Risky Business

Well hi there! I'm experimenting with bold font, what do we think? These things are very important, you know.

Let's start with a cheeky anecdote. On friday I have a horrible busy day at uni. I'm in from 9 until 4, but with two separate breaks in between lectures which are long enough for boredom to occur, but not so long that it's worth doing anything productive, so we tend to end up in the canteen most of the day, doing the most glorious of all activites: eating. 

Last friday, during the first break, Jamie and I had eaten, perhaps, the entire restaurant's supply of chips - all you can eat for £1.20? Challenge accepted. However, when it came to second break, we were both feeling for something sweet, something small, and Jamie decided upon a doughnut. I did a little sad face and said I wanted a doughnut too, to which Jamie said 'Get one, then', but alas, I could not. 

Most of you know of the cruel and unusual things that dairy does to my insides, and, being an, if I may say so, astounding cupcake baker, I know that cakey things tend to have butter in them, hence I have to make my own. And I love doughnuts, perhaps even favouring them over all other baked goods, but homemade doughnuts suck, they just do. After cheesecake, doughtnuts have been the thing I've been craving most the whole time I've been a dairy-reject. Jamie, however, changed my life with one little question: 'Aren't doughtnuts more like bread than cakes?'

I googled it. Maybe they didn't have butter; maybe the doughnut and I could be reunited. Yet I searched to no avail. My phone internet was too slow to provide me with the answers, our hour break was drawing to a close. It was now or never, do or die, to doughnut or not to doughnut.  


I risked it. 


And huzzah, hooray, whoopee and so forth, I was fine! And when I finally got round to looking it up, it seemed as though doughnuts are butter free - who knew? (And if you did know and didn't tell me, I will track. you. down.) 


So the point I come to is this, risks are good. It's a simple statement, and if I'm honest, it doesn't always seem to be true but I'm going to say it nonetheless. I'm aware that if that doughnut had hurt my insides, it wouldn't have led to this blog, but now I am on the other side, with a bag of doughnuts on my tesco delivery list, I must declare that it was worth the risk. Thus I set forth this challenge: take a risk. Now, on this day and waste not another moment. Take a risk. 


Do something that ordinary, boring you wouldn't normally do and do it now. It doesn't have to be a massive thing. I'm not saying go out and bungee jump or get engaged to the next person you see on the street. Do something small, something tiny, but make sure it's something different and make sure it's a risk. Don't think purple hair would suit you? Risk it. Think Woman in Black looks good but it might be too scary? Risk it. Want to go surprise your friend who lives in another town but they may not be in and you'll have wasted all that time and money getting there? DEFINITELY risk that one! 


And yes, it is a risk. You might not suit purple hair, it's not for everyone, but now you know. Woman in Black may make you wet your pants, but at least you saw it. Your friends may not be home, but hey, you're in a new town with an afternoon all to yourself and new things to see, instead of just sitting in bed watching iPlayer. Do it, do it now! Be able to say to yourself in the years to come: 'On that day, at least once, I did something different. Something risky. And I loved it!' Or even: 'Well that went completely tits up, but I tried it, I risked it, I lived.'

Happy Valentines Year

Hello everyone! 

My friend Polly started a blog (she's such a copycat - get your own thing!) I jest. I'm actually really glad she's joined the hallowed ranks of the bloggers because she lives far far away these days so I like seeing pictures of cakes she's baked and Ben Howard quotes and generally what she's been up to, lovely. Her last blog was about Valentines day and it got me thinking about how I feel about Valentines day being that a) I have a boyfriend but b) we're not all that couple-y and c) I like giving presents but d) I hate consumerism's death grip on us all but e) I don't want my friends to feel lonely and sad. It's a very complicated situation going on upstairs but let's see if we can work this out, shall we?

Also, I'm aware I'm a week late for a V-day blog, and today I should post about pancakes but I'm dairy intolerant so I'm ignoring pancake day. I don't much like them anyway, hang their deeper significance! 


So, Valentines. I don't know about the rest of you but I've never been such a fan. When you're at school you hope to get a secret admirerer (but I was a nerd in high school so that was never gonna happen) and my mum has always given me a valentine anyway so I've never been bothered. But I think I have beef with Valentines day and I shall tell you for why. It seems to cause more arguments than it cures, starts more stress than it soothes, and makes people feel more lonely than loved. 


Think it over, it's one day a year, one day in which you MUST show the person you love that you love them, in the perfect way, or your proverbial balls are in a vice. If you're single it's the one day where everyone has license to rub their love in your face (bingo?) and so you need a date, a card, anything to give evidential proof that you're not alone, which you're not meant to require any other day of the year. It's the pressure of romance and attention, and my biggest beef, if you've not picked up on the repetitions, is that it's only ONE DAY. 


Mine and Jake's anniversary is on febuary 1st, right after my birthday which comes right after Christmas which follows Jake's birthday. By Valentines day, we're done. We've exhausted our original cute ideas, our bank balances are dry, but 2 weeks later we have to do it all over again because the world tells us to. It's one day, seemingly picked at random, and surely we should be sharing the love all through the year. My friend Hannah was telling me yesterday that she's taken to writing lovely quotes on tea bags and posting them to people who love tea and need a pick-me-up. Does she do that because it's Valentines? No. She just cares because she cares.

But I did kinda have the best valentines ever this year and it wasn't because Jake did anything for me specifically, it's because Jake, Polly and I had THIRD WHEEL VALENTINES DAY!!! It was AWESOME. I'd had a really stressful week, and had to go straight from uni to the train station and jump on a 3 hour train home and when I got there, Jake was waiting for me in the car, and he and Polly had spent the day at my house cooking me dinner. They made beer butt chicken (Jamie Oliver Recipe :P) Polly made a tiered cake, we drank wine, wonderful. 


So, in fairness, we did that because it was Valentines day. And I'm not shirking a great excuse to show people you love them, but we should spread the love all year round, not just on one day. And it definitely shouldn't just be a couples thing because, left to our own devices, Jake and I probably wouldn't have ended up doing anything and if we had, there would have been all this pressure and expectation, and instead we had a great night with someone who LOVES valentines, and it was super fun. 


So I hope you enjoyed your day of love, friends, but remember (in a very christmas-carol-esque fashion) to keep the true meaning of valentines day in your hearts, and keep it all the year. Spread the love :)




 

Zombieland

Hey buddies :) 

First, a warning: to put this blog in context I have to give you a list of the amount of work I had to do this week. It's a dull list, just to warn you. It gets good in a bit. 

I had multiple books to read for uni, a 200 page sci-fi novel for wednesday (which gave me two days to read it in as Jake was here all weekend), and a 400 page lesbian novel and 300 page native american novel for friday. (Both of those in two days) Plus I had to write 500 words of my final creative writing piece. However, I also finally got my dissertation back and my friend 'Hannah' has got back from Uganda without contracting a tropical parasite (this time) so that's good. Thus, you catch me at the end of a mixed week. (I know it's only friday but I plan to have a wonderful weekend so that won't count.) 

Ok, list time over. The problem with my busy week of reading is that I have plans to go watch the latest episode of The Walking Dead at my friend Percy's tomorrow. Don't worry, these things are related. I am a massive TV addict. I will shamefully admit this, and even go so far as to confess I am not even that choosy. Made in Chelsea? Love it. Skins? It's got a bit crap now, but don't care. I love the more high brow entertainments too, but my weakness is that I have to see the story through. If I watch one episode, I must watch every single episode of that show until they get cancelled. It's a sickness. However, although I have seen odd episodes of The Walking Dead (which by the way is totally awesome) I haven't seen all the episodes and I deemed it necessary to catch up on 2 seasons to be prepared for tomorrow. Did I get my long list of reading done? I did not. Don't judge me. 

This was part procrastination, as indeed the prospect of reading 950 collective pages didn't appeal, but the whole thing bit me in the ass in a variety of ways. Firstly, the obvious, I was a bit screwed in my seminars. I got the sci-fi book done, and creative writing, but I only managed half of the native american book and a fifth of the massive lesbian one. Today, I blagged my way through the seminars by the skin of my teeth, but I need to use that lesbian book for an essay eventually, and poor Jamie got stuck with me as a partner in the native american seminar and had to explain the plot to me instead of getting to have an actual discussion. Not cool. Friend points lost.  


However, this wasn't the only realisation I had from my WD marathon. When I got home today, deadline free and ready for the weekend, I sat down to watch the last few episodes, but I didn't particularly enjoy it. It wasn't WD's fault, I also made myself watch Grey's Anatomy and 30 Rock, but I didn't even want to watch TV. In truth I only started this blog because I wanted something to do other than that but I know the minute I publish this post I won't tidy my room, or bake, or read, or anything productive or, even, just fun and different. I will watch TV. Why?

TV has turned us into zombies (which, if you've seen WD, is quite ironic). I come home, sit down, and switch on, without even thinking. Whenever I emerge from my room to have tea with Jamie I end up talking about TV shows like it's something that actually happened in my life, or something that someone I know actually said. It's all I have to say when she asks about my day - how depressing is that? Then, when I return to my room, I can't do anything else before I watch something. And do I even want to? Not all the time. I watch programmes I don't even like just to procrastinate but when I've got actual free time TV is boring. Is it that I am just a lazy slob? (Don't answer that.) Or is life so boring or scary or sad that we feel the need to escape into 8 different fictional worlds in a day just to distract ourselves? I even wanted to finish those massive books today - they were actually really good (from what I read of them) - but even wanting to do something else wasn't enough, the box still drew me in. And when you think about how these shows have your time, your attention, your loyalty, you have to wonder; what is this power they have over me? And how, dare I ask, are they going to use it?

 

No Complaints Here

Hello Friends, and people who have no personal relationship with me but have a strange taste for gross stuff and way too much time on their hands :) 


I realise it may have been a while, apologies. It was recently my birthday and my very good friend (I can't remember if I've mentioned him before so we'll re-name him...Pedro) couldn't make it up to H-town which was very sad times. However, lucky for me he is a very talented graphic designer and in penance for his absence he sent me this: 

 For those of you of the simpler intellect, it's a book! My blogs are, in the loosest sense of the word, published! And he's even illustrated each blog, can you spot them all?

However, as the book ends at my last blog (virtual-oso for those who haven't read it - do it, I have it on good authority that it's a corker!) I've been apprehensive about writing a new one. Hopefully Pedro will get on to a sequel for my Christmas present...

Minor showing off out of the way now, let's begin! Today's blog begins with a paradox, or, at least, a fair whack of hypocrisy. I'm complaining about...complaining! Now how does that work?

I seem to be under some sort of terrible curse. I'll go to a restaurant, let's say with a group of friends, and order dinner as this tends to be what people do in restaurants and, as you know, I'm all about convention. However, and I must stress this fact, WITHOUT FAIL if there is going to be a dinner forgotten, it will be mine. If there is to be a chicken undercooked, mine will be that unfortunate bird. If I order a coke with no ice or lemon, or a burger with no lettuce, the fates have ordained that there shall forever be ice and lemon in that coke, and lettuce in that burger. I may be being a little melodramatic, but it's often my order that gets messed up, and I who has to do that heinous and most unpleasant of tasks: complaining. 

You must be thinking; 'But you're a blogger! You went on a 4 paragraphs-long rant because your best friend farts on the toilet and then flushes. Surely complaining comes as easily to you as not showering or trumping in public?' You would think, but no, dear friends, I cannot complain to save my life. I am a complete wuss. Yesterday I had to ring up a lady who'd given me a health test because what she prescribed wasn't working, and I had to have 3 practice run-throughs of the potential conversation with Jake first before I would even dial. 


I would say this may be a terribly uptight british thing but we LOVE complaining about stuff, in private. The weather, food, films, politics; you name it, we find fault with it, but if we get a hideous haircut, we still smile away when the hairdresser holds the mirror up at the back and asks 'is this ok?' and when the waitress asks that annoying question 'is everything ok for you here?' we nod and smile and even leave a tip at the end of the meal! I will wait for hours before I finally muster up the nerve to ask where my meal has got to, I will scoop the ice out of my coke and drop it on the floor (don't judge me) before I will mention that I said 'no ice'. Why do we do it? Because we don't want to cause a fuss, because we don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, because we'd rather risk samonella than send back our chicken and embarass everyone else around the table. It's nuts. 

And I'm not saying we should all go into our local McDonalds and demand five-star dining. I have worked in a shop and those annoying customers who come in and demand a return still bring me out in a cold sweat. But if someone provides a service or a product that's, frankly, crap, we shouldn't just grin and bear it, but say something with as much poise and serenity as we can muster. Don't be the kind of complainer that yells until their dinner gets refunded, but then their pudding comes with a not-so-secret spitty ingredient. A quiet word and a smile works infinitely better.

But you get these people who have the opposite problem to me, they complain about EVERYTHING trivial in life, and that's just as bad. Don't complain about stupid stuff like your crisps aren't crispy enough or your plate wasn't placed from the left and taken from the right. Get over it! There are so many bigger problems in the world, you could be using your complaing powers for good, and not for the dark side. I have very low standards for general food quality and hygiene standards *salutes*, if it's so bad that even I don't want to eat it, then I think it's time to speak up. But, as in all things, speak out against it if it's unfair, if not, just shut up and eat. There are people starving you know, complain about that, not how much dressing you got on your salad.