the prettiest star

Paranoia?

2006-03-09T18:26:00.000Z

A number of things have pissed me off today.

I'm pissed off at my own laziness because I had to do an essay in 2 hours that I could have started 2 weeks ago. What's worse is that an essay I thought was due in tomorrow was in fact due in today and I don't understand the questions on it.

This essay situation today was not improved by the fact that I've got pmt and my stomach looks pregnant. I just made a cake to make me feel better and I ate the entire thing. Silly, wasn't it? Now none of my trousers fit.

But what's really upset me, and I choose the word upset because it saddened me, is that I read an article on a news website that Princess Diana's death was not caused by a conspiracy. Seems random that it would upset me? Allow me to explain.....

The driver of her car was recently found out to be a member of French intelligence. There was another car, I believe it was a whie fiat, it's driver was never found. It wasn't approved that she was dating someone of Arab descent, and she did too much good. Made the rest of the royal family look bad.

It's almost 10 years since she died and there has been so much theory over the whole situation. Maybe we'll never know what hapenned, but I know, and I think most people in the country feel the same way, that something isn't quite right. There's a lot of stuff going on that we, and by we I mean the public, aren't told about.

Maybe it's just a bad day for me, but it worries me how scary the world is these days. I was told by my lecturer the other day, that living in a city, we get photographed hundreds of times a day. Advertising worries me. Given that I work for a natural cosmetics company and you learn about ingredients, you realise that as consumers, we are all being ripped off. And food! I witnessed my housemate eating days old take out the other day. I asked him, do you think about what you're eating?

No one thinks about what they put in the their bodies, what they put on it, and what they feed their mind with. Maybe this is paranoia, but there seem to be a lot of people who just do not care. They will live their lives the way television and magazines deem the correct way. They will be subservient to convienience, and believe everything the papers say.

I sat next to a woman on the train the other day, and she told me she worked for local govt and explained that no one votes anymore, no one knows about how the country is run. Her time is filled with petty things like mending roads and sorting out housing and all the things she thought she could solve can't be solved because she has no time, no resources.

I risk sounding like I think everyone should live their lives a certain way. I know people choose their lifestyles, but they are coerced into it by how their choices are marketed. I think corporate greed is taking over, and say with certain soft drinks companies, they just want growth, they don't care whose third world workers are exploited or whose children's health is ruined or how much waste they produce.

I told my Mum's friend at the weekend that the reason her (very well known) face cream didn't work was because it's a cocktail of mineral oils and preservatives. 'But it cost £35' she said, 'It said on the box that it was tested by dermatologists'. I explained that the fact that she spent money on it didn't mean it was going to work and it was obviously bollocks because it gave her a rash. She admitted that she only bought it because of the amazing adverts and claims made by the company.

I was happy because I've hopefully saved her a lot of money. But then at the end of the night she said that she was just like me when she was my age. 'We all grow out of it', she said, 'you think you can change the world but then you grow up (!) and have kids and it just doesn't matter anymore'.

I'm not some naive kid thinking 'the man' sucks ass. I get so sick of people that think just because you're young, you don't know. How many people could have done great things, but were stopped because someone told they were 'too young'?

Love Is A Battlefield

2005-10-23T23:51:00.000Z

I've written so much on here about my love life. I'd like to think I'm the eternal optimist, but I'm ever the bitter cynic as well. I don't think one relationship (encounter may be a more appropriate word) has reached any level of meaning and everything has ended in nastiness.

So I found myself two weeks ago at my friend's staff party, drinking their free alcohol and talking to some loser about god knows what. Then I'm introduced to some people playing a drinking game, and there He is. Cute, nice hair, all that stuff.

Conversation ensues. He studies Spanish and the rest of the conversation is in my mother tongue. We ended up getting trashed and going to some vile club in the city. We drink equally vile beer, laugh at the crap music, and when he kisses me it's like the kiss I've been waiting for all these years.

We end up at my place. The next morning I wake up in his arms.

He took me for breakfast and smoothies which we ate in the park. On the next date we went for drinks, where he laughed at me for drinking real ale. Before the next date he came into my work and brought me chocolates, then that night we went for Spanish tapas and discussed our life stories.

Last Friday I had to stay at work late and got caught out in rain. By the time I got to his, he had made me a meal.

I'm fully aware of how icky this all sounds. I know people are sick that I've been walking around with the most ridiculous smile on my face. When we made Cds for each other I drove my housemates mad by playing it all the time.

I now know how it feels when you're with someone so perfect the thought of someone else is so wrong, so alien, it doesn't bear thinking about.

I'm terrified of fucking it all up. Finding someone who I could fall insanely and irrationally in love with after all the shit I've put up with, seems so lucky and amazing I just think it's all too good to be true.

The Summer of Discontent

2005-10-05T00:31:00.000Z

Not that it's actually summer any more, but sometimes you start a season with a distinct feeling that the last was frittered away. Three and a half months and I am no better off, financially, romantically, and didn't do half the things I wanted to do.

And so I find myself somewhat miffed.

I am quite disturbed that my last notable sexual encounter was with the man across the road after a 2 many dj's gig. In his front room. He has green hair and questionable manners. Before him is a guy I'm still supposed to be seeing who is perfect in every way apart from our most intiamate moments seem to involve some awkward fumbling and fiddling with condoms under a duvet in a darkened room.

There has to be more than this, surely? I'm nearly twenty but most of the time I feel 15.

It's this whole emotional ineptitude which is quite alarming. My housemate just split with his girlfriend after a very intense 8 month relationship, she's in Morroco and apparantly doesn't love him any more. This hapenned a week ago and the guy will not stop crying.

I don't deal with crying men, they make my skin crawl and I avoid dealing with them at all costs.

So it's got to the point where I'm hiding from my housemate because it's getting a bit silly. I asked him if he wanted to come to the supermarket to which he replied there were too many memories there.

What total bollocks. Everyone goes to Asda.

I must admit that I can't ever imagine being so into someone that the local supermarket is just too much for me. It verges on the ridiculous.

It's also quite disturbing.

When my parents broke up it didn't stop my mum from going to the local shop for a paper.

It's such a little thing and I don't know what it is exactly that's bothering me. But this discontent has been lingering all summer. It was that I was earning and yet not quite enough to clear my debt. I was dating, but not forming relationships. I was happy enough but not doing anything really fullfilling.

Now it's my environment and it's so petty.

Families. Can't beat them. Shame that.

2005-08-30T12:40:00.000Z

I went for a gorgey steak dinner with my friend tonight, and it struck me how both of us did nothing but complain about having to live back at home for the holidays. And it's not just us, it seems all the students I speak to are having some kind of mental breakdown.

Take right now. I am sat, peacefully, at my laptop in our offic space upstairs. We have wireless internet, not that my computer will have anything to do with it, but my mother has decided that this is the moment- at 12am, to print out her expenses. It's really pissing me off.

Call me spoiled or selfish, whatever. This woman and her twat of a boyfriend exist only as a means of making my life more difficult.

What possesed me to come home for the holidays? Oh I remember, home is where I am style consultant/cleaner/mender of computers/ taxi. What better way to spend my summer?

It's got to the point now where I hear her boyfriend getting up and this sinking, icky feeling materialises in my stomach. He sounds like a horse, all heavy breathing and odd snorting noises. Then he emerges, never wearing more than a pair of pants and sunglasses. I don't know if his eyes are sensitive or whatever, but only a complete tosser does that.

Two weeks on Friday I officially move back to Casa of Freedom and Good People None Of Whom Are Insane.

I keep going there, for long weekends and the like, and the 16th of September cannot come soon enough. I will gladly exchange the loudest man in Spain and his bumbag for communal living.

The other day my Dad asked me if I was going to live at home after I graduate.

I told him I would live in a cardboard box with tramps before going back There.

Only Me.

2005-08-11T21:53:00.000Z

Right, so I got a WHOLE load of shit to talk about.

So. I've been working as a sales assistant in a shop called Lush in the day. It's all natural, handmade, fair traded, etc, stuff, so it's morally right up my street. I get freebies and my hair and skin look amazing now.

Up until a few days ago I worked at my local but then the landlord did a runner because the pub went into admin.

Could only happen to me.

And he owes me a weeks wages.

So I've also been quite the serial dater. I met a guy called Chris a few weeks ago, tongue piercing, sweet, but didn't want to pay for anything and got all shirty when he found out I was seeing someone else. And it wasn't like I told him I was comitted so we left him at that.

The someone else is called Arron. I met him last summer and he looks like Simon Le Bon but I never thought he would fancy me. But someone told him and I got this text saying basically, lets get it on. So we did. Then he got all shirty cuz I'm seeing two other people but it's okay now. And he takes me out proper and pays for everything but sometimes I think hes too nice for me. And he's always saying he can't get feelings for me because I'm at Uni. Such bollocks.

The other one is Ricky. He came into the pub every Thursday after playing football in little shorts and I used to shamelessly perve on him. Then one night he stayed later than usual and him and his mate were bugging me for my number. Apparantly he'd fancied me for weeks. So he picked me up in his BIG YELLOW SPORTS CAR and it was love. He's an architect and amazing in bed and built his own house and pays for everything.

So yeah. I'm seeing a lot of Ricky and occasional bits of Arron. I like being taken out and told I'm pretty and clever and have fabulous shoes.

And workwise, apart from the big pub cock up, Lush love me, apparantly my need to talk about bollocks all the time is good for customers, as is my vast knowledge about hair and skincare. I'm loving the free stuff and the discount, and the people that work there are brill. We have an insane manager from Sheffield with a mad Yorkshire accent and amazing taste in music.

Thats all I can think of today.

2005-08-09T14:55:00.000Z

Ah, hello?

I have taken, ahem, a rather large blog holiday and I can only apologise. I just simply haven't had time, and I mean that. I work a 50 hour week and my spare time is spent sleeping or socialising.

I logged on to my emails and felt so ashamed cuz everyone was so worried, it was so sweet of you all, and thanks so much.

Its been a crazy few weeks. I am now the owner of a lovely house in Leeds, only minutes away from where one of the London bombers lived. That's all very surreal. I've dated a whole load of guys and have had a crazy time catching up with old school friends.

I got to get to work, and I bet no one will read this cuz I bet you all think I've fucked off!

If you read this, will you spread the word?

Ermmm...

2005-06-26T23:23:00.000Z

So for a week now, I have sat down at the computer many, many times, hands poised over the computer to try and describe what happened to me last weekend on my date.

Sadly, words fail me, so there's only one way to put it.

It was complete and utter torture.

It may well have put me off dating for a very long time.

Quickie.

2005-06-18T01:55:00.000Z

So as soon as I decide to start regular blogging, I am exiled to the land of No Internet Access. Argh! It's all fixed now anyway.

It's 2am, and I've just got back from work (pub) and, eeeeeeee, I have a date tomorrow!

This guy I'd never seen before was giving me looks while I was working, so I mentioned this to the boss, adding that I thought he was a bit phwoar. So he took it upon himself to set up a date- I could have died from embarrasment- but this guy is cute and lovely.

So tomorrow, please send me good vibes!

I got my groove back.

2005-06-16T01:11:00.000Z

It's been a while hasn't it?

So, during this little blog holiday, I've been really busy. I'm working here, and at my local, I'm really busting my arse at the gym, and I feel really sorted out, financially, mentally, and physically.

I have money, for once, and I actually really enjoy both my jobs. I go to the gym every other day and I'm discovering all these new muscles, I feel great.

So, now that I am 'sorted' as it were, you can take this as my official return to daily blogging. The past two weeks at home, I've felt like I have nothing to say. I was unemployed and between semesters, there wasn't really much going on with me, and my head was really just a bit empty.

I still don't have anything resembling a man, but I'm working on it.

Sorry, but...

2005-06-08T18:51:00.000Z

I've been completely shit at posting of late haven't I?

Truth is, since Monday, I've been really busy. And when I say busy, I mean productive busy, not pissing about doing fuck all busy. I've got a job in a pub- making that 2 jobs in total, and I started that this week. It was also my friend's birthday. I've read 5 books in two days and there is one other thing.

The gym. I actually booked a one to one with a trainer, Sam, that I wasn't in love with, to get a program that is really challanging. So, I turned up on time and my favourite trainer- Ashley- who is possibly the most beautiful human being alive- said he'd be doing my program because Sam was ill.

Then the doom took over me. Ashley is the one my Mum calls 'the nasty one' because apparantly he really pushes people and has been known to make people cry. But I was brave. Internally, I knew that it was EXACTLY my luck for this to happen, but I also realised this might actually be a good thing for me.

So I told him about how I had returned to uni in May, and drank more in a month than many people will ever drink in their entire lives, and then became realy unfit because I was too hungover to do anything. I told him that I actually intended to go to the gym and work out, that I didn't want to be like those women who turn up in a push up bra and make up and do yoga in the weights room in a sad attempt to pull.

It started off just fine. We did all my cardio and chatted about uni, school, places to go out in Nottingham. I spoke about the overwhelming stupidosity of men these days, and he accused me of being picky. Of course I'm picky! If I wasn't I would end up with one of the men from Saturday night. Most had their shirts tucked in (big mistake) and had completely tragic hair. Well sorry. I'm going to be picky and I'm going to like it.

So back to the story. We moved to the weights, and foolishly, by then, I'd been fooled into thinking he was a nice person. So first machine was the leg press, which I normally do about 60-70kg on- I was told to lift my own body weight on this one. Well he told me that wasn't good enough and kept putting it up until we got to 110kg. It was like lifting my father! I was making sex faces. After that, there were many horribly heavy weights he made me do, and I was actually quite scared at how much I can lift when I try. Then he told me we'd run out of time and could come back at 10am tomorrow?

So 10am yesterday, earliest I've been up for about a year, I turned up, to do my arms and abs. This time, he underestimated how strong I am. Setting all the weights way lower than I normally do, he kept putting them up, and then pulling some odd faces. He said he didn't know many girls this strong- I felt so proud- then realised this makes me a total manbian. Who finds 'I am freakishly strong!' attractive?

Then we had a little argument over music- I won't go into it, but he did tell me to buy an mp3 player, and set me some impossibly difficult ab exercises. Then, made me make an appointment for 3 weeks time for a review. He asked me if I intended to stick to it- frankly, I'm too afraid not to. So I returned to the gym today, and had to find him having forgotten how to use ALL the machines.'I thought you'd forget' he said. Tosser. He wasn't even impressed that I had bought an mp3 player that very day!

Speaking of mp3 players, for all my love of music, I am shockingly behind in devices to play it. I've only been downloading music for about a year, my car still has no 'sound system' to speak of, and I have only owned an mp3 for a day. I always said, when I could afford it, I'd get a CD player and proper speakers in my car- but that day never came. But I bought a really cheap mp3 player- only £40. So instead of having the gym's completly shit dance music, I now have a proper soundtrack.

For cardio, it's Mylo, Prodigy, Basement Jaxx and a bit of garage. Then I have rnb music by female artists for when I do other stuff- see, when I think I've done enough, I'll be reminded that JLo, Ciara, and the rest have really good bodies and that motivates me!

So I may not be posting much in the next couple of weeks, I need to kick my arse into shape. To be honest, between working two jobs (I'm doing 50 hours a week, eek!) and brutal new gym program, and of course, going out, I'm too tired to even go shopping. But it's good for me, and once I look gorgeous (we hope) I will return to posting all the time. Okay?

Books

2005-06-05T19:01:00.000Z

Home has been an interesting experience so far. Sadly Big Brother 6 is taking up alarming chunks of my time- I love Saskia. Aside from that, I wandered half dressed in the rain while my car had an MOT, I witnessed my father's girlfriend destroy some perfetly good veggies, and I resumed The Plan.

I also got accosted by a group of middle aged men. No, scrap that. They were old. I was accosted by a group of old men last night. Me and Rachel were clearly having a conversation, and were not giving anyone the eye, the come on, or any 'signals'. Yet we were propositioned by a harem of office workers on night release, who promised a night of 'hotness'. I told Mr Hotness, that seeing as I was only 19, and he is what, about 90?, that a night of geriatric love was about as appealing as a long cold drink of battery acid. I said should our quest for a fit young thing fall through, I'd be in touch, but that frankly there was more chance of me beating myself to death with an old shoe.

Honestly, why do they bother? Personally, I wouldn't date anyone older than around 24, I just don't do older guys. Perhaps I should put it on a t-shirt? 'If there's a chance you could have fathered me, then please piss off- this girl buys her own drinks, drives her own car, pays her own bills'.

My mother and her complete loon of a boyfriend woke me up at 8am this morning by playing some loud Spanish folk music. I opened my bedroom door and made some incoherable noise about it being the middle of the night, etc, only to be met by a barrage of Spanish abuse. Someone's going to get hurt....

PJ passed this to me. Do go and read his blog, he, like most British people, is super cool.

Estimate the total number of books you’ve ever owned in your life?
Oh crap, about 500.

What’s the last book you bought?
On Friday I bought Bridget Jones, The Edge of Reason, by Helen Fielding; Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood, by Rebecca Wells; and House of The Spirits by Isabel Allende.

What’s the last book you read?
I finished Divine Secrets this morning. Absolutely amazing book.

List 5 books that mean a lot to you.

1.The Buddha Of Suburbia by Hanif Kureishi- An ex gave me this, and my copy is so battered and worn, it's my favourite book. The protagonist, Karim, has one British parent, and one foreign parent, and a younger brother. His Dad leaves for another woman, and Karim has to deal with a lot of shit. It's so funny, and the family is just like mine, it helped me so much to cope with my parents, and their divorce and everything. I read this book all the time and never get bored of it.
2.White Teeth by Zadie Smith- This is also about mixing cultures, and I love all the different stories and time periods in it. It's such a funny book with some amazing characters in it.

3.Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson- Part of my love for this book stems from the fact that it's set in the north, and I love northern humour. The things it exposes about religion are extremely revealing, and the fact that I don't believe in religion helped me identify with it.

4.The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath- I did an essay on this, and compared it to Oranges, above. A very powerful book.

5.One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez- I think this is the most beautifully written book I've ever read. It covers so much and yet I found every bit incredibly interesting. It's a little bit of Colombian history, and there are a lot of characters, but they remind me of my mother's family.

I know, I'm supposed to pass this on, but just anyone who feels like doing it, do it.

Bye bye Leeds.

2005-05-31T15:15:00.000Z

So it seems today is the day I leave my city flat for the house in the middle of nowhere. You can expect posts about the inane boredom that comes from living in the countryside, about the shit weather, about the pollen, and of course, the familia. My mother, whose idea of cooking is to fry the entire contents of the fridge and cover it in cheese. And her insane boyfriend and my brother.

No longer will be the tales of drunken clubbing, shopping, pulling, and evil flatmates. Instead I shall thrill you with my stories of sober nights in the pub because I have to drive everywhere, ex boyfriend sightings, and the horror of sharing a bathroom with my younger brother, whose idea of hygiene is questionable. Shopping will become a trip, not a daily habit. And I have to travel 30 minutes by car, 5 minutes by tram, and 5 minutes by foot should I wish to be in a city.

And I will be all alone. Ali has gone to Scotland- wtf?! it gets hot so she goes to the coldest, most miserable part of the UK!?- to do voluntary work. She tells me she's really enjoying not wearing make up and 'being at one with the land'. It would take an apocolypse for me to leave my room without make up and the only time I ever want to feel 'at one with the land' is when I'm dead. Stacey is going to Ibiza- lucky bitch- all bloody summer. Jackie has her boyfriend, and he just happens to be the sibling of the twat James, so I may stay away from that one.

And of course, my pulling partner Rach went and got herself a bloody boyfriend and I haven't heard much from he since. So that leaves either my guy friends. And they pose problem. If I bring them round to the house, my Mum categorizes them- gay or fancies me- and that's it. And god forbid that anyone in the 'fancies me' category comes nto my bedroom. Then all I get is 'everything alright in there' or 'do you want a cup of tea' or 'it's 6pm (!), and getting late!' every 5 minutes.

Other people's parents don't do this. They understand that having lived away from home for the best part of year, that maybe, just maybe, it's time to let go and not ask 'where are you going?' all the time. Of course, I understand that it is not my house, but I don't come in drunk late at night, I don't eat all the food or hog the tv. And everytime I say 'Surely Mother, it is time for me to go about my business without having to answer 20 questions about my every move? It's not like I live a rebellious lifestyle? I'm 19!', she replies 'I know how old you are, I gave birth to you, just be grateful we don't live in Venezuela'.

Oh yes, Venezuela. Recently came in the bottom 10 states for gender equality. Lovely country, where, at the age of 18 I was not permitted to walk down the street on my own, stay out after 9pm, look at a man, talk to a man, or smile at strangers. Why? 'Because you are a woman'. Never mind that I live alone in the city with the highest amount of crime in england.

And I really hope she doesn't try and tempt me onto a family holiday. If it's not to land-where-I-may-as-well-be-nine-Venezuela, it'll be to some place where I have to deal with her and her boyf 24/7 and someone will get hurt. And it would be somewhere obscure, just to make sure I can't go clubbing, or shopping, or make friends.

I just don't want to move away from Leeds. Nature doesn't do it for me. I am a city person, the crime doesn't bother me. And there are less bees. If it wasn't for my car, I don't know what I would do to escape.

He's a dick. In fact, they are ALL dicks.

2005-05-30T19:10:00.000Z

*This post is long and very full of Brit slang. I've put a glossary at the bottom to help you read!*

A brief summary of my weekend: Friday: No he didn't call. Saturday: Went out again, met a guy, gave him my number. He's texted but I don't want to see him- he smokes. Sunday: Went out, spent £27, that's the equivalent of $49, just on cocktails. I had 5 cocktails, shared a jug with 3 people, then a jug to myself. I still didn't feel that drunk.

England, and in particular, Leeds, suck. The men are all complete tossers. My only remaining single friend (Rach got a boyf!) Sophie, was saying that maybe it's just a Leeds thing. She says that she has not pulled one man and finds the whole process much easier at home. Now, I would say that I have improved in experience since starting uni, but I never had a shortage of men at home. So wtf?! I get more attractive but no one wants me? Should I revert to having horrible unflattering short hair with about ten colours in it? Perhaps if I wear hideous ill-fitting clothes I will suddenly appear more attractive?

In the bar last night, we got IDd, then had a giggle over everyone's driving licenses. Everyone looks awful. Yet all three of us had a steady stream of men back then. Yet all I got this weekend was no-call guy and then Sat nite guy, who I would date apart from several things. First, it hapenned to be a uk urban night, and I was chuffed cuz they were playing Roots Manuva, Pay As U Go and the like. Anyway, there's this song, Stand Up Tall by Dizzee Rascal, and I love this song- all of us do- and this guy's bugging me. But he's fit so I stop and talk. Then he asks why I'm there if I'm not from London. Wtf?! He's all 'UK garage is a London ting!'. I really cannot be bothered to argue with this man, he's a total knobsack. So I really want to get back to this song, but he is persistent. Then he tells me I'm fit and asks for my number, and I give it to him to get him off my back. The he says 'Are you Asian?' which is insane, a lot of my friends are Asian, but they are obviously darker, and well, Asian. Then he starts smoking so I just escape.

That is the only kind of man I can get.

And I know it's not the kind of places I go to. I went to a old school hip hop night, an urban night, and an indie/ funky house night, and yet all the men are the same.

You've got metros, trendy boys, indie boys, bad boys, chavs, gangstas and the weirdos. I don't want any of them! There is only so much pulling you can do before it gets totally demoralizing. If they aren't the kind that calls, then they are making random claims at your ethnicity, telling you what music to listen to, or whatever. I remember a time when all I had to do was make eye contact and you'd pulled. I had a great little life. In fact I had a bloody sex life, which is something painfully missing right now.

I'm very mardy and hungover and I'm supposed to be moving out today, yet I am still in pyjamas, in bed, eating a load of fried stuff with cheese. I know I'm going to be so foul mouthed and sulky. I hoped writing this would help, but it hasn't. I guess my family are going to have to deal with me giving everyone evils. I hope to god my mother doesn't try and talk to me about contraception, or aids, or the size of my arse. All those years she spent keeping me away from boys and stopping me wearing make up and now all she does is nit pick and match make. I swear, I would sooner prostitute myself on ebay than date one of her suited, smarmy reps. Ergh.

And no doubt all her friends will come over and start their childish competing. Mum will start talking about how I've started getting writing jobs, and I've done so well (ha!) at uni, then when asked if I have a boyfriend she'll probably make one up or say I'm a lesbian. My Mum was championed back in the day, because she never let me have boys in room, boys overnight (still doesn't) and was generally a little mussolini when it came to dating. Now she throws me at whoever, or whatever, in some cases, and people say 'Poor Oleyda with the daughter that no one wants'. I'm not shitting you.

I don't get it- it's not like I enjoy being single. I like the freedom, but not, quite honestly, the lack of a sex life. People can't put ideas into my head that were there anyway. No amount of discussion with my friends, my mum, random stranger in club toilets, is going to improve the situation.

Thing is, I almost wish there was something wrong with me so I had a reason. But there isn't. I can talk about anything, music, fashion, football, sex, food, porn, whatever. I am not clingy, I'm not too nice, and no, I don't try too hard. Then there's the way I look. I've posted photos here but they aren't me. I mean, they are of me, but are a piss poor representation of what I actually look like. I am often drunk when near a camera, and I just look shit in photos anyway. So trust me when I tell you I am not hideous. So what gives?

Okay, I think I will make pancakes tonight, then I will watch Frida (didn't let no man mess with her), Y Tu Mama Tambien (perve on Gael Garcia Bernal), and Amores Perros (more perving on Gael) and hopefully I'll pick up some more Spanish. So when I fuck off to Spain, where, despite looking like most of the women there, I am actually considered a catch. And the men are actually men, not prissy metros afraid to show any sign at all of actual attraction.

I look Spanish, and I speak Latin American Spanish with an English accent, so that is always a conversation starter with anyone. The guys are gorgeous, and nice, and they are amazing in the sack. I had sex with a Spanish guy on holiday, and frankly, nothing has been good enough since. It's cuz they can dance.

(The Spain thing, by the way, is real. The company my Mum works for have offered me a job in their press office in Barcelona when I graduate.)

Whats my point?! Right. I should just wait to go to Spain. I will accept that British men are complete dicks. Total cocksuckers who can go to hell if they think I'm going to give them the time of day. I am not going to try anymore. Yes, so it was part of the plan, but anymore rejection will be detrimental to my mental health.

V's vocab.
tosser- a stupid guy
Leeds- Capital of the north!
UK Urban- a genre of music originiating in London, a bit of hip hop, bit of r n b, bit of drum and bass
chuffed- happy
Roots Manuva- my fave london mc
Pay As U Go- hardcore drum and bass, my little bro loves them
Dizzee Rascal- genius
bugging me- pissing me off to great extent
fit- good looking, nice body
UK garage- genre of urban, deep bass, fast paced
ting- a london way of saying 'thing'
knobsack- the worst kind of man
Asian- someone from around India/ Pakistan
indie- non mainstream rock
funky house- shit dance music
metro- Metrosexual
trendy boy- metro but less gay
indie boy- fit
bad boy- wannabe gangsta
gangsta- scary
chav- dire
pulling- the art of finding a man
mardy- moody
evils- a nasty look
nit pick- irritate
in the sack- in bed

It's about time.

2005-05-28T13:45:00.000Z

I feel a bit of a twat writing this, feels a bit premature. But here goes.

I met someone really nice last night.

I'm so happy I've been singing Joss Stone songs all morning.

Anyway, I ended up in MPV last night, sadly there was no Summer of 69, but some proper old school rnb which is always good. I was on a proper mission last night, speaking to so many blokes, then I found a good one.

I shamelessly bumped into him- great way to start talking to someone, and then we just didn't stop. We spoke for hours and I know he's a good one. He can dance, he likes good music, and he told me he had noticed me before. He kept doing that thing I read about in Cosmo, where they keep touching you, like on your arm or your back, very intimate and a good sign. He didn't run away when I went to the loo. Then when someone took my stool he offered me his. Then we walked to get food, he bought me food, then we walked to get a taxi and he paid for all that. Then I got his number, and then he kissed me on the cheek and I went.

There was no attempt at sex, no scary snogging, no weird behaviour. And he's gorgeous.

But it gets better.

I get into my flat, and after cringing at the state of my hair- loose waves became scary curls- and some attempts to remove all the make up, there was a beep. He had texted me already- it said 'Hey (my real name) it was an absolute pleasure meeting u tonight. speak to u soon. sweet dreams. sleep tight. x'. Now my inner girly girl analyzed this in a bout 5 seconds. Speak to u soon= good sign. sweet dreams= random but cute. x= another good sign. I love it when guys text you straight away, seriously, men, if you want to impress someone, don't be a twat when it comes to texting.

I think I'll watch Dirty Dancing again, and maybe Pretty Woman.

Anyway, I'm all squiffy this morning, I can't believe I pulled! And he didn't say I was scary! I hope to god that he's as nice as I remember.

What night is not improved by a bit of The Swayze?!

2005-05-27T17:00:00.000Z

I did my last exam!!!!!!

It was my Spanish oral, and I said the worst thing: Me gusta Venezuela porque la cerveza esta barato y los muchachos son hermoso.

My tutor didn't look impressed.

Then I was bad. I went shopping. I spent £53 in Elizabeth Arden, very, very bad! Then look what I found:

And I ate them all.

I made an end of exams/beginning of summer cd. Here it is....

The Boys of Summer- The Ataris- best song ever
California- Phantom Planet- well I'm not in the oc, but I can pretend
Last Summer- Lost Prophets- good summer song
She's Electric- Oasis- cuz I am!
Dakota- Stereophonics- Kelly Jones is hot
Californication-Red Hot Chilli Peppers- yeah so I'm obsessed with California and Anthony Kiedis is hot
The Day We Caught The Train- Ocean Colour Scene- britpop rules
Rio- Duran Duran- I love Duran Duran!!!!! and Simon le Bon is still hot
Summer of 69- Bryan Adams- just because
Super Duper Love- Joss Stone- this cd did not leave my car last summer
Beautiful- Snoop and Pharrel- reminds me of Venezuela and Pharell is hot
Crazy In Love-Beyonce- I don't care who hates her
True- Jaimeson- can't beat a bit of uk garage
Ooh Wee- Mark Ronson- good to dance to
Move Your Body- Nina Sky- latin pride!!!!!
Romeo- Basement Jaxx- I listen to this far too much
The Time Of My Life- Bill Medley and Jennifer- oh like I need to explain!
9 to 5- Dolly Parton- whats not to love?
Nasty Girl- Destiny's Child- put it on in a club and laugh at the sluts

Yeah say what you like about my music taste, but that's my soundtrack for the weekend. My flatmate gave me evils when I saw her earlier. I have played so far, today, Best of Bon Jovi, Appetite For Destruction (Guns n Roses), and Best of Aretha Franklin. I sang along to all three Cds probably louder than was necessary. I think 'Always' tested her patience somewhat.

I have so much to celebrate. I made it through first year, I went to all my exams, I'm broke and single. But most importantly, the Spice Girls are playing at Hyde Park this summer!!!! Oh my holy mother fucking god if don't go to London and see them then I may never get over it. The Spice Girls were a vital part of my early adolescence. I had the platform trainers! The union jack dress! I was only 10 so it didn't matter! Have you ever felt so proud to be British?!

Tonight they better play 'Summer of '69', I want to be drinking something vile and blue, singing about 'the best days of our life', and I expect tonight will end with me and Sophie clutching each other, declaring our love when they play that Dirty Dancing song. I may not have my own all-dancing, all-looking-hot-when-wet Swayze, but I have the best friends in the world.

Anyway, I'm going to watch Dirty Dancing, then have the cd on and get ready for tonight. Can you believe I've done a whole year of my degree?! Snaps for me!

And I have a bottle of vodka that isn't going to drink itself- have a good weekend!!

In search of boy jeans.

2005-05-26T23:24:00.000Z

Can I talk about fashion for a bit?

Okay. I love to shop, I have a bit of an addiction to be honest, and I get shamelessly happy from buying something new. Unfortunately the two places I've ever lived in are among the best for shopping in England. And England is so small I can always get the train to London or Manchester for stuff. I've been known to get the Eurostar to Paris.

Is it shameful to go to another country in search of the perfect jacket? Paris is only a few hours, but still. I shouldn't cross borders just to shop.

There are a lot of trendy people here. See, theres being stylish, being fashionable, being funky, and being trendy. (I worked this out in my lectures, much more fun than books). Trendy people are very experiemental. Some look quite odd, but, you know, their clothes, their money.

Personally, I dress a bit funky. I take influence from fashion, but I believe in sticking to what suits me, basics from high street shops with a few individual pieces. I hate fussy, patterned, frilly, detailed, busy clothes. I like simple stuff. Always tops in one colour, and jeans. I love to get bags, belts, shoes, and jewellery from either really obscure shops, or boutiques. Theres the Corn Exchange in Leeds where I get things by independant designers and vintage. Nottingham is just full of wicked shops as well.

I had a point to all this. Yes. I went to get some more jeans today. I own eight pairs, which is actually quite a lot, but they are all ho jeans. I mean, they are girly and clingy. Well I decided I needed some boy jeans today. The kind that I can wear with flip flops and just mess about in. So I went to Blue Rinse, a vintage shop that I am slightly scared of cuz I never feel trendy enough for it. I go in with my ho jeans and everyone else looks androgenous and weird. Ooh, and by the way, I'll be posting a story about a guy I met in there on the other blog.

Anyway, I got some vintage 501s, in a 34", and I'm 30" so they hang off me. I love them. See, I can wear them with vest tops and not look like a ho. I wore them with a bikini and a shirt to the pub and did not look like a ho. With the butt tight jeans it would have been a different story.

See how happy I get from a bloody pair of jeans? I also got some fabulous vintage jewelery on the cheap, but don't get me started on that.

When I was younger I wore some insane clothes. In my school fashion was all about reflecting your music tastes. I like all sorts of music, so I had a very random look. Now, everyone tries to be very individual. Leeds students must look really odd to other people.

How you look is important, to me it is anyway. I'm always after something. This week it was the bikini, then the wrap top, then the jeans. One thing that bugs me with other people's blogs is that you don't know how they dress. That sounds random, but I love seeing what other people wear, I guess that's the girl in me.

It's always interesting what guys wear. I'm not the kinda girl to change a guy, but I've never been happy with the attire of any guy that I've dated. Are American guys as crap as British guys when it comes down to your wardrobes? It's always jeans, t shirt, trainers. So dull. But if a guy shows too much interest then he's probably gay or headed that way. I'm always suspicious when a guy doesn't react to the number of shoes I have (it's over 40 pairs).

Help.

2005-05-25T23:50:00.000Z

Okay, I need help with another thing. Cookies.

I really like to cook. I'm good at it too. I'm just waiting for some guy to marry me so I can feed him food all day and be a housewife. Okay, maybe not, but I like feeding people. But I cannot find a good cookie recipe. They're too cakey. I've tried loads and they just come out as little cake mounds. They taste nice, but I want cookies. It's not a huge deal, but I would like to be able to make cookies.

So if you make good cookies, want to help me out?

Oh, and any dating advice can be thrown my way as well.

Seriously.

Yes Mum, despite leaving home and having my own separate life, you just come and interfere all you like.

2005-05-25T20:00:00.000Z

I have a predicament, and it involves parents. I don't see much of my Dad, and he rang me the other day, cuz my Mum had told him we should see more of each other. I was so pissed off at my Mum, cuz I am more than old and mature enough to sort out my own personal relationships, and she just shouldn't have. So I told her today that I was annoyed and there was little to no reaction from her. Does she honestly think I'm 9, not 19?

I know my Dad doesn't want much to do with me and he knows that I don't want much to do with him. Why, why, why do parents insist on playing happy families? Is this normal parent behaviour?

I think if my Dad wanted to see that much of me, he wouldn't have fucked off five years ago and had a heap more kids. It was a horrible conversation. Him: 'How are you?' Me: 'Yes yeah, I am still alive, glad you remembered, hows the baby factory going?'. My parents hate each other. Is it that bad that my Mum has to ring him up and insist he calls me? It was better left alone.

The orange girl.

2005-05-24T20:00:00.000Z

I am unnaturally orange, and it happens to be my natural colour.

My flatmate sent me photos from Sat nite and I am positively radioactive.

I always knew I was, well, darker than many English people, but now I am acutely aware that I glow an entire different colour.

Look at this photo:

I am the orange girl in the middle with the glowing cheeks clutching a mysterious blue drink.

And again:

There's that blue drink again. Everyone looks pink and I look orange. Look at those arms! So orange and pudgy. Why can't I be all bronzed like my mother? No one else is orange.

This post is extremely self involved. Seriously, how do I overcome looking so orange?

Transistions.

2005-05-23T16:30:00.000Z

There's something I do every summer, always round about this time. I make a plan. Since I was around 12, I always kept a diary and would make a list of all the things I wanted to do that summer and would then keep a record. Like a great multi-tasking demon, I always do the things on the list, I keep them within reason and I love getting to September and knowing I've done all these things.

Everyone that reads this and comments is older than me, and may not relate to this entirely, but it's weird how much your life changes each year when you are in your teens. Only 3 years ago I was still in a school uniform, intepreting the rule for 'tights' as 'bright pink fishnets worn over opaque black tights' and listening to Fiona Apple and being sulky. The academic year runs from September to June/July so summer is my transistional period. It's the end of a school year and things move so quickly at this age.

So since I started secondary school when I was 11 I kept a summer plan. It's a strange feeling knowing you have all these months ahead of you with nothing to do. So I need to do it to give myself goals. All through the school year my head is filled with deadlines, exams, reading, boring stuff and I think it's important to develop yourself personally as well as academically.

Without my plan, I would never have gone on holiday when I was 17, read most of the classics when I was 16, or gone to Leeds festival when I was 14. A lot of the stuff when I was younger revolved around manipulating my parents or getting money to do something, or pulling some guy. I'm ashamed to say it hasn't really changed since then!

This year has obviously been a crazy one for me. I've left home, moved to a new city, completed the first year of my degree and finally my independant streak that battled with whoever supressed me, has been set free. My personal relationships, with old friends, new friends, and family have been tested and I feel like I'm in a good place with the people around me. There's not enough space to talk about all the experiences I've had this year, but I've definately learnt more this year than any other in my life.

And I'm happy. Superficially, and deeply happy. I have looked forward to University ever since I first stepped into school, with it's sadistic 'teachers'. Now, when people ask me how I've been, I smile and say I'm doing great. I know I complain a lot, but the blog is my proverbial whine-box (like a swear box) and if you knew me in real life, I'm quite upbeat.

There's always room for more though, and this year is no different. I don't want to turn into who I was over the easter hols- fat and wandering around in pyjamas, smoking and drinking myself comatose every night. And I wondered why no one fancied me.

I've made another blog for my plan and I'll be writing in it twice a day. Once in the morning and once at night. I'll be talking about my progress, and hopefully ticking some boxes. This will still be my blog, but I need the other one to talk about calories, miles I've ran, men I've pulled, and generally anything related to my plan. It's of no interest really to anyone but myself so I don't want it on here. It won't affect what I write on here.

If you should wish to comment on it, which is highly unlikely (sample quote 'I ate a pizza at 5am, that doesn't count, right?') please email me cuz I want it separate from this blog and I don't want to have comments on that page, cuz, well I just don't.

So for the next four months, if you wish to view my progress, it will be here. It's only the random whining of a 19 yr old desperate not to turn into Bridget Jones, but it's another me.

Two at once.

2005-05-22T16:22:00.000Z

So I got tagged twice, so it's all at once, music and films.

Music
Total volume of music files on my computer?
Erm. I dunno. I only really download songs when I don't want the whole album. I love new Cds, don't ask why. There are 295 songs on my media player, but I have hundreds of Cds.

The last CD I bought was?
Who Is Jill Scott? by Jill Scott.

Song playing right now?
Romeo by Basement Jaxx

Five songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me.
1. Boys of Summer by The Ataris- The perfect summer song, I love it.
2. Under The Bridge by The Red Hot Chilli Peppers- My fave song by the first band I fell in love with.
3. Golden by Jill Scott- Every single girl should listen to it.
4. Babe I'm Gonna Leave You by Led Zeppelin- I've been having a love affair with Led Zep ever since my Dad played me this song.
5. You Sent Me Flying by Amy Winehouse- My break up song, perfectly written.

I'm passing this onto:
Samantha
Rafe
Jess
Wondywoman
Scientist Dan

Films
Total number of films I own on dvd?
13.

The last film I bought?
The Motorcycle Diaries.

The last film I watched on TV?
The Magdelene Sisters

In the cinema?
The Wedding Date

Five films that I watch a lot or mean a lot to me.
1. The Way We Were- 'Your girl is lovely Hubbel', because it isn't your typical happy ending.
2. Dirty Dancing- 'No one puts Baby in the corner' I grew up to this film and can now recite the entire script. Sad, I know.
3. West Side Story- My favourite musical, I learnt all the dances as a kid and I love it, really well made.
4. Amelie- Gnomes! Photos! Sex shops!
5. Breakfast At Tiffanys- Well of course. I have to admit I watch this at least once a month.

I'm passing this onto:
1. Martinilove
2. KelBel
3. Luke
4. Amber Lynn
5. Annalisa

Anywhere but here.

2005-05-20T20:20:00.000Z

Why do you think, from June to September, English people in droves fall over each other for cheap holidays to the Med and North Africa? Why? Because England sucks in summer. We were deprived of a summer last year. We had so many miserable barbies in the garage, drinking our beer and staring at the sky, willing the clouds to part and drown us in sunshine.

Every year we escape to Spain or Greece and enjoy the 'culture' of cheap drinks, passing out and roasting yourself silly. I've already been to Gran Canaria this year, but because of stupid car insurance, rent, furnishing an entire house, and other ridiculous costs, I can't afford to see a beach until at least September. Four months. I need a beach right now. And no, it can't be Cornwall, or, god forbid, Skegness, because they are icky and dirty.

Sometimes I just get so sick of this island. It's so rainy and depressing. There is no way in hell I'm living here when I'm older. I don't think anyone will be. All my friends talk about, is going to Morroco, Spain, Portugal, Greece, anywhere but here. It hurts that all these countries are so damn close as well. Morroco, where I'd love to visit most, is only a few hours flight.

When I was 17, I went to Corfu, a very beautiful greek island. Apart from the usual mayhem, it was amazing to be surrounded by such natural beauty. The sea only came up to our waist for miles, and little fishes swam around you. The water was really warm and totally clear. It's my idea of paradise, just being in an amazing beach. Look.

Last summer I spent six weeks travelling around Venezuela. I slept outside, on the beach, under the stars, and have never been happier. I ate fish that I caught myself and went to the rainforest, the dessert, the Andes, and all along the north coast with my cousin. Sometimes I would get upset, and my cousin assumed I just missed home. I was upset because I could have lived there. I will never know what possesed my mother to live in England. Look where she grew up.

Yeah she actually grew up right next to that beach. The carribean coast was on her doorstep. My grandfather was a fisherman and they practically lived on the beach. It is one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, yet she swapped it for grey, gloomy England. My cousins, of all ages, come home from work or school, and spent all their evenings on the beach, drinking beer, talking, and weekends are spent having fiestas. This is the sunset. You can't see clearly, but when the sun is on the horizon, you can she the shadows of the Andes in Colombia. The boat belongs to my Uncle.

I don't care how much money you could earn abroad, look at it! Part of the reason why I want to be a journalist is so that I can travel. I don't care if it pays shit, give me a beach and I'm happy. People that live in the Med, and in Venezuela, live a lot longer because they aren't as wound up as the English. They don't abuse their bodies with horrible food and stress, they just live.

England is not going to deprive me of summers for much longer than I can help it. I won't let this island make me old before my time like it does to everyone else. It can't give me any dreams. I have slept under the light-polluted cold skies of England, and under the shadow of the rainforest of Venezuela. I have a choice. I can be like everyone else and spent the rest of my life working 50 weeks of the year in a dark stuffy office for the sake of a two week's sun in Spain. Or I can leave this island and spend the rest of my life living the holiday.

Breasts!

2005-05-19T23:45:00.000Z

Me again. I had an epiphany that I forgot to mention earlier.

I'm allowed to chat up men in bars!

It never occured to me. While I was sulking over my vodka cosmopolitan, Amanda pointed out, that instead of mourning the fit guy that left the bar, I should have spoken to him. We were doing the eye contact thing. It never occured to me. NEVER. Next time I go out I'll make a point of asking someone out. I must get back into dating. I'm sick of people asking me why I'm single. I tell them it's cuz I enjoy having no sex life and not having to shave my legs as often as I should. Ha!

So tonight I went to Asda and found series one of Coupling for £10. £10!!!! I almost came there and then. I watched Coupling religiously when I was younger, taught me everything I know about British men. They like breasts.

So, the stat meter is interesting. I have a load of people that read this from Britain. This is a good thing. They know what I'm going on about when I make random references to Brit TV and say things like mardy, minging, knackered, and tosser. Anyway, I have been reading two really good British blogs. One is as of a few days ago, and one as of about 10 mins ago. Wondywoman and Shocking Fish. They are quite brilliant. Don't hate me, I like reading everyone's blogs, but I love British blogs purely because references to Celebrity Love Island, crazy frog, and titles of blogs being Take That songs make me laugh. A lot.

I also purchased strawberries, chocolate, cookies, and grape juice (too hungover for vino) and kiwi fruits, so I'm going to watch Coupling and have myself a little orgy. And one last thing.

Breasts!

Do you have any fit friends?

2005-05-19T14:15:00.000Z

I have the words 'Scott Hall Rd' etched onto the back of my hand. Why would I have that you ask? Well, last night I found myself agreeing to go and watch some Irish guys play gaelic football and thats the address. Shameless huh?

I have to write bar reviews for a book, remember? So last night I had to go to a couple of bars and check them out. I went to brb first. Now, I love brb but the people that go in there are twats. They are trendy verging on experimental. Got a new outfit you want to try out? Wear it to brb. Parents throwing out some old clothes? Worry not. Steal them, cut them, tighten them, rip them and you'll feel at home in brb. Anyway, the manager was really nice to me and showed me all the private function rooms.

Then we go to Hakuna Matata, a complete dive in some godforsaken back end of town. It's empty apart from a harem of drunken dirty men in the corner whose eyes light up at the sight of four girls. The staff are hilarious. I ask them when they close - 'whenever the fuck we like'. I ask them about the clientele- 'Twats in suits'. Love it!

Then I go to my fave bar, Tiger Tiger . It's been revamped so I get a bit silly excited. So, we go in and the waitress is Columbian and speaks no English. So, get me, I ask her to get the manager and explain what I'm doing, all in Spanish! Then the manager arrives, and he's gorgeous. I turn into a total girl and he tells me he reads the book in reviewing and offers to show me all around. At this point its just me and Sophie, everyone else kinda went. So the manager who I'm slowly falling in love with, shows me the new restaurant, the new club downstairs, and the VIP room, which is totally pimped up. Then the best bit, he says if I ever want to get on the guest list, with free entry and free drinks, all I have to do is ring up and ask for him. That'll be every week then.

So we get outside and all our friends are there. Why? It was over 21's night and we got in! Ha! I look 21. We end up in Walkabout, where we fall in love with the Australian barmen and drink giant cocktails. Then my friends pull these two Irish guys, so of course I'm all 'Do you have any fit friends?', cuz I cannot resist Irish guys. Yum. And that's how I ended up with this address written on my hand.

Crap.

2005-05-18T16:14:00.000Z

I have an exam in 45 mins on reading poetry and I haven't actually read any poetry.

Later....

I had the worst walk to the exam! I had to do the other walk of shame. The kind where you're reading your texts while you walk. It got worse. I walked past a window and realised I was orange. I was a bit overenthusiastic with the bronzer and didn't notice, never mind, I thought, keep walking. It gets worse. I saw a guy I used to date. A normal person would have stopped and chatted, or just walked by. Not me. I attempted to run away only there was a parked car in the car. So there I was, scrambling around a car looking orange and flustered. Bet he wishes he still dates me...

And the exam. I actually wrote good stuff and it was fine. That natural luck of mine! I'm off to get fucked now.

And when I say fucked, I mean drunk fucked not sex fucked. I think we all know there's more chance of hell turning into a childs theme park than me actually finding a suitable man.

Bring on the martinis....