Wednesday, 19 January 2011

Of polar bears, jewellery and Margaret Atwood

I am now back in Hull and have been for a week. I have handed in two of my three essays. The gym is closed for refurbishment until Monday, and so I am happily taking advantage of this excuse for guilt-free laziness. I keep telling myself 'if the gym were open, I would definitely be there today - no doubt about it.' This may not be true but that is neither here nor there. The gym is not open. Therefore I do not have to go.

Rich came to visit over the weekend and I had a lovely time with him. We went for a poke about the shops on Newland Avenue during the day on Saturday, then went to the cinema and for a meal on the night. (Film: 127 Hours, which I thought was very good and nowhere near as gory as I was expecting. Meal: Frankie and Bennys, where we ate more food than 2 humans should perhaps ever consume. And it was amazing.) While I was slyly trying to take a picture of my pink cocktail, the waitress asked if we wanted a picture taken of the both of us. Which I did. Which Rich did not. Which was a shame for him, because the picture got taken.

Not the happiest of bunnies, is he?

There is my pink cocktail in the left. I think it was essentially rum and strawberry ice cream. Not that this is a cause for complaining. My outfit looks a bit boring here, like I'm off to work in an office, so I just feel like putting it out there that under the table, I am wearing a black miniskirt, burgundy tights, and stompy boots. Also, my earrings that you cannot really see are shaped like PEGASUS. Yep, the horse with wings Pegasus. Be jealous.

 This is another cocktail I drank on a different night. My plans of coming back to Hull and having no fun, spending all day in the library and the gym, and getting stuff done - well, what happened to them? Delicious £3 cocktails happened to them.

Today has been especially unproductive. I handed in a 3500 word essay, breathed a big sigh of relief, and proclaimed 'I AM FREE!' Although deep down, I knew I was not free. Not only did I have a 2500 word essay to write for Monday, I also had a room that had once again descended into chaos, books to read, travel insurance to sort out, and basically a dishevelled life to get in order. Despite all this gnawing at the back of my mind, I did the following things today: wasted time on Facebook; wasted time on Twitter; wasted time on the internet in general; ate a massive bowl of fruit; ate a massive veg stir fry; spent a long time reading Hyperbole and a Half and crying small tears from laughing so much; watching 16 and Pregnant; tidying my room. OK, so I finally got round to tidying my room, and I'm fettling together an essay plan right this very moment. Today, however, could have been a good essay day, one in which I made some headway, and it could have meant the difference between polishing it off on Sunday morning, cool as a cucumber, and pulling my hair out on Sunday night/Monday morning, wanting to cry as I copy and paste irrelevant quote after irrelevant quote. 

C'est la vie.

Uselessness aside, this is what I have looked like today. Today has been more productive than others in that I put on clothes this morning, and kept them on until I got changed for bed. Usually I change into pyjamas at about 5pm and then the wheels fall off and I spend the rest of the day lounging, watching trash TV, whining loudly to my housemates about how much work I have to do, and ultimately being a waste of space. Today the clothes stayed on, and while I did nothing worthwhile, this made me feel more like a useful member of society.

My room in Hull is HUGE. In my last house, I got the biggest room because it was at the front of the house on the ground floor, and nobody else wanted to be disturbed by the ruckus of the outside world, or be a prime target for any roaming burglars who may find their way into the house. I cared not for ruckus or burglars, and took the room. I found the ruckus more amusing than disturbing. Highlights included:
1. A pair of drunken men arguing over the paternity of a child. Think along the lines of 'He's mine!' 'No, he's mine!' only slurred and dotted with expletives.
2. A girl from next door being brought home drunk in a police car in the small hours of the morning, being carried by two policemen to the door, where her two male housemates then struggled to carry her into the house as she flailed wildly.
3. No roaming burglars came into the house, thank god.

In this house I got the biggest and nicest room, the attic room, through sheer luck when pulling numbers out of a hat. One day I will have to fit my entire life into a tiny cupboard sized room again, and I will be utterly lost. I will drown in a sea of clutter. 

Katie Price bedsheets, if you're interested. Fairy lights were a present from a friend. They're possibly my favourite thing in the universe and they are currently broken. Gutted does not even begin to cover it. I would like these to replace them. Possible Valentine's day present, if I drop enough hints. (Was sending him the link and saying 'buy me these' enough of a hint, do you reckon?)

One would wonder how I manage to be so damn useless when I am in possession of all these lists. These are more for colourful decoration than reference. 

I really like polar bears. I was never very much of an animal person until a year or so ago, and eventually my initial feelings of 'aww cute!' toward polar bears grew into a borderline obsession. For my 20th birthday, my younger sister adopted some polar bears in my name. She is a good sister.

This is my genius way of storing necklaces - hung on drawing pins on the wall! Classy. I enjoy jewellery, the bigger and brighter the better. The owl necklace, on the third hook from the right, was a Christmas present from my older sister. She is also a good sister.

More jewellery! 

This is where the fun ends.

This essay is fun, actually. Or as fun as essays can be. I'm a big fan of Margaret Atwood, and have been ever since I read Alias Grace as a young teenager. Cat's Eye is one of her novels that I truly enjoyed, and I have enjoyed it just as much while reading it with an analytical student mind, and will hopefully enjoy just as much when I write 2500 words about the effect of childhood experience on adult life within the novel. 

The polar bear I got with my adoption pack, and a brown bear that came free with John West tuna. My mother tells me that me and my sisters were never the biggest fans of cuddly toys when we were younger, so I'm not sure why, at 20 years old, I am suddenly embarassingly attached to two children's toys.

I'm going to watch the new episode of Episodes, mainly just to perv on Matt Leblanc (silver fox much?!) and sleep. Tomorrow I'm undecided as to whether to shop for holiday clothes, go to the library, or stay at home and have a leisurely day while working on my essay.

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