Wednesday @ MindSay

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Wednesdays are just shit - it seems that nothing is ever going to change that. They always have been shit and as far as things have been going for the past 305 blogs, they always will be shit.
 
Tutorial was a pointless chore - just a rant presented in the form of a Powerpoint presentation from this gadge who is in charge of financial shite at Teesside Uni - but I did learn one thing - that scholarship Sarah mentioned; there's no hope in hell of me getting it. The tariff is 400 UCAS points - and there's no way I can get 400 from only three A2s. Fail.
 
Media Studies was an even more pointless chore - AM set us off doing some pointless "rebranding Teesside" work - and I utterly refused to work with nose-up-her-arse-Hannah - coz she's a fucking slag. Thus I was working alone, AM said I could work with Lewis - but Lewis has disappeared off the face of the planet this week. He better be back next week. :(
 
So up until now, the day was just a pointless load of faff - but when Photography came around - I got hyper off my tits - for no apparent reason. Hyper to the point where I thought it was hilarious to kick Shelly's pinhole camera across the car park. IT PROPER ROLLED. No seriously though, it WAS funny - just Shelly was in a pissy mood, so she decided to shout at me. So I proper bounded off back into college and she couldn't catch up with me because I had a massive lead and was walking faster.
 
Sometimes Shelly does this thing where she mentions something that REALLY doesn't need to be brought up - and she MUST do it just for the sheer sake of causing shit. Today she decided to turn around and say:
 
"I found a blonde hair in my bed this morning. It could have been yours, or it could have been Charlie's... OR IT COULD HAVE BEEN MARIA'S!"
 
And I'm like: "WHAT. YOU HAD YOUR EX ROUND."
 
She goes: "Yeah, I said I had A FRIEND round yesterday."
 
Thus, this destroyed my hyper mood. And when I drop from a hyper mood to a sad one - I LAPSE TO FUCK. So it's fucking obvious why I got so upset and refused to let Shelly touch me.
Then once again, she ignores my statement of DON'T TOUCH ME and tries to fucking hug me every three seconds. I mean seriously, can she not fucking listen?
 
Then when she tried to be violent back with me, I slapped her - so she wandered off to the table and sat and cried to herself - while I stood behind her with my half-empty water bottle, ready to BLUDGEON HER if she said the wrong thing.
 
When I had to go to film studies - Shelly stood in my way.
Now for one, it's a fucking stupid idea to stand in my way anywhere - but to stand in my way INFRONT OF A FLIGHT OF STAIRS? I hadn't realised how fucking stupid Shelly was.
 
I had to fucking fight my way past her - and after a run-in with some teachers at the door:
"FUCK OFF."
"Langage!"
"I'm sorry, but: SHE'S PISSING ME OFF - SHE WON'T MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, I HAVE A LESSON AND SHE'S GETTING ON MY NERVES."
 
After I finally fought past her - film studies was yet another wasted effort.
AM told everyone to "think of ideas for their film sequences" - and there's me, having already wrote my whole script THREE WEEKS AGO.
 
I sat right at the back of the room and because I had no other means to hurt myself, I repeatedly hit my knuckles with one of my beasty silver pens until they were red and sore.
 
AM did have a look over my script - she says there's nothing wrong with it, there's nothing I really have to change. She seems more excited about it than I am.
And bloody Ash seems more excited about Spieluhr than I am - it's so frigging weird.

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I seriously fucking scared myself today.
I was reunited with that blackened, blankened emptiness in my head - the very same one I had when I spat on Ash from the top of the wonky stairs, when I punched her in the face by construction and the several major arguments with Shelly where I came close to strangling her.
 
I don't even remember what the build up to it was - I can only remember the during and the afterwards.
I remember getting more and more frustrated with her, knowing she was being a fucking stupid cunt as usual - being so damned selfish, self-centred, self-important, spiteful and generally immature - to the point where I ended up leaning over her, pinning her to my bed by her shoulders - actually not using a massive amount of strength, but she wasn't able to fight me off.
 
I wasn't violent - I didn't hit her - but I spoke with that incredibly sarcastic, patronising, calm-yet-very-violent tone - making no effort to swallow excess saliva - so when I said my harsh consonants, she got my wet rage on her cheeks. And I said a lot of harsh consonants.
 
I wanted her to be scared, and I knew when Shelly gets  that scared, she has accidents. I wanted her to piss herself - I wanted her to be humiliated, ashamed - I wanted her to have no control over herself.
I spoke to her like this for about 10 minutes, then went to sit at my computer for a while. What I did, I don't remember - but she didn't move - she stayed on my bed, laid in the same position.
 
I went back over to her afterwards and returned to what I was doing previously - but harsher.
At one point, I saw her flush red and she started crying hard - as opposed to the watery eyes she'd had for the rest of the time. I had a feeling I may have accomplished what I set out to do - but I made her admit to it to humiliate her further.
 
There's another gap in my recollection - but after this, I went to lay in my special space - between my bed and drawers. I took a pillow and laid on the floor, my head by the boiler and my feet by the desk. I cried a little bit, because I felt guilty. Then I cried a lot, because I was depressed and ashamed.
I couldn't apologise for a very long time - nor could I bring myself to look at Shelly. She made me eventually and I gave a sort-of apology. I don't think it was good enough, but she assured me that it was.
 
She made me tell her some events from "5 to 15" that I don't like talking about. She insists that they have some answers to why I feel the way I do now.
 
Well I'm willing to bet they do - but not as significant as she makes out. She fucking assumes wrong all the time. How dare she fucking assume and then go ahead to state that I ENJOY feeling depressed all the time. No, I'm not fucking content in my own depression. If that was the fucking case, I wouldn't have agreed to more sessions with Dianne. I wouldn't fight with myself every fucking night to stop myself cutting.
She is the fucking stupidest cunt I know. Who the fuck would say I enjoy being depressed? You can CLEARLY fucking see that I don't! Anybody could fucking tell you that!!

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I can stop fretting about starting UCAS application late now. I took advantage of the time in tutorial, had a mooch about on the university website, then started filling out my application forms.
Naturally, I can't fill all of it in yet, for I'm lacking all the codes and signitures - but I did all that I could do. I even made a FIRM POINT of writing DIXIE in my preffered name box. Hmmm, I'm not going through any more years of education with my tutors calling me a name I despise.

Sarah let us go early, so in this 1-hour gap - I went into the LRC - went up to the 3rd floor and started writing more of my scripts. I was mainly finishing off the Abigail film sequence script. I managed to get it all written, divided up and colour-coded - then Lewis came and found me.
We were proper late for Media Studies, so we ended up sat right at the back so we couldn't even see the frigging whiteboard. We had to watch that shitty Location, Location, Location clip where Middlesbrough was voted Britain's #1 worst town - then pick out the representational codes. It was tedious, but not exactly difficult.

Photography was a bit of a wasted effort. We practically came in for nothing because Paul wasn't even in. So I spent the lesson writing out more scripts - currently, I'm that obsessed with RCP and all my ideas, I can't keep them off my mind for longer than 20 minutes. It's horrible. More so because I'm going to have to wait at least a fortnight before we get to film anything.

I was annoyed in Film Studies.
Was mint though - Anne Marie set us off, she told us to come up with our own idea for a film, then we had to make a poster about it, noting narrative, characters, iconography and the rest. Naturally, this was just an excuse to ponder more into the film sequence I had planned - so my poster was all about Abigail.
I even decorated it with some little "items of iconography" - razors, knives, gravestones, broken glass, walking cane, wheelchair, blood, matches and candles. Then I drew little portraits of Abigail and Jonathan. They were so fucking epic - I wanted to keep my poster, but they were going on the wall... :(

Conway asked to see it, once she'd caught a glimpse. I wasn't arsed about showing her, but I didn't want to read out my ideas to everyone, so Anne Marie did it for me. Mwah.

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I was meant to go to Teesside University today for the open day.
I didn't go.
I was too nervous.
It sounds pathetic, I know.
I spent a lot of the day beating myself up over it.
I went into town with Lewis and Shelly.
We looked in all the charity shops for music boxes for the Spieluhr video.
We couldn't find any.
But I did get this retro bowl to use as a shaving bowl for our film sequence.
I ate a Greedy Joe's sandwich.
Then bought a shitload of crisps and a Snack bar when I went back to college.
We did more work with the pinhole cameras.
But I proper couldn't be arsed.
Shelly and I were at each others' throats a lot.
We punched each other and she pulled my hair, so I kicked her in the legs.
I was sad.
Today wasn't a good day for Dixie.

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In Photography today we got to go into the newly-finished darkroom.
It's actually 3 rooms that are all connected by these weird but mint rotating doors. From the front, they look like torture chambers or experimental pods. You step inside them and rotate the plastic door around until the gap to the next room is in view. :)
Shelly and Michelle hated them, but I thought they were epic.

The first room is light, it actually has white light, so you can see everything. The middle room is lit with a red light - which is cool, and the last room is about the size of a cupboard and it's pitch black. Seriously, you'd have the same amount of vision if you kept your eyes closed.
Shelly and Michelle are scared of the dark, so I took great pleasure in jumping out at them when they were coming in and out of the rotating doors.

For the lesson we were given some pinhole cameras, which we had to load with the photographic paper in the darkroom, then go outside and use them to take photos.
They're a bit strange. My first photo was overexposed, my second was a bit blurred - but my third one was epic. You come out with a negative and they're only in black and white - but they're still pretty cool.

I was telling Anne Marie about it in Film Studies. I told her I had a headache because of all the going in and out of the darkroom and going from dark to bright so many times. She seemed interested - and I showed her my negatives at the end of the lesson. I think I'm starting to like her a bit more. With new people and strangers, it does take me a while - but sometimes I'll end up getting there with them. :P

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When I got home, I had 5 parcels waiting for me - 4 jiffy bags and a beasty cardboard box.
The box naturally, was my GH: Rocks The 80s and my sexy new cherry SG controller.
The jiffy bags contained Guitar Hero, Guitar Hero II, Evil Dead and Silent Hill 2.

I was surprised by the SH2 - they've sold me a limited edition one for £8.
Normally the double-disc games go for £25-£40. Epic. :D

I went with mam and dad to Whitby and we had fish and chips.
Well, they did - I had chicken nuggets and chips. They were well nice. We ate them sat in the car in a random car park by the docks.
It was strange, I talked to them both a lot more than I normally would - and they actually seemed minorly interested. Good, yes?