February 26th: The stealing of the Mac...

So I'm just chilling with Cora's Mac while she's in the shower and it occurred to me that I could use the time to post here on the blog - since I did tell everyone I'd write about what an amazing time I'm having to make you all jealous.

Just kidding. But I do have a lot to tell you - these past two days have been, on a scale of one to ten, 92947386184678146731461846184646 times amazing. (That's an insanely long number. Just thought I'd state the obvious and point that out. Innit.)

So here I am in Denmark. It's snowy here - though it's melting fast - and I have been heroically resisting the urge to throw snowballs at Cora since she protested so profusely... and then she went and threw one at me. Nice.

Naturally I threw one or two back. I mean it would be rude to let such a cry for attention go unanswered.

So on Thursday I arrived about ten o'clock (getting up at four in the morning was SO worth it) and we went into Copenhagen and basically shopped. Since we went shopping again yesterday, I have basically no money, but hey, I do have some fabulous new clothes. And I've been saving for this trip since I was like, twelve, so.

Hello peeps (god I hate how people use that word. But I'm using it now as I'm not Molly and thought I should make you all aware of it.)...
Molly will kill me for my horrid punctuation xD
So I'm the knob Molly's been spending time with "here in Denmark" aka Cora the freaky Dane.
Btw would it be completely rude of me if I kept her and never gave her back? I mean she's rude but also the cutest grammar freak I've ever met (well she's the only grammar freak I've met...)
I know she's been "complaining" about how I threw snow at her but you have no idea what she can get up to. Well some of you might now what I'm talking about, like twitter raping you xD
Molly Ellen freaking Turner you're amazing and I really don't want to let you go! Maybe I should just lock the door to the bathroom... Better not as you'd have to stand there all naked :P Okay so that's not true you've got towels and clothes with you. Why am I even writing this? I'm boring and really not funny at all. By the way Miss T you owe me money MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
*cough, cough* damn those evil laughs they're are killer on ones throat.
Molly why did we get hold of so much candy? The coffee table is practically overflowing with candy and empty cans...
Oh ooh... Molly just turned off the water, which means she'll soon be back. I'll let you in on a little secret; she asked me to do this xD "Wouldn't it be fun if you wrote in my blog post" and naturally as I'm such an obliging person I have done as she requested.
Though I didn't completely follow her instructions hehehehehehehhe... 
Wicked was ozmazing but it's nothing compared to the London show. Oh she got out now so I'll end it here. Sorry for my boring pooness.
Cora signing out now, see you peeps (again I hate that expression).


And I, the knob to whom this blog belongs, have returned from the dead (the shower was that scary). 


(Random point: right now we're watching Spongebob Squarepants in Danish. It's kind of strange - but then I'm getting used to seeing things I know well in English in Danish instead. X Factor was particularly strange.)


I hope you enjoyed Cora's input to the blog.... as you can see, she's got a very different writing style to me so you can probably tell whose writing is whose.


So on Thursday, we actually met one of our friends from YouTube - Julie, or JulieOfSurburbia as she's commonly known. She's one of the sweetest girls I've ever met and it was awesome to see her in real life - though strange to get used to her face not being behind a screen.  But it was great and I'm really glad we did it, since she's an amazing person and so lovely. :)


So as Cora said, we saw Wicked. In Danish. It was actually pretty awesome. Obviously the way they did it was very different to how it is in London; they used TV screens placed around the top of the stage to set the scene, since the stage was smaller, but they also adapted it in really great ways. For example, during Defying Gravity, the arm Elphaba was on moved around the stage so she "flew" rather than just hanging there. They also actually included Dorothy - you could see her throwing the water over Elphaba. It was actually really good and the fact that I only understood a few words didn't make it hard for me to know what was going on; I guess after seeing the show four times you kind of get to know the storyline pretty well.


So I have to go now, but I'll be back probably when I go home (nooooo, don't want to go home) to force the rest of my awesome time here in Denmark upon you. Sorry for the crappiness of my writing in this post but alas, that is what happens when I have a lot to say and I want to write it all down before I forget it.


Toodles, bloglings!


Molly x


Have realized 'knob' rhymes with 'blog'. Could I call this the 'knobblog'? Would that have two Bs? Knobblog? Knoblog? Hmm.

February 20th: The writer is her reader's character.

I start writing this post topic-less, title-less and bored, so I doubt anything good will come of it but like I said, I'm bored. I'm procrastinating. I've never wished half term away before but as far as I'm concerned, Thursday can't come soon enough. And I'm well aware that by posting something new the day after my last post, a lot of you won't have read the aforementioned previous update and therefore will be a little confused as to why Thursday can't come soon enough.

So my suggestion is: tear your eyes away from my writing, - I know it's hard, I'm brilliant like that (not) - scroll down, and enlighten yourselves about the exciting Thursday (and indeed Friday, Saturday and Sunday) I've got planned.

Go on, I can see you still reading. Naughty.

Or, if you can't be bothered, you can just stay here and read whatever crap I'm about to spout. See, I've got this feeling, and I don't know what it is, and right now, making a playlist of 'writing music' so I can update my blog about a miscellaneous, undefined feeling which I may or may not have seems more important than redrafting my history coursework so I can get a good grade in history and consequently get into university.

So. Writing. Writing, writing, writing. I wonder what it is about knowing that people are reading that makes us adapt what we say and what we write and how we act... it's almost like we're ashamed to let people see our true selves, our talents. There are things I've written which nobody will ever see and they're all so much better than this crap I put out on the internet for any old random person to stumble across. And why? Why shouldn't I want my very best things out there? Why should I fear people seeing what I can do? When I put things on YouTube I know it's because I'm not that great a singer and maybe I'm scared of a negative reaction, but why would anybody react badly to my writing? Not because it's brilliant, but simply because it's writing; there is no reason for anybody to hate it. When you hate a song, you either dislike the melody or the voice - when you're reading, unless the writing is really terrible, you only notice the subject. That's the thing about good writing: they say it should be unnoticeable, so that all you can identify with is the character's emotion and story. Obviously with blogs it's different, because what you're reading here is my voice. I am not telling you fiction - most of the time I'm not even telling you non-fiction. I'm telling you feelings. I'm telling you thoughts. I try to write as honestly as I can here so that reading it is like being inside my brain, but still I'm aware that my every word will be digested. So, without meaning to be, I'm a character. I'm your character. You see me as you wish to see me; you see me as I choose to portray myself. You're only ever getting my side of my story, no matter how honest I try to be. Getting into university is hard, but I don't work as hard as I should. Freddie is more talented than I am, but he tries more things. And I know I'm not bad at everything. I have talents just like everybody else does, but somehow this blog always catches me on my bad days - probably because on my good days I never feel like I have any reason to write. People are sympathetic to and interested by other people's woes, but bored by their happiness. But I'm not writing for an audience here... right? I started out writing for myself, and myself only, but I'm not writing merely for myself anymore.

I can't imagine why anybody else should find my 'story' - if you can call drifting along like I am a 'story' - interesting - I don't. But so many people have said school days are the best days of your life and if that's true, I want to remember them.

They were wrong, anyway. School sucked. College has been great, or at least it would have been if I hadn't got some kind of anxiety disorder last January. And yes, I'm aware that's the first time I've admitted as much here on the blog but I used to hate saying it. Now I don't mind it so much... so many people know that I figure you all might as well know too. That 'code' I wrote about a few months ago was supposed to be helpful, because people wouldn't know what I meant when I said I was fine and they wouldn't make me explain. But now I've explained it, people know it, so I may as well just say what I mean. But actually I like it if people ask me if I'm okay because it shows they care, and that they know, and that they remember - and that's what true friendship is. You're supposed to know what's wrong with your friends. You're supposed to know when they need a hug and you're supposed to help. At least, that's how I try to act with my friends. I try to show them I know them, and I know not everybody works like that but there really is nothing like knowing that people care about you.

I'm not claiming in any way that my life so far has been that difficult, though of course I've had hard times, like everyone does. But I think that whatever awful thing you're going through really does make you stronger, massively cliched though it is. It gives you perspective, and it gives you compassion, and it gives you strength, empathy, sympathy. I would even go as far as to say that it gives you a deeper understanding of the world, because I used to look at people and wish I was them, wish I had their perfect lives. Now I can't look at anyone without wondering if they're as normal as they look, because I know I look normal and I'm not. I went through the worst stage probably late last summer and into winter, and now I hope I'm getting better, but it affects me worst of all in English lessons (I know. Of all the places, right?) and all I wanted to was to be able to sit there, bored, in a lesson. I couldn't allow myself to be bored, because I had to be alert all the time. I was scared of losing control of myself. And it's more than that, but to be bored is such a simple thing and I couldn't have it. I want what people don't even realize they have; normality. And it made me lose all interest in everything. My attendance was slipping because I was afraid of going to English incase I had a panic attack, I was afraid of exams for the same reason and revision didn't seem important because all I could think of was will I be okay in the exam? And I was embarrassed to tell anyone besides my friends so everyone thought I just couldn't be bothered to turn up to my lessons. People think anxiety is nothing - just nerves, perhaps, but they don't realize I'm not stressed. I don't feel the reason I have this. They don't know the way you're hyperaware of yourself and of everything you're feeling, they don't know the random pains you get, they don't know how you get scared of going to your favourite lessons days beforehand.

I know quite a few of my friends 'in real life' read this, and that I'll probably regret posting it at some point in the future, but right now I don't care. Maybe people should know, maybe then they would understand why I do some of the things I do. People tend to adapt; they find their own ways of dealing with things and yes, my methods of coping with this aren't always the most sensible thing to do but I'm doing my best. I'm getting there.

And now I'll stop my little rant. I guess all I really mean is that nobody's perfect. Nobody's normal. So even if you think they are, just stop and give them the benefit of the doubt sometimes.

Molly x

February 20th: Doctor Who, Denmark and daft amounts of brackets.

It's been quite a while since I last wrote, or at least it feels that way... it's only really been a couple of weeks. I guess it seems like longer because the amount of times I've sat here with my fingers tapping at the keyboard, trying to come up with something of a tiny bit of interest to say (and failing) is ridiculous. I've got about ten drafts in my Edit Posts page all saying pretty much the same thing, all ending up with me stopping after I've written about this much and reading them through and thinking God, this is boring. Who's going to want to read that? Because like Hannah said in one of her tweets once, it's not that blogging is hard, it's just that I bore me... should I put that out there for the world to see?

(The answer, in her case, is hell yes. She may bore herself but everyone else loves her.)

My lack of updates hasn't been due to a lack of a subject though. I've certainly got a lot to say (and will probably do so in my typical manner of using far too many words to describe a simple thing... really must stop doing that. Word limits hate me.)

So first of all, I am now learning to drive. And it's amazing. Like really amazing. I've had two lessons and a bit of road-terrorizing going on round where I live (twenty miles per hour... I am such a badass) and I haven't crashed yet... yet being the operative word. Though according to my mum, I'm instinctively good at it. (A load of crap, but nice to hear.)

(Wow, I like brackets. I've only written three paragraphs and the brackets are out in force. Are they stalking me?)

Also, now it's half term and tomorrow I'm orf to Devon to visit my step-grandad and the South-African-wife-he-married-in-secret-last-June-eighteen-months-after-my-nana-died-and-whom-I-didn't-much-like-at-first-but-now-I-do. Innit. My dad's family is complicated. But they're fun and Devon's great, even if I have been there 2156843373000000 times and don't really appreciate it that much anymore. But there's an open day for one of the Plymouth universities - the one I applied to - on Wednesday and since Plymouth is in Devon, we considered it useful to crash with the grandparents while we were there. I'm really hoping I like the uni, since the town is amazing and the entry requirements are practically nothing. Having said that... it would be so embarrassing if I didn't even get the grades for that. Oh, how complicated all this uni business is!

Also, I have just realized my dad's speaking in an Australian accent on the phone. Who on Earth is he talking to?!

So Devon's a four hour drive from home and I assume we'll be home around eight on Wednesday evening, which is fine because that means I can go to bed early ready for getting up at four the next morning to grace Heathrow airport with my presence because I'm going to Denmaaaaaark! Woooo! Finally I get to see Cora again... August to February is a long long time and I miss her! But on Thursday morning I am getting the earliest flight possible and I should be there at 9:45AM... assuming the snow the wonderful Danes are supposed to be getting doesn't delay me and it bloody better not. And then we're spending the day in Copenhagen and seeing our friend Julie, who lives there (and whose name I will definitely pronounce wrong) and THEN we're seeing Wicked... in Danish. So I'm going to see my favourite musical, in my favourite language, in my favourite country, with my favourite person. Epic, right? And the fact that I don't speak Danish is just a small inconvenience. Since this is my fifth time seeing Wicked I'm hoping that I know the storyline well enough to follow anyway. I'm so excited! And I can't wait to hear what the songs are like in Danish - actually the good thing about it is that I can understand some Danish but not enough to annoy me if the songs are translated badly. Which they won't be, because Denmark's awesome.

And then I'm staying there until Sunday and on Monday I have college. Talk about coming back to reality with a bump. And just to add insult to injury, I have two pieces of coursework due in on the first day back.

So all in all, life's good. Except oh God, results day is in eighteen days... craaaaap. I have so failed everything! Well. I've so failed history. English not so much. But I doubt I got what I needed. Anyway, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Wow. I have actually finished a blog post! Amazing. Oh and I really should mention this:

This is my Adipose. Any Doctor Who fans out there? Cora got this for me and it's so adorable! It's a stress ball so it's squishy and kind of sticky and it's got a tooth. Honestly, I have never seen anything so cute. It's even got toes! And you can hold its hand. Adorable.

And yes, you can see one of my post-it notes from my English revision on the wall. I believe that particular post-it was talking about 'backing' - when a vowel is pronounced towards the back of the mouth.

So there's your random pointless fact. You really do learn something new everyday. Hmm, maybe I should make it a regular feature... a random pointless fact in every post.

Anyway, I'm going to leave you to it now, my beloved bloglings. Have fun and I'll hopefully bore you again soon with a long-winded account of everything that's happening this week.

Molly x

Also, Cora bought two massive packets of chocolate M&Ms for when I go there. See, this is why I love her.

February 9th: If only enthusiasm were enough...

If enthusiasm could get you what you want and need out of life, I'd be getting As in English, flights between Denmark and England would be free, and Becky could probably fabricate a degree in Grey's Anatomy out of thin air with her bare hands. If excitement or anticipation could set you up and send you on your way, I'd be recieving unconditional offers from my universities instead of conditional ones. If positive thinking really worked, I'd have passed every exam I'd ever taken with the top mark possible. If self-belief wasn't overrated... well, maybe we'd all have a better incentive to believe in ourselves.

See, I'm currently researching and collecting data for my English coursework. English coursework which is an incredibly exciting assignment considering I would ideally like to be a linguist; it's a language investigation where we get to choose anything we like (to do with language - which you can relate pretty much anything to) and... well, investigate it. This is what linguists do. This is my opportunity to find something that nobody has ever seen before and study it and come up with a hypothesis and an analysis and maybe someday those textbooks that occupy my classroom will be quoting me instead of the other way round.

I picked Second Language Acquisition (pretty self-explanatory but for those of you who aren't English nerds/don't know me, it's when you learn a second language)... a risky choice, considering it's a topic we don't actually cover at this stage of English Language education (it's pretty much my top choice of things to study at uni) and I've been talking to my auntie about it, since she's a teacher and she studied that as part of her degree. She says I sound extremely enthusiastic - now if only 'enthusiastic' was readable as 'really freaking awesome and guaranteed an A because it's the best idea out of everybody in the whole of the country for A2 English Language coursework'. If only I were good enough to get that elusive A! I have actually given up on getting my A now. I took my AS exam three times to try and get something better than a B, but it didn't happen, so I don't hold out much hope for getting an A at A2. To be honest I'd be happy with a B this year. Why is that, hmm? Last year I got Bs without even trying and I didn't appreciate it, and this year I'm just hoping I did well enough to get a B so I don't have to retake the exam.

But I don't care about that anymore. It's just that English has always been 'my' thing - the thing I'm good at... the only thing I'm good at. And if I can't get an A, if I can't be the best, then what else? Why does everybody else get something at which they're brilliant and amazing and talented - the best - and not me? I just wish I could kick butt at something, you know? Still. That wasn't what I came here to talk about.

I came here to use this magical invention we know and love as the internet to reach out to you all. See, I need victims. Um, I mean... volunteers. Usually, if somebody wants to look at your language skills, they want you to be fluent, yes? Not this time. I'm trying to determine when exactly you become 'fluent' in your acquisition of a second language - I want to see when you start using grammatical features like modal auxiliaries (will, shall etc), prepositions (about, in etc); and what words you use to describe certain things. So basically, I need non-native speakers of English at all stages - especially Danish people please, but everybody is welcome. I know it can be embarrassing speaking a language to a native speaker of that language - trust me, I know - but I promise you I find this fascinating and I think anybody with even the slightest grasp of language is amazing, especially those who speak more than one, no matter how basic your skills may be.

This would probably be a good place to add that I can not speak any other language but English, and even though I consider myself to have a fairly strong grasp of language - it's just one language. Is it better, do you think, to have a brilliant grasp of the structure of one language or a good or mediocre grasp of two or more? When you think about it, even having the ability to speak one language is amazing: words are stored in our brains and we can retrieve them whenever we feel the urge to construct a sentence; and we can construct a sentence, not just with words, but with the correct word order, the correct prefixes and suffixes, the correct grammar in general. When we're writing, we know which way to arrange the letters within the words so that they make sense; we know which way to put the words so we don't say the complete opposite of what we mean. The average person speaks approximately 38,000 words per day and around 200 words per minute and we never run out of things to say. Amazing, right?

So please, if you're reading this and you're not English and you are at any stage whatsoever of English language learning, please get in touch with me if you feel like taking part in this investigation. It's only for college, so it's nothing massive, but I need people or I'll never get that A I pretend not to care about... and you wouldn't want to be responsible for the downfall of my education, would you?

Thank you in advance!

Molly x