VLOGS

So this Gwen person has a vlog.

I've done my duty as a citizen of the internet and tried to Google it, but so far alas.

She can't even do that right, make a vlog that doesn't disappear into obscurity. What's the point of broadcasting your thoughts to the world if no one is there to hear them?

Do you even actually express your thoughts in such a situation?

Wikipedia calls a 'video log' a form of 'web television'.

If there is one thing that Gwen is not, it's a person suited for television. She's too gaudy, too out there, too...

I mean, honestly.

There's not even any art in making a vlog - you plonk down a camera somewhere, whinge at it for a bit, then stick it online.

True art lies in composition. Like in paintings or statues or literature. Film is not a true art. I mean, sure, film is nice and all, and can be very pretty and clever, but it's not a proper art like the traditional arts.

She filmed me without my permission and made me seem ridiculous.

What if Ernest sees that?

He won't, no one watches her vlog, I'm sure of it.

Oh Ernest, my Ernest.

Speaking of literature, I still have a fondness for that gorgeous line I came up last Tuesday. “A withering flower, killed by darkness, drops itself, petal by petal, onto the dirt.”. It sound like the opening sentence of a novel, one that I'm sure Ernest would probably read, so I am very very proud of that sentence. It is very pretty. I will write it out in ink and draw a charcoal picture to accompany it. Some time.

I am the one who keeps laughing and smiling whatever happens so I believe that I at least will make a lasting impression as the girl who takes bad things so darn well, regardless of whatever happens. Gwen will not take Ernest away from me.

God, I’m obsessed with him, it is sick. I do love to torture myself, apparently. Ugh.

See, blogs are better than vlogs. Much more space for expressing emotions that I'm sure will be funny to read about in five years. 

Cricket

As you all (all five of you, I suppose) know by now, sometimes when I'm not sure what's up, I go visit my grandfather in Harrogate.

I went North on Saturday evening, after that *ugh* Gwen insulted my diary (while she has that stupid video blog, like some sad person), and thinking she's better than me.

Just because she went to St. Andrew's doesn't mean she's better than me. My University is just as good.

AND WHAT IS UP WITH HER GUSHING OVER ERNEST?

Hands off.

And normally when I go to grandfather's, he makes me feel better by telling stories of ye olden days, and taking me out to lovely restaurants, and having his lovely friends over for tea.

But all of Sunday he was pre-occupied.

Yes, so my grandfather lives in Yorkshire. He's from Yorkshire.

That still doesn't mean he ought to spend his entire day watching sports.

And it wasn't even a one-day-thing-

He was watching the England v India test, which was on its third day on Sunday.

Don't you get sick of three days of the same sport?

I mean, I quite like cricket. I don't understand it entirely because even though grandfather tries over and over (pun intended) to explain it to me, I just - don't. Sports aren't my thing. But it is quite soothing to watch, and some of the players are really rather handsome. Especially in those cricket whites. And I love it whenever grandfather takes me to Headingley for one of those one-day matches, or T20 (though he's not too keen on T20, he calls it fast food cricket), though he hasn't done so in ages.

But three days to watch the same game? Eh.

But that Gwen, that Gwen, she's just-

Grandfather said it right when I told him the whole thing.

She's just not cricket.

Hunger Games

So, I've had some more time to think about meeting that Gwen person.

I don't think-

I don't know.

She likes the Hunger Games. Thinks it merits.

Uhm, no. The novels are terribly written and it's a rip-off of an earlier series, and it's just - I mean, it's entertaining, but...

Anyway, that's all irrelevant.

She did say I was pretty, so I suppose that counts in her favour.

I'm so fed up with the current weather, all that rain. It's too early for autumn, I want some more time to enjoy the trees being green and the flowers and the sun being out.

Prism is being irritable, says I'm being antsy. I'm not antsy.

Ernest still won't add me on Facebook. What is wrong with him?

Where is Jack?

New... Friends...Ish?

I'm confused.

As I said, Jack has been ridiculously moody lately, and I haven't the faintest what's up with him.

So I've been trying to pry it out of him, but he's terrible at responding to texts when he's away, and he's hardly ever home.

And somehow there was this girl, Gwendolyn - I think - who showed up on our doorstep last weekend saying Ernest had sent her over to meet Jack.

Prism has been really annoying about my crushing on Ernest, having not met him, but she never really took to Gwen, leaving her to me. And I'm not sure what to think of her.

For one, why on Earth would Ernest have sent her over? To meet Jack seems ridiculous, as Jack hadn't even returned from the city yet and I expect he would have been with Ernest as always, so Ernest would've known sending the girl over would have been ridiculous.

Unless of course she was unfashionably early, which I could suspect her of being.

Surely we'll be great friends, she seems nice.

Except she does seem a bit keen on Ernest, so I'll have to keep an eye on her.

Anyway, in other news I may have found some occupation for next year. Daddy seems to know some lovely people in some museums in Paris who would be willing to host me for an internship, which would be really nice. I love Paris, I could easily spend the rest of my life there, no matter what drives me there, no matter the circumstances in which I would have to live.

I'd even settle for cava instead of champagne.