sifting through.

So, I was just looking through my documents for a story I could finish/complete/start writing, and I found this. The date? 16th February. I'm crap with days, but I know that that's the.. day I came back from Emma's. yeah, am I right? I can't remember. But this was written on the train (seeing as I couldn't get the internet and had six hours to kill) enjoy reading..

It’s insane how addicted to the internet we can become. What’s the point of having a laptop when you can’t access your social networking profile, or play some games to pass the time? Or perhaps even use it for work? I’m trying to figure this out now: in all honesty, I have access to the internet right now; on my little phone I can visit many sites. Mobile internet, a great substitute. But it still isn’t the same, is it? I’m so used to viewing Bebo or Myspace upon a computer screen that I just can’t focus on it when it’s on my small phone screen.

Finding something to do other than going on the internet is a tough business. I don’t have much on my laptop: loads of files, sure, but I’m not wasting my time looking at picture upon picture, reading through every single document I have. Instead, I’ll just type out whatever comes to my head, I guess. That’s what I’m calling this: a menagerie of thoughts: I can’t talk to anyone, but I can. I just don’t want to call anyone, or text them. I want to speak to them on AIM or MSN, but, no, that happens to require the internet, which we’ve already gathered I can’t access.

I can see my typing fingers reflected on the screen. It’s off putting, but at the same time therapeutic, like how Richard enjoys watching me colour in a picture because it calms him down. Weird, huh? That’s a thing I might do later: some colouring, if I can bring myself to draw a picture. Oh, or maybe I could use a picture within my files as a reference, draw it on to paper and then colour.

Ooh, Rosemary, you’re thinking. I like it.

Thing is, my battery might not last that long. It’s on “power saver” mode, but I actually don’t think it’s any difference to the other modes I have. Doesn’t seem to be doing anything different. I know that I shouldn’t be listening to music via my computer as it brings down the battery, but it’s not the same listening to my iPod, Caleb. Caleb isn’t connected to the computer, therefore I’m not. So, my headphones are my bridge across to my technology. I think I can officially be called sad.

I’m not sure if I want anyone to read this. It’s droning on and I’m scared that the people sitting behind me can read over my shoulder, even though I know I can’t to the person in front of me. Paranoid, paranoia? Doesn’t the ‘oia’ arrangement in that word look weird?

Every person that passes me I keep thinking is the ticket man, who I’m not looking forward to facing. I have a ticket, yeah, but it’s more of a pass that I got because of my dad. I’m not exactly certain it allows me to go all the way up to Glasgow from London. It might, I hope so.

Dad said it would He’s worried I’ll be hungry sometime along this six hour train ride. He doesn’t realise how filling Jaffa Cakes are. Mum supplied me with a pack, as well as some peanut M&Ms. Yeah, junk food for the win. Or is it fuck the world? I’m still trying to work it out. I think fuck the world sounds better, but, personal choice I guess.

Now this is boring me. I’m going to continue later: the word I wanted to use there didn’t want to come to my head. It started with an s... but now I’m thinking postpone. Yeah, I’ll postpone this for an hour or so.

-

Forget an hour or so. How about, three days or so? I’m on the way back: extremely close to London now, actually. The ride back was a lot more pleasant, I think. Not because I want to come home, but more because I felt more comfortable within who I was sitting near. Everyone seems to generally be smiling, and just before the York stop I had a polite conversation with this elderly woman (she’s looking pretty good for her age, though!) named Daphne, and just now I had a little conversation with a power-ranger-loving-four-year-old-who-has-school. He’s a little tyke, but, hey, that’s kids for you.

Oh God, now I feel extremely old. Not a good sign!

I was just looking through my valentines cards – god, look at that, plural! – and wondering whether I’ve matured or not over the past year. I’ve never received a valentines card before: never really been bothered. But now, I’ve gotten one from Aaron (“wish you were here” imprinted on the front because of this trip) and one from ‘Brendon’ to his ‘fiancé’. I love Emma and her weird creativity. Inside the fiancé card, she’s crossed out the entire sappy poem and written the lyrics to Nine In The Afternoon. Definitely keeping that as a souvenir/reminder thing.

For the fourth time in the past ten minutes my ears have popped, and the man in front of me has broken out into song. Admittedly, I was singing along to Fall Out Boy earlier – but not out loud. At least, I don’t think I was.

The train gets in at 15:44. Current time? 15:36. I guess this means I should really put the laptop away now, finish my little journey planner even though it totally sucks and I’m a forgetful person.

Besides, I didn’t want to sound like too much of a nerd: I mean, journey planner, come on!

Yeah I’m going now.