December 2012

Are you worried that food/warmth/wifi are the new bare necessities? Because I am. Those three are so inescapable that I'm beginning to re-code respiration and replace it with a html code and a fancy hyperlink. 
In the name of the father, the son and the holy wireless adapter. 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

You've joined me mid-cup of tea at midnight in a hotel room. You've got the rare spot of wifi to thank for that. You're welcome.

Despite these pixels (and undoubted teenage pretension) separating us, I will attempt to bridge that empty space with poorly edited shots of hotel rooms from my instagram. It's a resolution to use this old thing more often and well, no time like the present. If I'm right in my thinking, 2013 will be the three.. four(?!) -year anniversary of this blog. If that doesn't put the fear of the new generation and our rambunctious internet freedom up you, feast your eyes on my monochromatic picture update and repent.

C x



Thanks to these three songs, I am feeling in the festive spirit. I have Rookie to thank (again) for making me happier // cooler // better adjusted to my emotions, man.

Anything that tags itself with " indie rock french garage garage pop indiepop San Francisco" is alright with me. That's a rule.



I belong to a school that is two hundred years old. For a simple seaside town on the south coast, that's considered pretty old. I've never really given it much thought, but I guess Worthing feels the town is very integral to itself and that my school has churned out generations of young women with an imprinted identity. Except for the fact that they call us Davison Girls.

And that's the pertinent question: when will I grow out of being deemed a girl? I'm sixteen, reaching 5"9 and have a clear idea of the world around me. I can talk, walk and use chopsticks. I can list off other attributes or achievements but that would be egotistical and I realise that. I am not the five year old to whom you also pin the word 'girl'.

So, with that said, I wish to address the person who accosted me underneath their breath in the queue of Marks and Spencers. If it was important, he was elderly and male, but I think both gender and age is irrelevant here (and to be honest, always irrelevant) and I don't wish to judge him. For that would be sinking to his level and retaliating to provocation.

Dear the person behind me as I queued to pay at the self service checkouts of a popular retailer,
I am sure you thought you were being helpful by trying to direct me to the nearest self service checkout and, upon getting me to turn around in acknowledgement, were probably disappointed to find that - on closer inspection - it was broken. You apologised and I nodded before turning around to wait for another machine (and whether that lady in front could pull anything else out of her seemingly bottomless shopping trolley - who goes to self-service with a full trolley anyway?). My behavior did not require you to make a loud, pointed comment about "what a lovely smile that girl gave me.. honestly not an advertisement for the school at all. What ever happened to 'once a davison girl, always a davison girl?'" and continue to grumble incomprehensibly behind me. I was thoroughly embarrassed. Not in an "oops my ankle length skirt (navy blue and obligatory) is twisted into my pants" embarrassed, but in an abjectly isolated and insecure way. Who gave you that right to assess my attitude on the Friday afternoon of a disastrous week?

Was it my uniform? Was it the fact that I didn't thank you or smile? Was it that I'm a young person? I don't owe you anything for walking around in an instantly recognisable blue uniform. The school I belong to has absolutely nothing to do with my personality, it's not interlinked with my identity in any way. You can not generalise every female teenager simply because of what crest they have on their breast. If I was in the school uniform of the all-boys school would you expect me to be constantly smiling? Because I am not going to be gracious and thankful all the time. I won't be apologetic or ashamed that I have an equal right to be in this line next to you without being judged more harshly than any other woman in the vicinity. Being smiley, unassuming or immediately loving/trusting is not a debt I have to pay to anyone for occupying the space marked 'girl'. I don't really mind if you call me 'girl', but I have the biggest problem with you treating me like a child; like I am less important than you and doing something wrong by just being there and existing. I refuse to perform because you have a nostalgic image in your mind of who I must be because of what I wear, or any way in which I present myself externally.

Lastly, accept my apology if you were having an bad day. Yet, somehow, I doubt it. I feel like I'm not the first person you thought needed your opinion on how they act and how that makes you feel.

Sincerely, me.

This may be hypocritical, for I expressed my opinions here at the expense of someone else and maybe I did retaliate. But I really needed to. I kept quiet at the checkout because I couldn't condense my indignation into something coherent and polite; and I don't regret that because I don't need to justify why there is or isn't a smile on my face or a skip in my step.

If I was Taylor Swift, I would write this down in a song but, unfortunately, I am me and this is the best I can do.

Have a lovely weekend.


A bit of Sunday evening listening perhaps?

I made this a while ago for a french club I run with a couple friends at school. It's going well, but it's more an outlet for me to grow into a francophile of extreme proportions. 

I watched this film a few weeks ago, and it's perfectly cliched and full of carrie mulligan's face. 

image from foodcomablog

and made these sugar cookies... because I exist solely on sugar. 



Dear all of you who keep the visits on my blog at a constant increase, I want to thank you so much because that's pretty nice to feel like a few people appreciate this thing. 

So yes, thanks. 

I am not using this blog as often as I have during shiny bouts of writing as, if I'm attempting to discuss my thoughts, it's unfortunately through half-hearted essays in class. Class, class, class. My life has been consumed by criterion, calculations and crap-ness. 

The things that are keeping me from burning down my school?

Mix tapes are my saviors. 8tracks is like a gift from heaven. Musically, I'm still making attempts on my bass, whilst drooling over the bass lines in those really classic songs; particularly kim deal, simon gallup, peter hook's kind of bass. 

Films have been fun for me. Perks of being a wallflower was a bit marred by how absolutely hideous the casting was concerning emma watson as sam. I don't dislike emma watson, so it's nothing personal, just that the combination of her poor american accent, her delicate coquettish ways and lack of roughness - like knowing how rich she is - makes for a big let-down. In my opinion, you know, whatever. I want to see Ginger and Rosa soon. Wes Anderson has always been there for me as well*. Deciding not to do film studies at college though for fear of being the pretentious one who just cries in the corner.

I'm not that exciting. But you don't exactly need to be exciting.. I'm not some kind of circus freak so I'm getting through this year where the only thing encouraged of me is exam results. Like I'm some number on a page, isn't this what we detest? On the other hand, it's a total privileged young westerner syndrome and I regret that. 

I post on my instagram, I think I may be hooked, so if you want a more regular update that is the best place to check.

*cry. for. help.



Filmed and edited by Judy,* an accurate representation of what we do. 

You know something? I kind of adore my friends... everything I enjoy is some distorted love letter to being a 15 year old girl and I hope that this will never change. 

(I'm the brunette in the denim jacket). 

*apologies on her penchant for skrillex.



I've been a big fan of poetry from the days that I was raised on Dr Seuss' rhymes. I learnt to read when we got a computer and a green eggs and ham interactive CD rom; this was even before I was speaking (granted, I didn't speak until I was three years old). I liked hearing other people speak more than hearing the lazy way my thoughts made it out of my head and that remains today. Poetry is such an inexplicably beautiful form of communication.

I could list my likes and dislikes to the edges of infinity but I don't want to be condensed into my favourite food, my favourite colour. Tavi Genvinson said:"I would much rather be taking pictures and writing and be way in over my head and none of it even be that good than not do anything. Otherwise, I would probably be one of those people who puts all their self-perception in what their tastes say about them since they don’t have anything they themselves make or do because they’re afraid they won’t be good at it because they believe you can’t be creative just for yourself and that someone will say they are bad at it. Which just makes you think about what your tastes say about you all the more, which is that stupid mentality of people who are annoyed by hipsters. I just wanna like what I like! Where in this world is there any passion anymore! Any commitment! Once I didn’t leave the couch for 25 hours except to go to Ihop. That took commitment." Personally, I find that poets are really smart, but instead of just being smart, they take their intellect and pour it into something worthwhile. Is poetry pointless? I think it might be. I think that might be the appeal. The 'something out of nothing' weightlessness of words that can be used or disapproved according to what someone decides. Poetry isn't out of nothing though: it takes all the likes and dislikes and anecdotes and experiences and churns out this distilled stream of a persons lifeline and I adore it.

Maybe some people don't connect with poetry in the way I'm waxing lyrical about. But song lyrics are pretty poetic: and I think that most people universally connect with music so poetry doesn't just belong to the realms of the pretentious or pedantic.

This year I got really into Charles Bukowski. He's a loveable drunken despicable kind of person which makes him into such a respectable poet. The juxtaposition of dissatisfaction and a parallel oneness with the world makes me so interested in his work. I'd recommend some of his stuff. I just ordered his collected works from the library.

I found this poem by Dorianne Laux on the internet (thank you sweet invention of our new age industrial revolution) and I love it. I know nothing of Laux and that doesn't matter, because isn't this poem fantastic?

Antilamentation, by Dorianne Laux
Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don’t regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the living room couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You’ve walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don’t bother remembering
any of it. Let’s stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.

I'm also a fan of Derrick Brown and I would really love to own some of his stuff. He's got a similar, rambling, conversational style that I just find so easy to read. No distracting, alienating long words, just simple and rough.
Finally, the poet who inspired this post because he was just today recommended to me by my friend Eleanor. I'm completely overwhelmed by his talent and nothing I can think to say will do him justice, so I'll do what I do best and listen to others talk in far better ways than I could ever dream of emulating. Hey, it's been a lifelong obsession.



Hello! I'm accompanying this bland post with a few pictures from my past week as I don't have anything exciting to report, but I've been enjoying my daily routine, as I'm just going along with things and finding myself in interesting situations.

Bottom left is some maths work I should be doing, but I don't study! Luckily I find equations and mathematical paraphernalia quite aethstetically pleasing, so hopefully I'll absorb some knowledge through osmosis...

I've been listening to this album (and most of blood red shoes' back catalogue) extensively and I recommend them so wholeheartedly; their new album is almost flawless in my eyes.

Good luck if you're currently having exams!



This time of year is when things start to seem a bit more interesting because it feels like summer break is coming which is good for many things, including the freedom of time in which you can work on the stuff you actually care about (art coursework, that doesn't mean you!).

So this summer, I want to:
  1. Learn how to swim. Somehow I've managed to completely skip over this seemingly essential life skill and now I'm just intensely jealous of people who are practically semi-aquatic.
  2. Play the bass. Again, I'm sick of languishing in self-pity because I'm envious of things others can do, of which I'm totally capable.
  3. Read the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I feel like a pretender for loving the films so, when I've never actually read the real text.
  4. Rollerskate... I'm pretty bad at it but I got some classy skates.

(My friend Jenny is a killer photographer, manages to get a part of herself in every picture we take!) That's a list of four useful ideas, and I've also been thinking of a couple less likely/less productive things to do. Hopefully the weather stays sunny, it just makes my mind wander..



Famous last words, I know, and - as I sit typing with hello kitty band-aid covered hands and chipped nail varnish you might not believe me.

But, through sheer combination of sunny afternoons and the discovery of all-in cookies, I actually feel really on track. This is, of course, subjective. 'On track' in this context means 'made-a-bit-of-a-mess-of-everything-but-whatever'. 

Chaos ensued after I went for an interview for head girl and didn't get it, which led me to the worst revelation: that I wasn't too bothered about it in the first place. It is awful, because all my doubts about the interview and the ensuing decision have been replaced by sheer guilt for the other refused hopefuls who are genuinely upset. I felt like a wolf in lambs clothing throughout the whole process (you could tell, I was the only one who opened my envelope with a shocked 'people voted for ME?!') and I guess that the higher authorities saw right through my disguise.

Happily, this has led me to the things I enjoy doing. Instead of feeling abject shame for not being suitably distraught, I'm occupying my time with staying up late watching twin peaks and doing slight revision for a couple of finals I have in the next month (this is my way of saying that blogging is going to be scarce in mid-may and early june). I've never mentioned this, but I study two languages, with my french study being independent and today I had an interview and acceptance for modern foreign languages prefect which means great things; namely the excuse to hang out in the languages department, spend time with my other prefects who are some really solid people, and put on clubs and stuff where we can eat crêpes and drink chocolat chaud - très passionnant!

To add to my whole conquering the rejection mood, I had a message for me from Janie waiting for me! I find Janie so inspirational and just a generally great person with a whole heap of integrity - but she is the hardest person to track down and arrange to meet up with! Trust me. She blogs too, in the most beautiful and heart felt style. Read her blog here.

There's no moral to this story. Apart from the universally held truth that you can be too riot grrrrl for head girl.




If I'm not running in the rain to lessons (which I'm perpetual late to, not that I'm an eager year seven, but I'm of that lucky disposition that no one notices me slipping into lessons) then I've been sitting on my roof in the seldom seen sun. Today, my mother and I took a walk along the beach and it looks like a sight from old american coast postcards, rather than the drizzly mess that it is about 70% of the time.

And below: can we all just appreciate the right angles my forehead breaks into the second I start to talk?

Appreciated? Good. It's a testament to the reason why I'm not a vlogger.
(Apart from the obvious stupidity of calling yourself a 'vlogger')



This is my last weekend of being a complete slacker, so let's revel in my day's work!
(In a perfect world, it should have been a combination of religious studies and maths revision, but I am so grateful that this isn't a perfect world).

Hmm... uncertain as to what was going on in my twin peaks saturated mind when I curated this, because it could be way more introspective and thus more relevant, but it's still totally useful for bedroom dancing and wishing you were more/less introspective*.

"Laura Palmer's Prom" (click for songs)

1. Lust for Life // GIRLS

2. Deceptacon // le tigre

3. Inside Outside // The Grates

4. The Kelly Affair // Be Your Own Pet

5. Monogamy // I Heart Sharks

6. Twin Peaks (allen blickle remix) // Surfer Blood

7. Debaser // Pixies

8. Miss World // Hole

9. Home Vs Home (blueskies remix) // The Xcerts

10. Laura Palmers Prom // You say Party! We say Die!

*That, and I really wanted to listen to these songs.



I'm pretty sure that I've found my niche. It's an inexplicable thing so I'll just stop now. 

I've realised that I've been stressed at school because it feels that I was happily working on all kinds of inconsequential matter or practise runs, and suddenly I've been thrown into the real things, and stuff that will make a difference. It scares me, but I don't want to let go of any opportunity simply because of fear. I also can't work out how I feel about exams.. do they matter? Will I regret not studying, or not doing the things I love? 

I've drawn a venn diagram quickly to show how I feel about STUFF. 

Not much cross-over. Also, a great testimony to why I took GCSE art...



To summarise what you may have missed whilst I've was off social networking, just play really loud, really bad, angsty music and imagine me running around with a 35mm camera in hand. And that's it. 






 (The Maccabees were incredible live; I really recommend going to see them.)

Kings Cross station


I had an excellent time in Scotland, and I've mentioned on here how transfixed I was on the place. I wasn't disappointed. Although it's good I spent only four days there, for all my bodily fluids were slowly, but surely, turning the acrid orange shade of irn bru...



(now might just be the right time for a witty comparison with Jesus... or not.)

Hello! I'm back to blogging, and returning to social media with a vengeance.
Well, not really. But I'm glad to be back online and I've done so much over the last month and a half that I want to share, so expect to be inundated with future blog posts from yours truly. 

I hope you're all having wonderful days off today, I've spent the day eating my body weight in pierogies and chocolate (not together... gross.)

This is a picture I took in Edinburgh last week. Spring is really great this year, isn't it?



This will be my last blog post until Easter. This year is going by quickly!

So last year for Lent, I gave up facebook and chocolate. This year I am going a step further to the realms of masochism by depriving myself of chocolate and social networking; an umbrella term including my twitter, tumblr, facebook and blogger acount (including reading blogs by others). Depriving is a funny way to describe it (it's the word that popped into my head first - can you tell I'm nervous/full of dread?!) because I'm thinking it will be as if I'm growing up 15 years ago...

Which is sweet, in an odd and impossibly nostalgic way. 

I'm very prone to feeling like a product of my generation (but probably everyone is... right?) and I just don't want to be trapped in a place where my actual life is superseded by the one I have on the internet. I'm not too certain of my exact feelings vis-a-vis internet control over real life, because it's so hazy where one ends and the other begins, plus the overlap is widening rapidly - good thing, bad thing? Who knows..

I'll be back before you know/realise it!

Have fun in the remainder of February, March and and April (without me, sob!), unfortunately I'll be pretty hard to locate but I'll still be checking my email at csosienskismith@hotmail.co.uk so send me a snail mail of the 21st century! Or, if you'd prefer actual snail mail, let's be pen pals (email me for my address).

Thank you for following me, reading my blog, and humouring my odd bouts of internet love/hate.

 I'll meet you in the street.   

Apologies for the video, there are not enough versions of this out there!



For nine days, I am blissfully parted from school. I've got a lot of lovely things planned this week and I'll be capturing them all on this: 

I bought this cheap disposable camera today with my friend Beth and reminisced of times when the sound of the film winding on would exist concomitantly with happy memories. This blog makes me sound about eighty, I swear.

My most recent discovery is that Wikipedia had a definitive list of 'Scottish Indie Rock Groups'. Goodbye life, hello music geekery in all its reclusive glory.

Beth and I also went to a secondhand book fair today. I spent three pounds and got a plethora of beautiful books, including this lovely little pocket atlas circa 1910.

 Other purchases feature...

I'm self confessed book addict, and I think it's kind of incredible that the meagre pages in these books have survived so much, outlasting the authors by passing from hand to hand for more than a century.

We also both bought new jackets. I got this denim one from Cancer Research. 

We did other fun things in Shoreham, and I'll post the pictures from the developed film at some point. Hope you're enjoying the weather - I am of the small minority that has no snow, but I love the winter sun on windy February afternoons.