Toes in the Sand

15th August - 21:57 Depending on how dodgy the connection is over the next two weeks decides when these blogs will be posted. I’m sitting in a noisy, but large “conservatory” café. There are 40 or 50 people around, but it’s not crowded. People I’m paying special attention to are the guy with the bad haircut playing table tennis. His hair keeps flicking in his eyes and he has to do a very feminine hair flick to get it out his eyes. He’s loosing pretty badly because of it. A boy of about 14 is sitting in a red hoodie that says “Lifeguard: Babe watch division” on the back. I think I should get one. There is nothing like subtle provocation. I can see it now: “oh is that your boyfriend’s hoodie?” “No this is how I met my girlfriend.” It would be a lie well worth telling. There are children running topless and barefoot. One child just tried to drink from a can and it squirted out her nose. I know it’s mean to laugh, but I laughed. Out loud. I’m sitting alone, and I laughed out loud, so when I got angry looks from the parents I couldn’t even pass it off as someone else’s joke. There is a 20-something girl with an abomination of a bleach blonde hair cut. There’s a girl sitting a few tables away from me, facing me. At least I think it’s a girl, it may be an emo boy. There are also a lot of tired looking mum-types and slightly tipsy dad-types.

Last night I shared a room. Due to my slightly off sleeping pattern (sleep around 2, up around 9, nap between 2 and 4) I’m not very good at sharing a room. I tried my best, I listened to my iPod until she fell asleep, then got up and tidied up, packed my things together, got the next days clothes out, read by the light of my iPod, listened to music until 1-ish. It was all fine until I started singing along to my music. And playing air guitar. She woke up and looked at me standing on my bed, an imaginary guitar in hand and making up the words to songs (I can’t remember lyrics as words, more sounds, so I sound like my mouths been numbed when I try to sing. She got back to sleep, I slept for around 4 and half hours which was ok. We finally made it to St. Ives and got everything into the mobile home we’ve rented (I will call it a caravan).

I have the best deal out of everyone. I have a twin room to myself, so I’ve folded up the bed and am using it as a shelf. This also means more floor space, but I’ll be honest, the caravan smells a little funky, so I’ll probably be spending a lot of time in this café. Of course you may realise that the caravan being a little smelly is merely a metaphor for my family driving me up the wall in large doses. We did go on the beach this evening, even got in the water for a bit. It was a decent temperature.

Must remember to get work done… wouldn’t do to turn up in September and be like, “so… About that essay/coursework/homework/holiday reading, yeah, I didn’t do it. But I did go surfing a lot, so that got to be character building, right?”

Old People

We are currently visiting relatives (we're not the kind of family who can take more than 3 hours in a car together at a time, so we plan our journey with nice gaps for food). This gap involved me eating runner beans. That's not something I do.

So we're staying with aforementioned relatives, who I have been asked not to tell about Sara and I because it is believed they couldn't take it. For the last year I've seen them once. Today. I think I'll live, but it does always bring that awkward conversation up:

"So dear, how have you been?"
"Good, busy, lots of school work."
"Ohh... And do you have a boyfriend?"
"Err, no I don't... Funny that..."
"What a lovely smart girl like you? Oh well, maybe they don't like your hair."

Was that strictly necessary? What if I had been some single girl, maybe recently dumped, sore about being alone and they decided to insult my appearance? Old people are tactless. My youngest sibling recently had her ears pierced and showed it to her nan.
The response?
"Ohh... dear..."

Why would you do that? If there are any old people (or people with an old persons perspective), tell me that. WHY?

Holiday

We're about to leave for Cornwall. We're going surfing. I'm really looking forward to it, but I may or may not have Internet. I'm screwed if i don't though. Have a good two weeks without me x

Coming Out

Everyone I know (bar far away relatives) knows that I'm bisexual and that I'm going out with Sara. Everyone except my youngest sibling.

My other sibling (also younger) reacted like this:
"Could you turn the tv off a sec?"
*turns off tv*
"What?"
"I'm seeing someone. A girl someone."
"Ok."
*turns tv back on*

However, my youngest sibling was sitting on my bed.
"Sara's a lesbian."
"REALLY? ...are you?"
"erm... no..."
"oh" *look of disappointment*
"I am bisexual."
"cool."
"...and Sara's my girlfriend."
"awesome."
*grabs one of my (many) cushions*
"squishies gay"
*grabs another similar cushion*
"So's this one... they're married"

Of all the reactions I've had, this one is my favourite.

Hangover

Last night I did a stupid thing. I wrote 3,000 words on an essay with a 4,000 word limit. This is bad because I only have half the body of the essay. I still have the other book to write about, my introduction, my conclusion, my abstract, footnotes, end notes, general notes and God knows what else.

Now how did I manage to write 3,000 words in a space with less than 31 hours with 11 hours sleep?

Caffeine. I drank well over a liter and a half of coke and so even though I finished the essay at 3, I was up until 5.30. I cleaned my room. Then messed it up so I could clean it again, I read a newspaper, I did some sudukos, played noughts and crosses against myself, didn't always win... That's quite impressive.

Trouble is, the caffeine is killing me. I've got a hangover from it: I feel dizzy, sick, dehydrated, disorientated, my head is throbbing... I generally feel like I've been run over with a train. See I very rarely drink and this is the main reason. That and the control freak thing.

Well you know, power on (but slowly so I don't throw up), there's plenty more homework to do, best get typing.

Sport and Essays

Turns out, writing an essay on a book you haven't read... Not that easy. I'm almost halfway and I'll stay up until I'm done, unless I fall asleep. I've also given myself repetitive motion strain in my shoulders from sitting at my computer so much. It hurts, and my mother now thinks I should do more excercise, because I have bags of spare time obviously! She suggested I get up early and go before school. At the moment I get 4-6 hours sleep, getting up an hour early might just kill me. All I actually need is a proper chair.

Tupsy Turvy

I've decided to read the second book that I'm writing a 4,000 word essay on later and write the essay now. I've managed 500 words in the last hour (and a 3 page essay plan), so I might not fail just yet. At least not because of this. There are plenty of other reasons I might fail.

In Other News

Yesterday Sara napped on me. I stayed awake. She napped for a full 10 minutes. I'm really very proud.

When you say you will call at 1.30, call at 1.30, do not call at 4.30 and say it's been manic. Manic is not an excuse for me not getting a proper lunch.

I am getting closer and closer to failing my course. How fun.

A Naked World Would Be A Better World

Clothes are just bloody inconvenient. I mean not only will people always judge you depending on what you wear, they're expensive, and you have to new ones whenever you grow or wear them out. Not exactly cost efficient. People might feel a bit more confident if they got to look at everyone else's lumps and bumps every day. You wouldn't be able to flash people accidentally if you were already naked, and clearly nudity aids conversation. But the main reason that clothes are ridiculous is that they just get in the way when you're trying to have... fun. You know what I mean.

I honestly think if we all walked around starkers, we'd all be a lot more horny and a lot more accepting of each other. More to the point, people would be so busy fucking, they wouldn't have time to start wars. However, it just so happens that today, someones clothes got very much in my way. And if I'm honest, theirs too.

As the kisses got deeper and faster and lust took over, my hands ran over your shoulders. I was desperate for skin contact and my mouth found your neck. Lips are greedy, stealing half kisses from your smooth, delicate skin. Your breathing speeds up, turns to panting. The faster you pant the more force my lips have on your soft neck, your defined collar bone and the beautiful curve of your breast. Your breathing is almost moaning now, my hands are cupping your breasts and massaging them. Your breathy moans are in time to my kisses and the movement of my hands. My nose pushes your collar out the way, I want my mouth on your nipples, your top doesn't stretch and I'm restricted to your bra. You're groaning so fast you're hardly breathing. Small, shallow gasps escape your lips. My hand slips under your top and gently brushes against your nipple. Your pale skin is on fire, you can't keep up with your own breath, your back arching, exposing your neck. My tongue brushes playfully on your skin, you grind against my leg, I grind back. My other hand plays with your hair. Your fingers dig into my skin hard, nails dragging lines into my shirt. I kiss you until the room is spinning.

You carry on panting for at least a minute after. Imagine what we could have done without the restriction of clothes.

Stripping

I flashed the bar manager. He works nights, really lovely guy, but I don't know him all that well, ergo conversation was a little limited, so I figured I'd flash him.

It wasn't quite like that, but if you remember this it was very similar. I go to get changed, we're chatting, and I take off my strappy top, he stops mid-sentence. Coughs. Turns around and carries on talking. As I start saying something, out of politeness, I turn to look at him. Turns out he did the same thing. He froze, the blood drained from his face and he whipped back around. I carried on talking. After I'd fully dressed myself, we kept chatting, conversation now flowing easily. I would say I'm surprised, but really, I've come to expect it these days. Once you strip, the conversation is always easier.