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.

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*

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’

Wow, I fail at updating this.

I couldn’t be bothered to do a video blog, so I thought I’d just post here to let you know (whoever ‘you’ may be) that I’m still alive. And I seem to be properly busy lately, which is exciting. What with revision, people’s birthdays (how did I manage to make friends with 3 people who have birthdays within a week and a half of each other?), bullying my flatmate Mark with my other flatmate Sophie, going to the library to not revise, and watching inappropriately air-heady TV shows (examples: Gossip Girl, Greek) I seem to be spending my time in a semi-productive manner. Yey for me!

I’ll get around to doing a video blog again sometime soon. Honestly promisely.

After being home for only 3 days, I’m off to Florida tomorrow for 2 weeks. We’re flying into Tampa, staying around Clearwater for a few days then driving up to Kissimmee for a 10 day stay in a villa. I have a feeling I’ll be spending quite a bit of that time writing postcards and searching for presents! I’m just too nice for my own good sometimes. Well …

My mother’s paid to have the pool heated for the whole time we’re there, which is excellent. Busy/hot day? Yes, I think I will go for a swim to relax/cool down, why thank you.
I’d bought a swimsuit and bikini when I was in Brighton, but I managed to leave them in my room at uni (come on, it’s not an obvious thing to remember), so yesterday my mother and I had to dash down to Tesco to get me some swimwear (since there was no way I was wearing the too small faded tankini I’ve had for at least 3 years). There was a good selection, so success was had.

Now to hope it’s warm and sunny while we’re there! *crosses fingers*

We have somewhere to live next year! This is excellent news indeed. Although the house isn’t ready at the moment, by the time we move in it’ll be all fully refirbished and will be all shiny and amazing and like something out of an Ikea catalogue. Say no to shitty student housing!

After the landlords told us yesterday that they were going to be sending out the tenancy agreement that evening, and it was whichever group (out of 3 interested parties) got it back first that got the house, me, Sphie and Mark got back from the house viewing and sat in the kitchen, half playing Monopoly, half listening out for the email alert sound. After 2 false alarms (causing the three of us to almost break our necks running out of the kitchen down the hall to Mark’s room), it finally arrived. Mark printed it, then the 3 of us signed it. Daniel came over and he signed it too, then Mark ran across to Lewes Court Phase 2 to get Ben to sign it, while me, Sphie and Daniel walked after him. We left Daniel to go to the dryness of his flat, and made our way back through the blinding rain (and no, I’m not even exaggerating - we couldn’t actually see where we were going at one point).

Unfortunately, due to the rain, by the time Mark got back to Stanmer, all of the ink had run on the agreement. So we had to print another copy and, since we were already completely soaked through, the three of us traipsed back across to Lewes Court. This time the agreement was safely stored in a plastic folder, which was wrapped in two plastic bags.
When we got back, Mark scanned the signed agreement into his laptop and then went to send it. Should have been simple, right? It wasn’t. The file was too big, and kept crashing Mark’s laptop.
Sphie and I eventually went to bed, but Mark managed to email it to the landlords at quarter to 3 in the morning. And it’s a good job he did, because when Sphie rang up this morning, another group had rung to say they wanted the house. But because we’d already shown that we’d signed the agreement we got the house!

Sphie and Mark went and handed in part of our deposits today, so YES! It’s ours!

Now comes the fun part of who gets what bedroom …

Okay, I’ve apparently not updated this for quite a while. Mainly because I’ve had nothing to say. Therefore I am announcing a change of pace to this blog!

Instead of my random pointless posts, I’m going to attempt to update this on a more regular basis with life-related things instead of sheer randomness. How that’ll work out remains to be seen.

This morning I finally did something with the Walking Society (so, over 10 weeks after making my New Year’s Resolution to join it, I got there. Better late than never, I suppose). Kate and I joined them for an Easter Egg Hunt. We had to follow ribbons that were tied up on various things (trees, lamposts etc), up the path at the side of Brighthelm, along a country road, across some fields, onto another path and then finally down into Stanmer Village. There was a tree in the church graveyard that had been filled with lots of chocolate.

Considering we only had to pay £1 to go, I got an excellent (or egg-cellent … but I won’t go there) amount of chocolate; an actual Easter Egg, 4 Creme Eggs and a tube of Smarties. Plus I got out in the fresh air and did the most exercise I’ve done since … actually, since Friday when I managed to strain almost every muscle in my upper body EyeToying with Emma and James. But yes, fresh air and chocolate. I approve.

I also need to stop saying ‘I approve’ to everything. It makes me sound like an idiot.

Apparently I like posting on a Monday.

Anyway. I’m very grateful to my body clock today. It woke me up at 9am, so I had time to get up, have breakfast and get to my 10am lecture (I usually set my alarm for 15 minutes before I need to get up because I need a little time to ‘come to’. I’m not one of those people who can just leap out of bed, as I may have mentioned previously).

Why didn’t I set my alarm? Good question. As a matter of fact, I did. But when my body clock woke me up, there was no evidence that I’d set my alarm. Or, indeed, that I had a clock in my room. Yes ladies and gentlemen, power cuts are back in Stanmer Court. Or at least they were for almost an hour this morning. Let’s hope this isn’t a recurring theme again.

It’s a shame my lecture wasn’t at 9am, though. “My alarm didn’t go off because there was a power cut” is a pretty good excuse for missing a lecture, don’t you think?

In other news, my mobile phone has no signal. I usually have at least 1 bar of signal, often more. But for whatever reason, today I have no signal. Anywhere. I’ve tried turning the phone on and off, in the hope that it’ll be kicked into action to find some network coverage, but no such luck. So let’s hope no one important (or even unimportant, just anyone in general) is trying to contact me, because they won’t get through.

ETA: Sphie and Mark have no signal either. So O2 appears to be screwing up.
I can get 1 bar of signal if I leave my phone on my windowsill, but it goes as soon as I take it off. Fun times.