Highlighter Stars.

Last night I was at home by myself, watching Sex and the City (is this now going to be a recurring theme in my blog entries? I’m not sure) and eating toast (I’ve no idea why, but I had a massive craving for toast. I didn’t have any bread left, either, so had to resort to stealing a slice from a housemate), when it occurred to me that I was being a horribly stereotypical single girl – you know, home alone on a Saturday night, watching something girly, and eating. Yet somehow I didn’t care. I kind of liked it, in a way.

Not that I was home alone for that long anyway – Ben went out to meet a friend and it was only about an hour after that that Daniel returned home from campus. But still. It was long enough for me to feel that the stereotype had been perpetuated.

Except … had it? Isn’t the stereotype more of a woman in her late twenties to mid thirties than a girl who’s in her final year of being a teenager? And a woman who lives alone, at that? In which case, I failed at falling into the stereotype. And in any case, it’s acceptable for a student to not go out on a Saturday night, because Saturday nights are far more expensive that week nights*.

Besides, I enjoyed being in the house by myself because it meant that I got the TV to myself without someone attempting to change the channel or wanting to play on the PS2. So, stereotype or no stereotype, I had a good evening.

*Speaking of expense, my student loan came through today. Hooray!

I’m currently suffering from a cold, much to my annoyance. I hate colds with a passion. As do most people, I suppose. Usually the only redeeming feature about having a cold is being able to curl up on the sofa all day and watch trashy television, while being snuggled under a blanket. But due to the lack of sofas in our house in Brighton, I’ve had to sit on a garden chair. Yes, a garden chair. Not the height of comfort or style, I’m sure you’ll agree, but it’s all we’ve got so I had to deal with it.

All that, however, is besides the point. The point is that I watched 2 episodes of Sex and the City this evening. I’d never seen it before I returned to Brighton, and have now seen 5 or 6 episodes. I quite like it, in a mind-numbing trashy chick TV sort of way. But I think that’s all it’s meant to be, so it’s okay.

The episode that I just watched featured Carrie and Mr Big having an argument about Big going to Paris, and then Big turning up at Carrie’s door later that evening and sweeping her off to the bedroom to ‘make love’ (her words, not mine). Does this happen in real life? I’ve pondered this before, after I read Forever in Blue, the last in Ann Brashare’s Travelling Pants series of books. Unfortunately, I can’t remember what happened to make me ponder this back then, but I think it had something to do with Lena and Kostos, and the fact that they both happened to turn up at their secret meeting place in the middle of the night. It all seems so romantic and wonderful, yet also highly improbable. I’ve never met a male that I think would do such a thing. Although maybe the idea is that the most unlikely person would do it, and therefore you’d be even more swept off your feet. I’m not sure.

I do confess to once driving to someone’s (yes, that someone was male) house in the middle of the night in order to talk out an argument with them, since arguing with them via MSN was making matters worse. I’d like to say that my act of sheer dramatic-ness solved all our problems, but it didn’t. Maybe it did for that evening, but it didn’t solve anything in the long term. Besides, I didn’t go to be romantic. I went because I was pissed off. I’m not sure that’s how this whole ‘turning up on the doorstep/at the same place’ thing works.

Being quite stereotypically girly when it comes to matters of romance (though only some matters, and I hate to admit even that much, so I suppose I can’t be too bad about it), I love the idea of someone realising that they love me and turning up on my doorstep to confess their love to me. Or even just to have sex with me, I’m not that choosy. But will it ever happen to me? Are the people who write these things in fiction basing them on real life, or what they’d like to have happen in their real life? Surely it must have happened to someone, somewhere, at some point in the history of the world? And if that is the case, what’s to stop it happening to me one day?

So, love of my life, if you’re out there and reading this, feel free to come and knock on my door. I’ll be waiting for you.

Yup, I’m back in Brighton. I’m so glad to be back. I really quite like this whole living-in-Brighton-but-not-having-to-go-to-university thing.

I recorded this yesterday, but forgot to post it here. Silly me!

When I was in Canda, I bought a fife, and attempted to learn to play Yankee Doodle on it. I managed to get “Yankee doodle went to town, riding on a po - “, but that’s as far as I got. I didn’t practise for ages, and have now completely lost the ability to make a decent sound come out of the thing, Goddamnit. So I’m taking it back to Brighton with me and shall annoy my housemates with my attempts to play. Excellent.

Also, I’m confused about this whole ‘the world’s going to end’ thing. Should the world have ended by now, if it was going to end? Or are we safe? Because I’m having my hair cut this afternoon and if the world really is going to end, I’d like it to be after I’ve had my hair cut, so at least my life will have ended with my having tidy hair.
Of course, the world NOT ending is preferable. I quite want to carry on living, kthanx.

While I was in Disneyland Paris this week, I observed that there were LOADS of couples around. Seriously, they were everywhere. And they reinforced what I’ve pretty much always known … I hate public displays of affection (or PDAs, if you’re getting acronym-y).

When I was little, and my parents would hold hands, I used to get so upset about it that they had to stop. That’s not really normal for a child, is it? I’ve no idea why I got so upset about it. Maybe I was selfish and wanted them to be holding my hand instead, I’m not sure.  But seeing them showing any affection for each other always freaked me out.

I’m not as bad any more, obviously, but I still have to divert my eyes away if I see couples kissing in public. There’s something about it that makes me feel uncomfortable. It’s as if I’m innocently looking around and have intruded upon this really private moment. I just don’t understand how they can be so fine with kissing someone else, while they’re in a middle of a crowd of people, any number of whom could be watching them.

Now, if they’re happy, I’m happy for them. But there’s some things that I don’t care to see. Holding hands is fine. A peck on the lips is fine, too, I suppose (as long as it’s not in the middle of the queue for a ride, because really, keep your eye on the queue and keep moving!), but seriously, no one wants to see you shove your tongue down your significant other’s throat. We really don’t.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, no, I don’t like being one of the two PDA-ing any more than I like seeing people PDA-ing. I have actually run away from someone trying to kiss me in public. Which probably made the situation worse, but still …

In other news … I’m going back to Brighton on Friday! *does a little dance*

Apparently, Aaron Sorkin is going to be writing a film about Facebook and its founders.

Aaron Sorkin, for the horribly ignorant, is the creator of The West Wing (and Sports Night, and Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. But no one’s heard of the former and the latter flopped spectacularly). He is a genius, and I’m a bit in love with him.

I’m not quite sure how interesting a film about Facebook could actually BE, but whatevz. Aaron Sorkin’s writing it, so it’s going to be full of quick-fire dialogue and - hopefully - people talking while walking. Excellent.

More info (from BBC News)
Facebook group

While my mother and I were National Trust property visiting the other day, we saw a Victoria (does that need a capital V? Idk) sponge in a tea room at one of them, and my mother became slightly obsessed with having one. So today, I made a Victoria sponge. It’s still cooling, though, so I’ve no clue whether it turned out to be any good. Which kind of makes this story somewhat pointless.

I want a new layout for this journal. Even though the header of this one’s pretty, I don’t really like the entry format.

… okay, so, remember this post? Well, another coincedence just occurred. There I was, typing about how I want a new journal for this layout, and generally doing a post, which isn’t something I do all that often. And then Daniel starts speaking to me on MSN about this very blog. How strange.

Though, to quote Gibbs (from NCIS. Seriously guys, watch more TV); “I don’t believe in coincedences.”
Actually, I do, but it was a good excuse to quote Gibbs, and one should never turn down the opportunity to quote Gibbs.

I’m rambling. I’ll shut up now.

Wait, no, one more thing: I’ve just listened to Panic at the Disco’s second album, and hi, WHAT? They take out the ! from their name and suddenly they’re all serious and have a folk sounding song? What’s going on with the world?

Okay, I’m shutting up now. I have to go and convince my mother that sweetcorn is better than baked beans.

Wow, 2 entries in the space of less than a week. Whatever is the world coming to?!

I have some new wellies! This is exciting. I like wellies.

Also, I realise I don’t specify to what I’m getting the keys to; my student house in Brighton. Just in case it wasn’t obvious.

I quite want to do a video blog entry, but there’s about 5 people in my house right now (builders/plasterers/electricians), so I’m not going to.
Instead, I’m going to do a quiz thingy.

(oh, and that’s another thing that sucks about WordPress - I have no idea how to change the text for the cut link. Or how to close the cut to write something else after it)

Continue reading ‘Bolding.rgb’