Who Is Toby?

Wednesday, 28 March 2012

  • Oh, the irony.

    I've got a part in a musical. 'West Side Story', to be exact. Anybodys, to be even more exact. I had auditioned for Anita, but methinks that the casters casting was better than my own. Anybodys is much more suitable than Anita for me. Well done, sir. 

    This is just a gap between essays. I have written one, and am about to start another. How long ago it seems since I last wrote a whole essay... Well, it has been a while. 3 weeks maybe? Something like that. It's been really bad. College has been a waste of time. Or has it? 

    Because I didn't get the place in the university I had been wanting. But then, I decided that I didn't really want to go to university anyway, and that I would work and wait till I get married, because it's all very practical and good. But then I got an offer from a better university, which was entirely unexpected. It shocked me a little, to be frank. And now the thoughts about next year have to be revised, re-thought through and gone over once more. Because should I go? Should I stay? Should I write a Clash song? It's all very confusing. 

    However, one thing is certain. 

    I really want to get married and have babies. Sigh. 

Wednesday, 26 October 2011

  • A history of holes.

    Oh, don't you just love it when you 'discover' a band's music which you quickly become addicted to? And tell everyone else to listen to them, even if their musical tastes are entirely different to yours. I have a habit of doing so, it seems to happen to most people, only recently it hadn't been happening much. It made a pleasant change to my humdrum life. Nine Horses are offically awesome and I love them. So there.

    Funkadelic funkadelia.

    And what is it right now with my relunctance to receive any treatment from the healthcare services? I have major toothache and pain in my mouth, and have run out of medication for my low mood, but cannot be arsed to actually book myself an appointment to see either the doctor or the dentist. It's too much hassle at the moment. There's so much else that's going on, stress and all that kind of thing really takes away any kind of desire to deal with that stuff. Sigh.

    So much for promising my parents that I would take care of myself once they left for Istanbul. :/

    OK! I promise to make an appointment for both the doctor and the dentist once I get back down to Oxford. One must take care of oneself, one supposes. What does one have if one doesn't have ones health? Nothing at all. And as good old King Lear said so accurately, nothing will come of nothing. So, care will be taken with me, where ever I go.

    And another thing, why do my posts seem to be so disjointed and infrequent? Time is of the essence, but time is not abundant at the moment for me. A Levels take most of it, friends, family and bell ringing takes up the rest of it. Not to mention sleeping. However, I haven't actually slept for over 24 hours now. Let me think. I woke up at around 8 o'clock in the morning on the 25th of October, and haven't slept since then. So let me count.

    27 hours. Or there abouts anywho. Hah! Well, I'm at my sister's house in Edinburgh, she and her friends are at this moment sitting on the place where my bed is apparently. I don't mind though, methinks I've reached that stage where one is too tired to sleep, and on the way to being majorly hyper. Having chocolate and Coca Cola probably doesn't help too much either, to be honest. I tried to have a nap earlier today, but really couldn't get any sleep, it was weird. Sleeping in the daylight doesn't come naturally to me.

    Without any further ado, I go. Till next time, be cool and keep the monkeys hot.

    D.

Thursday, 28 July 2011

  • Your Face.

    Today, an alarming amount of time was spent insulting my younger sister. For those socially concerned individuals out there, it was entirely in jest, and I made sure that she knew how amazing and gorgeous and wonderful I think she really is. Besides, we ended up have a shouting match in the middle of the street, so all was definitely well in the Family Everett´s Younger Siblings day. She finds it amusing that I acknowledge rather than resent her insults, by the bye.

    My brother and his new bride are exceptionally cute, they´ve received all their wedding gifts in their newly rented house, and are busily setting about furnishing it and making it habitable. Eg, getting broadband installed.

    Speaking of new homes, I wonder when I´ll get to have a look-see at my new pad... Hopefully it should be soon. How I detest being an ¨adult¨... It´s so tedious.

    Anywho, I shall watch a documentary about Harry Nilsson now and leave everyone in peace.

    ^^

Wednesday, 20 April 2011

  • Take that dodo and stuff it.

    Why is it that I find myself relating to a character who is an ex-prostitute? That's not the only one, there's another who basically lives my life every time you press play on the machine on top of the blabber-box, who is a dance hall hostess. Is that not disturbing, I ask myself, to liken myself and my experiences so far on this Journey of Life to women of disreputable characters and natures?

    Maybe not.

    I think my boyfriend would think differently.

    Of course, who knows what he's on about, I am no different from any common street wanderer. I have no more dignity, no more respectibility than others who work for a living. Do other people feel this way as well? That's something I've just begun to think about; am I the only person who truly, truly believes that I am not worth loving, caring for, or anything else of the sort? People have said that I am not even worth being alive.

    Why not agree?

    NB. The dodo thing is about the stuffed toys we happen to sell at the moment in the shop where my mother and I work, the University of Oxford shop. But no advertisment here, please.

Monday, 11 April 2011

  • Daisy Chain

    

    Common flowers gathered

    together to make something utterly childish;

    A line, a chain. A break in time...

    Time for a break?

     

    Maybe,

     

    maybe not. He loves me.

    He loves me not he loves me.

    Anyway... the flowers I chose, the daisies

    on the side of the road, were small,

    with long stalks. The petals were mangled and bent,

    but new, soft with morning's dew.

     

    I felt the sun on my back as I sat,

    cross-legged on the grass.

    Working hard at my task, the wind ruffling

    through the leaves of the tree.

     

    It hurts to make daisy chains when you have no nails.

    Thin stems and chapped nail varnish

    mix and match. Bitten and chewed down to the tip,

    the finger tip; reminders of stressful nights,

    of tossing and turning, giving no warning and then,

    Boom.

     

    Like a thief in the night: morning.

     

    So in the end, the chain that I wear

    around my neck takes the times that I swore

    I'd never drink again and makes them

    all distant memories. Grains of sand,

    like daisies on the side of the road;

    Soldiers, one and all, waiting for the picker's hand.

     

     

     

     

     

    

Sunday, 27 February 2011

  • Just Stop it.

    Seriously, enough is enough.

    First you ask me to tell you the truth, so I do, you say then that you trust me unconditionally and have forgiven me. And then you plot for me to leave the country and get another life whilst I am happy in my own little naive world, thinking that I'm going away to better myself for my return to be with you.

    I leave, as planned, and you don't even have the guts to come to the airport to see me off. I'm sat on the plane, writing away to you, on the bus back to Oxford, scribbling away, even though it makes me sick to even think about it all. I can barely see anything through my tears, and yet I still write, confessing my love for you again and again.

    Once I reach the destination, the Parents' House, I check my emails and see you have sent one. Thinking that it will be pleasant to hear from my loved one, I cheerfully open it and start reading. My face falls and I tremble with disbelief as I read how you had never forgiven me and hated me, you hoped I never came across you again and that I would just continue in my way and stay well away from you.

    The shock sets in and Mum comes into the room, finds me bawling my eyes out and asks what's wrong. Between sobs I am able to tell her what you have written me. All she can do is hold me as I shake and cry soundlessly.

    After that I lose all sense of humanity. I know it sounds ridiculous, but let me put it this way; other people had to come and tell me to eat several times before I would even hear them. I would sit on the sofa for hours staring at nothing. All I wanted to do was sleep, yet when night came I couldn't bare to face my dreams of you and didn't sleep. All motivation left me, no guitar even looked playable to me. Chores were done with mechanical acceptance, not unwilling grumbles.

    Then the pieces slowly started to fall into place, I got a job, a place in college and some friends. It started to look up. Christmas happened and Joy came down from Scotland for two weeks, which was incredible.

    It was a Monday and I was sitting in the Tutorial lesson with my chums, whilst they were attentively watching the documentary about ecstasy, I was busy checking my email. Something I never expected, an email from you. Now, Dad told me to never read anything I received from you, but to delete it as soon as I saw who it was from. For some strange reason I couldn't this time.

    As I read your unfocused ramblings, the tears rolled down my face yet again, but this time for another reason. You said you couldn't do it without me, that everything was dull and meaningless without me. You even went to the length of telling me about your half-drunk bottle of wine that you were saving for me.

    This changed things quite a bit. After several months of actually being able to have a decent night's sleep, suddenly I was thrown into the abyss of sleepless nights. And at one of the worst times possible for me, exam time.

    You were intent on speaking to me, over Skype or Facebook, whatever it was you would try and find me. Speaking words that you know would touch me, make me feel sorry for you, make the feelings I still have for you come back into flame...

    Then another day, another email. You hate me again. I don't know why, when or how... But to be honest, I'm not too sure that I care. Anyone who acts as manic-depressive as you should not be given access to an internet connection.

    Just leave me the fuck alone!

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

  • "Duffy is entirely hostile to men in 'The World's Wife'." Discuss.

    In the compilation of poems named 'The World's Wife' by Carol Ann Duffy, many of the poems have been labelled as 'anti-men'. This statement is formed from a misconception of her writings, firstly, what does 'hostile' actually mean? One definition of the word could be angry, or full of rage concentrated on a specific individual or group of people. By this definition, it is easy to see that she is not necessarily hostile towards men in 'The World's Wife'. The title statement is crudely stereotypical and simplistic. Poetry is not as simple as most people would think, there are many layers to annotate and unwrap meaning from.

    There are three very different tones set in three of the poems, 'Queen Herod', 'Thetis' and 'Anne Hathaway' which deserve a closer look at to decide whether or not Duffy actually is hostile to men in the book. The language used, form, tones and register are all useful aspects to look at to understand and get a grasp of what Duffy most likely is wanting to portray in her poetry.

    Starting with 'Queen Herod', looking at the main characters and the way they are discribed, for example the women in the poem are "courteous, confident", and are described "like gods", whereas the male characters, such as Herod, are not portrayed in such a stately manner. "Drunken Herod" is a "fusty bulk" of a man whom the queen happens to be with.

    Another aspect of the hostility towards men is the attitude the Queens have concerning boys and men. The Queens warn Queen Herod to "watch for a star in the east" which will bring a man who will take her daughter away from her, "to take her name away". In response to this, she sends for the chief of staff and orders him to kill "each mother's son" and to not spare any one from this fate.

     

    Unfortunately I have got college in the morning and must sleep... Otherwise I won't be able to get up at 6 like I'm supposed to. :/ Ah well. Finish it another time.

     

     

Sunday, 13 February 2011

  • This afternoon something really weird but cool happened to me. I finally figured out what I needed to do all along. Let's just hope that I can stick to it, eh?

    On another note, the weather is cold, wet and miserable, but something is keeping my spirits raised. The thought of college tomorrow actually inspires me, rather than depresses me. I've decided that maybe Mondays aren't so bad after all. It's just a misconception, favoured by people who like weekends too much. Not like me. Hah.

    Goodness, that was quick... I am poggling around with Itunes, importing CDs and whatnot. My Ipod is going to be the best Ipod ever. So there. Although I only have 4 GBs, those GBs shall be occupied by some pretty darn good music. In my opinion anyway.

    By the bye, here is a definition of "poggling":

    To poggle: To poggle is to play or muck about with something without seeming to have a particular purpose. Children are especially good at poggling.

    See? Good word. It's also my younger sister's given name. Well, no. It isn't, but that's what we call her. The Pogg.

     

    End.

Tuesday, 25 January 2011

  • Because.

    I've finally got a laptop. Pretty sweet, eh? Ok, sure, it's my older sister's old one and is absofruitly tiny, but still. It is what it is, and I appreciate it. Although the printer upstairs isn't working and I need the letter about my income support printed off, but what are fathers for anyway?

    I'm listening to all these Beatles songs that I never heard before, mainly because they aren't the really famous ones that everyone knows. They're good.

    Tune the bottom E string down to a D and play around. It's fun...

Tuesday, 30 November 2010

  • Take That

    Wowzer...

    In the house, no, on the wall. Up the stairs, on the roof. The cat jumps over the spoon, the man just slyly remarked how cold the weather was getting.

    "It is snowing, you know."

    Not everyone agrees with him. For example, in the little city of Oxford, only a few millimetres of snow has fallen in the past couple of days. This seems rather unfair, compared to the rest of the UK. One shall always feel the strain of wearing fingerless gloves whilst playing the ukulele. Otherwise where is the knowledge of the past? It is all inscrutable.

    The question is, do walruses really think about insurance or not? Because many people would beg to differ. The daisies, for example. No one ever asks them how they feel, or what makes the world go round for them. Maybe that is because the answer would be nothing, just silence, because daisies can't talk, and as far as we know, can't think either. Do daisies have souls? Ask them.

    Hum. That's the sound of the empty chambers of my mind firing on all cylinders. Not a very loud noise, as you can tell.

    To be enough, that's all I ask to be.

who_is_toby

  • Visit who_is_toby's Xanga Site
    • Name: damaris
    • Gender: Female
    • Member Since: 7/30/2006

About Me

  • troublesome child.

Pulse