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...

hard graft...

If I ever get my arse in gear and actually do some work, I will go to university. While there, the matter of careers is bound to cross my mind, so I'm prematurely giving it some thought. There are several problems with entering the 'job world'. Firstly, I am very lazy and don't actually ever want a proper job, but I am aware that this aspiration is pretty unrealistic and one day I will have to do more to earn the food on my plate.

Having worked in Morrisons, I am no stranger to hard work. Dishing up suspect looking meat, clearing up vomit, cutting and burning and bruising myself all over the place, cleaning fish juice out of bins, being polite to impossible customers, cleaning some sort of bright pink bacteria off the dishwasher, chopping, probing, sweeping, mopping, wiping, smiling... the list is pretty much endless. Of course, there were some things that made it possible to bear it for such a long time. Some of the staff were awesome. I'm trying to think of something else but it's just not happening. Suffice to say that it wasn't all bad!

Anyway, I've been thinking about it, and I reckon there are a limited number of jobs I could do and actually be satisfied. My friend Charlotte and I always say that our greatest fear is mediocrity, but I don't think I'd mind being mediocre at a job I actually found rewarding. Unfortunately, I am not easily pleased, so here is the (somewhat limited and delusional) list of jobs I would really like to try:

• Journalism - I've always said it and will probably never quite give up on the idea. I think if I could somehow find the money to do a post-graduate diploma in journalism, I might not be all that bad. Even if I just worked for a local paper writing about jet-skiing budgies or primary school fetes, I would think that there are worse jobs.
• Translation - Is lovely. As I plan to become fluent in a couple more languages before my degree is through, I should be at least a bit desirable. It's possible that once more I would have to do a masters in translation, but this wouldn't be the end of the world. I'd get to travel and I really do rather enjoy working in foreign languages so this is a definite possibility.
• Teaching - Now don't get me wrong, I don't want to teach as such, but it's hardly the worst option. I think teaching in a sixth form college would be ace, and I'd be quite content teaching French to others, I think. Maybe...
• Politics - I love politics and I am fairly sure that my allegiance to the Labour Party will never falter. I am a realist. I know that politics is stressful and unforgiving, but I'm pretty sure I could hack it. I could be the next Harriet Harmon. Okay, maybe I'm not that much of a realist after all...
• Writer - Of books. At a push, I am probably articulate and imaginative enough to write the kind of lame beach reads we know and love. I am not arrogant enough to think I will ever have the substance to write with critical acclaim or great success. Surely though, the life of a penniless writer is much more appealing than number crunching and office parties?
• Waster - I shall do my degree, then I will do a masters, then a PhD, then I will travel, then I will do a bit of tutoring, then I will travel some more, never really getting a proper job but working when I can simply no longer afford food and a bed. This is one of the most appealing options...

I have run out. I will never be successful in life, simply because I never want to sit in an office all day long, drinking espressos and bitching about 'Tracy from personnel'. Money will never motivate me and I am doomed to live in squalor for all eternity. Splendid.

Tory glory...

Have you ever seen Oliver and Company? The film is lame, but when I saw this, I couldn't help but think that this dog is a bit like the streetwise main character (also a dog. This could explain the resemblance). The thought of a politically active, thrill-seeking dog is strangely comforting on this day of mourning and general woe.

So we are effectively without government. It's quite exciting, though it was a disappointing night for everybody really. Of course I stayed up all night so I'm well and truly shattered today. I'm also dealing with the realisation that I now live in a Tory constituency. The West Midlands itself is almost entirely blue, with the important exception of Birmingham. It's places like Halesowen and Dudley which are the real surprises. I can think of nowhere more working class, so it seems odd that the majority voted Conservative. I can't really imagine that their community will thrive under right-wing rule, but maybe it's time for someone else to be under constant public scrutiny for a change.

One good thing has come out of this election, however. I have discovered that I really quite fancy David Milliband. My crushes seem to be becoming more and more middle aged and
demure. In my opinion this is no bad thing, though I'm sure there are a few psychologists in the world who would disagree...

"Ah elle aime bien ça les stratagèmes! En fait, elle est un peu lâche. Je crois que c'est pour ça que j'ai du mal à saisir son regard"

Yesterday, after the exam from hell, I retreated to my home from home (the little room in Languages. It has a kettle and a microwave and some French magazines. As a result I probably spend more time in there than I do sleeping. It's a sorry state of affairs...). I was so annoyed with myself for being rubbish that I did the unthinkable. That's right, my friends, I rang my mother. She answered the phone and I croaked pathetically at her because this damn cold isn't going anywhere. I told her about my woes and she said the one thing I didn't want to hear; "Well I think you should be doing English anyway...". Since that moment, I can't stop thinking about my choices. On top of it all, I'm not even sure I want to go to university at all!

I'm not sure whether what I'm feeling right now is actual hatred of the French subject or whether I'm just being my typical, indecisive self. Let's see, shall we?

Rubbish things about French:

• Speaking - The exams are stressful and in my opinion, 20 short minutes cannot give an accurate representation of the student's prowess as a whole. Also, have you ever spoken French to a French person? It's really not all that good for one's ego...
  
• Literature - We are studying Maupassant. He doesn't like war. He uses nice language. He fights for the French people. I should love his work, but actually it's a load of long-winded, overdescriptive, hippie drivel. In French.
  
• France isn't all that great, is it? Okay, the south is gorgeous and sunny, but have you ever been to Calais? The Alps are cold, Normandy is grim, and Paris is full of tramps.
  
• Grammar - Trawling through textbooks doing question after question is not how I like to spend my evenings.
• Teachers - well one teacher actually. The less said, the less trouble I can get in.
  

Things that make me love French:

• Translation - Yum, yum, yum...
• Literature - Despite my indifference to Maupassant, the French brought us Les Misérables, The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Beauty and the Beast. Now, I have never exactly read any of these but the songs sure are catchy...
• France - Paris, Nice, Paris. Actually, I can't pretend any longer, I love France. It has Kristin Scott-Thomas, and Marion cotillard, and Carla Bruni. It has PARIS; the Pompidou centre, Amélie's café and Le Marais.
• Grammar - It's like algebra but with words!
• Teachers - The other two French teachers are nothing less than lovely and they took us to the Med, which was quite nice really...

So in conclusion, I both love and hate French in equal measure. Maybe this is what true passion for something is? Loving it so much that you really can't stand it. Maybe I really should do English. If I made a list for English, I'm pretty sure there would only be one point in the 'cons' column; my teacher has given us NINE hours of private study to be completed this week. Insane...

I just voted and intend to stay up tonight for as long as possible. It's very cloudy, perhaps this is pathetic fallacy?

Lost in Coventry...

Today has been terrible. I completely messed up my French exam and as a result I have been in a foul mood all day. Yes, I know you thought I was delightful all the time, and that I live my life with all the grace and charm of a unicorn, but I'm afraid I must disappoint. Today I have all the grace and charm of a sloth. An old sloth. In pyjamas.

I had a complete panic on Monday night with the realisation that my history coursework was due in the next day, not today as I had been convinced. This resulted in a distinct lack of sleep on Monday night. Propped up with Lemsip and caffeine, I managed to make the deadline. I spent the weekend with my smelly big sister in Leamington. My mum and I went for a meal with her and we made a quick visit to Coventry Cathedral which was lovely. Luckily I didn't stay with Helen on Monday night as I had intended. I really would have been in quite a lot of poo...

Tonight I'm celebrating the fact that all my coursework has been handed in and I don't have any more exams for forty eight days. As a result, I'm going to watch Lost In Translation which always calms me down (particularly when, like today, mean, bullying men make me feel about as big as a flea). It's just so good! I love Scarlett Johansson at the best of times, but in this, she is just wonderful, Bill Murray is a definite old man crush and some of the locations are just ace... It seems that in most of my favourite films, nothing really happens, and this is no exception. Right, I'm watching it!

Also, if you get the time, listen to Antony and the Johnsons. They have a really unique, lovely sound. 'Hope there's Someone' is gorgeous and my favourite song at the moment...

grinning bobcat...

When I was little, I thought Pocahontas was the greatest film ever. I used lipstick as war paint in a bid to look a little bit like a native American. I sang the songs all the time. I played the video at least twice a week, much to my sister's disgust. Best of all, I was convinced that the climactic song 'Savages' was in fact a roaring chorus about... sandwiches. I hang my head in shame.

In my opinion, the greatest Disney film is The Rescuers. Its value is greatly under appreciated, but its appeal is vast. Honestly, it has everything! Firstly, it is terrifying. The nice, little orphan Penny is kidnapped by some scary people and has to make the hazardous trek down a mine to find a diamond or she will be eaten by some alligators (Sort of. I haven't seen it for a while...). Luckily she is rescued by some adventurous mice and finds a home, living happily after. Then there's the second film. Not quite as good, but certainly not to be dismissed. The villain looks just like a Kidderminster cabbie. This once led to a terrifying journey home from Morrisons...


The Lion King and Beauty and the Beast are obviously classic. Snow White is annoying, The Hunchback of Notre Dame is full of brilliant songs and a satiric juxtaposition of religion and sex, and Mulan has to be the most aesthetically pleasing film in existence...


I hate to sound like a grandmother, but they really just don't make them like they used to, do they? Watch a Disney film now and there are no spontaneous songs or soundtracks written by such national treasures as Elton John and Phil Collins. The humour is more laboured and much less subtle. And just as a parting comment, if you are lacking in things to do this rainy bank holiday weekend, watch the Jungle Book. It is obscenely brilliant. I swear I never appreciated it when I was a kid. Unlike Pocahontas...

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...