Marina Zettl – 13th October, 12-2pm
“I don’t like Jazz, reminds me of a man caterwauling when I was sixteen. But I liked that.”
Sitting in Penny Street Bridge, it’s hard to see what the big deal is about the venue or the band. Twenty minutes until they are due on stage and the room is almost empty. Marina and her band are running late; it only turned out to be an hour an twelve minutes which is an eternity for impatient types such as myself. However their epic tale to get to Lancaster started with a late taxi which had made them late for everything else. Enticed by free samples of two ales – Tavern Porter and Old Dan – it was clear to see why some of the customers chose to stay as they didn’t fit the elegant look of the venue. The venue has a slight air of someone wearing a designer gown with flip flops hidden underneath. Once you saw past the elegance of Penny Street Bridge you saw the ‘flip flops’ – the bits that didn’t fit in such as the tattooed metal fan who was tapping away on drums as he set them up and ruining the calm atmosphere, or the visible vent in the ceiling.
The interaction of band to audience is that between friends, in each member you see something that was reminiscent about a friend you have. There was Klaus the new drummer who is the friend stuck in the past with the air of 1980’s East German about him; then you have Thomas the guitarist who is the trendsetter friend; finally is Marina the singer who is the leader and takes charge, knowing full well what she wants. Marina and her band hail from Vienna, Austria which is reflected in two of their songs. Vor Deiner Tür which in English is ‘In front of your door’ and completely sung in German, the other song was Almost Written which has a slower tempo and is their interpretation of the Austrian Waltz. The set is played in two halves. The first half is lively and bubbly which was contrasted by a soothing, almost like a lullaby like second half. The second half fitted perfectly into the atmosphere of the venue, the second half is the designer gown.
Thursday, 17 January 2013
Monday, 14 January 2013
Want to see my publish work?
On this blog, I post pretty much anything. Posts will range from essays to ramblings to things I find interesting. Half the time you'll probably find errors and that posts change over time as I notice the errors as I often just write and post.
What you may not know is that I have set up a website - well if you want to get technical it is just another blog but some point down the line I will be buying the address. This other website/blog is to showcase my published work, things that I am extremely proud of such as the poem that is currently on there. It will take a couple weeks until I start posting on there regularly but it should be every week I post on there. Every time I am published in any sort of publication I will be posting on there.
So if you would like to see my published work, please click here.
What you may not know is that I have set up a website - well if you want to get technical it is just another blog but some point down the line I will be buying the address. This other website/blog is to showcase my published work, things that I am extremely proud of such as the poem that is currently on there. It will take a couple weeks until I start posting on there regularly but it should be every week I post on there. Every time I am published in any sort of publication I will be posting on there.
So if you would like to see my published work, please click here.
Creative Writing Assignment 2
Johannes was sitting on the edge of the bed and sighed. Anke was curled in a ball on the other side of the bed, she had her back facing him as she laid there shivering despite being covered with the sheets. Every so often Anke would whimper in pain and upset. The bed creaked as he slowly got up. Johannes stood on the spot as he caught his reflection in the mirror. His dark brown hair was in desperate need of a cut, every time he brushed it out of his eyes it just fell back into place. His eyes seemed darker than normal. They were almost black, like his father’s eyes. Underneath his eyes, Johannes saw two deep purple circles from the lack of sleep. He was slowly turning into his father; the constant running away from everything was playing with his head. He didn’t know why he was angry.
“Get up,”
Anke whimpered as pushed her legs over the edge of the bed before she pushed herself up so she was in a seated position.
“Up, Anna, on your feet and get over here.” He said, making sure to use her fake name as the walls were so thin that anyone could hear them.
Anke shot up onto her feet and made her way around the bed to Johannes, scared to anger him further. She caught her reflection in the mirror and she saw a dark bruise appearing around her left eye. There was a rip in her dress shoulder where the buckle from his belt had hit her. The skin under the rip was bleeding. She flinched as he placed a hand on her cheek to tilt her head up to him. He saw that her blue eyes had lost their sparkle, they were glazed with tears. She was scared of him. He had seen the same look of fear he saw in her before but not in her. He had never seen fear written so obviously across her face.
“Anke?” he whispered as he tried to place a kiss on her lips.
“L...Let me go.”
She tried to pull herself away in tears.
“Snap out of it!”
He slapped her. The sound echoed throughout the apartment. Anke fell into the mirror on the wall before she slid down to the floor in tears as Johannes walked around her and out of the bedroom following the soft crying he could hear from the room next to theirs. Anke curled into a ball against the wall as she cried. The floor creaked as Johannes came back, holding a crying bundle of blankets. He watched Anke on the floor as he carefully peeled back the layers, revealing the blonde child hidden beneath them. The child stared at him before he turned the child around to face Anke.
“Susanna, I want you to remember this. This is what I don’t want you to become: weak, pathetic and useless but with us as your parents. I don’t think you stand a fighting chance.”
Anke kept her head down as she walked down the street, holding Susanna who was wrapped in blankets. Afraid eye contact would expose her for who she really was. Afraid she would be pulled away from the small blonde child in her arms, torn away from Johannes. Though for what it was worth, a work camp might have been better for her.
She’d left the building they had set up a temporary home in, needing to see something other than their mouldy four walls. Her body had been screaming out for food, they had no food, they never had food. Anke refused to steal food as they had no money, or at least no money she knew about. Morals were all she had that no one could take from her. She sighed as she felt the familiar squelch of water inside her boots. Her hair stuck to her face and body, she leant forward slightly as she walked in an effort to keep Susanna dry. As the rain got heavier, she hid in the first thing she found. She was sheltered from the rain but ended up being exposed in the phone booth, with images of her own face staring back at her. She had nowhere to run. Just staring at the image of herself made her worried that someone would remember her face; that someone would figure out what she is as the star on her collar stared back at her.
“What’s happened to you?”
The silence of the phone booth was shattered by someone hammering on the glass. The person wiped the glass so they could see in.
“We need to leave now. Now Anna!”
Her knees started to shake when she saw why they needed to leave. The posters were blaming her. Lying to people; saying that she killed the General, calling her dangerous and unstable.
She shook her head, too scared to leave the shelter of the phone booth.
“Anna, now! Some people came by the building, someone spotted us. We. Have. To. Leave!”
He opened the door and held his hand out to her. Her blue eyes looked terrified as she looked at him, she couldn’t decide if she had it in her to keep running with her. She saw a man walking towards them, he was dressed in some sort of uniform but she wasn’t sure if it was police or the SS.
“Anna, I promised your dad I would look after you. I promised I would keep you safe no matter what. We need to leave. Think of Susanna.”
Anke put her hand on his and nodded at him.
“We run for Susanna, nothing else.”
Johannes shook his head as he looked at her.
“We run because we know the truth. People need to know it.”
Anke held onto his hand as they walked down the street, pretending that everything was normal, pretending they were functional.
They’d gone full circle, ending back up where they had run away from. They had run away from their problems over a year ago, only to face them head on once more. In reality it was a stupid risk to undertake. Johannes had found them an abandoned apartment. The whole building was abandoned, almost decrepit with its rotten floors and mouldy walls.
Anke was laid on the floor not moving, Susanna crying in the corner. Johannes wasn’t in the apartment; he’d stormed out after punching the wall next to Anke. The room was slanted as she opened her eyes, she couldn’t quite figure out where she was, or why Susanna was crying. She’d pretended to be seriously hurt, just to get rid of him. Slowly, Anke pulled herself across the floor to Susanna. The second Anke touched Susanna’s hand; the tiny blonde child ceased crying.
“I know Susanna, I know. It’s scary out there but it shouldn’t be scary in here. I’m here and that is all that matters, I’ll walk to the ends of the earth for you. I’ll even swallow my pride for you,” she whispered, as she pushed herself into a seating position so she could hold Susanna.
Susanna grabbed a fistful of raggedy blonde hair, pulling Anke’s head forward so she could place her head against her mother’s. Anke laid on the floor, with Susanna on her chest. Tears formed in her eyes as she laughed whilst looking at her daughter. Laughter was the only emotion she had left; it surprised her that she still knew how to do it as the last time it had happened everything was perfect. The General was still alive, she wasn’t scared and her parents hadn’t been torn from her. Fear wasn’t written in her DNA then.
She looked up at Susanna, the dark eyes staring back at her.
Anke heard a creek lower down in the building as she forced herself up, keeping Susanna as close as possible. Standing on her tip toes, she carefully made her away towards the doorway, making sure not to step on certain blackened floorboards. She heard footsteps getting closer as she gave up being silent and just ran up a flight of stairs. Voices echoed throughout the building, the sounded almost demonic, giving chase through the building. Terrified of what would happen if she stopped for a moment to get her breath back, to rub her aching limbs, to reassure the blonde infant. The footsteps where getting louder, quicker. The voices turning into shrieks and wails. Four walls cornering her in, caging her in like she was a dangerous animal. To them that is exactly what she was, she was subhuman.
“No! No! No! Where is it?”
Anke smacked the wall trying to find the elusive door that Johannes talked about. It was meant to be their one means of escape if they were found. Up onto the roof and down the drain pipe, dangerous but it would work. It had to work being caught by the SS or Gestapo would mean she had reached the end of the line and not just for Anke, everything would be found out and Susanna would be taken away as she was still considered German and acceptable.
“No, he said it was here! It has to be!”
She curled up into a ball against the wall, still cradling Susanna in her arms.
Silence echoed throughout the building. The floorboards continued to moan and wail as she lifted up her head.
“Get up.”
Oh, it was worse. So much more worse than the Gestapo or the SS, at least with them her misery would end quickly, especially if she ran. Then it would be a metal pellet to the back of head, quick and almost painless. Her eyes and nose burned as they were intruded by the floral cloud surrounding the woman stood in the doorway. She recognised the dark pin curls, the dark fur shawl, and the opulent jewels adorning the woman. It was Johannes’ mother, Eva Schmitt. She looked like Johannes, only sterner. It wasn’t for her silhouette; she’d be mistaken for a man in a wig. Anke’s mother used to refer to her as Mr Schmitt, the wife of General Schmitt, the thought put a slight smile on her face for just a moment.
“Anna, get up!”
Anke slowly got up, staring at the dark eyes that tormented her. She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Johannes said you both needed help. I’m only here for the child, it’s not fair she has to suffer for what you two have done,” Said the woman as she made her way towards Anke.
“I didn’t do anything! He can’t protect himself, you know that because you let him suffer at the hands of your husband whilst you sat there doing nothing!”
“You know exactly what you have done. Judensau.”
Johannes could see the anger raising in Anke by the way her lips pursed, her nose wrinkle and her stare harden. No one had called her a Judensau in a long time but she still found offence in the word. Even he found offence in the word.
“Don’t call her that! Anke doesn’t deserve that. If you are going to call her that then that is what you think about Susanna and about me because I love them both!”
“Then you teach her how to talk to Germans. Otherwise I am taking the child with me. Don’t think I wouldn’t hesitate about turning you both in even if you are my son. If you want help Johannes, you do it on my terms, especially after you murdered my husband.”
“Murder is a bit strong–”
“Anke! Don’t!”
She groaned in frustration that she couldn’t voice her opinion. She knew it was ‘proper’ to not voice her opinion but it was suffocating.
“Come now, both of you. You need a good wash and a good plate of food.”
Anke sat in the bath staring at the silver tap, the warm water felt alien against her skin. The water soothed her swollen joints. It gave some relief to her battered and bruised body. Barely any of her pale skin was visible under the patterns of purple, blue, red and yellow that covered her body.
Before the hiding Anke had been slender but now she was starved, her ribs poked out and her spinal cord could be seen if she leant forward. When she got out of the bath she picked up the white threadbare towel, Eva had just found the oldest towel she could. It was the one she used to dry the dog with. It bothered Anke but not as much as the fact that Eva would give her meals on the plate she served food on for the dog. Eva had found her a dress, it was a hand me down from a friend, it was a little big but it was better than her previous dress. A potato sack would have sufficed more than the summer dress she wore.
Susanna was still fast asleep in the bed. Eva was in the kitchen or the living room, she was somewhere, probably plotting to get rid of Anke. Johannes was sitting on the floor outside the bathroom. He was shaking, he’d been crying, he looked dishevelled with his ripped collar and messed up hair. Since being back, he had gone back to his uniformed look of suit, shined shoes and perfectly combed hair. She noticed four deep, bleeding scratches as she knelt down next to him. His hands were bruised and bloody. She pulled out a handkerchief out of his pocket before pressing it against his face without questioning it. She never questioned it.
“She attacked me. She’s never attacked me before. She just used to stand there and watch.”
She just sighed, dabbing the scratches as the downstairs floor creaked.
“Eva? Eva, the door was open. Are you in?”
Anke frowned; Eva has been down stairs cooking earlier. Johannes was worried as he looked at her as she got up to go and see who was down stairs. She made her way down stairs to see who it was. She took baby steps down the hall towards the kitchen.
“Who are you?”
She turned around. The grey uniform was the only thing she saw, not his face, his camp or any of his patches.
“Anna, Anna Traber, sir.” She gagged trying not to vomit up her words.
“Why are you here? This is Eva Schmitt’s home.”
He frowned as he heard Susanna starting to cry upstairs.
“I’m Johannes partner, sir. Eva has taken us in after we decided to move back Berlin, with our daughter.”
She pressed her knees together to stop her shaking being visible. Johannes came down holding Susanna in his arms.
“Do you know where Eva is? I check on her twice a week after Herbert was murdered by a Judensau.”
“My mother went to the market this morning. She said she was going to meet Frau Baaz as well. I’m sorry for your wasted trip. I’ll let her know you called,” Said Johannes as he gave Susanna to Anke.
The officer nodded before he started to leave. She sighed as she looked at Johannes, as she rubbed Susanna’s back.
“One more thing. Anna, could you show me your papers?”
“Of course. Johannes, could you get them? They are upstairs, with our other documents. She needs a drink, do you mind if I go into the kitchen?”
He followed her into the kitchen so she could give Susanna a drink. Anke was trying her best not to show that she felt caged and terrified of him. To Anke, centuries had passed by the time Johannes came back down. He held out her papers to the officer who smiled at Anke.
“Anna Isolde Traber. My daughter is called Isolde, it’s beautiful. Remember to tell Eva that I visited.”
When the door slammed shut, he sighed.
“I thought he knew. I thought he was going to kill me.”
“Thought he knew? Knew what?”
He didn’t know what to say as he looked at her. He didn’t want to upset her or anger her by telling her the actual truth.
“Where is your mother?”
He closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. His hands curled into fists, his knuckles turned white. His started to bit his lip, his face twisted as if he was in pain, holding back his secret.
“Johannes? Where is she?”
The silence was painful as Anke stared at him. Frustration was getting the best of her, lying to ordinary people was one thing, lying to an officer was another thing.
“Where is she? Where is Eva!”
He trembled as he opened his eyes. They were dark, darker than she had seen before. His eyelashes shone with tears as he took a deep breath before opening his mouth.
“I’d do anything for you and Susanna, you know that? I love you both so much it hurts.”
“Johannes? What have you done?”
He smirked slightly as he took her hand, dragging her into the lounge. Eva was laid on the floor; the cream carpet was strained crimson. She didn’t move. Even if she could with her limbs sticking out in different directions would have made it impossible. Anke couldn’t understand how she hadn’t heard what had happened. How did she not know that Eva had been here and dying?
“I got rid of the problem Anna. It’s never going to bother us again.”
Anke saw the dead stare in Eva’s eyes. It was the same dead stare that haunted her since Johannes shot his father. Since seeing Eva, Anke had put her hand over Susanna’s face not wanting her daughter to be haunted by this too.
“No…No Johannes, you created another problem. You’ve killed the one person who was willing to help us. Once that officer sees this, he’ll find out I’m a Jew and I’ll be killed or sent to a work camp! Why would you do that to Susanna?”
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her confused. It wasn’t the reaction he had expected. He thought she would be glad that Eva was gone.
“I thought you’d be glad that she was gone. Like you were when I murdered my father for you.”
“I was glad he was about to kill me! He had me on the alley floor and was threatening to put a silver bullet through my skull because he found out I am Jewish. He found out because you wanted to leave the Hitler Youth! You stupidly told him that you wanted to leave because I didn’t agree with it and mentioned about my Star of David necklace! You did this! You pushed yourself to kill your father and your mother!”
“She treated you like you are worse than the dog!”
“And I never complained because she wasn’t going to tell anyone what I am. She gave me clothes, warmth and food. She did more in three days than you have done in 15 months! I don’t even know who you are anymore. Who are you? This isn’t my Johannes!”
His nails dug into his palms before he left the room, slamming the door behind him. He stamped as he went up the stairs. She sighed as she knelt down next to Eva, holding Susanna against her chest as she tried to assess what had happened to Eva. Would there be a way to lie her way out of this one?
“Miss Traber? What happened in here? I heard commotion when I left.”
The officer was stood at the door. Anke moved so he could see Eva.
“She was like that when I came in. I thought she’d gone out. I don’t understand.”
She turned around, tears streaming down her face.
All she had was hope. Hopefully a damsel in distress act would work.
Author Note: Some who read this will know that before I wanted to be a journalist, I wanted to be a writer. Especially as I apparently have a name suitable for a novelist and to be on the New York Times. I have written this for one of my assignments for University. I took a creative writing module this sememester. Some may also notice that you can't highlight text or copy it. This is to protect my work, I have recently seen that someone has taken the work of several bloggers and tried to pass it off as their own. I do think I am a littler safer than they were because I am not a beauty blogger, but I would rather not risk it though at the same time I want put my work out there. I just don't want someone else to take the credit for my work.
“Get up,”
Anke whimpered as pushed her legs over the edge of the bed before she pushed herself up so she was in a seated position.
“Up, Anna, on your feet and get over here.” He said, making sure to use her fake name as the walls were so thin that anyone could hear them.
Anke shot up onto her feet and made her way around the bed to Johannes, scared to anger him further. She caught her reflection in the mirror and she saw a dark bruise appearing around her left eye. There was a rip in her dress shoulder where the buckle from his belt had hit her. The skin under the rip was bleeding. She flinched as he placed a hand on her cheek to tilt her head up to him. He saw that her blue eyes had lost their sparkle, they were glazed with tears. She was scared of him. He had seen the same look of fear he saw in her before but not in her. He had never seen fear written so obviously across her face.
“Anke?” he whispered as he tried to place a kiss on her lips.
“L...Let me go.”
She tried to pull herself away in tears.
“Snap out of it!”
He slapped her. The sound echoed throughout the apartment. Anke fell into the mirror on the wall before she slid down to the floor in tears as Johannes walked around her and out of the bedroom following the soft crying he could hear from the room next to theirs. Anke curled into a ball against the wall as she cried. The floor creaked as Johannes came back, holding a crying bundle of blankets. He watched Anke on the floor as he carefully peeled back the layers, revealing the blonde child hidden beneath them. The child stared at him before he turned the child around to face Anke.
“Susanna, I want you to remember this. This is what I don’t want you to become: weak, pathetic and useless but with us as your parents. I don’t think you stand a fighting chance.”
Anke kept her head down as she walked down the street, holding Susanna who was wrapped in blankets. Afraid eye contact would expose her for who she really was. Afraid she would be pulled away from the small blonde child in her arms, torn away from Johannes. Though for what it was worth, a work camp might have been better for her.
She’d left the building they had set up a temporary home in, needing to see something other than their mouldy four walls. Her body had been screaming out for food, they had no food, they never had food. Anke refused to steal food as they had no money, or at least no money she knew about. Morals were all she had that no one could take from her. She sighed as she felt the familiar squelch of water inside her boots. Her hair stuck to her face and body, she leant forward slightly as she walked in an effort to keep Susanna dry. As the rain got heavier, she hid in the first thing she found. She was sheltered from the rain but ended up being exposed in the phone booth, with images of her own face staring back at her. She had nowhere to run. Just staring at the image of herself made her worried that someone would remember her face; that someone would figure out what she is as the star on her collar stared back at her.
“What’s happened to you?”
The silence of the phone booth was shattered by someone hammering on the glass. The person wiped the glass so they could see in.
“We need to leave now. Now Anna!”
Her knees started to shake when she saw why they needed to leave. The posters were blaming her. Lying to people; saying that she killed the General, calling her dangerous and unstable.
She shook her head, too scared to leave the shelter of the phone booth.
“Anna, now! Some people came by the building, someone spotted us. We. Have. To. Leave!”
He opened the door and held his hand out to her. Her blue eyes looked terrified as she looked at him, she couldn’t decide if she had it in her to keep running with her. She saw a man walking towards them, he was dressed in some sort of uniform but she wasn’t sure if it was police or the SS.
“Anna, I promised your dad I would look after you. I promised I would keep you safe no matter what. We need to leave. Think of Susanna.”
Anke put her hand on his and nodded at him.
“We run for Susanna, nothing else.”
Johannes shook his head as he looked at her.
“We run because we know the truth. People need to know it.”
Anke held onto his hand as they walked down the street, pretending that everything was normal, pretending they were functional.
They’d gone full circle, ending back up where they had run away from. They had run away from their problems over a year ago, only to face them head on once more. In reality it was a stupid risk to undertake. Johannes had found them an abandoned apartment. The whole building was abandoned, almost decrepit with its rotten floors and mouldy walls.
Anke was laid on the floor not moving, Susanna crying in the corner. Johannes wasn’t in the apartment; he’d stormed out after punching the wall next to Anke. The room was slanted as she opened her eyes, she couldn’t quite figure out where she was, or why Susanna was crying. She’d pretended to be seriously hurt, just to get rid of him. Slowly, Anke pulled herself across the floor to Susanna. The second Anke touched Susanna’s hand; the tiny blonde child ceased crying.
“I know Susanna, I know. It’s scary out there but it shouldn’t be scary in here. I’m here and that is all that matters, I’ll walk to the ends of the earth for you. I’ll even swallow my pride for you,” she whispered, as she pushed herself into a seating position so she could hold Susanna.
Susanna grabbed a fistful of raggedy blonde hair, pulling Anke’s head forward so she could place her head against her mother’s. Anke laid on the floor, with Susanna on her chest. Tears formed in her eyes as she laughed whilst looking at her daughter. Laughter was the only emotion she had left; it surprised her that she still knew how to do it as the last time it had happened everything was perfect. The General was still alive, she wasn’t scared and her parents hadn’t been torn from her. Fear wasn’t written in her DNA then.
She looked up at Susanna, the dark eyes staring back at her.
Anke heard a creek lower down in the building as she forced herself up, keeping Susanna as close as possible. Standing on her tip toes, she carefully made her away towards the doorway, making sure not to step on certain blackened floorboards. She heard footsteps getting closer as she gave up being silent and just ran up a flight of stairs. Voices echoed throughout the building, the sounded almost demonic, giving chase through the building. Terrified of what would happen if she stopped for a moment to get her breath back, to rub her aching limbs, to reassure the blonde infant. The footsteps where getting louder, quicker. The voices turning into shrieks and wails. Four walls cornering her in, caging her in like she was a dangerous animal. To them that is exactly what she was, she was subhuman.
“No! No! No! Where is it?”
Anke smacked the wall trying to find the elusive door that Johannes talked about. It was meant to be their one means of escape if they were found. Up onto the roof and down the drain pipe, dangerous but it would work. It had to work being caught by the SS or Gestapo would mean she had reached the end of the line and not just for Anke, everything would be found out and Susanna would be taken away as she was still considered German and acceptable.
“No, he said it was here! It has to be!”
She curled up into a ball against the wall, still cradling Susanna in her arms.
Silence echoed throughout the building. The floorboards continued to moan and wail as she lifted up her head.
“Get up.”
Oh, it was worse. So much more worse than the Gestapo or the SS, at least with them her misery would end quickly, especially if she ran. Then it would be a metal pellet to the back of head, quick and almost painless. Her eyes and nose burned as they were intruded by the floral cloud surrounding the woman stood in the doorway. She recognised the dark pin curls, the dark fur shawl, and the opulent jewels adorning the woman. It was Johannes’ mother, Eva Schmitt. She looked like Johannes, only sterner. It wasn’t for her silhouette; she’d be mistaken for a man in a wig. Anke’s mother used to refer to her as Mr Schmitt, the wife of General Schmitt, the thought put a slight smile on her face for just a moment.
“Anna, get up!”
Anke slowly got up, staring at the dark eyes that tormented her. She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Johannes said you both needed help. I’m only here for the child, it’s not fair she has to suffer for what you two have done,” Said the woman as she made her way towards Anke.
“I didn’t do anything! He can’t protect himself, you know that because you let him suffer at the hands of your husband whilst you sat there doing nothing!”
“You know exactly what you have done. Judensau.”
Johannes could see the anger raising in Anke by the way her lips pursed, her nose wrinkle and her stare harden. No one had called her a Judensau in a long time but she still found offence in the word. Even he found offence in the word.
“Don’t call her that! Anke doesn’t deserve that. If you are going to call her that then that is what you think about Susanna and about me because I love them both!”
“Then you teach her how to talk to Germans. Otherwise I am taking the child with me. Don’t think I wouldn’t hesitate about turning you both in even if you are my son. If you want help Johannes, you do it on my terms, especially after you murdered my husband.”
“Murder is a bit strong–”
“Anke! Don’t!”
She groaned in frustration that she couldn’t voice her opinion. She knew it was ‘proper’ to not voice her opinion but it was suffocating.
“Come now, both of you. You need a good wash and a good plate of food.”
Anke sat in the bath staring at the silver tap, the warm water felt alien against her skin. The water soothed her swollen joints. It gave some relief to her battered and bruised body. Barely any of her pale skin was visible under the patterns of purple, blue, red and yellow that covered her body.
Before the hiding Anke had been slender but now she was starved, her ribs poked out and her spinal cord could be seen if she leant forward. When she got out of the bath she picked up the white threadbare towel, Eva had just found the oldest towel she could. It was the one she used to dry the dog with. It bothered Anke but not as much as the fact that Eva would give her meals on the plate she served food on for the dog. Eva had found her a dress, it was a hand me down from a friend, it was a little big but it was better than her previous dress. A potato sack would have sufficed more than the summer dress she wore.
Susanna was still fast asleep in the bed. Eva was in the kitchen or the living room, she was somewhere, probably plotting to get rid of Anke. Johannes was sitting on the floor outside the bathroom. He was shaking, he’d been crying, he looked dishevelled with his ripped collar and messed up hair. Since being back, he had gone back to his uniformed look of suit, shined shoes and perfectly combed hair. She noticed four deep, bleeding scratches as she knelt down next to him. His hands were bruised and bloody. She pulled out a handkerchief out of his pocket before pressing it against his face without questioning it. She never questioned it.
“She attacked me. She’s never attacked me before. She just used to stand there and watch.”
She just sighed, dabbing the scratches as the downstairs floor creaked.
“Eva? Eva, the door was open. Are you in?”
Anke frowned; Eva has been down stairs cooking earlier. Johannes was worried as he looked at her as she got up to go and see who was down stairs. She made her way down stairs to see who it was. She took baby steps down the hall towards the kitchen.
“Who are you?”
She turned around. The grey uniform was the only thing she saw, not his face, his camp or any of his patches.
“Anna, Anna Traber, sir.” She gagged trying not to vomit up her words.
“Why are you here? This is Eva Schmitt’s home.”
He frowned as he heard Susanna starting to cry upstairs.
“I’m Johannes partner, sir. Eva has taken us in after we decided to move back Berlin, with our daughter.”
She pressed her knees together to stop her shaking being visible. Johannes came down holding Susanna in his arms.
“Do you know where Eva is? I check on her twice a week after Herbert was murdered by a Judensau.”
“My mother went to the market this morning. She said she was going to meet Frau Baaz as well. I’m sorry for your wasted trip. I’ll let her know you called,” Said Johannes as he gave Susanna to Anke.
The officer nodded before he started to leave. She sighed as she looked at Johannes, as she rubbed Susanna’s back.
“One more thing. Anna, could you show me your papers?”
“Of course. Johannes, could you get them? They are upstairs, with our other documents. She needs a drink, do you mind if I go into the kitchen?”
He followed her into the kitchen so she could give Susanna a drink. Anke was trying her best not to show that she felt caged and terrified of him. To Anke, centuries had passed by the time Johannes came back down. He held out her papers to the officer who smiled at Anke.
“Anna Isolde Traber. My daughter is called Isolde, it’s beautiful. Remember to tell Eva that I visited.”
When the door slammed shut, he sighed.
“I thought he knew. I thought he was going to kill me.”
“Thought he knew? Knew what?”
He didn’t know what to say as he looked at her. He didn’t want to upset her or anger her by telling her the actual truth.
“Where is your mother?”
He closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. His hands curled into fists, his knuckles turned white. His started to bit his lip, his face twisted as if he was in pain, holding back his secret.
“Johannes? Where is she?”
The silence was painful as Anke stared at him. Frustration was getting the best of her, lying to ordinary people was one thing, lying to an officer was another thing.
“Where is she? Where is Eva!”
He trembled as he opened his eyes. They were dark, darker than she had seen before. His eyelashes shone with tears as he took a deep breath before opening his mouth.
“I’d do anything for you and Susanna, you know that? I love you both so much it hurts.”
“Johannes? What have you done?”
He smirked slightly as he took her hand, dragging her into the lounge. Eva was laid on the floor; the cream carpet was strained crimson. She didn’t move. Even if she could with her limbs sticking out in different directions would have made it impossible. Anke couldn’t understand how she hadn’t heard what had happened. How did she not know that Eva had been here and dying?
“I got rid of the problem Anna. It’s never going to bother us again.”
Anke saw the dead stare in Eva’s eyes. It was the same dead stare that haunted her since Johannes shot his father. Since seeing Eva, Anke had put her hand over Susanna’s face not wanting her daughter to be haunted by this too.
“No…No Johannes, you created another problem. You’ve killed the one person who was willing to help us. Once that officer sees this, he’ll find out I’m a Jew and I’ll be killed or sent to a work camp! Why would you do that to Susanna?”
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her confused. It wasn’t the reaction he had expected. He thought she would be glad that Eva was gone.
“I thought you’d be glad that she was gone. Like you were when I murdered my father for you.”
“I was glad he was about to kill me! He had me on the alley floor and was threatening to put a silver bullet through my skull because he found out I am Jewish. He found out because you wanted to leave the Hitler Youth! You stupidly told him that you wanted to leave because I didn’t agree with it and mentioned about my Star of David necklace! You did this! You pushed yourself to kill your father and your mother!”
“She treated you like you are worse than the dog!”
“And I never complained because she wasn’t going to tell anyone what I am. She gave me clothes, warmth and food. She did more in three days than you have done in 15 months! I don’t even know who you are anymore. Who are you? This isn’t my Johannes!”
His nails dug into his palms before he left the room, slamming the door behind him. He stamped as he went up the stairs. She sighed as she knelt down next to Eva, holding Susanna against her chest as she tried to assess what had happened to Eva. Would there be a way to lie her way out of this one?
“Miss Traber? What happened in here? I heard commotion when I left.”
The officer was stood at the door. Anke moved so he could see Eva.
“She was like that when I came in. I thought she’d gone out. I don’t understand.”
She turned around, tears streaming down her face.
All she had was hope. Hopefully a damsel in distress act would work.
Author Note: Some who read this will know that before I wanted to be a journalist, I wanted to be a writer. Especially as I apparently have a name suitable for a novelist and to be on the New York Times. I have written this for one of my assignments for University. I took a creative writing module this sememester. Some may also notice that you can't highlight text or copy it. This is to protect my work, I have recently seen that someone has taken the work of several bloggers and tried to pass it off as their own. I do think I am a littler safer than they were because I am not a beauty blogger, but I would rather not risk it though at the same time I want put my work out there. I just don't want someone else to take the credit for my work.
Thursday, 29 March 2012
Twitter: Liam Stacey and Fabrice Muamba
Twenty one year old Liam Stacey has been jailed for fifty six days after posting racially offensive comments on Twitter about Fabrice Muamba, a Bolton Wanderers football player who suffered a cardiac arrest. Stacey posted the comments after Muamba collapsed during the FA Cup quarter final on 17th March.
The district judge described Stacey’s comments as “vile and abhorrent” and I agree with the judge. Anyone who can post offensive comments about anyone even if they are just an average person and then proceed to hide behind a computer is as vile as the come, especially as in this case the victim of the abuse was fighting for his life. It’s cowardly to hide behind your computer and post offensive things about someone. We are increasingly living in a society that is using social media more and with the rise of social media; we are also experiencing the rise of internet trolls whom attack people on the internet by saying things they wouldn’t say to their victims’ faces whilst hiding behind their keyboard.
The district judge described Stacey’s comments as “vile and abhorrent” and I agree with the judge. Anyone who can post offensive comments about anyone even if they are just an average person and then proceed to hide behind a computer is as vile as the come, especially as in this case the victim of the abuse was fighting for his life. It’s cowardly to hide behind your computer and post offensive things about someone. We are increasingly living in a society that is using social media more and with the rise of social media; we are also experiencing the rise of internet trolls whom attack people on the internet by saying things they wouldn’t say to their victims’ faces whilst hiding behind their keyboard.
However Stacey has only been jailed for fifty six days, which in the scheme of things is nothing, he will be in jail for less than two months which sounds absurd for racial abuse. Fifty six days sounds too short a sense for a crime such as the racial abuse, especially with the impact such abuse can have on a person. Stacey tried to argue that his twitter account was hacked, lying about what he did as he was drunk when he posted the tweets. He must have been incredibly drunk to have a complete lack of judgement, although he could just be lacking in common sense to post something that could be racially sensitive.
However vile and disgusted one may be towards Stacey, the fact he is imprisoned to some raises a point about our right to free speech. Our right of free speech means we can say what we want providing it follows a few basic rules. Stacey was prosecuted under the Communications Act of 2003 that was introduced before the introduction of Twitter which some such as Abhijit Pandya of the Daily Mail don’t think is right or fair to do so. Maybe the Communications Act needs to be updated to include the new social media, but would it be excessive and unnecessary to update the Act every time a new media platform rises to prominence.
However vile and disgusted one may be towards Stacey, the fact he is imprisoned to some raises a point about our right to free speech. Our right of free speech means we can say what we want providing it follows a few basic rules. Stacey was prosecuted under the Communications Act of 2003 that was introduced before the introduction of Twitter which some such as Abhijit Pandya of the Daily Mail don’t think is right or fair to do so. Maybe the Communications Act needs to be updated to include the new social media, but would it be excessive and unnecessary to update the Act every time a new media platform rises to prominence.
Wednesday, 28 March 2012
The Good, The Bad, The Ugly.
On Marine Road there is what appears to be a giant tube of polo mints; it looks to be a part of a derelict candy land when in fact it actually isn’t. The giant tube of polo mints was part of a fairground. It’s now the only remnant of the fairground; it too will be eventually demolished as part of the redevelopment of Morecambe. There is only one reason the tower still exists and hasn’t been torn down and that is because on top of the tower is a telephone mask which means that the tower can’t be torn down until at least 2013 when the contract runs out.
The multi-million face lift of Morecambe is an attempt to restore the resorts dying charm, as over the years the resort has gone from holiday hot spot to reaching the number three spot in a list of ‘Crap Towns’ in 2003. Most of the money has been spent on suitable redevelopments such as the eleven million pounds spent on the Midland Hotel the town’s iconic art deco hotel. However some of redevelopment projects have been less successful and are the bane of the residents such as multimillion pound spenditure on the importation of sand which now covers most of the promenade and the nearby grass. Though it will take more than a nip and tuck to solve the issues with the resort, much of the money is being spent refurbishing some of the dilapidated old building such as the Winter Gardens which despite all the money raised is still in need of reconstructive surgery to bring it up to form.
This isn’t the first attempt to update the town or to make it appeal to a more youthful demographic. On the seafront there used to be a swimming pool which attracted many of the residents and The Morecambe Dome which hosted many an event and even attracted bands such as the Artic Monkeys. Both now have been torn down nothing in their place, just tarmac and the occasional travelling fairground.
Morecambe could reach the level it once was but given the financial state the town is now in it may take another generation or two to become the resort it once was. Given how Morecambe is dependent on Lancaster to help them out when they get into financial issues, it may be best just to focus on to the natural beauty of the area instead of trying to revive the dying town.
The multi-million face lift of Morecambe is an attempt to restore the resorts dying charm, as over the years the resort has gone from holiday hot spot to reaching the number three spot in a list of ‘Crap Towns’ in 2003. Most of the money has been spent on suitable redevelopments such as the eleven million pounds spent on the Midland Hotel the town’s iconic art deco hotel. However some of redevelopment projects have been less successful and are the bane of the residents such as multimillion pound spenditure on the importation of sand which now covers most of the promenade and the nearby grass. Though it will take more than a nip and tuck to solve the issues with the resort, much of the money is being spent refurbishing some of the dilapidated old building such as the Winter Gardens which despite all the money raised is still in need of reconstructive surgery to bring it up to form.
This isn’t the first attempt to update the town or to make it appeal to a more youthful demographic. On the seafront there used to be a swimming pool which attracted many of the residents and The Morecambe Dome which hosted many an event and even attracted bands such as the Artic Monkeys. Both now have been torn down nothing in their place, just tarmac and the occasional travelling fairground.
Morecambe could reach the level it once was but given the financial state the town is now in it may take another generation or two to become the resort it once was. Given how Morecambe is dependent on Lancaster to help them out when they get into financial issues, it may be best just to focus on to the natural beauty of the area instead of trying to revive the dying town.
Monday, 26 March 2012
Review: Lautonom –Killerpilze
The band Killerpilze, come from a town in southern Germany called Dillingen an der Donau, they were formed in 2002. The band now consists of brothers Johannes ‘Jo’ (rhythm guitar and lead vocals) and Fabian ‘Fabi’ Halbig (drums) as well as their friend Maximillian ‘Max’ Schlichter (lead guitar and backing vocals). One of the original founding members – Andreas Schlagenhaft – who was also the bass player left the band in 2007.
Killerpilze are highly successful within mainland Europe but are rarely heard anywhere else. Yet despite their success it is rare for albums and their singles to reach the top ten in the music charts.
Lautonom is their third album, however it is their first under their own label – Killerpilze records. The formation of their own record label has given the band more creative control which many bands don’t receive until four or five albums down the line; also given that when the album was released the members of the band where 17, 20 and 21 respectively it is amazing that they produced an album of great quality. Even though Lautonom signifies a more mature album compared to Invasion der Killerpilze and Mit Punken und Raketen you can hear some of the immaturity from their lack of worldly experience. What they lack in worldly experience, they more than make up in music that is just addictive to the point where you think around the 40th play you might have a problem. Of the 13 track record, two songs stand out more than the rest.
The first of these two songs is Lieblingssong which translates to favourite song. Lieblingssong is a love song and its unique in that it does not sound harsh or insincere which is sometimes the case with love songs, especially those in German as it can sound very harsh to the ear. It’s not the wet blanket love song either which just doesn’t sound great. Lieblingssong has found the perfect place between insincere and overdone. The second of these two songs is Plastik. I have a love hate relationship with the song. I love it because the band is basically telling the world they won’t be this commodity like many musicians become. The hate part of the song is the end, it wasn’t necessary to have the sound of vomiting at the end of the song. There is such a thing as taking a point too far, even in music.
Overall the album is certainly worth the 41 minute listening time.
Recommended for fans of: Tokio Hotel, Blink 182, Simple Plan and Good Charlotte.
Killerpilze are highly successful within mainland Europe but are rarely heard anywhere else. Yet despite their success it is rare for albums and their singles to reach the top ten in the music charts.
Lautonom is their third album, however it is their first under their own label – Killerpilze records. The formation of their own record label has given the band more creative control which many bands don’t receive until four or five albums down the line; also given that when the album was released the members of the band where 17, 20 and 21 respectively it is amazing that they produced an album of great quality. Even though Lautonom signifies a more mature album compared to Invasion der Killerpilze and Mit Punken und Raketen you can hear some of the immaturity from their lack of worldly experience. What they lack in worldly experience, they more than make up in music that is just addictive to the point where you think around the 40th play you might have a problem. Of the 13 track record, two songs stand out more than the rest.
The first of these two songs is Lieblingssong which translates to favourite song. Lieblingssong is a love song and its unique in that it does not sound harsh or insincere which is sometimes the case with love songs, especially those in German as it can sound very harsh to the ear. It’s not the wet blanket love song either which just doesn’t sound great. Lieblingssong has found the perfect place between insincere and overdone. The second of these two songs is Plastik. I have a love hate relationship with the song. I love it because the band is basically telling the world they won’t be this commodity like many musicians become. The hate part of the song is the end, it wasn’t necessary to have the sound of vomiting at the end of the song. There is such a thing as taking a point too far, even in music.
Overall the album is certainly worth the 41 minute listening time.
Recommended for fans of: Tokio Hotel, Blink 182, Simple Plan and Good Charlotte.
Wednesday, 29 June 2011
Is it something in the water or is everyone just crazy?
Being only twenty years old, I can't say I know a lot about being an adult. I can't drive, I don't have a job and I certainly am not in a relationship of any sorts. I do like to think I am mature enough to be an adult though sometimes it might not seem it. I can dress a little young for my age and get overly excited about things like a small child but I am still only twenty with the long road of being an adult a head of me. However, I have just come out of what is universally known as 'the teen years', so I would like to think I know a thing or two about being a teenager. Though, I probably didn't have the 'normal' experience of being a teenager.
On a scale of being a complete and total shut-in to being an ASBO wielding 15 year with a criminal record as along as the complete works of Shakespeare; I am probably nearer the shut-in than anything else. My parents knocked some sense into me and I have them to thank. Otherwise I would probably be in hospital from running in front of a car or in prison, luckily that common sense for the most part has sunk it - I'm not perfect, I still do stupid things.
I was never one to rebel any, whilst everyone around me seemed to be going crazy on their hormones. At times I did wonder when they would kick in and I would go as crazy as everyone around me, just to understand what they were doing. I never experimented like many did. I tried once to get into a bar at seventeen but the bounce took one look at my pre-teen looking face and wouldn't allow me in. I never tried that again until I was eighteen and legal. At least I have some for of I.D. to prove my actual age. I wanted to dye my hair and once considered buying a box dye and then realised the next day I was going visiting my grandparents, and it was just wasn't worth it. I tried sneaking out, but I couldn't open my window because the key was missing, plus I am not the quietest of people considering I was in a phase of stamping everywhere like a herd of elephants.
There was a point I got obsessed with my looks but my family took control and stopped me doing something stupid.
Now as I have mentioned, I am not very old. I am only twenty years old and to perfectly honest, it feels like I've not drank the same water as most people my age. I must be in the minority who haven't gotten pregnant and had children, why in this day and age would people my age get pregnant and ruin pretty much all life prospects for them? I understand perfectly in years gone people got married and had children early in life but most people my age end up on welfare or end up with low prospects due to lack of education. At the same time I am aware this doesn't go for most teenage parents, but for most people I went to school this is the case. Out of maybe the fifty kids that were in my year, around six went onto sixth form and excluding myself there are only three at university - that I know of - and one has completed her apprenticeship.
Is this something, we as young people should be proud of? Personally I think it is something we should be ashamed of. Why should this be the social norm when it should be more socially abnormal. Why in this day and age do people think it is fine to throw away your prospects. I am lucky that I had the support of my family, who drilled common sense into me and that I had boundaries. I guess that this long ramble really is, is an odd way of me saying thank you to my family for not allowing me to drink the water of my peers that turned them into crazed animals and thanking my family for keeping me on the straight and narrow to keep me focused on what really mattered. Instead of allowing me to turn out like the masses.
On a scale of being a complete and total shut-in to being an ASBO wielding 15 year with a criminal record as along as the complete works of Shakespeare; I am probably nearer the shut-in than anything else. My parents knocked some sense into me and I have them to thank. Otherwise I would probably be in hospital from running in front of a car or in prison, luckily that common sense for the most part has sunk it - I'm not perfect, I still do stupid things.
I was never one to rebel any, whilst everyone around me seemed to be going crazy on their hormones. At times I did wonder when they would kick in and I would go as crazy as everyone around me, just to understand what they were doing. I never experimented like many did. I tried once to get into a bar at seventeen but the bounce took one look at my pre-teen looking face and wouldn't allow me in. I never tried that again until I was eighteen and legal. At least I have some for of I.D. to prove my actual age. I wanted to dye my hair and once considered buying a box dye and then realised the next day I was going visiting my grandparents, and it was just wasn't worth it. I tried sneaking out, but I couldn't open my window because the key was missing, plus I am not the quietest of people considering I was in a phase of stamping everywhere like a herd of elephants.
There was a point I got obsessed with my looks but my family took control and stopped me doing something stupid.
Now as I have mentioned, I am not very old. I am only twenty years old and to perfectly honest, it feels like I've not drank the same water as most people my age. I must be in the minority who haven't gotten pregnant and had children, why in this day and age would people my age get pregnant and ruin pretty much all life prospects for them? I understand perfectly in years gone people got married and had children early in life but most people my age end up on welfare or end up with low prospects due to lack of education. At the same time I am aware this doesn't go for most teenage parents, but for most people I went to school this is the case. Out of maybe the fifty kids that were in my year, around six went onto sixth form and excluding myself there are only three at university - that I know of - and one has completed her apprenticeship.
Is this something, we as young people should be proud of? Personally I think it is something we should be ashamed of. Why should this be the social norm when it should be more socially abnormal. Why in this day and age do people think it is fine to throw away your prospects. I am lucky that I had the support of my family, who drilled common sense into me and that I had boundaries. I guess that this long ramble really is, is an odd way of me saying thank you to my family for not allowing me to drink the water of my peers that turned them into crazed animals and thanking my family for keeping me on the straight and narrow to keep me focused on what really mattered. Instead of allowing me to turn out like the masses.
Monday, 4 April 2011
Lower rates of female crime....
This is my essay for Criminology. This is my intellectual propety and I would appericate it if not one stole it and passed it off as your own. Not to mention that is plagerism and can get you into a lot of trouble.
Outline and discuss the main reasons given for lower rates of female crime.
“…if men behaved like women the courts would be idle and the prisons empty
Wooton (1959)” (Cited in Pond, 1999)
In this essay I am going to outline and discuss the reasons for lower rates of crime committed by females. There are several explanations for why women commit crime and why there are lower rates of crime. It has been generally believed that males will commit more crimes compared to females, and these crimes committed by females tend to relatively less serious than those committed by men (Pond, 1999). Females often commit crimes such as shoplifting, prostitution and perjury, crimes that can be argued, were committed to keep the family unit running. Though the numbers of females being imprisoned is fairly low, it has been increasing. In 1993 there number of women in prison on average was 1560. It then rose to around 4463 women in prison in June 2006. In June 2006 the number of women in prison only accounted for 5.7% of the prison population of England and Wales (hmprisonservice, n.d.).
However Otto Pollak (1950, cited in Pond, 1999) argued that the statistics on female crime were misleading because the crimes committed were under recorded. He stated that because the justice system is male dominated and taught to be chivalrous, that they are more lenient on women because of the chivalry trait they possess. With the men within the justice system being chivalrous and lenient towards female offenders, highlights the inequality in the system. If the justice system was female dominated it may not be so lenient towards men.
Pollak also believe that females were much more deceitful than males. Females are able to conceal their menstruation cycle and fake orgasms so they would be more able to hide their crimes. Though, the idea of women being able to hide crimes may work better for some crimes such as shop lifting than for others such as murder or assault. Women have the means to hide certain things in shop lifting easier than men do and people would not expect her to shop lift, especially if she has a pram with her. It could be argued that courts and police may not take female crime seriously, by arguing that she committed the crime for attention or because there is something wrong with her that is making her do the crime.
In the 1980’s there was a theory that argued that women could not be held responsible for their actions because of pre-menstrual tension. It was argued that pre-menstrual tension caused women to act irrational thus acting like they would not normally act (Moore, 1996).
Crimes committed by women may also go unreported because the victim might feel too embarrassed to report it, partially if the victim is male (law.jrank, n.d.). The male victim may be embarrassed and may feel that they may not be taken seriously because they were not in the position of power which is stereotypically held by a man. He may feel that he would get laughed at or treated differently to a woman if she was the victim to the same crime. Pollak (1950) found that prostitution and shoplifting weren’t often reported to the police thus just went unnoticed and did not become a reported statistic (cited in Moore 1996). Figures from The British Crime Survey (Cited in Moore, 2001) show that out of all crimes committed, 44% of all crimes were reported to the police and 24% of all crimes were recorded by the police. This leaves 32 % of crimes unaccounted for. These crimes could have been committed by women and were disregarded by the police or were just never mentioned against once committed.
There were few studies done on female crime traditionally and they mostly concentrated on discovering the difference between deviant and none deviant women. It had been assumed at the time that women were naturally less likely to commit crime in comparison to men. However, contemporary sociological theories have suggested four areas that may suggest why females commit relatively few crimes compared to males. (Moore, 1996). These four areas are:
• Different socialisation
• Stricter social control
• Fewer opportunities for women to commit crime
• Economic marginalisation.
Out of the four areas, economic marginalisation is to be what generates crime within women whilst the first three are suggestions about constraints on female crime.
When have few opportunities compared to men to plan intricate criminal plans unlike men. It is easier a woman to pick up a loaf of bread in a supermarket and hide it in a pram. It’s difficult to plan rob someone in the street whilst pushing a pram, but if a woman did manage to do it then no one would suspect her of doing the crime. People would perceive her as being naturally more law abiding than a man is perceived as less naturally law abiding, Heidensohn (cited in Moore, 2001). Women may also not hold the skills to be able to commit certain crimes whilst men o. For example, they may not have the technical knowledge to steal a car because they have no mechanical knowledge; they may not be able to commit an attack another computer with a virus because they don’t have any knowledge of computers and programming.
It has been stated by Chapman (1980, cited in Moore, 1996) that part of the reason for the increase in woman stealing is to do with social class. She stated that the women who are stealing form the bulk of the poor. This could be because they could not afford to provide completely for their families and had to result to other means to provide. Or it could be steamed from status frustration, the criminal could be stealing to give herself the illusion of having a better lifestyle and possibly create better opportunities for herself. In either case, the crime may not be reported because of possible implications to the business and the may not want the hassle of dealing with the police who may not find who did the crime. However after stealing, fraud is the second most common offence committed by women which may also be for the same reason.
In conclusion, there are several reasons for the lower rates in crime committed by females than males. The main reasons are fewer opportunities for women to commit crime because of either a lack of knowledge or previous commitments such as a family. Economic marginalisation is a second reason that could explain why there is a lower rate of female crime; they could be stealing to support a family. Though Economic marginalisation could also be a part of status frustration. The criminal could be rebelling against their social class by obtaining status symbols and that are above and beyond their means. Pollak’s theory of the statistics on female crime being misleading, could be the main reason for the lower rate of female crime. The statistics from The British Crime Survey does support Pollack’s theory as there are 32% of all crimes that were not reported to the police or recorded by the police which leaves it unknown to who committed these crimes. If these crimes were committed by women, then it could be because the victim was scared or embarrassed about what had happened.
In my opinion, it could be argued that the lower rates for female crime is because women are much more devious than men as they are to hide things easier from their partners and families, which is part of Pollak’s theory but there is not any statistical evidence to support the theory. In today’s society, Chapman’s theory of stealing was to do with social class is much more relevant to how we now live. We have become a society obsessed with status symbols even if they are above our means. Even though we are a modernised society we still have some of our old stereotypical views, especially when it comes to women; which could make it easier for women to get away with crimes and they are seen as being unable to do the crime they did for a number of reasons. With number of unreported crimes, it is unfair to rely on the statistics completely to claim that there are less females committing crimes than men as all the unreported crimes might be committed by women who could give women the higher amount of crimes committed.
References
Hms prison service, n.d. Female prisoners.[online] http://www.hmprisonservice.gov.uk/adviceandsupport/prison_life/femaleprisoners/ [Accessed 6th March 2011]
Pond, R, 1999. Introduction to Criminology. Winchester, Waterside Press.
Law.jrank, n.d. Gender crime explaining female offending [online] http://law.jrank.org/pages/1251/Gender-Crime-Explaining-female-offending.html [Accessed 7th March 2011]
Moore, S, 1996. Investigating Crime and Deviance. Second edition, London, HaperCollins Publishers ltd.
Moore, S, 2001. Sociology Alive! Third edition, Chr;tenham, Nelson Thornes Ltd.
Outline and discuss the main reasons given for lower rates of female crime.
“…if men behaved like women the courts would be idle and the prisons empty
Wooton (1959)” (Cited in Pond, 1999)
In this essay I am going to outline and discuss the reasons for lower rates of crime committed by females. There are several explanations for why women commit crime and why there are lower rates of crime. It has been generally believed that males will commit more crimes compared to females, and these crimes committed by females tend to relatively less serious than those committed by men (Pond, 1999). Females often commit crimes such as shoplifting, prostitution and perjury, crimes that can be argued, were committed to keep the family unit running. Though the numbers of females being imprisoned is fairly low, it has been increasing. In 1993 there number of women in prison on average was 1560. It then rose to around 4463 women in prison in June 2006. In June 2006 the number of women in prison only accounted for 5.7% of the prison population of England and Wales (hmprisonservice, n.d.).
However Otto Pollak (1950, cited in Pond, 1999) argued that the statistics on female crime were misleading because the crimes committed were under recorded. He stated that because the justice system is male dominated and taught to be chivalrous, that they are more lenient on women because of the chivalry trait they possess. With the men within the justice system being chivalrous and lenient towards female offenders, highlights the inequality in the system. If the justice system was female dominated it may not be so lenient towards men.
Pollak also believe that females were much more deceitful than males. Females are able to conceal their menstruation cycle and fake orgasms so they would be more able to hide their crimes. Though, the idea of women being able to hide crimes may work better for some crimes such as shop lifting than for others such as murder or assault. Women have the means to hide certain things in shop lifting easier than men do and people would not expect her to shop lift, especially if she has a pram with her. It could be argued that courts and police may not take female crime seriously, by arguing that she committed the crime for attention or because there is something wrong with her that is making her do the crime.
In the 1980’s there was a theory that argued that women could not be held responsible for their actions because of pre-menstrual tension. It was argued that pre-menstrual tension caused women to act irrational thus acting like they would not normally act (Moore, 1996).
Crimes committed by women may also go unreported because the victim might feel too embarrassed to report it, partially if the victim is male (law.jrank, n.d.). The male victim may be embarrassed and may feel that they may not be taken seriously because they were not in the position of power which is stereotypically held by a man. He may feel that he would get laughed at or treated differently to a woman if she was the victim to the same crime. Pollak (1950) found that prostitution and shoplifting weren’t often reported to the police thus just went unnoticed and did not become a reported statistic (cited in Moore 1996). Figures from The British Crime Survey (Cited in Moore, 2001) show that out of all crimes committed, 44% of all crimes were reported to the police and 24% of all crimes were recorded by the police. This leaves 32 % of crimes unaccounted for. These crimes could have been committed by women and were disregarded by the police or were just never mentioned against once committed.
There were few studies done on female crime traditionally and they mostly concentrated on discovering the difference between deviant and none deviant women. It had been assumed at the time that women were naturally less likely to commit crime in comparison to men. However, contemporary sociological theories have suggested four areas that may suggest why females commit relatively few crimes compared to males. (Moore, 1996). These four areas are:
• Different socialisation
• Stricter social control
• Fewer opportunities for women to commit crime
• Economic marginalisation.
Out of the four areas, economic marginalisation is to be what generates crime within women whilst the first three are suggestions about constraints on female crime.
When have few opportunities compared to men to plan intricate criminal plans unlike men. It is easier a woman to pick up a loaf of bread in a supermarket and hide it in a pram. It’s difficult to plan rob someone in the street whilst pushing a pram, but if a woman did manage to do it then no one would suspect her of doing the crime. People would perceive her as being naturally more law abiding than a man is perceived as less naturally law abiding, Heidensohn (cited in Moore, 2001). Women may also not hold the skills to be able to commit certain crimes whilst men o. For example, they may not have the technical knowledge to steal a car because they have no mechanical knowledge; they may not be able to commit an attack another computer with a virus because they don’t have any knowledge of computers and programming.
It has been stated by Chapman (1980, cited in Moore, 1996) that part of the reason for the increase in woman stealing is to do with social class. She stated that the women who are stealing form the bulk of the poor. This could be because they could not afford to provide completely for their families and had to result to other means to provide. Or it could be steamed from status frustration, the criminal could be stealing to give herself the illusion of having a better lifestyle and possibly create better opportunities for herself. In either case, the crime may not be reported because of possible implications to the business and the may not want the hassle of dealing with the police who may not find who did the crime. However after stealing, fraud is the second most common offence committed by women which may also be for the same reason.
In conclusion, there are several reasons for the lower rates in crime committed by females than males. The main reasons are fewer opportunities for women to commit crime because of either a lack of knowledge or previous commitments such as a family. Economic marginalisation is a second reason that could explain why there is a lower rate of female crime; they could be stealing to support a family. Though Economic marginalisation could also be a part of status frustration. The criminal could be rebelling against their social class by obtaining status symbols and that are above and beyond their means. Pollak’s theory of the statistics on female crime being misleading, could be the main reason for the lower rate of female crime. The statistics from The British Crime Survey does support Pollack’s theory as there are 32% of all crimes that were not reported to the police or recorded by the police which leaves it unknown to who committed these crimes. If these crimes were committed by women, then it could be because the victim was scared or embarrassed about what had happened.
In my opinion, it could be argued that the lower rates for female crime is because women are much more devious than men as they are to hide things easier from their partners and families, which is part of Pollak’s theory but there is not any statistical evidence to support the theory. In today’s society, Chapman’s theory of stealing was to do with social class is much more relevant to how we now live. We have become a society obsessed with status symbols even if they are above our means. Even though we are a modernised society we still have some of our old stereotypical views, especially when it comes to women; which could make it easier for women to get away with crimes and they are seen as being unable to do the crime they did for a number of reasons. With number of unreported crimes, it is unfair to rely on the statistics completely to claim that there are less females committing crimes than men as all the unreported crimes might be committed by women who could give women the higher amount of crimes committed.
References
Hms prison service, n.d. Female prisoners.[online] http://www.hmprisonservice.gov.uk/adviceandsupport/prison_life/femaleprisoners/ [Accessed 6th March 2011]
Pond, R, 1999. Introduction to Criminology. Winchester, Waterside Press.
Law.jrank, n.d. Gender crime explaining female offending [online] http://law.jrank.org/pages/1251/Gender-Crime-Explaining-female-offending.html [Accessed 7th March 2011]
Moore, S, 1996. Investigating Crime and Deviance. Second edition, London, HaperCollins Publishers ltd.
Moore, S, 2001. Sociology Alive! Third edition, Chr;tenham, Nelson Thornes Ltd.
Friday, 14 May 2010
One down, eleven to go
As I said in a previous post I am trying to do 12 new things before my 20th birthday next year, today I decided to try Sushi. This was a spur of the moment decision in Asda today when food shopping with my mum and brother.
(Sushi in the packaging, the photograph taken by myself)
(The sushi out of the packaging. 1, Cucumber hosomaki. 2, red pepper hosomaki. 3, Tuna and red pepper California roll. 4, Prawn California roll. 5, not a clue - Soy sauce maybe.)
I managed to eat the two pieces of hosomaki, they were fine. I had no problem with them. Then I picked up the prawn california roll. Baring in mind I don't really like fish. I was trying to open my horizons, try new things, including fish. You know when a baby sits out food it doesn't like, I did that, only less elegantly. Reaching out for my drink to flush away the fish taste. I didn't even attempt the Tuna and red pepper california. The prawn taste had put me off. I don't think in future I am going to eat sushi. Though this experience has made me more open to trying different types of fish, different ways of cooking fish.
The sushi experience was a good and bad one. I won't be eating Sushi again but I will be trying different types of fish. Has anyone else had any experiences with Sushi? Good or bad? It would be interesting to read the experiences of others with Sushi.
Sunday, 25 April 2010
List: Five Things That Inspire Me
Inspiration can come from anything and anyone. I have a list of many things that inspire me, some are deeply personal to me and some are extremely random. Living in a seaside town that has seen better days you can see the beauty that used to be there, it's inspires me to make something of my life. I think I would pull my hair out if I had to live there all my life. It is a nice place but it's a bit too dull for me, love the weather though as it's hardly ever sunny.
One - Music
Music is one of my biggest sources of influence and inspiration. I used to want to be a musician when I was younger along with a long list of other things. I never was the talented musician I wanted to be, I could hold a tune but I would never remember notes unless I had to sing the. All my life I have been surrounded by music. My dad used to play music all sort of music when I was a baby such as Madness, U2, Bon Jovi, etc. 80's rock music has played a big part of my life. Music has always been my escape as has writing and for me the two go hand in hand. Music is full of emotion, hope, desire, hatred. Anything can be portrayed through music.
The bands themselves in several cases have inspirited me. Band likes Muse and Lostprophets are 'home made' if you will and many people see that as their inspiration. For me it's the fact they come from small, almost unknown places. Muse come from a seaside town on the South West coast called Teignmouth and Lostprophets hail from a town just north of Cardiff called Pontypridd. I come from a small seaside town called Morecambe. It is relatively unknown, in my life time we have only been on the news once that I remember and that was 2004 when 21 Chinese cockle picker died. Muse and Lostprophets had a dream and they worked their socks off for it and now they are playing to thousands of people and are internationally known. It gives me hope that if I work for what I want I can achieve it, even if I come from an almost unknown place.
One - Music
Music is one of my biggest sources of influence and inspiration. I used to want to be a musician when I was younger along with a long list of other things. I never was the talented musician I wanted to be, I could hold a tune but I would never remember notes unless I had to sing the. All my life I have been surrounded by music. My dad used to play music all sort of music when I was a baby such as Madness, U2, Bon Jovi, etc. 80's rock music has played a big part of my life. Music has always been my escape as has writing and for me the two go hand in hand. Music is full of emotion, hope, desire, hatred. Anything can be portrayed through music.
The bands themselves in several cases have inspirited me. Band likes Muse and Lostprophets are 'home made' if you will and many people see that as their inspiration. For me it's the fact they come from small, almost unknown places. Muse come from a seaside town on the South West coast called Teignmouth and Lostprophets hail from a town just north of Cardiff called Pontypridd. I come from a small seaside town called Morecambe. It is relatively unknown, in my life time we have only been on the news once that I remember and that was 2004 when 21 Chinese cockle picker died. Muse and Lostprophets had a dream and they worked their socks off for it and now they are playing to thousands of people and are internationally known. It gives me hope that if I work for what I want I can achieve it, even if I come from an almost unknown place.
(Lostprophets, image from google images)
(Muse, Image from google Images)
Two – Being the bigger person
Pretty through the whole of my schooling I have been bullied for various things. I have been bullied for various things including the fact I am ginger, I'm half German, I did well in school and I would get involved in school things like student counsel and open evenings. It might be surprising for some people but apart from the bullying school was hard for me. I had to work hard to understand things, I struggled to read aloud – my eyes and brain worked faster than my mouth so my words would crash into each other, and half the time I was too stubborn to admit if I needed help. Being bullied meant I had to learn to be the bigger person and I have. If someone calls me names, I ignore them. Being bullied has inspired me to work harder, to achieve the things I want to do. For me being bullied was partly a positive experience, just because it gave me the desire to work towards a goal not to focus on the negatives of my appearance that one person sees.
Three – My family
My family are the most random, unique and special people I know. I consider myself very lucky to know them. We are all different generations and from different places in the world. There are so many stories within my family that are very inspiring and interesting. An example is my Great Grandfather who fought in WW2 and received a medal for his bravery, for saving the lives of his unit risking his own in the process. You don't hear of stories like that often, you'll see a film based on WW2 where something similar happens but to know a man like that is amazing. Words can't explain how lucky and in awe I feel just to know, let alone be related to someone so selfless.
My family are a wonderful source of influence and inspiration. Without them I wouldn't be the person I am today.
Four - Outside my bubble
The outside world is a curious place. The world in the nineteen years I have been living has changed so much. When I was a child the internet and computers wasn't a big thing. Now at nineteen, computers are a big things, even my Nanna has one and knows how to use it though she does sometimes need help. The world my Grandparents, my mum and my dad grew up in is so different to the world I grew up in. I've basically grown up in fiction. Look at the world and tell me that is not George Orwell's 1984 outside. We're watched, controlled and monitored. Thirty years ago that was unheard of.
We're living in a world that is becoming ever more volatile because we are using and abusing it. We've taken too much from it and now it's lashing back. Many, many people have lost their values. We're money and material obsessed. We want things and we want them now. We want, we use, we break, we dump and then we start the cycle again.
Watching the hate between people; the friction again law and citizens; religion against science; right versus wrong, is a source of inspiration. Makes me think of the 'what ifs'. What if there was no science? What if law didn't exist? What if every right was actually a wrong? What if we didn't actually thing for ourselves? What if we were programmed?
Take a minute and think about it. Stand back and think about what you see, it's interesting to say the least.
Five – Imagine a place where you can soar like an eagle and swim like a fish.
Dreams. With dreams you can be anyone, do anything. Dreams to me are interesting, they can inspire and confuse at the same time. In a dream you can do and believe things that in your conscious state are impossible to do. Dreams provoke ideas; give you the chance to see something from a different view point. In a dream you are free from the normality and control of daily life.
Two – Being the bigger person
Pretty through the whole of my schooling I have been bullied for various things. I have been bullied for various things including the fact I am ginger, I'm half German, I did well in school and I would get involved in school things like student counsel and open evenings. It might be surprising for some people but apart from the bullying school was hard for me. I had to work hard to understand things, I struggled to read aloud – my eyes and brain worked faster than my mouth so my words would crash into each other, and half the time I was too stubborn to admit if I needed help. Being bullied meant I had to learn to be the bigger person and I have. If someone calls me names, I ignore them. Being bullied has inspired me to work harder, to achieve the things I want to do. For me being bullied was partly a positive experience, just because it gave me the desire to work towards a goal not to focus on the negatives of my appearance that one person sees.
Three – My family
My family are the most random, unique and special people I know. I consider myself very lucky to know them. We are all different generations and from different places in the world. There are so many stories within my family that are very inspiring and interesting. An example is my Great Grandfather who fought in WW2 and received a medal for his bravery, for saving the lives of his unit risking his own in the process. You don't hear of stories like that often, you'll see a film based on WW2 where something similar happens but to know a man like that is amazing. Words can't explain how lucky and in awe I feel just to know, let alone be related to someone so selfless.
My family are a wonderful source of influence and inspiration. Without them I wouldn't be the person I am today.
Four - Outside my bubble
The outside world is a curious place. The world in the nineteen years I have been living has changed so much. When I was a child the internet and computers wasn't a big thing. Now at nineteen, computers are a big things, even my Nanna has one and knows how to use it though she does sometimes need help. The world my Grandparents, my mum and my dad grew up in is so different to the world I grew up in. I've basically grown up in fiction. Look at the world and tell me that is not George Orwell's 1984 outside. We're watched, controlled and monitored. Thirty years ago that was unheard of.
We're living in a world that is becoming ever more volatile because we are using and abusing it. We've taken too much from it and now it's lashing back. Many, many people have lost their values. We're money and material obsessed. We want things and we want them now. We want, we use, we break, we dump and then we start the cycle again.
Watching the hate between people; the friction again law and citizens; religion against science; right versus wrong, is a source of inspiration. Makes me think of the 'what ifs'. What if there was no science? What if law didn't exist? What if every right was actually a wrong? What if we didn't actually thing for ourselves? What if we were programmed?
Take a minute and think about it. Stand back and think about what you see, it's interesting to say the least.
Five – Imagine a place where you can soar like an eagle and swim like a fish.
Dreams. With dreams you can be anyone, do anything. Dreams to me are interesting, they can inspire and confuse at the same time. In a dream you can do and believe things that in your conscious state are impossible to do. Dreams provoke ideas; give you the chance to see something from a different view point. In a dream you are free from the normality and control of daily life.
Wednesday, 21 April 2010
The beauty in the despair.
In the last few days there has been a panic descending over British holiday makers over volcanic ash from the Icelandic volcano.
I don't know how the rest of Europe has dealt with the volcanic ash invading the air space. Hundreds of flights in Britain have been cancelled, thousands of holiday makers have been stranded, children have been unable to attend school for being stuck in a foreign country and adults have been unable to work. Though I don't think I would argue over having a couple more days away.
Many people have complained about something no one has any control over. Is a little bit of volcanic ash really something to complain over? Surely you should be more concerned over your safety and your life than something as materialistic as a holiday, something you will forget in a few weeks, a few months, it won't keep you warm when you elderly. At least your life is something that you can cherish.
Watching the news it got me thinking, there has to be something positive in all this. Even if it was just something small like a baby born on top of the volcano or a terrorist attack gone wrong because of the ash. Then I came across these photographs.
These images are breath taking, I am amazed by them. This is beautifully distubing, how something that has created so much chaos from so far away can create such beautiful imagery.
I don't know how the rest of Europe has dealt with the volcanic ash invading the air space. Hundreds of flights in Britain have been cancelled, thousands of holiday makers have been stranded, children have been unable to attend school for being stuck in a foreign country and adults have been unable to work. Though I don't think I would argue over having a couple more days away.
Many people have complained about something no one has any control over. Is a little bit of volcanic ash really something to complain over? Surely you should be more concerned over your safety and your life than something as materialistic as a holiday, something you will forget in a few weeks, a few months, it won't keep you warm when you elderly. At least your life is something that you can cherish.
Watching the news it got me thinking, there has to be something positive in all this. Even if it was just something small like a baby born on top of the volcano or a terrorist attack gone wrong because of the ash. Then I came across these photographs.
(Image 1&2 from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2010_eruptions_of_Eyjafjallaj%C3%B6kull
Image 3 from: http://www.earthshots.org/2010/03/eyjafjallajokull-eruption-by-orvaratli/)
Image 3 from: http://www.earthshots.org/2010/03/eyjafjallajokull-eruption-by-orvaratli/)
These images are breath taking, I am amazed by them. This is beautifully distubing, how something that has created so much chaos from so far away can create such beautiful imagery.
Friday, 9 April 2010
List: 20 things to achieve before I turn 20
So I am now officially 19 years of age. Following on from my list of 19 things I've yet to achieve, I am going to write a list of 20 things I want to achieve before next year.
- I want to vote this year. I could vote last year but I wasn't registered
- Read at least 10 books
- Make one item of clothing, even if it is customised. I'm not a huge fan of the consumer sheep trend amongst many teenagers these days.
- Learn more in German
- To work much harder - I am a hard worker when it comes to my college work but I want to work harder.
- Lose things less
- Be neater
- Be more organised
- Stop procastinating
- Read more than just fiction
- Blog more regularly
- Blog about more than just myself. Blog about other things such as the upcoming UK election. ect
- Write more articles and complete already started ones
- Complete my novel
- Not go to the hospital. I am accident prone
- Get back into politics more.
- By a paper at least once a week
- Take more care in my appearance. Rolling our of bed, having a shower, putting on whatever is clean and leaving the house is not taking care of my appearance.
- Be more open to trying new things, try one new things every month
- Get a decent hair cut
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Hello there!
Hello there!
I am Madeleine or Maddie, I respond to either most of the time. The blog has actually been up a while but I've never posted. I also had three other blogs which I deleted because I didn't like them, hopefully I won't lose interest again. I shouldn't do, I like the name of this blog.
You may have noticed the URL says gingernutsnaps and you may think this is slightly weird but it's not. I am a red head, more commonly a ginger, a gingger (ging-ger) or a ginger ninja - I kid you not, I have been called that and more. I am slightly nuts and I went through a faze of snapping my food in have. If you put it all together you get: Ginger-nut-snaps or more commonly gingernutsnaps.
Hmm...I wonder if you could actually get ginger ninjas, they'd stick out a little more than ninjas in all black.
Have fun
Madeleine
I am Madeleine or Maddie, I respond to either most of the time. The blog has actually been up a while but I've never posted. I also had three other blogs which I deleted because I didn't like them, hopefully I won't lose interest again. I shouldn't do, I like the name of this blog.
You may have noticed the URL says gingernutsnaps and you may think this is slightly weird but it's not. I am a red head, more commonly a ginger, a gingger (ging-ger) or a ginger ninja - I kid you not, I have been called that and more. I am slightly nuts and I went through a faze of snapping my food in have. If you put it all together you get: Ginger-nut-snaps or more commonly gingernutsnaps.
Hmm...I wonder if you could actually get ginger ninjas, they'd stick out a little more than ninjas in all black.
Have fun
Madeleine
List: 19 things I haven't achieved so far
You know how people have lists of 30 things they want to do before they turn 30, I don't have one of those just for the simple reason I lose lists. I lose bits of paper so easily. To stop lose things I usually email things to myself - that is the bonus of having more than one email address - or I text it to myself.
Instead of writing a long boring list of 19 things I have done before my 19th birthday I have decided to write a list of 19 things I have yet to achieve in the hope I can cross off at least one before I turn 20 next year, it's unlikely but hey who knows what might happen by then.
Darn! I'm rambling again.
Happy ...erm... whatever day of the week you read this.
Madeleine
Instead of writing a long boring list of 19 things I have done before my 19th birthday I have decided to write a list of 19 things I have yet to achieve in the hope I can cross off at least one before I turn 20 next year, it's unlikely but hey who knows what might happen by then.
- I haven't really learnt anything usual in German - knowing the words for chocolate, cheese and pasta may have been useful when I was younger but they aren't any longer. I know maybe three sentences in German, I will attempt to learn more at some point.
- I haven't travelled far - Asking me where I've been on holiday in the last 10 years will pretty much be pointless, I've never been anywhere exotic, any where with a proper beach (I'm sorry but Morecambe beach is not a beach and Blackpool beach barely passes as a beach really) I have never seen a palm tree in an area where palm trees actually come from. I've never been on a plane for more than 2 hours, Germany is only 2 hours away by plane and that is the only place I really holiday to.
- I've not had a 'real' teenage experience. You are reading that correctly, I never drank underage, I never got arrested, I never had a detention for being bad - taking my jumper off and complaining to myself when I got stuck is not me being naughty. I never had a house party, I was never out late. I never had the experience many teens call the 'real' teenage experience, to be frank I was happy reading and learning random facts.
- I've not really read the classics - Like Many people I love a good book but I am a slow reader - even worse if you ask me to read aloud, my brain works faster than my eyes and mouth do. Sometimes I struggle to get into a book or even worse I forget I'm reading a book and that has happened before
- I'm still a messy person - I try to be neater but end up losing things. Must try harder to be neater, my room looks like a disaster zone, I know have to hand out hard hats and guide ropes to people who enter my tiny room that is like 6ft by 9ft.
- I am also rather disorganised - every year I try with a diary but come February I either lose it or forget but I keep trying
- I can't stop losing something everyday - I misplace everything all the time. I keep trying to stop losing things but I can't.
- I haven't stopped rambling - I ramble all the time, I make no sense what so ever half the time.
- I'm almost 19 and I can't really cook for myself - Until a few months ago being about to cook pasta and put cheese on it would have done me fine until I started being not well whenever I ate cheese
- I can't stop worrying - I go on a bus, I worry it will crash. I go on a plane and I list and ask about everything even the most absurd thing that could go wrong. I get a cold and I say I'm dying.
- I haven't managed a normal sleeping pattern - I am a very odd person in that I work best at night. I can write stories at night, cook at night. The thing is when you have to get up at the ungodly hour of 7 in the morning being up late does not help.
- I haven't managed one full calendar year without a hospital visit - I am accident prone. I walk into things, I drop things on my head, I am just a idiot full stop. I got whiplash from an Orange, yes I got whiplash from a piece for fruit!
- I haven't managed to think before I speak - speaks for it's self does that. I speak first, think later.
- I can't stop fidgeting - I move all the time, I'll slide up and down my chair, tap my foot, drum my fingers. It drives people crazy
- I don't really live in the real world - Have you ever seen Scrubs? I kinda like J.D. I go off into my own little world in my head.
- I haven't managed to finish a single story I've ever written - I don't know why, just haven't.
- I keep putting things off when I shouldn't
- I can't stop replying with 'smart' answers
- I am incredibly impatient - I hate waiting, I think everything (Ok, most things) should be done in 30 seconds flat or they aren't worth it
Darn! I'm rambling again.
Happy ...erm... whatever day of the week you read this.
Madeleine
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