Halloween Hideout.

The only word to describe last night is epic. The only word to describe today is mellow. I'm still in my pyjamas and we are all currently sat in the living room watching X Factor and ignoring the doorbell when trick or treaters turn up. We didn't think to buy sweets and decided it was best to avoid the guilt.

Friday Nights In.

Of course, it wouldn't be a standard night in without some kind of drama and/or entertainment. Tonight, the drama came courtesty of one of my housemates being trapped in the bathroom because the handle broke. Two hours she was in there, while we attempted to unscrew the handle and kick the door in (all of which failed). After making several phonecalls to parents scattered across the country, we resolved to call the landlady and have the door removed with minimum destruction. Although that was slightly disappointing.

This week has been a strange week. As well as working on my essay, I had the most horrendous cold, had to miss a seminar or two, and leave a party and club early because my body had deceived me into believing that I had fully recovered. (I was well enough to stand in the street at 9.10pm on Wednesday night and watch a guy being carried out of a house and into the ambulance parked outside waiting. Initiation gone wrong, but we all agreed that had to be a new record. Not necessarily a good effort to be proud of, though).

Tomorrow, the Halloween house party that will no doubt put all parties for the rest of the year to shame. And so tonight we are taking it easy, catching up on TV (Russell Howard's Good News, currently) to be fully prepared for the carnage that will be Halloween at No. 3.

A Cup Of Tea + Cheese Melts + Textbooks = Essay.

The state of my desk after an afternoon of poetry analysis and essay planning. This mid-term assessment is already driving me insane and I haven't even started writing it yet. On the plus side, this did give me an excuse to create a new music playlist, the "essay planning" playlist, which consists of all sorts from JLS to Alanis Morrisette. There isn't really much to say in this post, except I have rediscovered my love for William Blake in planning this essay and have been reminded why I hate that Google books; it is always missing the page you want and/or need.

I realised it is now time to stop working though, as I was sat dancing to Ke$ha in my chair for almost ten minutes and got the fright of my life when one of my housemates came in and attempted to catch my attention by waving her hands around. Time for Saturday night TV, methinks...

"Study By Day, Stagger By Night..."

We could definitely be called insane. Last night was 7-Legged, the world's biggest bar crawl, and what a night it was. 7 (sometimes 6) people tied together at the ankle, wandering around the city in varying states of inebriation. The night started in my room, with pictures and laughter, and impressions of the girls on ANTM, screaming included. Our "theme" was onesies, which really means we went out in pyjamas. I've never been more comfortable on a night out and, despite the bruises I now have scattered across my back thanks to a trip down the stairs (thanks, drunk girl with no co-ordination), I had an amazing night. I am definitely up for doing it again next year.

"Life's short. Talk fast."

The days are slowly consisting of too much of this, and not enough reading (or anything else that is going to contribute effectively to my degree).

Pointless.

My attempts to get back into a routine are failing. I can't sleep no matter what time I go to bed, I end up sitting on bed with a pen and paper, writing for hours. The worst thing is, what I'm writing is irrelevant to everything else. I'm wasting time, reading things totally unrelated to me course, scribbling on scraps of paper, listening to music that reminds me of nights out and painting my nails green (my new favourite thing to do). The problem is that I want to work, but one of the other things that walked out of my life recently is concentration. I feel I should go on a quest to hunt it down and force it back into my life. Otherwise the new plan might fall apart.

This week has been good though. Girls night, which resulted in 20 girls gathered in our living room, some slightly improved lectures, a definite lack of work, a 'collective cold', an eventful night out in town, and far too much excitement at the new series of X Factor.

This is an almost pointless post, as I have so much I want to say and I am saying none of it. So I'm going to post this, and go to bed.

"Let's not forget that the little emotions are the great captains of our lives and we obey them without realizing it." ~Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

The Rare Event

When an author captures your heart and your mind, and becomes someone you admire for reasons hard to explain, you know that the book you have read is incredible. For me, that author is Nicole Krauss. 'The History of Love' and 'Man Walks Into A Room' are two of the most incredible books I have ever read, and now sit on my shelf, never to be removed. There are so many quotes from 'The History of Love' that speak to me, that I find it hard to pick a favourite but, if I had to, at this moment in time, it would probably be this:

"What about you? Are you happiest and saddest right now that you've ever been?" "Of course I am." "Why?" "Because nothing makes me happier and nothing makes me sadder than you."

A Quick Rant

When did it become so hard to use a comma correctly? Or to write in sentences that actually make sense. When you spend a lot of time writing or doing things that require a grasp on the English language that can at least be called adequate there is no excuse for bad grammar, or bad literacy in general. I realise I sound snobby and harsh, but I will admit that at times even I make errors. The difference is that I pay attention to what I write and try to avoid these errors at all times. It is the job I am considering going into, and I am very aware of the way people will think of me if my writing is not up to scratch. So tell me, dear, why on earth do you insist on writing when you fail quite epically at getting anything across in CLEAR English???

I Dream Big.

Today I started writing again. Well, strictly speaking, I started writing again at the beginning of the week but today I put pen to paper and wrote more than one small paragraph that had the potential to be more but never would be. I've always tried the "write what you know" technique without much success but now I think may be getting somewhere. I know what I want to write, I know how I want it to end, and I know the style in which I want it to be written. Now it is just a matter of getting my thoughts straight, the words in the right order on the page and then making sure those words tell something that someone would want to read. It's weird what I have been finding inspiring lately. I've taken to sleeping with a notebook beside my bed again, on the off chance that something amazing might appear in my mind as I try and get off to sleep. And maybe one day these ideas might be someone's favourite thing to read. I dream big. Always have, always will.