Right, have deleted the previous post because it was boring beyond words and no one (save for Sally, who only visits my blog occasionally) commented.

Is it normal to have a huge crush on someone then BAM, switch to someone else? Because that is what has happened to me; it's slightly odd.

Snore-worthy day today, going into die Stadt to find a job, didn't manage to talk to anybody because all the shops/cafes etc had massive queues. Grrrr....*shakes fist*

Really, really want to start writing poems now. We've just done this really brilliant poem in English by Carol Ann Duffy; I'm so bloody bored that I'll type it out. Ms Reid read it to us:

Education for Leisure

Today I am going to kill something. Anything.
I have had enough of being ignored and today
I am going to play God. It is an ordinary day,
a sort of grey with boredom stirring in the streets.

I squash a fly against the window with my thumb.
We did that at school. Shakespeare. It was in
another language and now the fly is in another language.
I breathe out talent on the glass to write my name.

I am a genius. I could be anything at all, with half
the chance. But today I am going to change the world.
Something's world. The cat avoids me. The cat
knows I am a genius and has hidden itself.

I pour the goldfish down the bog. I pull the chain.
I see that it is good. The budgie is panicking.
Once a fortnight, I walk the two miles into town
for signing on. They don't appreciate my autograph.

There is nothing left to kill. I dial the radio
and tell the man he's talking to a superstar.
He cuts me off. I get our bread-knife and go out.
The pavements glitter suddenly. I touch your arm.



And that last line, it may not sound scary, but when Ms Reid read it I was quivering. It is such a creepy ending!

Poetry is dismal. So far we have done the following:

• La Bell Dame sans merci - About a man who wastes away because he wakes up to find his lover has gone.
• Ballad - The same thing, except it's a woman who is wasting away. Dismal in the extreme.
• My Last Duchess - A duke who has his wife killed for not treating him the way he wants.
• Porphyria's Lover - A man strangles his lover Porphyria with her own hair to "keep hold of the moment". Really creepy.
• Stealing - A disturbed teenager who steals snowmen.
• Havisham - The backstory of Miss Havisham from Great Expectations (a woman who goes mad when she is jilted)
• Education for Leisure

See what I mean? All of them miserable. And all the poets seem to be either depressive, or die young as well; Keats, Browning, Sylvia Plath etc.

Hmm, idea sprouting:

Along the empty streets I glide;
The town is war-torn, broken, awash with false memories.
There is the church where Bernie and me would have married
If I'd said yes.
Over crumbling bridges, damp pavements
Littered with bottles.
There is the park where Bernie would have proposed
If I'd have said yes.
The grass has gone, leaving mud in its place.
The town is silent; newspapers flutter in the breeze.
There is the restuarant where we would have first dated
If I'd have said yes.
The cold wind, bitter, stinging my cheeks.
As I stand outside a rusty, locked gate.
Here is the school where we would have first kissed
If I'd have said yes.
An empty playground, devoid of laughing children.
Litter fluttering in the wind.
Here is where Bernie first asked me out.
I didn't say yes.
Over the tarmac, behind the bike sheds.
Only rusty contraptions remain.
Here is where Bernie wouldn't have stabbed me
If I'd have said yes.

Hmm, it's not brilliant, is it? Still, not bad for a first try, hopefully. Or not. Plenty of time to improve.

Alone.
She sits alone, her face a mask.
Listening.
She listens to the rustling of the trees.
Touching.
Fingers gently stroking the green rug on which she sits.
Thinking.
Thinking of the man who once sat with her.
Tasting.
Tasting imaginary strawberries fed by the invisible hands of a lover.
Remembering.
The lady in red, who took his hand and pulled him away.
Hating.
They never came back.
Shivering.
It is cold, but still she is sitting, watch ticking.
Smiling.
He wasn't a fool. He return to her before the leaves had changed.
Waiting...

*Sceptical* I think I've been reading the Time Traveler's Wife too much.

Ciao!