A post about nom.

There was a day in the house where I felt full of energy the whole day. Not like manic jumping everywhere, but like a steady amount of energy, so that I didn't need a nap.

On that day, I ate:

• Breakfast: Bowl of Special K, semi-skimmed milk
• Lunch: Chicken soup, two slices of granary bread
• Snack: Apple
• Dinner: Vegetables, potatoes, gravy
• Snack: Slice of toast
  

All with fruit juices and water.

Something tells me that eating a good diet might make me feel better, in general. Yesterday, I had a pretty bad day, foodwise. I snacked on donuts most of the day, and gave up to have chicken-chips at night. Had donuts for breakfast today as well, and today and yesterday I succumbed to a two, three hour nap.

The plan is to keep eating vegetables, and get some meat somewhere in here. I suppose when the boys come back, we can shop together, and buy things like meat together.

Also, buying lots of vegetables to eat is cheaper than oodles of ready meals. I just have to try to be less lazy about cooking and just do it.

They'll never walk alone.

Twenty years ago, a football match against Liverpool and Nottingham Forest was stopped a few minutes in. A crush had occurred in the all-standing area designated for Liverpool fans, and nearly a hundred Liverpool fans died.

The all-standing areas were cheaper to buy tickets for, in comparison to the seated areas. They were most popular amongst working class men and teenage boys. Back in those days, football hooliganism was peaking. Liverpool fans had already been in trouble with Juventus in a stand in Europe, causing another tragedy, with fans killed. The image that fans had at the time is thought by some to have made police believe that there wasn't a deadly crush occuring, but merely drunken fighting in the pens.

There was an infamous article, written by The Sun. It accused the fans of being drunk, disorderly, causing a riot, urinating on those helping the fallen. It was an article of lies dishonouring the victims with a front-page headline saying "THE TRUTH". A lot of people in Liverpool don't read The Sun any more, because of that. The circulation figures in the Merseyside area were slashed by more than half.

A lot of the families who lost someone, and survivors who escaped, still feel like the police should have taken far more responsibility. When the police were unable to control the crowds outside the ground and the woefully inadequate turnstiles were not capable of dealing with the volume of people, they opened a gate meant to be an exit gate, to relieve the pressure outside. However, they did not shut off access to the already full central pens, causing the crush.

Since then, the popular all-standing areas were replaced by seated areas in big grounds, to avoid that sort of disaster from happening again. They still exist in smaller grounds around the UK.

I've been following the article buildup on BBC News for the past couple of days, and reading Wikipedia articles around the subject.

Twenty years on, and men who were once boys in the pens are still unable to go back to Hillsborough. Twenty years on, and families are still campaigning to making the police take responsbility. Twenty years on, and people are still hurting.

To the 96 - rest in peace.

What's in a name?

I always thought that my name was too plain to be worth achieving anything. Sarah. Meh.

Now, I'm having a James Brown moment, and you can't really get more standard than James Brown. And yet, you never think of any other James Brown types - you just think of one.

Maybe there is hope yet.

Le talk petit.

Being in Small Talk situations automatically makes me inappropriate.

Not naked-inappropriate, or anything like that. I just can't seem to think of sensible, normal small-talky things to say.

I'll talk about raisins, or ninjas, or shellfish that ate my mother.

Or, I'll just be silent, to stop those mad-crazy things entering the conversation.

Small Talk situations also make me want to giggle a lot. Because, people are talking, but saying nothing.

"Nice weather, isn't it?" Yes, it is. Talking about it doesn't change the weather, and it doesn't make me emotionally attached to it either.

My favourite thing to do is making incredibly awful puns that only I understand, or just say "Thanks, ants. Thants." as I have been saying for a while now.

My mother was right, you can't take me anywhere!

Facebook picture musings.

It's quite funny how much a simple Facebook photo can say about someone.

Take my friend, K. He broke up with his girlfriend of 4+ years a couple of months ago. We all kinda saw it coming, but even still, breaking up is hard to do.

His profile picture is of him, and she's in the right hand corner - her face is half cut off, but it's still recognisable as her.

I wonder if that's how she still is to him, half a girl stuck in the back of his mind. I know he's been with a couple people since her, but nobody for a relationship. I've been trying to help him out with a couple girls that things got a little complicated with.

I hope he's okay. I'll sure miss him when he graduates.

Not a good day.

I feel ill. I left my three essay-essential books at home, so Dad's having to do four hours of driving for me today. (He's amazing. I can't think of how to repay him for this.)

I'm just waiting for him to arrive so I can get to Leeds quickly, and be in the arms of the man I love...

*sigh*

Goshdarnit.

I've found motivation to study... with less than three weeks left to go. Fail!

I have a really strong craving for butter, eggs and sugar, beaten together. Or, just some cookie dough. I reckon I could fix this one with toast'n'jam.

*sigh* Getting the marks I need from the exam is actually doable. I just haven't left myself enough time to study. Argh.

Breakfast time, and then mad Vector Analysis time. I should probably start packing soon as well! ^_^