You know how we do.

'Sometimes when you think lifes going all swimmingly, it will jump right up and kick you in the teeth. Its times like these you realise how much you need your friends.'
- Joanna Murphy

I've had a really good Christmas. Its been perfectly balanced. With the usual trips to varius houses of the family that i havent seen for years and days shopping with my nearest and dearest. One trip in particular resulted in me and Delphine, Aka Sophie Pix to the power of 6, trecking around the Christmas crowds with number extra large gift bags. We simply couldnt control ourselves when we looked at eachother; piled up high with huge bags filled with clothes and festive items.
That was before the long anticipated 25th day of the 12th month. Since then, i have done nothing but lie in bed all day - Lost series 3 box set playing atmospherically in the background and my brand new laptop on, well, my lap. My days spent like that and my nights spent out, being social.. meeting new people and going to new places having new types of fun in new situations. Reminds me of a classis Yellowcard song which i will do the honor of quoting; Sleeping all day staying up all night. That sums it up really..
But dont get me wrong here, the old faithful traditions and people have remained, i have much enjoyed paying visits to old friends and taking advantage of the human instinct to offer left over Christmas food to anything with a heart beat. But at this time of year, for the first time in a long while, i have made the most of being in demand.
The one and only downfall of Jesus' Birthday this year is the abcense of the infamous Delphine, it seems the Scottish folk up in the highlands had the pleasure of her company this year.





I am going to blog more often now. I have no reason not to as i am not as popular as i would perhaps like to be. But..
Thats all for now. Partially because i have momentarily been informed i am to attend a 21st birthday bash in approx ten minutes and as i have previously mentioned.. my days have been little cause to get dressed. If you excuse me, i am dissmissing myself to the bathroom to try to make myself look somewhat presentable..

A New Enemy

I woke up this morning fifteen minutes before my alarm. It was set to go off at 8.45, that way i had time to wash my hair, get ready and still have time to tidy up after the three teenage girls i had strewn in merciless positions across my conservatory sofa.

If i woke up a whole quarter of an hour earlier than i needed to, why on school mornings do i crave that extra ten minutes in bed?
Why in the winter months do i crave the summer holidays, if as soon as it gets hot i start getting ridiculously excited for Christmas?
Why do i continually allow myself to become distracted, then stress about being late and not organised enough?

I decided something.
I have decided that there is truth in the phrase 'You are your own worst enemy.'
I figured that everything that i am as a person, is completely unique to me.
If i met someone who had the same personality and habbits as me, i would absolutely despise them.
Dont worry, i'm not starting with the i hate my life act. Because i dont. And i'm not going to tell you that i hate myself, because i most certainly do not. I'm simply saying that due to the fact you are constantly in contact with yourself and your somewhat irreplaceable ways, you grow to dislike the way you do things.
That isnt a bad thing, yet, i dont think it is good either.
Its a fact of life.
We annoy ourselves because each characteristic we own is personal and distinctive, causing others to either like it or dislike it. If you live with something for too long you become bored. Therefore as human beings, one of the only species in existance that physically and mentally requires change as an essential part of development, we generally start to become our own worst enemies, purely because we are stuck with ourselves, something we cannot escape or change.

J'adore le dentifrice... et Delphie De Croissant.

I encounter a problem alot, as i am actually not very good with words.
I am useless at talking about how i feel.
Confrontation isnt one of my strongest points.
Yet, give me a keyboard or a pen and paper and i'm yours.
I am so much better writing than i am talking, and by that i dont mean that i'm quiet and shy because i swear i'm not.
I just dont think when i speak; whereas when i write, things make more sense and i can be more myself.

Its an awful feeling when you cant find the words for something.
When you need to tell someone and it just wont come out.
You know you should say it, because you feel it so strongly that the whole world should know.. yet you just cant put it into words.
I hate that.
I hate it when there is so much to say, yet so little time and so few ways of actually doing it justice.
I sometimes get scared that some of the most important things happen only in my head - rather than out loud or on paper.
But when you feel something so strongly, sometimes the best way to treasure it is with yourself.
Otherwise, it will become so commonly read and so predicatively cliché that it will lose all meaning and importance to you, and everyone else.

The best feeling is the one that you physically cant express.
Its one that you, as a human being, understand once.
The emotion of not being able to ever do the feeling justice. You just wait until everyone else feels it, just so you know that they may understand.
The person you need to tell about this indescribable feeling knows.
Its so strong that you have given up all hope of ever finding words or actions to portray it, but you have accepted that you cant.
Its comfort enough to know that the person you feel it about, the person that needs to know, does.
Because they feel it to.
You are safe in the knowledge that they understand; that they dont need you to try and explain, because they know.


I dont think i've made much sense.
Unless you know what i'm talking about.
In which case, thankyou.

The Knights of the Island Counter

Every face i see is inspiration.
Every word i speak sparks conversation.
Every step i take is one less step back.
Every white i paint is one less black.
Every friend i make is one i treasure.
Every whole i add is minus a half measure.
Every lie i tell is one less fact.
Every story i hear has an impact.
Every gift i'm given is one i keep.
Every smile i break is one less tear i'll weap.
Every back i pat is a job well done.
Every race i lose is one a friend has won.
Every note i sing is a a melody we loved most.
Every laugh we share is moment lost.
Every second i waste is one i'll never get again.
Every thought of a sun beam makes me brave the rain.
Every song we sing is a tuneless melody.
Every new person i meet is serendipity.
Every test i fail is a lesson i've learnt.
Every game with fire is a time i've been burnt.
Every drum beat i've felt is a clumsy dance.
Every mistake i make shows my innocence.
Every glance at my family, i'm proud i share blood.
Every day with my friends, i'm proud to share love.
Every cocoon that is built is a place to hide.
Every chance to break out, we become butterflies.

"The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that suits all cases."

I have a pair of gold shoes.
They're cheap looking and quite overly priced.
I payed about 15 fine English pounds for them from Liverpool, St. Johns Market.
They have high heels, that aren't that high.
I've walked in higher.
The gold is so fake. Purely painted with a fine hint of imitation leather.
If they are meant to look real and expensive, I'm afraid they are failing.
I tried so many shoes on that day.
Pair after pair of faintly bearable shoes. Occasionally finding a pair that were so aesthetically pleasing that i was tempted into trying them on, in numerous sizes, before deciding i didn't actually like them that much.
There was a beautiful pair in a little shop that were truthfully perfect. They didn't have my size.
There was a pair that had little gold bows on the side that were so ugly i wanted to put them in their box and never punish anyone with ever again. In my desperation i tried them on and decided they were not all that bad after all.
I got the impression that i annoyed my fellow shoppers. I could tell they were sick of visiting the same shops over and over again whilst i 'just had another look..', they were just too polite to say anything.
Two - trillion tacky market stalls later, and up to my ankles in gold heels, i retreated to a rather smelly little hot-spot. The walls were lined with boots and flats and sandals and stilettos.
I set my eyes on a pair of perfectly gold heels that seemed no different to any of the shoes I'd tried on.
The girls, now more bored and restless than ever, told me that i might as well try them on.
So i did.
And i am pleased to inform you, i bought them.
I have a pair of tackily informal gold high heels that are a sickeningly fake shade of the most glamorous colour known to humanity.
They wernt perfect.
To be quite honest, i didn't like them that much.
I didn't try them on and suddenly lose my breath.
The world didn't stop.
My heart didn't sink and my eyes most certainly did not water.
But the little pair of shoes held a whole different kind of magic for me.

I stood waiting for my size, took off my boots, slipped into the new shoes and stood up; trying to get my balance on the uneven heels.
I looked over to the ripped puffets in the center of the stall where my friends were sat.
They were tired, hungry, sore, annoyed, stressed, bored and restless.
But there they sat, in all their imperfection-filled glory.
Entertainingly perched two-to-a-seat, laughing amongst themselves and nosily spying what shoes the woman across the way was trying on.
One of them looked over to me, noticing i was stood motionless.
"They're nice." She said, "They would go with your tights. Especially if you put a ribbon around the seem of your dress."
I smiled.
I wasn't all that keen on the shoes.
But the memory i had made in them already was one i never wanted to lose.
They werent the nicest, prettiest or most figure-complimenting pair of shoes I'd ever tried on. Perhaps they werent even as nice as the long forgotten side-bowed pair from many, many shops ago.
But i bought them.
Knowing full well every time i put on that pair of shoes, i would think of the day i dragged the most influential people in my life around all day. Against their will they were forced to spend the day wandering aimlessly around hot, stuffy shops in order to find something that wouldn't benefit them in anyway.
They didn't moan or complain.
They didn't even shout at me when i said we couldn't get any dinner until i had tried a few more shops.
Each and every time i put on my scuffed up, gloriously infamous gold heels; i get mixed feelings of guilt, appreciation and happiness.
Guilt - Purely because i don't give my loyal followers enough credit. No force in the world will ever let them know how much i undervalue them.
Appreciation - That i have them. That i have my shoes. That i had that enlightening moment in the least likely place imaginable.
And happiness - Knowing that i have people who are more than willing to put up with things to make me happy is something that will make me smile before i go to sleep. I don't mean that i enjoy being in charge, because i dont and I'm not. I mean in the sense that its what we do. As friends, you put up with the shittiness in order to reach the ultimate highs (may it be buying shoes, laughing until you cry or alternatively crying until you laugh.)
I know that no matter what happens. I have people who love me, no matter how selfish and inconsiderate i may be.
This is my promise; though pointless and insignificant it might be to you.
When i wear gold shoes. I am thinking about how much they mean to me.
I'm thinking about how lucky i am.
And I'm wearing them in memory of the hideously amazing days that Ive spent shopping with my girls.
Shoes are shoes.
But friends are so much more than a word.
Friendship is like the unmistakable feeling when you find the right pair of shoes.
Its fresh, new, and perfect. You suddenly lose your breath.
The world stops.
Your heart sinks and your eyes water.
And you can just tell that its important.

My pretty gold shoes.
Made me grateful for my even prettier gold friends.

Ok, i've been putting this off for too long.

Dear Victoria Murphy,
This is your conscience. No, dont get excited. To be quite honest, your conscience is a pretty empty place to be. But that is no-ones fault other than your own. We havent spoken for a while.. You've been off, galavanting around doing God knows what with God knows who. How do i know? Because i've been working overtime. You may have been busy, but boy have you made sure that youve given me enough stuff to deal with.
As you start writing your first ever blog (not including the 'test-run' many moons ago), i think it is important you think this through. I mean this in the sense that i dont want you to over think it. Because, lets face it, we both know you are extremely good at that, and it doesnt take much for your morals and i to start arguing over who gets their own way. However to be awfully frank, this blog is to please no-one other than yourself (and maybe, to some hidden degree, Matt 'the legend that is' Wood.) So overall, dont start asking yourself stupid questions like 'What am i trying to acheive from this blog?' and 'What will people think if i write this.' Just stop it. Stop it before you get worked up and stressed over nothing but a silly little peice of writing on a silly little website. DONT look too much into it - be your normal self, which in most cases is actually as abnormal as it can get. But at the grand age of 15, youre obviously not doing too bad for yourself...
Perhaps, blogging will do you good. Maybe it will take the pressure off two things..
A) Your bedroom drawers. That are now full to the brim of useless pieces of paper and swatches of long forgotten heaps of words that you have written, reviewed, disliked and neglected. Now they are hanging around like those flies, the ones that nomatter how much you swat and flap about, you never quite have the heart to actually kill off.
B) Your Mother Dearest. Alright, alright. So blogging might not take pressure off your darling mum directly, but it is a well known fact that the tidiness of your, somewhat costly, bedroom suite is being shamefully tested by your apparent lack of ability to actually throw anything away.
So i would like to take this oppertunity to congratulate you on stepping into the 21st century. You, all by yourself, have successfully managed to work a website that isnt Myspace or Club Penguin.. and even that was only with the assistance of your sister (who is four years your junior..) So, here starts your blog. A deep and meaningful insight into the complexity of your mind. A mind, in which despite the numerous crimes and gramatical mistakes that happen on a momentary basis, is somewhat understated. It is previously uncharted teritory and no doubt that as we progress further into it, the world will be shocked as to what we discover. Because you are abit of a drama queen eh? Come on, i know an over-active imagination when i see one but yours takes the biscuit. I mean come on, you're pretty much a nut job. Doesnt take me to tell you that surely. You knew that already, right?

Love,
Your Faithful Conscience.


P.s. Ok, Ok. So it wasnt you that set this up. To quote myself, 'You, all by yourself, have successfully managed to work a website..'. Now, i dont want you walking around with that on your shoulders, because I for one know that you had pretty much NOTHING to do with this here 'blogspot'. Credit to THE Matt Wood, of course. I guess i shouldnt have given you the praise, i guess as your conscience i am just making work for myself... But isnt that what we do? To quote Jiminy Cricket.. 'Let your conscience be your guide...'