you are my sweetest downfall...

It's a little too late to be doing this, but I was in the mood, so doing it I am. I'm yet to decide whether that sentence makes sense.

I'm home. Home in Kidderminster, that is, not campus home. We had a bit of a bonfire last night, which could have been much more shit than it actually was. There was food and company and beer. I was satisfied.

Tonight, we went to a Diwali celebration at a friend's house in Kidderminster. Sparklers never seem to lose their appeal. Helen and I spent lots of time playing with funny filters on Ajay's fancy camera while the boys played some kind of duller than dull football game. Again, there was lots of nice food and I feel thoroughly stuffed.

I love Regina Spektor. I have for a long time. I went to see her a few years back at the height of my obsession. Since then, I have discovered lots and lots of bands and my music taste has changed quite radically, but she's the one I always find myself coming back to. She's just so cool with her Soviet charm and unique voice. I. Love. Her. Anyway, because she's so prolific, it's easy to discover something of hers that you've never heard before.

I must have listened to this at least twenty times in the past few days since hearing it in my coffee-filled state at some obscene hour of Friday morning when striving to finish my abysmal essay on Annie Ernaux's ambivalence to her past (yes, I know).

This one is pretty...

And this one's just plain odd...

Happy listening, and good night! ♥

I have just realised that everything in this post has been positive. It even contains a heart(!) I can only apologise, and promise to be more like myself next time!

living for the weekend...

I have a headache this morning. I blame gin.

According to Yvette Cooper, the astronomical cuts of our times will hit women twice as hard as they will hit men, which is a travesty considering that on the whole, we already earn much less. Childcare will no longer be an option, and women will be forced back into the home. Can't you just taste the regression?

Saturdays at university are somehow infinitely better than Sundays, even though the basic concept is the same. Nobody is really up yet (I think I got off easy last night), so I'm just sitting in my room, tidying sporadically and drinking tea whilst listening to Aqualung and writing this. What more could a girl want?

Because the Civil Service pension people made a killing from the premature death of my father, I get a bit of money every month. This is the reason I was able to quit the deathjob and go on my European adventure. They've stopped it now, though and will only start it again once I've proven that I am a genuine student. This means a trip to University House which is on the other side of campus, and my bed is so warm.

Warwick Labour is full of lovely people. I think I'll be going back.

I need to do some washing.

I'm not sure whether it's time for breakfast or lunch. I have an excellent (although I say it myself) chickpea curry in the fridge, but it doesn't really feel like savoury time yet. Then again, Weetos taste no good with skimmed milk. Nutella is usually the answer...

I saw Chiddy Bang in the union last night. I think the less said about this, the better.

ten things to eat when you have no food.

I can't sleep because I'm really nervous about the car crash of results day, so I thought 'Hey, I'll write a blog!'. I would like it taken into account that it is very early in the morning, so please don't judge me too harshly.

As you know, my mother is in hospital, and I live in Wolverley which has one shop which opens somewhat erratically, so tonight, I found my fridge stocked only with rancid chilli con Quorne from a few nights ago. Nevertheless, I am a girl who likes a challenge, and I knew I could find something to stave off the hunger somewhere.

Here is a list of surprising things to keep you going when your mum is in hospital and you live in a place where Costcutter closes at eight and you are in your pyjamas so can't go further afield (besides, you don't own a car or have a license or anything useful like that. Also, you have no money, so even if you did have a car and a license and you weren't in your pyjamas, you could not afford to buy anything anyway. It's time to close these brackets.)

• nutella straight from the jar
• milk
• raisins
• nesquik powder
  
• flora (on crumpets if you are lucky enough to have them)
• slightly crinkly cherry tomatoes
• dried apricots to stop you getting scurvy
  
• an apple from the tree in the garden (though you are not sure if perhaps it is some kind of secret poison apple tree and nobody has thought to mention it to you. You are hoping for the best.)
• some gone off Quorn fajita strips which taste a bit funky
• a tin of tuna.

I ate all of these things while watching 'An Education' which is possibly now my favourite film. I LOVE Dominic Cooper and Rosamund Pike, but in quite different ways. Also, I now want to go to Oxford. This is unfortunate as I'm not even going to get into the universities I have applied for. I will accept this as my lot in life and become a squatter, caricaturist or busker (ukulele) as was intended when God made me out of a crappy bit of left over person.


Still haven't started War and Peace. I'll keep you posted...

still hanging...

I'm in a splendid mood today. This is partly because I never quite got round to getting dressed and partly because I wrote an essay. This is a very rare occurrence and should be marked with champagne and fanfare! Unfortunately, I only have fishcakes and disheartened laments, but I'll take what I can get.



You've probably come across this before, but it never fails to make me smile. Yes, it's lame, and once you've watched it, you pretty much forget it all; all seven minutes of it, but I pretty much love it all the same. I'm not sure I'd watched in the past year, however, so the bit about 'getting to know your parents' made me a bit sad. Nevertheless, if in need of a bit of a lift, this is the place to get it.

And look! I've learnt to embed! I feel this is the thing I need to take my blog into new territory.



Oh look! I did it again!

Finally, Heidi Montag has a new face to celebrate her separation from the Pratt.

She went from this...


To this...


This absurdity is compounded by the fact that she is twenty four. She also got her boobs done. Big time. What is wrong with society? Grumble, grumble, grumble...

It happens every time. They all become blueberries...

Today I handed in my two pieces of English Coursework. For good. That is it on the coursework front. Unless you count History. Which I don't (it's a sort of un-subject in my opinion). This means I never have to open my somewhat worn copy of The Bell Jar again. Of course just because I am not required to do so, doesn't mean I won't. Whenever I'm full of melodramatic teenage angst or general melancholy, Sylvia is always the one who teaches me a little bit of perspective. I know it's dull to read about my considerable workload, so over the next couple of months of hell, I will try to keep the school talk to a minimum.

I just discovered this on the Guardian website. It's fairly lovely as acoustic Biffy usually is. Simon Neil is THE sex. That voice! Those eyes! That... err... beard? I love how his accent isn't at all compromised when he sings. Also, he has a tattoo across his chest saying 'God only knows what I'd be without you'. Normally I am on the fence tattoo-wise. Personally I can't imagine ever liking something enough to get it scrawled across my body but I think they can look good sometimes. If ever there was a tattoo that could make a man soar up the ranks in my eyes, a good Beach Boys reference is probably it. Well played Mr Neil...

I'm still off meat but very much on the fish. I really didn't used to eat all that much fish, but being sensible, I am conscious that I need to get some protein somehow. My preferred source of this is cheese, but aware that I may swell up like Violet Beauregarde, I have decided to go for fish and fish-type things instead. Fish fingers have become my token comfort food and I had some really nice salmon the other day... Also if I eat fish, I can convince myself that it's meat. I cannot do this with any sort of mycoprotein, no matter how hard I try!

I seem to have replaced sleep with reading, a calm, serene room with one filled with revision-based post-it notes, and nutrition with biscuits. I keep telling myself that if I just work hard for the next month and a bit, doors will be opened to me for my entire life. It's strange that this sort of psychobabble can actually keep you going. Not that it will matter if I get scurvy. Maybe I should eat an orange...

nutella goes large...

I am excited about the impending election. This will come as no surprise, I'm sure, but it's true. There are posters everywhere, politicians all over the t.v and puns all over the internet. Mark Garnier, the local Tory candidate, knocked on our door yesterday. He was lovely... Bastard. I am not naive. I know the chances of us actually winning are not that great, but they exist. In the meantime, the pace picks up and the stakes are continuing to rise.

I wonder what it is that determines everyone's place on the political scale. I think parentage has a lot to do with it, whether complying with your parents' views, or dashing their hopes in a deliberate rebellion. My mother is pretty left wing. She would probably disown me if I voted Conservative, but I like to think I would be around the same point on the spectrum with or without her influence. I'm in the classic ' idealistic, lefty student' phase. I very much hope this will never end. After all, I intend to be a student forever and ever. I will do my degree, then go travelling, then do an MA, then go travelling, then do a PhD in something useless with imaginary funds. I will then marry a penniless writer and live in an oh-so-bohemian squat in Paris during which, I will surely continue in my lefty ways. See, I've got it all mapped out...

I have decided to go to Nottingham, with Warwick as my second choice because it's a slightly lower offer. This is a slightly odd decision. This means Spanish not Italian as my second language, which will obviously be more useful (as hoards of people have told me). Not that any of this matters. I WILL be going through clearing unless I get my arse in gear. Oh the joys of uncertainty...

They make REALLY big jars of Nutella. Mind. Blown.

Also, the Juno soundtrack is probably my favourite album. Buy it. It rocks my socks...

Chickpeas and Wayne Sleep...

I've always loved writing. When I was a little girl, I would spend hours creating elaborate beginnings to stories I would never finish (I'm no novelist) and create heroines who were, without exception, cooler versions of myself; everything I wanted to be. As I grew up a bit, the stories became love stories and as I turned older still and read more bitter, feminist literature, the twee fairytales became cynical tales of heartbreak, almost always without the happy ending I had previously craved. In between these stages came essay writing, an obsession with Les Miserables and a dabble in the twisted world of Fanfiction. I am aware that this confession earns me no cool points.

So this is where I find myself. Eighteen and, in the immortal words of A-ha, slowly learning that life is okay. This last year has been a tough one and I'm sure I have changed beyond recognition, but there is no point dwelling on the past and letting it mar the future. Something somebody said to me earlier made me realise that I have it all going for me. I've got in to some of the best universities in the world and rarely feel out of my depth in conversation. Sod the little stuff. I've realised that happiness isn't something we just stumble upon, it's a frame of mind. I'm not saying that from now on I will be miraculously happy, but it's time to stop being so miserable and move on with my life.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm listening to the Cabaret soundtrack. I went to see it a couple of months ago with my friend Robyn and her friend Lee in Malvern, not having seen it before. The songs are brilliant and though I think its main competition in the dark Nazi undertones, The Sound Of Music, may trump it in terms of classic status, Cabaret seemed to tick all of the right boxes and I enjoyed it immensely. Sally Bowles was played by the understudy who put on a very strong performance; consistently very easy to watch, with a brilliant speaking voice. The male lead was magnetic and charismatic (by this, of course I mean he was HOT). The second half as a whole was slightly patchy in terms of storyline and showstoppers, but I left feeling that I had had a very good night, enhanced by the fact that my ticket was a mere £8 due to the scheme to get young people into the theatre (I intend to take advantage of this again with The History Boys and La Traviata later this year).

Finally, giving up meat is turning out to be a doddle, though my house is chickpea central. I think this could be the beginning of a healthier me, mostly due to the fact that they simply do not make any decent vegetarian ready meals.

rugby and rib-ache...

So it's half term. At last. And spring seems to be on the way (by which I mean there are some daffodils on the fireplace...) I had an ace weekend drinking far too much in Leamington Spa with the smelly big sister and her friends who are all pretty cool... I ended up watching all of the Six Nations rugby matches with many twenty-something boys who know much more than I do about the sport. The undeserved (though not unwelcome) Wales victory secured my good mood for the next few days. We also saw West Side Story at Warwick University which was really very good, though made me feel fat and very English and unskilled. But that's fairly commonplace...

I'm giving up meat tomorrow for Lent. I am determined to actually do it and will not relent. Not even when presented with a massive big steak and chips... wait, I'm salivating... I should be fine. I don't mind quorn mince and I'm always fond of good old lentil-based cuisine. I made really rather yummy Dahl the other day, following the recipe of an Indian friend. It was completely brilliant and I intend to make it a regular dish.

I'm supposed to be visiting Cardiff University tomorrow with my friend Rosie, but I have no idea whether or not she's expecting me. I don't have her number and her parents won't allow her to have Facebook (she is forced to spend the time more productively by doing work and suchlike things. I will never understand this). So I can't get in touch with her and I imagine this could cause a bit of tension when I do see her this week. Her parents already hate me. I ooze student lefty idealism and they are really rather Tory. I will have to rectify this. (The dislike, not the political stance. I am just one girl)

I went shopping in Birmingham yesterday and successfully squandered an impressive amount of money. I say squandered. I found a lovely high-waisted black skirt and a scarf in Zara, my new favourite shop. I find shopping cathartic, completely brilliant. In that respect, I am really rather girly.

My ribs hurt. Time for the doctors?