the perks of being a wallflower

I have just finished reading this. It’s a heart-clenching, coming-of-age novel that I recommend to anyone and everyone. Turns out the film is coming out in October, so definitely give it a read before Hollywood completely destroys it in its entirety. There’s a pretty lengthy, but impressionable poem from the book that shouldn’t be missed amongst the other famous quotes… But before you read it! I am not in any way suicidal nor can I “relate to this poem", it’s just a nice poem, alright?!

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it “Chops”
because that was the name of his dog
And that’s what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year that Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
valentine signed with a row of X’s
and he had to ask his father what the X’s meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it “Autumn”
because that was the name of the season
And that’s what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it “Innocence: A Question”
because that was the question about his girl
And that’s what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle’s Creed went
And he caught his sister making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That’s why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it “Absolutely Nothing”
Because that’s what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn’t think
he could reach the kitchen.



- Stephen Chbosky

hunting for a home.

La belle France is fast approaching (24 days to be precise), and I have yet to find someone to put up with me for seven months. I’ve tried appartager.fr but due to the fact that I refuse to pay an obscene amount to become a member privilégié purely to send an email, I’ve had no luck. However, although I may not be privilégié, other keen Frenchies are, which means they are lucky enough to actually contact a member when they like what they see (ahem, housing wise…) Such members are 99% made up of forty year old men requesting me to live in a tiny two bed apartment in the mountains. Sorry Jean-Claude, but my momma taught me not to talk to strange men, let alone live with them.

So, moving onto plan B… I shall pack up my life in twenty-four days, travel down to Grenoble and become homeless until someone pities me enough to take me home with them. (Reminiscent of Sharikov in Heart Of A Dog - one for the Russians, who will know that this is NOT a wanted comparison!)

And if that fails, plan C: invite mum to come to Grenoble with me for 5 days, stay in a luxurious hotel because “we need a break", and force her to do the house searching for me. I like plan C best, so hotel has been booked, and trains are to follow - stopping off in Paris on the way. Who would have thought that even after two years of independent university life, I would need mummy’s hand when something new and strange comes along?

HIDEOUT 2012 - raved so hard, we lost a toenail.

Hideout Festival may have been over a month ago, but summer let me forget to write an all important post dedicated to the most amazing week. 4 of us set off around Europe, leading to only one place - Zrce Beach, Isle of Pag, Croatia. Starting our voyage in Venice, Chelsea and I ambled around the small, cobbled streets of the romantic Italian city. Having visited twice now, I am yet to understand the hype that surrounds the place. The canals, bridges and buildings are beautiful, of course, but I couldn’t help but despise the huge amount of tourists, and how every shop and restaurant has given in to them. What else can you expect, I suppose. Heading up to the gorgeous coastal town of Trieste in Northern Italy, we spent a night in a youth hostel, preparing ourselves for the 5 sleepless nights on the campsite. After a coach and catamaran ride, we were on the Isle of Pag.

   

The atmosphere of the whole week was indescribable. The previous doubts we had about people ripping our tent, kidnapping us or stealing our things, were soon forgotten. Instead, everyone was buzzing and bloody crazy. The set up of the venues on the beach was amazing, with stages, balconies, pools, podiums - we were living the dream. Even spending £25 on the Shy FX boat party was so worth it. No matter how tired, ill and hungover we were it was insane. Jack Beats & Chibuku supported the main man and we partied hard in the middle of the Adriatic. Pool parties during the day, picking up again by 10pm that night - the whole week was full on bass, couldn’t get enough. Personal favourite: SBTRKT. I went to a gig of his in Nottingham way back in February, but it was nothing on his performance at Hideout. Mixing in his own records with complementing drum & bass/dubstep, it was the best hour and a half of the festival. With his usual crazy tribal mask covering his face, the venue ‘Kalypso’ was the perfect backdrop. Think palm trees, thatched bars, wooden ascending podiums and stone paving… SBTRKT and his Crash Bandicoot mask looked like something out of a jungle.

    

Other highlights: Andy C - that man can mix, and knows exactly what the crowd wants. Chase & Status - as good as always. Redlight pool party (+ MC Asbo) - the MC was hilarious, and Redlight took it to a whole other level. Doorly, Sub Focus, Annie Mac… and the rest of the weekend is a blur.

I would encourage absolutely anyone who’s into drum & bass/dubstep/house to pay the mere £100 ticket price and hike your way on over to the island - it was oh so worth it. Just one thing though… Do not camp.It was horrific. 4 people squashed in a tent in 36-40 degrees just isn’t fun. Instead, we could come back to the campsite at 6/7am and resort to sleeping under the only shaded part of the campsite, along with 50 other sleep-deprived campers. I awoke one morning to the welcoming sight of a thick, long trail of huge ants, and a boy taking a photo of us claiming we “look like we’re in a refugee camp" - cheers Hideout. But if you can endure the heat and the locals who pitched up their own dodgy bar on the site, function on 2 hours sleep a night, and still appreciate the gorge beach on your ‘tentstep’ then camping won’t be a problem.. Just watch out for the scorpion.

Until next time, Hideout Festival 2012 was sick.

Finally got round to watching “My Week With Marilyn". Before watching it, I only knew her as a sex symbol with a pretty face. Really, there seems to have been so much more to her that deserves recognition. Compared to other pictures where she seems posed, at times forced, but still drop dead sexy, here she looks young, beautiful and carefree. I love her jumper too - I bet she didn’t think she would be setting trends in 2012. A new crush has been revealed..

the biggest after party in the world; but was it enough?

The London 2012 Olympics was an event that no one could possibly avoid. Whether you were faced with it on your routine journey through the capital, or simply every time you switched on the tele, the nation was gripped. Having not been able/too lazy to find a job this summer, I had no qualms watching the various events of the Olympics all day every day. This is the first of the 6 Olympic games of my lifetime that I have given my full interest, even to sports that I never previously knew/cared about, like handball. Seriously, what crazy person woke up one day and said “you know what, football is for girls, let’s throw the ball, violently and full pelt at each other instead." brilliant.

Watching on with anticipation and pride for this diverse, brilliant and (at times) crazy country, the medals came rolling in. As reported, women have been able to reel in more medals than at the previous games. Providing 12 out of our 29 golds, I think it’s safe to say, contrary to the myth, that men do not dominate or are in any way better at sports than women. (feeling a little pride and a want to shout girl power - better kept to myself…)

The opening ceremony and 16 days of sporting events were organised and executed brilliantly. The colours, the atmosphere, the athletes - it all made London that little less dreary and routinely. BUT (there’s always a but), the ‘after party’ gave me mixed opinions…

As much as the closing ceremony did showcase our musical talent through the decades, and brought out our recently found patriotic unity, if you really think about it we were just showing 4 billion people how becoming a rockstar/supermodel/all of the above in Britain, ends up with drugs and sibling rivalry. Of course, the likes of Ed Sheeran and Jessie J may be the exception, but take Liam Gallagher as my first example. 3 years ago he was the vocalist for one of the biggest rock/indie bands of our time, now where is he? Founder of ‘Beady Eye’ (yeah, who?!) and in some tight, fierce war with his brother over a supposedly made up spout of man flu. What’s more, by the sound of his nasally voice at the closing ceremony he’s been sniffing one too many lines of cocaine. Secondly, I love Russell Brand as much as the next person, but his previous sex and alcohol addictions are public knowledge. So why was this man placed in front of the world, after all that he is known and stands for, to act as a role model? I think he is a great comedian and I get his style, but to put the likes of him, and anorexic, violent (Naomi Campbell), drug abusing (Kate Moss) supermodels, next to inspiring young athletes, is wrong.

I love comedy and I love fashion, and each professional must have worked hard to get their break in the competitive industries, but after the show that some athletes put on, and after knowing how much training and dedication goes into their sport, it’s admirable and deserving of success and appreciation. We are constantly reminded by the government and media that we are from a generation of a “troubled youth", so let the likes of Jessica Ennis and Mo Farah be our role models. Tell us how hard work truly pays off to the sound of a gold medal around your neck, not that becoming a rockstar equals more expensive drugs.

Nevertheless, the London 2012 Olympics were bloody fantastic, with London hosting the biggest after party I’ve ever seen. I’m looking forward to how Rio are gonna top them.. but watch out, I’m sure my cynical self will find some faults.