Friday, 23 March 2012


So it occurred to me today that it seems rather ironic that I dared to call this (blog?) Word Collector. while failing to provide it with words to....collect. After much consideration of this shameful double standard (The Gillard Government should hire me.) I collated my thoughts and established the following options.

1. Change the name of the blog to something that in no way implied me to write on it.
    ....Then I realised that even I, the master of illogical logic, couldn't justify writing a blog that didn't need me to    
    write on it. Scrap Option One.

2. Write on the blog.
    ....I saw potential. I was going to go with this but then my mind conjured up  -

3. Get the leprechauns to write for me.
    ....why didn't I think of that earlier?

So I've had a chat to them and they'll be ready to work from next week onwards for the meagre price of one pot of gold and potato famine insurance. I almost feel like I'm taking advantage of the poor things.

ANYWAY! Now that I'm here, I'll try not to codify my hallucinogenic rants. If I'm going to bother to write anything I should really try and make it comprehendable. Or not. I have a feeling that if anyone reads this, it's not going to be for my serious take on contemporary politcal issues. So we may all have to embrace my love for the ridiculous. On that note, here, have a picture :

Sigh. I don't even like Dan-Rad, but he IS Harry Potter.
And I'm not gonna lie. This picture is smokin'.

...You're right. I'll just stick to writing. I'll leave the jokes for the unfortunate people who made friends with me.

Tonight I went on a bit of a tumblr rampage. I'm having a bit of a thing for James Dean - esque guys atm, so anyone who has a bike just went up about 50 points in my eyes. BOYS, GET YOUR LICENSE. Yes, I know, yet another double standard - I'm almost 17 and in all those years I still haven't rounded up the effort to sit my L's. However its not like i need them - i walk to the kitchen, not drive.

GAHHHH I HAVE THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL SOUNDTRACK STUCK IN MY HEAD. It's one loud, strange cacophony of cross-dressing men and wenches singing about the French Revolution and falcons in dives, while in the background, "I hear he cracks the longest whip." This is surely the first step towards insanity. Maybe that was a while back though, like when I employed the leprechauns. Yep, that was definitely it.

I'm going to leave you now with two treats, one definitely more merry than the other.

Firstly, this, because I enjoy it and it's uplifting :

And secondly this, because I felt like writing properly for the first time in about a month ( rusty and depressed, but hey it's a start) :

Emotional Baggage ( literally interpreted for your convenience. Idiot) 

Bloated brown leather with a handle on top
Four corners make a mindful suitcase
Flung open, filled in, falling with a flop
It ques with the line of things I can’t face.

The handle is worn, grip marks show clear
So. So heavy without the heave of will
The burden behind growing with every year
How long till it snaps? Till the contents spill?

Yet the metal clasps remain firm to latch
A saviour of the whole damned mess
Always holding tight what my mind can’t catch
My packing lies safe ; my mouth won’t guess

But just as I’m packed and ready to go
Comes a moment of passive fustration
I throw it all down, rip it open and lo –
See my meaningless ministrations

What’s the worth of my plans and my schemeing
If it thieves the place of hopeful dreaming?


1 comment:

  1. Enough with the irony, get back to ironing woman.

    lol jk...