(no subject)

I mean sometime to post the poem I wrote on my Psion today here, but I can't be bothered to go through to the other room right now (I have to hook the Psion up to aivas 'cos I also can't be bothered to mess around with this computer's serial port, tucked away as it is.) It's about Angela, 'cos of the memorial service thing we had today (last thing on a Friday to let us all go home miserable, *thanks* guys, obviously they didn't want us missing work 'cos we were miserable...). I was just affected by the general mood tho; I usually can't stay depressed for long, anyway, except if there's a constant reminder of the reasons.

So generally, apart from this afternoon's events, I'm cheery again. When I got home my mum fed me some chocolate, which always helps, and... well, the rest is in the Psion, when I finally copy out the bits I want. Should I force LJ into posting them retrospectively, or post them in one chunk when I get them? I think more ppl will read them the second way, although the first would make for better records.

Today a funny thing happened at school that I'd like to recount to break the spell of doom and gloom hanging over most of my LJ: Sophie Hammonds got The Dreaded Lurgy in Chemistry. She was sitting next to me demonstrating the fact that the biology investigation she'd just rushed to finish had completely fried her brain when I noticed she had lots of little spots of dead skin on her hand. She looked at them curiously, insisted they hadn't been there before, and then she rubbed her eyes... mistake. After hurridly asking the Chemistry teacher if anything was likely to have been spilt on the desk (the teacher said 'No, we haven't done any praticals in ages! but go and wash your hands and eyes anyway... the benches don't get cleaned that often' - and when Sophie H had gone away the teacher suddenly remembered all the hydrochloric acid that'd been around on Monday... a possible culprit for the eyes thing, although why it did that to the hands we don't know) she ran off to wash whatever it was off... when she came back she said she was convinced the spots on her hands were spreading, so I accused her of having the Dreaded Lurgy.

(no subject)

Okay, this is a bit cryptic, being written at the time and for me, and is also *very* depressing. (A little background - afaiaa, Angela wasn't a Christian. This also contains some quotes from/references to the readings at the memorial service.)

Two lonely cakes sit abandoned on the side
The world goes on, and I do too...
But she doesn't.

Nothing is lost, they say, and this is true
I knew her not, would never
Now I can't.

But the reading has it too, and I can't forget
That darkness and corruption are her lot
Gone forever.

It is done- it is late to counsel or to pray
And forget and smile is all I can
And can't do.

I have a picture in my mind
Smiling.

The next room

is an abyss.

Forever.

(A poem for Angela, after the memorial service)

(no subject)

Some commentry I wrote after that poem:
I barely knew Angela, and I don't want to cry because so many people have better reasons to. But I want to cry for the waste, the sickening, terrifying, horrible *waste* of it all...

Randomly I turn to my newly filled 'fortune' program. The first thing I pull out is 'Ghost Train' - apt maybe but unhelpful. And the next? "Sausages, sausages, sausages," - Sath. I can still smile. I can.