Ramblings of a half-hearted optimist

I will sort myself out

2011-07-18T07:22:00.005+01:00

I haven't blogged since last year... That was a startling discovery (not the fact that I haven't been a terribly punctual writer, but that it's been that long since I last imposed upon you dear readers). You're probably wondering why and without wishing to bore you, I simply haven't had the time or the inclination to. In fact, I don't know why I sat at my keyboard this morning. In truth, I woke up, was about to walk downstairs to make myself a coffee and take my hay fever tablet when I found myself walking back to bed and cocooning myself in the quilt with my laptop perched on my arched knees.

Wow, bit of purple prose for you there.

Anyway, the past few months, returning to bed with no desire to get up has been normal, but not what I am doing at this present moment, which is of course writing to you all (that is, if you're still bothering to check my blog, which I wouldn't blame you if you'd ceased doing). After randomly perusing my feed of David Tennant blog updates and what have you and realising I had no new comments to my blog (which was saddening) I hit 'new post' and began to write this drivel.

Apologies.

I find it ironic how I found it relatively easy to write when I had naff all to say and now, when I have so many things I want to scream and growl about I can't express myself in a way that makes me clear to everyone. Needless to say at the moment I am beyond frustrated and I wish I could properly detail the hell I have been trying to survive but I fear that I can't. Instead I shall simply record here the momentous things that have happened to me since I last wrote and will leave it at that.

I struggled to complete the work for my first semester of third year because of personal reasons (namely being distracted by someone, being distracted by my own pathetic self and not being able to concentrate). Somehow over the hell of the Christmas holidays I managed to complete the work. Why were they hell?

Over Christmas my mother and father had a blazing row, the details of which I won't bore you with by going into. It resulted in their separation (thankfully a less prolonged process than the first time), which has caused me a great deal of stress. It was decided my mother, sister and I would move out. A move which cost me the entirety of my second maintenance grant payment from university. That quite neatly condenses the amount of arguments, tears and days where I didn't want to exist anymore quite nicely.

My beloved rabbit, Tilly, died on the 7th March 2011. For months we'd been medicating her arthritis, for a week before I knew the end was coming because my little bunny just wasn't herself. She was weak and helpless not the cheeky little madame we all knew and adored. I cried so much I didn't know it was possible (at that moment, I've cried a hell of a lot since) and was completely desolate. I had her cremated which was an expensive thing to do, but it was the last thing I could do for her and I couldn't bear the thought of her being alone and cold in a garden that was 'hers' but where I couldn't visit her every day or where foxes could dig her up (we used to live on the edge of a forest). At least now she can stay in the warm with us wherever we are. I know that's sentimental, but I really don't care what you think.

On 8th March 2011 I moved house. Talk about stress overload. No Internet access at the new house meant the removal of the one person who'd been keeping me sane (well as sane as I possibly could be). I couldn't access uni resources from home or other research facilities to help with my dissertation and course work. In the end I resorted to whatever time I could use on computers in public libraries and taking my laptop into uni (which I said I'd never do).

On April 7th we finally got the Internet reconnect at home. I have never been so excited or happy.

These past few months I have been struggling to complete my dissertation and other module projects which I managed to do, thankfully. I finished everything to the best of my ability and to show for it I have a BA (Hons) in Creative & Professional Writing and English Second class First division. It means I have secured my place on my Primary PGCE this September at my first choice university. I should feel proud and excited, but I don't. I just feel empty.

Graduation is another thing I've been working towards and have waited these past 3 years for, hoping I'd be able to make it. Now I'm not sure I even want to go, again for reasons I shan't go into.

I have treated those closest to me with, well I can't describe it. I have been evil to everyone and I can only apologise from the bottom of my heart. I wish I could explain what I've been feeling and how I've been thinking, how I still am. I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I don't even know why I'm making a public apology on here because those affected don't read this or don't read regularly as far as I'm aware.

I would go into what I'm going through now, the constant ups and downs and waves of total anguish, of this aching feeling in what I can only assume is my soul and the copious amounts of tears I have shed. I have always been a relatively happy and optimistic person, sometimes cynical (which is when I tend to write) and sarcastic, but still happy. I used to be able to see the good things in life and to find reasons to hope. I can't seem to do that anymore. I want any escape I can find and yet half the time I don't have the inclination to do anything apart from wallow in my own despair. Pretty dark, huh?

I am stupid really; it has to be said. I don't learn from my mistakes, if anything I make them again but worse. I push people away by trying to rectify past mistakes. I tend to rush things that make me happy because I feel like I've missed out on things. I long to be patient and calm. There is something, I suppose you could say someone, that I'm waiting for. I thought I was strong enough to handle it. It was exciting and new to me to begin with, but now I feel like I'm wishing away every day merely so I'm closer to a day that hasn't even been named, just 'some day'. I've come to realise I can't live like this. I need to get out, to live. I'm not saying that I won't keep waiting, I will because I truly believe that they're worth it and I don't want to be wrong. I've just realised that I need to sort myself out first and I will... even if it doesn't feel like it right now. I hope today is just another down day.

And on that note I shall end, before I write anymore drivel or depress any readers I have left further still.

Aloha.

"But Stephen Fry says it!"

2010-11-04T20:52:00.012Z

Aloha readers. Toffy is having trouble concentrating on, well, anything at the moment. I'm having one of those weeks where I can't seem to focus - probably because I've been doing bits of uni work every day since we returned to uni and I've melted my brain. Thus, I've been trying to solidify this brain soup into something useable. Today I actually managed to dome some uni work again (woo!) and send emails and what not to my tutees (who still either haven't contacted me at all, or haven't realised they don't know how to add attachments. Bless).

Anyhow, the purpose of this blog is to put forth a blog about the Legend, nay the God that is Mr Stephen Fry. That man is just... there are no words in my head to describe him. My vocabulary is not articulate enough.

Why the sudden random blog about this awesome figure of entertainment and enlightenment? Well, I was with my uni friends the other day and I said 'lavatory' and they said "ooooh how posh are you?" or something like that.

My memory's like a leaky sieve at the moment, so forgive any slightly out of whack details... Not that you'd know what they are as you weren't there.

Crap-ness of memory aside, I remarked that I shouldn't say 'lavatory' because my Mom doesn't like it. She thinks it sounds vile and/or unsavory for reasons only known to her and prefers me to say 'loo' or 'toilet'.

The first time she told me off for saying 'lavatory' my excuse was thus:

"But Mom, Stephen Fry says 'lavatory'!"

I bet you can imagine my utter disbelief when she wouldn't accept this as a logical reason to broaden her lexicon.

Anyway, it got me thinking. I've been meaning to do a blog about creative uses of language (mainly in the realm of cursing). One Friday I was discussing alternatives to cursing with the uni girls and I've been meaning to blog it since then (I'm a terribly good procrastinator). 'What are your alternatives to cursing then Toffy?' I hear you cry. Well...

Bananas in pyjamas!
Monkey wrench!
Donkey flange!
Fudge it!
Monkey nuts!
For the sake of all things Holy!
For Fudge's sake!
You Camel!
You Moose!
You Spork!
SPORK!
S***, F***, B*****, B*******, T**, W***, A***!

Ok, so that last one isn't an alternative to cursing but it feels really good to say (I've written it that way for any sensitive readers I have).

So what are Stephen Fry's thoughts on cursing? I leave you with this clip from QI where Stephen Fry, Rob Brydon and Rich Hall discuss cursing, whilst exploring the topic of bell ringing with Alan Davies and Bill Bailey...

Hope you all enjoyed that :)

Aloha.

Brain Soup

2010-10-29T15:00:00.006+01:00

Howdy dear readers and before you give me GBH of the ear hole with "where the naffing hell have you been?" and such like I will promise right now that I won't give an exceedingly long list of excuses, just the following timeless classics:

I have been busy. Deal with it.
Certain family members are Morons. Notice the capital 'm'.
I've had nothing interesting to say.

That last one might cause some controversy. I know you're all thinking 'but Toffy, you never have anything interesting to say'. This is true, but usually I can take that rubbish and polish it into drivel.

Lately, I haven't even been able to manage that. My brain has surpassed the mush stage and gone straight to soup.

Actually, I might write a book called Brain Soup one day. Simply because I think it makes a rather fine title, don't you agree?

Anyway, I shan't apologise for rambling, the clue's in the blog name if you were expecting anything less. Nor shall I rant about how I didn't get to go to the theatre last night, despite buying tickets and looking forward to it immensely - most of the people who read this will have already heard that particular rant and I don't wish to bore them. *Waves to the uni people*

The point of this blog entry? There isn't one really, it's mainly because I haven't written in a while so I thought I should. However, just for my own personal satisfaction and notes... :

Progress with dissertation - have a new title, a plan and a collection of 7 books from the library, 8 including the one appropriately named How to write your undergraduate dissertation
Progress with novel - written first section. Must stop editing first section. Must write more. Finally penned a plan last week... Only started writing the naffing novel 5 months ago... Ooops
Have finally come up with an idea for Teaching Writing research project. Whether it is workable or not is still up for debate
Should really get back to my 18th Century lit forum post...

Yeah, that last one I should really pay attention to right now. The deadline's not until midnight Tuesday, but I like to get them done so I don't have them hanging on my mind anymore.

Aloha everyone.

Toffy is done...ish

2010-09-21T08:01:00.004+01:00

I finished Persuasion at 00:20 this morning. I danced. I then went downstairs, grinned at my Mom and danced some more.

That's another book polished off in less than a day and with a day to spare before my first lecture back at uni, how cool is that?

I also managed to (finally) get the module guide for 18th Century lit off the net on Sunday and within five minutes of looking at the reading list I had ordered the necessary texts for just over £20 from Amazon. 3/4 have already been dispatched so when they arrive (hopefully before Saturday) I can make a start on them.

Get me with the on the ball-ness.

Speaking of Amazon, the first part of my haul of DVDs arrived yesterday and are looking rather pretty on my shelf. I now have a newer version of Sense and Sensibility to add to my adaptation starring Emma Thompson, the Gwyneth Paltrow and Romola Garai adaptations of Emma (I also have another version on order in a box set on the way so I'm bound to find a version I can take to), Persuasion with the lovely Rupert Penry-Jones and Sally Hawkins, as well as North and South starring Daniela Denby-Ashe and Richard Armitage and Jane Eyre starring Ruth Wilson and Toby Stephens.

I'm still awaiting the ITV box set of Emma, Mansfield Park and Northanger Abbey as well as my book order.

I am less happy with the possibility of having to take my lovely house rabbit to the vet's today. She's an OAP by bunny standards and has been having periods of sitting awkwardly recently. Last night's was a lot longer than usual and I'm really concerned for her. We reckon she's developing joint pain because she won't jump out of her cage anymore, we have to pick her up which she never liked before.

Oh well. So much the sigh worthy points in my life. I am off to fuss said rabbit and decide whether to have cereal or a bacon sandwich for breakfast.

Yeah, on a slightly weird tangent, who butters their bread for a bacon sandwich? We had a conversation in sixth form 'cause this girl buttered one side of her bacon sandwich (apparently to butter both would have been disgusting). I personally don't butter my bread at all, surely its adding unnecessary grease to an already slightly greasy breakfast? I prefer to ketchup it up or have BBQ sauce, but that's just me.

Aloha :)

Toffy proves she is an Austen Addict

2010-09-14T10:09:00.009+01:00

Good morning readers, well if it's morning for you, if it be another time of day, good that as well.

Toffy is a zombie this morning folks. I finished reading Miss Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey last night, well this morning at 00:35. Not in a very long while have I managed to finish a book in approximately twelve hours. Not even J. K. Rowling at the height of my Harry Potter craze managed that.

Which just proves that I am right to call myself an Austen Addict.

So yes, I have completed 2 books in 2 days, no bad accomplishment I can tell you, even if I had been endeavouring to read Emma for what seemed like an age. I don't know what was wrong with me, I just couldn't get gripped by Emma like I could the other works, Mom says she was the same. Having said that, the latter chapters did pick up pace and I stormed through them easy enough. Ah well, only Persuasion left to read now and I can begin my research for my independent study in earnest rather than the bits and pieces of ideas and follow up scouting that I have been doing. I am looking forward to the more coherent thought, but not to the eye strain, which I think I am perfectly acceptable to lament.

Oh get me with the posh-ish vocab... Oh what a come down and such a short thought (I would say sentence, but that seems a little too liberal)... Ah stuff it, its my blog I shall do as I wish.

Anyway, I'm shattered frankly. I'm also slightly regretting agreeing to go ice skating with my bessie friend (well one of the very few, very dear friends) today. I have a feeling I shall do myself some sort of injury, I often do in my exuberance, but such is life - I would be rather cliched but still high brow in noting the French version instead, but I've forgotten how to spell it and I don't wish to look like an idiot, or as Miss Jane Austen would say, a simpleton.

You're probably wondering why I keep referring to the esteemed authoress as 'Miss Jane Austen', well to refer to her as anything else, considering my very limited, well non-existent, personal acquaintance with her and the sense to know a little of the customs of her contemporary society (thanks to a rather insightful book called Jane Austen's guide to Good Manners by Josephine Ross) it would be extremely rude and deplorable to address said literary genius in any other manner.

So there.

I will say this though, Miss Jane, I thoroughly enjoyed what I perceived as your parodying (I was going to use far coarser language and thought better of it) your contemporary sister authors in Northanger Abbey as well as your rant opposing all those who think novels are stupid. It was a very well composed and just rant, but it did rather take me by surprise and I had to re-read it, mainly because I couldn't believe you had simply ended the chapter there.

Oh well, I must bring this blog to a close because I have things to do (I would say ten thousand things in order to mock your character Miss Thorpe, but I shall refrain, however much I dislike her) before I enjoy the cold brusqueness of the rink and rue the hard slap of ice as I -more than likely - fall flat on my posterior.

Farewell, dear readers, until I can be bothered to write again.

Aloha.

P.S. At least when I read Persuasion I can imagine the lovely Rupert Penry Jones as Captain Wentworth. Hehe. His episode of Who do you think you are? was a cracker, as was his wife's and of course, Alexander Armstrong's. But enough, I must go and shall stay, only to say once more, aloha :)

Toffy in love

2010-08-25T09:21:00.003+01:00

No, I'm not ripping off that famous film about Shakespeare, Toffy folks, is in love.

Well, more addicted... to Paramore.

I made the mistake of wandering into HMV before work on Saturday... Needless to say this wandering turn was influenced by a big red sign that said: "SALE!"... I couldn't resist.

Unfortunately, neither could my purse.

So approximately 15 minutes and a 2 for £10 offer later I was leaving the store with brand spanking new copies of Cheryl Cole's 3 words and Paramore's absolutely wonderful Brand New Eyes.

I have not stopped listening to the latter.

What else have I done this week? Well my baking has taken a back seat. In the words of Sarah Millican, I was worried I'd end up with a 'cake shelf', so I've basically gone cold turkey on the baking. Dad's not happy. Oh well, he's diabetic and even if he has no control, I'll bloody take control as much as I can for him.

Also went to see the un-bio sis' yesterday. We watched both Kill Bill films back to back (mainly because my new copy of Sweeny Todd with the delicious Johnny Depp wouldn't read in her DVD player) whilst eating a delightful chili chicken pizza. 'twas awesome.

What have I got in store for myself today I hear you cry? Well, I may or may not get around to updating an old story on fanfiction.net - I did one the other day and my readers were over the moon... though that might have something to do with my year long absence... Whoops.

Mom's hurt her back, so I reckon I'll also be doing some housework and Dad's had an accident in the kitchen this morning apparently, so it looks like the light in my room will not be looked at... again. I've only been without a light in my room since March. But hey, it's me. Not like I need it right?

*Scowls*. Anyway, I suppose I should carry on with my day of joy. Ha.

Oh Paramore, how I love thee, whenever I hear 'The only exception' I can't help but sway and smile. Perhaps today won't be so bad and boring after all.

One can only hope.

Aloha.

Chortle Fest

2010-08-19T19:33:00.012+01:00

Ok, so I needed cheering up, basically because I did (I don't want to bore you with particulars) so, after dossing on Facebook and reading some more of Emma I started trawling YouTube... and remembered some comedy gold, or at least I thought so.

The following three clips just go to prove that if you want to get money from the Great British public, all you have to do is get a guy to don drag and dance around a bit.

And this next clip features the brilliant DT (David Tennant) as the ghost of Christmas Present in Catherine Tate's parody of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. Why is this clip here? 1) I love David Tennant, enough said, but I shall continue. 2) His camp Scottish accent in this kills me every time. 3) I can't help but smile at seeing Casanova, nay the DOCTOR, flouncing around and talking like my sister does about fashion. Enjoy (and if you don't, quite frankly my dear, I think there's something wrong with you).

I think that'll do for the chortle fest for now.

Aloha.

Toffy peeks onto Blogger to find yet more spam from China

2010-08-04T17:23:00.003+01:00

Toffy has been feeling really poorly this week readers. I have a headache I can't seem to shift and I am utterly miserable, so I thought I'd impart this misery to you.

Lucky you.

Oh well, at least you didn't have the spam from Chinese absurdities to reject. I spontaneously reject them now (I did that before, but with less annoyance), I'm sick to death of them. They're not getting published on my blog and that's that, hence the comment moderation folks. Sorry about that, but it was the only way to stop it. Not that I've been getting many comments lately. People have obviously got lives to live at the moment. I envy you.

Anyway, as Lady Gaga plays out (yet again) from Radio One, I find myself compelled to write. With a slightly vodka martini induced haze I might add, so sorry for any keyboard slurs. Oh and that's not what's caused the headache before you comment saying I'm a drunk. I've had this on-off-on again headache for the past fortnight and whilst I like the odd drink, the most 'dangerous' thing I've drunk is pink lemonade. Far too much pink lemonade. I think I am addicted. Oh come on, its lemonade and PINK for God's sake. I cannot resist.

I've been on a baking spree lately. Last week I made jam tarts for the first time ever. The following day I made more jam tarts and my first ever batch of almond slices. Once these had all been consumed (which was not as long as you might think), I made yet another batch of jam tarts, almond tarts rather than slices (same recipe, just round this time) and some meringues. I had egg whites left over, how could I not make meringues?

Needless to say all the tarts are gone, the whole batch of meringues is left. But that is life I suppose.

I feel utterly manky. One good thing to report though, the new TV programme Sherlock is seriously rocking my socks. Between that and 101 ways to leave a game show I don't think my weekend viewing has been so addictive since Doctor Who finished its current series.

Ugh. Yet more rubbish from Radio One. I quite like Greg James, but this track is rubbish. I am going to sign off before my ears bleed. Quite profusely.

Aloha.

Time for a cheer up - it's part 2 of the Toffy Awards

2010-07-14T15:53:00.011+01:00

Toffy has been poorly people, actually, she still is, but I thought I'd take a break from reading Emma, playing The Sims 3 and Spore (and sneaking into the living room to play Lego Harry Potter on the Wii whilst the 'rents are asleep) to say Aloha.

Aloha.

There, I said it. That was an attempt at humour, I know it fell flat. Get over it, I'm not well and I don't think I'm particularly funny anyway.

Having said that, I thought I'd share some of my rather bizarre and random humour once again with you in this blog, with another edition of the Toffy Awards :D

I know, you can't contain your excitement.

Before I start, I've just realised I've done the wrong size for the video clips this time around, so you're going to have to click on some of them to get the full picture I think. Sorry about that.

Ok, first award this time round goes to my favourite robot EVER. Now, I know you'll be expecting me to say Kryton from Red Dwarf because I adore it, but no, I'm going to go for a different android. Partly because I love the actor doing the voice over - Alan Rickman is AWESOME - and because I think he has some of the best lines ever. Yes, you've guessed it its Marvin from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I have watched the series, but personally I prefer the film. I know its not as faithful to the book, but I have a short attention span, so the film's just about the right length for me.

This next video is from the genius that is Rowan Atkinson. I love him as Blackadder, but this video also cracks me up. I can't remember where I first saw it, but its just hilarious.

Ok, I can't leave Walk on the Wild Side alone... Reminding you all of 'La Marmot'...

I also love the crazy coffee addicted owls and the little mouse in this clip, oh and the salamander at the beginning is ace haha.

Hehe that little lizard asking about the toilet is exactly like some kids I know that live by me... or at least, before they grew up.

Anyway speaking of the crazy owls, I love Rhod Gilbert as a comedian. He was on Live at the Apollo last weekend, can't remember if it was a repeat or not, I think it was. I love his rants, they remind me so much of conversations I've had with my mates... yes, and we're not crazy Welsh people either... just plan crazy really.

Anyway, that'll have to do for now, I have house work to do before I cook dinner - chicken stir fry yum yum. Cooked mine and Mom's breakfast and a lovely dish for lunch, now doing dinner as well.

What am I? The new chef? -.-'

Aloha.

The Toffy Awards

2010-06-19T21:28:00.021+01:00

Ok, so I'm bored and I fancied surfing some YouTube when I thought, hang on a minute, I could actually put this boredom busting idea to good use.

Thus, Ladies and Gents, Boys and Girls, pets and aliens of all ages, I give to thee, the Toffy Awards - BAM BAM BAAAMMMM!

That was slightly less dramatic than I wanted, but oh well. Enough of this wittering, onto the awards :)

Ok first aware is for funniest scene that never fails to cheer me up. This has to go to Red Dwarf without a shadow of a doubt. I was considering Blackadder, but I have a different award in mind for said slithery friend, so I'm going to give this award to the unlikely heroes of the deep space mining ship. My favourite scene comes from the very beginning of the episode 'Terrorform'. The computer section is priceless.

For best scripting I have ever heard it has to, again, go to Red Dwarf. This time, I'm looking at the episode 'Quarantine'. One, Rimmer's in gingham. Two, he has blond pigtails... and army boots. Just wait until number three... he has a penguin puppet called Mr Flibble. Need I say more? Oh yes. I want a Mr Flibble hehe.

Ok, now onto Blackadder, for this wonderful show, I personally series 2 and 4 (Blackadder the second and Blackadder goes forth), and its these I have to highlight for their wonderful cameo roles. There are far too many videos to put up featuring all the many cameos, but my favourites have to be the ones made by Robbie Coltrane (in Blackadder the third), Tom Baker (in Blackadder the second) and Hugh Laurie (again Blackadder the second). In fact, the first video is of my favourite scenes of Hugh Laurie from the final episode of Blackadder the second general with , but the second and third videos feature the absolutely wonderful Stephen Fry as the hilarious hemorrhoids.

This next video is for most hilarious moment in a reality TV show. I love Gino and I love Stuart. They're both comedy gold. This video is purely for the bushtucker trial. I have not laughed so much during a reality TV programme. EVER.

Best comedy love song, has to go to this gem from Bill Bailey. I love this freaky troll like man with his shower curtain hair hehe.

'The duck lies shredded in a pancake... soaking in the hoi sin of your lies' haha. That bit always gets me. This song is as funny as the next video, but alas the next one can't win the prize for best comedy love song as its about zebras... all in the name of racial equality of course.

Cleverest joke I've come across so far, again goes to Bill Bailey, for his awesome Chaucer pub gag. I listened to this a first time when I started Intro to Lit 2 and couldn't make any sense of Chaucer. I was none the wiser, but I was a lot more cheerful haha. The version at the end of Bewilderness is better, but this is quicker to watch and I know I'm boring you now.

I think that will do for now dear readers, as it has taken me nearly two hours to find all these gems. I hope you've enjoyed them as much as I have and stay tuned for the next episode of the Toffy Awards :)

Aloha.

It may just be me...

2010-06-16T15:40:00.008+01:00

How is everyone on this fine and relatively sunny day? I (after a particularly low morning) am feeling marginally cheerful, namely because I have writing ficlets this afty, which have pleased me no end.

As for the birthday, it wasn't the fireworks and show stopping event that I had hope for, but it was enjoyable enough. I suppose. Since that fateful day when I became a fully fledged adult (commence weeping here), I have been listening to my two new albums non stop - Pixie Lott's Turn it Up and Lily Allen's It's not me, it's you - that's a brilliant title by the way. I would've bought it myself just for that really, but when your sister says she'll get you it, you don't complain.

One thing about said album though, whenever I hear this song...

I automatically think of this song...

and can't help laughing my head of as I dance around to it like a maniac.

Its the same with these:

But it may just be me.

Aloha.

I'll be frank...

2010-06-07T19:50:00.007+01:00

No, I'm not going all tomboy on you, I mean frank as in honest before you start wondering even more about my sanity, dear readers. Yes honesty, the main honest thing I have to convey in this blog is this:

JUNE FREAKING BLOWS

There, that didn't take long.

As for why it blows, that takes a little longer. You see, so far, my June has gone like this:

June 1st - Go to the Bullring in Birmingham to visit the CSI interactive experience with my un-bio sis. Get there to discover that the exhibit closed the day before. End up wandering aimlessly around Brum, buying a Subway and smuggling it into the Odeon cinema along with cheap bags of sweets to watch Prince of Persia. End up getting BBQ sauce down my t-shirt and bag in the dark. Ate far too many sweets. On the plus side, Jake Gyllenhaal is mighty fine - end up admiring him for most of the movie and just about managing to keep up with the plot. Go home, have pizza for dinner (regret this) and go to ice skating exam. Fall over twice, badly bruise knee. Somehow still manage to pass (levels 6 and 7 thank you very much). Get suspicious that the lad I've had my eye on is now taken. Best friend's niece is finally born. Yay for new life, bad time ahead for me.

June 2nd - Ache ferociously. Get dragged around Asda, Dunelm Mill and other boring shops in order to buy food and fabric sample for sister's fashion project. Get narky because I can't keep up 'cause of my knee. Go with Mom and Dad to complain about Dad's new glasses. End up going in shop a couple of doors down and buying box for friend's birthday present. Make another character on new role playing website because I am bored. Ogle pictures of Richard Armitage simply because I can. Watch The Vicar of Dibley special containing aforementioned specimen of gorgeousness on YouTube before proceeding to watch episodes of Blackadder, again on YouTube.

June 3rd - Still aching. Get a call from work offering extra hours next week. Accept 2 full days (9AM-7PM), completely forgetting that Mom has booked the whole week off to spend time with me before my 21st on Saturday... Oooops. Explain this to Mother. Mother is livid but finds it hilarious that I've done something as daft as she would.

June 4th - Wrap mates pressies and work out how to get to Stoke on Trent for mate's uni sleepover 21st birthday thingy. Still aching, bruise is rather impressive. Play on new Sims game all day as it arrived yesterday. Am over enthusiastic on Wii Sports Resort and make arms BURN.

June 5th - Go to work for early shift. Turns into an all day shift. Have to text friend and apologise cannot make it to Stoke after all. Curse employment people. Curse fate. Bemoan fact that I spent valuable time wrapping pressies with love, care and attention when could have been ogling Chad Michael Murray on One Tree Hill DVD. Sulk. Moan about extra hours being so long and me being so daft. Have suspicions confirmed about lad from skating via Facebook. Oh joy of joys. Swear off men forever - they are all nobs. Then think this is foolish, from experience I will go all giggly over a celeb crush and pain will be forgotten. Repeat process several times to rid memory of aforementioned loser. Watch more episodes of Blackadder.

June 6th - Lament June being so sucky already. Wish can start month over from scratch. End up having no relaxing Sunday because sister asks for help with Fashion Project. End up spending entire day half watching Scrapheap Challenge whilst sewing pearls, ribbons, gems and Lord knows what else, here there and everywhere. Sister probably won't even use said work anyway because my sewing's pants. Grrrrr.

June 7th - Wish other close friend happy birthday. Feel manky and sick. Wish June would hurry up and die. Contemplate work tomorrow and consider skipping ice skating lesson as will be muchos tired and generally ready to keel over. Will also mean avoiding stupid loser. Cannot make decision regarding missing lesson. Make dinner, feel ill afterwards. Make lunch for work tomorrow. Decide to write blog because I am bored.

So yeah, that's my June so far. It blatantly blows.

Also, WHO THE HELL ARRANGED FOR ENGLAND TO PLAY IN THE WORLD CUP ON MY BIRTHDAY?!

I detest football. With a passion. I will stand it merely for the love of my friends, but on my freaking birthday?! Nah uh. Its banned in our house. Dad's not even bothered, he doesn't care about the football either. But you should have seen his face when I tried to ban the Grand Prix this weekend too. He threw his toys, quite literally. Well fine. Watch it, see if I care. Me and Mom are going to sod off out shopping anyway and we'll have a lovely morning by ourselves.

Happy 21st Birthday to me.

NOT.

Aloha.

P.S. June, officially and unequivocally, sucks.

P.S.S. On the plus side, I got 4 Bs this semester, meaning I have 6 Bs and 2 Cs from this year at uni :D Get in :D No resists *dances*. Unfortunately for my opinion of the month of June at this moment in time, this news came in May. So yeah, June still sucks.

Toffy pretends she's an ostrich geologist

2010-05-07T19:17:00.004+01:00

Now that the election's over (which to be quite honest, I've been bored with for a good while) we can all finally continue living our lives in the UK... Or not, as the press won't leave it alone.

Oh well, I'll just have to make friends with some more ostriches and get back to examining the layer just under the Earth's crust.

Not much has really been happening in Toffy-land that isn't to do with uni work folks. I spent my Easter holiday (and a good week before hand where I was unable to attend uni) semi-conscious due to a chest infection. I'm quite prone to these nasty blighters and often sound like some sort of reject from the Kermit the Frog auditions, but this latest one was particularly bad - so much so it caused me not to go ice skating for well over a month.

I started having withdrawal symptoms.

But its not all bad news though. In an effort to improve my writing, I've gotten back into free online role playing forums. Essentially, you and a group of people create a story step by step, I got into it purely by accident in Y9 when I stumbled across it trying to find ff.net because I'd mislaid my piece of paper with the addy on. Well, the old forum host I used to use died, so I haven't undertaken this hobby in absolutely ages. However, once again, I've stumbled across a forum whilst researching some info for a novel I haven't touched in a while.

Yay me. Unfortunately, I have become addicted to it. Not good, but at least it shall give me something to do during the holidays when I need a break from Independent Study research.

Speaking of which, I really must get around to submitting my ideas, all of which are... ummmm desperate to say the least. I've been too busy trying to survive second year to really think about topics... well, trying to survive and kick up a fuss about modules, which, fingers crossed, will soon be getting somewhere.

The only other interesting thing is that I've taken some extra hours at work recently to pay for another set of ice skating lessons. Yay. Extra 10 hours = 2 days extra pay and little more besides at the end of May, thank you very much. Just in time for my birthday too... Impeccable timing and all by accident, how cool is that?

Anyway, I have now got to go and return to cooking dinner as the oven's bleeping ferociously at me... Well actually, it's quite a pathetic bleep to be honest for such a large oven, but I like the word 'ferociously'.

Aloha.

I'm the Queen of Sheba

2010-04-22T22:09:00.003+01:00

Ok, so I'm sitting here, waiting for Russel Howard's usual brilliant programme to come onto BBC3 so I can oggle and giggle a bit, realising how tired I am and that I haven't blogged in a while.

Shame on you Toffy!

Oh come on, like I really give a monkey's.

Anyway, I felt the need to post, well, any sort of drivel really, so :P you can either read it and prove that you're as bored as I am, or get lost. I really don't care.

You know why I don't care? We got some news today. They've found more cancer in Dad's lymph nodes. If that wasn't superb enough, it seems certain that he's going to require more surgery. Said surgery is going to be booked asap and is likely to fall around, if not on, the same weekend, possibly even the same day as my 21st birthday.

Gee, won't that be something absolutely terrific to remember?

Plus uni's being evil. Work's piling up into a beautiful (HA) crescendo for the end of the second year. That I don't mind at all, I was expecting it and prepared. I wasn't prepared for feeling absolutely sick to death at the thought that I might fail and have to resit everything in a blind panic. I really should have foreseen this, it happens every time assessments come up, but I'm an idiot with the (urban mythological) memory span of a goldfish... with amnesia.

Anyway, we're starting a petition because there's a load of us CPW students that are in uproar at the bigwigs who think they know best. They don't and if the current state of the petition papers I have is anything to go by they really, really don't. (That's putting it as politely and discretely as I can on here, I shan't tarnish my blog's boredom record by suddenly tearing into a successive list of impressive curse words... sorry to disappoint you).

So yes, Toffy's life is the perfect picture of absolute joy and perfectness. Ha, I'm also the Queen of Sheba, the Empress of the Moon and I'm also 17 foot tall with my own weather system orbiting my head.

Laters, I need painkillers and a Martini before Russel comes on else in my rather sucky mood I shan't be able to appreciate his wonderful-ness.

Aloha.

"Still breathing?" "Just about."

2010-03-22T11:47:00.008Z

Ok, so I'm still alive, yay. Seriously, I am still breathing, I just feel immensely crap right now. I've been feeling poorly since Thursday afternoon (which is why I missed uni on Friday, will be missing it today and dragged my sorry backside into work on Saturday only to literally curse everything I touched. I blame the lurgy).

Anyway, in short, Toffy has been oh so silent because Toffy has been busy being run into the ground by a very hectic schedule.

Oh, get me with the poshness.

Basically, my March so far as been as follows:

Monday 1st - Contemplate the busyness that will swamp me soon and panic about 5th ice skating lesson.

Tuesday 2nd - Drag sorry backside into uni early for Critical Theory as usual. Look like a bag woman with ice skates and insanely bulky uni bag, however looking stylish with curly hair (created using the curling wand I had for Chrimbo). Panic some more about ice skating lesson. Pay attention in Critical Theory and only understand what's going on because I listened to the same lecture last year. Go to ice rink 2 hours early because of the bus, sit reading Middlemarch. Reach page 320 and feel proud, then realise I've only gotten to said page and I started reading it in week 1. Realise that this makes me a very bad person.

Wednesday 3rd - Feel very sore after ice skating lesson. Try to enjoy day off, actually spend it panicking over Journalism assignment, trying to read more of Middlemarch and reading Critical Theory book. Spending 3 hours shopping in town doesn't help matters either.

Thursday 4th - Use reading week from Realism lecture to do work on Varieties of English essay. Cry because said essay is pants. Spend afternoon doing work for Journalism. Go late night ice skating, fall over practising ordinary skating and feel stupid, whilst looking like I've been swimming. Nail the 3-turn... in soaked trousers. Nice image.

Friday 5th - Sniffle and ache all the way through Journalism. Return home to do work, talk to friendy on the phone whilst trying to work. Feel like some sort of high flying business woman with five different windows open on the computer and friend on speaker phone. Reverie ends with me falling asleep at keyboard.

Saturday 6th - Late shift at work. Ugh. Transport issues getting home. Double ugh. Food shopping after getting off extra long bus ride. Someone shoot me now.

Sunday 7th - Cook Sunday dinner and panic over Varieties essay and Journalism work. Make Journalism look like the magazine. Spend 2 hours making it look pretty to find we don't have to do anything of the sort. Spend the following hour grumbling to myself whilst roasting potatoes, checking the roast and making gravy whilst listening to Pink's Funhouse album... Again.

Monday 8th - Go into uni early to work on Varieties presentation. Stress that essay has typos and re-print it at uni. Hand essay in and feel good for exactly 0.2 seconds before returning to panic about presentation. Work on Journalism profile from 7:15 pm to 10:30 pm. Go to bed exhausted.

Tuesday 9th - 6th and final ice skating lesson = exam. Pass all 3 taught levels with flying colours (Yay), now qualified up to level 5 Skate UK. Friends bursts bubble by achieving levels 6 to 8. Cheers.

Wednesday 10th - Laptop is knackered when I wake up. Spend day in PC world buying a new laptop. Overdraft hates me. Set up new laptop (finished by 5:30). Have dinner and curse world silently in my head. Work on Journalism profile from 7:30pm-9:30pm before crawling to bed with a rum and cola and some pain killers.

Thursday 11th - Go to uni for Middlemarch lecture. Stay and work on presentation for Monday for another 3 hours. Get home and stress over Journalism profile. Work on said profile from 9:00pm to 12:30. Get to sleep at 1:30 after watching some comedy on youtube in an attempt to relax.

Friday 12th - Wake up feeling muchos bad. Have blazing row with Father. Smack wall repeatedly. Edit Journalism profile. Miss first bus. Edit Journalism profile some more. Miss second bus. Grandmother turns up, say hello, rush off to uni. Travel for 2 hours. Spend 3 minutes on campus. Travel home for another 2 hours. Shut self away in room with cola and a DVD - QI series 1. Fall asleep, wake up at 3AM (DVD had finished).

Saturday 13th - Early shift at work. Walk around like some freakish cheerful zombie. Get told off for talking too loud during sorting duty. Pull faces behind the shelves for the rest of the shift.

Sunday 14th - Try to chill, then realise I have to read Middlemarch and work on presentation for Monday whilst cooking Sunday dinner again.

Monday 15h - Go into uni early to rehearse Journalism presentation. Forget paper copy of results and have to print them off and fill them in again. Printer card doesn't have enough money. Realise I forgot memory stick in cafe. Run back to cafe dodging annoying people trying to get me to vote on SU elections. Run back to computer building with memory stick, dodging people again. Run to library to top up printer card, this time SU people avoid me (wise decision), run back to computer building, print work. Do presentation, shaking throughout. Panic it wasn't good enough. Go home and collapse in a heap with cola and more pain killers. Bunny looks at me with concern and decides to stay away from stressed owner and warm self by radiator. Rabbit has more sense than I do.

Tuesday 16th - Got to Critical Theory lecture, understand what's going on (to my amazement), but still receive headache. Enjoy first night at home, not having to wait at a freezing cold ice rink for 2 hours. Talk to friendy on phone. Find out some smile inducing info. Go to bed looking forward to tomorrow and smiling over info.

Wednesday 17th - Double take photo shoot day in Birmingham. Meet friend in Brum 1 1/2 hours early. Enjoy a hot chocolate in MacDonald's whilst friend reads a paper she swiped from downstairs and I eat some snack a jacks. Watch a man that's fallen asleep by the window. Bless. Have an awesome day and spend a lot more than I meant to (the photos were gorgeous and its rare I get a photo I'm actually proud of). Go home glowing, trying not to think of money spent.

Thursday 18th - Realise I will never look so pretty again. Go to uni feeling really poorly, wondering if I have caught friend's cold. Go home feeling miserable and utterly panicked by impending essay deadline. Start writing essay, manage to come up with 420 words.

Friday 19th - Continue to feel so pants decide not to go to uni even though I got up and got ready to go. End up watching One Tree Hill twice 'cause I missed the beginning. Spend 3 hours on essay... End up writing 600 words. Watch Sport Relief. Fall asleep before special Mock the Week comes on, am gutted.

Saturday 20th - Late shift at work. Go shopping after for dinner. Dad starts row over dinner, Mom and I ignore him. Eat pasta dinner thinking it was much tastier without the cream anyway. Go to sleep and have nightmares about naffing essay. Realise I need to get out more.

Sunday 21st - Work on essay from 10:45 AM until 16:05 PM having written 1025 words. Still think essay's pants but brain's had enough. Over word limit anyway. Editing starts tomorrow. Have Chinese take away for dinner. Feeling sick after. Talk to friend on Facebook whilst watching Dancing on Ice. Contemplate how sick I feel and go to bed early.

Monday 22nd - Wake up feeling crap. Can't face food. Watch One Tree Hill. Feel weak. Decide not to go to uni. Haul self upstairs after tidying kitchen and dining room table. Have a coffee and still feel sick. Watch YouTube videos of Walk on the Wild Side. Cheer up a bit. Get a text from friend in lecture saying they're poorly and not going in. Respond that I was just about to text her saying the same thing. Get bored. Check email. Check Facebook... again. Decide to check blog. Realise have been rather neglectful. Decide to write a new blog. Can't think of anything to say... Start rambling.

And that's pretty much where I've gotten to, and, seen as you're probably bored stiff by now I think I'll leave it there. Especially as I haven't done my interesting word list homework yet. Besides, I really should look at editing that essay.

Aloha.

Interesting words part 2

2010-02-25T15:57:00.005Z

Ok, so I'm really, really bored and I have a colossal headache brewing. Basically, this morning's lecture was good, I enjoyed it anyway - any lecture that shows clips of Colin Firth in a wet shirt gets the thumbs up from me - and I actually contributed quite a bit to the class, go me.

Today Mom and Dad went to the hospital in Stoke to get results of some scan or other. I didn't hear anything until I finally got home, by which point I was shattered (2 hours travelling by public transport in the rain will do that to you), only to find that there's nothing to know. The scan hasn't shown anything up, but the blood tests or something have shown up a concern and they're not ruling out more surgery. Great, super, fantastic. Not.

Also, nobody told me there's a max limit of reservations you're allowed from the uni library. I tried to make my 6th one only to find you're only allowed to make 5. Oh well, if they find the ones I've requested quick enough I can pick them up tomorrow and order some more.

I pity the poor person they send to go and find them, I have enough of that on a Saturday. At least they have the full titles and authors, I tend to get, "Oh you know, that one about that kid, it has a blue cover", or something like that.

Anyway, this is meant to be the next installment of my interesting words list, so I'll get right back to it:

apoplexy: Stroke; a sudden, usually marked loss of bodily function due to rupture or occlusion of a blood vessel; a hemorrhage into a organ cavity or tissue.

osculate: to come into close contact or union; (in geometry) to touch another curve or another part of the same curve so as to have the same tangent and curvature at the point of contact (yeah, I was lost when I read that as well, I drew it out, it helped a little... I think); to kiss.

Synecdoche: (noun) A figure of speech in which a part is used for the whole or the whole for a part, the special for the general or the general for the special, as in ten sail for ten ships or a Croesus for a rich man (still don't understand, but it looks a cool word).

Idiograph: (noun) A mark or signature characteristic of a particular person, organization etc.

bona fide: made, done, presented etc in good faith; without deception or fraud; authentic; true (I just like saying this word)

Enclave: (noun) a part of a country that is surrounded by another country, or a group of people who are different from the people living in the surrounding area (another word I just like the sound of)

cosh: (verb) to hit someone with a cosh (I saw the word on the online Cambridge dictionary and just laughed, so I had to find out what the noun 'cosh' was...)

cosh: (noun) a short heavy stick made of metal or rubber used as a weapon (I want one now, just so I can 'cosh' someone hehe).

Hmm I think that'll do for now. Besides, I should really a) dance to a bit of Pink's album Funhouse in my room (currently 'So What?') and then do some more uni work.

Aloha.

Interesting words part 1

2010-02-18T21:54:00.005Z

Ok, so I started to make an interesting words list as a part of a project for a uni module in my first semester at my current uni (said project was self-induce and lasted a grand total of a week and half or so).

The project was to find an interesting word once a week, so by the end of a year, I'd have a list of 52 interesting words that could start off a story or inspire a train of thought for a story, etc. etc.

Well, seen as it's the middle of February and I'd been so lackadaisical with it before, I thought I'd start off with a bumper crop, so here's a mini list to get this into action...

Defenestration - This has to be one of my favourite words of all time. It simply means 'the act of throwing something, or someone, out of a window.

Trepanning - An ancient medical technique that involved drilling into the patient's scull.

Hypnagogic - Of, pertaining to, or occurring in the state of drowsiness preceding sleep.

Vivify - To make more lively or intense or to endue with life; to make alive; to animate.

Billet-doux - A love letter or note.

Taradiddle - A petty falsehood (fib); pretentious nonsense.

Vitiate - To make faulty or imperfect; to render defective; to impair or to corrupt morally, to debase or to render ineffective

I think that will do for now. Has anyone else got any interesting words?

Resolution report: 18/02/10

2010-02-18T21:38:00.004Z

Ok, so I know I haven't blogged in absolutely aaaages, well I've been busy, namely reading ahead for my Realism and Critical Theory modules (because I'm insane) and avoiding Valentine's Day and what not.

Anyway, seeing as February has almost bitten the proverbial dust, I thought I'd yet again see how those resolutions were coming along...

1) I still haven't fallen out of any vehicles and, since the last blog, I haven't fallen into any either. Result number 1.

2) One has still reduced one's swearing, all be it marginally because I've been poorly (and still am) and I get very testy when I'm poorly. Hmmm, more work needed here me thinks.

3) According to my beloved Wii the other day (which I think was Wednesday, if I remember rightly) I have re-lost the little bit of weight I'd put on after losing all my Chrimbo weight and then some. Wootage, careful eating and stupid amounts of walking upstairs are actually paying off... All be it slowly. Result number 2.

4) I've been ice skating so much this year, my overdraft is starting to look peaky again. I decided to take lessons asap as they were on special offer at my local rink and I've had 3 of the 6 lessons. They're on about starting level 6 with my group next week... I don't want to do a 3 turn!!! Result number 3.

5) Still haven't been swimming yet. Complete failure.

6) Have been seeing a lot more of my one un-bio sis', still need to catch up more with the others. MSN does not count. Still making more time for friends than last year though. Results number 4, though more work is needed.

7) Have still not finished a story. In fact, I've made the problem worse by starting another story after an idea I had on the bus to uni on Tuesday. Complete failure number 2.

8) Still blogging, squeezing Volvo-sized thighs into jeans and being self-deprecating whilst ogling Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice... Yep, still definitely on track.

9) Still on track, could do with doing more jogging and Hula Hoop in my pjs on the Wii though.

10) Hmmmm, yeah I still think I'm pathetic in an adorable way...

So yeah, that's what? Um, about 7ish/10. Not bad, I'd normally have broken them all by now.

Ah well, that's life suppose (I would've been all posh and put the French equivalent in just there, but I've forgotten the key combo to put the accent in). I've got to get somewhere with analysing my own idiolect for Varieties in English. So far, all I've managed to establish is that I'm extremely North Staffs when I'm in a formal setting and I drift into (and God how I hate to admit this) a Brummie (ARGH!) / Black Country twang when in an informal setting. Now just to analyse exactly how I know this...

Big chief boss man, please, have mercy on me. Oh, and please stop the snow, I have to catch a bus at 7:50 in the morning, which is so not nice in the snow.

And yes, that is the polite version.

Aloha.

P.S. How's everyone else doing with their New Year's resolutions? Or have we all conveniently forgotten them? ;)

Resolution report: 17/01/10

2010-01-17T21:57:00.003Z

Yes, we're 17 days into the New Year and I thought, lets have a look at that resolution list, shall we?

1) I haven't fallen out of any vehicles - yet. Though wearing my wellies has caused me to fallen into a couple.
2) One has been reducing one's swearing. I've not said much worse than fudge it and damn so far, apart from 4 hours in, but I'm blaming my silly sister and the Cava for that.
3) I've almost lost my Christmas weight, just one more pound and the damage Christmas did will have been erased, which is not bad really.
4)I've been ice skating this year :D hurt my legs and my shoulder is still wrecking (I think I may have pulled something in the shoulder area) but I haven't been since September or whenever it was, so twinges are to be expected. Another visit is planned this week. Woo!
5) Haven't been swimming yet. Note to self, still need to purchase some goggles.
6) Have seen two old friends so far for catch ups, fun and Chrimbo pressie exchange. Another meet up is planned too, so double woo!
7) Um, not finished a story, but wrote another 6 chapters, so that's not all bad. My lovely beta reader seems to like it. Which is good as she's the only person I've allowed to read it so far.
8) Well I'm back on Blogger and still have thighs to rival a rhino's so I'm guessing the road to Bridget Jones-dom is still on track.
9) Losing the Chrimbo weight is a start, more pretending to be a chicken and jogging in my PJ's in the living room is obviously needed.
10) Um yeah. If my self-depreciating annoyance was anything to go by during our ice skating meet up, the self-acceptance isn't going well.

So yes, a relatively mixed bag, but better than previous years, so I think I'll give myself.... ummm... 7/10 I think. Wootage.

Lets see how things progress, I'm bound to slip up sooner or later, the question is when. How are your resolutions going dear readers? I hope they go well (unless they were over ambitious in the first place, in which case I console you and advise you to purchase and consume some chocolate or your particular choice of comfort food/beverage).

Aloha.

Irony - Getting your Christmas spirit once the 12 days of Christmas are over

2010-01-07T18:14:00.004Z

Yep, Toffy is in lets play in the snow and watch TV with a hot chocolate mode now that Christmas is over. Typical.

Oh well, my final assignment for this semester was submitted today (I felt like I was signing away my life for some reason or another) and began my 'proper' Christmas break by visiting a certain well known and established Pizza vendor in town. Awesome. In wellies. Stylish. Sarcasm? Perhaps.

Anyway, my sister braved the trip to college today whilst I endeavoured to make the trip into uni, to be rewarded by being virtually the only one of her class to turn up.

Cue attempts to stifle giggles.

Tomorrow, I plan to meet an old school friend and one of my un-bilogical sisters to be (marginally) uncharacteristically silly - we plan to play in the snow in the park like big kids - before venturing to one of our abodes to play on the Wii/watch a film. Sounds mighty fine if you ask me.

Then, in the next fortnight, I shall attempt to plow through the list of books I have to read for the upcoming semester. I'm determined to continue to work hard, even if my grades, whilst still passing, didn't fully live up to my hopes. Lets see if I can get past page 3 of Frankenstein this year without the mental block of 'Walton is a complete fruit loop' - that's the polite version.

Oh well, I've already read Pride and Prejudice and Bridget Jones' Diary, so there's two books off the list. I think I shall make notes on each of the books so that when we come to study them in later weeks I'll remember what the Dickens they're about.

Speaking of which, I better dust off my copy of Great Expectations that's been sitting on my desk since the beginning of semester 1.

Laters peoples.

Aloha.

"Your leg's shaking a bit, keep it steady."

2010-01-04T22:42:00.014Z

Whilst consuming a re-run of Mock the Week on Dave, I decided to write a blog, basically because I'm bored and I decided you all should be too.

My mother always taught me to share, after all.

So, what can I possibly bore you with? Umm... er...

Hasn't it been cold lately?

In all seriousness, I seem to have a lot of plans being formulated around me and not a lot of enthusiasm for them. Why must teenage apathy extend into the early twenties? I'm supposedly going shopping tomorrow with the Mother (weather permitting), handing in an essay and going for pizza on Thursday, meeting old friends for a catch up asap as well as going ice skating with my ice skating buddy. Hmmm, that seems to have flared up a little enthusiasm. Obviously, I need to re-read that list over and over until I feel a slight spark of excitement.

One thing that has got me mildly excited - Dancing on Ice starts this Friday. A couple of weeks of glitter and sequins deprivation because Strictly's finished and now the more death defying version graces our screens on ITV. This year, as with any other year, I know almost half of the 'celebrities' on the show - that is not including Torvil and Dean, Phillip Scofield (I can't get the image of him and Gordon the Gofer out of my subconscious) and Holly Willoughby. Oh well, at least I have a couple of months of ice, acrobatics, lycra clad celebs with big hair that have been dipped in a bath of spangles to look forward to.

I'm such a naffing magpie. I reckon I was one in a previous life. As opposed to a chicken...

Speaking of Phillip and Holly, I watched a little bit of This Morning, this morning, well I think it was actually lunchtime, right about the time I was eating my jacket potato and Philadelphia lunch. They were doing a segment on five people who are on this weight loss challenge thing. This reminded me of the fact that me, Mom and Dad were meant to start the 'diet' I started last year. I say diet, it's more of a lifestyle change really. Well, Mom's poorly, so she fell asleep and said 'Stuff the diet' (that's the polite version), I didn't expect my Dad to take to it, he's just eating himself to death at the moment, but hell hath no fury like him when someone tries to point this out politely. Thus, after having my very good breakfast of a small bowl of cereal with the UHT skimmed milk I've been brought up on and the healthy lunch I was munching, I 'accidentally' remembered the half a slab of Cadbury's dairy milk sitting in the fridge. Needless to say it's not sitting there anymore.

Never mind, I burnt 100+ calories on the Wii this morning anyway and looked like a right spaz doing super hula hoop. As for that stupid virtual trainer bint, she can go catch a Trojan.

"Your leg's shaking a bit, keep it steady."

Naff off love, it's alright for you, you're virtual, I'm having to work with the real chuffing thing. Stupid thin and impossibly flexible tart. I still got a muscle legend score... Just not on that exercise.

Ok, so I think you're bored enough now and Mock the Week is getting to a funny bit, so I'm going to sign off now.

Plus my laptop power cable is once again, naffing up. ARGH!

Aloha.

Start as you mean to go on

2010-01-01T01:12:00.007Z

Toffy's log, um number whatever of the Earth date 02/01/10 - Yeah, I was forced to endure Star Trek as a kid... Not that I'm embittered by it or anything. Although, I'm loving the fact that the dude who plays Syler in Heroes plays Spock in the new movie... Mmmmmmm...

Ok, sidetrack over... Bit bad to be on a sidetrack before the main blog even starts, but there you go. Back to the proper intro Toffy.

So in the early hours of yesterday morning, after drinking Cava with the 'rents and seeing the new year in (mass texting option is awesome by the way), I, stupidly, decided I wanted to play on the Wii.

2 glasses of Cava does not improve my coordination, I have found. Although Mom did find my attempt at the advanced obstacle course hilarious.

My sister couldn't get a taxi home so my Mom called up the stairs at 2:30, "Will you come pick the sprog up with me?". My Dad was already in bed, to be polite I replied that I would.

That is why I ended up going to pick up an almost 17 year old in a car with a broken heater at a time of night when the temperature was -7, in my freaking PJs, fluffy dressing gown and my slip on boots.

I slept most of the next day, I won't say it was hypothermia, but if I was a hypochondriac, I'd have admitted myself into Stafford General.

Anyway, it's my sister's birthday today, so Happy Birthday Spork Moose. 17. Ugh, that makes me feel old. Not to mention she's legal to learn how to drive now. I'm concerned, the world hasn't seen how she is on Midtown Madness 3.

Oh well, we all have things to deal with I suppose. I myself, am wondering how on Earth to pay for the massive joint 21st birthday party we started to plan, I'm hoping the tutoring programme get back to me sharpish.

Work today was, once again, pointless. I spent 3 hours straight sorting, then served a grand total of 1 customer before doing some shelving and acting as a glorified pack mule taking the books from the Lending Library up to the Ref library. My arms wreck.

And if that wasn't enough, David Tennant, the Doctor of Toffy happiness, has finally retired his trench coat and returned his TARDIS key. Matt Smith better live up to those pretty scarlet sneakers, that's all I can say. Oh and what the hell was with that freaking bow tie in the trailer? He looked like a recently unpacked professor -.-

Enough ranting, I have a giant Aero or a Cadbury Dairy milk in the fridge to choose from and Dad promised to make me another snowball (Advocat, Lime cordial and Lemonade, yummy). Plus I want to see my sister and her boy friend play on the Wii, there's nothing funnier than two gangly lanky people pretend to be chickens.

Laters peoples.

Aloha.

New Year's Hoo Ha, here's to pretending to be a chicken!

2009-12-31T21:17:00.009Z

Here's to my usual New Year's hoo ha, in other words, staying at home, waiting for midnight with my family asleep around me - all of whom wake up at 11:55, leaving me to spend a good 3 hours on my own in solitude. Yay.

Oh well, there's worse fates I suppose. This year, after playing 'Tumbling Monkeys' with the 'rents - my sister had already plunged out into the darkness with her friends - good luck with that - Dad put Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest on the TV. We have it on DVD. I have seen it lord knows how many times. Thus I have ended up in my room, watching The Big Bang Theory (AWESOME) writing a blog because I feel guilty for not writing one in a while.

Thus, I come full circle in my Bridget Jones transformation. Praise be to chocolate.

Christmas was Christmas as usual. I helped Dad cook the dinner, we ate far too much, I got battered by an obstacle course, went cycling with a puppy and pretended to be a chicken - Wii fit plus rocks, but I'd like to point out chickens don't normally fly that high - Mom and Dad fell asleep for a bit, I watched TV and played on the Sims 3 and we ate turkey sandwiches whilst Archie Mitchell finally got his just desserts. All in all, not a bad Christmas really.

Plus I adore my new hair curler and my slipper socks off my sister that make me look even more like an Umpa Lumpa. The day off from work was not unwelcome either.

I'd like to say 2009 has been a good year for me and, I suppose in some ways it has - I'm still breathing and typing, things could be a lot worse.

Unless that is worse for you readers, in which case I apologise.

To say 2009 sucked would be an understatement, but to be fair, 'the noughties' as they have been dubbed pretty much sucked throughout, so I can't really complain. What with the tornado of teen years and the traumas fate has dealt me, to see my family still surviving and standing in a relatively undamaged piece is a blessing in itself and it is that I shall hold onto as the clock strikes Midnight and 2010 dawns.

To think, in a few hours time I will have lived in four separate decades and I'm not even 21 yet. It doesn't even bear thinking about.

On an upside, the end of 2009 hasn't been so bad. I really enjoyed a surprise birthday party I went to on the 20th, despite giving myself blisters from helping with the balloons. It was worth it though, I danced the night away with some of my closest friends (mainly because one left early because she had to get up early in the morning - something to do with turkeys, I thought it best not to ask too much), wore a stunningly plain and yet admired by friends LBD (little black dress, duh) and killed myself in stupidly high silver stilettos. Marks out of 10 for the evening: 9.5, it would've been a 10 if I hadn't fallen out of the limo on arrival... Hmm, I promised not to speak of that again... Woops. My dignity was in tact for the most part, my tights weren't even laddered, although I did get a rather cold backside from the icy cobbled pavement. Bless my best mate's brother, her boyfriend and the limo driver for all, separately, trying to catch me... and failing miserably, although we all did have a good laugh.

Oh well, the lady who drove us home in the taxi was very nice and we must've entertained her because she reduced our fare. She must've found our discussion about parties and loosing one's dignity rather amusing.

As for resolutions for New Year, I normally make one or two and normally, I fail miserably, so, in an attempt to force myself to stick to them, I've decided to publish those I think I might be able to manage here:

1) Do one's best not to fall out of any vehicles for 12 months. Although to be fair, it wasn't really my fault it was icy.
2) Try to reduce one's swearing to a minimum. No worse than fudge monkeys and cockfosters from now on. Ha, like that's going to happen.
3) Lose another 2 stone by the end of 2010, bringing the grand total up to 5 stone, 1 pound.
4) Go ice skating on a more regular basis.
5) Start swimming again.
6) To arrange more time to see old friends.
7) To actually finish a fan fiction story I have started. I have started approximately 20, 9 are published and only 1 is complete.
8) Continue down the path to becoming a real life Bridget Jones - this, I fear, is inevitable, but if I end up with Colin Firth, do I really care?
9) Drop another dress size by the end of the year. I have at the moment, definitely lost 1, the other one is in question as it is in certain stores only.
10) Become more self accepting. Like that's ever going to happen.

So, only a few resolutions this year. I bet I manage exactly... 0.

Happy New Year to all you dear readers, whether you be closely trusted old friends, uni friends, uni acquaintances, random people who show up for a giggle or, well who ever. May your year be a joyous and happy one and may karma give you what you truly deserve, eventually.

Aloha.

Why I wish life could be like it is in the adverts

2009-12-15T17:38:00.008Z

Ok, now before you say I watch too much TV, I would like to point out that I sleep a lot when I can so I can't watch TV all the time. Therefore, I can't be watching it too much.

That logic made sense when I started typing.

Anyway, the Malteasers adverts rock. I especially love the one where the woman swaps her mates jeans for the Barbie doll's... I wouldn't do that to my sister... Much.

How cool would it be though, if life were like that? Where you could eat chocolate forever and not so much as put a pound on. Where you could flash a bloke at work and nothing would come of it? Sounds pretty cool to me, even if I'm not one for crossing the borders of social etiquette.

There are a number of adverts I like. For example, the Dr. Pepper one at the following link and this Robinsons advert. How cool would it be if all birds had a Tardis for a home?

Its not just adverts that I'd like life to be like. If life really was like it is in the movies, we'd either be constantly running The Day after Tomorrow stylie, or, like I'd like it to be, Love Actually stylie, or Night at the Museum that would rock. I would so love to talk to a miniature Owen Wilson look a like cowboy. Plus playing fetch with a T-Rex just looks like fun.

I will now leave you with, possibly, one of my favourite bits of TV viewing ever. Its from this year's I'm A Celebrity - I'm addicted to that programme - featuring the wonderfully hilarious Gino D'Acampo and the lovely Stuart Manning, enjoy :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpLwIzlQnzI

Aloha.

P.S. Thank you to everyone who's been leaving comments on my various blog posts, I have just replied to the last one, but I thought I better say thank you here, just in case people don't read them again :)

Sometimes, I wonder why I bother

2009-12-12T21:12:00.005Z

Yes ladies and gents, Toffy is in one of the those moods again. One of what moods? The kind of mood where not even the spangly-ness of Strictly could make me see the point of it all. Not the dancing, that obviously has a point, it's fun.

No, what I mean is, I've worked my backside off at uni this semester. I've kept up with my reading, I got my essays done early so I could tweak them (as regular readers will be aware) and I still didn't get the grades I'm used to. Yes I've passed, but its still a come down from last year.

The really annoying thing is though, is that I can see where I've gone wrong once the lecturers point it out, I just don't know why I didn't spot the flaws and correct them because I definitely had the time. All I can hope is that I improve from now on and don't make the same stupid mistakes without realising.

Frustration is an understatement.

As for work, there's a staff shortage at the moment which means I can't book any leave, not even for my sister's birthday. This wouldn't be a problem usually because said sibling usually naffs off out with her mates on said "hallowed" day. I even asked back in August whether she wanted me to book the day off. She didn't give me an answer.

Then, recently, she asks me if I booked it off and then got stroppy when I said no and there was no chance in hell of me getting it now.

That went down like the proverbial lead welly.

What's supremely frustrating though is that, due to Chrimbo coming up, we have a distinct shortage of customers, so the staff shortage doesn't really matter, we still have too many people there to work. After spending two hours stamping blank date labels with the branch name in the corner and the telephone numbers at the bottom, I then shelved the general reserve skip into the basement (creepy beyond words as you can hear everyone walking about upstairs and you feel like you're being followed/watched), and shelved the non-fiction. This was after shelving some fiction and the left over non-fiction from that morning.

Bored doesn't do today justice.

To be fair, a trained chimp could have done my job today. More fool the council for paying me to do it instead.

Oh well. Its all money for Chrimbo pressies isn't it? I suppose all that's left to do is have a peanut butter sandwich, a glass of red wine and watch Ronnie O'Sullivan's monumental comeback (to win hopefully) in the snooker.

Aloha.

P.S. I do realise that some readers may say I am essentially a trained chimp anyway due to what we know about evolution. To them I say :P and that I can play Spore better than any chimp... When its not crashing. How dare it do so when I get to tribe stage in less than two hours and didn't save it! ARRRRRGH! My little freaky creature was AWESOME! :(

Oh my God, the neglectful blogger returns!

2009-12-11T11:22:00.006Z

Ok, I have obviously been neglecting my blog again. My apologies, unfortunately the real world took over my life since my last blog so I've been forced to face reality.

Suckage.

Oh, before I forget, thank you to everyone who commented on my last blog, much appreciated :) I read them a few days ago while I was feeling utterly hacked off with a particular essay I had to write and they cheered me up a bit :) Then I realised I really did have to get that essay finished, so I grumpily went back to work and didn't reply. Sorry.

I foolishly thought that if I got my work handed in a little early, mainly so I didn't have to go into uni today JUST to hand in work (thereby negating the approximately 4 hour long round trip just to get back to my house) I would feel on top of the world.

Instead, my neurotic brain decided to give me a nightmare last night where, my lecturers, seeing that it was handed in early, decided to be extra harsh and fail me if there was the slightest typo. Thank you oh so helpful brain. So, just to spite my subconscious I decided to sleep in until 10:30 this morning just because I can. Take that stupid personality flaw.

On a brighter note (and a slightly ironic one) I keep finding things to write about that are really funny. Unfortunately, my humour writing module kinda finished Wednesday when I handed my assignments in, which sucks. Either that, or these experiences get filed into a part of my brain that I can't seem to access ever again and thus are lost forever.

I see a pattern emerging here. I obviously need to upgrade my brain.

Oh well, despite a late shift at work tomorrow, life is, um, average. I was going to say 'good' but that would be pushing it. I have no money to speak of until my wages come in, which means a last minutes dash to buy Chrimbo pressies for the family and friends - a late dash I usually try to avoid. Dad is, yeah, you know that series on TV, 'The grumpy old men'? I swear he taught them everything they know. Not that he can help it, he feels rubbish all the time and was meant to have some sort of scan this week - exactly what I'm not sure - and it's been playing on his mind because he didn't go.

Meh, such trials and tribulations test the mettle of one's soul. Or something like that.

Anyway, dear readers, I am now going to sign off because, despite staying in bed until 10:30, I dearly need a cup of tea or coffee, or some other hot beverage, to wake me up as my head is still foggy. Then I am most likely going to doss on Spore or The Sims 3. I had planned on starting my Shakespeare essay which is due for submission in January, but after this hectic week of handing in five different assignments, my brain is demanding a break.

Galactic domination it is then.

Aloha.

Toffy hasn't posted a blog recently because of three very good reasons...

2009-11-26T18:11:00.006Z

Ok, so I haven't blogged in ages, this is because of the following three (very reasonable, I might add) reasons:

I've been very busy with uni work, namely getting in my 3 middle of the semester assignments, then realising that there's no rest of the wicked as I have another 3 (5 if you can the fact that 2 of them are in 2 parts) to hand in before the end of the semester and the break for Chrimbo - ARGH!
My laptop has been up a certain famous creek without a proverbial paddle - to the extent I did a panicky search online to see how much a replacement was likely to cost. Luckily (there's a great deal of irony piled on top of that word), it's only cost me £170 to get my computer up to form again (or near it) rather than the £500-£600 it was likely to cost. Yay. Still £170 I didn't really have. Thank you 0% interest overdraft, but goodbye to at least one month's wages.
I could hardly turf my sister off her laptop whilst she was doing all her arty college work and Dad's has a flickery screen - think of a hummingbird's wings that's had 15 espressos and has snorted some kali and you're about at the level of annoyance - so I thought I'd rather not use a computer at all than suffer the infuriating condition of said decrepid machine.

So yes, my break from blogging has not been enjoyable, but rather sucky. Oh well. I am now going to get back to my uni work before having dinner and dossing on the Sims 3 - I think I deserve it after the trauma of being computer less and the busy past few days I've had.

Aloha.

P.S. I applied for that teaching/mentoring thing :) Hope to hear from them before Chrimbo, as there's going to be a delay until at least the 1st of December as the person's off somewhere. Oh well.

P.S.S Thank you to anyone who reads this who laughed in Humour Writing at my work yesterday. It really boosted my confidence as I thought my work was pants and I was shaking so much from reading it in class I thought you wouldn't be able to understand what I was saying anyway, so thank you ever so much! :D

My Invictus Soul

2009-11-11T22:30:00.004Z

Earlier on this year, I did a blog about a poem called 'Invictus' by William Earnest Henley. Now, as I said before, this poem really touched my soul and moved me at the time and re-reading the blog from that day (in a moment of sorrow - mainly because I feel wretched, I'm waiting for a lecture I really don't feel well enough for and my computer's fried and a few other things) and it made me think about the many conversations I've had over this year.

You know how, when you meet someone new, they always ask how you are and what you're doing at the moment and how your life's going? I get this all the time at work because I get sent out to branches a lot, so you meet lots of new faces and they're always curious. To be honest, I am too so I don't mind indulging in their questions and ask plenty of my own back. I always get a similar response though because the tale of my year always comes out pretty much the same and the response I get is usually something like this,

"Gosh, you've been through a lot, haven't you?"

Now, just re-reading that blog and poem got me thinking. I guess I kinda have. You don't think about it when you're going through something, you're just so stressed and consumed by it all that you don't really notice. To be honest, if I really think about it, everything has been really tough since 2005.

My A levels suffered because of problems at home. Mom and Dad were always arguing and in the October Mom told Dad she wanted a divorce. It was like living on egg shells or living like a spy for that entire year because I had my Mom speaking in one ear, my Dad speaking in the other and there was me, in the middle, unable to speak to anyone about how I was feeling and with both parents telling me things I didn't really want to know and not to talk to the other about what they'd spoken of. I couldn't talk to anyone because I'd fallen out with my best friend - stupidly, over a boy - and because we were in different classes we didn't sort things out as quickly as we should have done. I was left to suffer in silence, without even my best friend to turn to. She says she felt awful, having to see me suffer from afar and I believe her. We're friends again now and I can't explain how sorry I am that I didn't extend the olive branch a lot sooner back then. It would've made things a lot easier.

It was October the following year on the 6th that I left the home I'd lived in since birth to move out with my Mom and sister. It was the worst time of my life. I got an injury in my hand from excessive typing (how ironic as it was for school work), that meant I was off school for three weeks. I had to stop my driving lessons too because of my medication and the wrist brace wouldn't allow me to grip properly. I was still caught between two parents and what's more, my extended family wanted in on the act too, having a go and generally sniping. Keep in mind, I still wasn't friends with my best mate at this point. To top it all off, I was then introduced to my Dad's new girlfriend.

That was nice. Not. You have to put on a brave face though and pretend it's ok.

But that fell apart for my Dad and somehow, I don't exactly remember how, we ended up spending Christmas together, as a family again that year and it was decided we'd move back. The whole move and trauma seemed an utterly pointless waste of my emotional energy and thus I felt even more exhausted than when I was trying to keep myself together for everyone. I was tired all the time and couldn't get enough sleep, or rather, I was sleeping plenty, just not getting any benefit from it.

Then, that January, my Grandad died. The day before my fourth General Studies exam. I did the exam regardless.

It was also that time of the year I decided to change the course I'd applied for at university to Biology and Biochemistry rather than Biology and Chemistry. It was shades of things to come.

Grandad's funeral was an experience in itself. It was the fourth one I'd been to in my short life at that time - just 17 years old. I've still only been to two weddings.

My A level results came through and although I hadn't quite made the necessary grades, my 1st choice took me anyway. I moved away to uni - re-living the experience of the year before and the heartbreaking feeling - and things were ok. Well, that's a lie. I hated it. The course was ok and I was doing really well, but I felt isolated and alone, despite making new friends. I came home every weekend because I hated it so much. I sat my exams after Christmas and then, one day I decided enough was enough.

I changed university, course, everything - all without realising I'd passed all my previous modules.

I started at my current uni a semester behind my new year group. I was in limbo. Not really one of them, not really anything else. I made two friends, that's it. Again, I felt alone, but I had my friends at home, so I coped.

Then Dad was diagnosed with Thyroid cancer.

That summer, all I'll remember is going to and coming from hospitals and seeing my Dad in the ICU. He's never looked the same since and to be honest, he's changed too. Sometimes I wonder whether the treatment he's had was really a benefit to him at all, considering all the problems it caused.

Then I did the semester I missed and everything changed. I made friends, quite a few friends and I felt like I belonged. I had a place and I was accepted. My grades improved too. I started my diet then, funnily enough. Things seemed like they were improving and I thought, maybe this is it, maybe this is when I get to be happy. I'd made up with my best friend, we'd cleared the air and yeah, I thought things were really looking great.

Then Christmas came and an experience I'd rather not have had, my trust was betrayed and I was deeply hurt. It took me a long while to get over it, but you live and learn and grow from stuff like this, so that's what I've tried to do.

At the time though, it wasn't so easy. I was back in my isolating half of the year, away from all my friends and in 2nd year. Dad was in and out of hospital. I couldn't cope. I fell behind with my uni work and I tried to keep myself together and to struggle on in silence but I simply couldn't. I arranged meetings with a counsellor at uni and for the first time since 2005 I admitted I needed help. I'd never been so terrified. I never ask for help. I've always been 'one of the smart kids', so at school I'd never really needed that much assistance, or it was to clarify things.

This was a genuine cry for help, for once I had no idea what to do and I felt like I was drowning.

The counsellor really helped though. I got my head straight and decided I'd take a leave of absence - I was in no fit state for uni anyway and I didn't want my overall degree suffering from a dodgey six months work.

The first week of that break was an intense relief mixed with a massive load of trouble and paperwork, but I got it sorted, or so I thought.

I got a letter from the LEA saying they wanted maintenance money back for parts of the semester I hadn't completed. Well that was a kick to the stomach to say the least.

I signed on at the job centre and continued to work my Saturday job. I went every fortnight like I was supposed to - all for nothing. No money from the JSA, I'd spent money on bus fare, in all I was out of pocket and since that March until I returned to uni I was living in my overdraft as the only means of getting by. For months, because Dad can't work I had been (and still am) helping out Mom as best I can. I was financially screwed over. I tried working in a factory to boost my income.

That was so soul destroying I had to jack it in after two days. Some people are meant to do that kind of work, I'm too much of a pansy really. It gave me a whole new respect for people who do manufacturing work as their life, not just a stop gap measure.

And a thirst not to return there and to return to my books.

So with no JSA and only work on a Saturday, I had free time and managed to organise working at a local school to get some experience. I've never felt so alive as in that classroom, telling the kids a story I'd written just for them, well because of them really. It was such a buzz to go in everyday and to see their little faces light up when they got something. I'd help them to get there. It was an emotional thing, I can tell you and confirmed that I want to be a teacher. There's nothing else I'm good at and my heart is pretty set on it.

Then I returned to uni and I was no longer the limbo girl. Now I'm in the year group for the full year and I'm more comfortable now. I've got opportunities on the go and, yeah, things at home could be better, but you can't have everything.

The thing that really matters is that, I've been strong enough to get through these past few years without even realizing it. I said back in that previous blog that I hoped my soul could be unconquerable like Henley described and, like I said then, I still hope his was unconquerable like he claimed.

At least I can sit here at a desk (not my own unfortunately), still feeling sorry for myself, but knowing that, I'm a lot stronger than I think, I just need to start believing in myself more.

Hmm deep blog. Sorry for depressing you all.

Aloha.

Under the weather

2009-11-11T09:44:00.008Z

Ok, so I feel like complete and total crap this morning. Yay. Have slept for... um... about 7 1/2 hours, so not far off my usual sleep pattern, and feel like I've done three rounds with a hungry polar bear followed by playing Twister with a snake... Can they even do that, what with having no arms and legs and all?

+= Possible?

Oh well. Cup of tea is meant to heal anything apparently. I'll give it a go. Then I'll have another look at my Shakespeare work and write some fanfiction or watch BBC iPlayer in my breaks, whilst wondering whether I'll be fit enough to make Humour Writing tonight. Meh.

Ooooh James May's Toy Stories and he's doing... Meccano. Always wanted Meccano when I was little. Mom and Dad got me Lego but wouldn't get me Meccano. Apparently it was too expensive.

My backside. I bet Mom was just worried Dad would be playing with it forever and she'd never get him to do anything around the house.

Until a bit later people ;)

Aloha.

P.S. Hello again to my repeat reader in Manchester, my reader in Stoke (although I think I know who you are :P ) and welcome back to my reader in California, you're all very welcome :)

Almost speechless... almost

2009-11-10T22:26:00.005Z

Aloha dear readers. I bet you thought after such a frenzy of blogs over the past week I'd run out of things to say. Well you're right, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to have a go anyway :P

So yes, I got rid of my Myth in Lit essay... er, I mean, I handed it in. It's all gone *does a victory dance* now I just have to finish my Shakespeare assignment - got cracking on it today, three hours I spent in Costa staring at my screen and searching the ebrary as I pieced my plan together, only for my friend to say we only have to write the introduction. Blast it. Oh well, at least the plan's done for later anyway. I also raided the library of four useful looking books, so if you needed them... um, er... tough. :P

Popular Texts was also interesting tonight. Get to relive my adolescence through the literature I read. Oh joy. There's a reason you rush through that time in your life, dear, dear readers.

Because it's hell on Earth. As my lecturer said tonight;

"The only thing worse than knowing a teenager is being a teenager."

I know exactly what she means. My teen years were hardly pleasant, but they were necessary and not wholly bad, so yeah. I'm just going to leave this section with a mildly (Ha) sarcastic - Oh joy.

I flag up the sarcasm once again, as I know how rubbish I am at writing humour.

Anyway, I'm tired and grouchy after a full day at uni (that being 12 hours+ usually, but was actually only about 11 today) and so am going to watch BBC iPlayer and comedy videos on YouTube to relax before bed.

Oh and I leave you with my favourite Victoria Wood clips which can be viewed here and here. Watch them and turn the volume up, they're hilarious and will cheer you up no matter what. Love you Victoria!

Aloha.

A new challenge on the horizon

2009-11-09T18:37:00.004Z

Ok, so my Myth in Lit essay is finally done, good job as it has to be in tomorrow. Having said that, I'm not as happy with this one as the other one, so I've saved a copy to my memory stick in case I want to do any final edits and re-print a copy tomorrow at uni. Oh well, it's nearly gone. One less piece of work to worry about, right?

So, with the farewell of this piece of work and the focus soon to be shifting to putting together my ideas for my Shakespeare's Culture essay plan, I decided to check the uni website, my email things like that and found a rather interesting email. So interesting, in fact, that three different modules sent me the same letter as an attachment. That, in itself, suggested I should read it and I'm muchos glad that I did.

There is a meeting concerning English and Maths students at my uni getting placements to work with kids in schools to get paid experience if they want to continue to progress onto a PGCE after graduation. Well this is exactly what I want to do, so I'm thinking, why the hell not? I've already done some work in a school over the summer holiday and that was for nothing. This could be an awesome opportunity and I want to grab it with both my sticky little mitts, so I shall go along to said meeting to get more info me thinks.

Ah well, onwards and upwards as they say. Got the rabbit's cage cleaned, my essay finished, read The Flies (which was... an experience) and thought some more for my Shakespeare essay. I haven't had a chance to properly start it yet, but I've got my main ideas for themes, its picking the texts that best fit them because all three kinda do, then getting some fierce working done.

Well that's my 5 hour gap between lectures tomorrow sorted then.

Aloha.

A long nurtured wish comes true... Well came true back in February.

2009-11-09T13:52:00.008Z

Ok, I've mentioned ice skating here and there and I don't think I've ever done it justice, so here it is, a dedicated blog to the wonderful art of movement on frozen H2O.

The modern form of ice skating (with edged blades) was invented in the Netherlands in the 13th or 14th century and is, quite frankly, awesome. There's just something about the freedom and blank nature of an ice rink laid out before you, all pristine and white and smooth that makes my heart rise up just a little bit and a grin spread out on my face... Then I get the urge to go and destroy that perfection with my amateur skating, but that love is still there.

Of course, people always ask "Doesn't it hurt when you fall?" the simple answer is, of course it does. Duh, but didn't it always hurt when you fell off your bike or in the playground when you were little? It didn't stop you though did it, so why should it stop you from ice skating?

The truth is, until you fall, you don't truly begin to appreciate the ice. Once you've fallen, you're like "Is that all I was worried about?" and you get back up (with slightly wounded pride, I'll admit) and get back to skating. Your confidence gains because of it and there's just nothing like it, to me anyway. There's a poetry about the way you can move on the ice and a beauty that's graceful and savage at the same time. Then again, I'm biased because I love it.

Now, I'm no Jane Torvil, but I can skate reasonably well and I try to learn or perfect a new technique each time I visit the rink - which is not as often as I'd like. I also try to see if I can make the full three and a half hour skating session without falling over once - a feat I've managed to achieve just three times, but I'm getting better.

I just don't know what it is about it. When I was little, I always wanted to go, ever since my Aunty gave me an 'Ice Skating Barbie' for Chrimbo. I loved that doll and I wasn't a fan of Barbies. I was more the kind of girl who was into teddies, and fact books... And colourful spandex-clad, martial arts utilising superheroes. When I managed to in y6 with the summer holiday activities programme, it was fantastic. I went into the skate shop there and marvelled at the skates. I wanted my own. Since then, in a little part of my heart was inscribed the wish; 'I still wish I had my own pair of skates'.

Later, when I went with my family a few times, it just wasn't the same. The ice rink we visited was packed and you always get some idiotic show offs that race around and knock the confidence of everyone else.

Then, a few years ago now I think it was, a new rink opened up near where I live. A year or so ago, perhaps two now maybe, my good friend (my usual skating buddy) took me skating there and it was bliss. It's a smaller rink, but because we went in the daytime when all the kids were at school (and we didn't have uni because it was the beginning of our summer hols, so the kids wouldn't be breaking up for another month or so) there was barely anybody there. I loved it so much, I wanted to go again. I was bitten by the bug. I went a few more times with my friends, by Chrimbo I'd been more times than I'd been in my entire life. That's when I decided. I'm going to buy my own skates. So after some research and a lot of advice from my skating buddy, I bought my oh so wonderful and adorable and cherished skates...The Risport RF4. Perfect for beginners, to intermediate skaters and the same make the celebrities on Dancing on Ice are given, so I'm told. Admittedly they were delivered without laces, so were absolutely useless until I got them to the rink. Then I had to buy ice hockey skate laces that we were worried may be too thick for the smaller figure skate holes. They're black and have white skull and cross bones on them. They make my skates look like those of a pirate -.- This I've been fine with until now, but, thankfully, my skating buddy has bought me some proper figure skating ones so I can now have the proper look and correct safety level ones. Yay.

Back in September, I went skating again after having a rather long absence from it (it actually hurt not to go for so long). I went on an afternoon when me and my friend had the entire rink to ourselves for the whole three and a half hour session.

That was brain overload for me. Was also the time I got my stupidly painful blister from the stupid boots I walked home in too.

I don't think there's much more I can say really to promote this wonderful sport. All I know is that, when I take to the ice, it's cold and new, but warm and familiar at the same time and you can glide so fast that its terrifying and wondrous at the same time. It's a beautiful symphony of savage beauty and opposites all clinging together for dear life in a whirlwind of frost and potential colour.

I'll never reach the Olympics, but you've got to aim for something, right? Ok, fine. I want to be able to do forward crossovers to the right as well as the left by next February. Plenty of time.

Aloha.

Blogger-itus

2009-11-08T14:23:00.006Z

I've been told I'm addicted to blogging. This conclusion I have also come to myself.

There is a certain, um, power trip, I suppose that comes from filling the Internet with worthless prattle - MY worthless prattle.

Muhahaha.

The fact that people actual read this drivel? That's just a bonus really.

Unfortunately, blogger-itus as I have named this phenomena, tends to turn mildly insane, chatty and random post-teen girls (like myself) into certain big pants wearing, ice cream worshipping, badly parked Volkswagen sized backside sporting 30 somethings. Not mentioning any names...

Oh well, there's worse fates I suppose.

The tally of blogs is standing at 7 in 6 days, 8 counting this one. I'm going to have to be surgically removed from my laptop me thinks.

I so want to go ice skating too. My skates keep looking at me forlornly and I keep hearing the say; "When are we going to grace the frozen lake again, Miss?". Good question. Unfortunately, due to bad timetabling my good friend (who's profoundly better at skating than me) and my only partner in crime when it comes to the icey-freedom of our local rink can't actually make it to the same skating session. NUTS. Something has to be done about this. I know I could well go on my own, but it gets lonely after about half an hour and the session I like best is three and a half hours long. Plus to travel there by bus takes nearly an hour. Damn the public transport system.

Meh. I guess my only way to spend time this weekend is to (finally) finished reading The Flies by Jean-Paul Sartre for Myth in Lit, finalise my edits for the essay for said module, pick some books out for the Popular Texts seminar and watch The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, just because I can... Oh and clean out the rabbit's cage. Oh joy.

Aloha... until I bore you all later with another blog post most likely and continue to spam your follower feeds (yeah, sorry about that)

Ok, maybe I'm thick, behind the times, whatever, but...

2009-11-08T12:00:00.003Z

What is the massive fascination with Twitter? A lot of the people I like on TV (Stephen Fry, Alan Davies, etc, etc) have Twitter, but to be honest, I don't have a clue what the munchies it is.

(It's for times like these that I resort to the spawn of intellectual Satan and turn to wikipedia)

I mean, I blog. Yes, I blog pointless, random stuff that I think of and about and some people read it. Yay for me. What the hell is Twitter though? According to said love-child of the Internet and the patron saint of unreliability, Twitter is a 'micro-blogging site' where people can communicate using 140 character long messages. 140 characters? Do you know how long 140 characters is? It's exactly this long:

My hamster ate a goldfish last night and he said it was rather tasty. Then he put on his blue waistcoat and went to the shops with Superman.

This message may actually be a worthwhile addition to said website as apparently (again according to *chokes on own words* wikipedia) 'pointless babble' is the largest category of twitter content.

I just don't understand, if it has some mega realm of importance or has impressive benefits to one's life, then, please, someone point them out to me, otherwise, it seems as pointless as... well my blog actually.

Aloha.

P.S. I would like to point out that I in no way own a goldfish eating hamster that either a) has a blue waistcoat or b) is friends with Superman.

10 things to do when you're bored... Well if you're me anyway

2009-11-07T16:25:00.020Z

After the day I've had, I was very tempted to pretend to hit my head on the keyboard repeatedly to produce this blog, so all you would've ended up with was this:

dsfhufdffhflqu52479-35-7951-y79v vc nfafrguihraqhufgrrhu[v
irwe4uptquiire8-53y9argbvzdf ndEOBwbifebuiFARBHIVFSBNJVDFuhfwruiraghupqt5y8gadf n v111111fhuosdghugthut5q38u5q368qt38u=agrhuiovzf n pgar-=-==-=tin4tjovsdfbjor3jk; v zlkdskofgwrgj4tj9arg

Which, I know would've been really entertaining, but I thought you readers deserved something a little more, um, readable, than the world's hardest and most pointless Countdown Conundrum.

So yeah. I'm Bored. My head hurts. My back hurts. I think I've caught a cold (not with a trap or anything, that would be random) and I'm starving. Must decide what to have from the chippie actually - good ol' fish and chips or delicious chicken meat and chips that comes with salad so I don't feel so guilty (in a stupid way I know) when I eat it. Decisions, decisions.

While I try to decide, I've come up with my list of top things to do when I'm bored:

1) Make cuddly toys eat cake... Well, Bakewell Tart...

2) Write fanfiction

3) Pull random faces at my sister every time she comes up the stairs

4) Teach my bunny how to forage... She can already beg, so I thought it was time she learnt a new skill. She hunts Shreddies.

5) Edit essays that need to be in - not really enjoyable at all really, but if one is bored enough one will resort to ANYTHING

6) Watch comedy clips on YouTube, mainly stuff like this or this

7) Watch my beautiful DVD box set of One Tree Hill that I got for my birthday this year

8) Listen to guilty pleasure songs on iTunes

9) Make my 'quivering bloke' (an artist's posing mannequin, 'quivering bloke' is what they used to be called on the Generation Game) do disco poses...

The Travolta

Y...

M...

C...

10) Worship the big red book...

(That is the complete, illustrated works of Jane Austen, as the gold detailing on the front kinda burnt out my camera)

So yeah, plenty to do really XD

Aloha.

P.S. Strictly and Merlin were awesome! I was feeling so down and now I've cheered right back up again. Just to finish it off with some Armstrong and Miller on iPlayer me thinks ;) Oh and it took me that long to write this naffing blog, for those of you who were interested I chose chicken meat and chips from the chippie XD

P.S.S. Hello to another new repeat reader, yes you, the one from London, Hello :) Although, why you keep reading 'Monkies, Stories, Birthdays and Thanks' is beyond me, there's plenty more interesting stuff to choose from, and I don't mean on my blog either. Go get your own quivering man or something! Oh and Hello to the person from Texas too, whoever you maybe and the person in California. People really like to search google for ways to confuse people o.0

It's nights like these when I wish I'd had the £25 to renew my TKD license 10 years ago

2009-11-06T22:23:00.006Z

Is it so dreadful of me to really, really, really want to kick the crap out of something? Preferably a 6 foot tall guy built like a brick out house with a punch bag? Would it be so heinous of me to return to the days when I was a 10 year old girl with a massive desire to become one of the next Power Rangers (a desire I'd harboured since I was 5 - yeah, I'm of that generation), when I could kick a girl into a wall and the teacher would PRAISE me for doing so? To wistfully go back to the days when I could disable said bloke from before with just a twist of the wrist and be awarded a trophy for being the 'student of the year' because of it?

Yes, dear readers, I attribute most of my over-exaggeration and... um, barely containable anger? to the fact that I was forced (due to monetary issues) to give up a hobby I so dearly loved.

When I was eight years old me and my Dad started Tae Kwon Do. For those of you who don't know (or can't be bothered to guess) that's a martial art, in my opinion better than Karate (which I've tried) and easier than Kung Fu (by the looks of it anyway). I got to my blue tag (which again, for those of you who don't know, is the 5th belt of 10 before you get to the various levels of black belt - those are the ones where you're pretty much just showing off). This is why I used to know bits of Korean and can still count to 10 in said language. For those of you who don't believe me:

1 = Hanna
2 = Dool
3 = Seth
4 = Neth
5 = Dasual
6 = Yasual
7 = Ilgop
8 = Yadoll
9 = Ahop
10 = Yoll

So :P

Unfortunately, the only surviving things I can remember from those days are a) how to break someone's spine, b) how to break someone's nose and (possibly) give them brain damage in the process, c) how to do a kidney strike, d) how to punch someone properly without breaking your hand, particularly the thumb (which is prone to breakage if you don't do it properly, I'll have you know) and e) not to kick like they do in the early episodes of Power Rangers - that will break your leg with the force of the recoil.

What's sparked all this off? Nothing in particular really, just a rubbish afternoon and evening really and certain people taking the Michael. Meh. Used to it now anyway, or should be really. Just makes me want to dig my inflatable pink punchbag out from under my bed; even that has it's flaws though - punching the crap out of something alone is rather anti-social, unlike TKD, but on the plus side, my punchbag has a photo slot so you can imagine the punchbag is actually someone you know. Hehehe. Had some fun with that... Not in a sadistic way mind you.

Hmmm perhaps I should stop now before the people who know who I am start to look at me like some freaky de-masked ninja (I know they are real people underneath the masks, obviously, you just don't tend to see ninjas without them).

That's the thing you see. I never mention my name or the names of my friends in blogs. That way I'm anonymous and can write whatever I like really. Hmmm, guess I am kinda like a writing ninja... Weird.

And I don't have anger management issues. Honest. I just like to rant... A lot.

Aloha.

Do the nearly completed essay dance!

2009-11-06T13:35:00.004Z

Yes, I have finally got my procrastinating backside into gear and finished the last 300-400 words for my Myth in Lit essay -HOORAY! The referencing and bibliography are complete (though I am going to once again check the style handbook - I do this for every essay and I reckon I still manage to get it wrong), the essay is within the 10% waver of the word count (though I'm going to cut at it anyway) so all in all, there's only the cutting and final edits to do this afty and check obsessively over the weekend before the deadline on Tuesday. Yippee :D

Following on from the racial debate of the Othello DVD shown in my Shakespeare's Culture class on Thursday (which was brought up by Plashing Vole in his blog and I don't want to draw it out any further, I just wanted to comment here rather than having to scroll down all the comments to reply because, well, I'm blatantly lazy) I didn't mean that the acting was any good really, I just thought it was hilarious because, well I don't know really, I just laughed with the rest of the people on my row. I guess that's what you get for turning up to a lecture an hour early and numbing your backside on the cold floor outside the lecture room waiting for everyone to turn up... Not that I'm that sad really... Besides, it wasn't my fault there were no working computers left in Costa.

Anyway, moving on quickly, I have never really noticed how filling Hula Hoops are. Random statement I know, but I've only eaten half a packet of Hula Hoops for my lunch (12.5g if the packet weight is anything to go by) as well as a piece of toast and I'm stuffed. Either I'm ill (which is quite likely as I work in the library service where people cough, sneeze and whatever else I don't want to think about over the books they borrow - that I have to touch. I found a squished spider in the one the other day when I went to replace the date label in it - I dropped the naffing thing in pure terror... Then couldn't help myself from going back to look at the stupid thing and made myself quite sick. What is it with the temptation to look at gross things anyway?), or I'm just weird... Which again, is also quite possible.

I do wonder really, exactly how I ate so much before dieting. Over the past year or so, I have been watching what I eat (which sounds silly because just watching it isn't going to make it any healthier), and doing more exercise, simply walking more and using workout software for my Wii, rather than working out at gyms (for a smile inducing rant on gyms and exercise equipment, check out my friend's blog here) and have noticed that I don't need to eat half as much as I used to, the Hula Hoops, for example, are now sitting in a re-sealed packet on my desk for when I get the munchies later. Now, a year ago I would've simply eaten the one packet and then polished another one off later if necessary. When I think back, I see myself as gluttony personified. I probably wasn't that bad, but I have a habit of exaggeration when it comes to, well everything really, but especially my body. Meh, I've lost nearly 3 stone now. Some may say that's an achievement, but I simply see the fact that I have about another 3 stone to lose and it kinda puts it into perspective.

Oh well. At least I have another essay almost done :D *dances*

Aloha.

And the crazy optimistic girl's blog goes global

2009-11-05T00:08:00.004Z

Yes dear readers, for those of you who are unobservant (bless your cotton socks), or those of you who simply don't give a monkey's anyway, I have been spying on you. Not in a James Bond way or a stalker-ish way, more like a bargain basement web cam set into a biscuit tin in a school staffroom to see who really is eating that last, most prized and elusive chocolate biscuit kind of a way.

Anyway, I have been introduced to the wonderful invention of site meter. So now I can have a wild stab of a guess at the kinds of people who read my blog. Hello to my newest readers in Sweden, Hungary, the US, Canada, Buckinghamshire, Luton, Manchester, St. Helens, Cheshire and Lancashire. You're all very welcome to this mad house of a blog.

Also, I know why some of you were admitted in the first place and for this I profoundly apologise. You see, dear readers, a few unfortunate people have been referred to my blog via google - namely because I like to use random keywords as titles or cover random topics of interest. So the people who searched google for information on 'what we smell at bonfires', 'Halloween' and 'the things that confuse people', I'm really sorry you got lumbered with my blog, but I hope it entertained you anyway.

And to those school kids who wanted to know what Bonfire Night is, yeah, really sorry about not going into the whole Political and Religious situation of Britain in the 1600s.

But yeah, this random, drivelly blog has gone global. Who'd have thought it? Next up, I'm hoping to get readers on Mars, but I'm not sure broadband reaches that far just yet... Hmmm, perhaps I'll just have to settle with some mere global domination.

Aloha.

P.S. I actually just typed in 'what do we smell on bonfire night' into google and my blog is the first hit there. I hope some little kid hasn't stolen my ranty paragraph for their homework or something - their teacher will think they're a complete nutter o.0!

Monkeys, birthdays, stories and thanks

2009-11-04T13:39:00.005Z

One essay down, two to go, well one and a half really because my Myth in Lit essay is 600+ words at the mo' out of 1000 so it's not all bad. Although, having said that I haven't read 'The Flies' for Myth in Lit on Tuesday, so yeah.

That doesn't matter though, what matters is, despite dropping a whopping great TV on my fingers (they're pretty much back to normal now, only my right index finger is still very tender and stiff), I am stupidly cheerful and have things to look forward to. Tiny little things, but, as I've told you dear readers before, our fave (or it would seem like it) family saying is:

'"Every little helps!" Said the monkey as he peed in the sea.'

So, what exactly has got my random and oh so rose-tinted view of optimism? Well, firstly, conquering essays (though I'm prolonging this by writing this blog, eating lunch and wondering whether we were meant to do some reading for tonight's Humour Writing lecture as it says 'reading' in the module guide for this week, but we weren't told to do any) is the first major happiness booster.

Secondly, it's a good friend's twenty first birthday on Sunday and, though I've been invited to his birthday meal, I'm not sure I can attend yet, so I'm mentioning it in this blog a) to hack him off because he doesn't want to be 21, b) I wanted to hack him off because he FORGOT my birthday. Shame on you! c) I just wanted to say Happy Birthday really and d) I have a blog to abuse for this purpose, so why the hell not?

Oh and, by the way, Mr. Friendy, the link I sent you to this blog? Yeah, that was your birthday present :P Well, we are in a recession and I am skint. Plus it's the thought that counts... no matter how evil that thought may have been.

Anyway, enough tormenting of friends. Another thing I have to look forward to (and I'm going to display my nerdy-ness now) is that a game I ordered about three weeks ago is released a week on Friday. Only problem is that I'm going to have to get my Mom to hide it so that I can't be distracted by it while I try and get my Shakespeare work done. Suckage.

Also, it is another good friend's birthday two weeks tomorrow. She will be 20 and I shan't torment her because she's cool and DIDN'T forget my birthday... Mainly because I forgot to tell her when it was and she didn't check Facebook.

That was just silly, but I can forgive that.

The other thing I'm going to mention that's giving me joy (I can't remember anymore off the top of my head, but no doubt will think of some more as soon as I post this), is that I have a beta reader.

What the hell is a Beta reader?, I hear you cry. Well, for years and years and years I have been writing fanfiction - waits for many readers to leave at this point or start crying with humiliating laughter - anyway, I've been relatively successful, more so than with my own fiction, which can be a bit of a problem when one wants to be a writer, but there you go. Anyway, for the past year or so I've been faithfully following this one fic writer's story and we got chatting via site messaging as to stories and ideas that we both have. Suffice to say, she has become my beta reader and I have for her, setting up a nice exchange or forum of ideas. The reason I mention this is because it has got me back into writing again. I'd dropped out of it for a while and I had an immense case of writer's block, now I can write, just only for the one story and not the ones I had originally set out to unblock myself for in the first place.

That, my dear readers is a fine example of Sod's law in action.

Anyway, I shan't bore you anymore, I have pins and needles in my leg from sitting on my spinny chair for too long - much love to the spinny chair though - and will be going to help Mom unplug, move and re-plug the NAD box for the TV (another thing only my Dad likes) in a mo' - watch out for another blog featuring me complaining about crushed fingers -.-

Aloha.

P.S. Thank you to Ewarwoowar for plugging my blog in his latest blog entry. I'm not sure whether that's a favour or a curse to his readers, but yeah, thank you :)

Essays grind to a hault as a tv crushes fingers

2009-11-02T21:00:00.004Z

Get me being all news headline-y... ish. So yeah, I worked through my popular texts essay like a demon, whether I actually answered the question is another matter and I was working well, albeit slowly, on my myth in lit essay today when BAM.

Basically, my Dad likes to make puzzles. Or at least, the wires behind our TV would give that impression. Mom wanted to change the TV table, so I'm enlisted to unravel the puzzle. So I begin to do so, unplug the TV completely and we're shifting the monstrous TV (which only my Dad naffing likes) and oops, we're those your fingers underneath? I do apologise.

So yeah, I have two very swollen fingers which are already a faint shade of puce and the bruise hasn't fully surfaced yet. Oh joy. That's with keeping my hand in naffing cold water for about ten minutes... It felt like an eternity.

I'm typing this stupid blog one handed, all so I can have a rant. Such is my personality I suppose. I still managed to re-situate the TV though and I cooked dinner (with some help from Mom because I didn't feel safe holding the knife), so it's not all bad... I just have swollen sausage fingers -.-

Damn you TV. Damn you.

Aloha.

Out of sorts

2009-10-28T20:01:00.005Z

For no reason in particular this morning, I woke up feeling out of sorts and generally hacked off. Now, I say for no reason in particular, but I can list a few, and so I shall:

I have three essays due in the next three weeks and whenever I get a spark of inspiration, it dies faster than a mayfly with sudden death syndrome
I'm broke. Terminally so.
I have a headache - and not just the usual one, called "my sister"
I weighed myself this morning and I've put a pound back on. I blame Doritos and boredom.
I'm craving fish and chips and can not have them, because of the evidence above
For some strange and bizarre reason my father decided to greet me in the following manner when I returned from shopping today;

"You've gotta watch this, you'll find it interesting; it's about farts."

What exactly about my personality, my appearance, my general aura would suggest the fact that I would find a programme about farts interesting?!

Perhaps it would be better if you didn't answer that, not that you were going to anyway.

All griping and moaning aside, I have been feeling terribly low today and I don't know why. I fell asleep on the bus (not an unusual happening for me) on the way into uni and when I woke up a good ten minutes from my destination, I felt like I could cry. We're not talking a little sniffle here, I'm talking proper gut wrenching, heart crushing, mascara ruining sobs. I managed to repress the feeling, but throughout my entire lecture I was fighting back that strong burning kind of stinging sensation in my eyes.

If humour writing can't save my spirits, what exactly can?

So yes, humour writing today was enjoyable as always. I managed to contribute something - shock horror - and I felt, at least, a little productive. Yay. Turning point perhaps in my humourless writing endeavours? Only time will tell. I shall wait and see.

Oh and on another sour note, basically because I can't seem to avoid them today, there's some naffing stupid roadworks going on concerning an island by the uni. Now normally, I'd think this is a marvelous idea as it will disrupt less traffic as they're only working at night. Well I don't when it affects my stupid bus. Said stupid bus had a stupid bus driver earlier, who stupidly couldn't tell me how the roadworks would affect said stupid bus later on this evening when I'm trying to make my way home. Needless to say I was not best impressed.

Oh and, for the superstitious of you out there, like myself, I thought it was ironic, that on a day where I can't seem to stop feeling naffing awful, I keep seeing sets, or rather couples of magpies. Now, for those of you who aren't superstitious, you're meant to salute, or say hello to magpies to ward off bad luck (I got funny looks for doing this at school, but strangely enough no one thought I was weird when I avoided walking under ladders and thus didn't get splattered with paint) there is also a rhyme that corresponds to magpies which goes like this;

One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.

So yeah, basically, if you see eight magpies, you're screwed. As for my observation - joy? Give me a break. Unless it suddenly starts raining five pound notes and chocolate is revealed to be a super-food, it's going to take something awesome to cheer me up.

Looks like I'm resorting to youtube and Iplayer again.

Aloha.

Halloween, Bonfire night and Chrimbo

2009-10-22T19:50:00.004+01:00

Yes, we're getting to that time of year again where Sales reps and supermarkets rub their gold encrusted hands with glee and try to sell the unsuspecting (and obviously really, really stupid) consumer three tons of tat in order to "celebrate" these holidays.

Now, I have no problem with these holidays, in fact I love them all. Halloween, in my house however, wasn't celebrated, no matter how much me and my sister craved it. The closest we got was dressing up as witches and giving our dinner "scary" or "creepy" names so we felt part of the spirit. Oh, and my sister's mates birthday party which was close to said holiday, where we made chocolate cornflake cakes all afternoon before dressing up as pirates.

But yeah, I have no problem with the dressing up and having a laugh, though I don't like Trick or Treating. Let's be honest, it's barely acceptable begging. You spend your entire lives telling kids NOT to accept sweets off strangers, then you go and give them license to do so. That's a bit hypocritical if you ask me.

Bonfire night is another holiday I adore. Not for the whole, Yay we stopped a dude from blowing up the House of Parliament saga (I know there's a lot more to it than that, but Masterchef starts in five minutes and I'm trying to be brief), but for the magic of that night. As a kid I loved that atmosphere of standing out in the freezing cold, wrapped up to the nines and sweating profusely by the bonfire, the cold of the night air and the warm smell of burning wood, which I still love to this day I might add, as well as the smell of burning gun powder. The awe as the sky is lit up with thousands of sparkles, the smell of jacket potatoes and chili con carne wafting through the crowd and the joyous "oooh"s and "ahhhh"s. Not that we always go to fireworks displays. There've been many years where me and my sister would run up the stairs as soon as the first bang was heard, dash to open my mom and dad's bedroom window and sit on their bed eating ice cream as we watch the fireworks display taking place at the local raceway. I'll probably do that this year as well if I'm honest, and you still get that evocative smell of gunpowder and warm, burning wood.

Chrimbo is Chrimbo, enough said really. I'm actually looking forward to a year this year where my family hasn't got as much money to spend, I've been told I won't be getting loads, just things I really want. Fine by me, it's all I've ever wanted, truly wanted gifts, my family around me, something good on the TV - Doctor Who, you can't go wrong in my opinion, only I'm heart broken a certain Doctor is leaving - and plenty of good food, which there always is in my house as me and my dad both love to cook.

Speaking of which, Masterchef has now officially started, so I shall depart dear readers, and hopefully I won't fall down the stairs in my haste.

Aloha.

Arachnophobia, Misogynisitc idiots and Goldfish

2009-10-15T17:53:00.005+01:00

Ok, up for the usual heart warming montage or general rant about the absurdities that exist within our world?

You should probably check out another blog then :P

All joking aside - and that was a joke, all be it a disguised one, that is disguised as superbly rubbish jokey statement sort of thing - I have very little to say again. I know, shock horror. It's so annoying, I can talk for hours and hours about nothing with my friends, I sit down to write a simple, short blog, any old ramble would do, and Nada. Zilch. Finito. Nada. Wait, I've said that already. Basically, NOTHING.

So what have a talked about today? The main things were:

1) I'm insanely arachnophobic - followed by some rather funny anecdotes about the arachnophobia suffered by me and my friends - not all just from me, I'm not psychic, no matter how much I'd like to be.

2) How Claudio and Leonato are right - I was going to say something rude here, but I won't - in Shakespeare's Much Ado about Nothing. Misogynistic idiots if ever I've read about them. Annoying thing is, I'd liked them up until that point. Swines. Just goes to show that there's one rule for men and another for women. Which blatantly sucks. All I can say is that karma will get them... Even if they are fictional characters and comedic stereotypes. So HA!

Yeah, I think I made my point.

Anyway, the main reason for this blog, if I'm honest, is I'm bored and wanted something to do while I wait for a really close friend of mine (I call her one of my un-biological sisters. I don't care that that is heinous grammar and I'm a student studying English, it's my blog, my rules and they're my friends, so I'll call them what I like :P ), is coming over for a chill out session. I've not seen her for ages and it will be awesome to have a catch up and talk about something that isn't books or plays for uni, when work deadlines are and people who are like goldfish... Yeah, that last one might just be specific to me and not English students in general.

Notice the operative word being; might.

I've also been filling my time (whilst not reading stuff for uni and watching stuff on YouTube and BBC iplayer) with moronic applications on Facebook. I am addicted, there's no other way of looking at it. Anything remotely entertaining and BAM. I'm hooked and several, otherwise useful minutes each day are sucked up by digital games and the like. Am I the only one? I can't be as loads of people on Facebook send me the invites for these things, but really, is there any point to them, apart from entertainment, or is that the point of them? The fact that they merely are entertaining?

I think I've lost my point in there somewhere, but that might be because my head feels foggy and I need some sort of headache remedy - and I don't mean being knocked unconscious with a mallet as my Dad always suggests for comic effect - it never works by the way.

Thinking about it though, it was Dad logic that influenced my five year old kid-self to knock a wobbly tooth out (one of my own, I'm not a monster) with a pair of pliers.

But that's another story.

Aloha.

Trials, Tribulations and T-mobile

2009-10-09T16:30:00.007+01:00

I have a weird form of vertigo. I can go on roller coasters until I'm too dizzy to stand, but ask me to climb a ladder and I freak out. I couldn't climb trees when I was little too, but that might just be because I was crap at climbing.

Anyway, Mom asked me to go into the loft today, looking for the paint pod so my sister can decorate her room. I gulped (as well as wincing rather visibly) and replied that I would.

It's not the going up the ladder that gets me anymore - though if you do look down, it's pretty intimidating as the loft is directly over the stairs and it's a pretty big fall - or the fact that the loft is dark and cold - well there's no heating up there, so I wasn't exactly expecting it to be like going to the south of Devon in the summer or anything - it's actually, stepping away from the ladder itself.

I know I probably sound like a massive wet lettuce, but I started to panic when I stepped away from the ladder and my Mom was saying;

"Come down, I'd rather not find it, than have you falling through the ceiling."

Cheers Mom, that really helps. Oh and I'll tell you what also really helps, sending your arachnophobic eldest up into the loft where a massive, I repeat - MASSIVE - spider is sitting in wait in an old wine aging jar to stare at her with it's eight dead eyes.

I began to feel light headed and faint and I couldn't for the life of me remember how I got there in the first place, as in, how exactly my careful and tentative steps had gotten me on to the ceiling beams and away from the ladder. I stood there, well rather I crouched under the slope of the roof really, clutching to the overhead beams for dear life thinking; "Oh my God, how embarrassing is it going to be when Mom has to call the fire brigade to get me out of here?" - although how exactly they would have accomplished that is beyond me.

It was probably this fear of embarrassment in front of fire fighters that managed to get my brain to think coherently, or rather just enough for me to get back to the ladder and shakily climb back down. I've been feeling sick ever since.

So yes, to say I was slightly distressed would be accurate, if not a little bit of an understatement.

As for T-mobile, they, in their infinite wisdom, sent me a faulty sim card. I didn't know this when I spent the entirety of my day before my humour writing lecture on Wednesday trying to get the damned thing to work in my new phone. I felt like a right idiot when I rang up yesterday to explain that my new sim card wasn't working and if they could possibly tell me why.

"Can you repeat that number for me again Miss?"... "Hm, it looks like it's a faulty sim card, Miss, I can't get it to register on the system."

Well isn't that just fine and dandy? So she got them to send me a replacement, which, thankfully, arrived this morning. Yay. Still doesn't make up for my loft-induced panic/heart attack this morning though.

Most galling part of it all?

I didn't even find the naffing paint pod.

Aloha.

Buslight - the time between the departure of one bus and the arrival of another

2009-10-07T20:05:00.008+01:00

So I've had a few days away from blogger and what do I come back to? A massive list of blogs to read. Fun - not sure if that was sarcasm myself at this juncture, so if this causes offence, I apologise. Boredom always makes me a bit testy.

Yes, I'm bored, cold, hungry and waiting, what a marvellous combo. I'm bored because I've nothing to do, really anyway, I'm cold because it's freezing (no poo Poirot), I'm hungry because I haven't had anything to eat since my sarnie and salad at 12:00 (it's now 20:09 and I won't be eating until 21:30 most likely) and I'm waiting because my stupid bus home from uni comes every hour at this time of night and so I'm having to wait for it. Oh happy days.

Enough moaning though, my lecture was fun and so I shall shirk off this self-pitying, whining cloud and smile. Yay me.

Again, not sure that was sarcasm or not. Meh.

Anyway, we had to try and write funny opening lines in the closing stages of our humour writing lecture today, something I couldn't help but inwardly groan at. I have a real problem where my mind goes blank as soon as someone tells me to write something. You ignore me for half an hour and you see what I've written then... If you dare that is.

So, I tried my best with this fatal flaw in mind, and somehow, I actually managed to write something - as opposed to last week's attempt where the only things I seemed to come up with were to do with a chicken vindaloo and karaoke. Now, I didn't have the confidence to say these aloud in class, so I thought I'd put them here, as I know I don't have many followers, so not many people will read them, if any. Ha for the hidden dodgey y-front like humour... I can't exactly remember that simile I used last time, sorry.

Ok, so here are the morsels I managed to wring out of my tired cranium, I apologise now for using up valuable seconds of your life:

"Someone's touching my tattybojangles!"

Surprisingly, it was only when the DJ's chosen lights began to flash, red, orange, green, red, orange, green, red, orange, green; that Roy thought that the traffic warden themed school reunion, might not be the success he'd hoped for.

I didn't think my life could get much worse - but then a chav called me sexy.

Like I said, I apologise for wasting valuable seconds of your life. Unfortunately, I have no way of repaying them and quite frankly, it was your fault for wasting them - I did warn you.

On that note I shall make a hasty exit from the world of blogs - that is, until the next time I write, of course.

Aloha.

So much to do, so little time, to quote a hideously sappy school-girl book series my sister used to love

2009-10-02T16:40:00.007+01:00

Aloha again, bet you didn't expect another blog so soon? Well, it has come to my attention that, compared to many blogs I follow, I don't publish my drivel anywhere near as often as I should - me thinks someone, somewhere was neglectful in notifying me of these rules.

Anyway, trouble is I have very little to write about really. I have reading to be done still - I'm almost done with Henry V (I would've been done by now if it wasn't for my sultana relative. Sorry, that's referencing my story from Craft of Writing last year. I really shouldn't reference stuff no one has ever read) and I'm still eyeing Watchmen with a degree of fear and resentment. I've already read Orphee (there is an accent needed above the e there, but I can't remember the keys to use to get it) and "the" story for Humour Writing.

Actually, that reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend of mine. We were discussing language really, which was odd for her as she's studying Forensic Science (she's into CSI and all that, I used to be but didn't have the stomach for the dead bodies), but anyway, I remarked how funny it was that a simple change of wording can make something sound much more important and epic.

For example; "a muffin" becomes "THE muffin" - the capitals are purely for effect. "a chair" becomes "THE chair". Do you see what I mean? We had a right old giggle from being overly dramatic and random with our examples - I think this stems from us both taking GCSE drama all those years ago myself, but it was a fun exercise none the less.

Why you needed to know about it, I have no idea, other than I can't think of anything else to write about. Told you this stuff was drivel.

Ugh, have just thought I have also got to make my bed, tidy my desk and probably cook dinner as well. Oh well, at least I have Strictly to look forward to.

Yes, the beloved and very spangly Strictly. I was thinking, Alesha's ears must've really hurt after last Friday's show, whilst I'll say her earrings did look really nice, they were huge! Not in a Pat Butcher kind of way, but a pretty, glam kind of way. They were pulling on her ears though and, if it were me, I wouldn't wear them for lack of comfort. Earrings aside, I liked her top/dress (I couldn't see what it was exactly because of the desk) but the feathery neckline would've been better shown off with her hair pinned up. Just an observation, not a criticism, I like Alesha, she rocks.

Oh, and how cool is Ricky Groves? Much loveage for the moon walk and the Cha Cha Cha, can't wait to see his Paso either, I have a feeling it is going to be immense.

Darn it, I seem to have used up all my writing energy for now. Oh well, no doubt something will come to me, like my thoughts on Strictly for instance. Or perhaps I should look at some of my old fanfiction and perhaps, possibly, get around to actually updating one of them.

Ha. Like that will ever happen.

Aloha.

Humourless Writing

2009-10-01T18:40:00.006+01:00

I'm not funny when I want to be, only when I don't mean to be. Fact. Which is kind of sucky because I'm taking a module called 'Humour Writing' at uni. Now, we've been warned (repeatedly) that the module is not particularly funny - mainly because once you start analysing humour it kills it, much like a flea that's been sat on by the fat lady before she sings.

We were asked to re-write a paragraph given to us in such a way so it is either funny, or has more potential for humour. Mine sucked so much I won't offend your eyes with it, much like I didn't pain the ears of the class with it the other day.

However, this got me thinking about failure - I know, such a gloriously happy topic isn't it? Sarcasm by the way - flagging it up because as I've said, my humour writing is pants - a pair of disgustingly old and cringe worthy y-fronts no doubt.

But yes, failure. I don't fail often, I don't mean to brag, it's the truth and I see it as a disadvantage, not something to have pride in. You see because I don't tend to fail, if/when I do, bang goes my confidence and I fall apart like some poorly constructed Mechano figure or the like. Failure makes me feel physically sick and I'm worried because not everyone makes it as a writer. Not everyone gets published, I don't care if I don't make a lot of money, but one day, I'd like to have a book published. Then the doubt sets in, not everyone makes it, what if I fail? Then the panic starts and the sickness sets in and I wonder if it's all worth it. I mean, I'm planning to become a teacher anyway, that's my primary dream; being an author to me is a dream I know probably won't come true, but it's nice to have.

That doesn't mean I don't dislike failure though. I'm sure no one truly likes it, but still. I try to tell myself that failing's ok, that we learn from our mistakes and all that, but perhaps I need to mature a bit more and grow up, and to understand that I can't get everything right first time and I'm not meant to, else I'll never learn from it.

That's the thing though, I know what I'm meant to do, I know the advice I'm meant to follow - it's following it that's the problem.

Oh well, c'est la vie. I shall have to put my humourless writing and fear of failure aside long enough to read Watchmen (oh joy) and re-read the story for Humour Writing (won't type it as it has swearing in the title :O ) and finish reading Henry V for Shakespeare (I've read everything but Act 5, which apparently, is the most interesting bit, so I'm told anyway. Sod's law that it comes up last).

Fare thee well, probably bored by now, but still very dear, readers, until the next time I try to think of something funny and end up coming up with nothing but trash.

Aloha.

Genius

2009-09-25T15:53:00.004+01:00

There's A Kind of Magic to be had from an Anything But Ordinary Bad Influence. Just Breathe Slow, prepare for Lazy Days and hope people will have Mercy when your Sex is On Fire.

What the hell am I talking about? Well, I am fascinated with the genius function on iTunes and have been mercilessly using it. The result? I try to make a sentence out of the saved playlists original "geniused" tracks while I'm bored, the product you see before you - not that I'm saying it's good, it blatantly isn't.

For those of you who don't know what the genius function is (either from not seeing the TV ad, or owning an Ipod, whatever), you select a track from your library and the genius function will make a playlist of tracks that fit together, all starting from that first song. Good for people who can't be bothered to sort their own playlists - I do make my own, I just can't be bothered to keep scrolling and adding to one on the bus so this is easier.

Does make me wonder though, exactly how clever are machines going to get? I'm beginning to think my Ipod is cleverer than me in the Music department... Either that or more hard working and motivated, which begs the question why we don't see more Ipods working in shops and factories and other jobs... Or perhaps it doesn't, perhaps it's just my bemused sense of reality. Meh.

Just think though, they're developing AI, computers get more and more memory and processing power and calculators get more and more buttons every year and don't get me started on mobile phones.

I'm waiting for the day when my personal electronics (like my Ipod, my Mobile and my laptop) will run my life for me by doing my cooking, cleaning, washing and uni work. Face it, they already run our lives in most other ways - communication, research, storage, reminding, entertaining etc.

If the genius feature on my Ipod can take away my free choice with what music I listen to without a complaint from me, what next is going to be taken care of for me by an electrical device? I'm not paranoid, honest, I'm just curious.

Technology can be a marvellous thing, I do wonder sometimes though, whether we let it control us, rather than us controlling it. Wow. Gone all Doctor Who on this blog. Oh well, gotta love the DT.

Now just to decide what to "genius" next... Hmm perhaps a bit of Mel C's Goin' Down or Pink's Centerfold?

Aloha.

Things that confuse me

2009-09-19T21:50:00.008+01:00

Things that confuse me number 1: Why my hideously painful blister on my foot is shaped like a heart. Ironic? Yes. Amusing? No.

Things that confuse me number 2: Why people get up on the bus, walk to the front (all the while lurching forward) and then - and only then - press the button telling everyone you want to stop. WHY? If you press the button, the bus will stop and you can get off without fear of injury, every moron knows that.

Things that confuse me number 3: Why people always mention it when they hate something (repeatedly) but don't say anything when they like something. What's with the culture of pessimism and dislike?

Things that confuse me number 4: How my mother can not find Walk on the Wild Side hilarious. Although she does agree that the Marmots are awesome.

Things that confuse me number 5: Why people seem to think that loving ice skating is weird. When I tell people I'd rather go skating than go out clubbing, they look at me with astonishment. Why? Just because you're not into it, doesn't mean I'm not and vice versa, just because I don't like clubbing doesn't mean you have to dislike it too.

Things that confuse me number 6: Metabolism. 'Nough said.

Things that confuse me number 7: Why it's so difficult for a major retailer to have stock of things people ACTUALLY want to buy. They have plenty of rubbish that nobody wants, but can't seem to obtain the correct level of the things people demand.

Things that confuse me number 8: How to end this blog entry without it sounding pants.

Things that confuse me number 9: ... Nah, pass, I can't think of anything more... No wait, last one: Why aren't I asleep when I'm so hideously tired?

Very good question. Goodnight peeps. Aloha.

Creating Sanctuary

2009-09-10T11:33:00.003+01:00

Ok, now I'm not sure whether you can say I'm an organised person or not. I obsess over everything, not in an OCD kind of way, but I like to plan things - I'm already planning my 21st which is about 10 months away for Gawd's sake - but my room? Everything has it's place within the mess of a pit that I sleep in.

Why am I telling you this? Well I am wading through the mountains of memories, bureaucratic crap and general rubbish that is in my bedroom, all so I can move the furniture around so I can have my own desk.

Yes readers - an ACTUAL desk!

Might not seem like a lot to you, but my laptop (whilst I compose this rant) is on a fold up table covered in old receipts. I have no desk or study of my own. I had one in the conservatory - that was no help; love the sunny days but you can't see a blasted thing on the laptop screen and you freeze your backside off if you work late in there. We had an idea that we could put an extra desk in Dad's study. If my room's bad it's nothing in comparison to his, it's a black hole or Star Trek games, computer wires and an old Hi-Fi that plays LPs... oh and a fridge.

Because we're not the sort of people who leave the fridge to rot on the front garden/drive or burn it down the local field, no we give it a comfy, warm space in the converted garage-come-study so my Dad can have own-brand energy drinks whenever he wants.

Point is, because my Dad has the study as his 'refuge' - and I can't be bothered to sift through his mountain of crap - I'm, instead, sifting through my, much smaller, but still very sizeable, mountain of crap.

So far it has taken me two days to clear four shelves in the one cupboard and tidy up the other one. I also have a mountain of shredding to do and have a shelf that is simply 'uni books I'm trying to sell' - namely a Biology book and a Biochemistry book from my first course and four travel writing books that I don't want.

All in all, my usually slightly untidy room is even more untidy, but if it means I get a place to study and use my computer in comfort and quiet, then it's all fine by me. After all, we all need a sanctuary in our lives, for me it's my room... mainly because that's where my bed is.

Sorry for boring you readers, but I had to have a rant today and whilst Facebook is an addictive way of whiling away depressingly boring moments doing neurotic or simply moronic quizzes, nothing beats ranting to people you don't even know and (quite probably) will never meet in your life.

Aloha.

Domestic Goddess... In training

2009-09-04T18:32:00.007+01:00

Aloha to all of you who actually read the drivel that I produce for this blog :) No I am not angry as that initial tone would suggest, I am tired, no, exhausted (for no particular reason I can fathom) and I have a headache. However, this will never stop me from listening to old favourites in the itunes player - currently a bit of Five. Gotta love it; don't care if you don't.

But anyway, I have become a little bit of a domestic goddess just lately. As you'll know (if you've read the more recent entries), I've been making all sorts of lovely treats; meringues, cookies, lemon curd, chocolate truffles and rye bread to name but a few - Nigella Lawson eat your heart out :P . Just recently, I have also got the cleaning done for my mom and the place spotless all before she comes home from work. I'm turning into a 50's housewife for God's sake; minus the patronising husband, lino and the hair structurally reinforced with industrial strength hairspray - you know, the kind that not only vaporises the ozone layer but could also melt your eyeballs given half a chance.

Nerves are also still being grated upon. Whilst I'm a busy little bee, my sister sucks face with her boyfriend and gets in the way (when she's not at college or work that is, so I'll give her a little credit) and my Dad sits watching TV, playing on his computer or sleeping. Fantastic. Brilliant. Couldn't be better.

That was sarcasm just in case the tone wasn't coming across all that well.

Still, I have a break with work tomorrow - Yay. It's my late shift, not so enjoyable, but it's all money in my painfully wounded overdraft, so I don't mind. As my family would say '"Every little helps!" Said the monkey as he peed in the sea.' - And you wondered why I'm weird.

Module crisis is almost over, just a little more consideration and all shall be sorted for uni in a little over 2 weeks. Even got the LEA sorted, they've just got to get their butts in gear and send me the declaration to sign.

There's a bit of monetary Savlon for my overdraft.

So even if the weather's been terrible (which today it actually hasn't been for once, though I am absolutely freezing), things are looking up.

I spent a lovely day with the girls at the cinema. Saw Ice Age 3 - Yes we are 20 and we're big kids. Like we care. Then spent an enjoyable afternoon in town drinking iced fruit drinks or hot chocolate and catching up on things. Saw an old high school teacher and concluded it's not fair that he's not changed in the slightest when we've all grown up loads. We also saw my friend's new house which she has with her lovely boyfriend - this opinion was based on the "Hi" and the "Train leaves at 4:15" which we got in the breaks from his work. She's all grown up *insert overly dramatic weepy girl moment here*.

Still having momentary lapses of grace though - fell down the stairs a few days ago and have bruised my arm. The bruise is still coming out and I'm typing this monstrous blog one-handed. At least the other aches and pains have gone.

Also have the return off holiday of the last remaining girlie of my old high school group to look forward to. More ice skating is necessary me thinks. Have also got a burning desire to take up swimming again, so I have that to brighten these last few boring days before the drama of uni recommences.

I have lots of other things to look forward to, for example, this following year will be the year that all of my friends (and myself, of course), will turn 21. I can't wait, me and the girls have got so much to do for ours next June - might sound a long time away, but we have other friends to shower with friendship and gifts before our own and our joint lavish do is going to need a little care and attention. You see, of my closest friends (of which there are less than 10), 3 of us are born within a week of each other, so for the past few years, we've been combining (or trying to anyway) our festivities to celebrate all 3 birthdays - cheaper for us, cheaper for our mates and more importantly, you get great fun whilst celebrating all 3 of us as individuals as well as the awesome friends that we are. This birthday, whilst not only being our 21st will be the 9th we've celebrated together and will herald in the 10th anniversary of us all being friends - i.e. the 5th of September - our first day at high school.

I'm all smiley now (admittedly in a tired fashion) rather than gloomy, so at least something good came out of this blog. YAY :D

Now if only my darned bus pass and NUS extra cards would show up, everything would be just a little bit more settled - that's the best way I can convey the feeling without an attempt at the kind of warm fuzzy feeling noise that you make when you're calm, thus making me look moronic (more so than usual).

Fare thee well until next blog, whenever that may be. Aloha.

Petra Pan disembarking from Neverland

2009-08-06T13:36:00.005+01:00

I know I haven't blogged in ages and quite simply, I've been busy. I've done a lot of thinking, maturing and changing and, I suppose, living, in my own way.

You see, though I am now 20 - Shock horror - I am not your typical young adult - that being portrayed in the media. I don't spend hours drinking until I puke outside lord knows where, I don't take lord knows what and I don't while my hours away having unprotected fun.

No, this 20 year old spends her days:

Working in a factory for 2 days doing 10 hour shifts before she's so shattered she can barely move and has to jack it in
Volunteers in local primary schools to get experience for future qualifications
Learns how to work digital projectors and other foreign equipment
Makes stationary
Writes stories
Writes poems
Writes a children's story in poetry format
Works in a library on Saturdays smiling at customers and tending to their every annoying and quite frankly bizarre information queries
Receives roses, cards and pictures off school children and praise off the Headteacher in the final assembly (nearly bursting into tears in the process)
Exercises
Loses another 4 pounds in weight (up to 2 stone 6 pounds or so now)
Realises the software for her MP3 is well and truly up a certain creek without a paddle
Shops for an Ipod
Realises how expensive Ipods are
Blags mother to buy said Ipod because she owes said 20 year old money
Waits for a week for said Ipod (still waiting)
Goes ice skating for 5 hours with old friend and finally, sort of, learns how to do forward left crossovers
Has a movie night with another old friend and plays rock band until fingers feel like they're going to drop off
Gives the rabbit several baths and earns several impressive scratches in the process
Try to help mother off the sofa while she has a coughing fit - gets elbow to the eye in the process and can't see properly for nearly 2 days (still have a headache)
Last but not least, write a blog listing all said activities

So as you can see, quite a lot has been going on. Dad is still ill and quite frankly, it's annoying me now. He's tired all the time and grumpy, takes it out on us all and I, unlike my mother and sister can not escape as often as one would like. Note to self: Reduce amount of reference to self in third person. HA Like that will ever happen.

But yes, Dad. Mom is, quite frankly, freaked out because he keeps saying "You don't know how bad I feel." Now, I though this was just a cope out saying - everyone says it when they're poorly, don't they? - but, and this is the reason my Mom is freaking out, that is exactly what my Nanny kept saying in the last 12 months of her life before kidney failure and whatever else took her on her merry way, well took her, God rest her soul. Also, as Dad is suffering and being treated for Thyroid cancer, you kinda can't put it down to just man flu or the like. She, being my mother if you, dear reader, are totally confused by now (which I half expect you to be and congratulate you if you are not), even said to me yesterday, "What if I told you I don't think your Dad will be here 12 months from now?". Now you see, I thought she meant kicking him out because he's been unbearably grumpy and horrible the last week or so and I was like "What do you mean?" she, and quite bluntly I might add, replied, "Dead, that's what I mean."

I hope you can imagine the silence the next few minutes of that car ride, I sure as hell don't want to remember it, unfortunately, my elephantine memory is infuriatingly up to scratch.

But anyway, trials, tribulations and, well I don't know really what else, I've run out of cool sounding words. Point is, I'm growing up - LE GASP! - Yes, Petra Pan is finally leaving Neverland, though slowly and reluctantly.

Although, saying that, I do have an abundance of collectible fairy figurines in my room as well as an abundance of cuddly toys and, quite joyously, I keep getting ID'd where ever I go - more so than I did a couple of years back... Is it sad that I do a little dance inside when asked for it? Anyway, I shall sign off as one of my mentioned old, and very dear, friends is here now to while the afternoon away probably playing on the Wii and ranting about life as usual :)

Farewell dear readers, if you've actually bothered to read all this, I salute you, and shall say once more...

TEE HEE I'M 18, WELL ACTUALLY I'M 20 MR. CORNER SHOP MAN :D

Summer will truly be here. Honest.

2009-05-26T21:55:00.003+01:00

I know I haven't written in a while, but I've been busy - le gasp! Since my leave of absence from uni, I had begun to feel isolated and alone, languishing in my pit of boredom whilst my friends continued to stress over uni assignments and have fun - yes I was actually jealous that I had no work to complete. But recently, i have been busy, walking, writing, reading, celebrating birthdays and the like and - shock horror - getting fit.

I have re-found the joys of a place I used to love and still love too. A place where I can feel at home, truly be at peace, to clear my head and breathe in life. I've made this place sound so magical now, you'll probably be disappointed to find out that it's the local nature reserve, but to be honest I don't care, I love the place.

I will always have fond memories of the place. My parents used to take me there to feed the ducks as a child and the school used to take us for school trips down there - I can't blame them, it's free to visit and it's only down the road. I re-found the joys of the peace and quiet, the bird song, the ducks and geese, the ripple and shimmer of the water in the lake and the sound of the breeze ruffling the grass and reeds. I also found new joys too, such as the path I found when I explored further than I used to go, a path to Castle Ring through the forest that I plan to explore during the holidays, and the fact that other people enjoy the nature reserve too - namely the two nice lads sunbathing on the one fishing pier, I know that sounds overwhelmingly shallow, but hey, I'm nineteen for gawd's sake, lighten up. Besides, I'm still hacked off that I was too shy to say hello.

Where's all this leading to? I hear you cry. Well, I have also been writing - not about the nice lads, about re-finding lost joys and loves - and as I was contemplating a piece of writing I am endeavouring to pen on the subject, I also wrote ideas and poems - yes I took my pencil and notebook as well as my camera on my walk, doesn't everyone?

Anyway, I wanted to blog something for May before the month was over and this is all I could come up with, so I decided to share the works of the last month or so, and so here they are; enjoy.

This one was written near the beginning of May I think, but I thought it fitted the whole walking and seeking peace vibe:

The Nameless Wanderer
A silent path I once did walk,
Alone in the dark of the night,
No comfort or solace, no guiding light,
Until I found with a start,
A pair of eyes staring into mine,
With kindness I could not question,
Their sincerity was clear to see,
So I followed without a whine.

Skin so pale in a night so cold,
But these eyes I could nought but trust,
The darkness and silence, reverence a must,
The eyes, my light in the dark.

I was the nameless wanderer,
Searching for something I can't name,
Questing, though not a game,
The search was my life.

I am the missing one,
The one lost upon the wind,
The floating soul upon this path,
With no wish, nothing to defend.

Until one night, as I wandered alone,
These eyes did confront me,
Such kindness, such sincerity,
Nothing since has felt as home.

This next one I wrote before my walk, but I have edited it afterwards, again the theme of walking and searching is evident here:

Smoke and Mirrors
I shall search the darkness,
The light I shall seek and hope to find,
No matter how pitch black the journey,
I shall have clarity of mind.

The dark shall try to cheat and lie,
With these smoke and mirrors attempt to blind,
But the light of honesty and hope shall move me,
And the care of those who think in kind.

I shall wander and traverse the darkness,
Shall fight and conquer every demon thrown,
I will battle with courage and true dignity,
Defeat with morals those betrayals by others sewn.

So forget the smoke and mirrors,
I shall defeat them come what may,
May hope and love and life,
Keep defective traitors forever at bay.

This poem is the one inspired the most by my walk, though it doesn't do justice to it, I am sure:

A walk of remembrance
I remember these flowers,
The colours of their petals,
The trees, their scent,
The grass, the piles and the fresh-cut smell,
The joy in the sound of the breeze.

I remember the ducks,
How I fed them,
How they quacked,
Their joy to see me,
And so do they.

I remember the forest path,
How it twists and turns,
The chicken wire for grip,
The dappled sunlight just like today,
Just how it was when I was small.

I remember the smell of the mud,
The smell of the water,
The smell of the trees and the grass,
I remember it all with a smile.

I remember the sound of the ducks,
The sound of the geese,
The sound of the breeze through the trees,
How the breeze sang through the grass,
How it giggled through my hair and how my heart rose.

I had forgotten all this joy and more,
Forgotten the peace and tranquility,
The inspiring beauty and awe,
I had forgotten the place it held in my heart.

I had forgotten it all, but now it's found,
Now I have found my home.

And so May is almost over, let June bring more giggles, joy and parties. Summer will truly be here, I can feel it in the sunshine and hear the giggle on the breeze.

And that's not just me being poetic either. Honest.

Queuing

2009-04-17T23:30:00.001+01:00

Ok, this is going to sound really boring and typically British, but I hate queues. Yes, the beautiful art of queuing. I don’t know for sure who invented it, but I’d bet money on some bright spark somewhere in the British Isles a few centuries ago – we needed the years to perfect it after all.

Now, I’ve never been abroad myself, but if my friends and anecdotes from TV programmes are anything to go by (which they probably aren’t, but I’m going with the flow), then the wonderful (ha) world of queues has its home in Britain. Why do we have queues and why are we so naffing good at queuing? One, because it’s probably been bred into us over the years and two, it gives us something to moan about.

Yes, the other great British love – to moan. We are a nation of moaners. Not because we’re miserable per say, we don’t all look like bulldogs chewing wasps after all, no, just because we’re good at it and we’re not blind. The world’s not perfect and we don’t pretend that it is. We’re not deluded, we’re visionaries but not fantasists, unlike some nations I may or may not mention.

As the popular comedian, Dara O’Brien commented in a tour, I forget which one, he remarks that all major nations in our knowledge have common, stereotypical keywords that when you say the name of the nation, you will come up with a similar outline. Very wrong practise, but we’re human and we learn by mistakes. One of the examples given, just to illustrate the point, is that the French are arrogant and smelly, now I’m not saying I agree with this, but for Britain? I reckon it involves queues, moaning and tea.

Now there’s nothing wrong with a good queue, a proper queue and we all know what that looks like – a short, quickly moving one. Hence my frustration today when I encountered not only one poor queue, but two.

The job centre – full of confused looking people, desperate to get out into the sunshine and away from the glaring lime green colour scheme and stuffy atmosphere into the cool breeze outside – was disorganised to say the least. With a back logged queue, two desk operators (which had initially only been the one) and a wealth of people coming in (even more than usual because of the recession no doubt, not that I know as it was only my second visit), the twenty minutes I waited felt like an eternity and all this pain and boredom for a meeting that lasted a grand total of two hundred and ten seconds (sounds longer than three and a half minutes, doesn’t it?). To say I felt cheated would be an understatement, but the relief of escape was immense.

The second queue was in the pet shop. The pet shop I use is a dark, oddly friendly, though pungent, smelling little shop, where a queue of three people and a dog was waiting for its next victim – me. As I waited, the door wedged open as usual, the draft was chilling, adding to my honest wish to scowl after enjoying the gentle warmth of the sunny day. The first woman, I’m guessing from the end of the conversation she was partaking in, was asking for details on a veterinarian, had to have directions given to her twice because she got confused and then had to have a detailed discussion on the best method of how to get her cat into her carry case without injury (from her tone I guessed to the woman herself and not to the cat). The second woman, an old lady was almost tripped up by her over excited spaniel and had to have a discussion about non-splintering bones as dog treats – this sounds like it should be a short conversation and, unsurprisingly as I’m moaning, it wasn’t. The third person, a young girl, I’m guessing was running an errand for someone else as she had no idea what she was asking for, had a discussion over the instructions she had on a piece of note paper. Whilst this was going on a middle aged bearded man came in, all jolly from the sunshine. Now I’m sure you can understand my bitter thought of “You can wait your naffing turn, pal.” - I was frustrated after all. I asked for the rabbit food (my reason for entering the shop in the first place) and within moments I was retreating hastily from the shop into the warmth of the sunshine with great delight.

Now I’m not saying ban all queues, we’d descend into manic lawless-ness, reminiscent of a five year old’s birthday party once the magic word ‘cake’ has been mentioned. No, I’m just point out the, quite frankly obvious, stupid nature and feeling of resentment and hatred that they cause.

Queues, so justifiable and fair when moving quickly, so hated and despised when giving rise to unnecessary delay, a beautiful oxymoron of a British concept.

But I suppose we wouldn’t be happy if we didn’t get our regular moaning fix, right?

Tomorrow

2009-04-09T14:34:00.001+01:00

“Under the certainty of time and the uncertainty of tomorrow, when yesterday is already ours, the present is ours for the shaping and tomorrow is but a wish upon the wind, what more can we ask for?” – H. L. T 1989 - Present

Recently, there have been a lot of questions being bashed around in the news, ‘why haven’t the government done more?’, ‘who’s fault is the recession?’, ‘why isn’t something being done?’. It’s not just the recession. Once more the holidays bring news of the deaths of young people, the cave in is just one such instance reported in the news and more questions are asked, ‘why were they in there in the first place?’, ‘didn’t they read the sign?’.

So many questions and so few answers. I’m not going to pretend that I have the answers, I don’t and to parade myself as a fountain for knowledge would be stupid. I’m not going to chalk it up and say that it’s just life and we have to live it, because, even though that’s exactly what it is, that’s the easy way out, all be it the most sensible one.

It’s easy to get philosophical when the world seems to be against you, it’s harder to be proactive and to do something about it. It’s easy to sit on your cushy backside moaning to highest heaven about how things have gone to the dogs, it’s harder to get up and take a stand. So I guess, by writing this, I am taking the easy way out, but as my friends have dubbed this ‘the summer of saving’ we’re trying our best to do something proactive, if only for ourselves and even if we have had the worst of starts.

There’s only so much you can do within your grasp, but it’s the tenacity of the human race that forces us to try and push this boundary, to reach past the obtainable and to aim for the unobtainable, however futile it may first appear, at least if you fall short, you’ve tried. I suppose this sounds noble, but it’s also this quality that has caused our greed, our problems right now stem from this and it’s our duty to learn that even the greatest of strengths can also be our biggest curse if we do not learn to control it, to act within the realms of reason responsibility and restraint.

Recently, I’ve had to try and explain to friends why bad things happen, why the world seems to test us, to comfort them. I try my best but it never seems to be enough because to be honest, I don’t know. It’s clichéd, but true I might add, to say that bad things always happen to good people and it’s easy for the most cynical of us to believe in this statement. It’s easy to be resigned to the fact that good actions never seem to prevail, it’s easy to indulge the darkness of spirit that lurks inside every single one of us. What’s more challenging is rebelling against it. Rebelling and being the best that we can be anyway, rather than settling for second and blaming others when everything goes wrong.

I watched the news the other day and they had this debt counter on screen that was constantly going up. In the space of five minutes the debt had increased by about 3 billion pounds. Depressing I know, but I sat there thinking, to me, those are just numbers. I’ve never even seen 3 thousand pounds laid out before me, let alone 3 billion. To me, it was incomprehensible and probably always will be. It just made me think, they’re numbers in a computer. What’s to stop someone from re-setting it to 0? From wiping the slate clean and starting again? I can’t pretend to understand world economics fully, I only have an AS level in Business Studies and I never really grasped the micro and macro economic theories, but it does make me wonder, if we could just reset everything, to start again, wouldn’t that help?

Although to be honest, we’d probably mess everything up like we did before.

If I’m honest, I believe the recession isn’t the fault of the few, but of the many. Sure, we were led into a false sense of security by our leaders, but we were the ones that followed, we are still partly to blame and it’s time we faced up to that. The thing is, things can be improved, by the many, not by the few, but it takes more than once person to decide to do the hard thing, to refuse the easy option of sitting there, blaming everyone else and not doing a thing about it.

You’re probably wondering why I quoted myself at the beginning of this blog. Well, the truth of the matter is I couldn’t find the words I wanted from a more impressive figure than myself, so I had to make do with my own, rather limited, eloquence. What I’m trying to say though, is that, we’ve already shaped the past, we’ve already screwed that up, we’re constantly shaping the present, and it’s our duty to try not to screw that up. The future? The future is just a wish upon the wind, tomorrow is no more certain than three or even ten years from now. But if it is merely a wish upon the wind, then surely we can wish it to be whatever we want it to be? Surely we can wish for a brighter, better tomorrow?

We can, it’s just up to us to make the wish come true.

Sure we can ask for money, for wealth, for gold and riches. But I’d rather ask for tomorrow, for security, for light and hope.

That’s my wish upon the wind.

Just a Deep Thought...

2009-03-25T18:10:00.000Z

Ok, this may sound extremely arrogant, but I think I’ve answered the meaning of life.

Yeah you read correctly. Prepare to suspend your scepticism though and listen to what this nut job has to say, you might actually agree with me... for once.

Basically, I reckon our lives are just part of a much larger picture, well actually not a picture but a game. If you’ve ever played the Sims (or the very successful and addictive Sims 2 – yeah I’m an addict, get over it), then you might get what I’m suggesting. Basically, we are Sims. Every single person on the planet is a Sim. Whether you’re stupidly active or downright lazy, a neat freak or a slob, a total meanie or a complete sycophant, I say you’re a Sim.

Why do I say this? What are my reasons? Well, I’ve had quite a bit of time on my hands lately and I needed something to distract me from the stuff that’s going on in my life (don’t worry, I shan’t bore you again, but if you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you might’ve gotten an inkling), so I dusted off my expansion pack disks, loaded them onto my laptop and got to playing. Yeah, I guess I do have a bit of a God complex when it comes to playing, but I don’t care – Jennie is not going to spend her week eating grilled cheese sarnies all day just because she lost her job and decided to fry her brain with the re-programmer and don’t get me started on Connor, he decided he wanted a stupid car wreck that he could do up and hasn’t touched it since – he’s not going to get the stupid guitar he wants now, he can play with the car if he’s that bored.

But this got me thinking, if I’m playing the Sims because I’m bored, because I need entertaining, maybe that’s why we’re here. I mean, the Sims are essentially people, made of code and stuff instead of DNA, but they’ve got personalities, feelings, minds (however screwed up they maybe). What if DNA is just the coding for the kind of Sims we are, in a much larger computer? What if we’re only here because big Chief God man (or woman... or both, I don’t know, do I?) is sick of playing Solitaire on his/her/it’s laptop?

I know what you’re thinking, this girl really needs to get out more, and you’re right, I do, but that’s not the point. What I want to know is what happens when the computer gets switched off? Is that the end of the universe, or does it just get saved and the ‘player’ comes back to it when they need entertaining again... Or the next game they want to play comes out? I don’t know... Resident Evil 5 billion or something.

Also, you’re probably thinking, why stop at the world? Well if the latest game from the creators of the Sims is anything to go by you don’t have to. Spore (another addiction of mine) all revolves around evolution (I so dare somebody to show this game to creationists, I really do), you are the almighty player, the entire species; nay universe is contained within your computer – you control it all, well I say all, there’s an element of AI in that too.

Which brings me back to the meaning of life, in a very tentative way, but hey, it’s my blog, you can criticise the writing when you write your own (and even then I’ll still consider stabbing you in the eye with a spork)... Where was I? Oh yeah, the universe. I used to think that the edge of the universe was a shoe box, because when I was a kid, I thought God had made the universe in a shoe box and if we kept travelling for long enough, we’d reach the edge and lift the lid or something (then find out that we’d been left on a forgotten shelf in his/her/it’s shed probably). Now I wonder if we’re just in one massive computer, bigger than we can possibly comprehend.

I know it’s weird, but just think about it. Fellow players of the Sims will know about the task queue, essentially you tell a Sim what to do and these jobs are lined up, when you cancel one, they proceed onto the next one, usually with a slightly disappointed or confused face, but they do it... If they’re behaving. Well have you ever forgotten what you’re doing half way to doing it? Or cut off when you’re saying something because you’ve forgotten what it is you were going to say? Well you’ve just had your task cancelled my friend, consider yourself one of the Sim mass.

So, now that you’re very weirded out, I thought I’d just push you over the edge – why only do half a job, right? If you type AI into Google, you’ll find loads of info on research into Artificial Intelligence – don’t worry, your computer won’t suddenly start talking to you – but what if they combined this with the coding and stuff found in the Sims (and it’s very popular series blah, blah, blah)? BAM – Digital Humans. I mean, we call them digital, but that’s just their world, the data that makes up a Sim is essentially the same in principle as the nucleic acids that form the nucleotides that are the building blocks of life, including the human race. So, if we can do it, what’s to stop the Sims from doing the same within the game? What’s to stop the possibility that somebody already did that with us? – So I tell you again, we are Sims.

Now, I’m not saying this is undisputable proof, far from it, these are just the ramblings of, well look at the title of my blog as a whole. But, just think, if we can create life, or are well on the way to achieving it, who’s to say the process hasn’t already been followed once, to have achieved something already and that we are the product?

It’s just a thought.

In The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy the smartest ever computer, Deep Thought, is created to deal with the problem of the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. Said computer (who, if the movie is anything to go by, is a cartoon addict), declares that the answer is 42, but does not supply the question because he/she/it doesn’t know the question, but has designed a blue print for the ultimate computer to produce it – Earth. So we’re back to being part of a computer programme again. See, I don’t just ramble, I do plan some of this stuff out in my head first y’know.

What happens when we do fully answer the meaning of life anyway? ‘Cause I’m not saying I’ve achieved that, well I was, but I’m not arrogant enough to keep up with that. What happens though when we do find the answer? Does the world dissolve and we get to level 2? I don’t know, there’s no goal in the Sims, that’s the point – you make your own goals for the entertainment, to see what you can get your Sims to do, so you can play how you want to play. So perhaps the question is not, ‘what is the meaning of life?’ but, what entertainment goals have we got to fulfil? Or perhaps, as Hitchhiker’s declared the answer is 42, how many entertainment goals have we got to fulfil?

Like I said, it’s just a thought.

Epiphany

2009-03-17T15:16:00.000Z

Ok, not many people will claim they have had an epiphany, but they will have had the experience. No matter how small or insignificant it may have seemed. I suppose I should call them realisations rather than epiphanies, but I prefer the latter word. I’m not suggesting that everyone realises something profound and life changing on a daily basis, but sometimes, there are things you come to terms with at the weirdest of moments.

Now I’m not some hot shot business person or a high profile politician, my ideas and opinions don’t make an impact on the world and I’m ok with that. It doesn’t matter to the world if I make a wrong decision or say something hurtful, but it does matter to me. Now this isn’t the realisation I came to, I’ve known that for years, no, I’ve come to terms with myself, with my own person.

Like I said, I’m not a world-known face, not a VIP on the world stage. I’m not a genius and I’m not a cat walk model. I’m not a Saint but I’m not a villain. I am me.

For years I’ve not been comfortable with that. You see all these magazines, tv programmes and God knows what else that prescribe what you should be like, the labels you should conform to. Well my epiphany? To hell with the labels, there is only one label that I will accept – Simply Me.

Why should I be anything else? There’s a reason for who I am – I am who I’m meant to be. I know not everyone believes in higher powers and all that jazz, or they don’t agree on what’s out there, up there, whatever. One thing I think we should be able to agree on though, is that there’s not one thing we should all be, we’re all meant to be different. If we were all the same there’d be no change, no improvement, no difference in opinion and ideas, no discussion, debate etc. How would we progress? We’d be stuck, stagnant and lost in a boring mass of, well, boringness.

I suppose the easiest way to think about it is a chocolate selection box. If all the chocolates were the same, you’d get bored after the first two or so, whereas we all know you’d rather eat the entire box and heaven forbid you’d hate the chocolate all together.

I suppose what I’m trying to say, is that reassurance is nice and all, and we all need it sometimes, but we don’t have to rely on the validation of others. We don’t have to rely on others to say what we are and what we are not, we can define that for ourselves. We all have our own levels of dependency, but I’m suggesting that we depend on our own judgement, rather than that of others. That we rely on that gut feeling, the instinct, the impulse, the vibe.

Epiphanies are cool and all that, but they can be unsettling. The reason it’s an epiphany is because you realise something that you couldn’t before, I suppose that’s the point. They’re unsettling because the unusual transforms into the usual, the ordinary, your world gets turned upside down, it dissolves, leaving you with the feeling that you’re not sure what to believe in anymore.

Sometimes though, they can be the most uplifting and settling thing in the world, because that’s exactly what you need at that moment – change. The ability to look in the mirror, look into your own eyes and see understanding, wisdom, maturity – no matter how fleeting the moment you glimpse it for is.

Reassurance is nice, needed, wanted, but true self-acceptance is priceless and when you have that, there’s nothing in the world that can bring you down, nothing that can stop you from smiling, if only for a moment, until the next thing the world brings to test you comes along. I guess that’s life though, so suck it up, hold your head high and smile – it confuses people and laughing at the world is much better than scowling at it.

Besides, it actually takes fewer muscles to smile than it does to frown, so you’re saving energy by smiling and we’re all constantly told how important saving energy is, right?

Firsts

2009-03-08T17:48:00.002Z

I can remember the first time I had a birthday on holiday. I was three and we were on holiday in Devon, we always went to the same place, Compton Pool. I loved it there and we were staying in a converted hay loft. Me and mom recorded nursery rhymes on my new tape recorder and I’ve still got the necklace that I got, the little crystal heart is still one of my most precious items.

I can remember the first time I held my baby sister. I was only about three, but mom and dad let me hold her. She was so small but she made me feel smaller, she was so big in my little arms compared to mom’s and dad’s. She had such a scowly looking little face and a pout, such a pout that would be a force to be reckoned with in later years. She had this tufty dark brown hair and a bright pink face. For the first time ever, I was a big sister. Still don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse.

I can remember my first day of school. I remember how my black patent shoes click-clacked across the dining hall floor, how the secretary smiled and talked to my mom, how everything and everyone seemed so much bigger than me. The halls were a bright yellow and so was the classroom that we went to. The teacher looked so old, but she was kind and the kids were too.

I remember the first time I went to a funeral. I wasn’t allowed to sit with mom and dad ‘cause they didn’t want me to see my mommy upset. I sat with my Aunty Chris and Uncle Nick. I cried so much that day. I buried my head in my Aunty’s shoulder after I watched the coffin disappear. I will never forget the feeling, that sinking, empty feeling like your soul’s being sucked right out of you. It was the first time I’d sat in a limo too.

I can remember the first time I had to have eye drops for my hay fever. I was scared and I wouldn’t let the Doctor, my mom, dad anyone touch me. I didn’t want the stupid clear liquid anywhere near my eye and if Nanny had been there she wouldn’t make me. Why did she have to die? I started crying and they backed off. The Doctor said something about the allergy being caused by stress. I didn’t know what stress was let alone an allergy. They had to pin me down and mom held my eye open. The drops stung and I blinked at them furiously. I wasn’t the kind of child to throw tantrums often, so when I stormed off with my teddy they knew I wouldn’t be downstairs for a while.

I can remember the first time I stayed away from home without my parents. It was only a weekend trip with the Brownies, but I felt so grown up. I remember it was near Christmas and there was snow all over the trees and the forest floor. We had secret Santa and I got a maths set. Yeah I was overjoyed.

I can remember the first time I went to London. I had such a fantastic day and I got to stand outside 10 Downing Street. We saw the Millennium Eye and we took a boat down the Thames. I saw the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. We were true tourists and I really don’t care. The best part of that trip? Stopping off in Burger King on the way home and not paying for a thing.

I can remember the first time I went to high school. We had an induction day and everything that would soon become boring every day things inspired awe and excitement. Everything was bigger and better than at Primary school and everything was so grown up. No such warnings of the next 7 years boring you to tears.

I remember the first time I went to the cinema with my friends. We saw Stuart Little and I don’t care how pathetic that sounds. I loved that day, just laughing and smiling watching the big screen. The Haribo wasn’t bad either.

I remember the first time I got an award in high school. It was in the Festival of Achievement and I got awards for excellence in Science and the Outstanding Student award. I had to collect it in front of all these parents and the teachers. My mom and dad were so proud. I was so embarrassed – it proved that I was an awful nerd.

I remember the first time I went to Aqua. It was horrid and I hated every moment. It didn’t help that the people I’d gone with were part of the ‘popular crowd’. I never fitted in there and I never will.

I remember the first time I got my heart broken. I’d had this major crush and to be honest, the lad didn’t deserve it at all but I just liked him so much. He was an ass then and he’s an even bigger ass now, I’m glad I had such a lucky escape.

I remember the first time I went to collect results at high school. I was so nervous I thought I was going to pass out. My teacher handed them to me when I began to panic that I couldn’t find them. I sat down and somehow I managed to open them then and there. I have never screamed so loudly in all my life – not even on the Apocalypse at Drayton Manor.

I remember the first time I ever had a job. I felt so grown up and so adult. I held my head high and worked like a demon. I did all the time I was there, for that year. Until my snotty boss decided to be a cow.

I remember the first time I moved out of my house. I cried so much and wouldn’t stop shaking. It felt like my life was over... Although that might be because my parents were separated at the time. I should’ve known when I moved to uni a year later that I’d relive the experience.

I remember the first day I spent at uni. I felt like I’d finally achieved my dream. I’d finally reached the point in my life that I’d been waiting for for so long. It went sour and I left after sixth months.

I remember the first time I truly appreciated my village. Words can never do justice to the colours that can be seen when the sunlight hits the trees and the fields, how the bricks of the houses seem to glow warmly, inviting you into the village.

I remember my first day at my new university. I was absolutely terrified and I felt so alone. Everyone knew everyone else and nobody even realised I was new. I’d never been the new girl before and I hated it.

I remember the first time I went to Varsity. It was awesome, I’d just gotten a grade back, my first at my new uni and Claire and I needed to celebrate... Or rather stop me from passing out from shock.

I remember the first time I went out clubbing. It was really good and I really enjoyed myself, despite dreading it after the many trips to the hated Aqua.

I remember the first time I went on a date. It was nice and I felt appreciated. It’s a shame that I was bored out of my mind.

I remember the first time I had to tell someone I wasn’t interested. I’ve never felt so mean in all my life.

I remember the first time I admitted defeat and asked for help. It felt like I’d betrayed myself because I always give help, I never ask for it. What upset me all the more is that for the first time in months, I finally felt free and it scared the life out of me.

I remember the first time I sat here and thought of all the firsts in my life, as in right this second. There are so many firsts I am yet to have and so many firsts I’d rather not have experienced just yet. That’s life though and there’s always a first for everything. That fresh, never before experienced feeling that can be anticipated or dreaded, longed for or avoided, savoured or despised.

I’m not looking forward to the lasts, but to be honest they don’t scare me too much. Why? Because I have awesome friends who’ll stand by me and who aren’t going anywhere.

Firsts only last for a moment; a smile can always fade away, but my friends? My friends are here forever.

Stop Clock

2009-03-03T18:25:00.003Z

This may sound weird, but for years now I’ve had this feeling that I’m on a stop clock. That I’ve only got a certain amount of time to do things and that if I stop for just a second, that’s it – GAME OVER. Who knows if it’s too many years of keeping to deadlines at school, uni whatever, or just insane paranoia, I don’t know, but it’s a feeling that I have had and still have – that there simply isn’t enough time.

Some people say it’s enough to simply breathe, that that’s the most important part of life and that we should be grateful for that. Some people say that life’s not easy, it’s not meant to be, it’s meant to be a struggle, a fight and that’s what we just have to deal with. Some people say that God finds the burden to fit the shoulders – in that case I must have massive shoulders.

I’d like to say that I am thankful for life and to some extent I am. I value the people I know and I value the few things that I hold precious, I suppose it is greed that makes me wishes for more - more friends, more laughter, more joy, more love, more free time to enjoy it all.

My Dad has cancer.

When I look at him I feel so mixed up inside. He’s had so many operations now that I don’t fully understand and that have transformed him so much that sometimes I don’t recognise him. I feel anger at the surgeons who have butchered him. I feel angry and confused that I don’t understand what’s going on because I always seem to understand. I feel frustrated that nobody seems to want to tell me what’s going on, but when they do I don’t want to hear it anyway because it makes me all the more anxious. I feel worried and afraid each time we leave him in hospital. I feel alone because nobody seems to understand how scared I am and I can’t talk to my family about it – it’s not fair ‘because they feel it too. I can’t tell them that I’m terrified of losing someone else, even though I try to keep positive, that Dad will be ok because he’s a fighter, just like me.

Sometimes I can still see my Dad. Hidden behind all the scars and things they’ve made of him. I can’t tell you if it makes me happy or sad, the fact that he’s not truly changed, but he’s not truly here all the time either.

I sometimes get angry ‘cause it feels like he’s had this warning that he hasn’t got that much time left and he still isn’t doing much about it. Then I suppose I’m a hypocrite because it’s not exactly like I’m living my life to the full either – although, come to mention it, who gets to judge and decide that anyway?

Some people say that the meaning of life is to survive, to survive and reproduce – that’s essentially what animals do anyway. Some people say that the meaning of life is to learn, that life is more than about simply existing, about breathing for the sake of it.

This should be the part where I give you what I believe the meaning of life to be, but if it were that simple, then there’d be very little point and the truth is, is that I simply don't know. I will say this though; that I believe life is a struggle - we have to fight against the things that block our path and that each victory makes us stronger and each defeat forces us to learn.

I’ll also say this; I’m tired of having to fight tooth and nail for every single little thing.

My stop clock’s still ticking and I’m afraid to just, quite simply, stop. I don’t care what the meaning of life is right now; my more pressing concern is what happens if I do stop? Am I right? Is that it, game over? Or does the clock simply reset itself and start again?

I don’t know to be honest, I’m not sure I want to find out either.

People ask why?

2009-03-02T00:50:00.000Z

People ask why I love chocolate so much. I reply that it’s because it’s perfection in food form and who wouldn’t?

People ask why I love to smile so much. I reply that it’s because I like to see the confused looks of the masses and the smiles back from the rare people, the people who become my friends.

People ask why I love to help people. I reply because I’m good at it and it makes me feel complete. I like to help; it’s what I live for.

People ask why I love to ice skate. I reply that it’s the one thing at the moment that makes me feel truly free. That when I skate I can think clearly and let it flow onto the ice. That if I feel upset I can just speed around and feel like I can fly away.

People ask why I love my friends. It’s because I know they’ll always be there for me. They’ll pick me up when I feel as though I can’t and they’ll stand by me. They’ll help me through the good and the bad. They’ll laugh and cry with me and everything will always be ok. They tell me that I’m strong, that I’m brave. I think they make me that way.

People ask why I love to write. I reply that it’s because it helps. It helps me to rationalize the things that I don’t think can be rationalized. It helps me to feel grounded, to order the thoughts that run through my head and make me dizzy. It allows me to laugh, smile, dream, giggle, seethe and cry. The crying’s the most important part. The crying helps you keep calm. To let you know that you’re human because you can feel the pain. That you’re surviving because your heart’s still beating and even though it feels like you want to rip it out and make it all stop, you know you can’t. You can’t because it’s proof that you’re still holding on. No matter how much it feels like you can’t.

People ask me why I always write about myself. Why I write about my feelings.

I reply because that’s the only thing I truly know.

The truth? I’m scared of the uncertainty. I’m scared of it just like everyone else. The truth is though, is that writing helps me prove to myself that I’m human. No matter how much it hurts, it heals too.

Writing is both my gift and my curse.

I ask you, would you have it any other way?

Why the darkness isn’t so dark after all

2009-02-28T21:19:00.001Z

I have been called many things in my life, fat, ugly, dense - many hurtful things. I’ve also been called wise, clever and, more recently, pretty. I suppose it’s all a matter of perception as to what you see.

When you turn the light off, just before you go to bed, have you ever taken the time to just stop and think? To close your eyes, then open them and look around. What do you see? When I was little I would see monsters, my fears, creepy shadows and hide under my quilt. Now? Now, I just see my room, just the same as it was in the light, just in darker shades.

You see, even the most optimistic of us have dark days. When the light from the world seems to seep away to nothingness and all that’s left is shades of black and grey, like you’re in a black and white movie. Not just a black and white movie, but one of the old silent movies where everything’s overly dramatic and your voice is never heard. Where the words of others are left as the only interpretation and they have to be relied upon, even if they’re as far from the truth as can be.

The thing is; what do you do to bring the colour back? Find a distraction? That helps, but you’re still aware that it’s there - still aware of it like some creepy shadow in the corner of your eye... We’re back to those creepy shadows again, not that it disturbed me as a child of course.

Sometimes there’s nothing that you can do to take your mind off it and its in those moments, when you think that your last little glimmer of hope is going to be extinguished that you realise there’s only one thing left to do – to indulge the darkness.

Yep, your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you, Miss Sunshine just said indulge the darkness.

Y’see, my theory is, is that everything comes to an end - everything. No matter good or bad, everything ends, everything dies. So, logically speaking, if you indulge the darkness, it comes to its conclusion faster, as it hasn’t got the joy of seeing you trying to resist and slowly fail, becoming more and more exhausted. It slowly withers and dies because even it doesn’t have the energy to carry on for eternity, constantly trudging the same old worn path that is a metaphor of time.

Wow - poetic.

Seriously though, I’m not saying reach for the many different methods of self-harm - God no. That’s self-destructive and I’m talking about healing.

No, what I’m saying is; get the music out. Get your hands on all the tracks that you just know you need, instinctively. Turn on your stereo, media player, iPod, mp3 playing device, whatever; turn the volume up as loud as you can stand, or even until it seems to drown out the world and just revel. Sing, dance, cry, throw things (that you won’t miss if they get broken and don’t mind cleaning up obviously), hell thump the hell out of your inflatable punch bag if you have one, I might even lend you mine if you ask nicely.

There’s one other thing you need and this is much harder to procure.

You need friends.

I’m not talking about mates that you’ve known for only five minutes, or the ones you say hello to but secretly have no clue of one shred of information about them. I’m talking about friends you share your secrets with, your happiness, your pain, your anger and your joy. Friends who’ll stand by you and tell you when they think you’re being a complete tit. Friends who’ll drop everything to come and check that you’re ok when you say “I’m fine” because they know, just know that you’re lying your pants off. Friends who’ll stay up all night talking to you for the simple fact that they can and that you need them.

If you’re reading this and nodding, then hats off to you, you’re truly blessed and for God’s sake, don’t let those wonderful people in your life slip away from you, although having said that, if they’re that awesome they won’t go anywhere.

If, however, you’re reading this with a puzzled expression or one of sadness, then you’re obviously missing the one thing you truly need in life and you should really do something about it – fast.

You see, the darkness isn’t really that dark. Just like when you turn that last light off, you can always see things. There’s enough residual light for you to be guided by. Enough of an outline for you to find your way back. There’s still hope.

There’s always hope.

And besides, staggering around in the dark is much more fun with an ace friend or two by your side.

The Visitor and The Visited

2009-02-24T20:28:00.005Z

Ok, so I know I haven't blogged in a while, sorry, not going to give excuses and the like, I do that too much as it is.

Anyway, the following post needs a context and so I shall give you one. The following pieces are actually some work I had to do for my travel writing module. We had to write two points of view, one where we are a vistor and then write the same scene from the point of view of the visited. Could be any situation from a far flung country, to someone simply viewing a flat for rent. Mine's simple - A trip to London. Enjoy (fellow Midlanders, particularly those from my home town, I mean no disrespect for the accent representation, it is not poking fun at us, but those who disrespect us. You'll see what I mean ;) ) Oh and one more thing. CANNOCK AND BIRMINGHAM ARE NOT THE SAME PLACE. Thank you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Visitor

There are many joys to be had from the exploration and discoveries that are the open pathways of the traveller. There are many things to be learnt and to be experienced; the eccentricities of human behaviour and culture, the scenery and works of different nations, those things that seem alien to us.

Even within the confines of one’s own country can you find something that you find incredible. For instance, within my own Capital city, London. I viewed the statues, the squares, the buskers and the natives with curiosity. I appreciated these things because they were new to me, though everyday to those who walked by, as if in their own worlds. I immersed myself within groups of tourists, the majority of which always seemed to be Japanese, and listened, not to the guide, but to the excited mumblings of my fellow man.

These were not the things that confronted my idea of what is alien. Indeed, it was the one thing in the capital that I was upon familiar terms with that challenged my notions of what is unordinary, of the concepts and thoughts that I hold about my own home country.

I visited one of a well-known chain of fast-food outlets in order to have some lunch. Now this sounds like a very simple occurrence, but this simple plan morphed into a much bigger memory for me, one that at the time caused a certain degree of incredulity, but now causes humour.

Simply put, the cashier, in all his glory couldn’t understand a word I said,

“I’d like a cheeseburger meal please, and a diet coke.” His blank face said it all. Never before have I been so aware of how I speak. Now, I know that I have a Midlands accent and I know that London has a far different way of intonating and pronunciation, but I was still speaking English. His quizzical expression made me lean forward and now I think back and cringe at how slowly and clearly I tried to speak thereafter, I think it made it worse,

“A cheeseburger meal and a diet coke, please.” Now looking thoroughly confused the cashier seemed to crumble into a panic and I was aware of the queue of natives gathering behind me, the lunch time rush hitting the restaurant with full force. It was at this point that the supervisor noticed the hold up and enquired about the problem.

I couldn’t hear their mumbled words, I can only guess from the cashier’s panicked face. My only clue was the supervisor asking me for my order a third time.

“Just a cheeseburger meal and a diet coke, please.” He nodded and relayed this to the cashier, said man looked thoroughly mortified and rushed to procure my order.

“Sorry about the confusion.” I simply smiled through my frustration and left as quickly as he’d pounced upon the order once it had finally been translated for him.

At the time, I wouldn’t have minded if I’d been speaking in a French accent, or if I had been speaking Spanish or the like, but when speaking your native language in your native country, you do at least expect to be able to order your lunch.

----------

The Visited

I had not worked in Covent Gardens long, but in the couple of months I’d been there I’d learnt to hate the lunch time rush. You get a lot of foreign speakers and tourists around Covent Gardens too, so you have to get used to a lot of pointing at the menus and people giving you the wrong change.

Normally I can deal with that sort of thing, you just keep your head down and get on with it to avoid confrontation. “The customer’s always right.” and all that. Well they’re not, but you’ve got to let them believe that they are.

“I’d loike a cheeeseburga meel pleese, and a diet coke.” Well, that’s not something I’d been expecting that day. This girl, I’m guessing she was from Birmingham ‘cause she sounded like she was from there, mumbling something about a coke or something - that’s all I could make out. I had an easier time understanding the Japanese tourists that had been in the queue ahead of her.

I think she noticed my total bemusement as she leant forward and started talking to me as if I were deaf, or she were a tourist abroad, the kind that don’t bother to learn the language,

“A cheeeseburga meel and a diet coke, pleese.” Well at this point I noticed the queue building behind her and thought to save any further hassle I’d just ask the manager. He was paid for this kind of thing after all and said girl was starting to look rather frustrated.

“I haven’t got a clue what she’s saying.” The boss nodded and took over,

“Just a cheeeseburga meel and a diet coke, pleese.” He nodded again and turned to me,

“Cheeseburger meal and a diet coke.” I got to it at once and handed it over, glad to get rid of her. I looked to the boss and he shook his head,

“Bloody Brummies.”

Opposites

2009-02-12T18:55:00.002Z

The world is full of opposites, of this we’re all aware, we’re bombarded with it day after day after all. Good and bad, nasty and nice, happy or sad, hell even asleep or awake. Well, what I want to know, is what happens to all the things that we can’t find an opposite for?

Yeah, I know, its an odd thought to have, but I thought, surely everything has to have an opposite. Newton’s 3rd law of motion is that “for every reaction there is an equal and opposite reaction”, surely that means that everything has an opposite? So why can’t we find them all?

I suppose, if you want an analogy that is, is that it’s like a greyscale. The opposites are the ends of the scale and everything slots into the gap in between, all nicely in order and following a gradient. Life would be so boring if it were so ordered though, yeah it’d be easy, hell, a lot easier, but where’s the fun? Where’s the chaos that we get to laugh at? The chaos that we get to frown and cry at when we need to? The absurdity that proves that the world is imperfect and that we’re meant to be too? The strangeness that gives joy, that gives us something to live for - the experience of it all.

Yeah, I live to learn, I always have. I have so much curiosity that its annoying, but I love to feel that little spark of discovery, to find out something that I didn’t know before. Yeah, sometimes it’s not always a good something, but you can’t have everything.

In high school, I had a friend who wouldn’t stop banging on about me always looking depressed. Then when I decided to smile all the time he told me I was always annoyingly cheerful. Make up your mind for God’s sake. I don’t care now, I’ll be optimistic. In this world it seems to set me apart and I’m ok with that. Be all doom and gloom if you like, I’ll be the one outside in the sunshine sticking my tongue out at passers-by and laughing at the odd looks I get for being so happy. I’ll be the one living life while those who’re too blind to see there’s still joy in the world are stuck in their own darkness.

Don’t think I’m a complete fool. I know the world is far from perfect, I know that everything seems to have gone to the dogs. But I can’t help but revel in the little moments of fun, the moments when I can’t help but giggle, but laugh. I can’t help wanting to feel alive.

I’m sorry if you think that’s nuts, but quite frankly I don’t care. I don’t feel sorry that I don’t fit in.

Yeah, I’m cheerful most of the time and yeah, I’m optimistic. To be honest, being depressed all the time is exhausting and I’m lazy so I’ll stick with my smile thanks.

Even if my optimism does make people want to vomit sunshine… apparently.

"I think, therefore I am"

2009-02-10T22:08:00.005Z

Why do we only ever truly notice something when it’s broken?

Tolstoy said that habit paralyses us, that when we act automatically we cease to experience and so that part of our life is lost - Habitualization devours our lives. This explains my question perfectly - we do not notice things that work perfectly because we expect it, if something is broken, it stands out, it no longer functions for its intended purpose, it can not act automatically and so we are forced to experience it, to view it.

After my Critical Theory lecture today on the Russian Formalists I felt compelled to write a blog, simply because I found it so interesting. Essentially, the formalists were not bothered by what is said in literature, but in the manner in which it is said, in how it works. They said that the purpose of art was to make the familiar, unfamiliar, to bring the ordinary to the front of our perception through the haze of habit that blinds and paralyses us all. In addition, they stated that art does not reflect reality, but other forms of art - it makes the habitual new and creates a dialogue between different works.

It has been said (I know who by, but I’m not sure how to spell his name, so please forgive me) that “poetry is organised violence on everyday speech”. Poetry breaks up ordinary speech, forcing rhyme, metaphors. Poetry mashes up speech into creating the unfamiliar - it de-familiarises the words we take for granted all the time.

Literature is the linear story broken and re-formed into something new, usually the more broken something is, the more literary it is. Why? Because we only truly notice something when it’s broken. So, basically, art is the violation of old processes and forms. This is characterised by Marcel Duchamp’s “fountain”, said piece of art has been voted the most influential work of the 20th century and what is it? A urinal. Speaks volumes doesn’t it?

Another point about our perception is our consciousness. Western ideas traditionally pin consciousness as an individual thing; we are singular. We search for origins, a single origin. This is ironic as we all originate from two people - we’ve all got two parents after all.

Bakhtin stated that consciousness is a social thing, that we are never individual even in our own minds, that we are always at least two people, trapped in our bodies, constantly creating an internal dialogue. Think about it, how many times have you talked to yourself? You always address someone. I didn’t feel so stupid for talking to myself when I day dream when this was explained this afternoon - We don’t exist on our own. We are social creatures as humans and so naturally seek dialogue.

“I think, therefore I am”. Yes, a truly well known quote and usually trotted out by people who wish to sound far more intelligent than they actually are, but this has a purpose, so please forgive my use of it. Basically, we are different from animals, we are human, because we are aware our own death, our own mortality - animals live within themselves, where as we live for ourselves. We are self aware.

However, when we are born we have no sense of self. We do not know who we are until we acquire language, the ability to express ourselves and not just this, but also the social conventions - the grammar of what we are taught is civilised behaviour. We do not obtain a sense of self simply by being, but by comparing ourselves to what we are not. We instinctively think that we have a positive outlook on who we are, when really we prove who we are negatively. For example, I know I am a girl because I am not a boy. I know I am an adult (ish) because I am not a child, a baby. We define ourselves not through what we are, but through what we are not - we define ourselves through differences. Perhaps that’s why I hate things, people, always trying to be the same - it’s boring and its not how things are meant to be.

Ultimately, the best way to explain art, literature, our perceptions and consciousness is through, as with Gerry’s example this afternoon, a hammer.

When does a hammer become a piece of art? - When it’s broken.

To take something beyond its usual purpose, to make it unfamiliar, makes it noticeable, forces it through the cloud of familiarity and makes us see it, experience it anew.

The most important thing I learnt from today’s lecture is to avoid the familiar, to avoid making habit because those moments that we act out automatically, those are the moments that we lose forever and if we are not careful, we will lose the entirety of our lives to routine, to the drabness of convention. So make a conscious effort to be random at least once a day, don’t lose a day when it is so easily avoided.

Besides, it’s a brilliant excuse to have fun by doing something unordinary, don’t you think?

Space case

2009-02-09T08:55:00.003Z

http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/humanbody/sleep/articles/whatissleep.shtml

Have you ever felt like you’re being tormented by your own sub-conscious? Like you’re being laughed at by your own imagination? No? I guess its just me then.

One problem I have is my overly active imagination, which I suppose is good when you want to be a writer, not so good if you want to keep a firm grip on your sanity.

Recently, when I say recently I mean in the last few years or so, I’ve noticed that I’ve become a right space case. I’ll start to day dream and end up having a conversation with myself. I distinctly remember sitting in my usual 3 hour A level Chemistry class on a Friday morning (how beyond evil is that?), listening to the teacher explaining the tasks for the morning’s work. I say listening, I drifted off somewhere else after about 10 minutes of his 30 minute introduction talk and began to shout at myself mentally for doing so; “You’re not listening to the class again… You really should be paying attention you know… No not to me to the teacher you div… You’re still not paying attention, snap back to reality… I said snap back to reality!” - Yeah, I’m nuts, deal with it.

I’ve always had a problem with nightmares too, though they’ve recently become more frequent than I wish to tolerate. I’m the sort of person who can’t watch horror movies, anything gory, things like that - After watching 13 Ghosts I had to sleep with my door open to see if anything was trying to creep into my room, hell I had nightmares for days after watching the stupid BT ad with the gremlins on for God’s sake.

I have my stress dreams too and I know they’re stress dreams ‘cause they’re always the same. I’ve had recurring dreams that are so horrifying I wake up shaking and crying. Nothing compares to the ones that plague me at the moment.

For weeks now I’ve been waking up more exhausted than when I went to sleep, even after having a full night’s rest. For weeks I’ve had to suffer emotionally charged visions that I really could do without seeing. For weeks I’ve been scared and unwilling to sleep.

Friends have asked me what the cause is and I’d tell them if I knew they wouldn’t tell me I’m being stupid, any of my other nightmares I wouldn’t know the cause apart from stress, but I know exactly what’s causing these ones - I just won’t admit it to most people.

I’ve been told to get help, anything to help me sleep, I know I can’t, that the stuff that’s giving me this torture can’t be resolved so I’ll just have to hope that they run their course and stop eventually.

Thomas Edison said that "sleep is a waste of time", I say he’s a nob and whilst, yes he did invent some really helpful stuff that we can’t live without now, I’d dearly love to tell him to take a long walk off a short pier. As the link above will tell you if you visit the site; lack of sleep seriously affects the body’s ability to function. It lists a whole variety of side-effects, particularly how it seriously hampers the brain, reducing cognitive abilities, alertness, inducing forgetfulness and inhibiting the ability to make rational decisions - that pretty much sums me up in a nut shell.

That’s the stupid thing though, its not like I’m not getting enough sleep - I am, my body seems quite happy to sleep for hours on end - the problem is that I don’t feel like I’ve slept at all when I’m awake. To be honest, right now I feel like I’ve pulled the longest all-nighter ever to try and complete uni work - we’re talking an all-nighter lasting about a month or so.

I’m surprised I haven’t been certified and carted off to a nut house yet actually. I suppose my usually random nature has protected me from such - no one’s noticed that I’m losing my marbles… That’s if I’d had any to begin with.

Do you know what’s the worst thing about all this? The fact that I’ve just realised I seriously have a problem as I’ve forgotten why I was writing this blog in the first place and I only decided to write it 10 minutes ago… Oh well, at least I’m living up to the name of the blog - “Ramblings of a half-hearted optimist”.

After such a depressing blog I have decided to be cheerful and end on a brighter note, so it is at times like these I turn to people far wiser than I… or those who at least sound wiser anyway. Louisa May Alcott said;

“Far away there in the sunshine are my aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them and try to follow where they may lead.”

So perhaps I should put my overly active imagination to the test and envisage that all the snow is gone and that the sun is shining…

It’s a start, right?