Synonymous With Fear.

This week, one of my friends celebrated her 21st birthday. It was amazing: Sex and the City themed, held in a club she'd rented up and giving us all the chance to catch up after barely seeing each other over the past few weeks, due to various deadlines and unscheduled meltdowns. It was a great night out, with chocolate cupcakes and confetti on the tables. It was also timed perfectly, in the last week of term, just before things got crazy, as they suddenly did yesterday. Essay hand-in yesterday afternoon, followed by essay feedback today was enough to send me into a spin and have an absolute meltdown. After tears and terror today, I got the news that my dissertation proposal had been approved and I have a fantastic supervisor for when the writing must begin. However, the time for work has truly arrived and as of tomorrow, I need to put my fear and panic behind me.

Motivation - Where Are You?

I spent a long time looking forward to the days when I could be in control of at least the majority of the essay questions I was writing for. Now I am very much in a 'be careful what you wish for situation'. I am currently searching for motivation, which has been playing games with me these past few days. It comes in short bursts and then disappears as quick as it came. Lots of tea and snacks are in order over this next week; there is a lot to get done before the official end of term. In a bid to make the stack of books on my desk seem more appealing and bearable, I have created a brand new, especially for Spring semester essays, playlist which includes a bit of everything, from No Doubt to Tinie Tempah. After the burst of lovely weather over the past few days I can officially say I cannot wait for summer, and those few weeks where I have nothing to worry about and can indulge in a book for myself, and not rip it to pieces for the sake of an essay and a grade.

Lip Biter.

I've noticed in the past few days while sitting in front of my computer and the pile of books that are mounting up on my desk that I bite my lip when I am trying to concentrate. To be more specific, when I am in that awkward stage of working where I know everything I need to do and everything I want to say, but actually putting it into words is a task that I cannot engage with. In the next few days, I need to put the finishing touches to one essay, do the reading to begin the plans for another, find a way to work the book I want to write about into another AND have a meeting with a tutor as I way to tackle the one I am dreading. To say I am both scared and stressed would be an understatement. Add into this equation the excruciating pain of my wisdom teeth attempting to make an appearance, and I am just about ready to crawl into bed, sleep and resurface when all this is over, with the wish that the Degree Fairies have completed all my impending work for me.
No? Didn't think so. Best get back to it...

Busy Days, Busier Nights.

Recently, things have gotten hectic. There have been essay questions given, assignments handed out, meetings with tutors scheduled, seeing All Time Low/Yellowcard/Young Guns last Thursday night and a girls night out. This was one of my favourite nights out of the year so far, with dinner followed by cocktails at our favourite cocktail bar. I got to wear the dress I brought from COW that I have had hanging in my wardrobe for months and have a night out that wasn't as alcohol-heavy and busy as most others. It was lovely, with a whole new selection of drinks tasted, as well as a constant stream of conversation and a lot of gossip exchanged.

Let Down Your Hair.

Last night, a group of us went to see the new Disney film, 'Tangled', and for that hour and a half or so, I felt like I was five all over again. I loved the songs and the story, which was a very amusing retelling of Rapunzel, and I loved the weird little creatures that don't actually talk (but I can safely say that I didn't love it as much as my housemates and other girls I went with, who danced in their seats and cried at moments). However, it was the perfect dose of classic Disney that I needed to make me smile and remember the fun of childhood. Clearly we were not the only ones who thought this as there were more students (female, of course) in the room than children and so it was a different kind of girls night out that I immensely enjoyed, and it is a film I would recommend to any Disney lovers of any age. :)♥

I Came To Dance, Dance, Dance...

I haven't been on a night out for over a week which, in student time, feels like forever. My last night out was Tuesday before last (see the picture with a wonderfully decorated Laura above), when we went to a night known as Underground Rebel Bingo which is as it sounds. We all got a little overexcited with the marker pens, and Laura definitely took the brunt of it, although having people play noughts and crosses on my back and scribble "call for hot sex" across my arm left me pretty colourful as well. So, tonight, I am off out with some of the people I was in halls with last year. The nightclub is questionable, but the music is a perfect mix of everything and it is always a good time when there's a big group out. Not to mention the events that will leave us with the opportunity to gossip in the morning...

Verbal Abuse Is Nothing More Than Affection.

I stole this idea from a housemate of mine, who forwarded me the list that she found on the internet. Essentially, the challenge/task is to write 30 letters to people from your life and say all the things you want to say, blah blah blah. Some of them, I thought, would make interesting reading and so, here is my first attempt:


No. 1: Best Friend.


Tart –
I think the best way to start this is to describe you. You are absolutely, totally and completely insane, racist in the just about socially acceptable capacity, verbally abusive and, as of about five months ago, carrying around and growing a baby that I can only hope will be a mini-version of you.
It amuses me that people think we have known each other all our lives, when in fact we have only known each other just shy of three years. It seems like much, much longer, which is only enhanced by the fact that we seem to have no boundaries, talk everyday and tell each other absolutely everything (even more than what some would deem normal). And it is from this sharing every detail (that sometimes even scares me. I think you might know what I mean by this...) that I know that you are quite possibly the best friend I will ever have: everything I have done, everything that any other person would judge me for, and you make jokes, make me laugh and spend far too much time trying to tell me that I am not allowed to feel bad about myself because, really, I am not doing anything wrong. You never let me become down on myself, you never get angry with all of the stupid things that I do, and you always amuse me with your crazy animals and love for Subway and it is for this that I hope you will always be in my life.
When I was getting ready to move away, I was worried that it would be the end of our friendship, that we’d grow apart like I have with so many other people, but luckily that didn’t happen. We managed to be there for each other despite the distance during my many freak outs about reading and essays, you discovering that you were having Bump and both of our many encounters with people that we cannot stand. I think this is a sign that what we have is true friendship.
I am trying to figure out what it is that our friendship is actually based on and if I had to compile a list it would read as follows: bitchiness, food, discussing literature, discussing the levels of insane of your pets and a lot of girl talk. Now, to anyone on the outside, we must come across as awful, vulgar even, but I feel we learn a lot from each other, and the fact that we can be so racist and abusive to each is only made to look worse because we agreed to always be brutally honest. In truth though, it works. I tell you when you’re beginning to sound a bit mental, you tell me that I’m being unreasonable and that I should have more sympathy and we both tell each other when the clothes we’re trying on aren’t the best. I would hate to have a friend who lied to me, who sugar-coated the truth and tried to make out that everything was fine when it wasn’t. I like that fact that I can cry in front of you, that you give me constant reports on the craziness that is your house and that you offer me the truth about the things they don’t tell you about pregnancy. And I like to think that you feel in ways the same about me, that this friendship is something that can be maintained no matter what the distance, and no matter what horrendous mistake I am likely to make next.
As I’ve been writing this I’ve realised us no longer being friends would be like losing a limb. A rather crucial limb, like my right arm (and being right-handed, this would be immensely difficult). The whole point in all of the rambling above is this: you are one of my favourite people I have ever encountered, although if I didn’t know you I would wonder whether someone like you could truly exist. This is not a bad thing, it means you are certainly one of a kind. I am very excited for what is to come next, when you become a mummy and I have to leave the bubble of uni and we have to throw ourselves into the real world and become grown-ups with responsibilities. But its all good, because no matter where we end up, we will always have each other. Through thick and thin, during cheese and even after you broke my fridge...
Love you absolutely loads,
- Slaaaaaaaaag x