25 February 2006

Last Night

My voice is hoarse, my arms are covered in small cigarette burn blisters, my feet are bruised, my top is still soaked with sweat, and my boots are ruined. Generally those are signs of a good night, and I think I did have a good night. Not an amazing night, but good enough.

Babyshambles at la Barrowlands... by 10:45pm I was expecting a 'Pete's not here'-type announcement closely followed by uncontrollable riots, but thankfully they didn't (completely) disappoint and the booing and 'Get out here you fucking junkie bastard' cries stopped when they appeared on stage in a last minute 'must live up to our rockstar reputation' rush. I thought they played a good set, which lasted over an hour, although it was let down by Pete looking like he'd rather be asleep somewhere than on stage. I guess he can't be expected to be all happy happy joy joy at the moment, but I was disappointed that he looked so sad slash drunk slash ???, and he didn't talk to the crowd at all (except to mumble an apology and make one attempt to stop his fans being crushed to death against the barrier). They played Time for Heroes though, which made my night, day, week, and month. The crowd were, for the most part, a bunch of inconsiderate Sun-reading Fuck-Forever-singing drugs-related-insult-shouting wankers. But apart from that, I had fun.

I went home stinking of beer with sweat induced frizziness of the hair and I've been hungover all day. Yeah, it was definitely a good night, then.

22 February 2006

Week One

I lost 4lbs this week. I don't think I've ever tried to lose weight and actually done it. Or at least I haven't known about it, because I never weigh myself. So I'm very proud of myself. See, you can lose weight and still eat Tim Tams - I knew it.

My food diary is helping very much, as is my new job thing where I have to scan the barcode of all the snacks I eat for some company to analyse. It has ended the possibility of secret snacking, which is good. The food diary helps because it reduces everything down to mathematics, it seems so logical and makes sense. It also helps to really know what I'm eating, and to have to think about it. It does seem a bit obsessive to me, keeping track of everything I eat, but it's not really. It's sensible to be more aware of what's in your food when you're a chocoholic like moi.

I can't decide whether to go swimming today or not...I really should but my period just started and you know. Bleugh. Also I think I'm getting a sore throat, caused by swallowing too much chlorine. I really must preserve my throat so I can sing along to Babyshambles on Friday night. Actually thinking about it, I should lose another 4lbs from all the jumping and dancing I'll be doing on Friday, so maybe I can have a day off from exercise.

18 February 2006

Ooh La La La La La

The losing weight thing isn't going as badly as it normally does. Weight Loss Resources is helping, definitely. I've went slightly over my calorie allowance a couple of days but then my allowance is set for a moderately sedentary lifestyle which is true sometimes but I vary a lot between being reasonably active and then spending whole days lying in bed. On Thursday I was 800 calories under, which is good, but yesterday I went about 3 million over. Apparently (although I have no idea who decided this) my target alcohol consumption is zero. This is never going to happen. Yesterday alcohol calories made up 42% of my total daily calories. Chips made up most of the rest. I don't think this is good, but I had a good night so fuck it.

I did a lot of walking yesterday so that would've helped. I was mystery shopping all morning, going around town asking ridiculous questions about car tax and hair dyes and eating fast food every half an hour (not eating - just tasting). I got lots of free stuff. 30 first class stamps, shower gel, nail varnish remover, a hair brush, face wipes and my favourite (up there with the top free things from my entire mystery shopping career), a tres expensive moisturiser. I bought moisturiser last week that cost 99p from Boots. This one cost £26 and the woman said it would fix everything that is wrong with my life, starting with the dry skin on my nose.

14 February 2006

Roses Are Red

Choose Not To Kid Yourself.

Now I have been faced with the hard cold facts in a printed slip of paper, I am choosing to do something about it. I've signed up for Weight Loss Resources (again) and according to their calculations, if I lose 2lbs a week I will be at my target weight (as decided by the weighing machine) by 7/7/06. Woohoo.

To do this I will:

1. Keep up the Swim Plan
2. Walk more
3. Stop eating so much chocolate and other crap
4. Only drink water (and alcohol. Obviously.)

I do this all the time and it never works but really, I just feel so badly that I need to do something about this right now. I have been unhappy with my weight for years but I've never thought of myself as 'fat', I'm just a bit overweight. But really, seeing the figures...Jesus, 3 stone is too much. I've always thought I 'need to lose a few pounds' but it's a few stone for fuck's sake. I hate being overweight. I do feel like it's affected so much of my life and now is the time to stop it before I end up obese and hating myself even more. So - 7th July 2006 will be my day. I'm looking forward to it.

Day Two

I stepped onto the scales while I waited for my sister to pick me up at the pool today and apparently I need to lose 3 stone. Dear. Lord. God.

Perhaps my plan needs to be a bit more complicated than simply the Swim Plan. Maybe I should stop eating so many Tim Tams, for starters. I can't actually believe I need to lose that much weight. I have to do it now though. I will do it now. Day 2 of the Swim Plan went well. I really wish I hadn't started this during half term because I was almost responsible for the drowning of about 25 kids today. If one more of them had got in my way one more time I would've done it. I had to swim across the pool instead of lengths because the splashing screaming children were too much of a hazard every time I went near the shallow end.

I hate half term.

13 February 2006

I'm Back

OK. Now that the whole dissertation situation is ancient history, it is time to Take Control Of My Life.

Currently, that centres around the Swim Plan. Three days a week, minimum, but aiming for four. Obviously avoiding weekends and any time there might be children in the pool :shudder:. It's going well so far but considering this is Day One it's maybe too early to congratulate myself. Tomorrow I'm going to get a discount card, and I will keep this up. Definitely. As long as I work out what time to visit to avoid the unofficial OAP hour and find something to mask the smell of chlorine, as evidently Original Source shower gel isn't up to the job...

It's definitely a good thing I have a new keep fit regime since today also marked my return to the world of work. I've applied for a few (OK, one) call centre jobs so I don't have a proper job yet, but my legs are aching from mystery shopping (and possibly from the swimming) all afternoon. And sadly mystery shopping means eating burgers. I had two burgers for lunch, and then a burger for an afternoon snack. To ensure a balanced diet, I followed them up with a pizza for dinner. I only pretend to eat the burgers, but still, I do have to take a couple of bits of each, and then there's a few chips and the Coke... Yuck. And I did eat 2 slices of the pizza. So the swimming is definitely an essential lifestyle change. Hopefully I also burned some calories by wandering around town between jobs. I had a few non-fast food mystery shops today too so it wasn't all fatness. I made £51 in total. Woopee.

11 February 2006

I Survived

Well, I handed my dissertation in. On time! With about 15 minutes to spare.

I will never do anything like that again. I don't have it in me. There's nothing I'm interested enough in to go through that again for. Nothing that I've found so far, anyway. I don't know how people write things like that, things much bigger than that, through choice. It was nothing compared to papers I'm sure people have to write for postgrad courses and things but to me it was nearly impossible. I couldn't even be arsed reading it through before I handed it in. I got a copy bound for myself, because I am proud of myself for having written it, and I've already noticed about 4 different sentences with extra words in them that don't completely make sense. Oh well. I'm thinking 2:2, which is alright (ish) by me. I can't get over the fact that it's finished, done, bound and handed in. I've done it, and I'm so pleased. I actually believe now that I'm going to have an honours degree this summer. I don't think I'm going to fuck up any more. It's such a weight off my shoulders.

I love it after exams are over or I've just handed an essay in and I'm sitting watching TV, and I have that guilty feeling deep down in my stomach until I remind myself that I can watch TV for as long as I want. I woke up this morning and panicked because I didn't know what time it was, and then I realised that it doesn't matter what time it is. The same happened last night when I was watching Love Actually in bed and I realised it was 1:30am and I was like 'Oh my god I should be ASLEEP!' but then I remembered it didn't matter. I sat in a cafe yesterday for 2 hours trying to take as long as possible to eat my lentil soup and macaroni comfort food, reading Cosmo, waiting for my dissertation to be ready at the printing and binding place, and it just felt fantastic to be able to do something other than my dissertation without feeling guilty. Although I would've so much rather have been at home in bed, but anything's better than the library. My legs were swollen all last week from so long sitting at the same fucking computer for days on end in that place. I've probably got a blood clot.

Although, having said all that, classes start back on Monday. And I'll need to get a job now that I no longer have my dissertation as an excuse. On the plus side, I've managed to tidy my room, do some washing, and I finally feel like having sex again. Yipee.

08 February 2006

Destroyed

I've cried myself to sleep the last couple of nights. I've developed a habit of pushing my tongue really hard against the top of my mouth and kind of sucking on nothing. It's giving my headaches, every day. I have spots, several spots in fact, and I've never had spots in my life. My nails are picked away to nothing. I still can't sleep without a Nytol. I haven't had time to do any washing or do my makeup properly in the morning or do anything, for so long. I feel guilty when I take a lunch break. I should be back in front of the computer. I'm attributing all of the above to stress. Dissertation stress. I never thought it would be this difficult, this all consuming, this big a deal. I can't wait until Friday when (hopefully) it's all over, bound and handed in.

I'm going to lie in bed for the entire weekend watching DVDs. And for the first time in about 5 months, I won't have to feel guilty while I'm doing it.

04 February 2006

Five-Oh

3/2/1956

10:20am

'Hello?'

'Hello Mr I. Congratulations, you have a baby daughter'

'Thank you'

10:30am

'Hello?'

'Hello Mr I. Congratulations, you have a baby daughter'

'I know, you've already phoned me'

'No, you have another daughter'

'Thank you. Now don't phone me again'

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Happy birthday mum and Aunt A!

02 February 2006

Plans: Take 2

So now I'm thinking...

Fly to Chicago. Hang out for a week-ish. Bus it to New York. Stop off in...Ohio, maybe? to break up the journey. Couple of nights in NY, get the bus to Boston, stick around for as long as L will let me, possibly Toronto after that? I like Toronto. Then...fly...maybe via Chicago again for another visit. So, fly home? Or fly to Rome? I've had a problem recently about not having visited enough countries in Europe. I was thinking, fly to Rome and get the train back home? Via Monaco, Switzerland, Austria, Prague, Germany, Amsterdam and Brussels? Maybe France.

Hmm. This isn't going to be the city break I originally thought it would be.

01 February 2006

Drowning

I think I should've asked for help with this dissertation. It's too late now, but I was struggling for months and I knew it and I did nothing. I'm not so good at asking for help. I'd usually rather stay quiet and forget about the problem. I'd rather do it myself.

I went snorkelling in Australia at the Great Barrier Reef on the windiest day imagineable. The crew on the boat regretted not cancelling the trip as soon as we left, I could tell. They were all full of 'this is the windiest day I've ever seen' claims. The trip out was so rocky people were being sick everywhere (luckily I'd taken my tablets) and I fell over while trying to remove a tampon in the toilet. Eventually they stopped near this tiny island (their word, not mine. I'd say it's less of an island and more of a freak sand castle) in the middle of the ocean and took us out there in a dinghy (we couldn't go in the glass bottomed boat because the waves would smash the glass - I was pissed off). I regretted it instantly. The sand against my face (and I could even feel it through my wetsuit) stripped off the top layer of my skin. A small child who had previously been excitedly telling anyone who'd listen that she was going to find Nemo screamed hysterically from the pain of one million tiny particles of sand being blasted against her, and her mum had to shield her with her own body. We could hardly hear each other speak because the wind was so loud. 'Don't go any further out than mufflemufflemuffle. That's very important. OK!?'.

The currents were really strong but there were no fish so we kept swimming a little bit further out and then even more further out to look for this amazing beautiful breath-taking marine life we'd been told about. But no, the fish weren't as stupid as us and evidently they'd all fucked off to avoid the wind. I swear I didn't see a single fish the whole trip, except the ones they fed off the side of the boat (and a whale on the way back, which made up for things slightly). Eventually we decided we were out far enough. The water was getting a bit dark and the waves were too big and we were the furthest out, so we started to head back. Only the currents were really strong and swimming normally, we were getting pulled further out. Swimming with all my strength, I wasn't going anywhere. I was just staying in the one place. Not moving towards the island, not moving further out. The waves were too big and the water kept washing over the top of our snorkels. R and I kept up a running commentry of 'ohmygod we're going to die' 'ohfuck I'm getting swept out to sea' 'ohmyfuckinggod there are sharks out there' as we tried to swim back. I was genuinely scared. I hate the sea anyway, especially when I'm being in danger of being swept away never to be seen again. I've seen Open Water, you know. I know where it really happened. I seriously doubted that we could swim back to the shore.

The crew was circling the area the whole time in their dinghy. Every time they went by us they would call out 'Are you guys OK!?' and we're reply with a big smile 'Yes, thanks!'.

I'm glad we had to fight our way back by ourselves, rather than screaming to be rescued. But then, I wouldn't be saying that if we hadn't made it back.

I need to have this dissertation done on time. I need to. It needs to be good. I don't want to regret not crying for help.

'How's your dissertation going?'

Today, I write. Today I restructure and reword and write. No fucking about. No checking blogs or forums or looking for jobs. Just writing.

I like the library much better before 10am. It's quieter and I can make sure I get a seat at the end of the row so I can spread my papers and books out and lean against the wall when the going gets too tough. It's quite calming when there's hardly anyone else around. No one sitting right next to me. No one having a dissertation related nervous breakdown beside me, no one on their mobile forgetting how loudly they're speaking, no group discussions. The only noise is the heater and people typing. If only I could get up early every morning, I'd come here.