All those evenings spent disappointed on dancefloors

I can’t believe I only have one more week of school left, then it’s study leave for exams – and then I sign out forever and ever on December 1st, and it’s goodbye college, hello summer, university! At around this time of year for the past two years in a row, I’ve blogged about going through Leavers’ Concert and counting down how it will be my turn soon – and it was, on the last week of last term. I’m not sure, maybe because it’s still so raw, unfinished, an unsatisfied ending to what was meant to be a climatic evening, that I don’t want to talk about it…. yet. Just at the moment, prizegiving is coming up on Thursday. Despite a nomination for the girls cultural cup, I’m not expecting anything; though I’m sure I will still hold my breath for a split second, regardless.

I’m disappointed that I haven’t had any new epiphanies, nothing worthy of writing a huge tangent about. My sleeping pattern for the past week has been pretty much: sleep at 3 or 4am, get up at 7-something, go to school, come home and sleep until either dinner or hockey time, repeat. It’s been bizarre.

In contrasting matters, I had a little article in the Fringe Indie Magazine – I’m hoping that they will go through with previous plans of printing it, so i can have one sent. It’s not a biggie, but a nice sentiment, something new to try my hand at.

Published in small print

Even though all the gigs listed in the Groove Guide are on the internet with greater detail, I always make a point of stopping by Burger Fuel or the Rock Shop for a printed copy. I like to tuck it next to my month-old lotto ticket and floating coin in my bag; that is, on the rare, but growing occasions that I carry a bag at all.

The large disappointment that comes with this entire ordeal, however, is the fact that they mispelt my name on the photo page – sure they got it right under “Contributors” elsewhere, but, who on earth spells “Amanda” wrong?! I actually expected my last name to be mispelt, as usual, but I guess stupid things like this always have a tendency of happening to me. Alas, this will not be the end of my life on print.

I’m a thief, you can tell by my fingers

It’s almost 2am, for what seems like the thousandth day in a row. I’m in dire need of sleep. I don’t think I’ve slept before 2am for over two weeks and it’s getting ridiculous. My body doesn’t understand what keeps my mind awake so late into the best hours of the twenty-four.

First period A Level English was turbulent this morning. I would have said that I don’t remember the last time I felt so upset via txt/phone messages, except just then I recalled a certain psychotic ex-boyfriend. Regardless, an issue arose which I honestly should have thought through carefully – I mean for goodness sake my mother’s a photographer, I should know better than to be the source to two publications’ photos at the same concert. Sure, I was approached by the band in regards to the second one, but I should have known better. Talk about overwhelmed. The rest of gig pics are here though.

Thankfully that’s behind me now, and I have one last weekend to enjoy with the imminent thought of exams and auditions and tournament week hanging over my head; I don’t think that thoroughly qualifies as “enjoy” except I plan on getting mildly intoxicated enough at a gig I’m photographing this coming Saturday. I would plug it and stick up a poster and all… but no one locally relevant reads my blog except for the odd friend so what’s the point?

Anyway, I’m up here at Cheese on Toast now:

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