Full on red mist attack

I know that regicide is to kill a monarch, and that matricide is to kill your mother.

But what about lazy, ignorant, selfish younger siblings? Is there a -cide for that? As I'd like to know what it is before I commit it.

L is seriously going to feel my wrath this time.

Nostalgia

It's a funny old thing. Since returning to my old stomping grounds in uni, I've been thinking about how it was the first time around. Train journeys are ideal for reflection. Mostly my thoughts have been returning to past relationships. It's not so much the guys involved, just how I felt and stuff.

Like two of us all squashed up in a single bed, being kissed between my shoulder blades before I fell asleep, playful teasing, handholding, stealing kisses when you thought no one was looking, being told I was pretty, feeling desired.

What my mind and memories tend to gloss over the discomfort of sharing a single bed, having someone lie on my long hair and wake me up, not so playful teasing, the paralysing self doubt and obsession about my appearance, my inability to take compliments at face value, and worrying about not be desired.

Like I said, nostalgia. It's a funny old thing.

How strange.

I was in work today, and due to a staff shortage the store in Wrexham sent a bloke over to help out. Just to clarify he was a Game employee not just a random roped in off the street.

Anyway, as we were sorting through the delivery I noticed he had a tattoo on his forearm. Being a nosy bitch, we got into one of those tattoo comparing conversations (yes, I have one. No, it's not somewhere rude.). Turns out he has my name tattooed on his forearm. My real name that is, which is not all that common.

I was a little shocked. But he tells me it is his daughter's name.

I just hope it's true or I be mightily weirded out.

Also, have you played Fahrenheit yet? If not, why not? Go now! Now I tell thee! It's the best game of the year so far! Fuck FIFA '06.

Can we just start lectures already?

Don't get me wrong. I love being back at uni, but this whole introductory week/fortnight is starting to wear thin. Especially as uni days mean 6am starts, long walks to the train station, scandalous ticket prices and a nice hour long journey.

So I was not too pleased with todays 'Communications Workshop' I had to go to. Which consisted of us talking in groups about the top 8 (Why not 10? Who the fuck knows?) inventions of the last century. And then attempting to make a structure out of drinking straws and pins which would hold up a house brick.

I am never going to get those 3 hours of my life back. I just want someone to give me some actual work to do, so you know, I could learn something. >_<

Expect a post about this time next week where I will be bitching about how much work I have to do. Yes, I am most difficult to please. Why do you think I am so permanently single?

Listening to people talk can be exhausting.

I attended my first research symposium today, just an interdepartmental one, nothing fancy. And it has really compounded to me that coming back to uni was the right thing to do. Though when I am having a nervous breakdown over my exams in a few months time, I'm pretty sure I won't remember and/or care.

In a couple of years time it is my intention to have a poster in the second year PhD student competition and to be presenting my research in that lecture theatre.

Ambition is not always a bad thing. Iknow what I want again and it feels good.

Not as good as all the pens and stuff I was given today. I have a keyring shaped like a water molecule. I love it too much. ^_^

But train journeys and many lectures have sapped my strength, frail little thing that I am. So off to bed for me.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..........

An Unwanted Guest

As I was sat watching TV last night, the most enormous spider appeared from nowhere in the middle of the living room carpet. It just appeared!

And then it ran under my sofa. It took me twenty minutes and a prodigious leap from my seat before I could escape.

Spiders this big only appear when I am alone in the house and more especially when my Dad goes away for an extended period. Because they know that no one else is brave enough to get rid of them.

And the only thing worse than seeing a spider, is seeing one and then have it disappear. It's like they can teleport or something! It could be anywhere by now.

I be much afeared.

My Shitty Day. Part the Deux

So after making my back to uni, I had a meeting my course mates and professor, who all seem lovely (and I'm not the only whos registration has gone tits up, there are several of us).

After that it was time for me to go home. I checked my train ticket was still in the back pocket of my jeans and set off. Now since moving home I have lost around half a stone in weight and dropped a dress size, my once incredibly snug jeans are now very loose. So loose in fact that my ticket had fallen out of my pocket!

Yes, how shitty did I feel. So after forking out another £7.50 which I can ill afford I got on the train home thinking all I wanted was my Dad. Got a bit sniffly which I think worried the bloke next to me. I managed to make it all the way home but when my Nanna arrived to pick me up and asked my how my day had been, the floodgates opened.

I was just so tired and frustrated that I couldn't hold it in anymore. But I've now come home to an empty house as my parents are in Hawaii and L is no to be seen. So comfort food, a hot bath and a VERY loud Nine Inch Nails CD are cheering me up.

But tomorrow is another day. Allegedly.

Sessy's Soundtrack to this post: - My Chemical Romance - I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

Spec-tacular

A slightly blurry (and oddly pink) pic of my specs. I can see sooooo much better and I think I look pretty cool too. Conceited? Moi? (Apologies for the hideous pun in the title, I couldn't help myself)

Every single year....

I have tried to register at Manchester University, Central Admin have managed to bollocks up my registration.

In the first year they didn't swipe my library card properly so after queuing for an hour (after being put in the wrong queue) for my loan cheque, I was told I couldn't have it. I had to go back to Central Registration and get it 're-done'.

In the second year, my registration pack just completely disappeared and the bloody Undergraduate Office kept asking me if I had checked all the boxes. Yes, every single frigging one. IT. ISN't. THERE.

Third year? I'm drawing a blank, perhaps I'm repressing something to horrible to remember.

And now to this year. Why I thought I could get away with a normal registration this year I don't know. Foolish optimism. I filled in my forms. Dutifully queued up and was then told I could register as someone needed to sign my Loyalty Bursary Scheme form. Without no fee discount and no registration. The Graduate Office tells me I have to come back tomorrow after it has been signed as they basically cannot be arsed to help me. And my queries were greeted with a blank stare or a 'Don't Know'.

So I have no library card and no access to university facilities such as the library or computers. I'm now in the Central Library after taking a trip to Pret A Manger for Green and Blacks and some lemonade, I feel less likely to cry.

Plus I saw John Thompson from Cold Feet filming something in Albert Square.

Sessy's Big Night Out

After much deliberation I finally chose the pencil skirt (v v v tight, but damn it makes my ass look great!) and my highest sparkliest heels. I even managed to make my hair presentable by scorching it into submission with the ceramics.

We ended up in a club in Chester which contained possibly the greatest congregation of chavs around (apart from Destiny and Elite *shudder*). Including last night I have been in this club twice and the first time was my A-level results night. It was horrible then. But I did see the following;

• A very drunk bloke in the queue who after openly leering at me for several minutes turned to his mate and yelled 'I'd fuck her. The one in black.' Such a charmer, I could barely contain myself. Wanker.
  
• A 40 year old Paris Hilton lookalike pole dancing to 80s music.
• A hen party dressed up like pirates
• An insanely drunk woman rolling around on the floor in the club scum and spilled beer
  
• Many, many chavs trying to dance like they were in the latest R'n'B video - Hil-fucking-arious
• A bloke who knew who I (and my friend) were from school even though he was 2 years below me and I had no clue who he was
• 2 DJs out of Peter Kay's worst nightmares (one of them seemed to be channelling Westwood)

So all in all, a merry time was had by all. Apart from my feet, which are now mincemeat.

I'm registering at Manc again tomorrow, so if anyone is round about the campus. I'll be there. Skipping along, just glad to be back!

(Also I promise that sometime this week, I will sort my site code out and give links to all I owe them to and more! What can I say? I'm slack.)

A Hermit no longer.

Which presents a whole new set of problems. I'm going out tonight and (cue hideously clichéd Bridget Jones moment), I don't know what to wear.Hmmm.....diamante stilletos? Pencil skirt?

It's a good problem though, it means I am working out the issues that being in London created. I no longer want to just sit in and wonder what other people with social lives are up to. I want one to! And I will have one. It will be mine, oh yes, it will be mine.

I still intend on remaining a spinster though. Just a few more cardies and some Alsatians (allergic to cats) and I'll be set.

Got my new specs, so the world is both literally and figuratively a clearer place. I'll post a pic when I can find where Daddy hid the webcam.

Sessy's Soundtrack to this post: Fashion - David Bowie

Recurring Dreams and Resurgent Phobias

I am having recurring dreams (actually nightmares is a better description) again, which is odd for me as I rarely remember my dreams. Least of all several in a week.

It isn't zombies this time. Worse. I keep dreaming that I've had a baby, and I just feel completely out of my depth. My little sis, L, has a dream dictionary which I have consulted (yes, I was a serious scientist once. I blame heat, it rots the brain). So this dream can mean I am feeling vulnerable and am trying to hide this from those around me. Scary huh? It can also mean I want a baby or I am about to embark on a love affair. So the dream dictionary was a bust basically.

Also my fear of bugs is back. Big time. Mainly because it is now Daddy Long Legs season. I hate them, they're like spiders but they can fucking fly! Which, frankly, is taking the piss.

Regular readers of this blog will no doubt think me a total ditz who is obsessed with shoes and terrified of zombies. This is not a bad description but I am far more self possessed in real life. Honest. I've done human dissection, allowed a fellow untrained student inject my forearm with anaesthetic then poke me with pins to see if I felt it, drunk a hella lot of vodka at 10am as part of a Pharmacology practical (no, really), I've even acted on stage and I work in a video game shop.

Point is, I don't scare that easy. But when I do, well, I regress to about 6 years old and the cries of 'Daddy!!! Make it go aware!!' can be heard throughout the house. This happened when confronted with a huge Daddy Long Legs at around midnight last night. Trouble was my Dad had been in bed asleep for around an hour.

I felt bad, really I did but what else is a spoilt Daddy's Girl like me supposed to do?

Sessy's soundtrack for this post; The Pixies - Where Is My Mind?

Money

Aside from being the root of all evil and the only Pink Floyd song that I like, it is a constant worry at the moment.

I start back at uni in a week and money is on my mind constantly. I can't sleep and it is even beginning to affect my appetite. (Which is serious.).

I knew when I quit my job and decided to go back to university that I would be returning to a state of not being able to afford to spend money on luxuries. But even with my part time job I'm beginning to see that I may not be able to even afford the train fare to Manchester. As I am still getting taxed due to having had a decent salary a few months ago.

Also I still owe my Dad and my Grandparents money, I've just bought a new pair of glasses and I need a new pair of boots as my others have all died.

I've been brought up with the attitude that you buy what you afford. Debt is not an option. Which with the exception of student debt (and loans from family) is how I have lived.

Until now. If my LEA or hardship funds cannot help me out then my only choice is selling a kidney or have to use my overdraft.

I can't even tell my Dad as he'd go nuts! I hate it! I worked so damn hard to get to where I am and now it seems that I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life paying for it. At the risk of sounding childish, it's not fair. It's not like I'm out buying rubbish left, right and centre, but I can forget an semblence of a social life at this rate too.

Here endeth the rant.

They're all liars!

Bathroom scales I'm talking about.

Since coming home I've been making an effort to drop some of the poundage I put on while in London. Been doing quite well, clothes fit me again and my waist has returned for all to see.

However, whenever I weigh myself in that bloody bathroom I always seem to have put on four fucking pounds overnight!

Don't think I am sleep eating, and since my clothes are not tight again, where has this come from? My theory is that a small gremlin creeps into the bathroom at night to fiddle with said scales and cause untold depression for the women of the house and untold agro for my Dad (while having to cope with three women with 'weight issues'.

Well, I've finally finished chanelling Bridget Jones. Time to find a phone contract to fit my new destitute state as a postgrad student. *Sigh*

How not to be elegant #7

Or

Sessy Fell Down A Mountain (Mal-co ordinated Fool That She Is)

Today I went on a walk up Moel Fammau (a local hill/mountain) which is about 1818ft (554m). All went well and we walked to the summit in good time. Unfortunately the mist in the Vale of Clwyd meant our view was somewhat hindered, but it is still stunningly beautiful up there.

Our trip down however, was slightly more perilous as we took the 'scenic route' down steep shingle covered paths. I picked myself some lucky heather from the abundance around me. About 20 steps later my ankle suddenly gave out and I came what can only be described as 'a right hideous cropper'.

It all happened so fast that I didn't even get chance to put my hands out, so I ended up falling to my knees on the stony path. Luckily I didn't manage to rip my jogging pants but I do now have a limp. Plus my right knee is now all raw, grazed, swollen, lumpified and gross. And I had several miles left to walk after that.

So much for lucky heather!

I am so poised.

Time for my victory dance

I am once again in gainful employment. Got a phonecall from Game this evening and I start from tomorrow. Even though I am still waiting for a call from a shoe shop, hoping they don't call or I'll have my own 'Sophie's Choice' to make.

Shoes or games? It is to horrible to contemplate! How could I choose between them, I love them both so much.

I have celebrated my newly employed (and unfortunately taxable) status by getting myself some sorely needed new glasses. Emo-chic but with less whining. Hopefully pics will ensure when I get them.

Am off to dance about in an elated type way.

Toodles