please mrs bulter,

this boy derek drew,

keeps copying my work miss,

what should i do?

go and sit in the hall, dear.

go and sit in the sink.

take your books on the roof my lamb,

do whatever you think.

please mrs bulter,

this boy derek drew,

keeps taking my rubber miss,

what should i do?

keep it in your hand, dear.

hide it up your vest.

swallow it if you like, my love.

do whatever you think is best.

please mrs bulter,

this boy derek drew,

keeps calling me rude names miss,

what should i do?

lock yourself in a cupboard, dear,

run away to sea.

do whatever you can, my flower,

but don't ask me.

- allan ahlberg (he's my favourite)

georgia asked me what my favourite short stories were today, and i don't really like short stories but i LOVE nonsense poetry. my mom used to read it all to me when i was little so when i was looking up the names of the poets she was giving me i recognised all the stuff! i never knew i knew so much about children's poetry. i definitely want to take the children's literature module next year.

hello world, i'm your wild girl. i'm your cherrybomb.

“I’ve never understood why so many men have allowed themselves to be brainwashed by the feminazi myth machine into believing that rape is such a serious crime … Rape is simply sex. Women enjoy sex, so rape cannot be such a terrible physical ordeal.

To suggest that rape, when conducted without violence, is a serious crime is like suggesting that forcefeeding a woman chocolate cake is a heinous offence. A woman would be more inconvenienced by having her handbag snatched.

The demonisation of rape is all part of the feminazi desire to obtain power and mastery over men. Men who go along with the rape myth are either morons or traitors.”

Nick Eriksen, senior BNP leader (via Women more troubled by bag theft than rape, BNP candidate claims | Mayor)

this man is disgusting. DISGUSTING.

i wonder what this country is coming too when we have people who open their mouths and say idiotic things like this.

twat.

all i want is a room somewhere .

i think it's about time i introduced you to a hero of mine.

molly ringwald.

she is a very important woman in my life.

watch pretty in pink. you won't regret it.

actually you might. the fashion is awful.

but entertaining.

needless to say. i'm going to watch it again.

i love the eighties.

rainbow rose

these roses are grown this way. they are handdyed by injecting the stalk in four different places while they are growing.

i can't do it alone.

i hope you realise that a lot of my blog titles are from musicals at the moment. there is a reason for this. it's cause i have a musical playlist on spotify and i am completely addicted.

okay. i am afaird i am going to go on yet another rant. and yes it is about my flatmates. again.

i have NO cutlery and NO clean plates.

i have not had clean big plates since gee was here almost two weeks ago.

which, jsyk, i cleaned and put away before i left and when i got back they were used.

basically, i just went into the kitchen to make myself a bit of pitta bread, and i was confronted with this lovely image. my kitchen. is a TIP. and that is only half of the washing up. my cupboard is EMPTY and i try to keep as much of my own stuff clean as possible and if it's not clean it's hidden in my room so no one else has to see my mess. mam says that mess stresses people out, so the fact i have to live like this is just not helping my mood like one bit. i don't even know how i am going to eat dinner tonight since all my stuff is dirty and like other people have been using it.

i just said to margot that i thought the kitchen needed to be sorted and she told me, and i quote that i "needed to sort myself." and that "we all live together so i needed to take some initive." IT'S NOT MY MESS. IT IS YOURS. AND I HAVE TO LIVE IN IT. YOU ARE USING MY STUFF THEN LEAVING IT DIRTY AND EXPECTING ME TO WASH IT AND WHEN I DO YOU JUST USE IT AGAIN.

i am THIS close to just washing all my own stuff then moving everything i own out of the kitchen and keeping it all in a cupboard in my room.

wish me luck the same to you.

bee. bethan. nineteen. english student. a musical lover. awakening spring. a lover of glee. crazy. loving. ambitious. gentle. vampire crazy. smart. on the twilight fence. harry potter nutter. wishes she were a gryffindor. but is probably a hufflepuff. cute photograph collector. amatuer at everything. hasn't found what she is good at yet. singer. well. maybe. skinny dipping in the twyi at midnight. bare feet in the sand. working by candlelight. a cup of cofee each and every morning. ice cream fiend. film lover. movie nights with friends. giggling sessions. sunsets on cold winter days. snowy fridays. in daylight. in sunsets. in cups of coffee. in inches. in miles. in laughter. in strife. five hundred, twentyfive thousand, six hundred minutes. how do you measure a year in the life?

one song glory.

my attempt at photography.

on saturday we all kinda wanted to go out, but we didn't want to leave senghennydd, and i didn't have id, so instead we brought some alchol and stayed in playing drinking games, it was soooo much fun! if i bit werid! i got so drunk on so little alchol! i had a bottle of toffee apple cider (YUM) and a bottle of archers raspberry (NOM) and we chatted and laughed and generally had fun. no matter how bad my luck is at the moment, i know i can count on ALL my friends to cheer me up. =]

these are the lovely bones.

okay so i am having a bad week.

well, it's a bad couple weeks, though last week i had Gee here which made it awesome anyway, but this week i am just floating around in a little bubble of shit.

last night at half past three in the MORNING my flatmate brings these two guys from rowing around and fine, i don't mind, i have people back to the flat sometimes. however, when they start SCREAMING and SHOUTING and KNOCKING ON MY BEDROOM DOOR i start getting pissed. as a result i had barely any sleep, which just puts me in a pissy mood and makes it that i can't deal with anything at all. i was a complete moody bitch this morning, and mopped through my lecture and practically slept through my seminar. so, on the way back from uni i went to the bank account, checked my balance and almost burst into tears. i am not going to be able to eat til the end of term. so i ring my dad up and am THIS close to telling him that i am packing and he can pick me up at the end of the day, but instead i go see my mamgu and she feeds me lunch (thankfully. i can't afford dinner).

as soon as i got back to the house i wrote my CV and emailed it to my dad, so fingers crossed i will have a job pretty soon. He said if i could get a CV to him he would give it to the people who run Castell Coch, and it would be basically the same job at home, but at least i would have a bit more flipping money. so keep your fingers crossed.

lottie texted me asking if i wanted to go to the cinema, and even though i can't afford it, i raided my room for pennies and managed to find the £2.50 that i would need for half an orange ticket and went to see the lovely bones. on the way back, however, someone, and i kid you not, CHUCKS A BOILED EGG AT ME. no word of a lie. and i am still lacking sleep, and a bit pissy, but i don't want lottie to think i am crazy since really we are only just getting to know each other but inside i am about to blow. i get into the house and go straight to make myself a cup of tea and margot comes into the kitchen, all sweetness and light and i attempt to give her the cold shoulder, but i fail epically.

OH AND THEN MY COMPUTER CRASHES HALF WAY THROUGH THIS BLOG.

if i make it alive to next week. i will be surprised. don't you think it's about time something GOOD happened to me?

seasons of love .

five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes,
five hundred, twenty five thousand moments so dear,
five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes,
how do you measure, measure a year?

in daylight, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee,
in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife,
five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes,
how do you measure a year in the life?

how about love?

that is right damon salvatore. you make my day worthwhile.

the bitch of fucking living.

it sucks. no honestly it does.

i went to these auditions on saturday right? i didn't know they were on until half an hour after they started and i got a text from a friend telling me to meet him there, i rush out of bed, barely put any makeup on and rush down to were the auditions on, and even though i had no notice what so ever. i nailed it. i nailed the audition and i know i did.

however, i still don't get a part. oh i have energy and talent and i should audition again next time but i am not right for this particular production. please bitch. spare me.

sorry, i am in a bad mood, i only seem to remember about this blog when i am in a bad mood. i don't know, maybe i need thearpy or something... again.

yes i am disappointed, and yes i do remember telling everyone that i was taking a year out of drama and concentrating on english literature and that i shouldn't let this get to me. but for a second there, i let myself get excited about it again. i forgot about the bitchiness and the crap that comes with it, the stress, and the annoying directors. the girls who think they are so much better than you and the boys who barely look at you twice. i remembered how much i simply loved speaking the words on a page. how much i loved letting it consume me completely, immersing myself in my character, be it shakespeare, pinter or even just a devised piece.

and the thing that really shits on me? is the fact that there is probably a 80% i didn't get a part cause i am a girl. cause girls always turn up for these things when there are only 3 girls roles available while there are 15 guys roles for the 3 guys who appear.

it's not fair.