It's my work Christmas party tonight (yes, it is very early in the year). Whenever I've got an evening event that I want to look my best for, I like to spend the day pampering myself, so while I'm sitting here waiting for my hair to dry, I thought I'd share my routine!

First of all, get everything that needs doing out of the house, such as food shopping, out of the way. Make sure you have everything you need and you know where it is so you're not rushing about at the last minute.

Start with a face mask. I use Lush's Mask of Magnaminty. Let it dry, or leave it on for however long it says.

Next step is a nice hot bath or shower. I prefer showers, but we only have a bath here. Shampoo your hair and rinse it. Put your conditioner on, but don't rinse yet. Wash with your favourite soap or shower gel and then shave and exfoliate. I use Lush's (I like Lush) You Snap The Whip. There seems to be some debate over whether to exfoliate before or after shaving - I like to do it afterwards, because my skin never feels quite smooth post-shave and the exfoliating helps. Today, I did it before and after. Rinse your conditioner out (don't use hot water - I usually use warm water and then do a final rinse in lukewarm or cool water). When you get out, run a comb (a wide toothed comb, not a brush!) through your hair.

Eyebrows! If you're plucking them, is best to do it now while your skin is still warm and wet.

Next step is lotion. I really like scented lotion and prefer to use that and a spritz of body spray rather than perfume. I put on my lotion when I get out of the bath so I'm all moisturised, and then I put some more on just before I do my make-up to top up the scent.

You can also cleanse, tone and moisturise now, although I usually moisturise shortly before putting my make-up on because my skin dries out quickly.

At this point, you should really be relaxing in something decadent, like a silk robe, and drinking a glass of wine. I am sitting in my hairdye stained bathrobe, contemplating drinking some lemonade. Once you're dry, if you're not ready to get dressed, put something clean and comfortable on so you don't get all smelly.

You can do your nails now if you're doing them. If you're wearing fake nails, though, don't put them until you're dressed, especially if you're wearing tights or anything with fiddly bits, like necklaces or buttonholes. If you just want to paint them, though, do them now - they'll have chance to dry, and you'll be able to do another coat and any touch ups before it's time to get dressed.

Just chill for a bit until it's time to start doing your hair and make-up. I always do make-up before I get dressed, otherwise I end up with it on my clothes. If you haven't done your cleansing, toning and moisturising already, do that now.

Put some upbeat music on to dance around to and pump yourself up as you're getting ready. Do your make-up. If you're doing something drastically different with your make-up, have a trial run! Don't have your trial run on the same day unless you're doing it before your bath or shower otherwise it might be difficult to get off properly.

Do your hair/get dressed. If you're wearing something that'll mess up your hair when you put it on, get dressed first. If you're not, get dressed afterwards. I try to do most of my hair before I get dressed as my hair is very light and likes to come out a lot when I comb it, and it shows up really obviously on dark clothing.

If you're going to be up close and personal with someone, and their face is going to be near your hair (if you're getting intimate or you're just somewhere loud where they'll need to speak right into your hair), try this - put a spritz of perfume on your comb and run it through your hair. Just use a tiny bit - any more will make your hair crunchy and be overpowering.

Put a spritz of body spray or perfume on yourself, put your jewellery on, pack your party bag, and go out and enjoy yourself!

May you have an interesting life

Some people consider the phrase 'may you have an interesting life' to be a curse.

My life hasn't been that interesting. If I wrote a book about it, I doubt anyone would read it. But I have done a few things that a lot of people haven't. I had a lot of fun once, and I was drunk a lot once and once, I did a few drugs and I did a few things that I'd regret if I did them now, but were very much worth it at the time. Like everyone else, I had my youth and I have stories. Not huge things - I have no wild foreign adventures to recount, I've never climbed a mountain or gone skydiving and I probably never will. But I have anecdotes, hundreds of funny little tales to tell, tales that shock people or make them laugh and I think, well, maybe my life hasn't been painfully dull.

But, and I think this is more in keeping with the phrase I mentioned, I've struggled. Everyone in my family has struggled. I watched a film - it wasn't a particularly deep film, just a comedy, but a character said, "it's the family curse - if we didn't have bad luck, we'd have no luck at all." This is the story of our life. Things go wrong for us. We expect things to go wrong for us. And sometimes it's hard, and sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it hurts a lot. But we're tougher for it. Every now and then, we dare to hope that it'll get better - it never does, but maybe one day it will. At least we've still got something to hope for and strive for - if everything went right, what would we do then? We'd be lost. We've cried through many nights, but we're always able to laugh in the morning, because if we couldn't, we'd have nothing at all. Life certainly is interesting when it feels like you're always trying for something, always fighting for something, always hoping and wishing for something, and always worrying over something. If I'm not worrying about something, I'm worrying that I've forgotten something that I should be worrying about!

It's not easy, but it's not easy for anyone, and tricks like this are what gets us through. We spin it. We spin everything, we try and turn it into a positive, like I did up there - it makes us tougher, it's never boring, etc. The tough times make us who we are, and I like who I am.

And while I do hope that one day things will change, if things changing means my life will be boring, then they can stay the way they are. I'm not somebody who'll do anything for a quiet life. I'm easily bored and I'm not easily satisfied. I crave adventure and if I don't have the means to have the adventures I want right now, then I'll take what I have and turn it into an adventure. You take what you can get.

It's not a curse. It's a blessing.

May you all have interesting lives.

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside

I smell like the sea. I got my hands all dirty and I stood in the cold water until it and the sand squelched up between my toes. A boat came in and I nearly choked on the stench of fish.

It was the most refreshing experience and I am glad to be home. I am glad to live in this decaying little town, because I can walk past all the boarded up shop fronts, I can stand right on the edge of England and I can look at the sea and then I remember that all that's between me and the rest of the world is that water and whatever secrets it holds.

The town might be rotting away and the beach may be dirty, but the north sea was blue today and I am ever the optimist. It really is a beautiful world.

When I breathe in, I can still smell the sea air and I feel rejuvenated.

These are a few of my favourite things!

Well, they're not, but they are a few of my favourite songs, as promised.

First, just the top 3 favourites:




There are a lot of covers of this song. Wikipedia tells me it's been covered by almost two hundred artists. Even Leonard Cohen has more than one version!

The only one that comes close to the original is Jeff Buckley's, which is quite possibly the most famous cover. I still much prefer Cohen's. 'Hallelujah' has 15 verses - most, if not all, versions only use some of them. My favourite, Cohen's original version from 1984, uses four and seems more reverential than later versions, which are more clearly love songs.

I feel a bit sorry for Leonard Cohen when it comes to this song. Most people associate it with Jeff Buckley - Cohen's version only really got much attention last December, when it charted, after the winner of X Factor, Alexandra Burke, recorded a version of it, as well. When she released her version, there was a push to get Jeff Buckley's version to number 1 in time for Christmas. It didn't happen - Alexandra Burke's reached number 1, Jeff Buckley's reached number 2. Leonard Cohen's reached number 36. 36! Come on! Why was there not a push to get his version to number 1? It's his song, people! It's his song, and he's still alive to appreciate it!

Anyway, moving on...



This is one of my absolute favourites and is tied with 'Hallelujah' for my favourite song of all time. I don't have much to say about it. I just love it.



Art Garfunkel gets a bit overshadowed by Paul Simon, doesn't he? I've heard Art's a bit of a dick, but that doesn't matter - this song is beautiful, and it's got nothing to do with Paul Simon. It's a bit creepy, this song. I don't know if that's related to the fact that it's impossible to entirely separate it from Watership Down, which is a very creepy film, or if it'd be creepy even without the link to the film. This is one of very few songs that I can listen to over and over again without getting sick of it. Again, I don't really have much to say about it. I just like it.

So, those are my top three.

And now, the runners up.

My two runners up are here because when I'm miserable and need something that makes me think 'it'll be okay', it's these songs I listen to. So, runners up are:





--

In other news, I spent this weekend with my best friend, which was good. She's taken loads of my stuff home for me, the papers are signed and everything and I'll be leaving at the end of the month. We entertained ourselves by dressing like it was 1984 (see my profile picture), wearing a lot of glowsticks and dancing in my kitchen window. It's really easy to see in these windows from the houses across the...path, so we thought we'd entertain people while they did their washing up.

A sad state of affairs

I posted a link to http://www.givesmehope.com/ on my Facebook today. It's a lovely website - I actually cried reading some of the stories. One of my friends left a comment saying "pass me the sick bucket!"

Isn't that sad? We all laugh at sites like FML, we all like hearing about bad things that happen to other people, but we can't appreciate the good things? There are stories on GMH about little kids doing amazing things for charities, about people who were given a month to live and are still alive a decade later and all you can say is 'pass me the sick bucket'? Are we really that malicious that we can laugh at the awful things that happen to people, but we can't even smile when someone does something that means the world to someone else? I even like reading the little things, like the people who pay for the coffee for the person behind them. It makes me happy to know that there are kind people, and there are people who appreciate that kindness. It makes me happy to know that the world isn't all doom and gloom, and good things DO happen.

But it makes me angry to realise that there are people who are so opposed to being a little sentimental, people who can't even let other people have a little optimism once in a while.

On a more positive note, I'd like to share with you one of my favourite poems. I was going to do either 'favourite songs' or 'songs I'd like at my funeral' the other day, but I'll do that another time.

This is a well-known one, and you'll probably at least be familiar with the first line.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

-- Max Ehrmann

Oh, make me over...

Two people told me I looked like Courtney Love last night. I didn't even have any makeup on except a tiny bit of lipgloss. If it was 1991, I might've taken it a a compliment, but unfortunately it's not.

I had a guy come to view the flat today and it was quite possibly the most bizarre experience I've ever had in my life. I hope he takes it, though. If he doesn't, Frank says he will. I just need to figure out how to move all my stuff, now.

I'm thinking about home and all that that means and a place in the winter for Dignity

I'm going home.

I'd pretty much made the decision but when I emailed my landlord to tell them and ask them to confirm exactly how much rent I was paying over the summer, they emailed back and told me they'd jacked up the rent because I'm no longer a student. It never said anything about that in the contract. I'm going to look at the tenancy agreement and make sure it doesn't anything about it in there, then I'm going to seek help from Citizen's Advice and see if I'm allowed to break my contract because of it, because I'm sure this must be a breach of their side of the contract.

I will be devastated to leave Manchester, but it's not going anywhere and it's the only logical option at the moment. I miss home and I can't afford to stay here - it's just not feasible. I wonder if maybe it was silly of me to even try and escape. Maybe I should've done what everyone else on my estate did - have a couple of kids before they're 20 and get a job in a shop that will close down in two weeks, because that's what all the shops there are doing. The thing is, I don't think having a couple of kids and working in a shop would be that terrible, really.

Anyway, that's not what I came here today to write about. Because I now have a Sociology degree, I'm allowed to ramble on about class privilege and gender privilege and that's what I'm going to do.

I am wondering what it means to be female and to be working class. On one hand, these things can actually benefit me - there are bursaries, funding, scholarships that they give to people just for being female and working class. But does that make up for the things that I'm denied?

Of course, these days nobody in power is going to say I can't have or do something just because I'm female or working class, and that's why it's so easy for people who aren't female or working class to deny that they have any sort of privilege.

This kind of discrimination is the kind that slips in under the door. It's things that seem little - you get a job and all your male colleagues are going on a night out. You can't afford a taxi, so you have to walk home. But you can't walk home at night without having to be afraid. And if, God forbid, you did walk home alone at night and something happened, people would try and blame you for it for being stupid enough to do it in the first place. So you can't go on the night out, and because you can't join in when they socialise, work is awkward, simply because you're female and poor.

It's not being able to feel 100% safe and comfortable walking down the street at any time of day, and having to put up with comments, and having to be constantly conscious of where you go, and how you dress.

It's having to spend hours grooming in order to be 'presentable'. It's plucking your eyebrows and painting your nails and shaving your legs and armpits, and making sure you haven't got lipstick on your teeth. It's having to be up an hour earlier than the men at work to make sure you look appropriate.

It's constantly worrying about the length of your skirt and the height of your neckline, and it's constantly wondering if you got (or didn't get) that job because of your boobs, or how you look. It's constantly having to wonder if the men who do the same job as you are getting paid more.

It's being told by your male boss to wear smart and comfortable shoes to work because you're going to be on your feet all day and not being able to find smart shoes for women that you can comfortably spend 8 hours on your feet in and especially not for a decent price.

It's not getting the job because you couldn't afford to buy new smart clothes for the interview and your old ones are beyond repair or don't fit.

It's not even being able to afford to get to the interview.

It's not being able to join in their conversations about skiing holidays in the Alps, or their en suite bathrooms. It's them looking at you in horror when you tell them, fondly, about how you used to play next door and your mum would bang on the wall when it was time for ypu to come home, because no classy person lives in a house with a connecting wall like that.

It's people assuming that wealth and intelligence go hand in hand and thinking you're stupid as soon as they hear your accent or see your house. It's never being given a chance to prove yourself.

It's people with more money apologising for the way you grew up, even though you were perfectly happy growing up that way.

It's the day you can afford to buy some eggs and being made to feel guilty for not buying free range eggs, even though you can get 12 caged eggs for the price of 6 free range.

It's people assuming they know all about you (and it's all bad) because of where you're from and how you talk.

It's so many other things, but especially, it's being told by privileged people that privilege no longer exists, because they've never seen it.

Life after graduation

I'm in a difficult place at the moment - namely, Salford.

I graduated two weeks ago and ever since then I've been floating around in this miserable sort of limbo. Nobody wants to give me a job. I've been to two interviews - one of them turned out to be a scam (I'll write more about that in a separate post) and one of them I didn't really want but I would have taken it if they offered it to me. They said they'd ring me back yesterday and they haven't, so I guess it's a no.

The thing is, I don't terribly want a full-time job here. A full-time job here means I'd only be able to go home and see my family, my friends and my little dog for a few weeks out of the year, and I'd spend the rest of the year miserable. I love my friends here, but they're not enough. My friends at home are enough. I wish there was some way I could divide my time equally between here and there, but there isn't. I love this city, and the thought of leaving it permanently makes me sad. The thought of never doing some of the things I've wanted to do here makes me sad, like getting the train to Liverpool or Blackpool and being there in an hour, or visiting all the shops and clubs and museums I want to go to. If I could move all of my family and friends up here, I'd do it in a second, but I can't. And yes, I can go home on weekends if I'm working full-time, but that'd be getting the train at 6pm on Friday, not being home until 9pm, and then having to leave again on Sunday. I'd only be there for one day, what's the point of that? I want to spend my weekends relaxing, not travelling.

But the thought of being here, scared, lonely, isolated, disconnected and penniless like I am at the moment makes me a lot more miserable. I'm not happy here anymore. Here is not right for me anymore, that much is clear. Every time I think about being stuck here forever, I cry.

I just wish somebody would listen to me. I don't talk to anyone about it, because every time I do, they look at me like I'm an idiot and I've just suggested we try constructing a lift to Jupiter made out of lollysticks and matchboxes. If they don't do that, they still don't really listen to me. I can see their minds working, thinking of how me staying here would benefit them in some way, then they start trying to convince me I should stay here, because of A, B and C. I have already thought of A, B and C. I have already thought about everybody else. I'm frustrated because I have to choose between doing what will make me happy - which will somehow apparently make everyone else miserable, even though it has no effect on most of them at all, or doing what'll make everyone else happy and staying here being miserable. If I do what makes me happy, people will say I'm selfish. If I do what makes them happy, then I'll be miserable, but I'll still have to pretend to be happy because people don't like other people being miserable. Apparently being unhappy makes you selfish as well. It's a no win situation.

And leaving is going to be a hassle. I'll have to get rid of this flat. I didn't want to live in this damn flat this year, anyway, but everybody expected me to stay here and get somewhere to live here. I think with a lot of my friends, it was automatically assumed that they'd go home when they finished uni. With me, I was apparently expected to stay here - going home was never presented as an option to me, so I signed the contract on this place for another year because my mother wouldn't shut up about hurrying up and doing it otherwise I'd end up with nowhere to live. I wouldn't have cared if I'd ended up with nowhere to live, because I don't want to have somewhere to live here.

This is not home, this is not where I belong and this is not where I am happy. I just sit in this dingy little flat with the curtains closed, being miserable, applying for jobs I don't want to pay the rent on the flat I don't want, because I can't get rid of the flat I don't want, so instead I need to stay here and get a full-time job that I don't want, not because I don't want to work, but because I don't want to be stuck here.

Strangers

In my first year of university, on the course I quit after a year, I met a woman.

I didn't know her very well but I remember that my friend and I were talking to her in a class once. She said, of me, to my friend "keep an eye on her; she looks so unhappy."

I don't even remember her name, but I think she knew me better than 90% of the people I've known ever did.

In the same year, on a particulary grotty November afternoon when I was particularly unhappy, I met a man.

I don't know his name. I only met him once. He told me my sparkly shoelaces brightened his day because they brought a little touch of colour and something different to such a miserable afternoon.

I don't even remember what he looked like, but I've never forgotten him. I think it's the nicest thing a stranger has ever said to me.

This is the blog that never ends, it just goes on and on, my friends.

I'm at my mum's with a suntan that started off as a sunburn. I'm fairly sure the sun is more dangerous to British people than it is to anybody else. Not because we burn more easily, but because we see the sun so rarely that when it does come out, we strip off all our clothes and sit outside from dusk until dawn. Old men suddenly start peeling potatoes in the garden or painting their fences and they're always topless. We all whip off the jeans, jumpers and thick coats and run around in shorts and strappy tops (or no top at all). And we'll go anywhere, as long as we're outside. My best friend and I sat on a pokey grass verge next to a main road last Monday. We had a building site in front of and behind us, a building site to the left and a building site across the road on the right. Then we went up the woods and climbed a fence, but we found an unexpected gardener so we ran away again.

Being at home is both nice and Godawful. It's nice to see my dog and my best friends and my mum, of course, but it's less nice being constantly told what to do and how to do it. I moved out four years ago and have become very used to doing things my way, so I get easily irritated when my mum tries to tell me how to do things. A while ago, my key to the back door just failed. It wouldn't work for whatever reason and I kept getting locked in and out. My mum refused to accept there was anything wrong with the key until she tried it herself and instead told me I was unlocking the door wrong! The other day, she told me I'd put the washing up water in the sink wrong. Not washed up wrong, put the water in the sink wrong.

Anyway, since the blog seems to have become "things that annoy me", here are some phrases and sentiments that get on my nerves:

1) You can achieve anything if you put your mind to it.

What? No, you can't. If I put my mind to being a giraffe, I still won't become one. I am also unlikely to fly, or even become an accountant (which is a blessing, really). This is one of those things people say without thinking about it. Some people work their arses off their whole lives to achieve something and never do, through no fault of their own. Obviously if you want to achieve something, you have to put your mind to it - I'm not faulting that - but the idea that you can achieve ANYTHING is simply not true and it's a bit of a kick in the bum for those people who have done everything they can and still not achieved what they want to.

2) When someone's ill (particularly with a terminal illness), the idea that they're 'a fighter', they're 'strong' and they're 'not giving up'.

I understand that it might seem a little harsh to say this a crock of shit, and I understand that obviously a positive attitude can be good for your health (after all, we all know that stress can contribute to, and cause, a lot of health problems). But doesn't this sentiment imply that those who have died from that particular illness were weak and DID give up? I read an interview with Jane Tomlinson's husband and while I'm sure a lot of people were saying his wife lived as long as she did because she was strong, a fighter, etc, he refused to say it - he thought it was disrespectful to the people who didn't survive for as long as she did, and he's right.

3) "If you do what you want to do, not what other people want you to do, you'll be happy."

Not necessarily true. There are plenty of things I would like to do that I'm sure my friends and family (especially family) wouldn't approve of. I want my friends' and family's approval because I love them, and I want the respect and support of those I love. Who doesn't? It doesn't mean I won't do those things, but it doesn't mean I won't be totally happy for as long as I'm getting disapproving looks and mutters from people I love every time I mention what I'm doing.

This can happen even over the mildest choices. Have you ever been in a restaurant and ordered something unusual or something that looks unappetising to your companions? The food is delicious, but you don't really enjoy it because they sit there commenting on it through the entire meal.

When I got my lip pierced, I was so happy - I'd wanted it done for ages and was thrilled. My mother really, really wasn't, and being around her complaining about it all the time made me a lot less happy about it. I couldn't enjoy it when she was moaning about it.

I'm a vegetarian. I have been for seven years. I like being a vegetarian. It's what I want to do. It makes me happy. But I often don't tell people unless I need to, because the piss-taking and the jeers and the attempts some people make to get vegetarians to eat meat do not make me happy.

And, on a note slightly more relevant to the original purpose of this blog, a year or so ago I applied for a particular job. I didn't get it, but this year I'll be applying again. My mum likes the idea of this job (probably because it's a JOB), but I told one of my friends and she gave me a filthy look. A month or so ago, out of nowhere, she said, "but you don't want to do that job, do you? You don't want to do it all your life. You should apply at some agencies, you can do some receptionist work!" I never said anything to her about not wanting to do the job - it was her that didn't like the idea of me doing it. One person's pulling in one direction, one person's pulling in another, no matter what I do, someone'll disapprove.

As long as people insist of taking such interest in other people's lives (to the point of being controlling), most of us won't be totally happy doing what we want to do if those around us don't approve of it. How happy can you be when you're constantly being told you're wrong? We all need love, respect, approval and support from the people around us in order to be happy.

On a more positive note, I'm off for a lovely meal with my best friends on Wednesday. It's an excuse to put on a pretty dress, do my hair and gossip, and as long as nobody asks me "so, what're you going to do with your life now?", I'll be perfectly happy.

It could be you!

Do you know what annoys me? Well, there are a lot of things that annoy me - people accusing me of being a Geordie, the fact that I'm almost sure that my neighbours are drug dealers but not sure enough to report them or blackmail them, the fact that I am stereotypically blonde and girly when it comes to DIY (as my chair-fixing and wall-painting disasters will attest to. I would say that I hope my landlord doesn't read this but after Friday's incident I'm not convinced my landlord can read) and the fact that I get hazardous chemicals in my eyes on at least a weekly basis.

Today's annoyance, though, is the lottery. Sundays and Thursdays are always tragic times for me. There should be a 12 step program for the lottery - everybody's always saying how you can become addicted to heroin after using it once, but nobody seriously warns you about the lottery.

It took me a while to get into it, because my mother used to complain about it all the time and moan about where the money went, so I always thought there was something intrinsically awful about the lottery. Then again, whenever my mother went to vote, she'd refuse to tell me who she voted for - she told me she wasn't allowed to, because it was a secret. For a long time, I thought politics was like Freemasonry.

Anyway, I just used to do the lucky dip - why not, I thought. Someone's got to win it, it's a bit of fun and I can at least hope it'll be me. It never was, but it always seemed like the next week, the numbers I had last week came up. So I decided to use the same numbers every week.

Now, I was very careful about this. I read that you shouldn't use birthdays because then you'll never have a number higher than 31. So I did a little fiddling to make it work - my birthday is 26/12, so I added those together and had the number 38. I did the same with my mum's birthday, my best friend's birthday, my niece's birthday and my dog's birthday (twice). Sorted. I put a lot of thought into my lottery numbers.

But I still haven't won! I haven't even won a tenner! What's that all about? At first, I genuinely believed I was going to win the jackpot. Every Wednesday and Saturday I'd be there on the edge of my seat, waiting for the draw. But now it's like when I was at school, and I used to hope that I'd wake up to snow so I wouldn't have to go. But my hopes were always in vain, because it was June (and despite what Vanessa Williams says, I'm still not convinced that the snow does come down in June. Especially not in Redcar). And also because I had to go to school in the snow anyway. So actually, it's nothing like that.

Anyway, last night my friend was round and we were watching Britain's Got Talent and I was painting my toenails - Saturday nights are a hub of activity in my house, as you can see. I realised the lottery had been on, and wondered aloud whether I had won. He said, "bloody deluded people." Now, I'm not sure if he was talking about the people on Britain's Got Talent or people that do the lottery, but he's right! I am deluded! But I can't stop playing the lottery, because what if I don't buy a ticket and my numbers come up? Before I got my fastpay card (a truly heavenly invention), I used to panic in case I didn't put the lottery on on time. I am actually addicted.

And the advert! I can't find it anywhere to show you, but you know the one - "let's hear it for the optimists" and all that. It makes me feel like playing the lottery means I'm a fantastic person. That advert is like the Marlboro Man of the gambling world.

But then, playing the lottery is far better than smoking. It costs a lot less, for a start - the lottery only costs me £2 a week, and they never put it up when they do the budget. You're not banned from playing the lottery in pubs and people don't give you dirty looks when you play the lottery in the street. Also, the lottery gives you a chance at winning a lot of money, no matter how miniscule that chance is. Smoking has never given me that chance - the only thing smoking has given me is an increased probability of a premature death and yellowing fingernails.

So, really, all things considered, I don't think the lottery is that bad.

You know what else really annoys me, though? That Bridget Jones style advert. I think it's for Activia. That's just crap, isn't it?

The man upstairs is ACTUALLY a man upstairs and he has driven me insane

I am feeling quite angry today, mainly due to the neighbours from hell, but also because of the amount of stupidity I have seen expressed on the internet.
So, to take my mind off that, I'd like to share with you three things that really annoy me.

• Anything that amounts to "blah blah benefits/welfare blah blah taxpayers' money blah blah sit on their arses all day blah blah get a job". What a load of bullshit. If you're against benefits/welfare because you 'don't like paying for someone to sit on their arse all day', come here, try and justify yourself and I'll tell you why you're full of shit.

• "Political correctness gone mad", when what you actually mean is "I am a straight, white, middle-class man - how DARE they give someone who ISN'T LIKE ME the same rights to dignity, comfort and happiness that I have?! How rude!" If you use the phrase 'political correctness gone mad' to describe things such as gender-neutral toilets, legislation against hate crime, etc, come here, try and justify yourself and I'll tell you why you're full of shit.

• Anyone who says being gay is a choice. What the hell? That's not even a logical thing to say. If you believe this, come here, try and justify yourself and I'll tell you why you're full of shit and also kick you in the balls.

This post doesn't have a title

Today was my last ever lecture which means I get to be all soppy and sentimental. In fact, that's what this post is about.

In my class today, we were talking about writing our reflective statement. It's 1000 words, 25% of our grade for this module and it's pretty much just talking about how the module made us feel. We have to back it all up, though, with literature and academia.

I think this gets drilled into people and it takes over their lives. University is an experience just like anything else, and the academic side is not the most important part of it, I don't think. Too many people, especially very academic people, live their lives based on logic and rationality all of the time. These are the people that say they don't believe in love and these are the people that dismiss emotions as silly and sentimental and they're proud of that.

Don't be proud of that.

The most important thing in life - people. No man is an island, as they say. Even if you don't think you rely on other people, you do. If you don't have any friends or family, you've still got people. People in shops, your bank manager, all people, and a people you need to have some sort of relationship with, even if it only lasts the 30 seconds it takes to buy your paper. People are not logical and rational. People have emotions. People are sometimes angry, sometimes irrationally. Sometimes they're sad, sometimes irrationally. Sometimes they're happy, sometimes they're excited, sometimes they're nervous, sometimes they're awestruck, and yes, sometimes they are silly and sentimental and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. Sometimes they laugh at things that might seem small to you, and sometimes they cry over things that might seem small to you. Sometimes they laugh and cry over bigger things. Let them do it, appreciate the fact that they're doing it. Appreciate the fact that they are living their lives. Let people be passionate about things that you might see as silly. Chances are you wouldn't be where you are today without the people who were passionate about something.

Some people get very jaded and cynical and some people are proud of that, too. Try not to become too jaded, or you'll miss out on a lot. Don't be naive. Don't take everything at face value. But let yourself be excited over the little things. Let yourself be awestruck sometimes. Remember those silly and sentimental people? Don't write them off. Don't write off the things that make them smile, or cry, or laugh. Try to open your heart and mind to those things and maybe you'll see what they see. If you let the little things move you, you'll smile so much more. You'll have more to enjoy. Try it.

Sometimes, life is difficult. That's because it isn't all rational and logical. And in the end, that's the beauty of it.

So, let yourself get emotional. Be silly and sentimental. You only get one shot.

Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans

Yesterday, I felt like a little housewife and it felt so strange. I'd be a shit housewife, mainly on account of not being married, but also because I can't sew for shit. But I cooked, cleaned, did the food shopping, did the laundry, stitched my jacket, did a little work and at one point I stopped to think and I wish I hadn't.

When did this happen? I don't remember growing up. I don't remember becoming the kind of person who stitches jackets or gets excited about bedding and kitchenware. I suppose it happens to everybody. It must have happened while I wasn't looking.

It seems like my whole life has happened while I wasn't looking over these last few years. Here I am, last ever lecture tomorrow, all my assignments due in by the end of this month, graduation in July. Seems the only person who isn't happy for me right now is me. I can't stop crying tonight. I really, unexpectedly, don't want to leave. If you'd told me four years ago that I'd feel like this, I'd have laughed in your face. It's all happened too fast. I'd like another go, please. I'm not ready for this ride to finish just yet. I couldn't have asked for a better experience, but I'd just like to have it again. Just for another year or two.

Just a spring clean for the May queen

I don't think anybody can argue with me when I say that some of the most pleasurable things in life can be the simplest, and sometimes, the best things in life really are free.

Tomorrow and Sunday are my days off. Complete, total days off. Everything I need is here. I don't have to leave the house at all, and I won't. I will spend the evening curled up on my sofa with a good book (£1), my favourite foods, delicious chocolate for pudding (£1), and in my cosy pyjamas, under a blanket. I will drink some fizzy orange and maybe have a vodka. I will read my book, or maybe I'll watch the TV or a DVD, and I will do it by the orange glow of the heater, long after the pigeon outside my flat has to gone to bed to escape from the pitter-patter of the rain. My flat will be tidy, and for a few hours, I won't worry about anything. Then I'll go to bed to sleep for as long as I like.

Maybe next week, we'll have a lovely sunny day again. The kind of day where it's not so hot as to be uncomfortable, but it's warm enough to not need a jacket and bright enough to wear sunglasses. These are my favourite days, the kind of days where you sit in the grass and have picnics and drink cold drinks and just enjoy being outside, not complaining about the heat, not complaining about the coat, not complaining at all. Sunbathing on beaches in Barbados can never compare to a sunny day in England. The thing about our sunny days is that we never expect them and there's so few of them that it's such a brilliant surprise to wake up to warmth and sunshine, and you know you have to go outside and make the most of it, because you don't know when there'll be another day quite like that. Waking up to a sunny day and knowing I can spend it outside always puts me in a better mood. Sometimes, like everybody else, I get miserable. I get depressed. I feel like everything is a little pointless and a little hopeless and I wish I wasn't here or anywhere else. But then, a sunny day comes along, and I know that if I wasn't here, I wouldn't be able to enjoy it. I'd never be able to sit out in the sun and have a picnic and wear sunglasses. I'd never be able to get caught in a spring breeze where all the cherry blossom blows off the trees. Those are the kind of days that give you a little perspective - it really isn't all bad. If something as simple as a bit of sun can make me appreciate being alive as much as it does, then I know that it's not all pointless. Change is on that spring breeze, and it's perfectly okay to hope that it brings with it something good.

Alright, that's the mawkish stuff out of the way for a while, I hope. Normal service will resume as soon as possible.

I'd rather be deaf as a post

Today's blog comes to you from Firefox! I downloaded it last night because Internet Explorer has attitude problems. I thought it'd take a while to get used to, but it's fine.

So I've been away for a while. I was at my mum's over Easter and didn't really have anything to blog about. Not much happened over Easter. My uncle died, which was sad and a little unexpected. The funeral was huge and the service was lovely, though.

I applied for a job which I really, really wanted and my application form was clearly the best in the world. I was worried it hadn't made it to the right place in time, but it turned out they'd just written to me to acknowledge that they received it instead. I didn't even get a interview, which I'm absolutely gutted about, especially since I got three (THREE!) paper cuts tearing into my post that morning.

I have one lecture left ever, which is quite worrying. On the bright side, my Feature Writing tutor told us the other day that blogging will help us to get a job. I hope that's true, because then one day, I can say I got a job by babbling about songs and diaries in a little corner of the internet. I wish this WAS my job. How good would that be?

I spent the weekend in Nottingham at NUS LGBT conference. It was my third (and last) time there and as usual, I enjoyed it, although it wasn't as good as last year.

Today I'd like to talk to you about one of my pet peeves - absolutely crap song lyrics.

There are two pretty shocking examples of this.

The first is Save The Best For Last:



I'm sorry. That was the only video I could find with the original version of the song. I had to listen to the intro about 8 times to find that, too.

Now, this is a nice enough song, and it starts off reasonably, I suppose. I'm sure sometimes the snow does come down in June, somewhere. But it really lets itself down with the next line - 'sometimes the sun goes round the moon'.

Sometimes the sun goes round the moon.

Does sticking this bullshit in the second line not defeat the entire point of the song? How am I supposed to take it seriously now? If there's a message or a point to this song, it's been completely obliterated by this line. The sad fact, Vanessa Williams, is that the sun does not go round the moon. Ever. Not sometimes, not once in a blue moon (aha, thank you, I'm here all week), not EVER. I'm no scientist, but I knew this when I was SIX. I think the point of this line (which is repeated several times throughout the song) is that sometimes unlikely things happen. But really, this line does NOT prove that point, because the sun does NOT go round the moon. Ever. Have I made that clear?

The award for the most forced rhyming, however, goes to Des'ree for the monstrosity that is Life:



I don't even know what to say about this. Let's look at the first part:

'I'm afraid of the dark,
especially when I'm in a park.'

I just...what? Why? Is the dark any more scary in a park than it is in say, a grotty old alleyway in Salford? Or a forest?

Then we have this lyrical atrocity:

"I don't want to see a ghost,
it's the sight that I fear most,
I'd rather have a piece of toast."

Now, okay. I understand this. Toast is good. Apart from those among us who watch too much Most Haunted, most of us would rather have a piece of toast than see a ghost. Actually, I'd rather have a piece of toast than do a lot of things. I'd rather have a piece of toast than listen to someone boast. I'd rather have a piece of toast than deliver someone's post, or be a terrible host, or have a Sunday roast, or ever listen to this song again. In fact, I'd probably sooner gauge my eyeballs out with a rusty spoon and a toothpick than listen to this song again. But I really don't feel the need to write a song about it!

The second verse, in comparison to the first, is almost poetry. She tells us about how she's so superstitious, she won't walk under ladders and carries a rabbit's tail (?! Isn't it supposed to be a rabbit's foot?! That's not superstition, that's animal cruelty!). Then she says:

"I'll take you up on a dare,
Anytime, anywhere."

Yes. Unless it involves walking in the park in the dark, seeing a ghost, walking under a ladder, putting new shoes on the table, or writing good lyrics. I just hope she wrote this song on a dare.

Honorable mentions in the Worst Lyrics category go to Jimmy Webb for MacArthur Park and Alanis Morissette for Ironic.



MacArthur park is melting in the dark (oh no, a park in the dark?! I hope Des'ree wasn't in there!)
All the sweet green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don't think that I can take it
'cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again!
OH NOOOOOOOO!




As many other people have noted, the only ironic thing about this song is that it's called 'Ironic', is supposed to be about irony but features very few examples of irony. Ed Byrne does a great bit on this:

A Farewell To My Taste In Music

Today's two main problems - I have been up since 8am cleaning the house (very distressed as I had to throw my bathmat out - it was getting impossible to clean) and I've spent this morning listening to Journey.

Symptoms

So here I am. It's a lovely sunny Sunday afternoon and I'm sitting in my flat eating my dinner, contemplating cleaning and preparing to go back up to those north-eastern wastelands to stay with my mum over Easter. I will, of course, be getting the train, because I can't drive. Even if I could drive, I wouldn't be able to afford to drive. Even if I could afford to drive, I'd still crash the car somehow, or lock myself out.

In America, it seems really unusual to not be able to drive when you're in your twenties, but I think it's quite common over here. My inability to drive rarely manifests itself as a symptom of my quarter-life crisis.

One thing that does make me go "OH GOD WHY IS MY LIFE NOT WHERE IT SHOULD BE?!" is my diary. I have two diaries - one little one for every day appointments and what-not and one work one, that never gets used. It is the latter that causes me distress. It's pale pink with a lovely fuzzy image of a puppy on the front, and it looks lovely and sweet, but it's evil.

On the first two pages, there's a section called Personal Memoranda and another called Useful Contacts. They include spaces for useful information, such as:

Passport number (my passport expired about five years ago)

National Insurance number (aha! Well, I've definitely got one of these, if only by virtue of the fact that I'm over 16, and I even know where my card is!)

Vehicle data (nope)

Credit Card information (giving me a credit card would be dangerous)

Savings Account number (one of those things I keep meaning to get but failing to do so)

Current Account number (I definitely have one of these, although judging by the state of it, that's not necessarily a good thing)

And the useful contacts section includes spaces for me to put the number of my accountant, my alarm company (my only contact with any alarm company was when the fire alarm went off in my house and a strange little man who was visiting the flat downstairs and had set the alarm off in the first place put me on the phone to someone and made me figure it all out before slamming the door in my face), building society, gym, office, solicitor - very useful, but I have none of these things! Instead of worrying that I don't have BMW or a widescreen television, should I be worrying thatI don't have an accountant or a solicitor? It's like every time I open my diary (very rarely, as I have nothing to put in it), I feel failure staring me in the face. Hidden behind those big, melted chocolate puppy dog eyes is pure evil. The words in my diary are like those of a disappointed pushy parent.

Another thing that has concerned me lately is that I have found myself buying teabags. I have never been a tea drinker, but I have found myself gratefully accepting cuppas at friends' houses, not just to be polite, but because I actually want a cup of tea. And the next thing I know, I'm in Tesco buying teabags, not for guests, but for myself.

I've also taken to reading those little catalogue supplement things you get in magazines. What are they even called? They come in the TV magazine and the weekly women's magazines, which I'm ashamed to admit are the only magazines I read on a regular basis. These little supplements sometimes advertise special wide-fitting shoes, lap-trays with farmyard scenes and paintings of flowers on their wipe-clean surfaces and hideous blankets with distressed looking Westies on them. I read these ones partly to laugh at the things they sell, and also partly to have a strange, and very, very secret desire to actually BUY some of them. Why?! The other kind is less concerning - the supplements that also have the wide-fitting shoes, but also have clothes. Not amazing clothes, just nice, everyday clothes in a wide range of colours. This wouldn't be something to be concerned about, had I not just suggested 'nice, everyday clothes in a wide range of colours' was a good thing.

Oh, also, I now get excited about towels, bedding and kitchen utensils.

That is what my life has become and I have nothing to show for it except an impressive collection of cheap and uncomfortable shoes and a lot of spatulas.

The Roaring Twenties

That's what they called the decade. Well, so far, I'm all of 22 and it seems like I've spent the entire last two years roaring - but not in a good way.

I am a student suffering the misfortune of graduating in 2009, struggling to find a job, somewhere to live and some sort of healthy relationship, all in between deadlines.

On March 5th, I lost an election. Had I won, I would have had a full-time job for the next year and everything would be fine - until, of course, I started this whole process again then. That evening, I drank a lot of wine, cried, fell down the stairs and stumbled home with messy hair and smudged makeup, where I proceeded to fall into bed. I sobbed my way through an Alternative Media lecture the next day and watched, almost surprised, as the world carried on turning around me.

As it tends to do, after a few days of occasional crying fits, lots of moping and a less than thrilling shift in a call centre, life went on as usual. My mum sent me some chocolate through the post, which was nice.

So now, here I am, almost a month later, at 3:22am, scouring the internet 'looking for' and 'applying for' jobs, which really translates to blogging and drinking alone. I make sure just to buy Lambrini - I can't waste my money on proper wine. It's quite strange that it's 3:22am, considering we had no 1am-1:59am. I think the first sign of aging is complaining that you've lost an hour of sleep when the clocks go forward, and tragically, I have begun to do this.

The second sign, quite possibly, is this insane broodiness I've been feeling lately. I suspect this has been sparked by all the old school friends I've added on Facebook - at least half of them have kids now. The sensible part of me knows that I don't want a baby yet - after all, what on earth would I do with it? I'd probably accidentally put it in the washing machine and just hope it got nice and dry on the spin cycle, because I don't have a tumble dryer and I can hardly drape it over the clothes horse.

This blog exists for me to rant and ramble about the every day goings on - interviews, deadlines, graduation, and all the silly little thoughts that go through my head.

The 'quarter-life crisis' is apparently enough of a phenomonen to have its own Wikipedia page and over 200 thousand results on Google, so I'm here to document mine.