Cube Fun

Here's a quick personality test type thing I want to share with you all, it's referred to as the "The Cube", and I originally got it from this website here (but there's a whole load of other versions out there). You see, not only do I spend my time on dating websites, but I'm also inclined to sit on my laptop taking multiple tests and questionnaires like the "Have You Got What It Takes To Be In The Navy?" and "Would You Make A Good Boyfriend?" (turns out, no, I wouldn't). It's fun to do with friends, or I don't know, maybe use it as a way of picking up the ladies (probably not).

So, anyway, "The Cube".

It helps if you have a piece of paper to hand, and actually draw the images or make notes, but you know, a lot of you are probably too lazy to do that. I'm just saying, it's better that way. If you're particularly imaginative or creative then you can draw a really fantastic piece of art. You should concentrate how you feel about the images as well as how they look like. This is only because peoples perceptions of an object will differ, some might not like say- the colour blue, so it's really your own interpretation of how you feel about the object.

Let's begin then. Imagine you are in a desert, think about this for a moment. What does your desert look like? Now place a cube somewhere in the desert. Whereabouts in the desert is it, in the centre? or towards the left or right? Think about what size the cube is, big or small? What colour is it? Do you like the colour? Is it transparent? Can you see anything inside?  Whereabouts is the cube in relation to  you?

Now in your desert, there is a ladder. Imagine the ladder. Is the ladder near your cube? Is it leaning against it? Or is it somewhere completely different? What colour is your ladder, and what material is it made out of? Are there many rungs on your ladder? What's the distance between your ladder and cube? 

There's a horse in your desert. Don't question the horse, just think about it. Where's the horse in relation to your cube? Is it tied up at all? Or riding around gloriously free? What colour horse? Does it have a saddle? What impression does the horse give you? Are you happy about the horse, or does it seem aggressive at all?

Things are getting a little dramatic now, there's a storm in your desert. How big is this storm? Is it near, or far off in the distance? Whereabouts is it in relation to your cube? Is the storm passing, or staying? How does the storm make you feel?

Finally, there's some flowers. How many are there? Whereabouts are the flowers? Are they near your cube? What colour are they? How do you feel about the flowers?

That's your desert scene completed. I don't agree that this is in anyway an accurate measure of your personality. It's just fun to do. Here's the meaning behind it all:


Cube: the cube is a representation of yourself. How you think about the cube reflects your opinion of yourself. You may have had a really big cube, which would suggest you have a large ego. If the cube was small in comparison to the desert, then you feel like you are just another part of the world, whereas if the cube was relatively large in comparison with the desert, then you feel important. If the cube was a colour you like, or felt had positive connotations, you like yourself. Dark colours like black or brown may suggest there is something you dislike about yourself, or that you are keeping something hidden. The cube may have been transparent, and this would suggest you let others see through you, or that you are an open person, and others can easily read your mind. If the cube was solid, or made of a sturdy material, this suggests you are down to earth, grounded and can cope under pressure. Soft or flexible materials suggest you are more of a daydreamer, or perhaps are more creative. The distance between you and your cube is how close you feel to your "inner self". 

Ladder: the ladder represents friends. If your ladder is leaning against the cube, then you are supportive of your friends, and they depend upon you. If the ladder is somehow supporting the cube, it would mean you depend on your friends. The distance between the cube and your ladder implies how close you are to your friends. Both the colour and the material of the ladder suggests how you feel about your friends. If the ladder had many rungs, then you have lots of friends, whilst only a few rungs might suggest you have only a few close friends.

Horse: So the horse represents a lover (mmm, bestiality). If the horse is close to the cube, then you are close to that person. If the horse is tied or has a saddle, it would suggest a controlling personality, and being easily jealous of others. On the other hand, if the horse is wild and free, then you are trusting in relationships, and are open. The colour of the horse reflects how you feel about your lover. The attractiveness of the horse correlates to how attractive you want partners to be. (Imagining a mule, for example, might suggest your standards are pretty low).

Storm: the storm is an obstacle in your life, it represents a bad patch, or a hardship. How close the storm is to the cube reflects how big the problem may be. If it is small and far away, for example, you feel like you can deal with the problem or like it is not affecting you. Whereas a large, close storm may suggest a need to deal with the obstacle, but not knowing how to overcome it.

Flowers: the flowers refer to offspring, or perhaps a need to nurture something (such as a talent, like art, for example). The proximity of the flowers to the cube shows how close you are to your children. If there are numerous flowers, then it shows a strong bond, or that a talent is flourishing well. If the flowers are wilted, or not growing well, then it would suggest the relationship could be strained or that you are not feeling as passionate as you once did towards your talents.

There you go then. If you're interested, here's sort of how I imagined mine:  

I don't really know why but my horse turned out to be that one from the "Amazing Horse" song.

I'd like to to know what other people came up with (comment below!). Here's a link to a video about it as well, which might explain it a bit better than me. Like I said, I doubt this is a truly insightful measure of your personality, but still. It's fun. 

Defrostable Happiness

“Somehow I have to keep and hold the rapture of being 17. Every day is so precious I feel infinitely sad at the thought of all this time melting father and farther away from me as I grow older. Now, now is the perfect time of my life.” - Sylvia Plath. 

Sylvia Plath was right. I've commented upon it a few times - but I really wouldn't mind if time were to sort of freeze my feelings right now, just so I could keep it handy, in a nice sort of packet ready to be defrosted for later use.

I'm really rather happy with my life. I like to take a moment to appreciate it all, my brilliant friends, my family and just sort of where I am as a person right now. It's absolutely fantastic being this age, there's no real sense of commitment to anything. My life, and what I choose to do with it seems incredibly exciting. It's all the possibilities, they both frighten and astound me. 

All I'm really saying is, things could be a lot worse, and they're not, so I'm grateful for that. So whilst I'm all young and carefree I'm just going to try and enjoy it. I'll read books, open my mind to new ideas, paint pictures, go to gigs, make beautiful things, get things wrong, meet new people and make sure when it comes to defrosting, I'll have a very delicious treat, one which I'll savour.

Finding my soulmate.

I was browsing my emails when I came across yet another "Congrats we've matched you up with your soulmate! Click here to find out all about them!".

So, quite a while ago I signed up for one of the well known dating websites. Now, I know what you're thinking. But hear me out. I didn't do it to meet the man of my dreams, far from it. I did it for my own entertainment. Why don't you just read a book or something?, you may ask, well...

If you're not familiar with the process, you begin with a questionnaire which would take a normal person about two years to complete. I'm pretty sure you reveal your entire genetic sequence in there somewhere. Such juicy questions as "What is the ONE thing that people DON'T notice about you right away that you WISH they WOULD?" (I particularly enjoyed their use of capitals in that one) and "How do you typically spend your leisure time?" (Well, actually I sit at home and complete questionnaires on dating websites for fun). Moving on from the questionnaire, there's a beautiful list of "Must Haves" and "Can't Stands". You can choose from such things as "Spirit of Volunteerism" and "Sexually Knowledgeable". Great! I can find someone who's a very charitable sex god, mmm.

Now, I never took this questionnaire seriously. I'm pretty sure I've come across as a 20 year old atheist porn star, who hates children, and wouldn't mind hooking up with someone who considered themselves a little "mentally unstable". I've also added I can't put up with someone who is "excessively overweight" or has "poor personal hygiene".

The steps carry on from there, you can add photos and even more about yourself. I stopped at that point 1) because you have to pay and 2) I'd be scarred for my life having viewed some profiles.

Needless to say, I was inundated with requests from potential suitors. Currently I have 235 matches. They vary in their degree of creepiness. I've yet to actually communicate with any. Which could be very entertaining. 

Alas, my quest for a soulmate continues.

Festival Shenanigans: Chapter 2

This chapter is courtesy of the wonderful @Sublime_Sophism so please enjoy, I thought it was pretty damn good myself. He definitely has a talent for this sort of thing.

He kissed me, like I’d never been kissed before. Well, I hadn’t been kissed before. As he kissed me, I felt his lips exploring mine, my own personal Columbus – trust me to relate romance to education. As he kissed me, we fell back, onto the muddy floor outside my tent. I couldn’t help but laugh, and neither could he. He was pretty when he laughed, I loved it.

 He stopped kissing me, and moved into my tent, leading me in. He pulled my top off, it was cold, as the day was coming to an end, I didn’t think I’d stay cold for long, as he moved his warm hands across my body... I couldn’t believe it was happening. He took his top off too, he wasn’t defined like all these Calvin Klein models, but, he wanted me. I felt the button on my jeans undo, and looked down to see him pull my jeans off. He threw them away, and they bounced off the tent side and fell onto my face. He laughed, freely, and I couldn’t help but laugh either. He pulled them off my face and kissed me again. I felt his warm fingers travel down my body, drawing a line from my neck, across my breasts, down my navel and onto the hem of my underwear, as he began to pull them down. I gulped, I knew what was coming. His hand pulled my underwear completely off, then his hands began to climb my leg again, it didn’t take him long to get to the top of my thigh, and slowly moved his hands across me... there.

 Before I knew it, he was naked too, kissing my neck, making it seem romantic... In reality, I was losing my virginity to someone I just met, in a tent, in a muddy field in Reading. I’d read Lady Chatterley’s Lover, and John Dunne’s poetry – that was glamorised, romanticised. It was over before it began really, in a series of gasps, but it felt... Different. Good. I liked it, a new feeling. He seemed happy too, so relaxed and care-free, and we just laid there together, as he pulled Amira’s sleeping bag over us, together, in our own little microcosm.

A glimpse into my childhood.

The problem with growing up in a comfortable, nuclear family during the nineties was that there was nothing particularly exciting going on. It’s impossible to compete with the tales your parents and grandparents tell you about “Back in my day”. The stories of how they suffered food rationing and the war, how they never complained and just got on with it. So it would seem a lot of stories this generation will be telling their grandchildren will revolve around the times the internet cut out for a night, who won X-Factor, or the time they had to trek to the 24hr Tesco in order to get some milk.

That’s not to say growing up here was necessarily dull. Canvey Island certainly had its charm. I remember the flood sirens that used to go off every Tuesday at 10:00am, just in case we ever suffered such a fate as the floods of ‘53 again. It always worried me that one day there would actually be a flood at that time, and maybe we wouldn’t know because everyone would just assume it to be the test siren. Luckily that never happened.

I remember once being in a room of adults, but feeling as though I was the only one who really understood. Too much laughter and conversation about such menial things like the weather and how it was affecting their perennials. It felt as though I was observing tropical fish in a tank- so bright and graceful, yet of no real substance.

When me and my sister were about eight and ten, we made up different plays. We’d perform them for our mum and dad, even making posters which we’d advertise on the doors. They’d exclaim “Super Sisters!” and other such enticing titles, complete with ‘no-smoking’ warnings and ‘please switch mobile phones off'. If anything, we were thorough with our plays. We’d rehearse them a good three times (and by our standards that was a lot) and when it came down to the performing, we’d totally ace it, coming out from behind the curtains, and it really did feel like we were on stage at times. I remember when we performed a play on the subject of alcoholism. It was strange, to say the least. I wonder what my parents thought of it, watching their children shout out “Hi, I’m Terry, I’m an alcoholic, and I beat my wife”. I think in some ways they were proud we could act out such hard-hitting topics.

I grew up watching films my dad liked, and although completely inappropriate for children of our age, we’d laugh at the Monty Python’s Life of Brian. Watching naked men was so very entertaining as a child (well, it still is) and I loved the Holy Grail. “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!” is just such a beautiful line. We were brought up on good music like the Beatles, Queen and the Moody Blues. I thank my dad for that. He taught us well. However a lot of the time my mum and dad were too busy working, so we spent the majority of our youth in the care of our Nan and Granddad. Trips to the beach with chip butties, the time I got stung by a jellyfish and my Granddad told me if I drank orange juice it would make it feel better (of course it did, that was the magic of being a child). I enjoyed going to the place with the squirrels. One of them bit me. I didn’t forgive it.

Noah’s Ark.

Well me and N-dog, as I liked to call him, were chilling on deck, the rain more a sprinkle than its usual waterfall, doing things which the G-man may not have been too proud of. The waves had been a bit turbulent that day, crashing their heavy hands on the side of the ark with a none too gentle caress. We were discussing that morning’s events, sipping a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, when out of the blue N-dog asks “Do you think this is it?”

       You see, I’d known N-dog a long, long time. He was around six hundred years old, after all. But our conversations had never revolved around questions of the existential variety. Which might come as a surprise to most, but really Noah had always been pretty light-hearted and jovial about our particular predicament. The whole forty days and forty nights of rain were always portrayed a little more dramatically than what actually went down. Of course, it had its downsides, sure, but on the whole I thought we were getting used to a life at sea.

       We walked down towards the main hold of the ark. The snuffles and grunts of the animals could be heard, along with the pungent aroma which drifted up and filled the nostrils like a farmyard bouquet. N-dog patted the rump of a fine looking moose. The creature made a noise which is rather indescribable, unless you have actually witnessed the cry of a moose for yourself.  Noah finally turned to look at me, his grey wizened eyes settling on my face. 

    “This world… this beautiful land that we live in. It’s being destroyed. It will always be destroyed. If man continues to walk this earth, it will remain in a constant state of war, one which it cannot win.”


      His words, although poignant and most likely important were however drowned out by the cacophony of animal noises. I didn’t get a chance to reply, as the ark was abruptly tipped sideward. Our bodies lurched starboard. The sound of hundreds of animals being slammed against gopher wood resonated throughout the ark. However, we had become used to such turbulence from our many days at sea, so things quickly calmed down. Noah turned to me once again. 


  “Think of all the species we have lost! The nardvilles, the frantelope, the eedlark - so many have gone to waste! And for what? I sometimes question that man’s motives. It just seems like he’s doing it because, well, he can. Our once rich, verdant environment is lost to this abominable flood! How I yearn to place my feet on solid ground, to feel the grass tickle my toes, the soil beneath my feet!” Noah paused, catching his breath, tears threatening to escape and run down his weathered face. He continued, “This flood. It’s just here to wipe us out. He wants to start afresh, his beautiful flawless globe that he had formed, like his own child, was being damaged, by us, his very own creations. He had perfection, we destroyed it! He knows it would have died if we’d continued living, that we’d pollute it with fumes that it would be unable to choke out. I’ve heard things. Terrible things, new technology, steel contraptions, chemicals, he couldn’t let that happen, surely it would be the end of us all!”

 I told N-dog to lay off the wine before lunch.

Festival Shenanigans: Chapter 1

I feel like I should mention that all of this is merely fiction, and although I do attend Reading Festival, all of the events have been made up for creative purposes.

I was 16 when I lost my virginity. It was at a festival. There was music, laughter and alcohol. People were so happy, the crowds atmosphere brimming on arousal, and then there you were. It was cliché in that our eyes met across the tents. I was eating. Which is quite often. I had spilled tomato sauce all down my white shirt, and I was laughing at how to get it off. You laughed too, not out loud, but with your eyes. I saw them crinkle, and your mouth twitch, your left eyebrow slightly raised. I couldn’t help but think you were beautiful.

It isn’t even like me to do stuff like this. I’m not reckless. I get good grades, I listen to my teachers, I obey my parents, I have a stable group of friends who don’t attend parties that often. In fact, the reason I was at the whole festival that changed my life was because I was celebrating some outstanding GCSE results. I had worked so hard during exam season, making notes, revising, determined to make something of myself. It’s not like it was illegal, but, deviancy just wasn’t something that I was used to.

The day we set off for the festival had been pretty hectic. Food, was, is, and always will be a vital issue. I wanted more food, my friends said we had more than enough. We were getting to Reading by train, and we didn’t want to pack too much. By the time we’d set off, I was in a foul mood. However, before long the train journey had soothed everything, I was happy to be with my friends, and we were on our way to one of the best festivals in Europe. The weather, despite living in Britain, looked astoundingly perfect and I was ready to share some unforgettable memories of summer 2011.

We joked about meeting hot lads whilst planning for Reading, and although none of us had boyfriends or even relationships in the past, we were hopeful we could catch attention. There was Amira, with her tanned skin, deep brown eyes with impossibly long eyelashes, framed with her thick black hair that hung just past her shoulders in loose waves. She had a laugh and gullible mind that made her childish, but I had been best friends with her since playgroup, she was impossilby easy to prank, and that’s only one of the qualities I love about her.

Then there was Ella, the complete contrast to Amira, with her blonde hair and blue eyes. We often joked that ‘Hitler would have her’ but really, we adored her sense of humour, her exaggerated ways and her ability to obsess over the latest boy band. She was a serious stalker, but it could also be a helpful quality when locating certain gorgeous teachers. The last of my friends, Jemima, was again different. Her shoulder length brown hair and quiet ways weren’t necessarily what Jemima was all about. She had a fantastically dry sense of humour that would catch us at such unexpected moments that our cheeks would ache for days after. Also, she was a maths genius, and for that I was jealous of her.

So there we were, me and my group of friends, off to Reading to experience something completely new. I hadn’t expected to meet some tall, adorable looking guy with an incredible ability to raise his eyebrows. It was definitely the tallness that struck me first. This guy was tall, like, over 6 ft. Considering I am only just 5ft myself, I found this incredibly overwhelming. Not necessarily attractive at first. Plus, he wasn’t exactly toned. His arms were a little on the skinny side but he had a wonderfully attractive face. His eyes were a grey blue that I were jealous of. It was his personality that struck me. Struck me like a very fast oncoming car, in a pleasant way.

I hadn’t realised anyone could be so funny or interesting or just so genuinely kind. Or at least that’s what it felt like in my over excitable teenage mind. After our eyes had met that first time. That first time where I made a complete fool of myself, clumsy as always. I didn’t expect anything to happen. It was a look, an intense and shared moment, but that’s all I ever expected. After all, my knowledge of relationships was very limited, coming from books and overly fantasized films. So it was to my complete surpise the next day when you approached me.

We had spent the first night in the tent, all of us, Amira, Ella and Jemima, crowded but not caring, singing and eating until the sun started peaking out across the horizon. We joked throughout the night of what we must look like, our hair a mess and our make up smudged from the day before. Stumbling out the tents, half drunk on happiness, we managed to organise breakfast.

We had bacon sizzling over a camping stove, a last minute purchase we had aquired. There was no cutlery or tissues, so we ate hot bacon, with our hands, dripping with grease. Sustained for at least another hour, we set about dressing ourselves. I wondered if you had waited till that point to stand by our tent.

Lego

Girl with the lego haircut,

He said, oh how he liked it.

Her big doe eyes;

“They could sink a boat”

And now,

She's drowning.

Tastes of coconut,

The scent to remind her of,

Better times but -

They've sunk.

Bottomless

Angst.

Angst. What Love Does. Cancer and Alcohol. 

Washing down the pills with his alcohol
he doesn’t understand
nobody understands, his soul,
lost with the rest of them

The smiling family looking back at him
so cautious as not to
disrupt his ways, promoting
the vicious temper within

Never violent, that wasn’t his way
tortuous was not his game,
the subtle gestures,
were all but enough

There she is, the lonely wife
dealing with too much
the smiling face just too bright
comprehending nothing

The children, no longer children,
grown up knowing
they were loved and wanted
but scared. Scared.

The news they heard, although said,
with calm face and calm mind,
frightened them,
eyes left blinking, innocent no more.

It’s cancer. They told them.
but not serious, don’t fuss
as a family we shall conquer this
needs do, what needs must.

Ambiguity

Today I saw a fight. I normally just leave it. How can I stop that sort of thing? But today was different. Today I struck him. I think I killed him.

I had just been carrying out my day as per usual, sort of drifting from one place to the next. It was unusually  cold for this time of year, there was a chill in the air that pervaded the bones of the people busy in the streets. They looked gloomy, completely oblivious to the world around them. Coats done up tight, hoods up, umbrellas out. Just my very presence seemed to make people morose, and then when I go, they seem so much happier. I hate it. Not everyone’s like that, but I know most are. They see one glimpse of me and think to themselves how they need to hurry and get away from me as soon as possible. I can't help who I am. I just bring them down.

It was one of these low points when I saw the fight, I thought to myself how I let everything just pass me by. I couldn't stand it any longer.

The day had started off so well too. Well, the night, I love astrology. I can watch the stars for hours on end, naming the different constellations and galaxies. It's so inspiring that there's so much out there, and not just space; I think it's important to appreciate things like that. The stars are not the only reason I love the night, it's the moon. She's so beautiful. Though I'm so insignificant compared to her, she's so powerful.

I floated my way towards the other side of town, and that's when I saw the fight. It was between a young female and this guy. A guy with coffee in hand, briefcase in the other, phone attached to the side of his neck. He was too preoccupied with his work, the meetings, his deadlines, his life. He hadn't noticed the vulnerable young girl sitting there on worn blankets, arms outstretched for spare change.

He tripped, he fell. Hot coffee splattered on cold concrete.

I knew he was angry. It was so electric. It practically sparked in the air around him. The young girl, vulnerable as she was, had been toughened by the streets. She yells at him. He yells back. Spit settles on her face. I knew there'd be a fight. I've people watched all my life now. You just know. He goes to hit her, but he's distracted by me, trying to cool things down.

It doesn't work. He's hitting, punching, smacking. Her tears are being drowned out by the rumble of thunder. I'm getting angrier, I need to do something. The man carries on, relentless, unforgiving. Why isn't he stopping?

I strike him. It's the first time I've made lightning.

I think I killed him.