Things that happened on Thursday:
More classroom observation at the school. It’s hard not to be cheered when walking into an environment where the first thing you hear is a group of teenagers gleefully singing “Barbara Streisand! OooOoOoOoooOoOOOOoooo!” - had to smile to myself. One of the things I love about working in a school: if you’re feeling miserable it’s not long before someone says something stupid and makes you laugh.
In a similar vein, there’s always a kid that tugs on your heart strings. The Year 7s were doing presentations today on ‘Someone you admire’. Things had been jolly and light-hearted; mentions of footballers and the like. Until one young girl began: “The person I admire most is my mum. Even though she is dead…”. At this point the whole class started paying attention, while this quietly confident 11 year old began to tell us about her mum who’d had breast cancer, and passed away aged just 37. She told us her mum’s name was Susan, and how she loved wearing jeans, and how she was short with blondey brown hair and “not very skinny”. She told us that before she died her mum had taken the family on special days out, and bought them presents they now treasure. She talked of how she worried that their dad may not be able to look after them properly because “you know what men are like”. She told us that it took her a great deal of time to come to terms with her mum’s death, and for a while she hated leaving the house because all she could see around her was other people having fun with their mums, and she’d have to play a loud noise in her head and concentrate on that to drown everything else out. She finished by saying her dad was doing a pretty good job of taking care of everything, and everyone.
By the end the little lady had tears in her eyes, and she wasn’t the only one. Steph (the teacher) and I just looked at each other open mouthed and glassy eyed. What a brave young girl, able to share something so personal, and talk so honestly about such an emotional topic, without cracking up or losing her focus. Above all, she admired someone worthy of such respect, awe and inspiration. She seemed to be a wise kid, and a credit to her parents.
She got top marks for her presentation.
Later that day…
I got chatting to a lady who was also taking part in classroom observation, but she’s actually on her PGCE. Turns out training as a teacher is a huge career and life change for her; she was born and bred in London, had never been to Wales before, and up until this year was a journalist. For the Daily Mirror. Piers Morgan was her editor for a while. PIERS MORGAN EVERYBODY! Round of applause for that!
So being my usual gossipy self I was all “Ooo tell me more…”. She was a news/features/travel journalist, so no juicy celebrity spillage sadly (total let down) but she DID tell me she was glad to see the back of journalism; she said that, from her experience, it’s a very blood-thirsty business, dog-eat-dog, and a chauvinistic environment to work in. She said even in this day and age women are not treated as equals in the business, especially when it comes to pay.
*clings onto PGCE application for dear life*.
She also said she LOVES Wales - “it’s a different world up here!”. She wants to move her whole family here and is disappointed she hadn’t spent more time here before this, because she definitely would’ve moved here sooner. WIN FOR WALES! *bakes Welsh Cakes, picks daffodils, herds sheep*
Even later than day…
I went for a hair cut, at long flipping last. My resemblance to Morticia Aadams was becoming uncanny. They’re funny creatures, hairdressers; I don’t get this need to just talk and talk and talk. See, I like having my hair done, or my nails, or a massage, or just being faffed with in general (oo-er). It’s relaxing; a time for peace and quiet. Not this:
- Going away anywhere nice?
- Yeah, I’m going to New York in January.
- Ooo! Are you going for Christmas?
- No. In, erm… January.
- Lovely! Have you been before?
- No, first time. Have you?
- Not New York no… I’ve been to Newquay…
But they’re not the same, are they? They just have ‘New’ in the title. I think it’s pretty safe to say similarities stop and end there.
At this she just let me get on with my daydreaming while chopping away. Although, it does make staring at yourself in the mirror almost unavoidable, and this lead me to the shocking realisation that I either have a wonky eye or a wonky eyebrow. Neither are ideal but I’m hoping it is the latter as I imagine it’d be easier to fix.
Things that happened on Friday:
School time. There was a lovely lad in first lesson but he’d just moved over from Spain and could barely speak a word of English. I had great fun playing with flashcards with him though, and he taught me the odd Spanish word/phrase. Made me laugh that when I shown him the flashcard with a picture of a telephone on it he said “iPhone”. Fair enough like.
Bottom set year 9, period 3, are always a pleasure. No really, I’m not being sarcastic. There’s Little Miss Attitude who will only read aloud to me, which makes my heart soar with a certain smugness, not gonna lie. There was another lad who I told to “mind the swearing”. He replied “But it’s my CULTURE, Miss!” He has a point.
I’m trying to cap my swearing in every day life so as to avoid any unfortunate incident of it slipping out when around pupils, so expect a lot of “fluffing hell!” and “what a pile of sugar!”. This is the Minister for Education, you are live in the classroom, please do not say fuck or bugger.
In other news…
Since trying my first ever cherry yogurt on Monday I’ve developed somewhat of a fixation. I’ve eaten at least one a day since then (yes, I said ‘at least’) and today I went to Tesco and bought nothing other than 4 Muller low fat cherry yogurts and squirreled them away like an addict. They won’t see the weekend out. Ooo look at me, I’m somewhat of a maverick. Anyone’d think I was going out scouting for meth. No, just fermented milk products. I may not be cool but I do have strong bones.
Things I think about when I can’t sleep at night…
1) I have so much to do. I should really be reading. Maybe I should get up and read.
2) If I don’t get my finger out I’m going to be stuck with a load of work all over Christmas. Again.
3) I hope I make a good teacher. I need to be a bit more stern though I think. Big loud voices and what not. Hope they don’t walk all over me.
4) I hope it snows when we’re in New York.
5) I do love Russell Brand, I do.
6) I wonder if John and Josie will stay together.
7) I’d quite like a rabbit.
8) Or a hedgehog.
9) I really enjoy the word ‘rhombus’.
Over and out x
Friday 22 October 2010
Wednesday 20 October 2010
I fail at life.
If you know me in real life (or if you’re Orla), you’ll know that it takes a lot to make cry. Sometimes I’ll say “Awww that makes me want to cry!” if I feel really emotional, but no actual human tears will come. I reserve these for the death of a beloved pet, or stubbing my toe.
But right now, I’m crying. In frustration, I think. I just feel like I’m struggling with everything at the moment and I’m not very good at dealing with stress.
When we were Freshers I remember third year students really dwelling on how important it was to enjoy ourselves then, because come final year we wouldn’t be able to see the light of day. Of course we didn’t take a blind bit of notice and just carried on applying our neon eye shadow. But now I see what they mean.
I’m in week 4 of third year now. As well as the usual reading (because with English Literature there’s kind of A LOT of reading. Who knew?) - two plays and lots of poetry per week, along with dissertation novels, and critical reading for all three modules - this is on it’s way:
Week 6 - Dissertation report.
Week 7 - Two 3,500 word essays to be handed in on the same day. One on Modern American Drama (which I love), one on Contemporary Poetry (which makes me want to hack my own head off with a steak knife).
Week 8 - Dissertation oral presentation. Public speaking not my forte. Neither are over head projectors and flippy chart things. And the line “The floor is open for questioning” sets me all aquiver already.
I’ve been trying to go into the school as much as I can to organise myself for the PGCE application. I’m really grateful for this, and the English teacher whose lessons I’m sitting in on is absolutely lovely and has gone above and beyond to help me. It does take up time though.
Plus work starts again in November. I can’t wait for the smell of sweet sweet money (another ma-jah issue; where does it all go?) but again - not enough hours in the day.
And then there’s my driving. I suck at driving. I failed my first mock test because I was watching a squirrel run up someone’s drive and may have possibly (definitely) knocked a stationary car’s wing mirror. I hate driving. "Do you WANT to be able to drive Amy?" - "Yes. But I also WANT to marry Russell Brand. Doesn’t make me Katy Perry, does it?"
I’m having trouble keeping my head above water to be honest. It’s making me really cranky and then I feel bad for getting pissed off at perfectly nice people. I feel like I’m letting people down at every turn, whether it be friends, family, tutors… And I can’t even turn to my beloved chocolate for solace because I’m sick of feeling like Susan facking Boyle and want to shift my cake shelf (like a muffin top but x10) pronto.
I sound like such a self-pitying little knob shite, so I’m sorry. It’s not as if I’m the only person in the world who’s got a lot on. I know there’s people a lot worse off than me. And I know there’s plenty of people who’d give their right arm to go to Uni but can’t now due to Wacko Camo. So again, sorry. Hope no one reads all of this, because I sound like a whimpering little girl. I’m off to grow a pair. And do some shit. Will be back when I’m less of a basket case.
Muchos love x
101 days to New York…. #onlythingkeepingmegoing
But right now, I’m crying. In frustration, I think. I just feel like I’m struggling with everything at the moment and I’m not very good at dealing with stress.
When we were Freshers I remember third year students really dwelling on how important it was to enjoy ourselves then, because come final year we wouldn’t be able to see the light of day. Of course we didn’t take a blind bit of notice and just carried on applying our neon eye shadow. But now I see what they mean.
I’m in week 4 of third year now. As well as the usual reading (because with English Literature there’s kind of A LOT of reading. Who knew?) - two plays and lots of poetry per week, along with dissertation novels, and critical reading for all three modules - this is on it’s way:
Week 6 - Dissertation report.
Week 7 - Two 3,500 word essays to be handed in on the same day. One on Modern American Drama (which I love), one on Contemporary Poetry (which makes me want to hack my own head off with a steak knife).
Week 8 - Dissertation oral presentation. Public speaking not my forte. Neither are over head projectors and flippy chart things. And the line “The floor is open for questioning” sets me all aquiver already.
I’ve been trying to go into the school as much as I can to organise myself for the PGCE application. I’m really grateful for this, and the English teacher whose lessons I’m sitting in on is absolutely lovely and has gone above and beyond to help me. It does take up time though.
Plus work starts again in November. I can’t wait for the smell of sweet sweet money (another ma-jah issue; where does it all go?) but again - not enough hours in the day.
And then there’s my driving. I suck at driving. I failed my first mock test because I was watching a squirrel run up someone’s drive and may have possibly (definitely) knocked a stationary car’s wing mirror. I hate driving. "Do you WANT to be able to drive Amy?" - "Yes. But I also WANT to marry Russell Brand. Doesn’t make me Katy Perry, does it?"
I’m having trouble keeping my head above water to be honest. It’s making me really cranky and then I feel bad for getting pissed off at perfectly nice people. I feel like I’m letting people down at every turn, whether it be friends, family, tutors… And I can’t even turn to my beloved chocolate for solace because I’m sick of feeling like Susan facking Boyle and want to shift my cake shelf (like a muffin top but x10) pronto.
I sound like such a self-pitying little knob shite, so I’m sorry. It’s not as if I’m the only person in the world who’s got a lot on. I know there’s people a lot worse off than me. And I know there’s plenty of people who’d give their right arm to go to Uni but can’t now due to Wacko Camo. So again, sorry. Hope no one reads all of this, because I sound like a whimpering little girl. I’m off to grow a pair. And do some shit. Will be back when I’m less of a basket case.
Muchos love x
101 days to New York…. #onlythingkeepingmegoing
Thursday 14 October 2010
"If you lick his face I'll pay for your Nando's..."
I’ve fancied the pants off Russell Brand since I first saw him on Big Brother’s Big Mouth back in 2005. An odd choice for a 15 year old, considering all my peers were hankering after the likes of Justin Timberlake, David Beckham and just, ya know… non ex-drug addicts. But there was something about the way his hair stood a good 2 feet above his head in a black tangled mess, his random stringing together of words (“Umbongo Jumanji Russell!”), his hilarious but bizarre sense of humour, and his overall unique presence that caught my attention. Back then, I didn’t have a clue people like Russell Brand actually existed. He was a fascinating novelty to me. Also, I liked the way he’d say “Pulled down my trousers and pants” every episode, but I never told anyone that bit.
I continued in my admiration of Russell Brand - while my friends went through their Zac Efron stages, or whatever - throughout his career, which was probably not aimed at a rather virtuous 16 year old; presenting BBBM and the NME awards, Russell Brand on the Road, The Russell Brand Show, Russell Brand’s Ponderland (which I still adore - cannot watch the episode on ‘Childhood’ without laughing so much I literally stop breathing and thus panic). I went to see all his films at the cinema; St Trinians, where he played Flash Harry; then there was Forgetting Sarah Marshall; more recently Get Him To The Greek, which was bloody brilliant (in my strictly unbiased opinion). Then there’s his stand-up shows; Shame, Doing Life: Live, Scandalous: all hilarious, of course. Interviews, podcasts, TV appearances; been there, heard that, taped the other. Okay okay, I’m starting to sound like his Wikipedia page now. Moving on…
It’s only once you’ve read Booky Wook that you can really understand Russell Brand for the person that he is actually is, rather than his stage and media caricature; staggeringly intelligent, beautifully philosophical, sensitive, generous, thoughtful, and strong.
I’m not one to judge people for the person they have once been; your past builds towards the person you are to become, and as long as that person is kind and decent and loving, that’s all I’m interested in. People are quick to accuse others of changing for the worse, but few of us trust that people can change for the better.
We all know that Russell was an addict: heroin, alcohol, sex. Even Penguin biscuits at one point (particularly the blue wrappered variety). At it’s worst, his drug addiction got to the point where he was told he had two choices: quit it all, immediately; or continue, and be met with prison, a mental asylum, or death within the next 6 months. Simple as that.
And, well… he’s still here. (At least I hope he bloody is or I met some crazed impostor last week.) He tore himself from his loved ones, his home country, and the only life he’d ever known, to go to rehab in America where he went completely cold turkey. I don’t think any of us could comprehend the strength, bravery, and pain involved in that. He describes this period in detail in his book - never once looking for sympathy, or in a self-indulgent, pitying manner. Just with brutal honesty. Reading it was painful enough; living it is unimaginable. In December it’ll be 8 years since Russell turned his back on that drink and drug driven lifestyle, and he has never once looked back. My admiration and respect for him because of this is through the roof.
And it's not just because I think he's sexy as hell (which I do), or because I think he's a comedy genius (which I do), but I can identify with a lot of what Russell says. Obviously I’m a bit wishy washy on the whole sex-drugs-rock’n’roll aspect, but the deeper side - his thoughts on life and stuff - I’m totally there on that one. And believe it or not, I’m prone to the odd peculiar thought too.
So when I finished Russell’s Booky Wook I got it into my head that, if he wrote a second, I WOULD be going to his book signing. And I was going to meet him. I informed my best friend Lindsey of my plan, and she said she was well up for this. Lauren and Jen were also beyond keen to meet old Ruster Brand too. Excellent. Sorted.
But this was back in 2008. I just though it was one of those things you talk about, but never actually do. Like going to Pilates, or eating an avocado. Fast forward to Thursday 7th October 2010, and my alarm is going off at 6am, to catch a 7.40am train to Liverpool with Lindsey, Lauren and Jen. We sat outside Waterstone’s for six hours on cushions and blanket’s we’d bought from Primark, reading magazines, eating copious amounts of sweets, and frantically exclaiming “But what will we SAY to him?!!?” at random intervals. It went quite quickly, actually.
At about quarter to 3 things started to get exciting. We were moving! There was about 30 people in front of us in the queue, and around 400 people behind us, so we felt rather lucky. At this point the four of us were very giddy and a bit delirious with excitement. Lindsey was squeezing my hand for moral support and Lauren literally ran through the store: “I can’t believe I just cantered through Waterstone’s!” The place was crawling with security, natch, but they were all lovely chaps. One even looked after my bag for me while I did the actual meeting, which was very sweet. When Russell walked in everyone just went off their faces; screaming, pushing, shoving. At only 4ft 11 a lot of this went over my head (ba dum dum chhhh) and I couldn’t see much, but it was a thrilling atmosphere nevertheless.
But pretty soon I got to the front of the queue. And I just stood there, staring at Russell Brand sat on the desk, looking at me with a whopping great big grin on his face and his arms out for a hug. “Now then now then!” he says while beckoning me over. It was like going to see Santa, expect about 5000 times better and on a more adult level. *Makes inappropriate joke about sacks. Deletes it* I walked over and he hugged me and I was a bit WTF RUSSELL BRAND JUST TOUCHED ME; then he started signing my book. As I say he was sat on the end of the desk and it felt like I was standing reeeeally close to him and I didn’t really know where to look but AT HIM. Like, inches from me. Again, WTF.
It was at this point I squeaked “I’m so happy to see you!”. Smooth Amy, smooth.
Russell: I’m happy to see you too! Thanks for waiting.
Me: It’s alright. I’m missing lectures for this.
AMY YOU DICK WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?!?!
Russell: What’re you in Uni for?! You won’t learn anything there, fuck it! You’ll get a better education from life!
Me: Haha…ha…
Ooo, maybe I should quit Uni...
Russell: You’re really gorgeous.
Now then. Now then indeed. I’m seriously not making that up; actual Russell Brand looked right into my very own eyes and actually said that to me. Don’t ask me why - I still don’t understand it myself. Perhaps he was taking the piss. Perhaps he felt sorry for me. Perhaps (okay... probably) he's said the same thing to 427,863 other girls. But bloody hell, it was the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.
Me: Tha… thank you!
Russell: That’s alright, it’s true.
Literally speechless. Gone. Soul has left body. Empty shell of a girl.
Russell handed my book to me and gave me another hug and kissed my cheek, and I was really conscious of his stubble all scratchy and lovely on my face. (I love stubble. Especially Russell stubble).
I took a step to leave but turned back as Russell started speaking. He looked right into my face again and said “See you soon, beautiful girl” and winked. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll take him up on that…
Later that day, I realised I'd forgotten to tell Russell I loved him, and was a bit gutted with myself. But then I opened my Booky Wook 2 and saw that he'd written in it "Amy <3 Russell". I think he got the picture... :-)
Favourite Russell Brand quotes
'We all have an essential self, but if you spend every day chopping up meat on a slab, and selling it by the pound, soon you’ll find you’ve become a butcher. And if you don’t want to become a butcher (and why would you?), you’re going to have to cut right through to the bare bones of your own character in the hope of finding out who you really are. Which bloody hurts.'
'For me happiness occurs arbitrarily: a moment of eye contact on a bus, where all at once you fall in love; or a frozen second in a park where it's enough that there are trees in the world.'
'No-one really feels self-confident deep down because it's an artificial idea. Really, people aren't that worried about what you're doing or what you're saying, so you can drift around the world relatively anonymously: you must not feel persecuted and examined. Liberate yourself from that idea that people are watching you.'
'Mum is the nucleus of my being and that’s really somewhere beyond analysis. She’s so far ensconced in my psyche, so deeply encoded, so profoundly ingrained in who I am, that while I’m not usually stuck for words on anything, I find it difficult to use words in this context. She’s just at my very core.’
(That’s exactly how I feel about my mum).
'Part of me is not really over it. There’s a little part of my brain that’s, ‘Russell, where are the opiates?’ - ‘I’m afraid we can’t have any more opiates.’ - ‘Why?’ - ‘You nearly killed me, didn’t you?’ - ‘That was just a joke!’'
'Even as a junkie I stayed true [to vegetarianism] - 'I shall have heroin, but I shan't have a hamburger.' What a sexy little paradox.'
'The only reason I hadn’t made a serious attempt to kill myself was because I just thought, “I’ve not done anything yet”.'
'I didn’t get invited to parties and the like on account of the ol’ oddness.'
'My life is just a series of embarrassing incidents, strung together by telling people about those embarrassing incidents.'
'Nothing is important, expect finding love within yourself and being all honourable and gracious and beautiful.'
'I wish you’d stop attacking me just for the crime of being myself!'
I continued in my admiration of Russell Brand - while my friends went through their Zac Efron stages, or whatever - throughout his career, which was probably not aimed at a rather virtuous 16 year old; presenting BBBM and the NME awards, Russell Brand on the Road, The Russell Brand Show, Russell Brand’s Ponderland (which I still adore - cannot watch the episode on ‘Childhood’ without laughing so much I literally stop breathing and thus panic). I went to see all his films at the cinema; St Trinians, where he played Flash Harry; then there was Forgetting Sarah Marshall; more recently Get Him To The Greek, which was bloody brilliant (in my strictly unbiased opinion). Then there’s his stand-up shows; Shame, Doing Life: Live, Scandalous: all hilarious, of course. Interviews, podcasts, TV appearances; been there, heard that, taped the other. Okay okay, I’m starting to sound like his Wikipedia page now. Moving on…
It’s only once you’ve read Booky Wook that you can really understand Russell Brand for the person that he is actually is, rather than his stage and media caricature; staggeringly intelligent, beautifully philosophical, sensitive, generous, thoughtful, and strong.
I’m not one to judge people for the person they have once been; your past builds towards the person you are to become, and as long as that person is kind and decent and loving, that’s all I’m interested in. People are quick to accuse others of changing for the worse, but few of us trust that people can change for the better.
We all know that Russell was an addict: heroin, alcohol, sex. Even Penguin biscuits at one point (particularly the blue wrappered variety). At it’s worst, his drug addiction got to the point where he was told he had two choices: quit it all, immediately; or continue, and be met with prison, a mental asylum, or death within the next 6 months. Simple as that.
And, well… he’s still here. (At least I hope he bloody is or I met some crazed impostor last week.) He tore himself from his loved ones, his home country, and the only life he’d ever known, to go to rehab in America where he went completely cold turkey. I don’t think any of us could comprehend the strength, bravery, and pain involved in that. He describes this period in detail in his book - never once looking for sympathy, or in a self-indulgent, pitying manner. Just with brutal honesty. Reading it was painful enough; living it is unimaginable. In December it’ll be 8 years since Russell turned his back on that drink and drug driven lifestyle, and he has never once looked back. My admiration and respect for him because of this is through the roof.
And it's not just because I think he's sexy as hell (which I do), or because I think he's a comedy genius (which I do), but I can identify with a lot of what Russell says. Obviously I’m a bit wishy washy on the whole sex-drugs-rock’n’roll aspect, but the deeper side - his thoughts on life and stuff - I’m totally there on that one. And believe it or not, I’m prone to the odd peculiar thought too.
So when I finished Russell’s Booky Wook I got it into my head that, if he wrote a second, I WOULD be going to his book signing. And I was going to meet him. I informed my best friend Lindsey of my plan, and she said she was well up for this. Lauren and Jen were also beyond keen to meet old Ruster Brand too. Excellent. Sorted.
But this was back in 2008. I just though it was one of those things you talk about, but never actually do. Like going to Pilates, or eating an avocado. Fast forward to Thursday 7th October 2010, and my alarm is going off at 6am, to catch a 7.40am train to Liverpool with Lindsey, Lauren and Jen. We sat outside Waterstone’s for six hours on cushions and blanket’s we’d bought from Primark, reading magazines, eating copious amounts of sweets, and frantically exclaiming “But what will we SAY to him?!!?” at random intervals. It went quite quickly, actually.
At about quarter to 3 things started to get exciting. We were moving! There was about 30 people in front of us in the queue, and around 400 people behind us, so we felt rather lucky. At this point the four of us were very giddy and a bit delirious with excitement. Lindsey was squeezing my hand for moral support and Lauren literally ran through the store: “I can’t believe I just cantered through Waterstone’s!” The place was crawling with security, natch, but they were all lovely chaps. One even looked after my bag for me while I did the actual meeting, which was very sweet. When Russell walked in everyone just went off their faces; screaming, pushing, shoving. At only 4ft 11 a lot of this went over my head (ba dum dum chhhh) and I couldn’t see much, but it was a thrilling atmosphere nevertheless.
But pretty soon I got to the front of the queue. And I just stood there, staring at Russell Brand sat on the desk, looking at me with a whopping great big grin on his face and his arms out for a hug. “Now then now then!” he says while beckoning me over. It was like going to see Santa, expect about 5000 times better and on a more adult level. *Makes inappropriate joke about sacks. Deletes it* I walked over and he hugged me and I was a bit WTF RUSSELL BRAND JUST TOUCHED ME; then he started signing my book. As I say he was sat on the end of the desk and it felt like I was standing reeeeally close to him and I didn’t really know where to look but AT HIM. Like, inches from me. Again, WTF.
It was at this point I squeaked “I’m so happy to see you!”. Smooth Amy, smooth.
Russell: I’m happy to see you too! Thanks for waiting.
Me: It’s alright. I’m missing lectures for this.
AMY YOU DICK WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?!?!
Russell: What’re you in Uni for?! You won’t learn anything there, fuck it! You’ll get a better education from life!
Me: Haha…ha…
Ooo, maybe I should quit Uni...
Russell: You’re really gorgeous.
Now then. Now then indeed. I’m seriously not making that up; actual Russell Brand looked right into my very own eyes and actually said that to me. Don’t ask me why - I still don’t understand it myself. Perhaps he was taking the piss. Perhaps he felt sorry for me. Perhaps (okay... probably) he's said the same thing to 427,863 other girls. But bloody hell, it was the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.
Me: Tha… thank you!
Russell: That’s alright, it’s true.
Literally speechless. Gone. Soul has left body. Empty shell of a girl.
Russell handed my book to me and gave me another hug and kissed my cheek, and I was really conscious of his stubble all scratchy and lovely on my face. (I love stubble. Especially Russell stubble).
I took a step to leave but turned back as Russell started speaking. He looked right into my face again and said “See you soon, beautiful girl” and winked. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll take him up on that…
Later that day, I realised I'd forgotten to tell Russell I loved him, and was a bit gutted with myself. But then I opened my Booky Wook 2 and saw that he'd written in it "Amy <3 Russell". I think he got the picture... :-)
Favourite Russell Brand quotes
'We all have an essential self, but if you spend every day chopping up meat on a slab, and selling it by the pound, soon you’ll find you’ve become a butcher. And if you don’t want to become a butcher (and why would you?), you’re going to have to cut right through to the bare bones of your own character in the hope of finding out who you really are. Which bloody hurts.'
'For me happiness occurs arbitrarily: a moment of eye contact on a bus, where all at once you fall in love; or a frozen second in a park where it's enough that there are trees in the world.'
'No-one really feels self-confident deep down because it's an artificial idea. Really, people aren't that worried about what you're doing or what you're saying, so you can drift around the world relatively anonymously: you must not feel persecuted and examined. Liberate yourself from that idea that people are watching you.'
'Mum is the nucleus of my being and that’s really somewhere beyond analysis. She’s so far ensconced in my psyche, so deeply encoded, so profoundly ingrained in who I am, that while I’m not usually stuck for words on anything, I find it difficult to use words in this context. She’s just at my very core.’
(That’s exactly how I feel about my mum).
'Part of me is not really over it. There’s a little part of my brain that’s, ‘Russell, where are the opiates?’ - ‘I’m afraid we can’t have any more opiates.’ - ‘Why?’ - ‘You nearly killed me, didn’t you?’ - ‘That was just a joke!’'
'Even as a junkie I stayed true [to vegetarianism] - 'I shall have heroin, but I shan't have a hamburger.' What a sexy little paradox.'
'The only reason I hadn’t made a serious attempt to kill myself was because I just thought, “I’ve not done anything yet”.'
'I didn’t get invited to parties and the like on account of the ol’ oddness.'
'My life is just a series of embarrassing incidents, strung together by telling people about those embarrassing incidents.'
'Nothing is important, expect finding love within yourself and being all honourable and gracious and beautiful.'
'I wish you’d stop attacking me just for the crime of being myself!'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)