Personal Blogs

On Friday I went to visit a mate in Exeter.  We took my mother out for dinner - the Holt in Honiton - awesome food.  Disappointingly no caramel vodka in, which is something I usually buy a bottle of for the road, as they say.  Still, it was a good night overall, and eating and drinking there is always a pleasure.  Oh, and as there wasn't any caramel vodka; I tried Amaretto.  That turned out to be an equally delicious pudding alternative.  Dropped my mother home and went back to my mate's for wine and a life debrief.  Went out on Saturday for a wander around Exeter, which was boring in itself, but resulted in a sandwich and cocktail jug, which left us walking home a little less bored and a little more wobbly.  We watched crap DVDs for the rest of the day, chatted, drank wine, ate pizza - she ate garlic bread too, yuk - and generally had a bit of a teenage evening.  Oh, and we coincidentally found a bottle of Amaretto in her cupboard which was an added bonus.  On Sunday I headed to Bath for a lunchtime gig at the American Museum.  I thought this was pretty cool actually, as the music there is free with museum entry.  Museum entry is expensive, so I would recommend anyone going to do so on a day when there is a gig.  That was the Scoville Units again, which was as good as I'd expected, with surprisingly good acoustics in what gave the impression of being a very echo-y building.  An added bonus was that their guitar player had got stuck somewhere far away, so another guy had stepped in, Jason, who used to play in a band called Daily Planet, who are also brilliant.  The banjo player, Leon, also played in Daily Planet, so it resulted in a few of their old tracks being played, which reminded me very much of being 13 and sitting in the Bell in Bath watching hippy women get drunk and drunk men get drunker.  I loved going to gigs there.  Well actually no I didn't, but I loved going to certain gigs there - Daily Planet were without question my favourite, but I was also a fan of the Cosmic Sausages, and there were a few others that I forget now.  I also loved the rolls they sold.  I fainted in front of a band in there when I was 13 actually, and they all got off the stage to take me outside and give me water.  I was horribly embarrassed when I came round.  Anyway I digress.  It was lovely to see Leon, though I always act like a complete arse around him.  Despite knowing him well.  I don't see him often enough to be comfortable in his presence, so I always leave far quicker than is polite really, even though I would happily stay chatting longer.  I guess he's used to it by now.  It was very cool to see Jason too, though I didn't get past 'hello' with him.  I cringe to think back on it.  I'm very good at smiling at them while they play though, so I'm not completely socially inert!

Came back home that evening, which was uneventful. 

Ready to knuckle down to study today, but had a bombshell discussion with my mother that sent me into a very bad place for the day, that I think I am now coming out of.  But consequently I achieved nothing, which is very annoying, and I still feel very drained from being so emotional all day. 

Tomorrow I think I'll just turn my phone off or something, and hope my mind has sorted itself out overnight.  I hate unexpected stresses like that; it completely throws me.

Still, the day is coming to a close.  I'm going to watch some rubbish on TV, and hope I sleep well, and without nightmares.  Two nights running I've had really bad nightmares!  And mine are so annoying because I know I'm about to have one, because I have an imaginary house, and an imaginary flat, that they all happen in.  So as soon as I find myself in one of them I know it's going to be bad.  I'm not sure whether dreams and that sort of thing are inherited in any way, but all the men in my family on my mum's side have horrific nightmares.  I remember at least one, but usually about four, dreams every night, and I have nightmares at least twice a week.  Proper nightmares too, no airy fairy nonsense; really scary realistic situations with terrifying outcomes.  Ah well, at least they never come true!  I'm not into the meanings of dreams luckily, or I'd waste a lifetime looking into mine!

Anyway, fingers crossed for a better night tonight and a better day tomorrow.  I have too much to do to throw away much more time.

I have this black line floating in my line of vision that is driving me bonkers.  I am told that I should get it checked promptly.  I've looked it up on google though, and I think it must be 'a floater' (a description I'm not too happy with as it makes me think of something unpleasant, as you can imagine).  Floaters seem to usually be harmless, and very rarely serious.  I'm seeing a doctor on Thursday so I'll ask him then.  I hope it doesn't stay forever though because it's very distracting.  It's about 2 inches long when looking at this computer screen.  From what I read, there's nothing to be done to get rid of it though.  We'll see.

Time for crap TV

I have just spent a very funny evening round at a friend's house, making pancakes whilst reading through a pile of letters that I wrote to her from age 6-13.

The difference in writing style between myself and our peers is astounding.  I can't believe nobody took any notice of it.  As an example (and we know this because I quoted it in my reply), she wrote:

'Sophie is really ill and we think she might have to be put down.  We're all really upset, and not even the vet nose what's wrong'.

Sophie was her dog.  We were all 7 at the time. She has several replies from friends, all saying how sad, and that they hope she gets better soon.  My reply says 'when you write about knowing something, you write k-n-o-w.  N-o-s-e only refers to the nose on your face.  Your sentence didn't make sense'.

In fact, each and every one of my letters begins in the same way:

'Dear Rachel,

How are you?  I miss you a lot.  You are my best friend.  You made a few spelling mistakes in your letter.  I'll write down the things you got wrong so you know'.

What?!  Over the years I have learnt how to write far more socially acceptable letters, but seeing it there in black and white really made me wonder how no one picked up on anything 'different'.  Not that it really matters of course; what's done is done.  It just surprises me.

Hey ho.  It's also International Women's Day today.  I can't find any connection with it, so I won't be writing more on that.

Pancake day, or rather, Shrove Tuesday, does strike a chord with me.  I wouldn't have eaten pancakes had I not been invited out.  It leaves me feeling strangely guilty, as I am not religious, and furthermore have no intention of giving anything up for Lent.  I never have, and I probably never will.  I have always found it very difficult to understand the way people make their lives difficult or uncomfortable when it is not fully necessary.  Don't get me wrong; I do understand if someone has strong religious beliefs - that is an entirely different matter.  But many people do not, and certainly the people I know giving up random things for Lent do not.  I never understood the 'finish what's on your plate because there are children who are starving' anymore than I understand 'deprive yourself of something you enjoy in memory of a man you don't believe in'.  It all seems very fickle to me, and if anything, offensive to those who have a genuine belief. 

Each to their own perhaps.  And I did eat the pancakes.  And they were very nice.  One with golden syrup and two with sugar and honey.  And I might add, made from scratch, not from a powdered shaker.  And the letters, well, there were points where we were actually crying with laughter.  Again, I am forced to face the fact that I was lucky to have had so many friends, and for my genuine misunderstanding of how the world works being taken as dry wit. 

At least we can laugh about it!

Hangover aside, all went amazingly well today.  I have surprised myself!!

The building was the building I thought it might be.  I pulled into Temple Meads ten minutes late at 10.50 and got to the tutorial for 11am.  Good stuff. 

Nice tutor and nice people.  Even the introduce yourself stuff wasn't as distressing as it usually is.  I felt strangely chilled.  Maybe being severely dehydrated and sleep deprived is the key to relaxation.  Anyway, I will definitely be attending the rest of these tutorials based on my experience today. 

On a less positive note, I have just remembered that we're meant to be going out tonight with my sister-not-in-law.  My body does not want to.  And neither does my head.  I very much enjoyed all my cocktails last night, but there is a reason they make them too expensive to indulge in on a regular basis.  They would kill you.  As good a reason as any I suppose.

On a more positive note, on our drunken stroll around tescos we picked up a number of things that I am happy to have discovered today - a bar of Fry's turkish delight, a giant bottle of pepsi max, some brandy snap baskets and some fruity coulis stuff.  There's also some random stuff; a lime, some funky tissues, a yoghurt and some iron on material for fixing rips or something.  I don't know what we were planning, but I'm sure if we hadn't got waylaid by the consumption of the enormous chocolate muffin, that whatever it was would have been a lot of fun.

On an investigative note; when did people stop using the 'h' in yoghurt?

I've just discovered that the word 'yoghurt' is one of those words that stops looking like a real word when you stare at it for too long.

I've got a hangover.  I shouldn't be writing here.  I can't think sensibly or coherently.  I'm gone.

Once again. 

It is as close to the zombie apocalypse as it can be without consuming the brains of those I care for.  I certainly have the distinct appearance of someone who hasn't needed to eat or drink for a few months, and being naturally very pale skinned, my hollow tired eyes that have now definitely sunk further back into my head, produce a surprisingly compelling zombie effect.

I desperately want to make a student zombie film called day of the deadline.  However, my incapabilities in the necessary resources for such a venture are so vast and far reaching, that it will never come to fruition.  I'll write the script one day, and that's as far as my talents will take me.

I couldn't sleep last night, despite being exhausted.  I was completely wired.  That comes of working all day yesterday I think.  The computer unquestionably has a notable impact on my brain waves, and too much time on it is not good for me, or others in my near vicinity.  Especially with the added pressure of a deadline.

So tomorrow lunchtime is the deadline.  I shall be working from now until then.  In anticipation I have done my study shop and now have varying forms of stimulants lying in every nook and cranny of the house.  The gig I go to as reward is next weekend - The Scoville Units again.  But I also get rewarded Friday with cocktails, which on this occasion I am more excited about.

So... stimulants, check; rewards, check; facebook checked, check; blog written, check; run out of excuses, check.  It's time for the zombie marathon.  Rock on.

I like to have all these little videos to watch in my breaks from studying.  This is a great place for giving me easy access to them all!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pw8ZESzpL3M&feature=player_embedded#at=21

This is for relaxation, ha ha!

I can send a paper copy of the assignment for re-marking.  My overall grade should be un-ruined, I hope.  It certainly can't get worse!

It got me thinking though, about what constitutes progress.  The OU has moved away from paper TMAs, to the eTMA system.  There are many clear benefits to it: not having to allow for the cost of postage, the time queueing at the post office, having to submit days in advance of the deadline in order to ensure it arrives on time, and so on.  But, when it all goes wrong, there is no way to sort the issue it seems.  So something has gone wrong with the system, resulting in half my assignment going astray.  Rather than being able to resubmit via the same system, I now have to revert to old methods.  I have to print my assignment, and post it, and my tutor will have to post it back once he has marked it.  So is that real progress? 

Say it was a new process that had completely replaced the old process.  What if we were unable to go back to the old ways?  What if the postal system didn't exist anymore; if e-mails and eTMAs and text messages and all the rest had completely replaced it?  Then the new systems would HAVE to develop further to fix the mistakes.  Take Sky TV.  We have Sky TV.  We pay a TV license as well as a Sky bill.  Normal TV is what, channels 1-5 ish?  But Sky - an improved service in terms of the number of available channels - completely replaces the normal TV.  So when our Sky box broke the other week, we didn't go back to Channels 1-5; we went to nothing.  When we have a power cut the only thing we can 100% rely on is a candle - or some form of fire.  A torch is great provided it has batteries.  When you were planning to pay a bill online, and then your bank account details are 'temporarily unavailable', you end up having to rush into town to avoid a twenty quid fine for late payment, and pay the bill face to face.  The click of a button can send information to the wrong person, or complete an unintended task.  The chances of me writing someone a letter, and then addressing it to someone else, and actually posting it, are remarkably slim compared to me doing the same thing by text message.  It doesn't, but I feel sure progress should include the ability to use the new thing to fix whatever went wrong.  Not reverting back to the thing that the new thing was meant to improve!  Wow, that sentence hardly even makes sense to me!  But I know what I mean. 

Give us 100 years and we'll all be back sitting round camp fires, producing our own food and building our own homes.  I was born 100 years too soon I think.  Fun as it is to watch the regression of a progression, I'd rather just get straight to the end point and be done with it.

Well well!

I got a Wedding invite from a cousin earlier this week.  I knew it was coming, but I didn't know what was coming.  It's not a Wedding day invite; it's a Wedding Festival invite.  I've never heard of anything like it.  But, for the first time ever, I'm actually a little bit excited about a Wedding!

I am festival junkie anyway, so an extra one can't do any harm.  It even says to bring wellies!!!  Apparently we camp for the weekend.  There's (and yes, I am copying this!) festival food, live music, local wine and beer, disco, open mike, story-telling, massage, duck racing, lantern making, drumming, bonfires, fireworks, chill-out tents, craic den (which on a little googling I believe to be a place to sit and engage in silly conversation, though I don't know as have never heard of it before) and 'lake and riverside entertainments'.  Oh, and speeches and a Wedding cake.  Bizarre, but brilliant. 

And, it's on my Birthday weekend.  Free partying - awesome!  Only thing is, I guess that it will mean waking up on the morning of my birthday covered in mud, sleeping in a field, with a severe hangover and a few hours on a crowded train looming ahead. 

It's nice to see that there are still a few members of my family who are up for a laugh.  I can't quite imagine how the majority are going to take the invite - it's not at all in keeping with the usual formal, dull and stressful family affairs that we are all so accustomed to. 

Anyway, rock on!!

44 is one of my favourite numbers.  4 is my root favourite number. 16, 64, 256, 1024... all equally liked in second most favourite types, followed by 44, 444, 4444, 44444.... as third.  I also have to accept 31, and the years '96 and '99, in order to be comfortable with my 'being', but I don't think I need go into the reasons for that.  The reasons for the others are all quite clear. 

Anyway, this is why it stuck out like a sore thumb when I saw that I have 43 posts on here.  Numbers either side of favoured numbers are spiky and uncomfortable to my brain.

The number thing started on a very small level when I was very young.  I heard adults talking about their favourite numbers, or favourite colours, and thought 'shit!  I'd better get myself some of them!'.  I chose the number 4 because it was the only number that had the correct number of letters.  Four letters for the number 4.  My favourite colour is blue.  I don't know if that's really true, but at the time it was the only colour of the rainbow with four letters.  I'm actually fairly indifferent to colours, they're all good in different ways. 

Unfortunately, this quickly led into something of an obsession.  If you draw a 10 x 10 grid, I very much like the layout of the 4 times table.  More so than any other.  Though I have to ignore the number 2, as it is in a 4 times table column, and is the only prime number to interfere in this way.  It also led to an unreasonable dislike of certain words, which I have now pretty much overcome, such as forward, fortune,... you get the point.

Anyway, I quickly run the risk of going into too much depth here (which can get fruit-loopily out of control!), so I will move onto French.  What an unfortunate thing.  I started learning French when I was about 5 I think.  I was taught at home at that point and I had a French tutor who popped in from time to time.  She was very cool, but French was not.  As soon as I found out the French for number four.  Quatre.  NOOO!  Six letters.  The ridge that this created between me and the language was unbelievable.  I went to school at various intervals, and maintained an active dislike of languages, which gradually also spread back to English and how illogical it all seemed.  But I had no choice.  I begged to give up French consistently.  At parents evenings they'd try to find ways to encourage me - my teachers were always saying 'but she's very good at French - there's no reason for her to give it up'.  It continued all the way until my second year of GCSEs, when I eventually had a complete meltdown and refused under any circumstances to take the exam.  Everyone was pissed off (though I would feel guilty not to mention that my mum did ultimately support me in the decision, despite not fully understanding), especially my teachers, who unfortunately I gather such things reflect badly upon.  The trouble was, I had suddenly realised, that if I took the exam, it would be on my education record, and this all consuming fear took over me - that I could be forced to speak French as an adult if I had a qualification.  I am incapable of sitting an exam and intentionally failing, so that wasn't an option.  I believed (and still secretly do actually) that if there is evidence to suggest you know something of use, then it can be forced out of you if the need arises.  And I knew I didn't want to.

So there it is, since winning that battle, I have no ability to speak any other language.  I have several friends who live abroad, and most of my friends are naturally very good at learning languages, and some are are fluent in two or more.  I would like to learn in a way, as I feel a sense of embarassment at having no abilities in this area whatsoever, but even writing the sentence makes me uncomfortable.

There's another one of those weird questions that comes out of this - what would have happened if I had shared my feelings about the number four?  Could they have taught me French if they had never written '4' in letter form?  The reason I didn't share my thoughts, was because I didn't think that people did.  I thought everyone had this in-depth analysis of their favourite things, but whenever I would ask someone 'why?' - they would always say 'I just do', or 'I don't know', or 'because it's lucky' - as I saw it, very secretive responses.  I haven't actually broached the subject with anyone I know.  In fact, I think perhaps if my mum found out there may have been a way of getting me to like French she'd have a meltdown herself!

Anyway, blog number 44

I've just finished watching Fantastic Mr Fox.  If I had seen this film sooner, I would have used him as 'an example of an entrepreneur that I find interesting' for one of the B3 tutorial activities, but it's a little late in the day, month, year...  Thievery aspect aside; what a cool fox! 

Also, having just completely run down my spirit cupboard to a mere empty bottle collection, I was given an unexpected gift today from someone I have never even met.  A bottle of Polish mint flavoured vodka, that I am apparently to drink with apple juice.  I am more than grateful, though a little unsure about opening it, as feel a bit obligated to like it.

The weekly vegbox arrived this morning, with yet another celeriac.  We still have half of the one from last week, which was only a little smaller than my head.  If anything, that has been the main disappointment of the day, so I'm really not feeling that hard done by at all.  In fact I almost feel a sense of guilt to the celeriac for having singled it out, when in fact the endless supply of potatoes and parsnips is equally draining at times.  Please don't take it rootally.  I initially switched 'person' for 'veg' but that had an unintended rude ring to it somehow, so I switched it. 

I feel just about ready to start studying now.  Just about.

Unbelievable!

I thought perhaps it was time to switch course focus, as I seem to be fast losing motivation with S3.  I'm still recovering from the B3 assignment and not in the mood to go there again just yet.  So I thought S1, some good old pressure free studying.

Well that's what I thought this morning.  I haven't looked at that course text since late January, and although I had the best of intentions, I just couldn't find the bloody text book anywhere. 

I have spent the whole day searching round the house (on and off admittedly); looking under things, on things, inbetween things; rooting through piles untouched for years, and places a study book has never come close to.  Checked cupboards, drawers, and then checked all the same places again, and again, and again.  Nothing.

Sod it!  So I thought I know!  I'll make a drink, and go and say hello to my various cyber communication pals.  And wha'd'ya know... there it was, mockingly sat there on the laptop.  ARGH! 

I'm not blind.  There are gremlins.  I'm convinced of it.