(almost) leaving (in a bit)

I have finished work and had a leaving party and said goodbye to old friends and new ones even though I’ll still be here for a week.

We partied until dawn and it was like old times, but with ALL the people I like and not just the people I like who were there when ‘old times’ were happening. I tried to make a boy fall in love with me by making him feel the hair that grows out of my witch mole. Inexplicably this was not as effective a move as you’d imagine. A friend wore a dress that she had made with her own human hands, and by way of a gift sewed me the most beautiful document holder I have ever seen. Another friend crocheted me some majestic facial hair because she understands that it’s only right that a woman has her own set of facial hair for a night out. All night people said nice things to me, and were infinitely generous and kind, and I felt a bit guilty about it because it’s only me after all. For example, I now own a Kindle and it’s the best and most beautiful object I’ve ever owned. I had jagerbombs and danced with pointy fingers and wore a gift t-shirt that smelled of the sweat of my team mates because they’d all worn it too. Everything was good. I bought a 6am after-party apple from Tesco on the way home because of Health, and that was good too.

On Saturday, after 3% of sleep, my mum and MiniMac (my youngest little ginger brother) came to take some of my stuff back to theirs for storage, and to bring me tiny muffins and to feed me at my favourite Chinese restaurant. Then it was Friends o’clock so we all had coffee together like wot grown-ups do, and talked rubbish and were happy, and Bron got confused and thought that MiniMac was actually BigMac (eldest little ginger brother) because she couldn’t believe how much he’d grown. They’re apt to do inconvenient things like grow, apparently, are the kids. We wondered at the fact that it’s been 10 years since we all set off on our travels the first time around, after college when we were just wee nippers ourselves. 10 years. How does that happen? Life, ey! It’s just going on all the bloody time; left, right and centre; it can’t get enough.

Anyway, everyone’s gone now and it’s Sunday night and I don’t have work tomorrow so I can sleep in as late as I like, thank you very much. The house is empty as most of the furniture’s been taken down to London because it belonged to my old housemate. I’ve got some packing to do, some bills to sort, and some people to see but then that’s it. REALLY it. As in, Moving-To-Another-Country kind of ‘it’.

Think of all the sun there’s going to be! Think of all the PLACES! It’s going to be weirdbrilliantcrazygood!

(I am a little bit scared.)

1 week, 4 days!


Hunger Games. Kindles. The Next Big Thing.

NANOWRIMO you say? No. Never heard of it. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please go away.

Oh, hang on, have you read The Hunger Games yet? I sure hope so cos, as I told you before, it’s going to be the Next Big Thing.

Everyone I know is going Hunger Games crazy. By which I mean, plural people I know have now HEARD of Hunger Games. Some of those people are even reading it. Exciting times. When they’re finished maybe we can sit around and talk about how great it is. Maybe someone will say “I like that bit when blah blah blah” and someone else will say “I found it interesting when yadda yadda yadda”, and I’ll go, “MAAATT DAAAMON.”

It’s a lot to hope for I know but hey, I’m young and idealistic and I’ve yet to be ground down by this cruel patriarchal society and by not being a millionaire or a successful YAF author or a roller derby superstar.

I’ve tried author-stalking Suzanne Collins but she isn’t all about the social media which I find unfortunate. I like to imagine that she lives in a hippy commune somewhere. They grow their own food and keep their own goats for milk and cheese and they make their own clothes from natural materials. They don’t use electricity and there’s an old woman who looks after the bees and they poo into long-drops and then compost it and use it on their land. It’s a hard life, but they rely on nobody but themselves and so they’re happy. Without Facebook. Somehow.

It’s a shame that there isn’t a universal font that shows when you’re just joking about. Or when you’re sort-of joking.

Anyway, look. The Point is this: Hunger Games. Gender performance. That is all.

I’m now off to buy some Judith Butler from Amazon. It’ll look so pretty on my bookshelf.

IF I get it in book form that is. The book costs £10 but the Kindle edition is a bargain at only £3.69. I’d have to buy a Kindle as well, naturally, so perhaps at first this doesn’t seem to be the best idea, but put it together with the probable fact that I’m only ever going to read ‘On Liberty’ if I get a Kindle (BECAUSE I’M NOT PAYING FOR IT IF I CAN DOWNLOAD IT FOR FREE, NEVER MIND THAT I DON’T LIKE READING FROM THE SCREEN BUT DON’T HAVE A PRINTER TO MAKE A HARD COPY) then I’m sure you’ll agree it adds up. Kindles are £90 on Amazon right now. It’s tempting. Initially I wasn’t a fan but the more I think about it the more I like the idea. I hate carrying books around. I don’t like to be weighed down unnecessarily. OR necessarily, in fact.

The thing that would sway it would be if you could word process on them. Nothing fancy – I’d be happy with a little MS Notebook type thing. And if you could write electronic sticky notes and put them in the pages of the book you were on, then view all the notes attached to a particular book and/or compare them with other notes you’d made in other books. Using TAGS maybe. That’d be the clincher. I’d buy the SHIT out of a Kindle if it could do all that. And if it had an audio-book option, fine. If it could play all my music, brilliant.