Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Thursday March 25 2004- Jim, aged 38, Somerset
My eyes are still shut and I don’t know where I am. I don’t know which way my bed is facing or where the door is or what town I am. I concentrate hard trying to guess the shape and colour of room before I open my eyes but curiosity gets the better of me and I open them.
Opening my eyes doesn’t shed much light on the mystery. I am in another hotel room complete with kettle and sachets of tea, coffee, milk and sugar.
At breakfast I am torn between emotions. On the one hand I am smug, because on the one hand unlike the tourists at the table next to mine I’ll be waited on hand on foot for the next three weeks as I move from one hotel to the next. On the other hand though, they’ll spend the next few days exploring the countryside, having picnics and I’ll be working.
As always I ask for toast and coffee. The novelty of a full English breakfast soon wears off after a few days of living like this.
My first appointment is at 9.15 so I pack up my bag and drive off in the company car. Much like hotel rooms one office quickly blends into the next. The people however do not. You learn a lot about human nature in this line of work. Today I am welcomed with a cup of coffee and listened courteously but even through the polite nods and smiles I know they are not going to buy anything. I visit three offices in total and make a good sale at one of them.
I like the variety that the job offers and the relative freedom and the fact that I’m not stuck in an office with the same people day in day out but when I return home to yet another hotel room to eat yet another greasy takeaway I’m stabbed by a pain and long to be back with my wife and three year old daughter.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:28 am GMT [Link]
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Monday March 29th-A tired comuter, aged 20, Birmingham
I gain consciousness at around 7.25 as my hands begin to thaw around my coffee. I’ve been up for and hour and 15 minutes and travelling for half of that time. Stood next to me on the platform are the same businessmen and women that I see everyday. All half asleep all clutching coffee.
The train arrives in Birmingham at dead on 8.27. This is unusual as it means that we are on time. I race (I’m on flexi time and every second counts) from the station to my work and arrive at 8.50. If you are counting it has taken me two hours to get here.
I’m only here temporally which means I don’t have a desk, which means I have to beg borrow or steal a computer or place to sit, which means I never get any real work done because I’m constantly moving around the office and setting myself up in a new position. I keep my head low while I’m working. I’m always scared that someone is going to uncover a massive mistake that I have made (I don’t know what this mistake is because to the best of my knowledge I haven’t made one)
I take the minimum required lunch break (the train is late so often that I can’t afford to take much more) and then resume my game of musical chairs.
I time my exit precisely. If I leave to soon I loose flexi time if I leave to late I miss my train and loose home time. Both commoditys are invaluable to me.
On the way home my train is late and I loose 45 minutes of home time. This leaves me with under two hours before I go to bed. But the clocks went back (or forwards or whatever ) yesterday and I arrive home in the light and I don’t mind.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:29 am GMT [Link]
Monday, March 29, 2004
Friday 26th March: Louise, aged 28, Dundee, UK
The beach shut at 5.25. We arrived at 5.37.
Some-days I think we might have just given up there and gone home. But this was probably the hottest day of the year so far and we were at one of the best beaches in the world so we didn’t give up that easily. Instead we parked the car by the side of the road and walked the mile and a half through the forest to the beach.
The sun was just beginning to go down behind the sand dunes by the time we reached the sand and because the beach shut at 5.25 and it was now 6.05 we were the only people for miles around.
So what we did was walk along the sand looking for shells for ashtrays, and shells for memories and dug our feet into the sand to make foot prints and ate second rate sweets. For a while I lay on the ground and looked at the sky and listened to the waves.
On the way back to the car we were nervous that we would be in trouble for going to the beach after 5.25 so we made an escape plan and counted our steps back to the car. While we were counting we saw 4 deer. They stopped and looked at us until we got 12 steps closer and then they disappeared into the forest.
There was no trouble waiting for us when we got back to the car at 7.05 but we drove off fast just in case.
Posted by February 29th @ 01:01 pm GMT [Link]
Sunday, March 28, 2004
Tuesday March 23rd 2004-I am 38 I have 2 children Living in Bradford West Yorkshire (Boarders Away!!)
I stir thinking to myself, what is that noise am i still dreaming or is this real. Oh no I'm not dreaming i can hear a familiar cry from the other room, mummy, mummy help me. I lay there for a short time thinking he will get up to him in a minute if i pretend to be asleep, but oh no he is playing my game. I stagger out of bed bleary eyed, hair all over unable to see where I'm going, I look at the clock I can't believe it's only 4.30am!!!! I walk into my 3 year olds bedroom, there he is half asleep himself trying to find his way around his bed to put his pillow in the right place again, but somehow unable to manage this small task in the dark, mummy to the rescue.
I lay him back down in his bed and as usual he wriggles right at the edge of the bed, I cover him up and give him a kiss. Night night mummy.
I walk back to my own room and think to myself, well i have still got 3 hours sleep so i crawl back into my own bed and curl up tight hoping that i will fall asleep quickly.
Beep, beep, beep. I open one eye and press my clock which illuminates on the ceiling it's 7.20am time to start the day again. I stagger to the bathroom and get dressed so as not to disturb anyone. I look out of the window what a glorious day, the sun is shining not a cloud in the sky, a typical early spring morning, this puts a spring in my step. I head downstairs thinking what a great day I'm going to have today even if i do have to go to work. Behind can hear small footsteps following me, I turn round to find my son just behind. Hello mummy it's not dark anymore, no I say let's go downstairs quietly so as not to wake daddy.
I prepare 2 breakfasts and then take them into the conservatory my son and I sit in silence eating our cereals. The sun is streaming in through the windows, it certainly feels like a summers day. I look out onto the garden even the birds sound happy this morning they are tweeting happy to be out in the warm air for a change, somehow they sound to be in the same mood as me. Has spring finally arrived i hope so.
Oh well time to go yet another day at work!!!!
Posted by February 29th @ 01:11 pm GMT [Link]
Saturday, March 27, 2004
Tuesday/Wednesday, March 23-24, 2004: Beth (aka Morganna aka Séilidhe LOL) Arizona, USA
Another boring day…. Sounds like my daughter’s imitation of Eeyore, Christopher Robin’s long-suffering pal whose visage decorates the face of my watch. It’s mid-afternoon, time to get up. Drive to the middle school to pick up said daughter. Her twin has a track meet so will be picked up later by her dad. Back to the house for an email check while waiting for my son to call. He does, but not to say he’s ready to be picked up after tennis practice. Instead he asks me to bring his dress shirt and tie because the band concert hasn’t been cancelled after all. He calls again. “Grab an undershirt too?” Then, another call. He wants me to bring his dress shoes and black socks. We laugh, but he’s obviously disappointed that I won’t be there. Sighing, I leave a message for my boss. He never calls back.
At the concert, I realize I missed the 8th grade promotion meeting this afternoon. Dang it. And then, I’m asked if I’ve spoken to Mr. M about my other daughter. He’s concerned that the acceptance letter for the traditional honors program wasn’t replied to. What letter? I never got a letter to reply to. Dang it.
Concert ends. Time for work. Yippee-ki-aye-yay…. M.F. I hate that place. Hate my job. Hate my boss. Wish I had another option. I don’t. 25 years in that place… more than half my life. I shouldn’t hate it like I do. Long night, and when 6:00am rolls around, I’m tired and grateful.
Time to go home, rouse the kids and get them to their respective schools. Then, finally, off to bed for a couple of hours. It’s a short day at school, and so it will be a short “night” for me.
Posted by February 29th @ 11:28 am GMT [Link]
Friday, March 26, 2004
Saturday 20th March 2004 - Gordon McIntyre, 33 years old, Sweden.
The day began (if you don’t count waking up, showering, dressing, breakfasting, saying goodbye to the friends we were staying with, the taxi ride and the buying of coffee and tickets) on the X2000 train from Malmö to Stockholm. There was me, my girlfriend, an acoustic guitar, some luggage and miles of snowy Swedish countryside floating past the window.
Travelling on trains is the best travelling I think (although I've never been on a hovercraft or a tank. I have been in a submarine, but it was docked so I guess I didn’t get the full experience). But, for now, travelling on trains is the best. And Swedish trains are the best that I have been in. They are designed for people who have legs and may want a space in front of their seat to put them. They are also always on time apart from when you need them to be a few minutes late - then they are a few minutes late plus one more (so you can catch your breath).
On the way we committed a crime. Well, I didn’t commit a crime, but I was an accessory or whatever they call it. My girlfriend pretended to be someone else - her sister to be precise - to the ticket lady so that she could get a cheaper fare. The ticket lady was very thorough and asked for ID (“oops left it at home”), driver’s licence (“sorry, don’t drive”) and Swedish ID number (“ett, nio, otta, ett, nio, sjö, noll, tre, tre” - or something) before she let us off the hook and we could go back to watching the snow and reading books and chatting.
The day ended (if you don’t count the underground, the food, the hotel, the show, the beer, the tequila, the neon signs, the melodiefest and the hotel again) in Stockholm's T-
Centralen, on Platform 4.
Posted by February 29th @ 10:53 am GMT [Link]
Thursday, March 25, 2004
Tuesday 23rd March 2004, My name is Anna Alexander I live in the Pacific Northwest region of the United States (Vancouver, Washington to be exact) and I am 30 years old.
The day dawned dark and foggy at 5:40 a.m. I reached over and turned off my clock radio as Bob Edwards was talking about the war in Iraq. I wasn’t in the mood for war that early in the morning. My goal was to get out of bed and go to the gym.
The perky gym lady at the front desk likes to ask me how I am when I get there. I think she takes pride in pissing me off at 6 a.m. I try not to let it get to me so I sneezed on her and blamed it on my allergies.
After sneezing on the perky gym lady my morning was fairly low key and uneventful. The cat demanded attention and my bowl of cereal was boring. On my way to work, however, one thing stuck out and reminded me that life is not always a routine.
I have driven up Northeast Andreason hill hundreds of times. I could drive up it blindfolded and know when to stop to make my turn. Today the fog was covering most of the hill and I couldn’t see more than 25 feet in front of me. As I drove up the hill, I looked up and what I saw made me feel like I had stepped through the veil and into another world. The tips of the evergreen trees were peeking out above the fog and looked like a fortress floating above the hill. I kept expecting to see a castle through the fog and King Arthur to come out and rescue me from the morning gridlock. Right when I was beginning to question my sanity, the fog curtain parted and I drove into sunlight. The trees disappeared and the cars around me magically reappeared.
Can I do that again?
Posted by February 29th @ 08:15 am GMT [Link]
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Sunday February 29th 2004: I am 39, live in Swindon with my husband, daughter and our weird cat (thinks he's human)
The day dawns, grey and blustery. I hide my head under the covers, willing it to be dark again, for this to be a dream. But it is not to be. Slowly, I feel him moving towards me. He flexes his muscles, stretches and yawns, comes ever closer, demanding. I turn my back, pretending to be asleep. If I adjust my breathing, just so, and move my legs, just so, perhaps he will think twice and leave me alone this morning. I lie, quiet, willing him to go away. A moment passes. I hold my breath. I've done it, he thinks I'm asleep. Mentally, I punch the air. A few moments later, I feel him again, slithering closer to me, hot, morning breath on my neck. Silently I scream Leave me alone! I deepen my breathing, pretend to snore. Silence. Then a tongue licks my ear, and I give an involuntary start. Damn it now he knows I'm awake. I'll just have to give in to his early morning demands and feed the cat and it's not even my turn!
My husband, secure in the knowledge that I cannot ask him to marry him because the evil deed has already been done, smirks at me from his side of the warm, comfortable bed and asks for two sugars in his coffee. My small, quiet revenge is to make it with decaffeinated coffee and sweeteners.
Our daughter finally stirs and a small, tousled head pokes around the bedroom door. We forgo breakfast today for an early lunch in a garish theme pub. We wend our merry way home, some of us sleepy from a surfeit of roast beef, others sleepy from a surfeit of expensive, tasteless beer. We settle down on the couches to watch whatever sport is available and promptly fall asleep.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:04 am GMT [Link]
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Friday March 19th 2004. Righard, 22, works in a CD-store and currently resides in Cape Town, South Africa.
Well, just my luck. The one day that I am required to tell people I have never met about, and it turns out to be perhaps the dullest day ever spent by anyone in the world. I mean, it is common (I should hope) for any aspiring young artist-type to fantasize about the interviews they will one day give to super-interested journalists who will have plenty of informed questions about "the new direction of the last album" or "the practical implications of such an elaborate set design" or "the liberal use of grotesque imagery in, particularly, the fourth chapter of this novel" or "the anti-art principle that is written all over one's current installation". The charm behind such chimerae is, of course, the idea that people, in the abstract sense, are, for some reason, really fascinated by whatever it is that you are busying yourself with: being known by people you don't know, which, as Bourdieu would tell you, is a strong indicator of ample social capital.
Anyhow, as it happens, I don't know any of the people who will be reading this entry, so I could have made myself sound like a very interesting person by going off about the aleatoric elements in my improvised music which is facilitated by the mechanical repetition inherent in the electronics I use, and the resultant aesthetic of serendipity - finding beauty in the chance relationships between sonic elements.
However, as it happens, I spent the entire day procrastinating. Played "Snake" on my cellphone. Almost beat my last high score. Smoked cigarettes. Ate breakfast and lunch. And daydreamed.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:40 am GMT [Link]
Monday, March 22, 2004
Friday, March 19, 2004. Draig Athar, 30, Artist, Connecticut, USA
Today has felt like a vacation day all day long. I've not wanted to get anything accomplished at all, but for once I'm perfectly okay with that. Usually I get all anxious if I am not doing something useful with my time. I suppose that comes with being self-employed - you always have to be your own source of motivation. But today I could care less about my lack of motivation, I'm going to be lazy for once!
So anyway, really all I've done today is decorate a birthday cake. The hubby wanted a proper English fruitcake as his birthday cake, with marzipan and royal icing and the whole bit. So I made one for him, even though to my American little brain, fruitcake on your birthday is just nuts. Well, I had a whole bunch of marzipan leftover, so I spent a ridiculous amount of time this afternoon sculpting little marzipan animals to decorate the top of the cake. Yes, for a grown man. What can I say, he likes to go to the zoo.
Now I think I shall continue being a slug for the rest of the day! I might even make myself a cup of hot cocoa and sit down with a plate of cookies and a good book. What does it say about me that I think hot cocoa, cookies, and a book makes for a completely indulgent evening? I'm not sure, but at least it means I'm easy to please. I don't even mind what kind of cookies they are.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:05 am GMT [Link]
Sunday, March 21, 2004
Friday March 19th-Jonathan SKINNER- college student, aged 19, Cork, Ireland
We walk through the night, the wind making us sink into our scarfs, hands placed firmly in our pockets. The walk from the college to the city seemed longer than it was, the shandon bells ringing to let the faithful know to pray for their souls. We walked through the city streets, seemingly with everyone walking against us. The drunks were begging, with their feet placed in the path, not for money or for drink but for something warm. The sun was sinking, the moon was taking its place in the night sky. Two drunks stand on a street corner, poking at eachother shouting "you go home, no you go home". A couple argue the other promising not to hit the other. This was the life of a city street.
We left the bustle of the main streets, to the the alley's and sidestreets to the bar to warm up our spirits. The bodega was full of people like us, saat one or two to a table, music playing softly, chess games unfinished, brows being furrowed, chins remaining unstroked. We took our place at a table, with another that we know, sat and ordered some mulled wine, and spoke about what remained of the day. We set up the chess board, the game remained unplayed and we left and started the walk that we originally intended to do. We rejoined the main street, crossed the river passed theatres and shops and cafés full of candlelight people dressed in their finest. The stairs down to the station were slippy, she took my arm and talked excitedly about her plans. When we got to the concourse, she broke into a run and i stayed back, she hugged a man, i stood awkwardly, she kissed and i turned on my heal, walking back to the city, with the crowd, lost like everyone else in my own little world where i was the one that had just got off the train.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:09 am GMT [Link]
Saturday, March 20, 2004
Tuesday, 9 march 2004: Salvatore, aged 33, Italy
The worst part is waking up.
I open my eyes slowly, painfully, still holding on to the sheet like I'm hiding from someone. It's so warm inside. Nothing else but me in the whole world.
blink.
John and Sarah and I are in this large room withouth ceiling and everything is greener than I'd ever...Oh. Eyes still hurts. Better close it for awhile. Am I sick? Probably not. Damn.
blink.
I'm sucked in a time vacuum, as a terribly buzzing sound invades the room. It would be like an air raid, if I had such memories. I panick for a second. Maybe I'm still sleeping? I consider the thought of just letting it go away pretending it's not there at all. It's a conforting thought, so I
blink.
I blinked so hard that the roar is gone. Awareness is creeping in through a crack in my dream, John let it inside and then he got away. This is the worst part of the worst part. I cling to the blanket again, this time not to fall down. Will the pillow devour me today?
blink.
This was the longest blink ever. The blink to end all blinks. I closed my eyes for a nanosecond and I was in my old class and I didn't know anything at all but now it's morning already. I think at this pace I can blink away the whole day, can I?
blink.
Oh my god. This cannot be. Not again. Breathe. Get ready.
Getupgetdressedgetwashedtoolateforbreakfastdownthestairs-
getinthecarhonkhonkgettoworkisthebossalreadythere?
I'm late. A ghost coffee smell hangs in the air but I can't quite catch it. My head is in a jar full of alcohol and I'm on anesthethic. I do not really have to live this part of the day but I don't mind.The worst part is over.
Nobody ever tells you how to wake up.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:02 am GMT [Link]
Friday, March 19, 2004
Wednesday March 17th-Rachel,aged 26, A hopeful dreamer from Cumbria, UK
I woke up at 6am to the sight of a bright blue sky and the sound of birds singing. I sleep below a skylight which I leave open so that I can fall asleep looking at the stars. Now that the days are getting longer this also has the effect of waking me up as soon as it starts to get light.
After a quick walk with my dog it is off to work. I pass the same people each day: The three boys who kick a football to work (I think one of them is called Josh), the lollipop lady who says “hello pet” numerous children and parents walking to school and the man with the two black Labradors. Most will nod and smile if not say hello. That’s not because we see each other every day just because people seem to do that sort of thing here.
My work is repetitive. I often get told off for exergerating but I think that it is fair to say I perform the same task a million times over each day. Initially this leads to boredom but after a while I enter some sort of meditative trance. Accompanied by music I listen to on my walkman, which tells me “Its ok because someday we’ll be millionaires…it won’t matter then how other people treat you” the day passes relatively painlessly.
At home again I begin to write a story. Spend two hours struggling not to give in and go to bed. Finally I give in. Its not a great story and I know that I should really proof read it and tidy up the English but I’m pleased with it nonetheless. I go to bed and look at the stars, safe in the knowledge that for at least two hours that day that I did something with my life.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:09 am GMT [Link]
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Saturday, 22 February 2004 – Student aged 16, Canary Islands, Spain
It was the last day of holidays. For many people this can be the worst day, having to come back to the tedious routine (and maybe in different circumstances would have been the same for me), but I lived it in such a different way that I won’t probably forget this day for many years.
Carnivals are a big party on the Canary Islands, and I can’t really explain how different it was from other years, but in one way it was. The feelings I had in front of the mirror, dressing up to go out covered in glitter, kind of nervous due to my flight the next day and something inside me saying I had to enjoy every single second of that night.
And I did it. I went to bed next morning remembering the charming streets dressed up in Cuban decoration (it was the topic of the Carnivals this year), still hearing the music and the crowd, thinking how much I am going to miss the things I left there.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:36 am GMT [Link]
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Friday March 12th-Pebble 28 year old Carlukian, Scotland
a day in the life
well they are all pretty similar apart from the amazing ones.....
it's about 8.30 am and I can't quite see properly and I'm not sure how many times I've fallen back asleep since I first stirred.
she has returned to the bed with a bounce and offers her lap as a pillow that is gladly accepted before the stroking of the head induces another bout of blackness.....
She has to leave and I reluctantly drag myself from the hollow 8 hours of weight has made.
Quickly ready with no food and breakneck down so many stairs, the bus stop welcomingly has a couple of passengers destined for the 8.12. There is a silent awkwardness untill the bus comes and we are all gladly forced to face the same way. The scandinavian student reads a book and the deaf lady talks
to the bus driver again.
Blurry streets, bad parents, scruffily dressed friends brandishing their alcohol prizes, there seems to be an urgency with everyone that I do not understand even though I'm late... again.
Caught hold of a green rail and wished I hadn't - mental note to wash my hands asap.....Jumped off the bus while it's still moving and made my way into the cake shop, caramel shortcake with tea always makes the day easier to face. Sneaking in the back door hoping no one will notice my tardy
arrival.
Working day blurs and annoys, stupidity of others making my working life worse and in turn this is making me bitter but I promise I will fight it again.....
no lunch as usual too busy, too guilty..... caramel cake break will have to suffice - I'm getting too fat anyway...
finished at last and the bracing breeze strengthens my core and prompts a feeling of freedom which is nice!
bus again - never can remember much of this journey apart from my nodding donkey embarassments.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:10 am GMT [Link]
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Thursday March 11- Judith, One of the few people who have to work on a Friday afternoon while all their colleagues are at home. From Germany
My boyfriend and I decided to go to our favourite Irish pub where we haven't been far too long. A band is playing that evening, and the music is just great. As it is far too loud to have any kind of conversation I start to watch the others sitting around in the pub.
There is the couple who seem to just have had a row. Their faces resemble stones, cold and unmoving. They must have gone to the pub to escape the stillness at home.
Then there is a group of four people. They are laughing happily, enjoying themselves, just having fun. Only one of them seems to be sad. She smiles, but the smile does not reach her eyes. The others don't appear to notice there could be something wrong.
Then there are two men who appear to be old friends. They seem to have a great time, laughing loudly now and then, simply enjoying each other's company.
Finally, there is a man called "Olaf". The moment he came in I knew I wouldn't like him. He is very convinced of himself, must think he is The Greatest. He "dances" to the music, but this is just silly, as everything about him.
The smoke in the pub hurts in our eyes, so that we don't stay too long. Walking through the cold outside and breathing fresh air, I come to think about something one rarely thinks about: So many different people who do not know each other, have never met and will probably never meet again, share this one special evening. Later that night, they will all go home and think that they had a great time. But nobody will remember the others who have been there, too…
Posted by February 29th @ 07:58 am GMT [Link]
Monday, March 15, 2004
Thursday March 11- Matilda Mother - 31 year old secretary and student from Wolverhampton, UK
I only started my new job, at Aimhigher P4P, on Monday, and today was the Big Day where I was meeting all of the people I'd be working with - 30-odd VIPs. So off I started, bright and early, dressed up like a dog's dinner.
At around 8.30am, I'd just came off the M54, waiting at the junction to turn onto the Stafford Road, and WHAM! A car drove straight into the back of me. The back of my car (Rebecca) is quite damaged, but the front of the other car wasn't. More importantly, neither me or the other driver were seriously injured.
I drove off to work thinking, 'I've got a bit of a headache.' About half an hour on, I was thinking, 'My neck's a bit stiff.' One peach flavoured Danish pastry, four talks, one computer fixing, one workshop
and one posh dinner on (about five hours after the impact), my new boss, Viv Wylie, ordered me to go to hospital.
New Cross is a bugger to park outside, so I 'phoned Mum and asked her that if I came home, would she drop me off at Casualty. She did, but there was a parking space, so she came in with me. 2-3 hours later, I was released with a diagnosis of a cervical neck sprain. I've got a gorgeous new necklace - it's quite thick and my chin rests on it. :-D
It hurts like Hell, but I've got the Witchgrove people sending Reiki, energies, lighting candles and all the works, so I'm actually more pain-free than I've any right to be, and completely hyper-active. I've been reliably informed that tomorrow I'll be seriously suffering.
Still, I got to see what the inside of my neck looks like and how many people can say that? LOL
Posted by February 29th @ 11:39 am GMT [Link]
Sunday, March 14, 2004
Friday 5 March 2004, Kevin - 21 years old - Northfield, Minnesota, USA
I've been living the nocturnal life of late. Last Sunday night I stayed awake until 4:30 on Monday afternoon. 4:30! It's amazing, the self-abuse which the average college student can inflict. And it's even more amazing when it's done for the sake of academics, as it has been for me.
I've been writing a thesis. It's been my main project now for over three months, and lately as the due date has drawn closer (and now ticks down the hours?) it has consumed my life. Late nights, busy days, writing and printing writing and printing. One day turns into the next. People lose track sometimes; I can see how.
Today wasn't quite the same as all that. I knew, when I started tonight, that this would probably be the end, that I would finish my thoughts and run out of things to say, that I would be done, with this thing that's been on my mind for the better part of four months. What do I do now? I ask myself that. Not seriously, really; but what else is there to think about after something like this?
Fourth final draft, fourth round of editing. Just making sure I don't repeat myself. I often do, without catching myself, and it does take away from the story. Sometimes I wonder, and I wondered as I walked to print, if it's important to talk about the movies the way I do, to use phrases like "negotiation of identities" - does anyone really say that? I don't know. It seems silly sometimes. But I walked through the 3:00 am snow, answers in hand, and for a moment it doesn't need to make sense.
All this in three hours! What will the rest of Friday have to say?
Posted by February 29th @ 10:31 am GMT [Link]
Saturday, March 13, 2004
Tuesday 9 March - Dimitra Daisy, original tweepopper and nearly 23, Athens, Greece
The only bad thing about my otherwise nearly perfect flat is that, because it's what in Greek you'd call a half-basement (meaning it's halfway down between a ground floor and a basement) you can't really feel the weather. You can see -you can read what the sky looks like in the way the street and the wall of the house opposite look- but you can't really get a feel of it unless you open a window and sit right by it, and that's something I don't usually do.
My remaining option is to make an excuse to go out every time I miss the weather. Today it was the supermarket, and I am glad for that as soon I step out. Perfect weather is not something rare for Athens (a city who's main attraction in my books would be the colour of its skies) but I'm not from here so I have every reason to be delighted every time it happens.
Today is the perfect day to fly a kite. The wind is warm and playful and in the sky the clouds chase the sun and half-seriously threaten to rain. (Kite-flying is all the more precious and therefore more fun when you worry about the prospect of packing everything and rushing home in the rain.) Halfway between the supermarket and my house are two eucalyptus trees whose smell brings back a handful memories as I walk by. The memories crash onto each other, being thirteen gets tangled up with something I was told last weekend and a daydream I make up on the spot which is really hopeful and makes me smile. The song I have stuck in my head says "just follow your hear - it's all I ask for the time being", the wind makes me swoon and in my head I'm not walking down the street but bouncing, and for a moment everything in the world is into place.
Posted by February 29th @ 10:53 am GMT [Link]
Friday, March 12, 2004
Sunday March 7th - Martin de Selincourt, Student, 18, from Devon
The sun materialises above the skyline, and at once the scene is transformed. The nebulous, slightly dreamlike morning mist dissolves as penetrating rays of light spread over the ground. Diffuse ambience gives way to a mosaic on the ground. The palette of the sky shifts, slate-blue receding upwards as striking orange spreads upwards, the now whole sun a burning jewel in the centre.
Constantly on the periphery of consciousness, sound engulfs the mind like a tide. Individual words, shouts, whispers, constantly emerging from the hubbub of people, and vanishing, insubstantial, the moment they are focused upon. The comforting sound of a familiar voice greeting you makes you turn, and you are aware of yourself returning the greeting.
A localised sensation at first, indescribable due to its sheer uniqueness, but then the effect spreads throughout the body, relaxing and energising simultaneously. Millennia of honing the biological reaction to a myriad of unfamiliar substances is condensed into a succinct internal message- this substance is good. More is required; It tastes nice.
Perhaps the least adaptable sense, rarely important in daily life, yet the sense that can instantly create a powerful mood. The simple smell of toast, an indicator that there is a heated piece of bread in the vicinity, and already the saliva glands are rising to the challenge that is to be made of them. It smells good to be home.
Every other sense has ceased- the lights are off, no food remains to be tasted, nor smell to be smelled. But one sense is in its element. The body, inert, engulfed, yet still remains quietly alert to remain as a tie to the physical. As the last sense leads the consciousness into the fantastical world inside the mind, you dimly contemplate tomorrow's sunrise. But that is another day.
Posted by February 29th @ 07:41 am GMT [Link]
Thursday, March 11, 2004
Friday 5th March 2004 - Sonia, aged 23, fiddler/artist/general country style ramblin' troubador Maryland
The sun is not up yet, though it promises to be soon, and the muddy smell of spring yet uncertain taints the Southern air. I'm wanderin' outside in ankle-high dew-laden dead grass, thinking about what it's like to be lost at the crossroads, uncertain of where this year will take you. Today I will be workin' long hours at a hospital to earn my bread, and then, off-hours, be reading and playing and singing into the night. Maybe even read further Unfortunate Adventures of Lemony Snicket's ill-advised Baudelaire children . . .
My name is Sonia, and I'm a fiddler/artist/general country style ramblin' troubador. I live in Maryland, crossroads between the northern and southern U.S. Today is Friday, and this day I am 23.
I never thought turning an age would hit me so hard, but it makes sense now, what Oscar Wilde, wily sinful genius that he was, used to do, dressing in black each birthday, mourning another year of his youth lost. I am 23. I can't coast along sayin' I'm barely out of my teens. I am a twenty-something now, and I ought to be showing some kind of record of deeds for my years.
But I got nothin', unless it's long wild hair and a Martin guitar and a proclivity for singing the blues. I can freepaint walls masterfully, I know how to fabric-bind a book, and I can tell you the lyrics to any Dylan song you can name. But I'm still a bum, as far as actual deeds of valor and meaningfulness go. Sometimes I think we were born for another age, we troubadors, born to sing the deeds of Beowulf or Gawain or Aragorn and his ilk . . .
Other times I think that's why we're still here.
Posted by February 29th @ 07:55 am GMT [Link]
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Thursday 4th March- Efun aged 16, Nigeria
It is so ironic how I woke up that morning thinking it was going to be different from every other day but somehow it didn’t quite turn out as I had planned. It was exactly the same as every other day and it was then that I realised that it was a day different in its own right. It was all the little things that made my day what it was. The picture most people have of my country, Nigeria, is not how it really is. It’s one of those places where the poverty is evident but waking up in the morning and seeing the luxuries that are a part of my life allow me take into consideration the little things around.
As usual, I was on my way to visit my cousins’ but we weren’t making much progress due to the traffic. It was then I looked out of the window and realised that despite the fact that we were in the middle of a city people still kept livestock on the land surrounding the house. My first reaction was ‘how weird’ but when you think about it you realise that this is the way people show how they had come to accept life in a country like that. I saw a woman come out of her house to feed the chickens around her home. What struck me was the way she spread the seeds out, you could see the contentment in her face; she was happy with what she had. It was then it came to me that my parents had tried so hard to make my life as simple as it could possibly be and yet I complained about needing a new ‘this’ or a new ‘that’. Ever since, I’ve always looked past what everyone else sees as ‘that’ country and learnt to appreciate all the little things that make it so enjoyable to live in.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:00 am GMT [Link]
Tuesday, March 9, 2004
Wednesday March 3rd, 2004 –Middleaged wife, mother and friend, UK
Today I won the lottery. I did not know this as I was awakened by the sound of scratching at the kitchen door. I pretended to be asleep, hoping my husband would get up first. First to be greeted by the furry whirlwind of joy and happiness that another day was starting, that was my daughter’s dog.
Breakfast is made to the rhytmn of a complicated dance routine – the dog knows every move and is in position two steps ahead of me all the way round the kitchen, from kettle too sink to cooker, in case any food is dropped along the way. So I trip over her, stand on her, grumble at her, but she is very good- natured and wags her tail throughout.
Off to work and halfway through the first lesson I receive a message from my husband: ‘your hospital results are back – everything’s fine, everything’s fine. Come home at lunchtime and read the letter.’ ‘Everything’s fine’, I say the mantra in my head without understanding the words. I rang my friend to tell her the good news.
Later today, at home the dog started barking. Next door’s cat, I thought. It wasn’t until and hour later that I saw the carrier bag containing: a pineapple, fruit juice, a bar of chocolate, tube of Pringles and roses and bubble-bath ………’I just wanted you too know how pleased I was for you about the results’ said my friend on the phone. Have a good evening.
So you see, today I had six balls come up in the lottery. And the bonus ball? The one that gives you everything, well I had that already : my husband, my two daughters and my friend.
Posted by February 29th @ 07:45 am GMT [Link]
Monday, March 8, 2004
Wednesday March 3rd, 2004 – Daniel Reid, aged 43, Calgary Alberta, Canada.
Damn it's been cold. As soon as I get up, I turn on my PC and check the weather (-250C with the wind chill). Here in the colder climes, you can't just look out the window. It maybe a beautiful sunny day, but the minute you walk outside, tears begin to flow from the biting wind that just slapped you in the face. Then your eyelids freeze together. Kind of hard to move when you can't see.
Anyway, I decide to take the dogs for a walk. I can't just hide in my house until the thaw arrives because I will go crazy and the dogs will start chewing on the cat. I start walking at a very rapid pace to the park. I look at the dogs. The border collie, from good Scottish stock, has no problems. In fact she thrives on the cold - "better than panting in that sauna of a house," she says. However, the Australian Shepherd is another story. He is walking on three legs. He won't put a third leg down because it hurts his paws to touch the frozen ground and he rotates each numb limb until he looks like hopping guru walking over hot coals- "ouch, ouch, ouch," he says.
I stop and consider what to do next. I can't continue because it's too painful to watch my poor frozen dog. I call them back. The border runs past the hopping Aussie on the way home and I can hear her spew out of the corner of her mouth, "baby!"
I decide to shovel the sidewalk. The border stays outside with me. The Aussie is inside with his paws stretched out before the fireplace, coco in hand. Every time I toss a shovel full of snow, the wind grabs it and throws it back in my face. Lucy, the border collie, is sitting on the front step watching me with a sarcastic smile across her beautiful face. "Ouch, Scottish Karma," I think.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:07 am GMT [Link]
Sunday, March 7, 2004
Tuesday 2nd March-Meredith, aged 16, Happily modified writer from Northern NY.
Where I live, it's cold. Cold like frostbite whether you enjoy the sensation or not. Cold like pets die frequently. So cold that when it reached 50 degrees yesterday, I wore sandals.
I hate this school. We have a few thousand people, more cows, and I'm the tallest girl in the school. Oh, my mother is the most hated English teacher in the district, my father runs a controversial news program, and I have stretched earlobes and a partially shaved head.
So my scabby, un-girly, unpainted toes traipsed through the hallways. Short gangster-people push each other to get attention. I hate this place, that word, 'fuck', that I hear so much, this bitter spit-shine that gleams and dribbles off the lockers, underpaid janitors, graffiti, balding teachers both male and female.
And I lean against a locker and I pat my stomach, this is third period, this locker isn't mine, I can't bring myself to get along to class.
I might be pregnant.
No, I don't know. No, it isn't bothering me because a huge part of me knows that I'm not. But what with the anxiety disorder and all, my legs and spine have latched onto this idea, and they sink as it sinks.
I fall to my flat Scottish bottom and let myself melt into the tile. It was my.. second time? Third? Protected-- Prophylactics, people, I swear-- and it didn't break or tear, and he didn't... you know... finish. Interrupted. And I've gotten my womanlies. Normal, as usual. And it's all gravy. But I'm scared. I'm more scared than I've ever been. Can't explain why.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:13 am GMT [Link]
Saturday, March 6, 2004
Sunday February 29th- Duncan aged 31 Scotland
Got up about 9 in a B&B in Inverness. It was nice but quite cheap. I was tired. That bastard My friend Rachel had snored all night on purpose after deliberately contracting the cold. My sleep cycle was mucked up from having got up early to drive to an anti-war demonstration outside of the Labour party conference the day before after having spent a month going to bed at 5 am and getting up in the afternoon. Very slowly had a shower. We went and paid the B&B owner who was very friendly and talked to her about the demo. Then we went to the town centre for breakfast, then a book-shop while we waited for the chemist to open. Then we went and bought various flu remedies for Rachel and medicines to alleviate the symptoms of my raging Syphillis. We visited Loch Ness so that Rachel could see its munificence and how it dwarfed her puny English lakes. I think she was suitably impressed. Then we drove back South along single track roads until near Fort Augustus. I was tired and my driving wasn't as good as it could have been I blame an elaborate English plot which was masterminded by Rachel at the behest of her paymasters on the Privy Council. We drove over the Black Mountain and stopped to see views of the mountains and Rannoch Moor, which dwarfed her puny English mountains. I think she was humbled by their munificence. Then we visited the mighty Les Gosdon's self-service cafeteria in Tyndrum which dwarfed her puny English cafeterias with its culinary greatness. She seemed stunned by the divine aura of its Baked Potatoes With Cheese. We drove South past Stirling with its mighty castle which made her shack-like English castles look like mere hovels by comparison. I think she was over-awed. Got home. Tidied up. Was knackered. Talked to Rachel, Malc , Alec and Iain. Went to bed.
Posted by February 29th @ 07:08 am GMT [Link]
Friday, March 5, 2004
Sunday, 29th February 2004-Jen,aged 16, Rugby UK.
I was rudely awoken at 8.30 am today by my phone playing the darkness polyphonic style.
Breakfast consisted of half a grapefruit which i decided to buy on impulse in marks and spencers the day before, alongside some soft apricots! Managed to squirt grapefruit juice everywhere but it tasted good.
Had a shower, not very interesting, a little too cold for my liking but like i said, not interesting. Decided jeans and red jumper would suffice for clothing, and so sat down on my bed and picked up my beautiful blue guitar and played for a while.
11.15 am - Went to fetch boyfriend from school (public) with my dad and the beach boys Went to garden centre with mum and bf George just to see if they had chilli plants in stock and to pick up some dolly mixtures, ended up with marshmallows too but no chilli plant, not in season till april/may time.
1.30pm - made pancakes for postponed pancake day, only had one as i really dont like them that much and the coffee tasted better.
Evening - took george back to school after roast chicken dinner, stopped at blockbuster on way back for calendar girls and ice cream. ben and jerry's phish food!! the best!
Night time- wrote random letters and sent watermelon lollypops to people whilst watching stepmom on channel four and then i set my alarm for 7.05am and lay my weary head to rest.
Not exciting but it wont happen again for four years!!!
Posted by February 29th @ 07:16 am GMT [Link]
Thursday, March 4, 2004
Wednesday 25th February- Im Simon, Im 17 and live in Devon in England. I attend the sixth form at my local school.
It was perfectly quiet, and I was content.
Beep.
Life was so simple, so free of worries.
Beep.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Oh crap, it's morning.
I closed my eyes again and was at peace again. Then I realised falling asleep was perhaps not a good idea, because I had to get up. It's never a good idea to be late. So I got up, had a nutritious meal of Kellogg's Frosties with a sprinkling of Coco Pops and went back to bed. Realising a shower might be a good idea; I headed in the direction of the bathroom, had a shower, then packed my bag and left for school, not forgetting to put clothes on in between.
It was mightily cold this morning. Being the idiot that I am I forgot my coat, and walking the mile and a half to school I was indeed, mightily cold. Upon reaching school five minutes late I sat down to register to notice that I was the only one there. My friends as it turned out were all at University Open Days. Sat alone I awaited the arrival of my incompetent form tutor, and eagerly awaited my departure.
My first lesson of the day, Biology, was rather enjoyable. Not for the subject content, but for the fact that for the first time since last September, a practical experiment set up by me actually worked. There was much grinning. The day plodded along rather slowly after that: Geography was cancelled, Physics pretty much sucked, and the less said about Maths the better.
I made my way home, and once again I was mightily cold. I spent the evening playing agony aunt to my tortured friends, and becoming physically glued to the television, an average day by my reckoning.
Posted by February 29th @ 07:35 am GMT [Link]
Wednesday, March 3, 2004
Thursday, February 26th 2004 - Teacher, aged 50, Midlands, UK
Kids don’t normally get under my skin... After all you can not teach them for a quarter of a century if you let them get to you. However Cheryl’s class and Cheryl in particular were beginning to make me think again. Lots of nice kids but the not so silent minority were demanding that their self centred opinions and very immature attitudes had to be listened to and admired by their peers.
Yes I could get heavy with them but this was social education where it was my responsibility to let them air there ‘profound’ little thoughts without pulling rank by putting them straight on what were the hard facts of life that they would meet all too soon.
Cheryl’s background wasn’t really to be envied. Her brother had recently been expelled for pushing drugs and she did not have any reason to understand the term parental support. Nevertheless when she acted like a little cow, I found it hard to forgive her.
She came in chewing gum and it took me longer than it should to get her and her mate to actually pretend to listen. Citizenship... illegals... Discussion would be easy but controlling it and the inevitable bigotry and racist young opinions would not.
The 20 dead Chinese in the Morecambe bay tragedy were soon mentioned and initially the opinions from even some of the nicer kids were very unsympathetic. Then her hand went up... She was actually listening but what the hell was she going to say?
‘They must have been desperate to do something so dangerous for so little money... It wasn’t fair.’
The class listened... and agreed and then they continued but somehow they all seemed a bit older and a little wiser. And I even remembered why I enjoyed teaching so much.
Posted by February 29th @ 07:29 am GMT [Link]
Tuesday, March 2, 2004
Saturday, February 21st 2004 - JohaN, 25 and very Capricorn, Stellenbosch, South Africa.
Saturday. Broke. 5 more days. What to do? Answer, find somewhere to wander round for free! (That, or work...) The "Art Market" in the park. Not promising, but all I’ve got. Drag my flatmate along, but it more than lives up to our doubts. The usual crap – maybe some crafts, definitely no art – and not even a lot of it. 15 minutes and we’re out of there. There is a mildly interesting stall selling home-pickled olives – with free samples! The attendant turns out to be a particularly gnomish-looking, rosy-cheeked Swiss, who has recently immigrated with his South African wife. Make cheerful small-talk for a while: any excuse to stay and taste his wares, but he’s nice to chat to also!
The rest of the day I hang at home, drinking black coffee (the milk’s run out, and I’m REALLY BROKE!) A friend arrives, visiting the swimming-pool and stays for a cigarette, then leaves again. Carry on as before.
Later, my brother phones - I should meet him out, he’s paying. Why not, then? We chat on the club’s veranda. 3 beers later, I’m about to leave. The girl walks in. My hands start trembling, my knees too, struggling to support me. I start walking to the car three times, three steps, then turn back. I have to talk to her. Pretend to dance a while, keeping an eye out for her. Eventually: "We have to talk." Her friend tries valiantly to save her, but she has the decency to stay. She says, "I’ll phone you and we’ll have coffee." I know she won’t, but I leave anyway. At home, cigarettes and Sigur Ros, like every night. Sleep slowly finds me, grasps at my shaking hands. I’m swallowed slowly, slowly. Eventually.
Posted by February 29th @ 08:16 am GMT [Link]
Monday, March 1, 2004
Wednesday, 18th February 2004 - Gráinne Lynch, aged 21, Ireland.
I hate getting up in the morning. I wake up a little while before seven, and wish I could go back to sleep. I snuggle down in my soft, warm bed and promise myself just five more minutes, the room is too cold, and the light is too bright - I don't want to get up yet.
Eventually though, after eight or ten minutes of watching the minutes tick away, I struggle from my bed. A hot shower and a hot cup of tea are my rewards. And once I'm up, it's not so bad. Sometimes I'm even glad to be up so early. This morning was one of those mornings because the world had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Everything was white. From the upstairs window I looked out over the field that glistened with white frost and eerie fog and for a few short seconds I watched the sun as it rose behind the trees, and streaked the sky with creamy yellow and bright orange light. It was beautiful. (Unfortunately, I didn't have long to enjoy it because I had to jump in the shower to avoid being late for work!)
Then as a reward for getting out of the house, at the bottom of the driveway there were half a dozen frozen spider webs between the bars of the gate. All shiny and white - they barely looked real.
I would have missed all that if I'd slept 'til ten!
Posted by February 29th @ 11:50 am GMT [Link]
