Title?

I may not be much of a 'perfect girl',
Too prude once, and another, well...
But I'll put on my AC/DC shirt,
And sing 'em all, like fuckin' hell.

Unemployed in the U.K.

For the past two days, the most interesting thing I can say I've done is that I've started watching the first series of Shameless (USA).

Yesterday I was so frustrated about not having anything to do, that I dedicated my evening to decorating a hard-boiled egg for my mother to place on a colleague's desk for a joke. (The joke was because she was starting the "egg diet" - you start off eating no less than nine eggs a day, and then gradually lower the intake as the week progresses. Stupidest thing I've ever heard, but you know what middle-aged women are like for fad diets.) Anyway, I made a wig out of wool, a leopard print dress lined with red ribbon, and stuck googly eyes on her face - complete with green eyeshadow and giant lashes. It was pretty impressive I must say... but the degree of usefulness? Zero.

What I'm trying to say is, being unemployed is majorly shit. I want to work, and I want to do something before my brain rots completely, between episodes of Jeremy Kyle and wondering what to make for dinner.

I might take some advice from my biggest influence - music - and use these lyrics as my motto for the rest of the week: "Today is the first day of the rest of our lives," and actually do something productive before the weekend is over!

What Music Means to Me: Jesus of Suburbia

To this day, still I remember the first time I ever heard Jesus of Suburbia.

It was the summer of 2005, and my cousin had just bought the American Idiot album. At the time I was twelve, and to me, music was a poppy mash-up of old Steps CD's and a couple of Hearsay songs I used to screech along to in the car.  We were sitting upstairs in a room we shared on weekends at our grandparents' house, and she casually told me about this great new band she'd started listening to called ‘Green Day’. After the go-ahead from me, she popped American Idiot into the CD player as nonchalantly as she would any other passing band who took her fancy for a couple of months, and I sat back, listening, as the album rocketed into life.

As any kid first getting into rock music would, I thought the song American Idiot was fantastic. It was loud, fast, cool, and most of all, had a swear word in it. We fiercely pressed the repeat button more than a dozen times and rocked out on the bedroom carpet - air guitars and pretend stage dives and all. It was probably the most fun I'd ever had listening to a song in my life, and hey, I was an S-Club 7 fan. After a good half an hour of flailing around wildly in a way which could barely be described as human, let alone dancing, we collapsed in a heap on our beds and shut our eyes, exhausted.

It was after this crushing end to our American Idiot session, that I first heard the two lines of lyrics which little did I know, would go on to not only impact, but shape me in a way I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly repay them for. With their blunt, assertive, magnificence, out from the speakers blasted “I'm the son of rage and love, the Jesus of Suburbia."

Bender #1

Reasons as to why I haven't updated my online diary this weekend:

Real posts coming from a hungover blogger after an eventful four days will be coming soon! I've got some great ideas I want to get started on Busy Going Nowhere, including a range of posts called "What Music Means To Me" (MMM for short). The first - dedicated to the sensational Jesus of Suburbia - will be up tomorrow. In the mean time, payback for those Jägerbombs begins now...

Sorry From Last Night

Wrote this last night in a remorseful mood:

Sorry’s not the hard part,

It’s waiting for the ride,

While your head is breaking your heart,

And your lips and hands are tied

Worse than feeling lonely,

Because it’s well deserved,

You’ve wounded your one and only,

Now eat your just desserts.

Just a little something I knocked up around two minutes ago called “Waiting to Apologize”. It’s about a silly situation which has been playing guiltily on my mind for the past hour or so, like a tiny little fairy on my shoulder, tapping incessantly on the remorseful section of my brain with a self-righteous attitude. Why must we as humans, make snap judgements? Why must we, as an intelligent, insightful and thoughtful species, feel that uncontrollable urge to blurt a vomit of empty frustrations at the first sign of a detour on the route to our personal satisfaction? You know what? I have no fucking clue, and that is the most honest and well researched answer I can possibly concoct after nearly nineteen years of experiencing “the World”.

Introduction

Time: 6:35pm

Location: My room

Listening to: Boys Boys Boys – Lady Gaga

In fear of having to change my “listening to” section for the fifth time in a row now, I’m going to get on with this thing. As this is my first post here I want to firstly introduce myself to the wonderful BlogSpot community (pleased to meet you, by the way), and finally, write a little bit about the exciting stuff to expect on here for the next year.

Well, my name is Cathy and I’m eighteen years old. My first loves are music, writing, and anything which involves exploring your imagination. In short, I’ve started this blog to make sure I keep writing after leaving college, and to show off some stuff I’ve been hiding away on my laptop which don’t count as stories, or lyrics, or anything with a plotline, really. What I’m hoping to attempt here is a year in the life of me, Cathy – a bit like a virtual diary, noting all the trials and tribulations, ups and downs, and inspiring things I encounter every day.

Anyway, I’m going to try to keep this quick because I love the song I’m listening to with a passion, and don’t want to change it yet again. I really hope you enjoy reading my posts and if you don’t, thank you for bothering to check them out in the first place! The first will be coming up soon…

My Twitter (Follow me!)

My Mibba  (Some of my lyrics and poems available to read here!)