Hello again

Hurrah, it’s the end of term and I’ve given up on the library and any form of productive work and wearing nice clothes and buying healthy food and eating anything other than marks and spencer’s chocolate biscuits. I know this is okay because it’s the time of year when marks and spencer’s extremely chocolately biscuit selection is on offer. Here I have documented the current state of my life in meme form. 

What my friends think I do:

Read all the books in the world

Make a list

Snack too much

Have fun

What my parents think I do:

Spend an unnecessary amount of money in M&S

Spend an unnecessary amount of time making lists

What society thinks I do:

Drink alcohol on a school night

Listen to drum and bass music

Fester in an unhealthy pit of dirt and squalor

Drive dangerously

Cycle dangerously

Sleep

What my tutors think I do:

Not enough

What I think I do:

Too much

What I actually do:

Sit in the library doing nothing

Make a list

Watch Home and Away

Play on photobooth

Spend too much money in M&S

Observe my books

Download music illegally

Read all the books in the world

Remember to charge my phone

Forget what happens in all the books in the world

Spend money

Never make decisions

Make a list

Make tea

Snack too much

Accumulate large library fines

Go on Daily Mail

Paint my nails

Spend money

Make Google translate say funny things

Daydream about all the greats things that are going to happen to me in life

Freak out because daydreaming won’t necessarily deliver

Make a list

Decide to start my work

Post a blog

Maybe I'm just high-maintenance

(Correct me if I’m wrong but…)

Is it ever actually okay to type noisily in the library? I just think that people need to reassess things (such as life) when they are so angry that they start attacking their keyboard in the silent study section of the frickin’ library.

When you submit an ‘absence notification form’ on the university portal, do they really expect you to know already when your illness will end? I vote we introduce an ‘indefinitely’ button.

Does it really need to rain all the time?

Am I the only person who understands the concept of a silent study area in a library, where you have to be silent and not talk and not eat doritos and not use your phone and not listen to music so loudly that we can all hear Rihanna screaming “giddy up, giddy up, giddy up babe”? Not today thank you, and certainly not here in the silent study section of the library ever.

Will I ever know how much rice is the right amount for one person?

Why is a 30mph speed limit never adhered to? #hydepark #chilloutwithyourshittycarsandblaringmusicandstoprunningchildrenover

And also, why do cyclists think it’s okay to terrorize both the roads AND the pavements? If you’re so keen to be eco-friendly, can you at least do it slowly and safely, and respect those of us who wish to walk?

Whilst we’re on the subject of trafficking problems, I do believe it might become necessary to introduce a “pavement etiquette” class at school, owing the ridiculous inabilities of so many of the British public to be polite on the streets. Rules ought to include:

moving out of the way for mums+children+shopping+pushchairs

no spitting (this seems to be a northern thing – sorry but it’s true)

no dominating (don’t walk four in a row holding hands, it’s just not fair)

if it’s raining, you should let people into shops first, not make them wait outside whilst you assemble your hood/umbrella/life in the doorway

Should library fines really exist? (I actually vote yes for this, but it’s still rather annoying when you have to pay them off)

Why are the chocolate brownies in the Parkinson café so absolutely mind-blowingly delicious?

Why do pigeons actually exist?

Will I ever learn that leaving my essays until the last minute and then blogging to further my procrastination is not a good idea?

Bosoms, bosoms

I found this hand-written poem tucked inside my second-hand copy of The Penguin Book of Contemporary Verse. Unsurprisingly it is anonymous (as much as I would like to say it is my own genius). Many congratulations to the poet, who has technically met with fame at last.

Bosoms, bosoms, bouncing, bare

Down the bush paths everywhere

What immortal hand or eye

Framed thy matchless symmetry?

Bosoms vast and bosoms trim,

Bosoms sleek and bosoms firm,

Bosoms large and bosoms tiny,

Bosoms warm and round and shiny,

Bosoms petite and bosoms bold,

Bosoms pendulous and cold.

Sugar plums and acid drops

Naafi teacups, razor strops

What a study in the nude,

Overpowering, rather rude.

O, to see again one fair

Damsel, in a brassiere!

ANON.

Driving Advising

I recently took a trip up to the north, which is a considerable journey so I feel I have seen a great enough representation of our nation’s driving abilities to generalize a little. Some advice is in order.

Please indicate when you wish to change lanes. Please don’t change lanes abruptly/dangerously. Please don’t throw apple cores/cigarette ends out of your window. Please don’t pick your nose visibly. Please refrain from placing large, bare, hairy feet on the dashboard by the window. Please do not play drum and bass at full volume. Please remove all nodding-dogs, hats and boxes of tissues from your parcel shelf. Please do not park your car on a bend of a fast road. Please do not ride bicycles in the middle of the road/veer sporadically into the middle of the road. When you stop for a lunch break, please look around before you start reversing into your parking spot and please take care not to urinate on the seat in the service station (girls, seriously what is going on?). Please migrate into the middle lane when cars are joining the motorway at a junction. Please move out of the middle lane if you are not overtaking cars in the left-hand lane. Please do not overtake in the wrong lanes – if these things are happening, the motorway is being used incorrectly. Please try not to lose a bag/shoe/jumper out of your window – I have never seen this happen but am curious to know how these objects end up on the edge of the road. Please stop at all red lights (taxis and buses, you are no exception). Please go at green lights. If you are not in a vehicle, please do not run out into the middle of the road. And finally, I would recommend that you please review the Highway Code.

The Elastoplast Error

Yesterday, I had a dinner party. When I was preparing the food, I accidentally stabbed myself with a metal skewer and it made a small hole in my arm. Then I decided it would be nice to have some flowers at the table so I popped out to the florist, and when I picked up a bunch of roses a thorn punctured my finger. When I got home, I realized I had left my pet rabbit out in the garden. He only has one tooth, and when I tried to pick him up, he bit my leg and drew blood the sly dog. In my surprise, I stepped backwards and I stood on a wasp which in turn stung me (fair enough). Then I decided I needed to write something down but I fell over whilst I was carrying my pen and the nib pierced my stomach. All in all, it wasn’t the most successful day, but I survived.

None of the above actually happened (nor do I own a rabbit with one tooth), but I just thought I would provide a list of the individual uses of the small, round plasters that you get in your average multipack. Those were the only possible causes I could think of that might benefit from such an insignificant band-aid. The ratio of normal plasters to entirely impractical sticky circles is all wrong. I am no mathematician, but I can guarantee that the majority of the cases listed above are unlikely to happen that often, and if/when they do, the average wo/man will survive without the aid of a ‘waterproof’, ‘natural-coloured’ plaster. You can observe this for yourselves now by simply looking in your designated plaster storage space and working out the ratio of useful:useless plasters. In short, I think I speak for the nation when I say I rather think they're a waste of time and we'd be better off sticking them together and getting two extra big plasters per box.

A Half-Blog

I thought, since my exams finished long ago, I cancelled my gym membership and I moved back home, that my number of blog posts would increase rapidly; I hardly have anything more productive to do with my time. But I have realized this is exactly my problem. I am so lazy and so unmotivated to do the necessary things in life, I realized that the only reason I blog is to procrastinate, and now I have nothing to procrastinate from, I am procrastinating from blogging. I am here today because I am going on holiday at 4am tomorrow and I haven’t packed yet.

It seems that the less I do, the less energy I have and over the last couple of weeks I have just about mustered half a blog post for everything that annoys me. So, to make my life a little bit easier, here are some short sentences about things that have pushed my buttons recently.

I redecorated my room and it took a really long time and it was really boring and most of the paint seemed to end up in my hair or in my radiator as opposed to on my walls.

I found out that you have to pay a lot of money to volunteer abroad which, in my eyes, defeats the exact point of helping people for free, because other people are making money out of it.

I saw an advert (quite a few times) that claimed that the new Samsung Galaxy S3 understands you, it shares what’s in your heart, it keeps track of loved ones, it recognizes who you are, it follows your every move, it sees your best side, it shares the warmth of nature, it waits till you’re asleep and then the advert ends which is a shame because that was turning into a pretty good thriller about a psychopathic stalker.

Also, what is with all of these “reality tv” shows, which apparently are not legitimately classified as reality anymore, and have been renamed “structured reality”? The bigger question at hand is if you’re going to turn reality into a drama anyway, why is it still so boring?

And finally, I would like to point out the flaws in the statement “make tea, not war”. Making tea in my household is an unspoken war and creates and maintains everyday tension between each member of my family (first world problems, right?). There is an assumed rule that when you make a hot beverage for yourself, you have to offer everyone else too and four out of five of my family members will automatically say yes please. If we estimate that to make one cup of tea takes approximately 3 minutes (including boiling the kettle), it is fair to assume that making four cups of tea will take considerably longer (I am not going to insert an exact figure here because it technically adds minimal time to the task, but that is not the point I am making). The point I am making appears to be that I am either incredibly selfish or incredibly lazy.

In my defence, if painting wasn’t so boring, if volunteering didn’t cost so much money, if I had that new phone that can replace the necessity of human interaction, if someone would insert more stage directions than awkward pause into Made In Chelsea, and if I had a maid to make my tea, then maybe I wouldn’t always be so bored. (I incidentally read an article about boredom the other day and there is such a thing as “chronic boredom” but I took the test at the end and had very average results so I know you’re all thinking the same things as me).

A trip to town: a review

With the revision period upon us I have had a few excursions into Leeds city centre in recent weeks. This has led me to make the following observations. I have also installed a rating system to thoroughly convey my unnecessary judgement and criticism of the everyday people I am surrounded by.

1 = ought to be banned from the use of public places/generally leaving the house

10 = a perfect unobtrusive shopping companion

Group #1

Any man/woman with a pram and/or any other small children. A large group of offenders who struggle (in vain) to control their herds of children so that in turn they do not notice quite how much they are getting in everyone else’s way with their silly state-of-the-art-and-over-priced push chairs and mass of Marks and Spencer’s shopping bags.

6/10 – to be fair, it’s not entirely their fault.

Group #2

Scores of children who I’m sure ought to be at school. Life qualifications besides the GCSEs they are not getting include:

• A strong commitment to the cause and to generally gaining the attention of those surrounding them.
• Enthusiasm and encouragement – creating a lot of noise and getting everybody involved.
• The ability to work well in a team.
• Reliability. They will always be there.

2/10 – if you are aware of your children/siblings doing this, please lock them up.

Group #3

Slow walkers. PLEASE. We are here because we have things to do today, not tomorrow.

4/10 – only because I feel this might be a slightly hypocritical judgement, otherwise it would be 1.

Group #4

Meanderers. Probably the worst category to be anywhere near. We’ve all encountered them. They’re the ones that make you look like an idiot – they walk at exactly the same pace as you and just slightly in front of you. You have to do an awkward skip/jog/walk to overtake and just at the crucial moment when you’re almost parallel to them, they swerve into the bloody fast lane and cut you up for everyone to see. Piss off, nobody wants you here.

0/10 – and only because my scale doesn’t go lower than that.

Group #5

The young professionals. General busy-bodies who think they’re worlds ahead of you just because they have a briefcase and a take-out coffee. More often than not they can be found talking slightly more loudly than is necessary into their company telephones and they walk with a distinct air of arrogance. One day I will knock into you and spill your coffee.

You score 6/10 – in their defence, they have actually got a job so they’re currently doing better than me.

Group #6

Weird unnecessary hands-free phone people. Two types – those who talk into headsets and those who listen to music out loud. Yeah you walk down the street with all that swag and your magic phone but you don’t realize that you listen to shit music and you look like twat.

4/10 – it’s so bizarre that they might have a social disorder so I feel bad scoring any lower than that.

Group #7

Charity workers/general do-gooders. They make you feel inadequate not only because you are not volunteering like they are, but also because you can’t afford to donate £1 a month to those less fortunate than you, despite the fact you are out on an entirely self-indulgent shopping spree with money that is not your own and is meant to be spent on food and rent.

9/10 – because I am projecting self-hatred onto good people.

Moral of the story is: go back to the library.

Life's Biggest Questions

Why are there so many raisins in Fruit’n’Fibre?

Why are crop tops in fashion?

Why do people who sit in “silent study” not understand the meaning of “silent study”?

Why is my train delayed?

Why is there no money in my bank account?

Why did that person not respond to my friend request?

Why does American Apparel sell “disco leggings”?

Why do people buy “disco leggings”?

Why is my phone bill always more than it’s meant to be?

Why do some men use hands-free when they’re walking down the street?

Why is it not okay to have a teddy bear any more?

How does the kitchen get dirty so quickly?

Who invented dry shampoo? (I want to praise them)

Why did Ovid write so much?

Why does Britain not have any talent?

Who numbered the lecture theatres in Roger Stevens?

Why am I not revising?

Why does McDonald’s not do delivery?

Why did Busted break up?

Why can you actually not stop once you pop a pringle?

Why do insects always attack me?

Why are Marmite lids always sticky?

Who hates Marmite?

Why has no one from Home and Away proposed to me yet?

Why is it still raining?

Why do estate agents never do what they say they’re going to do?

How many types of pasta are there?

How do slugs get into the kitchen?

Who hates the population enough to compose the Go Compare song?

What is in a chicken nugget?

How have we already run out of toilet roll?

Why is toilet roll so expensive?

Why is this true – concentration span of aphid > concentration span of me.

When will I stop procrastinating?

How to spend a day in the library and not do any work

Walk to uni slowly.

Go the union shop first to stock up on library food supplies (don’t underestimate this step, I would recommend it even if you don’t want to waste time).

Press every button in the lift to prolong the journey to silent study level 13.

Go to the toilet.

Take your time to choose a seat – do a couple of laps to assess if necessary.

Just trying to be quiet slows you down. Taking books and pens out of your bag silently should waste a few minutes.

OCD is important. Order your files and books in size order and line up any other stationary accordingly.

Go to the toilet.

Check your phone and reply to any texts/emails that you haven’t responded to yet.

Stare into space.

If you have twitter, check twitter and tweet something.

If you don’t have twitter, make a twitter account.

Reply to any texts you may have received.

Go to the toilet.

Update facebook status.

Congratulations! It’s break time. Go and get a cup of tea/coffee.

When you return, shuffle up books and pens. Then re-organise.

Organize your diary/phone calendar.

Play with some flash cards – make some origami/just pass notes.

Hurrah it’s lunch time!

Listen to music and pretend you’re starring in the music video.

Tweet something. Update facebook status. Send texts.

Write a blog.

Go to the toilet.

Walk round the library pretending to look for a book. Pick up a few and place on your table triumphantly.

Check phone.

Play hottie in the library (http://hottieinthelibrary.com/).

Stare into space.

Go to the toilet.

Look through every single photo on your phone and reminisce about the good old days.

Peruse the books you picked up.

Take them back.

Stare into space.

Tweet something. Text someone asking them to ring you.

Pack up your things.

When your phone rings, it looks like you are being forced to leave, preserving your credibility as an student.

The plane journey

I’ve just been on holiday. It really was fantastic, but it’s such a shame it had to include a flight. We arrived at the airport four hours in advance of our flight (serious organization/some slight time confusion), and although everybody raves about duty free, it really isn’t that interesting. We managed to buy a few things and we ate a lot to pass the time. We boarded our flight, stood in the aisles for too long waiting for other people to put their luggage in the overhead lockers. Found our own seats, decided who was to sit where, waited for a gap in the stream of aisle-traffic and then proceeded to block it by putting our luggage in the overhead lockers. Sat down, put seat belt on, watched the rest of the passengers find their seats, assessed how annoying we thought they’d be, located children and babies, and perused the on-board catalogue of more duty free items that we didn’t want/need. We were now ready to arrive at our destination. We waited for what must have been a further five minutes. Then at last the plane moved, hurrah! We proceeded to the runway. Ten minutes later we were STILL proceeding to the runway. Eventually we actually took off, but the waiting was not over yet. By this point, the on-board catalogue has been read twice, all the hard-boiled sweets have been eaten and the seat-belt sign is still on so we still can’t listen to music/recline our chairs/go to the toilet. The air hostesses don’t even perform the safety information anymore because it is always shown on the little tv screens. There is such anticipation for the moment when the seat-belt sign turns off. But to what avail? The on-board entertainment system takes half an hour to “teach you how to use it” and by this time, the cabin crew have decided it is time for a complimentary bag of salted peanuts, a drink and that it’s suddenly night time; the blinds are shut and the lights are turned off (there does not seem to be any concept of time on a long-haul flight, except that it is never-ending). By and large, everyone gives up and goes to sleep. HOW? How do people sleep on an aeroplane? Even when I am unbearably tired, when I’ve counted approximately 1475 sheep, when I’ve listened to my “chilled & sleepy” playlist on repeat, I cannot slip into blissful slumber. Invariably, just when I am at my ultimate peak of relaxation, my senses are abused by the smell of “breakfast”. Egg is always included (I have no idea, nor do I particularly want to know how it is cooked). Anyway, eventually time passes, and you’ve landed and you’re on holiday and it’s fine – you forget instantly how bad the flight was (I hear childbirth is like this, but I think that might be an urban myth). Then suddenly the holiday is over and not only have you got to do the whole trip in reverse, but your destination is not even fun. The flight home symbolizes the return to a slightly stale smelling house, to working, to paying bills, to wearing coats (if you’re returning to England), to everything you came on holiday to escape. On the plus side, you sometimes have some interesting post, you understand the language and you get to make a new facebook photo album to show off all the cool things you did whilst you were away.