New Thing # 22

Date:- July 31st 2009
New Thing:- buy something from Etsy.

Etsy is a crafty version of Ebay. All the items are handmade. Ever since I found out about it I've been itching to buy something, but I've been carefully avoiding even looking on the site. I had a (turns out quite accurate) suspicion that if I started looking I'd never stop.

Then I followed a link from one of the blogs I read to a button maker on Etsy and wham! Completely in love. New Thing # 22 completed. I just purchased some absolutely delicious buttons.

These ones are the ones from the seller I first landed on. These ones I found during the subsequent three hours of browsing.

Just in case those links go away at some point, here are the pictures...

New Thing # 21

Date:- July 10th 2009 (sorry for the delay)
New Thing:- own an iPod.

I haven't done a new thing in a while, so I'm just slipping this one in here. It's quite cool, considering that my last new thing was to swap iPod contents with someone. It links quite nicely.

I have never owned an iPod. I've avoided them, they seem like a fad. I've had mp3 players of varying types and sizes, but never an iPod. Then my lovely boyfriend brought me one for my birthday. See this entry.

He's insistent that I should put music on it, but I already have a very nice mp3 player full of my music, so I'm kinda keeping it as a general applications gadget. I've already downloaded many many free apps. Including some downright silly ones....

Not counselling

Today I had the counselling appointment that my GP referred me for after I asked him oh so long ago. I talked about going to see him in this post.

I don't normally go to counselling appointments. I have on many occasions been referred to counsellors and therapists and psychologists. I have a tendency to attend one appointment, come out feeling a million times worse and never going back. If I even go to the initial appointment. I am very very good at deciding I'm all well and don't actually need the therapy. But, my darling N threatened to stop taking his antidepressants if I didn't go. And that would be very very bad, so off I scuttled.

I set the alarm for ten, even though my appointment wasn't until one. When I woke up I got up, dressed and left the house in ten minutes (before I was even properly awake) because I knew that if I took time to think about it, I wouldn't go. I rode the buses around randomly for a few hours before finally heading in to the appointment.

The therapist looked like an old friend I don't particularly like very much, and while she went to find a free room I very nearly used that excuse to make a quick getaway. Any excuse will do when I'm avoiding things. But I didn't. I stayed. And I went into the session.

DB was lovely, despite her unfortunate similarities to the ex-friend. She didn't make me cry, which was the important thing. And, it turns out that I don't have to go back! Which would be horribly difficult for me to keep doing. Follow-up sessions are on the phone. Yay! Also, it's not counselling. It's cognitive behavioural therapy. It's not for rehashing everything that's a mess in my life. It's for changing the way I think to change the way I feel to change the things I do. Or something like that.

I had to fill in a few of those tests. How do you feel when this happens? How often do you feel like this? How often do you do that? Blah blah. And then DB gave me some booklets to read, and some worksheets to fill out. I even have homework :D

We're going to work on overcoming my fears and paranoias and panic attacks. Begin with getting off crowded buses instead of staying on past my stop 'til it empties and then getting another bus back. She says one of my goals will be to be able to go into a lecture late. So my current home is to get on and off buses. Lol.

A Small Rant

I left home at sixteen, and have been living alone ever since. For a long time I was in a YWCA in Southampton, and I was in the YMCA in Stoke for 9 months. There were a zillion people in the buildings with me, and I shared a kitchen in Southampton. Those were not good times. But I've had four homes of my own.

At some point last year, I realised that despite the loving company of my adorable (and much missed) pussy cat, Gadget, living alone was not helping my depression. I would have a wonderful day at university and socialising with my friends, and within minutes of coming home my depression would kick in. I decided to move into a shared home. I ended up here in Hartshill in an absolutely beautiful house. It's a huge, gorgeous house in a perfect location and I love it. I have three housemates currently. The final room has been promised to GKL's boyfriend for the next uni year. Having housemates helps. I don't overly socialise with them. I will stop and have a chat with NW and I'll say hi to JL even though I don't particularly like him. I do spend a lot of time alone in my room, but having the people around helps my depression. I don't come home to an empty house every day.

However...

Recently my loner desires have been making a comeback. Certain aspects of living in a shared house are driving me nuts. My current five-year plan involves graduating and then moving to Preston to be with N, and I really can't afford to move another two times in two years. I've already moved twice in the last 16 months. If it wasn't for N though, I swear to all my dear readers that I would move out of this place as soon as I got back from America in the new year.

Last night I came home from a week at N's house, and found my house empty. Two of the kitchen cupboard doors were open, the bathroom light was on, my private toilet paper stash (DO NOT get me started on the toilet paper wars) that I kept in my room had been raided. Someone had been into my room and taken my belongings! Ok, it was only toilet roll, but that isn't really the point.

About an hour ago I went downstairs to get some dinner and feed the dog while NW is away at a stag party. The back door was wide open, even though no one is the house apart from me. Whoever opened it didn't check that I was in before they left the house leaving the back door wide open. I put a pie in the microwave, and opened my cupboard to grab some baked beans to serve with it. No beans. Someone has been eating my food. The kitchen is also a mess.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not exactly a neat and tidy person. When I had my own homes they were definitely cluttered, but there is a big difference to living amongst one's own clutter, and coming home to make one's dinner amongst other people's mess.

A few bullet points.

- I hate going to reach for a fork and finding not only the drawer empty, but there being none on the draining board or even waiting to be washed because people take them to their room and don't bring them back.

- I hate entering the kitchen to find one of my bowls (which I keep in MY cupboard) sat by the sink waiting to be washed after someone else has taken it out of my cupboard to use it.

- I hate going to do the washing up and finding no clean sponges, but twelve gross and black sponges to do the washing up with.

- I hate checking the post pile by the front door and finding other people's mail that they haven't collected because it's obviously junk. IF YOU DON'T WANT IT, BIN IT!

- Even worse than that, I hate that people open their post and then put it back on the bloody pile! Or leave it laying around. Why can't they at least take it to their rooms?

- I hate people who leave the bathroom light on (or any lights on) with the fan still going.

- I hate people who put notes up in the kitchen asking for baking trays not to be left on the hob, and then tell ME off for continuing to do it, even though I don't use the sodding baking trays. I don't care who keeps doing it, but I do NOT like being blamed for things I haven't done.

- I hate that people enter my room, and my cupboard, and use my things without my permission.

There are many, many, MANY more things I hate about living in a shared house. Of course, this is the only shared house I've lived in (aside from a one-month stint in a shared house in Basingstoke). Perhaps other houses have more rules, and more common decency for housemates, I don't know. But I do know that I miss living alone.

At least when I live with N I'll be able to talk to him, and we can settle our own ways of working together. Here, if I bring up any issues, I get huffed off, or ignored, or lectured for not being a good housemate myself.

If I fail my history resit, and get sent home from America, I'm not going to have the enthusiasm or even much desire to finish my degree. It's highly likely that I'll just give up and move straight to Preston. As it is, if things continue as they are here or get any worse, it's highly likely that I'll be moving in January anyway. It doesn't matter if I can afford it or not, when has finances ever stopped me doing anything?

Yarn, a Civil War, N and Some Drugs

First up some knitting news. There's this great site called Ravelry. This is not news, not to those of you who knit or crochet anyway. I recently joined Ravelry and was browsing through the swaps groups. I'd either just missed all the sign up deadlines, or the budget was too expensive for me, so I went ahead and set up two of my own.

This one is a purple themed swap, for people who are as nutty about purple as I am. And this one is a low budget one I've created. If you knit or crochet or sew, or any type of craft actually, come join!

In other news, I've now done major revision for two main American wars. The Revolution and the Civil War. I realised that the four sections I've chosen to revise for the reassessment exam (which, btw, is on August 11) are all wars. Is it co-incidence, or just me being a bloodthirsty wench? Who knows. I'm nearly done with the Civil War section now. Lincoln had been shot, the Confederates have surrendered, everyone has saluted each other, Thirteenth Amendment blah blah blah. Just one more aftermath chapter to go, then I can move on to World War II.

I'm kinda glad I didn't start my essay after the Revolution section. Last week in the post I received a new module document from the Humanities office. They'd sent me last year's, and the essay titles I was considering were now invalid. D'oh! I've decided I'm going to wait until I've typed up all four sections and do the essay on whichever I'm least happy with, as I'll be able to use outside resources. That'll leave me with my three strongest subjects for a two question exams. Simple. In theory.

I've said it before and I'll say it again - lesson learned! I'm going to start going to flipping lectures!!

I've had a good week. I came up to Leyland to see N after the Brownie theatre trip on Saturday. His parents are on holiday so he had the week booked off work. It's been nice to be with him. Despite what people sometimes think of us, we haven't been having sex constantly. In fact, I don't think we've had sex since early Monday morning. We wake up - well he wakes up first and sits at his computer playing until I wake up. We cuddle a bit, then he goes to his game and I sit on his bed with my laptop. He'll get on with his games and his anime, I'll get on with my blog checking (current count 60, not including facebook, twitter and ravelry) and my history work. We basically ignore each other, lol. Apart from occasional cuddles, and he'll turn to me and check I'm okay and give me a kiss and rub my foot or whatever every so often. Sometimes we curl up on the bed or the sofa to watch a movie. We've finally finished watching Battlestar Galactica - crappy ending. We have breakfast, and lunch, and dinner and supper. I've been eating sensibly, and not binging, which is always good. N calls our current status quo being "domestic". I'm not sure it's quite how I picture "domestic", but I'm happy with it. I like being around him.

And although I'm exhausted - sitting in sweltering heat and typing up a brick-sized history book, watching twelvty hundred episodes of Come Dine With Me, kissing a handsome nerd, and knitting a scarf (Oh! A) Knitting a scarf in sweltering July is NOT fun and B) who knew how bloody difficult it was to be random on purpose) is bloody exhausting - I've been sleeping well. N's bed is wonderful. He has that memory foam thing mattress, and deliciously soft sheets - I'm going to root around for the label tomorrow, I wanna know what they're made of, cos it sure as hell isn't my standard sheets. I sleep well even when I have nightmares. Being near N, even though we don't sleep in the same room here, makes me feel more secure and happy in myself. It's a good thing. Plus, he's lasted a whole 5 days of my company. By the time I go home tomorrow I'll have been here almost six days, which I think is the longest time we've ever spent together. Normally my constant company grates on him after a few days (I think anyone's company does, not just mine), but we've done well this time. He had a very very very minor blip the other day, but it was gone almost as soon as it arrived.

Finally, a little bit of good news. Sort of. Fluoxetine - the wonderful prozac type anti-depressant - is more than a little bit responsible for the return and status quo of the N that I fell in love with and the locking away of the distant moodswinging sod I keep breaking up with. A few weeks ago I found out that his doctor hasn't put him on a repeat prescription and I've been terrified that said doctor will take him off the drugs and he'll go back to being the moodswinging sod. GKL and I have had (only very slightly joking) conversations about hunting down the doctor and threatening him to keep N on the drugs, or pleading, or breaking down and crying about how much I love drugged-up N. But there's no need, because this morning N went to see said doctor and he's been put on a repeat prescription for a year. Yay for drugs!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to sleep. Memory foam and the smell of N calls to me. Goodnight, all.

My Trip to London

Last Friday I went to London to get my Visa. Before I start telling you about my weird and wonderful day, let's get the important bit out of the way. I WAS APPROVED! In fact, my Visa was delivered to my Mum's house this morning. There is now nothing stopping me going to America. Even if I fail my history exam and get sent back in September, I will still have been to America. So YAY!!

On to the interestingness of my day.

I'd planned to sleep on the overnight coach, but couldn't get comfortable so I sat up alternately reading an admiring the countryside. I saw a tanning shop called "Son of a Beach" which made me laugh. I like funny shop names. Somewhere along the M40 between Oxford and London we went through some white clifftype things that edged the motorway and got hit by a major pang of homesickness for Hampshire. There's a part of the M3 like that between Basingstoke and Southampton. As we were entering London I saw two cars with vanity plates parked in a driveway. One was "2 B" and the other was "Not 2 B". Had me giggling for quite a while. Other interesting sights from the day included traffic cones on top of a bus shelter, papparazzi waiting outside the Royal Courts of Justice (I have no idea who for), Japanese tourists wearing those medical face masks, and Abe Lincoln. Oh, and a cemetary in Chelsea that was advertising an upcoming open day. An open day in a cemetary? Colour me intrigued.

The embassy wasn't as bad as I was expecting. I joined the queue at half seven, seconds before about two hundred people joined up, and was out of there by half nine. There were lots of scary policemen wandering around with guns though, which was a bit intimidating. Kind of the point, I suppose.

I've decided I want to add something to my Bucket List. I'd like to stay, for at least one night, in a ridiculously posh hotel. By "posh" I mean the ones with doormen in funny uniforms, and bellboys pushing about cage shaped luggage trolleys. The sort of place that'd make me feel completely uncomfortable within two minutes. There are a lot of them in London. Lots of silly uniforms.

After coming out of the embassy I had 9 hours to kill before my coach home, so I did my usual and got on a random bus. I picked up the Metro newspaper from the seat in front of me, flicked through a bit, and was confronted with this....



That says: "We Are Coming. Meet the Torchwood Team Today! DVD Signing at HMV, 150 Oxford St, London, Between 12.30 - 2pm* *fans can pick up free wristbands at HMV 150 Oxford St which allow entry to the DVD signing. 250 wristbands will be available only from HMV 150 Oxford St from 9.am on Friday 17th July onwards. One wristband per customer maximum. In person only. While stocks last. Subject to availability, at participating store only."

I may have squealed on a public bus. I wasn't that far from Oxford St, and it was only just gone half nine, but I was heading in the wrong direction, so I hopped off and changed buses and headed to HMV. I was number 272 :-( So no seeing the Torchwood people. I love Captain Jack, but John Barrowman is an idiot. I really wanted to meet Ianto though. I suffocated my disappointment and got on another bus. Continued to flip through the Metro and found this...



That one was an advert for the London Film and Comic Con, on Saturday 18th and Sunday 19th July. Stars including Eve Myles, Scott Bakula, Tom Baker, Jewel Straite, Danny John Jules, James and Oliver Phelps and... get this. Chewbacca! I'm not a big fan of Star Wars, but it was Chewbacca!!!! I looked again at the date and kicked myself. I was so tempted to "accidentally" miss my coach home and go camp out in front of Earls Court. If I hadn't had a Brownie theatre trip on the Saturday I think it's highly likely that I would have gone through with it. I WILL be going next year.

After my second bitter disappointment I put down the Metro and got off the bus. I'd like to recommend to everyone a wonderful little cafe outside Victoria Station. It's called Victoria Cafe and I believe it's run by a little Polish man and his daughter, and they make the best sausage sandwiches I've had in decades. Yummy. Definitely remembering that place.

I filled out the rest of my day watching Ice Age 3 at a cinema in Chelsea (and feeling like a dirty old woman being the only adult there without a small child, until a little old Asian man walked in alone) and walking past a Paperchase six times before convincing myself that I really did need that lovely black scrapbook. It's for my USM experience, so extremely vital. Naturally.

I ended up not sleeping on the coach home either. I had my knee pressed against the netted pocket on the back of the seat in front of me the whole way, and my leg twisted under my seat. I remember wondering if, if the bus crashed and my leg shattered into pieces, would they still let me into America wearing a leg cast? I have my priorities straight, obviously.

A bit of cute video humor for you...

The Most Pointless Blog Ever

I was browsing IMDB and came across some guy who was born on October 13, and because I'm very very sad I thought "ooo, my birthday is only 9 days after that". So because, like I said, I'm very very sad, I had to see who was born on my birthday. Cue half an hour of googling and other sophisticated research to present the following ridiculously pointless blog...

People born on October 22nd

- Jonathon Lipnicki 1990
- Zac Hanson 1985
- Wes Van Dyke 1984 (aka Dick Van Dyke's grandson)
- Cleo Horsburgh 1982 (aka ME!)
- Saffron Burrows 1972
- Benjamin Brat 1969 (aka porn star)
- Spike Jonze 1969
- Shaggy 1968
- Marvin Bush 1956 (aka Dubya's brother)
- Jeff Goldblum 1952
- Deepak Chopra
- Catherine Deneuve 1943
- Jan de Bont 1943
- Derek Jacobi 1938
- Christopher Lloyd 1938 (as in the Doc!!!)
- Joan Fontaine 1917
- Curly Howard 1903 (of The Stooges)
- Franz Liszt 1811
- Sarah Bernhardt 1844
- Daniel Boone 1734

People married on October 22nd

- Steffi Graf and Andre Agassi 2001
- Suzi Quatro and Rainer Haas 1993
- Michael Crichton and Suzanne Childs 1981

People who died on October 22nd

- Paul Cezanne 1839-1906
- Kingsley Amis 1922-1995

Other very cool events on October 22nd

- 1746 – The College of New Jersey (later renamed Princeton University) receives its charter.
- 1797 – One thousand meters (3,200 feet) above Paris, André-Jacques Garnerin makes the first recorded parachute jump.
- 1883 – The Metropolitan Opera House in New York City opens with a performance of Gounod's Faust (opera).
- 1944 – World War II: Battle of Aachen: The city of Aachen falls to American forces after three weeks of fighting, making it the first German city to fall to the Allies.
- 1957 – Vietnam War: First United States casualties in Vietnam.
- 1964 – Jean-Paul Sartre is awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature, but turns down the honor.
- 1966 – The Supremes become the first all-female music group to attain a No. 1 selling album (The Supremes A' Go-Go).
- 1968 – Apollo program: Apollo 7 safely splashes down in the Atlantic Ocean after orbiting the Earth 163 times.

And you know what's even more pathetic than the research? The fact that it impressed me.

iPod Gameboy

During my interweb surfing a while back I found this picture...



I've seen loads like it. A Nintendo 64 phone case, and a floppy disk purse. I think they're genius. And when my handsome N gave me an iPod Touch this weekend for my birthday present, I decided to make one to keep it safe. Here's my attempt...




What do ya think? I was quite impressed. Normally I'd knit a case - my mp3 player, DS and laptop all have knitted cases. But the iPod is so thin I'd need to knit one in sock yarn, which so isn't going to happen. It'd take flippin forever. N suggested keeping it with my DS, but they'd probably scratch against each other and defeat the purpose of keeping them in cases at all. So the felt one it is. I like it. Might look for other felt/sewing projects.

Ladies and Gentlemen...

I HAVE A VISA APPOINTMENT!!!

I scanned my police certificate and accompanying form and emailed them off last Friday. I had an auto-reply email telling me that within five working days I'd receive an email telling me whether or not to call for an appointment. I opened my email Monday morning when I woke up, and there it was. 07.59, "we are now in a position to offer you an appointment." Five working days my ass. I don't know what time the embassy opens. I assume about half seven, so my prescreening process took all of 29 minutes. This has got to be a good sign.

So I called the appointment line, spoke to a very rude scottish lady, and got an appointment. 8am on Friday. It was either that or August 12th. I didn't wanna cut it that close, so I took the one for this Friday, even though I wasn't entirely sure how to get to London for that early in the morning.

Turns out the first train gets into London at half eight. Too late. The first coach gets in at 10.20am. Bad news. The good news, however, is that the last coach on Thursday leaves at 1.35am and arrives in London at 6.20. Perfect. So I'll be sleeping on a coach on Thursday. Yay.

I have all my forms filled out, I have everything I need, I've booked the coach and printed off the tickets. All I need is to find somewhere that'll do me a passport pic sized 2 inches by 2 inches.

Weekend is Over

I'm vaguely edgy. I had a mild panicky moment last night about going to Maine. Lots of worries and questions that I can't do anything about, but I still worry about anyway. I know, logically, that the plane will take off and arrive safely. I know that I'm not going to get turned down for entry and have to spend four months in the airport like Tom Hanks. I know that I'm not going to get murdered, especially not in Portland, Maine, of all places. I know that I'm not going to lose the folder with all the paperwork in it. I know that even if I have an episode or two while I'm over there, I'll survive. I know that I'm not going to spend all semester alone in my room. I know I'm not going to flunk out (actually not so sure about that one).

I know all these things logically, but I can't help worrying about them. I worry. It's in my nature.

But aside from that things have been okay. N came down on Friday and we've spent the weekend doing what we usually do. Sleeping, eating, watching DVDs and... well, do I need to spell it out for you? Lol. And lots and lots and lots of kissing. I like the kissing. Kissing is nice, especially with him. I like kissing him.

I'm really going to miss him when I go away. Not sure how I'll cope without him for four months. If it wasn't for the interwebs I probably wouldn't. But we have email and msn and webcams and googletalk and twitter and facebook and all sorts. It'll be ok. But I will still miss him like crazy.

He's lovely. Guess what he got me for my birthday? He got me an iPod touch. Actually, he brought a secondhand one for himself, then decided it would make a good gift for me. So I got it. It's very cool. Lots of applications. Lots of funky options and things. At the moment I'm playing a game where you throw a piece of screwed up paper into the bin. Because you can't do that in real life. Lol. Isn't technology fun.

My Rarely Seen Optimistic Side

I've kept journals and diaries in various forms for as long as I can remember. From a scruffy notebook written in code and kept in a secret hiding place so that stepmothers and stepbrothers could not find it, to this blog, my current modern version. Whenever I come across an old diary and read through it I'm struck by how depressing it all is. I seem to only ever write when I'm miserable. The impression you get of the men in my life is utterly appalling. All I seem to do is complain about them. And ok, things may not have turned out well with them, but they weren't all bad guys. And the past decades of my life have not been as bad as my diaries make them out to be. There has been a lot of good times. It's just that when things are good, I'm too busy enjoying them to write about them. And when things are bad, all I do is complain about them.

However, as I was laying in a cold bath this afternoon with Anita and Jean-Claude (the fact that I gave them names rather than initials should make it clear to you that these people are fictional characters) I realised that things aren't actually too bad at the moment. And as I lay in a hot bath just now, after an evening of chatting with my handsome N and after the hot water had kicked, I realised that things are actually pretty good. And that I should blog about it, so that the whole world knows that I'm not just a depressive whiner who complains about absolutely everything in her life, and makes mountains into molehills, and worries and stresses and panics about absolutely everything, including things she can do nothing about. I do actually enjoy my life on occasion.

As far as Maine goes, things are not quite settled. My police certificate has not yet arrived, I still have to do a resit exam (and write an essay apparently), I still have to face the Visa people. But these are problems that I'm working on. Literally. I am actually wanting to do history work for once. It isn't just I-need-to-or-I'll-get-shipped-home-from-Maine studying. I start to study and all of a sudden I'm interested in what's going on, and I want to know what happens next and I'm eager to keep going. I can't do anything about the police certificate, at least until the 10 working days are over, so I try to forget about it. I found a quote in one of the daily quote emails I get recently that I really like...

"If you can solve your problem, then what is the need of worrying? If you cannot solve it, then what is the use of worrying?" - Shantideva

Telling me to stop worrying is akin to telling a bird to stop flying. I can't do it. But I attempt to keep these words of wisdom at the forefront of my mind, and try to stay calm.

In other news, the hot horrible weather has gone away, if only temporarily. It has rained all day. It has been warm, but there has been a nice breeze. It's just my kind of weather. And I am completely and utterly happily all loved up with N.

He's back at work, even if it is boring the hell out of him. He's settled on his medication and things are going well. He seems to be happy. He is being open and honest and friendly with me. He tells me he loves me, and that he misses me, and that he wants me. We talk as often as we can, even while he's at work, which he needs to stop doing before he gets the sack. Today he was talking about me moving in with him. We both know it won't happen until I graduate, but we've been talking about it. I've known him for nearly 19 months, and we've been a couple for a lot of that time. We've been going out this time for nearly 5 months - probably the longest time without us breaking up. I feel like we have a future. I feel happy and safe and secure in our relationship. I'm not constantly afraid that things are going to end, or that he's going to leave me. I'm slightly nervous about being away from him 4 months, but I know he's going to miss me, and I know that he'll be waiting for me when I come home.

Plus, he brought me an ipod touch for my birthday present. How cool is that? And he doesn't want the money he gave me for my flight back. And today he sent me a wonderful text message. The type of message I like to keep and save and reread when I'm miserable and sad and lost. "I love you Colette. You silly sexy sublime sensual woman of mine." Can you see why he makes me so happy?

A possible insult, and Torchwood

I received a comment on one of my posts today, the one about finally getting a flight.

You might wand to take into account that some airlines charge larger people for two seats due to a series of law suits from people who suffered injury as a result of having no room due to someone taking up half their seat. No idea what the threshold is but 27stone may be approaching it.

I don't know who sent it, or if it was meant as friendly advice or as an insult, but I got insulted. Don't even know why. It's also ridiculous. Nowhere on the airline's website did it have a section for people over 27 stone to buy a flight. I never saw anything in the booking form, or any other flight website I looked at. Besides, I may be 27 stone, but I don't look anywhere near it. And I may fit into chairs more snugly than other people, but I don't take up two fucking seats!!

Oh, mild rant over. On to TORCHWOOD. I just watched the first part of Children of Men. I didn't even realise it was on tonight until I saw some facebook statuses. I missed it on tv, but I caught it on that wonderful iPlayer invention thingy.

ATTENTION: HERE BE SPOILERS!!

It was pretty good. Belly bombs, babies, frozen children. And Jack's a dad!! Screw that, Jack's a granddad!!! Who knew? It was good, and they ended on a right cliffhanger. Will Jack recover from being blown to teeny tiny pieces? Did flying through the air with bad CGI from an explosion behind her harm Gwen's baby? Will Ianto ever admit that he bats for the other team, especially now him and Jack are official? Will the Torchwood team ever reach numbers of higher than three ever again? Will that nosy new lady at the Home Office get the sack for spying on her boss? Most importantly, where the hell is the Doctor?!!!

Stay tuned for tomorrow's episode.

(I think this blog deserves a new label. My first (I think, I'll double check) geek out on this blog. In case you hadn't noticed, I am a geek. My first date with N was to a Doctor Who convention.)

An exhausting weekend

The good news is that over the weekend I went to bed at a decent hour in the evening and woke up in the morning. Normal sleeping hours. The bad news is it didn't last. I woke up at 3pm today. The only reason I was on normal hours is because my baby sister was up for the weekend.

Family friend ML brought my baby sister M up for the weekend. Said baby sister is not much of a baby anymore, she's 12 in September, but she'll always be my baby sister, despite her size. She's developing size wise the same way as her father and her grandmother. Ie, big. She's tall and chunky, and beautiful. So far this year I've only seen her a couple of times and she's shot up. She walked into Brownies on Friday and was humungous! Especially compared to all my teeny tiny Brownies. I think my brain still thinks of her as Brownie-sized.

We had a good weekend, even if things didn't go as planned. The original plan was for her, me, ML, GKL and N to go to the West Midlands Safari Park. But then N couldn't come down because he's broke after giving me money for the flight, and GKL had errands to run. And ML and I were completely and utterly broke, so the safari park was out. But she helped me sort my room out, and get things ready for a car boot sale, and we did some beading and watched tv and got things ready for a July 4th picnic we had planned for the late afternoon with GKL.

We got to Keele hall with bagels and donuts and muffins and pasta salad and oreos and chips and coke. And we enjoyed a slightly breezy overcast afternoon for about ten minutes before it started to rain. Then we came back and finished the picnic in my living room. It was still a fun evening, despite ML. When I say family friend I mean he's someone I was friends with a long time ago who won't bloody go away. I don't like him, neither of my sisters like him, my mum can barely tolerate him. He just clings. Years ago I got totally sick of him and wrote him a nice letter telling him exactly what I thought of him. 6 A4 pages of no-holds-barred, vaguely bitchy absolute truth. He disappeared for a day or two, then showed up at my door again. I asked him what he was doing there, had he not read the letter. He said he had, but he knew I'd been having a bad day and he forgave me. WTF?!! I screamed at him, told him I didn't want forgiving, that I meant every sodding word of it and to get the hell out of my house. I didn't see him for about a year. He's back in my life, but only because he's an utter idiot who doesn't realise that people use him. I use him. I fully admit that. But I've tried getting rid of him and it didn't work.

Anyway, back to my sister. Sunday the car boot sale didn't happen because we couldn't get a table, that and ML decided he wanted a cut of the profits (because we'd be using his car blah blah blah) and I wasn't willing to give him any. M and I stayed in my bed for the morning watching Chuck and having fart fights. Is there any better way of expressing sisterly love that a fart fight? Lol. Around 2 o'clock she decided she wanted to play Monopoly so we got the board out. By 4 o'clock - the time ML had wanted to leave to avoid the traffic - the game was in full swing and no where near finishing, so he agreed to stay later. To leave after the traffic instead. Shortly after that M went bankrupt and left the game. She watched me and ML carry on, but got bored after a while. ML and I could have carried on forever, but we set a time and agreed to finish then and count up, and play something else with M. The agreed-upon time arrived and I was winning so stubborn-assed ML refused to admit defeat. We bickered for a bit. Eventually we wrote down how much money and property we each had, who's turn it was next, where our pieces were on the board etc, and agreed to pick up the game again in August. Stubborn sod. If I'd been losing I'd have admitted defeat.

Maybe.

We played poker after that. I expected to lose miserably, since I'd never played before. But I took to it pretty well. I won. I'm good at bluffing apparently. Whether or not I'll be so eager to bluff when I'm playing for money is yet to be seen.

They left early evening yesterday. I love M and I miss her like crazy being two hundred odd miles away. But I forget how exhausting she can be. She's one of those kids that needs constant attention. She's no good at picking up a book and going off by herself for an hour or two like I used to. She needs entertaining all the time. It's okay for a day, but then it gets difficult. Exhausting. I'm looking forward to spending the week alone. Other than weightwatchers tomorrow I don't have to go out at all this week. And then on Friday N is down for the weekend. Can't wait. I've really missed him. Which isn't really a good sign. It's been a few weeks since I've seen him and I'm missing him like crazy. How am I gonna cope for 4 months?

Penpals

A few days ago I found myself wishing that people still wrote each other letters. I miss opening a piece of post that isn't a bill, or an advert. The first summer of mine and GKL's friendship we regularly exchanged perfumed letters while she was at home in Nottingham. I get the occasional letter from my gran, and some from my friend MC when he gets sent to prison for his various misdemeanours. Aside from that I don't get letters, I get emails. I get MSN messages. I get Facebook wall posts. I get blog comments. I'm a writer. No matter how much I find it easier to write on a laptop because I can type faster than I can write, I still adore the feel of paper beneath my hand, and that little scratch as your pen moves over the page. I still love getting letters, and I haven't gotten any in a long time.

So, when I picked up my mail yesterday and found a nice brown envelope that obviously wasn't a bill or an advert, I was pleasantly surprised. The Shrewsbury postmark lead me to suspect that MC had managed to get himself arrested again, as the only place in Shrewsbury that ever writes to me is someone from the prison. And sure enough, on the reverse of the envelope was a prisoner ID number. BUT, it wasn't MC's. The two pages within the envelope contained the following letters:

Wall Hello. Colette how are you. wall I Bet you are thinking who the fuck are you. Wall I have had your name and adress of Mathew, and he said you are a good in. wall I falt I wood Drop you a line and to see if you will Drop me a line Back. I hope you Do Because I WooD like to get to no you. wall I will tall you aBit about me Iam 6ft2 and Sticky BuilD 30 years old I Live in Chell Heath and Lived there all my life you mite no my cousin Jase GReen wall I will Right more if you Right Back please Do see you Later Reseped Dougy


NOW DEN COlETTE ITS JAY PENN ERE C IF YA CAN GET ONE OV YA GALS WRITE Mi A SCRiPT IT WUD B APPRECiATED OR BUST ONE BK YASELF IM 5"10" WIV BROWN EYES MEDiUM BUiLD FROM MANCHESTER BUT LIVE IN BENTiLEE IM GONNA JIB NOW SXI OK C YA 3 2 1 PENNFELLA IS GONE

All of a sudden I'm not so pleased to be getting letters. After the twenty minutes it took me to decipher the handwriting and the absolutely appalling use of the English language, I started to laugh. Once I'd finished the finding-it-funny laughing and the absolutely-hysterical laughing, I got mad at MC for handing my address out to felons. I won't be replying. I won't getting one ov ma gals to write him a script either.

Exam results

Today undergraduates at Keele got given their module results for the year. I got given 20% for History attendance (god knows why) and got 29% for the exam, getting a paltry 14% for the grade. I failed, miserably, but that was expected so I don't feel too bad. Just waiting for the reassessment timetable to go up, so I know when my exam is.

I did three other modules this semester. Student Volunteering, which was a pass/fail course, not graded. I passed, but that's not surprising since I dedicate half my life to Guiding. Sex and Survival was... boring. I went to the first lecture but the woman didn't say anything that wasn't on the powerpoint, and the lecture time was right in the middle of Stitch and Bitch so I decided to skip the lectures and just read the powerpoints. Except of course that I never got around to reading the powerpoints. Still, it was a multiple choice exam, with no negative marking (meaning I had no points deducted for wrong answers). I had a good chance of passing, and I did. 50%. Woohoo.

Politics I actually enjoyed, but things went very messy towards the end of the semester. My essay grade wasn't great, and I was disappointed with the workbook too. I missed the class test and didn't do overly well in the exam, but I was hopeful. My grade? 40% The minimum possible score I could have got to still pass. GKL says I have more jam than Hartleys. I have to agree.

So I only failed history. Just one to reassess. Just waiting for dates.

More Writer's Inklings

I've been over this before. I like to type. I like to type even more when I can do it without making a squillion mistakes. In doing my history revision I've found that although it's a big waste of time, I learn more and take things in from textbooks more when I type up what I'm reading. Not just making notes, but typing the whole thing out. It takes a lot longer, but I take it in more. The trouble is that I can read faster, and my brain thinks a lot faster than my fingers can type. I spend almost as much time deleting and retyping than I do typing things out in the first place. I'm doing it now. I'll stop, and demonstrate. For the rest of this blog I won't go back and correct any mistakes, as hard as it'll be to let spelling mistakes and errors lsip though, I'l;l do it. Just to demonstrate how difficult I find it to keep up with brain. My bloody fingers are dyselcvix.

GKl ahs been going on more an more about her writing recently. About ideas that she has, abd about how she doesn't have to time write. And I get drustrated. I have ideas, but I just can't bloody write. I have time, I just can't write. One of the bloggers I read issued a challenge the other wday with the word "pulse" as ain inspiration point. My mind instantly buzzed with ideas and little characters popping up and doing their business for ame to write about, but I couldn't do it. I brought up a word page, and tyuped 'pulse' at the top of it, and sat there staring at the page for a while. Most aggravating.

I wrote about this a while ago. I decided to start doign writing exercises on here. I even did one of them, b ut got distracted. I started to do the second exercise in that series just now, but opened it up and though.t "meh, that's really boring/" It was the standard, free writing exercise. Just automatically type for three mointus (that was meant to be minutes) a day amd look back on them in a few months to take inspiration form them. I'mve done years and years and freewriting. I used to have a bajillion notebooks full of the stuff. It never yeildied any results. I can't be arsed to do it all again. I have a blog for my random ramblings. I just watn to type. I don't want to ype yup history notes, although I will in a minute, I want to type my own work. I want all the buzz and creativity and characters and ideas in my brain to maek their way through the fingers to page, but they won't. Damn my stupid writers bslock.

-- for those of you keeping track, that was about 24 words with mistakes in --

Weightwatchers, and a new idea

Had my second Weightwatchers weigh in last night. Last week I didn't do too well. I had an episode for most of the week and binged Wednesday to Friday. But I behaved myself from Saturday. I lost 2 lbs. Might have lost more if I'd behaved myself all week, but it's better than nothing. 2 down, a billion to go, lol. I'm gonna keep going til I leave for America. I'm pretty sure I won't go to meetings in America, but I might try to keep to points - not sure. But I'm definitely going back in the new year.

In other news, GKL had an idea. She's decided that instead of ranting and raving about things that annoy the hell out of her, she's going to be a little productive about it. She'll write the things that annoy her on a list, but she can only add something if she can think of TWO things that make her happy. It's a good idea. I'm considering having a go myself. If I do, I'll do it on here for all you lovely people to read.