Ramble No. 2: Grandaddy Cool.

Aha, today I have braved the sludge and actually dragged my lazy ass out of bed before 10 o'clock. I know! I'm shocked at myself.

Anyways, I went up to Derby to go shopping and get my haircut with a few friends, and apart from getting chatted up by my hairdresser (who was wearing very nice boots, I might add), 'twas a pretty uneventful day.

I enjoyed getting out though, and got myself a lovely golfer-style cardigan thing, and a nice expensive looking t-shirt...from Primark.

Yes, believe it or not, they actually have some great clothes in Primark at the moment. Well, the men's department at least. In the women's department I saw plenty of things that wouldn't look out of place on an elderly drag queen.

Even so, standards in Primark are rising! :)

What I really love that's coming back into fashion is all the knitwear, and cardies, and like, Grandpa-style jumpers. Aside from being so comfy, I actually really love, style-wise :)

But then, this is coming from someone who spends nighttime in a woollen poncho.

There was lots of suits and formal wear in shops as well, which got me thinking about prom.

I don't want to look like everyone else, and just wear a normal, boring suit, 'cause I know they don't suit me (See what I did there... 'suit me' ;) ...oh never mind), but I don't want to look all tacky, and wear something that I'm gonna regret when I'm older, like a guy who wore black skinny jeans and pink Doc Martins to prom last year...

Then I saw something perfect. It was stylish, it was unique, and even better - it was on sale!

Half price on the TopMan website, I saw this piece of sex:

    Obviously I would wear a nice grey or textured white shirt underneath it, instead of that disgusting printed t-shirt, and accessorize it nicely with a really skinny black tie, and wear the jacket open, but still... It's not particularly a conventionally nice suit, but for some reason I really love it. I nearly cried when I saw that it had sold out in my size.

Ah well. Like life, fashion goes on.

I thought that if I dressed like I belonged in warmer climates, maybe it wouldn't feel so cold....

....I was sadly mistaken, and my moustache was drawn on in permanent marker. :(

Ramble No. 1: Boredom is Fun.

Yes, as you may have guessed, I am that cool that whenever I'm bored I have a 'ramble' and whenever I'm angry I have a 'rant'. ;D

Well, today I'm off school once again because of bad weather. Any other kid would relish in this, going sledging, having fun in the snow, and the like.
I'm sat in front of the computer, typing this blog, with a book I'm reading for extra credit in English Literature.
I'll say it once again... I am so cool!

Anyways, I love these days where you just laze about, reading, listening to music, watching day-time TV, etc.
I don't feel the normal teenage compulsion to go out, I am completely at ease with just staying at home, lounging.

And to embark further upon my transgression into being prematurely middle-aged (he he, I used big words) I am knitting a scarf and hat, for my friend for Christmas :) We did Secret Santa, and we have a £10 limit, so instead of doing the normal thing, buying a £10 box of chocolates, or item of clothing, etc,  I have decided to get her all little things that I can make myself cheaply.
God, I must sound like such a cheap-skate, but seriously, my intentions are good, if somewhat misguided :P

So far, I've got:
- A knitted pumpkin hat and scarf
- A CD I burned of bands that she loves
- Some mince pies I baked
- A lovely bound Jane Austin novel I got at the charity shop I volunteer at.

And I finish this rather boring entry with one final thought:
Does anyone else find it ironic that I'm knitting in something called 'faggot' stitch? :P

The icicles outside my window are monstrous! D:
They're like stalactites.

I have the strange compulsion to break one of and lick it...

Rant No. 1: My parents vs. Franco.

Sometimes I wonder what the difference is between my parents and a facist dictatorship.
Then I realise. At least in a facist dictatorship, there's communication.
Ever since I can remember, my parents have been making judgements about the way I live my way, snide comments about any decision I make. They think they're all 'liberal' and 'new-age' saying they don't care what I do in life and who I spend it with as long as I'm happy, whereas they actually provide a constant pressure for me to be who they want me to be. When I want to go out with friends they disapprove of - I lie. When I want to go and do something that might conflict with their beliefs - I lie. I have to compromise my values when I'm around them so I can live life the way I want to. Yes, this probably sounds like I'm over-exaggerating a lot, that I'm just going through a rebellious adolescent phase, but I have lived through 15 years of this, and I'm fed up.
The problems with my parents originate with the fact that they don't take me seriously, and that I have little respect for them.
We never talk.
I can literally go through a week without saying more than a sentence to my father.
And the only time my parents ever seem to take an interest in my life, is when they think I'm doing something wrong.

And after that essay-like introduction to my parental relationship, I can tell you about what my rant today is actually about.
A couple of days ago, I accidentally over-dosed on Codeine. I had the most terrible migraine and I couldn't think straight.
I had to make myself throw up, but the majority of pills had already been absorbed. I could have died, or gotten seriously kidney problems.
And yet, instead of being concerned about why I took the pills to start with, my parents were furious about the fact that I told my best friend about it. Ashamed.

Yesterday, I wanted to go out and meet up with a few friends. I was unbelievably snowy outside, but not that cold, so I wore a shirt and a jacket on top of my normal clothes. When I got home, my mother told me I was grounded for not wearing my scarf and gloves, and that if I ever went out without them again, she would lock me in the house until winter was finished. Shocked by my mother's pettiness, I said nothing. She hasn't spoken to me since. My mother - the 50-year-old infant.

Today, my dad asked me to check online to see if my school was going to be open tomorrow. I was really busy with revision for exams, and I literally didn't have the time, so I told him that, and that if I school was going to be closed, I would have seen on Facebook for sure. But if he was that bothered, he could always look himself.
That prompted him to burst into my room, shouting at the top of his lungs, that my attitude has been abysmal this past few days, how ashamed of me he is, and how he's going to ban me from going to a concert on Monday; a once in a lifetime chance to see my favourite band, that I've been looking forward to for months.

Obviously, there must be something going on with my parents for them to behave like this, but I'm fed up of them taking out their problems on me. It's been like this ever since my brother went to university. With the favourite son gone, I was just an outlet for their withered marriage, and dreary job prospects. It's not like our relationship can take the strain.


I've always known that I've never been as close to my parents as other people, but it's only over this past year that I've realised, I don't love them.