Empty Cage

I have not written for a good long while so I figured an update was in order for all of you fans. All three of you, that is. Is it sad that one of my few avid readers is my mother? That’s like saying ‘Yea, I’m a good singer, my mommy tells me so.’ Regardless, time to talk about something that makes me feel less pathetic.

Like Setine’s discovery of my blog, which brought much rejoicing to my shocked and wondering eyes. If that wasn’t a one-hit-wonder type of comment, I say, ‘Hello Setine, of course I remember you, you defined the awesome of my childhood along with the rest of the gang.’ Amber and Crystal may bask in that statement as well.

On to more about Scotland and my new discovery. Cockburn street is where freaky goth/emo/subculture kids hang out, it’s kind of like Queen street, minus the big box stores all crammed into about half the size of hardcoreity. It’s pretty nifty, actually, I spent a lot of money in my mind. No actual money, but with brain money, christ I’ve gone into negative numbers.

But I have come to a number of conclusions about the hardcore sector in most major cities, called (very uncleverly by me) the Black Light districts. First is the Canadian example, that is Queen street, this huge sprawlingly massive street where the weird walk easily amongst the normal. American Eagle is practically across the street from Borderlines, if you see what I mean. Basically, it’s where the brightly coloured people look at the ‘shades’ people and wonder which will go postal. Interestingly enough, the ‘shades’ people are wondering the exact same thing.

Camden Town is London’s ttly (chatspeaked for a reason) hardxcore district. Whenever you go down here you feel like it’s a fasion show, you half expect when the people get to the end of the street, they stop, make a pouty face, and turn around and walk back up the street. Everyone is the complete and perfect stereotype of whatever subculture they partake in. There’s no semi-goths like me, only hardfickingcore ones. In all honesty, like most of London, when you walk down the streets of Camden you generally assume people dislike you for some reason. Possibly because you have an invisible tattoo on the back of your head that says ‘idiot colonial’ that only British people can see. There is no way to remove this tattoo.

Finally, Cockburn street, the street that made me realise what the world would be like if goth was the prodominant dress style, rather than preppy. Let me explain. Walking down this street you have the usual cobbled lanes and shops, the street itself is on a hill, the street is not extrordinary, the people was what got me. A bunch of eyelinered children playing jump rope on the sidewalk, while a few watched. Some oddly aged ones (no I’m not kidding, old goths) sitting on a bench chatting while two black boot clad parents pushed a baby in a carriage up the hill. I thought I was dillusional. Maybe I was.

I went to Waterstones after that little out of body experience and purchased the 2 pound editon of Sherlock Holmes, remembering only after that this was the hometown of the author, I read the first bit in the park before returning to the hostel to blog about how insane Cockburn street was.

To my commenters:

To Setine, of course I remember you (see above) and was delighted to see your comment. We should talk more!

To Amber, of course I am enjoying myself, and I would be beside myself with glee to have the Ravens Fanlisting, I now have the Fanlist for Ravens and The Raven. Thus proving the bird which used to be in the empty cage. Though, now I have to make a layout.

To Kassi, (sorry for the name misspelling! Erk!) You should seriously come back, and don’t worry about the plastered thing, if I wanted to avoid it I would have made an excuse on the phone, seriously. Don’t be embarassed, I’m cool.

To Ange, ANSWER YOUR FUNKING PHONE! *ahem* Of course I am popular with the guys now, I have an accent, and that makes me wicked cool.

To Mah, 153.

To Crystal, always.

Yesterday’s entry is a bit dreary. I thought long and hard about what I had written here and read my comments very carefully. The big problems are the ups and downs, not just the downs. It’s very much how I imagine drugs (don’t I sound like such a prude now… Who am I kidding? I’m a huge prude. I’ve taken to lying to people about why I don’t drink to avoid feeling too lame. Hahaha! It would probably be easier to start the habit). Any ways, I guess the problem is I’m still trying to figure out what the heck I’m doing here, maybe once my head wraps around that I’ll be a bit less insecure. I really do appreciate happy little comments though, makes me less inclined to think I’ve gone completely crazy.

I hung out with Kate for most of yesterday, we chatted and had sandwitches. It is truly amazing how meeting up with a friend can make everything about a hundred times better. I mean, I was in a decidedly miserable mood, and even though nothing about the day changed a wave of something terrible, like a frighteningly potent optimism gave my liver a good twist. (Liver or gallbladder the choice was a tough one). I also had a chat with Andrew, may day looked up.

I even made a new friend, and despite spending the day wandering Camden market with her didn’t learn her name until lunch (It was Helen for those curious) Another American. I’ve met hardly any British people here — all Americans! She was very nice, she’s 27, making me feel like I’m the youngest person in the UK right now. Or at least, the most insane nineteen year old ever. Which is where the entry title comes from — I got a Bauhaus shirt in Camden market– I love it. Something small, but going somewhere with a friend, even if you don’t know their name makes everything better. Maybe being lonely has had something to do with my moods.

I keep getting distracted from this entry, I have a good old fashioned Yorkshire cold now, and am sniffling something fierce. Hopefully this entry will make me seem a bit less deranged than the last.

Of course to my commenters (no one knows how much I love comments)

Erica, who are you kidding, I was always the brains you were the… vocal cords, I was the pinnacle or awesome whilst you were my sidekick.

Amber, if I ever find them death will be the least of their worries, it will be the horrible way which they are killed! Mwahahahaha~~! And I needed the black square *sobs* The next chapter is almost finished by the way (You thought I had forgotten I’ll bet!) Obviously I’ve been a bit held up, but I’m near done.

And to Kathy, first of all, thank you very much for how helpful you’ve been to me, your comment was very thoughtful as well, and I difficult one to really reply to. That’s definately a part of it, the exposure, if you aren’t raw, real and very brash about who you think you are then you’ll be lost during this experience, but achieving that level of reality is hard because it really is leaving yourself open. While you won’t get lost you will get hurt — thinking of it like a hand over a candle, if you cover it you can burn your hand, if you don’t it can go out.