Friday, 26 March 2010

"Salem, I Want To Go To Bed - Stop Trying To Leap Over My Shitting Head."

After two and a half weeks of no blogging and complete dedication to my studies (or something), I have decided I deserve a break as I feel I am going slightly mad - the other night I almost cried at an episode of Power Rangers such is the extent of my mental state. Yesterday was very productive, until my laptop blew up (bless it). By the time it had cooled down, I had lost all motivation and spent the rest of the day doing shit all. Today was very productive, but I have just made a list of all the things I need to do before I go back to uni and am feeling in quite the state of despair. 

Despite this, there has been a cause for celebration because, as of last Friday, all my lectures for my second year are OVER! I didn't realise until about a week ago when it dawned on me that after the Easter holidays I would no longer have to sit in a stuffy lecture room, watching my lecturer prance around the front of the hall overly-repeating not funny "jokes" about conservatives and sweating profusely from every pore... Last week he spent thirty minutes telling us a story about how someone supporting the conservative party had knocked on his door with a flyer. Subsequently, he chased them down the street with a ukulele calling them a bastard and telling them to 'get off his land'... He's such a cheery fellow. Also, another cause for celebration, I got a first on my Romantics essay - very exciting. According to my tutor is was 'a truly exceptional piece of work'. My tutor is a bit mental, and she'd spelt truly wrong, but I'm still counting it. (She sent me an e-mail explaining that she had been in an emotional mood when she marked it after reading a particularly harrowing book about Keats, but reassured me it that had been second-marked by someone more mentally stable...) I'm not really sure how I got it anyway, all I can remember from the seminar on Keats is having a slight panic and having to leave after the split second I realised my chewing gum was stuck to the top of the pen I was chewing...

Seeing as exams start in about three weeks, life has been pretty dull as of late, apart from the fact that number 53 appear to have gained a new pet cat which has been Christened 'Salem' by the lads next door. It's a bit of a crafty bastard though, the other night I was putting the bins out and I ended up spending ten minutes trying to get back into my own house without it running past my legs or leaping over my head (which it tried more than once, pretty daring given I am about 20 times the size of it). In the end, I had to trick it into thinking I was walking the other way (sly, I know) and then rush back into the house as quickly as I could, resisting the urge to stand on its tail as I did so. (I wouldn't really do that, he can be pretty cute when he wants to be). I also took part in a Psychology experiment for someone's research - I got 8 quid for watching a video on planets, why can't all jobs be that easy? Well, it was sort of easy - I had to then write a small essay about it, which, if I'm honest, was not my best work; I spent about ten minutes trying to remember what "Dark Matter" was. I resisted the urge to make some kind of crude joke, scrawled some rubbish and legged it out of there clutching onto my £8. 

It was £8 well spent though - I got it changed into Euros and took it with me to Amsterdam, which, other than a teeny hiccup involving me throwing up into the tiniest toilet cubicle known to man, was amazing. I cannot believe that they actually let people into Anne Frank's house - in today's day and age, I'm surprised no one has scrawled 'Daz woz ere chillin Y2K10' on the back of the bookcase... and I almost forgot that they spoke a different language - it was weird to do some 'European' travelling as opposed to sat outside a 7/11 in California eating Cheetos. Nothing else much has happened since my return to the country, I have mainly sat on the sofa writing and watching shit TV. And by that, I mean really shit - yesterday I watched a programme called 'It's Me or the Dog' featuring a duo called 'Lorraine and Peanut' - apparently, they'd come very far since the beginning of the series... I do wonder how some of these shows get funding... I did, however, watch a very good film about Che Guevara the other night with my dad and sister which was pretty good, despite the fact that the guy playing him looked the spitting image of Said from Eastenders...

Tuesday, 9 March 2010

"Now, I'm Not Usually Scared of Aliens, But F*cking Hell!"

Why can I never look at anything on the internet without being bombarded with stories of weightloss? I've just spent at least 5 minutes trying to navigate myself away from a page dedicated to 'Julie's Story -"How I lost 5 stone in 4 weeks - and how you could too!" ' - Thanks Julie, but somehow I can't imagine my body being able to handle losing over a stone a week, despite how much it may need to. I'm also curious as to whether a fake tan comes with the weightloss programme due to the subjects in all the "after" pictures looking like they've just come back from a clearly not-inclusive holiday in Hawaii, as opposed to the pale (and for some reason really spotty) looks they were sporting in the "before" photos. Hopefully I will never sink low enough to find out.

This week has been relatively productive, if you include sitting in my bedroom drawing Juno cartoons productive...

My presentation last Tuesday went pretty well; we both wore appropriate footwear and my tutor even went as far to say it was 'exciting' (which, to be honest, I think is a bit too far, but I won't complain.) We had to fill out review sheets for everyone at the end so I went ahead and took the time to fill out one for myself, describing my presentation and overall contribution to the module as 'exemplary'. I hope my tutor reads it and reconsiders me as a worthy member of the seminar group. I attended the student representatives meeting today as well, which should give me a few brownie points, especially taking into consideration that I wasn't late and had even gone to the effort to bring my notepad, clearly showing my commitment to the role as set rep. I wish I could say the same for my ScienceFiction tutor who was sat next to me - he spent the majority of the meeting doodling in his diary and when I looked over at the end I was met with a cigarette smoking alien wearing a giant hat and walking down a road with a sign saying 'To Chester!'... I didn't ask.

Speaking of the devil, or rather, aliens, me and Jayne had quite an eerie xperience involving some kind of extra terrestrials the other night. We were sat on my bed Facebook stalking, a common activity, when a green laser from outside started flickering into my room. We looked out of the window and saw it was coming from one of the gardens down the alleyway, but there was no sign of anyone there leading us to the only possible conclusion - aliens. We spent the rest of the night watching clips of some CBBC show about aliens and the pilot of Are You Afraid of the Dark? I don't know if I was more scared or excited for something to actually be happening in my recently uneventful life. I'll go for exciting.

The conference last week got continually more boring after the first day and a half and I was on the verge of wondering why I was going when it was announced there would be a free buffet. Now, I know for some people excitement comes in the form of bungee jumping in Australia or white water rafting down the Colorado River, and don't get me wrong, those things are very exciting - but a free buffet? That's surely got to be up there! It definitely brightened up my Wednesday.

I worked out earlier that it is now 6 and a half weeks until my twentieth birthday - a little too soon for my liking. Jayne pointed out today that after her birthday (which is in a week and a half), if she happened to die it wouldn't be as upsetting to read in the paper as it would be if she was to die now. The headline 'Young Woman in Early Twenties Dies' would probably have less effect than '19-Year-Old Girl Dies in Prime of Life'. Quite upsetting really. Becoming twenty takes away so many opportunities; for example, I can now never be a teenage mother. Having a baby would now just be a major inconvenience - I would never be able to bring my child up to be amazing and then tell my moving tale of how I was a struggling teenage mother who managed to rise from the ashes. Unless, of course, I unexpectedly pop one out in the next six weeks, which isn't likely (unless the weight I've put on recently is actually a small child growing in my womb). Knowing my luck though, even if I was pregnant I would give birth the day after my twentieth birthday and have my Hollywood story ripped away from me. Oh well, maybe life has something else up it's sleeve which, hopefully, does not involve a child coming out of my body, which, to be honest, sounds to me like a bit too much effort.