“You didn’t lose a child to autism. You lost a child because the child you waited for never came into existence. That isn’t the fault of the autistic child who does exist, and it shouldn’t be our burden. We need and deserve families who can see us and value us for ourselves, not families whose vision of us is obscured by the ghosts of children who never lived. Grieve if you must, for your own lost dreams. But don’t mourn for us. We are alive. We are real. And we’re here waiting for you.”—
E4’s been playing every series for a while now. I started watching a year ago, about halfway through the final series, and then followed through when the first started back up again. I just put today’s episode on, and it’s the very first episode I watched properly which means that I know it’s drawing to a close, and I know everything from here on.
I’m still watching until the finale, but I do a feel a bit sad. It’s the end of my little Gilmore Girls era, which, really, was all of Year 13. And without wanting to sound like an even bigger sap, it serves as further proof that things really are coming to an end around this time.
I know it’s a little silly because it’s ‘just a show’, but even so. There was something comforting about being able to come home every day, drop on the sofa, and watch a show that I’d known since day one unfold.
I was doing so well when it came to posting one a day.
Day Twelve Things you want to say to an ex
- Firstly, I hate the term ‘ex’. It makes me cringe though I can’t quite place why. - I’m ignoring technicalities and saying that I refuse to believe they count.
Day Thirteen A date you would love to go on
Does anybody actually do those ones that were in old teen movies anymore? As in, bowling and a film? They seemed cute, though I don’t know how much I’d enjoy them personally. I don’t know. Whatever it is, it couldn’t involve a meal where you have to sit opposite the other person and talk; it hasn’t got anything to do with wanting to give off some illusion that I don’t eat - I just tense up and knock things over etc.
Day Fourteen Something disgusting you do
I want to say ‘your mum’ so badly.
Whenever I get a small cut, I squeeze as much blood out of it as I possibly can. I don’t really get any satisfaction out of it other than the knowledge that it looks far more dramatic than it actually is.
I remember a couple of summers ago, there was this brief period where I couldn’t sleep until six in the morning. I’d pace up and down the kitchen and play Lover, You Should’ve Come Over on repeat for an hour or so every night.
I fell asleep yesterday and so I didn’t do Day 10. I’ll do both here.
Day 10 Your views on drugs and alcohol
Different strokes for different folks. I don’t do drugs, and I don’t really drink. I was actually talking about this with some people earlier. I just dislike the smell of most alcoholic drinks, and so I don’t see the point of drinking something that I’ve already been put off of before I’ve even tasted it. Of course, there are a lot that don’t seem obviously alcoholic. It’s not so much the taste (though that is a big factor) as it is everything that goes with it. If you want to have a good time, I have very little against that provided you don’t harm anyone else, and if alcohol is what you need, I don’t really have any room to judge.
There is, however, something about the idea of drinking itself - no, the idea of people my age drinking - that makes me roll my eyes a little. Because whenever I’m around a bunch of drunk adolescents, they seem like irritating children playing dress up. Whenever I think of a seventeen year old drinking, I imagine a loud and obnoxious thing in a TopShop dress, tottering around on heels and trying their hardest to look as adult as they can. I’ve put up with tears and drunken confessions and excitable hands, and it is amusing to a degree, but I’d rather not be associated with that sort of embarrassment; I do enough for that already without alcohol. I won’t say that I’ve never had a drink or that I refuse every single time I’m offered, because that isn’t true. There just isn’t any way for me to say that I don’t mind a drink - without a disclaimer - without giving off the impression that I’m not what instantly springs to mind (at least, my mind) when a seventeen year old says that they do.
I know this sounds like I’m some sort of haughty priss who thinks they have the higher ground, and it really isn’t like that at all. I don’t view myself as any more mature, just less comfortable surrounded by sudden extroverts shoving cups of unappealing liquid in my face.
Day 11. Your current relationship, if single discuss how single life is.
As tempted as I am to write an essay on my life as a serial polygamist with food-related items (fridge, kitchen in general…), I’ll stick with the single part.
It’s good. I’ve never been one of these people who needs to be with someone to feel happy. Not that I know a lot of these people, but I can say with certainty that they do exist. So yeah, I’m good. Hurrah.
Today’s the last day of school. There’ll be individual lessons after half term, revision sessions, but this is the last day where we come in at 8.30 and get registered in our form rooms etc. And I’m spending it at home.
Everybody’s dressing up today, and I was looking forward to it; I’ve had my costume planned for a couple of weeks and I had more or less everything ready. Of course, I somehow managed to fall asleep at five last night. Not in the morning, but the afternoon. I slept for thirteen and a half hours. I woke up feeling refreshed (if not a little disorientated) and went about getting ready. And then I turned into a mess and I am now curled up, about to make a cup of tea, wondering what everybody is doing to celebrate our last day.
It’s not that I’m glad I’m not going in; if anything, I really wanted to watch the assembly and see all the costumes and take tons of pictures. But the more I think about it, the more this does seem like the most appropriate last day for me to have. I’ll be hearing about it non-stop from people at school until the day I leave for university in September/October, no doubt. And I can always find pictures, I suppose.
Ah well. I plan on watching Movie Friday films and baking some CHSG cupcakes. To eat. By myself.
Hey I found you through tracked tags and wanted to ask a few questions about you!
What is your favourite..
2) tv show
Who do you talk to most on..
Which 5 blogs do you reccommend..
…is - is this real?
Favourites: I have too many to mention for all of these. 1. At the moment, avocado and mayonnaise sandwiches. Or just avocados and mayo on toast. I’m not fussed. 2. Pushing Daisies or Doctor Who or Gilmore Girls or… 3. I can’t pick. These are going so well. 4. Orange. 5. BedKitchenBedKitchenBedKitchenBedKitchenBedKitchen and so on and so forth.
Talk to most:
1. I only just started making an effort with my facebook account, so nobody. 2. I text most of my contacts the same amount for each. Which is minimal. 3. Probably my sister, but it’s mainly leaving her stupid messages so I don’t know if that counts considering it’s one-sided. 4. I don’t use IM 5. Or Skype
Prosecutors in Chicago are presenting opening arguments on Monday in the trial of Tahawwur Rana, a Canadian citizen accused of helping plan the 2008 Mumbai Massacre.
The 10 gunmen who participated in the horrific attack had been directed to seek out Westerners to shoot.
Their bullets grazed Helen Connolly of Markham, Ont., a yoga teacher who survived by hiding under a table. Two of her American travelling companions – Alan Scherr and his 13-year-old daughter, Naomi – were slain right beside her.
In an interview with The Globe and Mail on the eve of the Rana trial, Ms. Connolly vividly recalls the shootings at the Oberoi Hotel.
I went on a meditation retreat. I was about to turn 50. It was a gift from my husband, to celebrate life.
The Oberoi Hotel was like an oasis in the city: Afternoon tea in the lounge, pinstriped butlers, sari-clad female staff, polished granite, polished brass. On every floor they had aromatic oil, with a candle burning underneath. Mumbai was as chaotic as the Oberoi was peaceful.
Alan and Naomi Scherr were my closest companions. I knew her from when she was about seven.
We walked back from the meditation hall that night. It was very warm. We ordered ginger-lime drinks. Naomi ordered sushi. That’s why we went – Naomi said she loved sushi.
We heard a loud crash. It sounded to me like somebody dropped a silver platter of crystal or maybe a chandelier fell down.
Alan turned his head to look over my shoulder. He just yelled for all of us to get under the table. As we dived under, Alan took hold of my hand with one hand, and Naomi’s with the other.
I went into a yoga pose, child’s pose – buttocks on your heels, your head down and your arms beside your body, palms up. It’s a very compact pose. The stiller I was, the more I would appear dead. If I moved, there was a greater chance I’d be shot.
I never saw the terrorist. He had made his way around the restaurant. We heard him shoot up all the other tables before he got to ours.
I could sense he was basically standing in front of my head. I got the image of a teenager, a young man trying to earn a perfect score at a video game.
I heard each person as they were shot. Except Alan – Alan never made a sound.
Alan was instant because they shot him through the back of the head.
I got grazed by a bullet in my thigh.
Afterward, when there was a pause. One of the hotel staff called out that, if anybody could move, to come this way.
I lifted my head. I saw that Alan and Naomi were still. I shook Naomi’s arm. She was lifeless; it just flopped. She was partly covered by other people.
How come them and not me? Why didn’t I go instead of Naomi?
Then the shooting started up again. Then the hotel staff, who had broken down a fire door, came in and got [the survivors].
I got into a taxi with the hotel staff and we all went to Bombay hospital. Everyone was taken into a triage room. We had no idea what was going on. I could see they were bringing more and more people in. …
The Oberoi hotel staff stayed with us overnight. A bunch of reception staff came and checked on everybody and prayed for us. They were wonderful.
Initially I had a little PTSD [post-traumatic stress disorder]. If a door slammed, I would jump. I used to want to sit with my back to a wall.
People act from the level of awareness they are experiencing in the moment. I have my level of awareness. If I was to revert to their level because of what they did to me, that would be a very backwards step.
People choose their thoughts based on their enculturation. If I had their enculturation, what would my thoughts be?
I’m so glad that this is one of the topics because I’ve been wanting to have this rant for an age, and I couldn’t think of how to bring it up.
I’m not for it and I think the majority of people asked aren’t either. I do, however, hate the way people throw around ‘Once a cheat, always a cheat’. Complete and utter rubbish.
"If he/she cheats to be with you, they’ll cheat on you" is almost frustratingly stupid. In other words, let’s ignore how:
They clearly wanted to be with the person they cheated with. Whilst initiating anything like that isn’t exactly a good indication of potential future problems, you’re assuming that cheater = person fuelled by solely their genitals/attractions they can’t wait to rationalise. I highly doubt all of those who have cheated to be with someone didn’t jump in without thought. Because “be with you” implies a new relationship, not a one night stand. There must be some level of assessment there.
People have the ability to change and evaluate their choices and move on from them and who they used to be if they so wish.
I’m not saying it’s always justified or that I condone it; breaking up with a person before moving on would save a lot of sadness, and I’m really not one for people being upset. But to think you can instantly judge every instance says that an action defines a person completely. It’s ridiculous. Relationships and emotions are extremely personal anyway; it’d be stupid to think one opinion is a valid law that can be applied to every individual who has ever cheated.
I’m in London, so my 6 o’clock is long gone. Does anybody have any idea what part of the world’s 6 o’clock was being referred to? I have a feeling it’s going to be the equivalent of my sleep time, and I really don’t want to stay up late just to laugh about surviving.