Vogue. Or even read Vogue for that matter. I think(!) what got him going was the fact Jerry Hall was in the shoes. But still, talk about proverbial red rags and bulls. Now if that's not a motive for the epiphany of my rhinestone studded leopardskin handbag I don't know what is.
But on a serious note...what hope is there for me?! I've tried everything to resist the inevitable, from reading unflattering kiss and tells, of which there's plenty, to looking at pictures like the one above, to the fact that Shane Warne is quite simply, fat. And that I haven't a clue about cricket.
Oh dear, I think I need some bromine in my tea come Thursday...


Anyway, I'm off to watch Byker Grove (knitting, Shane Warne, Byker Grove, my life doesn't get more exciting than this does it?!)...ttfn.