Sweet Dreams

I actually have a weird kind of love for those days where you feel utterly invincible.
Like you could just take a giant leap of faith (or off the side of a massive rock pertruding into the sea?) like you could hold your breath underwater for a minute, like taking a hot bowl of chicken super-noodles from the microwave isn't painful and impossible.

Usually when I am on the receiving end of one of those days, I grab it and run with it, you see, it's a rare occurrence and I like to rinse it!

Today was one of those days, as I'm sure you've guessed by now. I've washed my clothes (for once), cleaned my room, did some uni work, put up more posters even though the blu-tack stains the walls and I know it's against the 'rules'. And now I've climbed into bed feeling satisfied that I've achieved some organisation back into my life - I know it won't last before you laugh at my stupidity at thinking I will ever be mentioned in the same sentence as the word organised - and guess what... I can't sleep.... like usual! And hopefully the annoying tapping of the keyboard is keeping my housemates up so I'm not alone.... hehehe!!

So why is it, when you feel you've achieved something, when you feel like its all been packed in and you could have done more, you can't seem to relax and catch some zzz's... but when you've sat around all day like some giant fat whale eating nothing but penguin's and laughing at the shitty jokes on the wrapper, watched some dire old movies, spent valuable time doing sweet f all... you can sleep like an absolute baby!? WHY? It's so unfair. I feel cheated.

I know I know, when your a lolling stinking trackie wearing whale for the day your brain doesn't even turn on so it's easy to slide back into the sweet abyss of sleep.... but why? I just find it so irritating!!

And why is it that when you eventually do fall asleep after jam packed day you always have the weirdest  dreams that seem to leave you either drenched in a cold sweat or waking up at inappropriate hours and unable to fall back into night-time paralysis? My most recent, very urr, interesting dream was that I could change into a cat at will and climb through my downstairs toilet window. A ginger cat. I could see myself. As funny as this seems I woke up feeling concerned... what does this say about me? What's this strange purring noise coming form my throat? Why is there hair on my head? Am I a cat?
And then you loose all sense of reality, absolutely crap yourself that you've magically turned into a cat in the space of 6 hours, and can't sleep for the next 3.

Devastating.  

Night all.

The Sun In My Eyes and The World At My Feet

I always find it really hard to name a blog post so if this one doesn't really make much sense then I do apologise!

I feel like a women in melt-down today. Student life is hitting me, and by jove is it hitting me hammer strikingly hard.

I went out last night (story of my life) to 'THE WHITE RAVE'... basically a big student party where everyone wears white boilers suits and practically nothing underneath and squirt each other with bonkers UV paint! haha! It was such a good laugh, but I somehow thought it would be a good idea to drink a ridiculous amount. The pre-drinking is where it all started... I had a choice, apple sours shots or nice chilled bottle of wine. This time I chose the shots, for maximum effect hehehe. Feeling like a cheeky school-girl who has never done a shot before I lined up 8 shots on the kitchen table and drank my way to happy land where only green tounged monsters are allowed in. We then (me and my 2 housemates) went to a halls party where the drinking and chatting continued. It was here that I decided that this was the perfect moment to drink an entire bottle of wine, in an hour, to myself. We then headed to the party where I bought a number (4) of Jaeger Bombs. Smoooth.

Someone was very drunk last night.

And as a result I have not eaten properly all day. My stomach is still doing flips and it's half ten at night... bluughh. World of pain.

Today I have had 2 chocolate spread sandwhiches and a packet of skips, tried to eat some pizza, miserably failed. boo!

So, after waking up at about 12, the day proceeded in what I can only describe as the most un-productive day of my life where I just loll around feeling ill and sorry for myself, chat on the phone, try to eat, watch TV on my laptop (that's right NO TV! bluu) and try desperately to concentrate this fabulous new found energy on my uni work.
It didn't work. Turns out I'm crap with hangovers.

So now at half ten when all I wanna be doing is sleeping, I'm blog writing, after finishing three assignments in a row! woop! Living the dream.

Actually I know I probably won't sleep anyway, the worry of knowing that I am know living in my overdraft is freaking me right out.... ahh! I don't like that I can have a seemingly endless supply of money, but I have to pay it back afterwards... what happened to free love, free money anyone? I need to buy books, but my recent party animal and drinking habits which result in me eating the contents of the cupboards and needing more food, means that my supplys are running lower and lower below the poor line as I go and I can't afford them.

Changing the subject, the positive of my day is the music I have found a new love for... Hed Kandi Beach House... THE best album I ever bought. Chilled dance vibes mixed with funky house and gorgeous lyrics all blends into one chilled, yet still upbeat album. I skipped forward to the John James continuous mix.... SEXUAL! One hour of butterflies in the stomach. Have you ever listened to something and it reminds you of a feeling or emotion? That's just what this music does to me, I relax my body but inside there are memories circulating and clouding my vision of boring everyday life... all I can think of is the time or place it takes me back to, or the person :) It can actually be strong enough of a memory sometimes to make my day, or break me down. I love it! If you ever find the music that can do that to you, listen to it on repeat all day everyday... such a good feeling!!

Click here. Favourite track of the entire album.

"Who... keeps changing your mind" aahhhhh I LOVE IT!! Reminds me so much of listening to it on the beach on holiday, sandy feet, waves, palm tress ... bliss!!

20 Minutes Shaped The Day

It really bugs me that I appear to have turned into some creature of the night.
During the day my eyes are heavy, I feel wobbly, a bit like my brain is saying one thing and my body another, and I keep falling asleep at inappropriate moments (like in important lectures)!
Okay, so the last five nights I've probably slept an average of 5 hours a night... good excuse for tiredness right?

So... WHY can't I sleep? At normal human hours. All day I lollop around like some useless doped up jellyfish wishing I could sleep and fighting the urge to curl up on the lecture hall floor and have a snooze. Then when night does fall and I eventually climb into bed hoping to get all squish and comfy, I'm wide awake.

All I can think of is what I've done in my day, usually how manic and crazy it's been, what I'm supposed to be doing tomorrow, and was supposed to do today, feeling guilty about it, then wondering if I should just stay up and do it or not.

Isn't it annoying that the one thing I was meant to be writing tonight, a 250 word assignment, I found impossible to start, impossible to even contemplate doing, and now when I'm actually supposed to be catching up on some shut eye I just can't help myself but to blog about it.... and like usual, I'm hardly stuck for words. I stared into my computer screen longingly for about an hour thinking and over analysing anything remotely good that I came up with. I think that's why I never struggle to blog, it's me and my style and I know that there's no mark at the end, no commitment I have to make to try my best, I can just spill my thoughts onto a page in the exact order that I think them.

I wish my hands could type as fast as I think... I keep thinking of good lines I wanna say then by the time my fingers have caught up its lost in the endless mass of my thoughts.

And it's so frustrating!

I really really don't think I will ever understand why the only time I seem to be able to blog is at such ungodly hours, when only hedgehogs and bats should be awake.

I think it's because I keep thinking about an interview I did today for the assignment I was supposed to be writing. I had to find an elderly person and ask them about their life, their earliest memory and get as much detail as possible from them. I stopped a few people in the street and asked them and every time my request was either ignored or politely refused... I think the fact that I am younger than 40 scared them off!! (oh and I met a women with THE most disgusting teeth in the entire world, note to self: look after teeth... don't want yellow moulders like that! yuk) But then I met a lovely man called John, aged 72. I bought him a cappuccino in a nearby cafe and we sat and talked. It wasn't your simple question and answer, he asked me about my life, I asked him about his, we discussed technology and current affairs, his childhood, mine and above all else, how good the chocolate brownies looked. Before either of us had realised we'd been sat there for 20 minutes, drinks empty.

I found it amazing that I managed to have a conversation with someone out of thin air, and without sounding ageist, a good conversation with a 72 year old man, who I clearly have nothing in common with. If all of society was like that for just 20 minutes a day, the world would be a much happier place.

I like to think my random interview and coffee made him happy, mixed up his routine a bit and gave him something to smile about (talking to someone in a hoodie and realising they didn't wanna stab him), you know, a kind of surprise. I think old people are scared of young people, they don't understand them and think they all are rude and ignorant. I like to think that today I proved him wrong... after all, he certainly proved me wrong. I was under the impression that the stories your old relatives tell you are boring and last for hours.... but no!

So I guess I'm kind of laying here now in awe a little bit of todays random interaction and how that 20 minutes proved to make me smile for the rest of the day. Dumbstruck actually.

I'm on the old people hunt from now on!

Blogspiration

Have officially made massive boob-up... and miraculously gotten away with it! WOOO!

Actually though... I'm now kind of wishing I didn't get away with it.

Here's todays sob story... do feel free to laugh, at this ungodly hour (tis 2311 hours sir) I am STILL awake and have been given some blogspiration... a quickie way of ranting out the shit-of-the-day.
Right, when I was 15 n a bit I worked for a hair salon close to where I lived as a way of earning some dolla' and I seriously loved it! I spent my wages the day I got them, on mostly hair products, highlights, getting my nails done, etc etc etc... sooo.... cleverly I thought, I'm now in Bournemouth, jobless, with some experience in salon's, living next to a high street with about 100 of them... maybe, just maybe I should try my luck with one and see if anything comes of it. I picked the one I was most drawn to, went in and tried my luck, left my details and then waited.
For about 3 days.

Got a phone call, got a job basically as a junior doing all the shitty jobs no-one else wants to do... which is fine with me, I don't want to do hair dressing, it merely interests me and I like watching how they do everything (gay voyeur basically just minus the gay part).
I was told to come along (today) for a trial. That was for the entire day... 9 till half 5.
I, cleverly and wisely as usual, thought this indicated I had the job, was being paid for the job, was classified as new staff and therefore prepared myself for the usual poky questions you don't wanna answer from other employees, hunted down the nearly dead and buried smart work attire and actually washed my hair the night before in prep.

However, I was working at the nightclub (I'm a promo girl by night... haha, I even have flyers!!) the night before, last night, and didn't finish till 1am... and was then lured inside with the temptation of free entry, free drinks and free VIP treatment. My friend and I cleverly decided on a voddy and coke each, a shot each and a good old wholesome boogie, followed by a nice yummy (and well deserved) bag of chips, complete with the moaning and groaning of blistered feet and tiredness from a sober-ish night on the town. I flopped into bed at 3am... reached for Cosmo and got lost in the glossy pages for the following hour, and eventually slipped into a happy state of sleep.

One vital factor was ignored throughout this very glamorous process (ehem)... my 7 AM START the following day.

I did set my alarm so the effort was in part there... but I did sleep through it. On day 1 of new job.

HOLY SHIT!!!

So I did wake up, when my housemate flushed the loo at 9.25am after stinking the loo out after an enormous poop. Lush wake up call...

That moment when I reached across to my phone to check the time, then jumped from my bed clutching the little piece of shoddy failure machinery in my hands with a look of dramatic disbelief on my face, would have been priceless to watch as a fly on the wall. I panicked.

What does one do when one cocks up so spectacularly?

Run around in leapord print pj bottoms, with hair stuck to my face with sleep, pillow creased forehead and sticky dribble stained cheeks (I'm the picture of beauty in the mornings, I think if you put me in an issue of Vogue looking like that the readers would think they'd confused their monthly purchase with that of MarwellZoo Weekly)... clutching my blackberry and screaming at pooper-housemate about the crapness of my alarm "IT CANT BE LOUD ENOUGH IF I SLEPT THROUGH IT" and "WHAT AM I MEANT TO DO NOW, CRAP FIRST IMPRESSION WOWWWWW!!!"

That's right folks, I overslept by 2 and a half hours. Impressive work ay? I'm weirdly proud... is that wrong?

I still went though, I swallowed any dignity I had left and trapsed there in order to make a desperate attempt at bum-licking them to like me. Which worked. They want me to work there.

Sucks really that after all that effort and panic the job is crap money, poop hours and I didn't actually get paid for 8 hours work today. Even though I must have served about a million cups of coffee to wet haired strangers and squash to their annoying over hyper children in school uniform, and even washed their hair!! Bare hands, old lady wrinkle folded head = gaggy me.

Oh the irony...

So this is my blogspiration, rant about my shizer day and hope it makes for a funny post...

It's now 2334 hours and I'm starting to see the funny side.

Fresh Fish to Fry

It's official.
I am. In fact. A. FRESSSHHHEERRR!!

This past week plus a bit has been the most manic and bonkers week of my life, with more highs than anyone on illegal substances! I have had two nights in since last Sunday... one of those being right now, where I am chilling and supposed to be catching up on sleep, ready to party hard tomorrow night. I've drunk way too much, partied till my feet have bled and forced me to go home, seen my favourite music live (hed kandi), been to the beach several times, met amazing new people annndddd..... SURVIVED! (so far at least)

Now, I knew that Uni would be a challenging, interesting and above all fun experience, but I don't think anything can ever prepare you for the degree of which all those things present themselves.

The adrenaline that pumps through you when you realise the key in your hand is the one for your OWN (kind of) house, that it is your key to your house! Bizzare feeling.
That you realise your not at home, this is now home. That you get to know, and first meet your housemates, the fellow freshers... your new friends... and to start with your only friends.

It's a strange moment when you realise that the washing up surrounding and consuming the sink in the kitchen wasn't the spew of some evil kitchen nightmarish monster but it is in fact the mess and destruction caused by your own vain attempt at cooking a decent enough meal. It's also annoying when you realise it's you that has to clear it all up afterwards, and again the next day, and again, and oh did I mention, again the next day!?

I love how in my first week here, reality hit hard. I wash my clothes a lot at home... now, not so much. I have to wear a top more than once before its accepted to the pile of filthy laundry that desperately needs to be a, picked up off my floor, and b, actually washed, dried and put away. I have one simple solution.... NAKEDNESS forever, and therefore never creating clothes to be washed (I don't think this plan would work though)

I'm finding it strange to cook things for the first time without someone else to lean on and ask strange questions to. Example from last week, my housemate decided that in order to make chilli con carne, baked beans were a key ingredient! The chilli then was too big for just one person so the rest was stored in a plastic container in the fridge... for 5 days. The chilli then decided it had made some serious enemies in that fridge, that there wasn't enough space for all the food we'd bought and it wanted out, or everything else out for some more homely space. It decided to start decomposing, in our fridge. Nice. the smell of putrid chilli started wafting throughout the kitchen, until it became the first thing you noticed when opening the fridge door! Luckily, we discovered the chilli trauma before it was too late and my housemate decided the strange bean-rotting-meat combo would make a tasty snack.... we chucked it. Thank god. However, another trauma and realisation resulted from this... bins need to be actually emptied. Where is our outside bin, what is the bin day? Where shall we put it if it overflows? We need to buy bin bags. What if someone (some very odd someone) tries to steal our bin from us!?

This week in my often blind panics and strange new moments I have discovered that freshers week is when you figure out EVERYTHING.... not just that your tolerance level to wine and vodka combined isn't as high as you think and that those pictures you took last night hold no place in your memory and really don't look that good... but that stupid and embarrassing experiences, lead to realisations of how things in this world actually work. To get to the rainbow you have to stand the rain (quote stolen from a friend's facebook status but I feel it holds true for this)... the rain being all the stupid, disgusting and weird mistakes made along the way, the rainbow being when it finally dawns on you not to mix whites and colours in the washing machine.

I wonder what the rest of this week has in store...

Letting Go

Now, I am a teenage girl. And, as you may or may not know, teenagers are very VERY busy bees... lots to do, always rushing around, people to see and places to be. Socialising is of course on the top of the list, as is tidying my room (don't make me laugh!).


It appears to me recently that there is always an unfinished task, something I haven't got to, someone I haven't gone to visit in a while, something I was supposed to do aggeeess ago that I still haven't done. But never did I realise in my own business that I have been letting go...


Of myself!!


I haven't plucked my eyebrows in weeks... in fact I don't even remember the last time I did it! Probably when I wrote New Discovery... Of The Most Odd Kind when I plucked the living crap out of my face and ended up looking like an angry red faced grump with no upper facial hair for 2 weeks. Luckily, nobody noticed my lack of co-ordination and precision when armed with tweezers, clearly my large fringe is a gift from God and hides my mistakes/'reconstructions' well. 


Oh how I wish I could say the same right now... my fringe has outrun my nose in the running race and is exposing my eyebrows. 


From now on, just call me bush baby. 


That is the only name I can now answer to.


I can't win! My efforts to tame the fluffy monsters last time resulted in teeny slugs wiggling across my face, and now, in all my important business of being important and very busy, I have forgotten all about them, left them to flourish and grow back into their enormous usual selves. 


And the reason for noticing my random transformation into bush child? Recent photographic evidence. The camera never lies... and those babies are pretty damn hard to hide! I do not wish to be mistaken for a man. Not until at least I reach old enough age when I'm too grumpy, deaf and blind to care. Then, and only then, is letting go in such an appalling manner acceptable! 


Good day!

Love Without Wings Can Be Twice As Nice

I've just returned home after a meal out with some friends and it has literally just hit me what amazing people I'm leaving behind.

"Friends are the family you choose"
"Friendship is love without his wings"

Never could two quotes make more sense to me and relate so well.
True friends will forever be there, no matter what the distance, obstacles or dilemmas you face between you. You can rack up the miles, tick of the days, weeks or even months since you last saw them and never question the magnitude of your friendship.
Bonds that are made between friends are the ones that leave finger, even footprints, over your mind, heart and soul - the memories you create will never leave you and will last a lifetime.
A lover can be an easier one to find, attraction will lead the way for you, making your mind up on first sighting. But a good friendship, a good girlfriend, is a harder thing to come across. There's no obvious attraction (well, not always haha), no obvious pointers that your souls could be linked, no obvious trademarks of interests, hobbies or topics of conversation... so how is a friend spotted. How are they made?

I think it's a beautiful thing how one small moment in life, such as holding open a door, or picking up someone's pen for them, can possibly affect the rest of your life. That person that you've glanced at momentarily could become someone so important to you, someone you lean on, someone you trust and someone you miss, and at that first moment meeting, you don't even know it yet.

So, friends are people you meet randomly right? No... I think it's already decided. The opportunity to meet them is presented to you, it's your decision if you take it up or not. You didn't have to hold open that door, nor pick up that pen. You didn't have to glance their way, you just happened to. You didn't have to bump into them again, or speak to them again at work, ask them a question, find out they are a lot nicer than you first judged, then realise you've made a friend... it was a choice, whether conscious or subconscious, it was a choice you made to persue that friendship... thus "friends friends are the family you choose".

It makes me sad that tonight I have only just realised how great the girls I've worked with for the last two years actually are, each individual with their own ticks and quirks, but that's what made me love them in the first place - it's only when I know I'm leaving it behind in 5 days time, that I truly found how much those friendships mean to me, no matter how close we are or aren't. Now I know I'm leaving it behind, I wanna grip on and never let go...

Thanks for the memories... <3