hands on hips, pout on lips

Credit Crunch

2008-09-06T16:10:00.003+01:00

Today, I joined the library. It's all part of my credit crunching debt repayment move out of home travel the world plan. I'm kinda slowly coming round to the idea that relying on a £92 million Euromillions win could backfire on me. So instead, I'm budgeting. Today I also worked out how much I actually spend repaying debts each month (I still feel a bit dizzy from seeing it all there in black and white), and phoned Vodafone to find out if it would be worth downgrading my price plan. It turns out it's probably not worth it, but I also found out that my contract runs out in December which is sooner than I thought so I can start thinking about finding a better contract. Yesterday my sister was applying for a credit card and I quickly jumped in before she started and made her go through Quidco, so I get £25 from that. Woohoo. Yesterday I also found a fiver in my jeans that I'd forgotten about. These are all good things. I also contemplated colouring my own hair, but when I thought about it I would really need to get my hair cut somewhere cheaper too to make it worthwhile, and credit crunch or no credit crunch I need to have good hair. As a compromise, I'm going to start plucking my eyebrows again instead of getting them waxed and of course continue to push my mantra of 'nights in are the new nights out' to all of my friends.

L is for Loser

2006-08-17T16:42:00.000+01:00

So my life is a bit of a fuck up at the moment. I have a mountain of debt, a scummy telemarketing job, and a 2:1. The 2:1 is good, obviously, but what's the point in having it at the moment except to say 'I got a 2:1'? The old age pensioners I phone every day don't give a shit. My employers don't give a shit. I have no real job. I need a real job. But I don't want one. I hate my job right now though. I'm not very good at it because I will not trick pensioners into buying a fully fitted kitchen. I won't. And I hate the people who work there. They're all fat and yesterday they put a sign up that says 'Your'e rubbish is your'e responsibility'. God I need to win the lottery, fast.

Over.

2006-05-22T16:15:00.000+01:00

It's a bit scary to have literally fuck all to do with the rest of my life. I need to get a job. Urgently. Fly to la US of A in like 5 weeks and I couldn't even pay for 1 night in a hostel at the moment. I need a job. And a new credit card.

Taxi

2006-05-11T12:54:00.000+01:00

I got a taxi down to the vet because I wanted to see my cat one last time before they put him down. I hadn't been expecting to have to do that and I was trying not to cry in the taxi but not really succeeding.

"Do you work at the vet?" asked the driver.

"No"

"What are you going down for then?"

*sniff* "I just need to see the vet"

"I take my dogs there"

"Oh"

"So...you do work there?"

"No"

"Well why are you going down to the vet?"

*voice shaky* "I just need to see the vet"

"Oh, right" *pause* "Aye but do you work there?"

"No"

*another pause* "Because I was going to say, my dog, he's a year old now"

"Oh" *actually crying now*

"And his, you know, testicle. It hasn't dropped.

*silence*

"That's £2.60, thanks"

Thunder, Lightning, STRIKE

2006-05-04T21:27:00.000+01:00

One of my favourite things to do is lie in bed curled under the blankets and listen to the rain. I'm warm and comfortable but outside it's hellish. There's a thunder storm right now. The rain is literally pouring from the sky. I'm in bed with the blinds open so I can see the lightning and the TV is down low so I can hear the rain and the thunder. I love it.

Uh Oh

2006-05-03T11:59:00.000+01:00

Can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe exam in 2 hours can't breathe can't breathe. Oh fuck. I'm really so badly deeply in the shit with this one. Whhhhhy do I do it every time? It's not funny this time. I remember a month ago I planned to start studying. To get organised. Fast forward a whole month and I've done fuck all. Now it's the day OF MY FIRST EXAM and I could not be less prepared. And it's not like it's just any exam, is it? No. It's my first fucking final. I am so dead. It's at times like this that throwing myself under a speeding car seems like the easy way out. Oh Lord. I'm getting a third. A third at best. Noooo! I can't handle this. I've already eaten a bag of Quavers and a Milky Way this morning because of the pressure. Great. 2 hours. In 2 hours I will be in that fucking exam hall. Ugh. Pens, papers, desks, silence. Shi-i-i-i-it. I'm going to get a third and it's going to be all my own fault.

Can you keep a secret?

2006-04-30T18:54:00.000+01:00

If a secret is told to me first hand by a friend, usually (usually) I can keep it. I've never told anyone about R's boyfriend cheating on her and her forgiving him, or M being on antidepressants. But if something's told to me second hand, even with a mandatory 'Don't tell anyone, but...', is it even a secret? Or is it gossip? If the person hasn't had the decency to tell it to me themselves, then I find it physically impossible to have the decency not to spill all to the next person I'm talking to (starting with 'Don't tell anyone, but...', of course). That's the way secrets work. Somehow someone finds out and tells someone else but they're not allowed to tell anyone else and the other person promises that they won't breathe a word, even though everyone involved knows from the beginning that the person being told has no intention of keeping it to themselves and the person doing the telling shouldn't be telling them in the first place. Lalala *look at me using my hands to make a rounded tummy while whispering 'abooooortion' glancing pointedly at E*. Coughcoughanorexiccough. I kinda wish I could keep a secret but I love gossip too much. Is that a character flaw? It's not like I tell everyone secrets, it's usually just one or two carefully selected close friends. The opportunity to dissect details of another person's life is too good to pass up. He hit her!? Is she staying with him? WHY is she staying with him? V's dad is a sex offender!? Are you tellin the police? Does V know!? He gave her GENITAL WARTS!?!?!? And she forgave him!? It all demands discussion and debate.

You have to be careful who you tell your secrets to if you want it kept secret. If you go around blabbing the deepest, darkest details of your life to a bunch of randoms who you have no reason to trust, then I think you deserve to have them discussed behind your back. People need something to talk about in the pub - why shouldn't it be you?

Animals

2006-04-29T01:01:00.000+01:00

I thought I'd be nice and so took la dog on a long adventure walk in the woods. After a brief but stern lecture on the things he was not allowed to do (get dirty, wet, or run away) I let him off the lead and he ran off to explore. It took him around 3.5 seconds to discover the dirty, stinking, swampy stream running alongside the path. It took him a further 0.4 seconds to make the decision to wade right on in. Little fucker. I could tell he was planning a swim and he glanced back at me as if to say 'I know what you're going to say but I'm going to go in anyway. Don't hate me'. I knew he'd ignore me but I tried a last second 'NOOOOOOO!' but as expected it was in vain. He just plunged in to this disgusting pond that stank of sewage and looked like a mixture of shit, mud, petrol and rain water, as if he was going for a pleasant leisurely dip in the local pool. Aaah, how refreshing. I was a tad hysterical at that moment. A crazy power walker storming through the woods with two ski pole things looked at me disapprovingly when I cried, 'If you don't get out this instant I'm leaving you right here and you can live on the streets for the rest of your life!'. Eventually he clambered out and shook himself, as if that was enough to make him clean and dry and ready to continue with the walk. I started ranting at him, 'Oh my god you fucking idiot, you ungrateful dog, WHHHHY did you do this to me?!...' etc etc. He's an expert at playing deaf and he does this blank stare off into the distance thing whenever you're trying to communicate something that he's so not interested in hearing. So he did that, and then just as I reached over to put him back on the lead he decided he was having far too much fun and sprinted off into another swamp. Another swamp. After that I really did consider going home without him. He's more trouble than he's worth sometimes. But...he's also pretty cute, so I waited for him angrily and he eventually got out again, shook himself dry and looked up as if 'Let's get going then'. I dragged him back to the car, hoping he realised just how much he'd pissed me off. There were towels all nicely laid out on the back seat which he promptly kicked out of his way so he could wipe mud all over every available surface, ingraining his stench into the fabric forever. I turned my Mystery Jets album up really loud because music irritates him and I was in the mood to irritate him. In an attempt at winning me round he sat up on the back seat and rested his chin on the back of my seat. Clearly this was more than a bit cute, but also it meant that his dirty slabbery mouth left mud all over another surface. Maybe that was his plan all along.

He would've been 18 next month.

2006-04-24T23:34:00.000+01:00

I'm not going to write about what I was going to write about today because today, my cat died. It was the kindest thing to do, the vet said, and I'm sure it was but that thought hasn't stopped me seeing the rest of the day through tears.

He was my 5th birthday present. He was my baby. He never did anything cute except sometimes he'd come running through if you whistled on him. If he could have talked, I know his most commonly used phrase would have been 'fuck off and leave me alone'. He was never very affectionate, but once in a while he'd jump up to lie on someone's lap. The things he loved most were tuna, and sleeping. He had his own armchair in the living room but wherever he wanted to sleep he took the best seat. When he was a kitten he would rub himself against our legs asking to be fed. Sometimes he stuck his tongue out at me. He hated playing. He hated his big little brother (my dog) who has a waggly tail that used to hit him in the face, and who never looks out for little cats before he excitedly storms into a room. When he was a kitten we used to push him around in a pram. When he was older, everything looked like such a struggle for him.

I'll miss having to move him out of the living room at night and out of the conservatory if I'm going out. I'll miss shouting goodbye to him every time I leave the house. I'll miss not being able to open a packet of cold meat without him getting under my feet. I'll miss his fuzzy little head, and the way he'd look up at me and close his eyes happily, his purring, his little nose and his whiskers, and his bloody irritating 'feed me this instant, can't you see I'm starving!?' miaow. God, I miss him already.

Take a picture, it'll last longer

2006-04-20T22:17:00.000+01:00

People keep staring at me. Seriously, I think I understand partly how people with proper disfigurements must feel. Yesterday my lip was even fatter than it was the first day. It just grew overnight. I had to go out even though I really didn't want to, and people just stared. On the train, in the street, at uni. They'd look then look away then look then look away again. I wasn't even just imagining it, they were definitely staring. OK I did look hideous but for fucks sake. There's no need to be rude, people. Today it got so much better but apparently was still stare-worthy. I did a quick Primark stock up and when I dumped all my stuff on the counter and said 'Hi' cheerily to the woman, she looked concerned and replied, 'What happened to your face, hen?'.

Today I also got a contraceptive injection thingy. It was a very stressful event but at least there's less danger of any more face smashingly painful cramps. I hate injections and the whole idea of them make me feel faint. This one worried me more than most because I spent all last night reading all of the internet horror stories and there definitely are a few potential scary side effects. Oh god I feel faint again just thinking about all of this. Ugh.

If everybody looked the same, we'd get tired of looking at each other...

2006-04-18T19:01:00.000+01:00

I'm looking so sexy at the moment. Soooo pretty.

I've lost 16lbs now so feeling pretty good. Things were going well. Something had to fuck it up, didn't it? So I smashed my face off the bathroom floor and now I'm accessorising my new slimmer look with a scabby bruised nose and the fattest lip I've ever seen. How depressing.

I ran out of pills this month so, with hardcore period pain a distant memory and still no boyfriend, I thought a month off would be fine. Until this morning when I woke up in agony with cramp... spent half an hour in the bathroom, couldn't get up because it hurt too much to straighten my body and I felt too dizzy. Here's the really attractive bit - I fainted on the toilet. Niiice. I'd like to have seen that on film. I fell face first onto the tiles, came round a few seconds later wondering who was crying, realised it was me and thought I'd woken up in bed having a dream, opened my eyes and saw the floor and the blood and felt the pain and...yeah. I look horrific. I look like a battered wife. People are going to ask me what happened and I'll tell them and they'll think I just can't admit the truth. People will feel sorry for me and give me leaflets for women's refuges and things. I wish I'd been drunk then I could've made it into a hilarious story but as it is... I can't even laugh because it hurts too much.

I can't believe this has happened. As long as I live, I'll never come off the pill again. Well, as long as I menstruate anyway. So it looks like I won't be having kids. Oh well.

In case I forget

2006-04-09T23:13:00.000+01:00

1. Graduate
2. Go to America
3. Come home
4. Move to London

She's a Perfect 10

2006-04-07T21:51:00.000+01:00

So anyway, I lost a stone. That's a good thing, obviously. I'm slightly happy, but I'm not really happy. What would make me really happy would be never having had a stone to lose in the first place. I feel like all I've done is moved things closer to how they should be. I should be a size 10. That's who I am. I was always a thin girl in the wrong body. I am a size 10 in mind, if not in body, and I always was. How can I get too excited about simply restoring the natural order of things? People always congratulate others on weight loss but they never congratulate thin people on never getting fat in the first place. That's the hard thing - staying thin. They should be congratulated. Not people who have sat on their lazy arse eating Ben & Jerry's in front of Friends DVDs for years and then one day get up and decide to stop it.

Anyway I still have nearly another 2 stone to go, but then I will be a size 10.

I waited until the cheque cleared before I posted this

2006-04-07T01:02:00.000+01:00

I always knew it probably wasn't my best idea, but I could see the benefits. The money. The calories burnt. And then there was the money. But the two days I spent delivering leaflets now has the unenviable position of being the number one worst job I have ever done, or probably will ever do, in my entire life. I've never worked so hard. I should've realised how hard it would be but all I thought about was getting paid and paying for my flight and I never took into consideration things like letterboxes that are inexplicably below waist level, my funny knees that can't handle anything out of the ordinary, overly enthusiastic bouncing dogs, and the sheer unbelievable weight of a bundle of leaflets. I don't do hard work. I can take shit off customers in call centres or pubs all day long but I can't spend a shift doing anything that requires me to be fit, or strong, or lift anything heavier than a telephone or a pint. Actually one of my main reasons for leaving my last bar job was because they kept making me lift tables. I like jobs where I can sit back and read a magazine and don't have to deal with the rain. I have a renewed respect for postmen (except my postman because he's a useless drunken fucker).

The first day I spent forever wandering the streets in the pouring rain wishing for blocks of flats to sprout up in front of me because despite there being (I'm estimating) 500 or so addresses in the area and me not being able to access around 25% of these addresses without a resident letting me in (short of breaking and entering), they still expected me to get rid of 1000 leaflets. When I said that I was running out of places to deliver to, the guy asked if I'd posted to any businesses. I almost hit him. No, I hadn't posted to any businesses. Because if I could just refer you to paragraph 8 of my fucking instruction sheet which clearly states 'these leaflets must not be delivered to business addresses'. But oh no, he now wants them delivered to businesses. He claimed there were 'loads' of offices nearby. Yeah, loads of offices if I fancied crossing a few picket lines. 'Excuse me, I know you're fighting for your rights out here but if you'd just let me past I'd like to leave a few promotional leaflets'. The offices that weren't council buildings all had their entrances blocked by hoardes of smokers huddling in building entrances having a cigarette, cursing the start of the smoking ban. Obviously I was too embarrassed to fight past them when I had absolutely no business being in their building and no idea where to go once I was inside. I went and sat in a juice bar for half an hour and threw the rest of the leaflets in the bin.

The second day, I had to dump some leaflets ('some' being almost half of them) in a bin and go home early. I just couldn't. I actually walked around crying for a while, it was that bad. I thought I was just being a drama queen making a 'I'm going to burst into tears' face but then I did actually start crying (which still makes me a drama queen, but I must stress that I was a cold, wet, tired drama queen wearing inappropriate shoes and carrying a very heavy bag). That was right after I realised I'd delivered 20 leaflets to an old peoples' home (as if I care, a letterbox is a letterbox). I must've looked crazy. I'd walked too much, the bag was too heavy, it started raining...the train station (not the train station I'd got off at - I'd walked so far I was at the next station along) was nearby (and by that point, half a mile away did seem nearby)... I just couldn't go on (I'm writing this as I watch a documentary on Captain Scott's trip to the South Pole and I realise that my two days leafleting probably weren't quite as bad as his expedition, so maybe I should stop dramatising). Are you getting the picture that the whole day was sheer hell? My instructions said optimistically 'you may take a 45 minute lunch break'. Yeah, right. The instruction sheet writer has obviously never spent any time in this area (lucky fucking desk job 9-5 bastard). There was literally not one single place to stop for anything to eat. There wasn't even a bench I could've sat on had I thought ahead and brought a carefully chopped fruit salad from home (my kind of lunch these days) or stopped off at Tesco for sandwiches before embarking on a 3 mile walk away from civilisation. I was kind of hoping someone would take pity on me and invite me in for lunch. I went into the ultimate Old Man's Pub for a drink after I almost dehydrated wandering round some endless estate, where 3 Old Men were sat around the bar like they probably do every single day of their lives talking about bird flu and their wives, but after that there was nowhere to be seen for miles. Literally, fucking miles. No one mentioned walking 5 miles when I signed up for this job. In fact, the phrase 'local area' was very much stressed. The only thing that kept me going was The Libertines on my iPod. When I wasn't crying I was singing along pretty loudly and fuck anyone who overheard because without music it would have been impossible.

I can't emphasise enough how absolutely hellish those two days were. I definitely need to get my knees seen to because I can't bend my legs properly or straighten them. I knew they were a bit dodgy but having never been pushed quite so much before, it's not usually a problem. I have a blister on my toe that actually has taken over my entire toe. A workman let a huge metal gate fall beside me and it missed me by like 3 millimetres. Oh dear lord god I saw a dead rat. Lying on someone's wall... it was huge and fat and it's fur was all straggly and wet, and it had massive ears and a big (I feel sick) thick tail. I almost went home after I saw that because of the trauma, and that was only 15 minutes into the job.

I might (might) laugh at this one day, when the stiffness in my legs has disappeared and been replaced with new muscles, and I'm getting drunk in Chicago and this is all a distant memory, but right now I wish I hadn't bloody bothered.

I'm Wicked Excited

2006-04-04T01:25:00.000+01:00

Part of the reason I love travelling is the spontaneity of it. I love waking up in the morning and deciding to get on the next bus to anywhere. I love waking up hungover and stumbling down to reception to ask if it's OK to keep the room another night because we can't be arsed packing our bags. Despite this, I've spent a significant amount of time lately planning my US trip (I have to find something to fill my crap life as it is right now. I've also been making a lot of soup). And although it's partly because I don't have enough time to mess around while I'm there, it's mostly because I'm a bit scared. Scared of being on my own and lost or stranded or without a bed for the night. I'm hoping that by doing this alone I'll get more confident of doing things alone. I guess I'll have to, really. I think it's important for me to do this. Especially since my London Plan is still very much my main plan. People say that if you can travel across India, you can travel anywhere. I think that if I can travel across America for a month on my own, I can do anything on my own. I think it's important to be able to survive independently and I have to learn to do it.

I've planned pretty much a complete itinerary, down to things like '18/7/07 - 1:05pm bus to Memphis'. My itinerary changes almost daily but it's my plan to have it completely worked out before I leave. Is this cheating a bit? How hard is it to follow a schedule? Oh god. I'm so excited about this trip. I'm excited about everywhere I'm going and seeing L again. I just want to make the most of it and I'm torn between just landing in Chicago and seeing where I end up after that, and going with my original plan of the Complete Itinerary. At least with the itinerary I know I'll get to see the main things and places I want to see without running out of time, but sometimes the main things aren't the best things. With the wandering plan, I get to feel like more of a 'real traveller' and just go with the flow for a change. No pressures, no schedule.

I guess I'll compromise with a loose itinerary and maybe a couple of internal flights booked. Greyhound don't take reservations anyway. I can book hostels a few days in advance, I'm sure. Yeah. I think that's my new plan. Sorry for thinking out loud.

Feel the fear and do it anyway.

2006-03-27T00:19:00.000+01:00

I have been thinking some more about this trip to the States. I probably should have done the thinking prior to booking my flights but I usually find that my impulsive decisions work out to be the best decisions in the end, despite the unbelievable amount of 'cons' compared to 'pros'. And there are a lot of cons for this trip. Number 1 in capital letters, bold, underlined and in size 24 font is 'I have no money'. Number 1a is 'I have to deliver leaflets in order to pay for my flight'. Dear Lord. Whenever I find myself doing a ridiculously shite job it's because I have a flight to pay for. Delivering leaflets about the smoking ban is likely to be right up there around number 2 on my lifetime list of shite jobs. Right after the job where I had to sell free kitchens. It's only for 2 days, though. It'll pay for a quarter of my flight. It'll be good exercise.

Number 2 on the list of cons, is 'What if I get lost and/or murdered?'. How capable am I of taking a variety of buses and trains 858 miles across America on my own? And it's more than 858 because that would be directly from Chicago to Boston. I have to go via just about every city and random place of interest that's nearly on the way. I was born to travel the world, I think. Because wherever I am, I know it's near somewhere else. And what's the point in going all the way to America and not going to Memphis? And now that Memphis is on the route, is there any point in not going to New Orleans? Sadly I haven't been able to justify New Orleans as yet, and I'm pretty gutted about that. It doesn't seem do-able but hopefully I can find a way to fit it in. I suppose it's impossible to get lost when you're travelling on Greyhound. They're everywhere, aren't they? Except I have a crap sense of direction and can never find my way back to bus stations. That's what R was good for. She always remembered where the bus station was, and she could read maps. Oh fuck. I'm going to get lost. I'm a bit worried about the possibility of murder but I should be OK if I'm sensible, right? When am I ever sensible?

And number 3. What if I get really lonely? I've never went anywhere on my own. Except that time I went to London for a night and was too self conscious to even go into a restaurant so I got stuck eating Subway for dinner and watching Eastenders in the hotel. I was different back then, though. I've changed. I'll meet people. I'll be thin, as well, so I'll be all confident and beautiful and everyone will want to talk to me. Or murder me.

I can't get over the thought of Number 4... 'the Return of the Backpack'. I thought I'd got rid of that fucking thing for a while, but it seems that I'll be getting it back out of the loft sooner than everybody expected. It has pretty flags sewn on it from last summer so at least it'll look a bit nicer, and everyone will think I'm an experienced world traveller, and be impressed. I can buy a US flag too. At least I have learned some lessons and it will no longer be subject to excess baggage charges. I will be casually throwing it over my shoulder and running to catch buses instead of having to do warm up exercises every time I want to pick it up. Another trip also means the return of the *shudder* travel towel. I might have to buy a new one. It still smells a bit and we were stupid enough to insist on saving about £1.50 to buy a medium instead of extra extra extra large. Which would've been normal towel sized, instead of face cloth sized.

OK so there's a few cons. But now that I've went for it and confirmed the flights, paid my deposit and bought a Lonely Planet, the cons are irrelevant. Despite them, I am still going to do this. It's only a month, and I'll only be alone for under 3 weeks of that. I think it will be important to me. I think it will improve me and make me more confident. I think it'll be fun, and exciting, and interesting.

I can't wait.

When I go on this trip I'll be a size 10

2006-03-21T00:32:00.000Z

An itinerary I just made up:

Glasgow - Chicago (American Airlines)
day trip to Memphis, Tennessee (I know it's a million miles away, so in reality it'll be a day-and-two-night trip)
Chicago - Toronto
Toronto - Niagara Falls
Niagara Falls - Buffalo
Buffalo - Cleveland
Cleveland - Pittsburgh
Pittsburgh - Lancaster
Lancaster - Philadelphia
Philadelphia - Washington DC
Washington DC - Baltimore, Maryland
Baltimore - New York
New York - Hartford, Connecticut
Hartford - Rhode Island
Rhode Island - Boston
Boston - Glasgow (annoyingly via Chicago)

Two countries, nine US states, eight that I've never been to before.

Some places seem slightly random but I'm a bit like that when I travel. I read one obscure fact about a place and I go there, hence the trip to Connecticut just because Mark Twain's house is there (and also a little bit because it's where The Babysitters Club books were set and, you know, I have every single book from that series ever published stored in the loft...well, every single one published until I was 12 anyway...), Memphis obviously to see Graceland, Pittsburgh because my penpal when I was 12 lived there and I'm sure I have a good reason for the Baltimore stop but I've forgotten what it is. Some of the places are just stopovers to break up the journey and places I have to go through to get somewhere else (See, Buffalo). The majority of the trip will be on the Greyhound buses with one little Amtrak journey slotted in. Flights are reserved for me, all I need to do is take a deep breath and confirm them with a £75 deposit. Je suis scared. But mainly excited. I've never went anywhere on my own before except a night in London and I was too scared to go anywhere. That was before I changed, though. I can do it now. God, I love to make plans.

Especially when I should've been writing an essay.

The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers

2006-03-15T11:00:00.000Z

In the spirit of my new improved more active life, I bought a trampoline. A small, aerobic trampoline. The following instructions are a sample of what the manufacturer's believed to be vital information that should be passed on to the potentially over-enthusiastic new owner:

1. No somersaulting

Yeah. Because that's likely.

2. No jumping under the influence of alcohol or with cigarettes

I'll remember that next time I come home drunk and it seems like a realllly hilarious idea to jump on a trampoline.

3. No jumping in the dark
4. It is not to be used as a takeoff trampoine
5. No jumping onto the trampoline from other objects

They're trying to take all the fun out of this, aren't they?

But my favourite is...

6. It is forbidden to linger under the trampoline

Even when I've had my trampoline for a few months and have slimmed down to a size 10, I will not be able to fit under the trampoline. My cat is too big to fit under it. Even if I was under it, it is extremely unlikely that I would be lingering around long enough for someone to unknowingly start jumping on it and consequently causing an injury.

So there you have it. All these rules are almost enough to make me give in and adopt the trampoline as a footrest but I am a new me. I am an active person now. I exercise. As soon as This Morning is finished, I'll get off my arse and start bouncing.

I'm Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman

2006-03-09T23:04:00.000Z

Excuse the Britney quote in the title. As much as I adore Britney, that wasn't one of her best songs (clearly that was "You're toxic I'm slippin' under... *shout it out* With the taste of the poison paradise, I'm addicted to you, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT YOU'RE TOXIC!?") but I think it's fitting.

People at the pool keep referring to me as 'that woman' or 'the lady'. For example parents say to their kids, 'Stop splashing the lady' (yes, please stop splashing the lady. Before she fucking drowns you.). It's getting a bit worrying. At least one person has said it every single time I've been swimming (and I've actually been sticking to the Swim Plan, and more importantly it seems to be working). Every single time. And nobody has referred to me as 'that girl'. Not one person. One woman did call me 'that lassie', which leans more towards the girl side but is a bit ambigious.

It's worrying me slightly. I'm only twenty twooooo. I'm just a girl (a No Doubt quote - maybe that should've been my title). I think. When did I start looking like a woman? Maybe I'll start needing Botox soon. Anti-ageing creams. Maybe I am an adult. Maybe when I graduate and get a real job I won't look so out of place. I won't look like a student pretending to be a marketing graduate. I don't want to grow up and I especially don't want to look like I've grown up.

These thoughts scare me, but would scare me slightly more if I hadn't got asked for ID buying a bottle of vodka last week.

Alcohol may affect your ability to make sensible decisions

2006-03-06T16:17:00.000Z

Last night, after 1 and a third bottles of wine (740 calories. Shite), enthusiastic agreement to the question 'Does everyone want doubles?', lots of dancing, laughing, singing, and jumping (yay - exercise!), much admiring of the beautifulness of Dirty Pretty Things, a whole series of events of which I can only remember sketchy, blurry details, an argument with a wanker of a taxi driver (I still don't know what his problem was...I was sick OUTSIDE the taxi, not all over his seats or anything. And I would've given him directions as soon as I woke up), and a little bit of crying, I believe I accepted a lift home from a stranger (I say 'believe' because, as I said, details are sketchy).

Luckily he turned out just to be a nice guy and not a murderer, but I'm honestly scared of my own stupidity. I practically gave him an invitation to rape me. An extremely drunk girl stumbling along a deserted, unlit street on her own... Jesus. I hate when I can't remember what's happened to me because usually no matter how drunk I am, I still remember (although that can be both a good thing and a bad thing...). Last night is mostly one big fucking blank.

I went to uni this morning with my hair matted and sticky from beer, with a bag full of mascara stained scented windscreen wipes which I'm assuming were provided by the helpful stranger. Niiiice. It took strength I didn't think I had to lift my head off the pillow but I had a meeting I had to go to. It turned out to be a waste of time and could all have been done via email which pissed me off, so I went shopping to make myself feel better. It worked.

I have to get out of here.

2006-03-05T16:45:00.000Z

Driving in your car
Oh, please don’t drop me home
Because it’s not my home, it’s their
Home, and I’m welcome no more

- The Smiths, There is a Light That Never Goes Out

Travelling Expenses Day

2006-03-03T16:19:00.000Z

I wish I was a celebrity so I could demand that shops were closed to the public while I browsed. Particularly Primark, because that's always full of people who walk too slowly and take up whole aisles while they uummm and aaaahh over every £3 black t-shirt they walk past (just fucking buy it!). The public ruin every shopping trip I go on. Someone recently pointed out to me that while a person can be nice, people are always cunts. Very true.

There was a stripy skirt I wanted. Typically it was on a rack that was practically floor level, all the hangers were tangled up together mixed in with 10 other types of non-stripy skirts. I hate when shopping gets too much like hard work. It's why I hate sale racks. Shopping should be easy and leisurely, no effort required. But...I wanted the skirt. So I had to get down on my hands and knees and prove to the Gods of shopping just how much I wanted it. It wasn't easy, trying to hang on to my other bags and the big handful of clothes I'd already randomly selected on the way round (I really should start using a basket in that shop). It was a struggle, but eventually I stood up triumphantly with the last size 14 (hopefully the last size 14 item I ever buy before my slimming takes off) stripy skirt clutched to my chest. After all that I kind of expected all the other shoppers to have been watching the action, silently cheering me on, and as I looked around, dazed by the bright lights, I wondered for a second why they weren't breaking into applause. Of course, they hadn't even noticed.

Hmpfff

2006-03-01T14:13:00.000Z

I didn't lose any weight this week. Not impressed. How does this work? I thought I finally got this weight loss thing, but evidently not. Last week I went 1852 calories over my allowance and lost 4lbs. This week, I only went 22 calories over (how saintly) and did more exercise than the week before, and I've lost fuck all. What's going on!? I was gutted.

Another interesting point: I burned 50 more calories on Friday night at Babyshambles than I did swimming for an hour the day before. I'm considering changing the Swim Plan to the Gig Plan. Much more enjoyable, and I prefer smelling of smoke, beer and sweat than cholorine, although gigs are a bit more expensive than my local council swimming pool. And the alcohol consumption kind of cancels any calorie burning effects out. This weight loss thing is pretty fucking frustrating. I'm sticking with it, though. Unless I haven't lost anything by next Tuesday...

Last Night

2006-02-25T17:52:00.000Z

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.

Week One

2006-02-22T15:51:00.000Z

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.

Ooh La La La La La

2006-02-18T22:05:00.000Z

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.

Roses Are Red

2006-02-14T18:44:00.000Z

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

2006-02-14T13:48:00.000Z

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.

I'm Back

2006-02-13T19:05:00.000Z

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.

I Survived

2006-02-11T16:44:00.000Z

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.

Destroyed

2006-02-08T15:26:00.000Z

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.

Five-Oh

2006-02-04T20:43:00.000Z

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!

Plans: Take 2

2006-02-02T21:54:00.000Z

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.

Drowning

2006-02-01T09:59:00.000Z

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?'

2006-02-01T09:42:00.000Z

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.

Plan A

2006-01-31T13:19:00.000Z

My Plan A for life is to win the lottery. And as I don't really have a Plan B at the moment, I'm buying all the EuroMillions lottery tickets I can afford. I had 5 tickets for Friday's £100,000,000 draw and now it's another rollover (which, by the way, I find incredible as sales were apparently up 600%. It must be nearly impossible to win this thing) I'll be buying about 10 this week. I don't think it's an unrealistic plan. It's definitely better than Plan A II which was to locate the Real Radio Fugitive (that plan is on hold, until the competition is back on air - then I'll find the bastard) and live off the winnings. At least it has more long term prospects. Winning EuroMillions will set the next twenty generations of my family up for life. Finding the Fugitive would've set me up for about 3 months, unless I blew it all in one day on a flat in London. When I win the lottery, everything else will fall into place and all my dreams will be ready to come true. OK, OK, so apparently money can't buy happiness, but it'll bloody well help. Plan A has to work. Otherwise I might have to like, get a job or something. Bleurgh.

I detest the library

2006-01-30T17:49:00.000Z

I was a bit hungover this morning and I slept in and didn't have time to brush my hair before I left the house so I look like shit. I felt sick and it didn't help that I'd drank my hangover cure can of Irn Bru before I went to bed instead of leaving it for the morning. Then, it was minus 5 outside. Minus fucking 5. So anyway, it wasn't the best of starts to the day.

Had a nice breakfast with R, reading the Metro and sitting in the window people watching. A roll and sausage and potato scone with brown sauce, and finally a can of Irn Bru. It cured the hangover anyway. That was the only good bit of the day. Since then (and that was 8 hours ago) I've been in the library not doing my dissertation. I have such a mental block and that's not good with 12345...11 days until hand in day. I have no motivation. What's my motivation here? People ask what I'm going to do with my degree and I'm like 'Um...go travelling?'.

There was a girl sitting next to me for a few hours doing her dissertation. Her friends were over and they were all doing the 'oooh my god how many words is your analysis?' crap, and one of them was a bit behind and they were all saying 'You'll be fine!' 'You'll get it done!' 'Don't worry about it!'. Then as soon as the girl walked away they were all 'She is so fucked' and 'She doesn't even care' and 'She's never handing this in on time'. One of them said 'I'd like to be like her, not stressed and just relaxed about it' and the other one replied instantly, 'No. You wouldn't'. Then they were saying 'You'd need to be, like, really shit to get a 2:2 for your dissertation. Really shit'. 'Yeah it's like impossible. Surely'. 'Who even gets below a 2:1 for their dissertation? No one'. 'Oh my god, wouldn't you just die if you got a 2:2 for your degree? What a waste of time'. Fuck them.

The library woman was all moody with me because I took a book to be renewed and it was about 10 seconds overdue. What does it even matter to her? I was trying to use the computer next to the books to look up a shelf code but this fucking ignorant little girl was hogging it to look up her entire year's texts, so I had to go and use another computer. I didn't have any paper so I wrote the code on my hand and then a few hours later I forgot it was still written there and ended up with it printed on my face. I've been leaning on my hand all day. I had to have a Cadbury's Bubbly for lunch, and a packet of Walkers chicken and thyme Sensations. This day is horrendous.

There is a girl with the biggest scarf I have ever seen across from me. It is suffocating her.

Moi

2006-01-29T18:03:00.000Z

South Park Studio

Plan

2006-01-29T13:26:00.000Z

I want to move to London some time during the summer. My sister also has this idea about going to Chicago for a few months in June so I would like to go and visit her if she goes. I've never been to Chicago. But then if I was in America anyway, I'd want to go and visit L in Boston or LA or wherever she is these days. LA is a bit far though, so hopefully she'd be in Boston, or come to Boston. And then if I was in Boston, I'd want to go to New York. Yeah. New York, Boston and Chicago. Then come home and move to London. That would be a good summer, I think. I'm scared I'll be depressed this summer because compared to the last two summers it can't really be anything other than shit. At least I'll have that freedom feeling after graduation. Graduation. Fuck I can't believe I'll be graduating in just a few months. Well, 6 months. Maybe that will help things feel a bit less awful. You know, take my mind off the debt and the lack of travelling it causes.

You have to know where you've been to know where you're going

2006-01-28T10:58:00.000Z

create your own visited countries map

Looking at my crappy grey map makes me want to forget my dissertation, forget uni... I want to get on a plane tomorrow and go somewhere. Anywhere. I don't care where as long as it's new and exciting and different and there's things to discover.

The Libertine is Locked in Jail

2006-01-27T19:17:00.000Z

'Babyshambles gig tonight cancelled'

'Everything's got to be
Just how it has to be
Or he won't play
And I know that boy wants to
Approach me and say
All he's got to say
Maybe he'll say it today, maybe no'

On the news they said that Pete going to jail will reinforce his 'bad boy junkie rocker' image and make everyone love him even more. They make it sound like his fans are an army of screaming 14 year old Pete Doherty wannabes following him around wearing trilbies and injecting heroin to be like him. Or we're all hoping he'll die so that we can have a new Kurt Cobain to cry over and talk about how he was a tortured genius and carve his lyrics into our skin. Well, I'm not like that. I have no rose tinted glasses when it comes to anything, never mind Pete Doherty. I'd so much rather he was clean, that the Sun didn't give a fuck what he did, that he was happy. That he was never in police custody instead of at a gig I've paid for. I don't think it's romantic or 'rock n roll' or impressive that he's in this state. I feel really sad for him and scared for him. On a couple of forums I've looked at, people turn on the guy the second he's let them down. Really, really turn on him, and say some very nasty things. I'm upset, and disappointed, and a little bit sad. Especially because this was the last possible chance to see him, maybe for a long time. But when I bought that ticket I knew it was a gamble and I knew he's unreliable and that he might get arrested or might just decide he couldn't be arsed leaving London. And even that he might show up when really he was in no fit state to be near a stage. Everyone who bought a ticket knew the risk they were taking. I bought it for the chance it would be an amazing night. It was a gamble, and I might even have known from the start that the odds weren't in my favour, but I still think it was worth it. If he was playing again next week, I'd do the same thing again. Because if it had worked out and he'd shown up and played, it would've been beyond amazing. It would've been worth the money 100 times over. I'm not angry with him, I'm not vowing never to give him another penny, I'm not acting shocked like this was completely unexpected. I'm just a little bit disappointed, and a little bit hoping he'll get his act together sometime soon before he pisses it all away completely.

'I'm so sorry if I neglect you
I mean you no harm, mean you no harm
And I'm so sorry if I disrespected you
Mean you no harm
Oh look around, it's true
Tonight, I'll be chasing you'

If you've lost your faith in love and music the end won't be long

2006-01-27T13:43:00.000Z

So the gig's cancelled. The tour's cancelled. Pete's in jail. I might as well have thrown my money into a skip

Beyond gutted.

Two Times

2006-01-26T20:29:00.000Z

Dear Peter

I do, genuinely, care about you. I have sympathy for you and I want you to stop taking drugs and get better and be happy. I want all those things for completely unselfish reasons.

But right now, today, I think I'm allowed to be a little bit selfish. I'm allowed to want you to play tomorrow night because it would make me happy, and the ticket cost me a fortune. Today, I want to ask you please try not to get arrested tomorrow. You were arrested twice today which I think is more than enough for one person, and I'm sure it was almost as inconvenient for you as it is for the hundreds of fans currently waiting for you in Newcastle. So please. Please. Try to go 24 hours tomorrow without being arrested.

Pixie x x x

I know he has a reputation to uphold but does he really have to get arrested EVERY week?

2006-01-26T13:43:00.000Z

Dear Mr Policeman

Please let Pete go so he can play Glasgow tomorrow night. I would appreciate it very much indeed. It would be even better if you escorted him to the venue, just to make sure he didn't get sidetracked on the way up.

Thanks
Pixie x x x

What a Shambles

2006-01-26T09:39:00.000Z

Dear Pete Doherty

If I have given every penny I own to some thieving eBay scummy touting bastard out of sheer desperation to be at your gig on Friday night and it turns out that you can't even be arsed being there, I will be severely pissed off. Severely.

Don't let Glasgow down, Peter.

Pixie x x x

Sold Out

2006-01-25T12:06:00.000Z

Dear Ticket Tout

Thank you. Thank you for taking it upon yourself to act as a middle man in the sale of Babyshambles tickets for the current tour. Some people might say it's easier for fans to get their tickets directly from the venue or from Ticketmaster or some other authorised outlet. Not me. I loooove to see 'sold out' splashed across gig announcements. I love trawling eBay looking for the cheapest tickets. I love the anxious wait to see if I've been ripped off or not. Will the tickets arrive before the gig? Did the tickets exist in the first place? It makes it a bit more exciting, I think. I bet it makes you feel proud of yourself too, knowing that you had the sense to be poised over your keyboard at 9am the day they went on sale, ready to snap up as many as you could. You were faster, smarter, one step ahead of everyone else. Well done. I'm sure you love to watch your auction as the price creeps up past face value. The tickets cost you £15 each but they sell for 4 times that. Congratulations! What a nice little earner you're on to. Ripping desperately wanted tickets out of the reach of fans so you can kindly give them a second chance on eBay 5 minutes later. It's a great business you're in. Thank you for allowing me to bid on your tickets. £40 each? It was almost a bargain.

You fucking cunt.

Pixie x x x x x

The Crap-ness

2006-01-24T15:21:00.000Z

This whole dissertation thing is killing me. Actually, this whole honours year thing is killing me. As a direct consequence of my decision to stay on at uni for another year, my life has ended up crap. Here are the main effects:

1. I am dependent on Nytol. Last night I had a few glasses of wine with R and went to bed early-ish after eating chips and cheese for supper listening to the Arctic Monkeys album (love it, by the way). These probably weren't ideal sleeping conditions, but alcohol usually has me dreaming as soon as my head hits the pillow. I wanted to take a Nytol, just to make sure (and that's what's happens - I don't know if I'll need a sleeping tablet so I take one 'just to make sure'), but I was scared I'd die (because of the wine) so I didn't. Instead, I lay in bed thinking 'I should've taken a Nytol. I wish I could take a Nytol. I'm never getting to sleep. I can't sleep. I need a Nytol'. For comparison: before this year I had never taken a sleeping tablet in my life.

2. I am watching too much TV. I constantly feel like I need to be writing my dissertation. Constantly. That means I feel like I can't go out, therefore I'm always at home. That combined with the genius of Neighbours lately, and the brilliance of Celebrity Big Brother means that I am officially a TV addict. Every single day I watch Neighbours, Murder She Wrote, Deal or No Deal, Richard and Judy, Hollyoaks, Eastenders, Coronation Street, and Celebrity Big Brother. That is just the bare minimum. There's also Desperate Housewives, My Name is Earl, The Simpsons, and lots of others that I watch when they're on and when I can. I also watch too many DVDs. I fit in as much TV every day as possible. I get upset if I'm out and miss something. I am not always like this.

3. I have no social life. This is the one that's killing me the most. I'm in a constant state of crap-ness, stress and tiredness. I had lunch today with some friends and my dissertation was in my head the whole time. My dissertation and how shit it is and how badly I'm going to do and how I can't do it. I am terrible company.

4. Babyshambles are playing on Friday and I DO NOT HAVE A TICKET. The tickets were on sale and I saw them on Ticketmaster and I thought 'Dissertation, dissertation, dissertation...' and did not buy one. This is not like me. Not at all. When did I re-prioritise my life and put uni before going to see Babyshambles play on their last tour before Pete gets sent to jail? It was a moment of sheer insanity which I will regret for the rest of my life. I wish I could turn back time and buy a ticket. I feel like crying. Especially when I see those eBay ticket touting fuckers who buy tickets just to sell at 3 times the price and piss me off. They were going for around £50 last night. Thieving bastards. I don't know how they can sleep at night.

There are others like 5. I am putting on weight and 6. I have spent all my student loan on CDs and second hand boots but really, I don't have time to write about those. I came to the library for a reason and that was to write my dissertation. So that is what I am going to do.

I Believe

2006-01-23T14:16:00.000Z

I'm sick of my dissertation supervisor giving me her pitying, falsely kind smile with a look in her eyes which unmistakably conveys the message 'You'll be working in a call centre this time next year'. She thinks I'm crap. She makes me think I'm crap. She tries to be kind about it but not very effectively. She says things like 'I'm not saying this is rubbish, but...' after she has verbally cut my entire 11,500 word document to pieces. Time is marching on and yet she's still starting meetings with 'Well I've read this through quickly...'. Thanks for taking the time to fucking skim the draft I spent days on, that was really nice of you. Hope it didn't spoil your weekend. The hand in date is less than 3 weeks away? Don't worry about it, you take your time.

Thankfully before I went to meet her today I picked up an essay I'd been putting off collecting. A one week late, written in 2 insomniac-y nights, hardly any research, piece of crap essay. Oh yes you can congratulate me on my sixty eight percent. So dissertation woman can go and fuck herself because I. Am. Clever. Enough.

Flab

2006-01-20T09:55:00.000Z

Actually, I do need to stop eating chocolate. I feel fat. So here's the plan...

Cut the crap - no chocolate, and especially, most definitely no Tesco kid's chocolate crispy cakes. I've already lost my taste for crisps (thank you, Asia) but just in case I relapse, I'll say none of them either.

Those are the rules. Simple. And...easy? Easy. Ish. I blame my parents, really, for my attitude to food. They always used sweets as a reward or a special treat when I was younger and now because I have my own money and I can drive and I can choose for myself what to eat, I still treat chocolate as a way to make me feel better. Even though it fucking most certainly does not. Well, temporarily it does. But in the long term it makes me feel bloated and weak-willed. I think the snacks are the main problem so for now I won't bother adding any stupid rules like 'no roll and sausage and potato scone for breakfast' because that's practically impossible. Yes, I'll simply stop snacking. I know I've put on too much weight in the last few years and it's one of my biggest fears that if I keep going, people are going to start looking at me as a fat girl. 'Pixie? Oh, yeah, the fat girl?'. I can't be fat. I will not allow myself to get fat. I am taking control of my life.

Which is why, from today, it stops.

Everybody Needs

2006-01-18T15:13:00.000Z

How fucking good has Neighbours just got!? Oh my god, the drama! A bomb, a plane crash, death, love, DISASTER. It's fantastic. Connor, Serena, Sky, Dylan, Izzy, Paul, Elle, Susan, Alex, Lil and David are currently floating around desperately in the sea after a bomb exploded under their plane, causing it to plummet to earth.

Confession: I cried when Serena, David and Lil said their LAST goodbyes. (I know it's their last goodbyes because I couldn't wait to know what happens and joined a Neighbours fan forum (post count so far:1) yesterday :embarrassed smiley: - they're ~~obsessive~~ very helpful with the spoilers over there). I adored, yes ADORED, the heartfelt declarations of love going on between everyone in the cabin, Izzy's hysterically apologetic phone call to Karl, and Jannelle's freaky vision of Dylan making a sandwich in the kitchen JUST AT THE EXACT MOMENT HE THINKS HE'S GOING TO DIE AND IS REALISING HE LOVES HER. And then when they were in the 'sea' (which looked suspiciously like a dark swimming pool with a lot of smoke and a wave machine) and it was all 'ALEEEEEEEEX!' and 'SKYYYYYYYYY!' but no one replied. Then Connor and Serena re-enacting Titanic with 'Co-o-o-n-ner I'm s-s-s-s-ooo co-o-ol-d'. 'I promise I'll never let go, Serena'.... T'was fantastic. Oh - and how lovely was it of the bomber to provide a large digital display counting down the hours until the explosion? If only real life bombers are so considerate to onlookers. And it was great how Serena got her ticket about 12 minutes before leaving but no problem, she just reached into her wardrobe and pulled out the 40s outfit she made earlier. I loved also how even though they were making one of their biggest EVER episodes, they were still reluctant to use up too much of the budget, so one minute they were in the air the next they were in the water. No planes were destroyed in the making of this programme.

There's so much good stuff to come on Neighbours. Connor and Dylan FAKE THEIR OWN DEATHS. Such a genius idea (from the script writers, not Connor and Dylan). Harold goes a big craaaaazy and attempts to murder Paul. Harold! An attempted murder!?!?!? If my grandpa was still alive he would've been horrified at that news. But no wonder. First Kerry, then Madge, now HIS ENTIRE FAMILY. Especially since it was him freely handing out tickets of DEATH that led to them being on the plane in the first place. And who is the bomber? My money's on Elle. She seems a bit fucking mental to me, what with her obsession with her dad and drugging Izzy. She could hardly be described as stable, but how the hell would she know how to put together a bomb? I know you can find out anything online these days (apparently) but where would she keep it until it was needed? Where would she make it? I'm sure Paul would've noticed if she was up in her room experimenting with explosives. Maybe she has friends in the wrong places though. We don't know very much about her. I can't wait to find out for sure but even the Neighbours forum people don't know yet so looks like I'll be waiting a while.

Keep up the fantastic work, Neighbours!

London's Calling

2006-01-18T13:38:00.000Z

When I move to London, no one will know me and I won't know anyone. I'll be starting over. Anonymous, a stranger. There will be no one who has expectations of me, no one who thinks they know me already. It'll be a new chance. I can be who I want to be. I think it will be liberating, to be free of expectations. It will be good, and I will be better. And different. I'll definitely be different. I hope I'm less afraid of being alone. Or less bothered by being alone, at least. I imagine in London that it'll be OK to go to the cinema on my own. I've never done that before. I can't wait. I'll be less defined by who my friends are. Because I won't have any friends. Ha ha. To start off with, anyway. It'll be a completely new beginning. I am unbelievably excited, but also terrified.

I can be anyone in London. Anyone I choose.

Japanese IQ Test

2006-01-17T15:28:00.000Z

This drove my crazy. Apparently everyone saw this months ago but no one thought to email it to me while I was out the country so I'm only just catching up.

Trouble

2006-01-17T11:44:00.000Z

The total amount of my debt (excluding student loans) currently stands at...

£6056.45

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Chocolate. Music. Shopping.

2006-01-16T14:34:00.000Z

I had a silly new year resolution plan thingy to eat healthily. Last week I even briefly considered detoxing after Grazia almost convinced my of the benefits. But for now, I've decided my stress levels are high enough and so there is no need to add to it by attempting to give up chocolate. Chocolate, music, and online shopping are literally the only things that get me through uni and I'd probably have dropped out half way through first year if I didn't have them to guide me and cheer me up in my darkest moments. Or started smoking.

The library's doing my head in? I better take a walk down to the cafe and pick up a Flake Dipped and some Walkers smoky bacon and I'll feel all refreshed and chilled out.

I can't think of anything more to write? I'll pre-order the Arctic Monkeys album on Play and it'll all be OK again.

Aaargh the stress is driving me crazy! I'll put my head on the desk, close my eyes, and turn Regina Spektor on my iPod for instant calm.

I'm proud of myself for writing 500 more words? I'll find a new pair of boots on eBay to congratulate myself.

It's lunchtime but I don't have time to stop working? A Creme Egg is all I need.

I'm on the train home after an 8 hour study day squashed between an obese woman and a smelly old man with a baby crying at the other side of the carriage? Earphones in, Be Your Own Pet turned up full volume. Bliss.

Maybe it's not too healthy for my overdraft or my waistline but at least I'll have a degree, right? The acknowledgement section of my dissertation (assuming it ever gets finished) will definitely include a line of thanks to chocolate, shopping and music. That's what's getting me through this a lot more than anything else is.

Isn't She Lovely?

2006-01-15T18:24:00.000Z

A girl who was sitting beside me in the library earlier today offered my a bit of her Cadbury's Caramel for no reason, without me asking and even without me staring at it longingly while she unwrapped it. I think it might've been because I looked so stressed. How nice is that? Of course, I said no thanks even though really I was dying for a bit.

Considerations

2006-01-15T12:05:00.000Z

The library was really quiet and I was sitting a few seats along from some guy I don't know. Everything was absolutely silent until we both sneezed at exactly the same time. I wanted to laugh but to do that I would've had to look over at him to include him in the joke, and smile knowingly at him as if we'd just shared a 'moment', which would've seemed like I fancied him or was just so desperate for friends that I was all set to form a relationship based on a sneeze. If I laughed and didn't look over at him it would just be rude. So I didn't laugh. Instead I just continued staring at my computer screen as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But then he laughed and kind of glanced over at me very quickly then looked away again. That made me want to laugh even more but I'd left it too long by that point and I didn't want him to know I'd been holding my laugh in because why would I hold my laugh in if something was funny? Or he might think that I was only laughing because he was laughing which again would make it look like I fancied him or that I was faking my laugh and didn't actually see what was funny. But by not laughing I was definitely making myself look like I was Not Amused and therefore boring and crap and 'please don't distract me from my work'-ish. And by the time I'd considered all of that it was far too late to start laughing and I'd ruined it all.

Honda Widow

2006-01-14T20:25:00.000Z

This Honda forum post shocked me to the core. And I am unshockable, I tell you.

Read to at least the end of page 3 ;)

La La Library

2006-01-14T15:43:00.000Z

It's Saturday and I'm in the library. Not exactly ideal, is it? But when you've turned into an insomniac things are rarely ideal, as I'm finding out.

The last few nights have been spent pacing around the house, browsing forums, eating Crunchy Nut Cornflakes, cleaning up cat sick, watching Baywatch reruns, writing in my notebook, or just lying in darkness with my eyes closed praying for sleep to take me away. It's worrying because even my no fail sleep strategy - a combination of a Nytol one-a-night plus Pete Doherty acoustic on my iPod, my miracle saviour - has started to let me down. Bastard. I may have to start considering taking two one-a-nights at at time. Which is clearly bad, or else they wouldn't have made such an effort to remove any possible doubt over the recommended dose. Nytol one-a-night. What a rebel.

So anyway, my sleep problems meant I was asleep until 3:30pm most of last week. Yes, that's THREE THIRTY IN THE AFTERNOON. That pretty much fucked up my plan for working on my dissertation for 3 whole no-breaks days which has led to me being in the library on a Saturday afternoon. I've been here for hours and I will be here for hours. I feel sorry for myself although I'm aware that it's all my fault. I hate all the people in the library. A heavy breather sat beside me for about 45 minutes and I nearly had to move. Every breath he took I could hear him exhaling through his nose and it just about drove me insane. I thought sniffers were bad but this guy took irritating library neighbours to a new level. He's gone now, so it's safe to write about him. I went to take some books out at one point to get away from him, and was served by the flabbiest woman I've ever seen, who seemed to think it's OK to wear a white top that doesn't even cover her belly button with her fat belly flopping out over the waistband of her one size too small black trousers, and a three sizes too small bra with a cup that cuts across her nipples and makes her look like she has four breasts. And this woman is at her work, which makes it even worse. I was so offended by the sight that I couldn't even bring myself to make eye contact with her. Cover yourself up, woman.

Maybe I should get back to work, if I want to get home in time for Celebrity Big Brother.

Cognitive Behavioural Therapy

2006-01-14T10:28:00.000Z

I can do this.

I can write a good dissertation.

I deserve a good degree.

I can work hard.

I can do it.

If I put my mind to it and concentrate, I will be able to do it.

One day this will all be over.

I am good enough.

I am capable.

I like it wild and crazy and out of control

2006-01-12T23:01:00.000Z

With series 2 of Desperate Housewives starting on Wednesday, get in the mood by finding out which housewife you are.

I am Edie. (In my dreams).

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the places and moments that take our breath away

2006-01-12T16:56:00.000Z

I remember talkin to A when we were both in our first year at uni about careers and what we'd do after graduation. These words actually came out of my mouth: 'I mean, I don't want to travel or anything like that. I just want to go straight into a good job. What's the point in wasting time?'. Oh, how we change. I can't pinpoint exactly what made me change my mind, but it was a series of conversations with different people, I think, and hearing stories of other peoples' summers working in ice cream shops on Bondi Beach and doing Camp America. Now, travel and experiencing new things is without a doubt my top priority in life.

Since I opened my eyes to the rest of the world, money (a lack of) and uni has stopped me doing as much as I would have liked. However, the last two summers have been wonderfully amazing and I have memories that I will treasure forever of doing things that I could never have imagined doing. I never would've thought I'd one day say the phrase 'Guys? I'm just going to unplug the fridge so I can boil water for my brownie mix, OK?', or that I'd see the benefits of spending a night on a Greyhound bus ('Hooray! We won't have to pay for accommodation tonight'), or even that I'd start to crave Thai food every day. Being back at uni and having exams and my dissertation and the rain and the parents and all the crap that goes with living here and having this life, it makes me so sad and so desperate to leave.

I miss travelling so much. Little things come back to me every single day, memories pop into my head when I'm watching TV or when I'm in Tesco or in an exam and actually, those thoughts are the only things that make me smile some days. Today I laughed almost hysterically because the phrase 'compression sack' suddenly sprung to mind. The whole summer we carried all of our dirty washing around in one of those sacks, strapped to the outside of our backpacks. Remembering the sound pedestrian crossings make in Australia cheers me up. I wish I could walk down the street right now and smell durians or incense around every corner, but I can remember exactly what it was like. I truly did have the best time of my entire life last summer. Packing my stuff into a backpack and disappearing for 3 months was the best thing I have ever done and I can't wait until I can do it again.

It's the things that are different about life when you're living out of a bag and changing place every few days that I love. Things like never having any clean underwear and the pure joy you feel when you find an unworn thong stuffed at the bottom of your backpack. Going for days without washing your hair and sometimes without ever getting out of the clothes you're wearing. It's the randomness of the things that happen, that are just the opposite of anything that would ever happen here. It wasn't just about the places we went, it was about the journeys we went on to get there. Buying a ticket and hoping you know the destination but having no idea how you're going to get there was something we did regularly. I learned to go with the flow, to follow the crowd and not worry about what was going to happen next. Because whatever did happen, it was going to be an adventure.

I just miss it. I miss it so much. I miss seeing new things every day, being new places every day, meeting new people every day. Last summer changed me. It made me better. It made me believe in myself and what I can do. I used to be too embarrassed to sit in a cafe on my own. Now I'm planning to move to London by myself. Travelling is just the most incredible thing to do and I want to be a traveller for the rest of my life.

Deal or No Deal

2006-01-11T18:34:00.000Z

How absolutely fantastic is Deal or No Deal? Who would've predicted Noel Edmonds would ever be back hosting such quality TV?

I adore how they all take it so seriously. News just in, guys: it's a game of chance. My favourites are the contestants who study every game that's been played so far and then go in with a carefully constructed 'strategy' that they're sure is going to take them straight to the big one - the £250,000. They must spend hours working it out. There was one guy who took in a whole notebook full of complicated diagrams and coloured boxes and probabilities. He still ended up winning an average amount. Noel really works at increasing the tension with all the pacing and dramatic pauses, and the heartbeat music is just genius. My favourite bit is when he's on the phone to the banker. It's hysterical but so cheesy. I love how the contestants are all the best of friends and they say things like 'I love you, Carol, so I hope it's small' when they've probably known each other for about a week at most.

Despite it's complete crapness, I am addicted and watch it every day.

Play it online here.

Vote Preston

2006-01-11T00:53:00.000Z

Tomorrow, I'm going to lie on the sofa and watch DVDs and daytime TV all day. Although if I feel like it I may take the boy dog for a walk after Neighbours.

It is going to be heaven.

(Shhhhhh! There's no need to remind me that on Thursday it will be back to work)

Inadequate

2006-01-09T18:17:00.000Z

Other students scare me. I feel like every single one of them is better than me and cleverer than me and they're all going to get a first and I'm going to fail. They sit in the 'social room' before an exam with the fucking book of highlighted notes they've prepared reading and reading and memorising and revising when they fucking know it all already. One girl today sat for 40 minutes solid writing essay plans over and over again, like she was in a trance. She wasn't even thinking about it, it was all just pouring out of the pen and onto the paper without her trying. I sit with them, glancing over my my small collection of hastily scribbled notes, trying to learn it all in the half an hour I have left before the exam. One girl made me feel better because I heard her talk about taking Pro Plus at 3am. She's my kind of person. I'm sure she still did better than me today. I am absolutely exhausted. It is 6:20pm and I have another exam in 15 hours, 40 minutes. And as it stands, I know fuck all. 15 hours to learn it. Can I do it? I have to.

I hate this. I honestly, absolutely, 100%, hate this. I can't wait until it's over.

Food, Glorious Food

2006-01-09T01:43:00.000Z

^^ That is what I do under pressure. When the going gets tough, the tough goes to the 24 hour Tesco.

8 hours, 18 minutes until my exam.

It's not looking so good, is it? 8 hours 18 minutes to learn personality theory to 2:1 standard is wishful thinking. I hate all night cramming sessions. Pro Plus makes me fidgety and I eat constantly until I feel sick. There's a dartboard in this room and I keep getting up and aggressively throwing darts to break the tension and my arm is starting to hurt. Also I'm scared I break the darts because they keep slamming into the brick wall instead of hitting the bullseye. I'm not sitting on a proper chair and I can tell I'm going to have pains in my back tomorrow. Cramming all night makes me feel stupid and it makes me wish I'd been more sensible with my study plan (ha!) and it makes me vow that 'next time I won't be so unprepared!'. I've been saying that since my Standard Grades, 7 years and about 340 exams ago. The thing is, I'm not even that stressed out right now. I can tell because I haven't gone on an online shopping spree yet. I've had about 20 parcels from Play arrive in the last week thanks to my retail therapy needs.

I wish I had more crispy cakes. Four just aren't going to last me long enough (and I've already eaten two of them).