3 Weeks.
That is all I have left.
Nooooo no not that dramatic, I'm not terminally ill, I don't have a deadline.
In 3 weeks, I go on holiday. I have 3 weeks to loose 9 pounds, that's 3 pounds a week. I have 3 weeks to save £300. That's a hundred pounds a week. I have 3 weeks to learn an entire Media Law book inside out. That's 5 chapters a week, that's almost a whole chapter a day.
I never usually set myself targets. I never normally have goals or expectations of myself. But, lately, every time I look in the mirror I get really frickin mad knowing that I could have saved loads of money, but instead I spent it on shoes that I didn't need, give me blisters and end up in the bottom of my wardrobe collecting dust until my little sister finds them. I can't help but be annoyed at myself every time I look in the mirror that I put on so SO much weight at Uni, and I can't help be annoyed that I'm struggling to shift it. I can't come to terms with the fact that I don't feel good about how I look any more. I can't come to terms with the fact that if I fail this exam, I, and I alone, am to blame, and will be deemed a failure. I'll have to sit in classes with 1st years and re-take a years worth of hard work.
I'm terrified that all these things I want to happen, never will. And that in 3 weeks time when I jet off on holiday, I won't be able to relax and unwind.
Terrified of 3 weeks time, when I should be excited? Strange...
Sunday, 24 July 2011
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
New Obsession Session
So... today, I became the proud owner of my very own pink vintage guitar.
And to say I'm excited is an understatement!
However, I can't help but notice that teaching myself to play guitar is an extreme form of procrastination, to lure me away from the Media Law books, and towards a more fun four hours of trying to learn how to strum a few dodge chords into a dodge little tune. I am crap, but I am learning! And writing this post, yeah that's another form of procrastination too... oops naughty me. I just can't help it. Once I've started something, I can't stop. Is that addiction?
Well, if so, then I'm addicted to learning playing guitar, cooking random crap for dinner, and listening to my ipod. But, NOT to doing what I am supposed to be doing with all this free time... REVISING !!
It can't be helped. My prematurely mushing brain can't help but let my thoughts wander off to another planet, and as it seems escapism is what I seek...
Who knows where it will take me next?
And to say I'm excited is an understatement!
However, I can't help but notice that teaching myself to play guitar is an extreme form of procrastination, to lure me away from the Media Law books, and towards a more fun four hours of trying to learn how to strum a few dodge chords into a dodge little tune. I am crap, but I am learning! And writing this post, yeah that's another form of procrastination too... oops naughty me. I just can't help it. Once I've started something, I can't stop. Is that addiction?
Well, if so, then I'm addicted to learning playing guitar, cooking random crap for dinner, and listening to my ipod. But, NOT to doing what I am supposed to be doing with all this free time... REVISING !!
It can't be helped. My prematurely mushing brain can't help but let my thoughts wander off to another planet, and as it seems escapism is what I seek...
Who knows where it will take me next?
Monday, 18 July 2011
Childhood Confession
Okay, something just happened.
Every night, I am the last one in my house to go to bed, the last one downstairs, the last one awake. And, every night, and I mean every night, I go upstairs, in the pitch black, to clean my teeth. After cleaning my teeth, I go to bed. This is always my routine, EVERY night.
But I just had a strange realisation. Every night, without fail, just after cleaning my teeth I get this feeling of panic wash over me, and never really understood it before. Every night I use my phone as a torch to light the (short) hallway as I walk to my room. I panic. I always, well, almost always, do a weird kinda half run, half flailing panic down the hallway into my room, my eyes madly staring in to the complete darkened abyss in front of me searching for something that was never there before.
I don't feel secure until my bedroom door is shut firmly behind me and the lights flood my room with light once more.
I'm afraid of the dark.
There, I said it, I confessed.
It's only tonight that I have actually realised, this is nothing new. I have always been afraid of the dark. Only now I can admit it. I don't even care... I know how childish it is, and how silly. But I just can't help but panic every time the room disappears in front of me.
Maybe, just maybe, (this is me going all phycological now) it's a fear from my childhood, which represents a fear of the unknown in my newly adult life? Haha, what a load of crap... though, it is probably true.
So there. So there boogie monster, I confessed, grown ups can be scared of the dark!
Every night, I am the last one in my house to go to bed, the last one downstairs, the last one awake. And, every night, and I mean every night, I go upstairs, in the pitch black, to clean my teeth. After cleaning my teeth, I go to bed. This is always my routine, EVERY night.
But I just had a strange realisation. Every night, without fail, just after cleaning my teeth I get this feeling of panic wash over me, and never really understood it before. Every night I use my phone as a torch to light the (short) hallway as I walk to my room. I panic. I always, well, almost always, do a weird kinda half run, half flailing panic down the hallway into my room, my eyes madly staring in to the complete darkened abyss in front of me searching for something that was never there before.
I don't feel secure until my bedroom door is shut firmly behind me and the lights flood my room with light once more.
I'm afraid of the dark.
There, I said it, I confessed.
It's only tonight that I have actually realised, this is nothing new. I have always been afraid of the dark. Only now I can admit it. I don't even care... I know how childish it is, and how silly. But I just can't help but panic every time the room disappears in front of me.
Maybe, just maybe, (this is me going all phycological now) it's a fear from my childhood, which represents a fear of the unknown in my newly adult life? Haha, what a load of crap... though, it is probably true.
So there. So there boogie monster, I confessed, grown ups can be scared of the dark!
Red Faces In The Rain
So, since I went to Uni, I've gotten a bit chubster. It's not fun, not enjoyable...
Too many late, messy nights, followed by greasy chips or a Subway, to wake up and eat the leftover pizza in my fridge. Too many headaches to exercise. NOT cool!
But it's alright, I can sort it out.
And I have started.... I've taken up running. I'm a student, the gym is not affordable, plus there isn't one near my house, and I can't drive (apparently petrol is such a precious gem that the stupid government charge prices that could buy you diamonds instead of black goo that runs your car with). Grrrr.
Running however, is one of those things that takes time and perseverance to be good at... and I am NOT, I repeat NOT good at it. I look like a frog whizzing around the inside of a French persons blender, arms and legs flailing around all over the shop, a red face and wobbly bum. I want to cry, I can't breathe, I start to feel like I might be sick (apparently this means it's working... really? it hurts) and I look behind wishing I was tucked up in a nice comfy bed with cushions and a slice of toast in one hand, chocolate milkshake in the other, watching Geordie Shore, or some other time wasting crap. I wish I looked like a pro... like everyone I seem to pass on my 'travels'.
Then I realised... yeah I'm superbly bad at it, but at least I'm actually trying... there are people out there who wouldn't even give it a go! No-one is gunna judge me for being froggy when I run, they probably hit the same wall as me along the way, it's getting through the initial pain of it that will make it worth while.
I can't wait for that day!! Off to try on my new pink running shirt...
Too many late, messy nights, followed by greasy chips or a Subway, to wake up and eat the leftover pizza in my fridge. Too many headaches to exercise. NOT cool!
But it's alright, I can sort it out.
And I have started.... I've taken up running. I'm a student, the gym is not affordable, plus there isn't one near my house, and I can't drive (apparently petrol is such a precious gem that the stupid government charge prices that could buy you diamonds instead of black goo that runs your car with). Grrrr.
Running however, is one of those things that takes time and perseverance to be good at... and I am NOT, I repeat NOT good at it. I look like a frog whizzing around the inside of a French persons blender, arms and legs flailing around all over the shop, a red face and wobbly bum. I want to cry, I can't breathe, I start to feel like I might be sick (apparently this means it's working... really? it hurts) and I look behind wishing I was tucked up in a nice comfy bed with cushions and a slice of toast in one hand, chocolate milkshake in the other, watching Geordie Shore, or some other time wasting crap. I wish I looked like a pro... like everyone I seem to pass on my 'travels'.
Then I realised... yeah I'm superbly bad at it, but at least I'm actually trying... there are people out there who wouldn't even give it a go! No-one is gunna judge me for being froggy when I run, they probably hit the same wall as me along the way, it's getting through the initial pain of it that will make it worth while.
I can't wait for that day!! Off to try on my new pink running shirt...
Monday, 11 July 2011
Kick back, relax, enjoy the summer?
I haven't written in a while... so shoot me... I am so very sorry!
Life goes a bit bonkers around April, exam dread means my life involves looking through books, and trying not to shoot myself. Revision sucks.... however, now the summer is here... examinations for the nations are over and done, and I can relax... kick back even, enjoy a beer? Me... a beer? Of course not, I am a lady... cider obviously is the way forward, hehe!
But no, how wrong I am....
You see, in my drunken state in my first year at Uni, I thought that going out, getting smashed and not revising was a fucking awesome idea.... totally wrong obviously. Don't get me wrong, I revised.... just not enough. I got a first in one exam (yayyyyy and mini woop woop dance in my pants around the house) but I dramatically failed the other, sad face. So... my summer... drum roll please ladies and gents... will be spent, working like a dog to earn back the money Natwest so kindly allowed me to spend, tax free may I add, from my student overdraft, AND revising for a horrible Media Law exam, that is too boring to even contemplate failing again. Grr, annoying much?
So .... this summer, my tan will be minimal, my room will be messy in my revision/working state, where every spare second I have I feel I should be revising, NOT reading Cosmo, but revising, NOT trying to learn how to use false eyelashes, but revising. Definatly NOT downloading Beyonces' new album, then trying to dance like her in my room, BUT revising.
Work work work work work.
To be honest with you... I am far too busy and important doing stupid summery thing to find the time, and the will power, to do it.
If I some how muster up some strength (the inner godly kind, not the manly muscly kind) then I'll be sure to let you know about it.
Now... where have I put Cosmo?
Life goes a bit bonkers around April, exam dread means my life involves looking through books, and trying not to shoot myself. Revision sucks.... however, now the summer is here... examinations for the nations are over and done, and I can relax... kick back even, enjoy a beer? Me... a beer? Of course not, I am a lady... cider obviously is the way forward, hehe!
But no, how wrong I am....
You see, in my drunken state in my first year at Uni, I thought that going out, getting smashed and not revising was a fucking awesome idea.... totally wrong obviously. Don't get me wrong, I revised.... just not enough. I got a first in one exam (yayyyyy and mini woop woop dance in my pants around the house) but I dramatically failed the other, sad face. So... my summer... drum roll please ladies and gents... will be spent, working like a dog to earn back the money Natwest so kindly allowed me to spend, tax free may I add, from my student overdraft, AND revising for a horrible Media Law exam, that is too boring to even contemplate failing again. Grr, annoying much?
So .... this summer, my tan will be minimal, my room will be messy in my revision/working state, where every spare second I have I feel I should be revising, NOT reading Cosmo, but revising, NOT trying to learn how to use false eyelashes, but revising. Definatly NOT downloading Beyonces' new album, then trying to dance like her in my room, BUT revising.
Work work work work work.
To be honest with you... I am far too busy and important doing stupid summery thing to find the time, and the will power, to do it.
If I some how muster up some strength (the inner godly kind, not the manly muscly kind) then I'll be sure to let you know about it.
Now... where have I put Cosmo?
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
Apparently not...
Sometimes life likes to chuck you a curve ball.
Now, I thought my mojo was back, but a series of things have just shattered any confidence I regained, and left me feeling stuck, broken and confused again.
Now, I thought my mojo was back, but a series of things have just shattered any confidence I regained, and left me feeling stuck, broken and confused again.
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
Experience?
So. Right, Okay. Ehem. Excuse me. Right. Hmm. Okay, Okay.
Right, so I have been sat here for an hour now. This is getting boring.
I know. I will google my own name.... Nothing. I don't exist. Brilliant.
Ahh... I will google BBC News. Again. Check my nails, go to the toilet, have another Dr Pepper, stare into space, the list of opportunities for time wasting is endless!
The problem is though... I'm on work experience. I'm supposed to, well, work. But when your ignored, that's a little hard to do!
Today wasn't so bad... I got off my arse after the realisation that my only hope was to get up and sort it myself, find a story, find something to do. And boy did I prove them wrong... I got the lead story for one of the pages. Huraah!!!
The problem, the weeny little scandal that does come to mind however is this... if I am such a pain in the arse, and you have nothing for me to do, why why whyyyyy would you agree to have work experience people come in and snoop around and intrude? Yes, training me up for a week is time consuming, and you will get no return from it, but if you aren't going to make my giving away of a weeks worth of free labour worth it, then I would much rather you didn't bother. It makes me angry.
It actually makes me so mad. And frustrated. I have to do work experience to get any where in my career, but it is both time consuming and mind numbingly boring when it is deadline day and nobody wants to help me. I can't pluck a story from thin air believe it or not, I am not a bloody miracle worker! If I could do that, I wouldn't be sat here twiddling my thumbs and thinking of what I'd do if I a, won the lottery and b, got the opportunity to kiss David Beckham (that fantasy is a little too rude so lets keep shhhtum on that one, I would never think of such things at work!!)
So, in future Mr Bigshot employer, I would like a structured day and something helpful/useful to do. (Not that the opportunity isn't appreciated may I add!!)
Right, so I have been sat here for an hour now. This is getting boring.
I know. I will google my own name.... Nothing. I don't exist. Brilliant.
Ahh... I will google BBC News. Again. Check my nails, go to the toilet, have another Dr Pepper, stare into space, the list of opportunities for time wasting is endless!
The problem is though... I'm on work experience. I'm supposed to, well, work. But when your ignored, that's a little hard to do!
Today wasn't so bad... I got off my arse after the realisation that my only hope was to get up and sort it myself, find a story, find something to do. And boy did I prove them wrong... I got the lead story for one of the pages. Huraah!!!
The problem, the weeny little scandal that does come to mind however is this... if I am such a pain in the arse, and you have nothing for me to do, why why whyyyyy would you agree to have work experience people come in and snoop around and intrude? Yes, training me up for a week is time consuming, and you will get no return from it, but if you aren't going to make my giving away of a weeks worth of free labour worth it, then I would much rather you didn't bother. It makes me angry.
It actually makes me so mad. And frustrated. I have to do work experience to get any where in my career, but it is both time consuming and mind numbingly boring when it is deadline day and nobody wants to help me. I can't pluck a story from thin air believe it or not, I am not a bloody miracle worker! If I could do that, I wouldn't be sat here twiddling my thumbs and thinking of what I'd do if I a, won the lottery and b, got the opportunity to kiss David Beckham (that fantasy is a little too rude so lets keep shhhtum on that one, I would never think of such things at work!!)
So, in future Mr Bigshot employer, I would like a structured day and something helpful/useful to do. (Not that the opportunity isn't appreciated may I add!!)
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