Of Misleading Sandwiches and pointless musings

The thing about tomato and cheese sandwiches is they're misleading.
Take two pieces of averge brown bread, four slices of tomatoe and three large pieces of cheese and you have your normal, innocuous sandwich. Except its not.
It appears to be nice, the bright yellow cheese harmonizing with the lively red tomato, setting of the pale chocolate coloured bread perfectly.
It might even smell nice, fresh, healthy.
And you'll think to yourself, 'I know! I'll have a nice tomato and cheese sandwich, just what I feel like!'
But after the first bite, you will see what a grave mistake you have made.
For these sandwiches are like bananas, one becomes sick of the taste ludicrously fast. And then you find yourself confronted by a large amount of sandwich that just doesn't want to be eaten.
And it's going to sit there staring at you until you either eat it or go sandwichless.
Me? I couldn't face the damn thing and it's still sitting on my desk, cackling at my torment.

That, my friends, is why Tomato and Cheese sandwiches are evil.


..And It's at times like these that I wonder what an earth I'm doing with my life.

Bus Stops

Bus stops tell you a lot about a person.
Now me, being an average teenager, without a car or licence (due more to lazyness than anything else) spent a large part of my days on buses, which also means a lot of time spent waiting at the bus stop.
Take today for example, after my math exam (which I wish never to hear mentioned again) I had to wait an hour for my bus.
And when you're bored, and your ipod has run out of battery, you start observing things. people.
And if you look at the people waiting at the bus stop, you notice things.
How people sit.
The confident ones come loping along and fairly sprawl themselves down on the seat, at the centre, legs out in front of them, casually bopping along to their music, talking on the phone, whatever. They're the confident ones. They aren't afraid to take up space, to be noticed, to be in the centre of everything.
Then there's the ones who sit with their legs crossed, or planted firmly on the ground, they sit more to one side of the seat, glancing up every once in a while to see if the bus is coming, check their watches, flick someone a text. They're just the average person, not loud, not quiet, would probably talk to you given half a chance, but it's unlikely they'l plonk themselves down and start up a conversation like the people who sit in the middle.
Then there's the sideliners.
They sit in the corner, on the fringes, watching people, saying nothing. They'll read a book, do some homework, check their phones, but mostly watch.
They sit as far to the side of the seats as they can, taking up as little space as possable. They don't grin at passerbys like some would. They don't sigh loudly when the bus is late, or get up for a wander when they've been sitting too long.
They stay silent and still.
They are isolated from everyone else, perhaps isolated from society. They're shy and quiet, hard to get through to, but when you do, it's usually rewarding.

I have to wonder sometimes, as I observe the unsuspecting people, is anyone watching me? Prejudging me, analysing me, seeing me.

Or am alone in a world full of people

Addiction

Ginger Beer is addictive.
No really, it is.
Ok solid hard, concrete proof. When I was little, I hated that stuff. It was bitter and bubbly and burnt my throat and people called it root beer. It was, for lack of a better word, disgusting.
Then, I re-tried it a few years ago; it wasn't an instant love, it was just ok. But as it is with all addictions, I found myself loving it more and more.
And now I'm addicted. I guess I should be glad it's not drugs or alcohol I'm addicted to. But really, Ginger Beer?
It's just so gooooooood...*takes gulp of Ginger Beer* its ok i've only had two today..
It's like shopping, or watching Lord of the Rings..(uh forget I ever said that one)
You know the worst thing?
I get Ginger Beer cravings.

GINGER BEER CRAVINGS!

I ask you.

You know there's something wrong with your life when you get cravings for Ginger Beer.

GINGER BEER GODDAMNIT.

Guy Fawkes

Remember remember, the 5th of November
I went to a fireworks show last night with some mates. The music was average, the fireworks fairly good. It was also Halloween which means we saw loads of amazing costumes and decorations everywhere; even a guy who dressed up like the Joker off the Batman, his makeup was perfect-it was amazing.
However that is not why I found last night so memoriable. It was because it was in celebration of the 5th of November. Of Guy Fawkes.
The gunpowder treason and plot..
of how a man tried to blow up parliment and died for it. I never quite worked out why we so enthusasticly celebrated the death of said man, or the survival of King James I. We do not celebrate the death of Hitler for example, or any other man who has commited crimes againt humanity, but we celebrate the death of an idealist, a freedom fighter, a man who fought for what he believed in. To this day, we burn effigies of him, as if to mock him. He has become a hated figure, and few people stop to think why he even tried to blow up parliment.
The king and his train had like to be slain..
I do not celebrate Guy Fawkes for a celebration of a man who was executed, but in rememberance, of the man behind the event, who believed in freedom, and revolution, and was willing to die for it.
And somehow when I was watching the whole sky light up in a shower of fading gold, when I heard the the cracks from the fireworks which sounded so much like gunshots, I found myself seeing not a park full of people by the sea, not an empty sky on an overcast night, but misty streets and the crack of guns as revolutionaries fell in their hundreds, the cobblestones red with blood. I saw fighting in the streets, and fear in the tunnels, I saw a man.
I saw the 5th of November, 1605.
And I hope it will ne'er be forgot.