The story behind my dropped jaw comes from RKA records. RKA records was a small record company that was started up in 2010 by 2 17 year old lads with promise. They offered a contract to an ex of mine (Martin) and it never really got sorted, to the best of my knowledge anyway. It was difficult to put faith into the guys running RKA as they were still teenagers, what did they know right?
And now, RKA are signing Janet Devlin and have been invested in by none other than business mogel Duncan Bannatyne.
Well. I knew one of the lads had drive, but seriously. Well done! I wonder if Martin ever did sort things out with them… bet he’ll be gutted if he didn’t.
Couple of reasons for this - for once, a fair amount of people agree with me on something… that beards are great (small but perfectly formed ones, of course ;)). Been chatting to some randoms about it. It’s been a nice distraction from the bad mood. Another good distraction has been the news about the strike - I think it’s a good thing, I just wish I knew strike details for Leeds and had the energy to join ‘em! My iPod has thrown some tunes into my ears this morning, and someone’s just posted on my Facebook wall, saying they had to double take Emma Watson in a magazine because they thought it was me. Now I think I have no resemblance to her at all, but what a massive compliment?! Thanks! :)
Got stuff to do today and 0 motivation. But y’know, it’s not a terrible day so far.
There’s some sort of expectation with me, that I’d just go to uni and be one of the wild animal types that prowls at night and sleeps all day with an incredible hangover and some crazy stories. There’s basically an expectation that I’m a wasteman, who’s also ‘fun’. There’s some expectation that I’d move on with my life and start afresh because I’m the kind of person that can; the kind of person who makes friends with a click of the fingers and a social butterfly and all this epic bullshit. There was also major expectation that I wouldn’t miss anyone, and that this course and this change of life would only make my character stronger.
(I’m not making this up. This is a collection of expectations that came from various people before I left to live in the big wide world).
I’m not sure whether that was a good set of expectations to start off with. Reading them back, they sound a mix of confidence and damn right arsehole arrogance. The point that I think I should live up to though is thriving at university - in some way shape or form. That should be seen as a positive, that I’m doing well with what I’m doing, and that I’m happy.
The fact of the matter is is that something has changed over the past year or so, in me, before I reached here. Home was comforting to me during this awkward rut that I’m stuck in, but I was looking forward to starting up somewhere new. I thought that’d get me out of this life rut. I thought that I would thrive. But. I don’t know how to thrive. I am not thriving. Not even a little. Not even at all.
Does anyone wanna lend me their iPhone 4S Siri for guidance?
On a more serious note of course, I don’t really know why this is bothering me so much. I don’t even wanna talk about it on here, because I don’t want people to ask me about what’s bothering me. I don’t wanna confuse myself any more than I already have. I just need to THINK.
I’d be easier to just vent on here, just to blab it all out and realise I’m being silly, but the blog’s nature has changed. Intrigued semi-friends and strangers are no longer the only readers. Gossips, family (occasionally) and my boyfriend read it too. It becomes far harder to express what you really feel when you feel you have to censor it all the time, for the benefit of others and to the detriment of yourself.
The fact that I’ve spent most of today and last night locked up in here, in this room, doing not a lot probably doesn’t help, especially after the absolutely horrible dreams I had last night. I wanted to be productive today, but to tell you the truth I woke up on the wrong side of bed and I feel absolutely exhausted. To add to that, the mini argument thing I had earlier just put an even bigger dampener on things.
This weekend that’s just been and sadly gone, when I went home (mainly to Alex’s), things were peachy y’know? I was happier, I’d put a bit of weight on, I felt prettier and more at peace with myself. But being cooped up here all alone without my safety net is fucking me over big time, and I’m over thinking every last detail. My safety net being my girls, who I used to talk to, every single day, about things that were troubling me, and my boyfriend, and my nan and my mum, etc. I still talk to these people, but far less frequently. And the absence of all of them in both mine and each others lives ultimately makes it harder to discuss things, because they’re not with you to see it. I haven’t developed relationships of that nature here yet - I don’t think many people hold concern for me in the slightest, but on the flipside I’m also wary of being too concerned over others…if you know what I mean?
Eurgh. My head’s just mush. I wish I was confident and bubbly and as fun as I used to be. I’ve been at uni for a few months and I’ve been out about 5 or 6 times… and staying in with my pjs and a bowl of krave, on my own, has become far more attractive.
What happened? Seriously, I’d love to know what’s changed in the last year or so. Granted, before that I wasn’t feeling entirely myself either, because I’d been fucked over for half the year. But I was better. Now I’m just feeling low and grey and like nothing’s moving forward. I’m stuck here while the world passes me by and I don’t know why, and what to do about it. My friendships and relationships are fine, but they’re not glimmering y’know? I miss my friends and my boyfriend more than anything in the world right now. I just don’t know to what extent they feel the same. And I don’t know if my relationship is going anywhere but backwards.
Stressssss. Sadness. Confusion. Help?
There’s nothing wrong. Not really really wrong anyway (excluding my health, which is a bag of shit. Have resigned myself to a tough old fight ahead.). I’m just lost. And nothing’s overly RIGHT either. Not right here right now anyway :/
I’ve had a fucking awesome weekend bro. Went home on friday night - not the greatest journey of all time, but the tunes kept me going. Had dinner with my awesome Nan, watched Max Payne, had a bath (baths are a halls student luxury dontchaknow) and just had a generally nice time. Then I woke up to Mum’s homemade soup, a trip into Leicester (which was rammed as fack) for christmas present inspiration and starbucks. Met the hubster, ate the worlds yummiest pasty, good times. Rolled down to the theatre to see a most bizarre production (Buried Child with Matthew Kelly!) before trotting to The Almanack for a cocktail. We stayed up, ate pork in pjs, watched I-robot and had a bleddy good chilled time. Woke up, talked dreams, ate THE best bacon sarnies ever to exist, played tekken, spent quality time, kissed goodbye. Mum went via maccys to the station, hopped on a train, got back here for a hot chocolate, stumbleupon and orange clubs.
…advertise doing something to everybody, as if you have no friends you could just ask first?
I understand the occasional, uninspired “does anyone wanna do something tonight?” via social networking; after all, these people are supposed to be your friends right? I understand it, I do. What I don’t understand is doing this repeatedly, weekly at least, for your 35421534 ‘friends’ to hear - do you not have real friends you could ask first? Or do you just have so many ‘friends’ that you’ve lost track of the real ones?
So I’ve trundled into a very busy Starbucks, back in my home town, to find nothing but a bunch of monkeys uncles - a fair few people in here seem to have no idea what they’re doing, and more to the point, what they’re doing WRONG.
Ok so first thing I noticed upon my arrival was a girl sitting with things on two chairs either side of her, on what’s normally used as a communal bench - this place is rammed to the rafters, and instead of putting her stuff on the floor, she’s hogging two chairs.
Secondly, a girl in front of me in the queue was holding everyone else up by firstly taking a while to decide upon her order (despite having waited by the board for 10 minutes prior) and then by standing at the til to wait for her coffee instead of moving to the end like she’d been asked, holding up the queue again and causing a bit of a crush really.
When I emerged from the queue, before I even began hunting for a seat, a man walked straight into me and nearly knocked my coffee over. He was texting while walking in a busy place where people were carrying hot coffee. Who does that?
And then to top it off, there was no empty tables, so I asked a girl on her own if I could just sit at her table. She said no, the seats were for her friends and the table wasn’t big enough. The table is the biggest in here.
Can someone please explain why stupid people like this exist? It drives me round the bend. Seriously, learn self awareness, spacial awareness and some fucking common courtesy.
Need to get out more. It’s a Friday night and instead of being out on the razzle dazzle, I was happy as a clam… In a bath. An ordinary bubble bath. And I’m now in bed, mentally reliving my youth through ‘the girls named spice’.
As I just stated on twitter:
Can’t decide whether liking the spice girls has reached the level of kitsch-cool yet, or whether I’m just a really sad, childish bastard.
I don't know who you think you are, but you fucking owe me big time, you waste of space.
If someone buys you a gift, you don’t expect them to take the money back for it, plus interest do you? Especially at the moment when I’m a student and he’s rolling in it. Like it’d be fair enough if I was his girlfriend and I’d cheated or hurt him or something, but the story is quite the opposite - he bought it for me after destroying my family and half my childhood, as a guilt-ridden birthday gift. And two years later he takes it upon himself to take the money back, without even asking for it.
I’d scream and kick his head in if a) I wasn’t on public transport, b) he was actually in touching distance and c) he wasn’t about 10 times my size.
Date a girl who doesn’t read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in a film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment. Dispatch with making love. Fuck her.
Let the anxious contract you’ve unwittingly written evolve slowly and uncomfortably into a relationship. Find shared interests and common ground like sushi and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale or the evenings too long. Talk about nothing of significance. Do little thinking. Let the months pass unnoticed. Ask her to move in. Let her decorate. Get into fights about inconsequential things like how the fucking shower curtain needs to be closed so that it doesn’t fucking collect mold. Let a year pass unnoticed. Begin to notice.
Figure that you should probably get married because you will have wasted a lot of time otherwise. Take her to dinner on the forty-fifth floor at a restaurant far beyond your means. Make sure there is a beautiful view of the city. Sheepishly ask a waiter to bring her a glass of champagne with a modest ring in it. When she notices, propose to her with all of the enthusiasm and sincerity you can muster. Do not be overly concerned if you feel your heart leap through a pane of sheet glass. For that matter, do not be overly concerned if you cannot feel it at all. If there is applause, let it stagnate. If she cries, smile as if you’ve never been happier. If she doesn’t, smile all the same.
Let the years pass unnoticed. Get a career, not a job. Buy a house. Have two striking children. Try to raise them well. Fail frequently. Lapse into a bored indifference. Lapse into an indifferent sadness. Have a mid-life crisis. Grow old. Wonder at your lack of achievement. Feel sometimes contented, but mostly vacant and ethereal. Feel, during walks, as if you might never return or as if you might blow away on the wind. Contract a terminal illness. Die, but only after you observe that the girl who didn’t read never made your heart oscillate with any significant passion, that no one will write the story of your lives, and that she will die, too, with only a mild and tempered regret that nothing ever came of her capacity to love.
Do those things, god damnit, because nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads. Do it, I say, because a life in purgatory is better than a life in hell. Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent of a life unfulfilled—a vocabulary that parses the innate beauty of the world and makes it an accessible necessity instead of an alien wonder. A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much. A vocabulary, goddamnit, that makes my vacuous sophistry a cheap trick.
Do it, because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl who reads perceives the difference between a parenthetical moment of anger and the entrenched habits of someone whose bitter cynicism will run on, run on well past any point of reason, or purpose, run on far after she has packed a suitcase and said a reluctant goodbye and she has decided that I am an ellipsis and not a period and run on and run on. Syntax that knows the rhythm and cadence of a life well lived.
Date a girl who doesn’t read because the girl who reads knows the importance of plot. She can trace out the demarcations of a prologue and the sharp ridges of a climax. She feels them in her skin. The girl who reads will be patient with an intermission and expedite a denouement. But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.
Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so goddamned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life of which I spoke at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being told. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. Or, perhaps, stay and save my life.
Ever been so in love that you cannot sleep, because you're so overjoyed? Kinda at that stage right now, and as exhilarating as it is, I'd love some tips to be able to sleep!?
I love this. This is the best ask I’ve had in ages! I love YOU, you lucky happy devil :) I’m so happy that you’ve reached this point of exhilaration and joy - one of the lucky few at the moment it seems ;)
Tips for sleeping:
Firstly, don’t get into the terrible habit of going to bed at 3am and rising from your pit at 1pm.It’s not big, it’s not clever, and your body clock will absolutely detest you.
Secondly, hot milky drinks are no myth - a soothing one like horlicks before bed will actually do you a favour.
Thirdly, do something other than thinking of your beloved JUST before you go to sleep - watch some tv, read a book, do some work. Despite these things being stimulants they’re also just a distraction. I know you want to be 100% focused on this amazing natural high, but we don’t want it to kill you off due to sleep deprivation now do we?
Let me know how you get on sleeping - if it’s still a problem you might have to get someone to forcibly knock you out or something… Aha!
"Open mind, closed mouth. That should be your mantra today. If you want to avoid a major faux pas, don’t offer your opinion on someone else’s behaviour, even if asked or provoked. You will have a cutting, sharp edge to your wit today that gets you in trouble."
I never thought I’d say this, but if it’s not working out for you, I’m gutted. Truly gutted.
Ok so, I might be wrong, but I think an ex of mine’s mrs is reaching her wits end with him. I may be wrong, I may be making assumptions… but a few things she’s said about him, and in general lately, would suggest otherwise.
Things like this don’t normally concern me at all, but the circumstances of their relationship makes this different. They got together realllllllly soon after we broke up after nearly 2 years together, all the time. It was my first serious relationship (if you can call it that?) and his too, so it was a big deal, and I was a very bitter, very angry individual. What did this girl have that I didn’t? I knew we weren’t right, but I wasn’t just ok with him moving on so quickly, so I took it out on the pair of them. Looking back now it was awful - I should’ve got a grip and realised it wasn’t my problem to deal with anymore. Anyway, after a while of hating this actually lovely girl, we talked things through properly and became friends to an extent. She’s genuine from what I know of her, and I can see exactly why he fell in love with her.
Lately though, things don’t seem so rosy… I mean, they don’t seem awful, but something’s just not right? Complete outsiders point of view, and they might be fine, I just… dunno. Gut feeling I guess.
I bumped into him and his friends (sort of on purpose?) on my last night out before moving to Leeds and asked him how things were with this girl, amongst other things, over a beer or two. He said fine but seemed anxious about leaving to go to uni - he knew it was gonna change them, he didn’t even have to tell me that. And now they’re there it does seem different… over the medium of social networking.
This girl and I have a few things in common. At the end of the day, we may procrastinate or whatnot, but we get things done and we work hard to do so. She’s determined and driven and a strong woman, from what I know of her. He’s just not like that. He’s got a mind of his own, but when we were together he never acted on his potential as much as he could’ve - not blaming anyone for this or saying it’s the same now, I just think that’s how it was. Maybe it’s the same now? Maybe…
He also looks like he’s really enjoying uni from the pictures. And I don’t know, but she looks like she is… to a lesser extent. She’s missing him and you can see it, it’s less obvious with him and maybe that bothers her? I don’t know.
I KNOW this isn’t my business, and I shouldn’t make assumptions, but we all do it from time to time. I’m not making assumptions to make myself feel better or any of that shit - got over the bitterness long ago. I just want things to work out for them. Because after all that, there’s just something about them that works. I hope that there’s nothing wrong and I’ve got the wrong end of the stick completely… but if I am right in any way, I hope that they sort it - he bucks his ideas up and she doesn’t take any slack. Everything takes work, people forget that and sometimes it’s more important not to.
Fingers crossed eh. And if you know who I’m on about, you’ll know what I mean and that I don’t mean this is any way other than concern, so we’ll just leave it at the door, yeah?
Comment on status from previousprevious post ‘Dnt get why some girls on here want a winter bf, why dont you just get a coat?!’:
coats don’t cuddle, coats don’t make tea and coats don’t spoil them rotten. coats don’t kiss them under the mistletoe, coats don’t think they’re cute in fluffy socks & christmas jumpers and you can’t relate the mariah carey christmas song to a coat without feeling like a numpty. coats also don’t stop them feeling inadequate - if the characters in love actually can have a boyfriend for christmas, so can they. simple really ;)
*I would like to point out that this has nothing to do with my relationship, which seems to be going pretty well at present. I’m just explaining female minds to those not so in-the-know. This is not an ‘apply within’ ad.
Now, the heartless bastard that came up with this, was clearly wrong. Everything dies - it’s the circle of life as we know it. Don’t promise a kid a furry friend for the rest of their days when it’s likely it’ll die before they leave for university, just when they’ll look for the comforts of home the most and when they’re most likely to rebel and all that shite. ‘Dogs are for years, not just for christmas’. Better already? I thought so too.
This brings me on to another point (slight tangent, bit out there… related nonetheless)… Someone on my facebook just posted about girls wanting boyfriends for christmas - ‘Dnt get why some girls on here want a winter bf, why dont you just get a coat?!’
Boys, coats and dogs aren’t the same, no, and here’s why:
The answer to that brilliant question (asked by one of the finest specimens in my virtual friends list) is that coats don’t cuddle, coats don’t make you hot chocolate and coats don’t spoil you rotten at christmas. Oh and they don’t do anything sexual for you either (there’s no point trying to hide that piece of key info really now is there?). Dogs at least, bring something to the table. Boys do too… but is the loyalty the same?
Some girls want a boyfriend for christmas simply because, if they’re going to have an expiry date anyway (which most do from a mile off) you might as well gobble them up while they’re still ‘in season’. THE season to be precise. Christmas is notoriously a time for love and lust and all things sparkly, so why aren’t girls allowed a new toy for then? It’s the prime time, if any time, to have someone to be with (valentines is also a good time to be with someone, but that only lasts 1 day. Christmas seems to last forever so you may as well milk it.) and if you can have someone, then why not?
'Temporary xmas flings' are like cuddly toys - they're great for the first few weeks/months - can't get enough of them, cuddle them to death and treat them like a best friend. They keep you company when they're shiny and new. And then, when the novelty's worn off, you just toss them on the pile of all the other cuddly toys you've got through over the years. Simple, but effective.
Dogs are ‘mans best friend’. They don’t lie, they don’t cheat, they don’t break your heart, and they’re never too busy for a cuddle. With this in mind, I think anyone should be allowed to have a seasonal fling, as long as they don’t go breaking a heart along the way. Boys and girls alike. Tis the season to be jolly… and to frolic around naked in the snow.
Moral of the story is: ‘Boys are… for as long as you need them really. Maybe even just for Christmas…’ *
Basically the dream was already in flow - I was dating a mystery man (reminds me of Finn from Casualty from years ago? Was in hollyoaks too?) and he got down on his knee and proposed. I wasn’t sure but said yes, because I was confident that I loved him despite the arguments and what not.
A week or so later the family came for an engagement party I’d organised - my dad was there first and took me for a spin in his new car, asking if I was sure. I said no, but I was happy and didn’t have long left anyway. ‘Finn’s’ family began to arrive when we returned; I’d only met his parents before now, but I knew he had a brother and sister. They turn up at the door and that’s it - I’ve fallen in love, at first site, with his brother. His brother is tall, dark and a strapping young fellow (he has a lookalike but u can’t think who?!).
During the dream, I’m still at uni in third year, so post engagement party I hop on a plane to Berlin for a film trip, and tell my nearest and dearest about my problem. There’s a graduation party in Berlin - my friend Ailish wins student of the year and I forget about my troubles… Temporarily. I go outside for a ciggie (uncharacteristically) and see none other than the brother, standing there, looking straight back at me. It’s weird because the imaginary love I had for an imaginary person, in that second, was insane and uncontrollable. I didn’t do anything but talk to him though, about why he was there and what he did and the like - I was in love with someone I barely knew. He was a cinematographer and he was there because he loved me. And that was it. That was the deal sealed.
He left and told me he’d see me in 2 days, back at the house, with my stuff packed. I’d graduated now, so I was a free woman, I just had to let Finn know. Which I did, as soon as I was back. I saved him the real heartache - told him I didn’t love him anymore, it wasn’t his fault but mine, there might be somebody else, in my mind only but I want him to be happy. I didn’t tell him about his brother being the one, because I wasn’t even sure what was going on - my head was a mess. I did however tell him that we were being sent to a film together, which wasn’t a lie (jack, the brother, had secured a place on his new movie for me).
Jack (can’t remember his name so we’ll go with jack!) picked me up and away we went. Fast forward a few years and it turned out he was the one. We worked on films together (one was about a stolen baby in 50s America and another was avatar, 1000 years on), we got hitched and I was pregnant. Finn hated him but fell in love again, so all was well.
It was a good dream. Full of guilt that my feelings had transferred from one person to another. But the rest was amazing. Ahhh :)
I’m going to get me a pup, as soon as I can possibly have one.
After looking at christmas presents online, amongst other things, I stumbled across something pug related and then I just had to do some future mutt research. I’ve found a handful of dog breeds that are friendly and lively, without needing 25mile walks every 5 minutes (due to my health more than anything else) and of course ones that are undeniably cute and not too hairy (excluding pugs, they shed a fair amount).
It’s gonna cost an arm and a leg and possibly an internal organ, but it has been decided. I WILL HAVE DOGS.
you're from leicester, and you're hot. How does that work? x
Aha! Why is that an alien concept?!
I’m originally a Londoner but class myself as a Leicester girl as I spent most of my life there (age 6+ ;)). And trust me, if you saw how I looked right this second you’d realise that I’m not hot, I just know how to scrub up well on the odd occasion ;)