Superstitions: How a sore throat prevented a sore heart

“Mars squares up to Pluto and helps you accept a change not just easily but eagerly. You will welcome new faces, lively locations and be ready to test yourself. Single? Flirty smiles in a shopping centre could be the start of something special. Luck circles a J name.”

So after an absolutely perfect birthday weekend with my friends and family I am in bed a 6pm; not because of a hangover, but because I have a really sore throat and snuffly nose. In a weird way, I prefer this kind of ill because I get a little sympathy from my Mum, rather than if it was self-inflicted drinking sickness. However her sympathy only ever comes in small amounts; my brother once shouted at my Mum saying ‘You would make me go to school even if I had broken my leg’ and she replied ‘Of course I would, you don’t write with your leg!’. Saying that though, she has got a little better with sympathy since I had Peritonitis, I think she felt really bad that even though my Dad had taken me to A&E, she had still gone to get her hair done. I’m making my Mum sound awful, aren’t I? Honestly she is the kindest woman you will ever come across. Then again, one of the first things she said to me when I turned 18, with a sinister smile from ear to ear, was that she could no longer be convicted of child abuse. That is true Mum, but there is something called assault.

So, I was feeling all sorry for myself today and robbed a paper from a poor unsuspecting boy in the Common Room and got to the ‘Mystic Meg’ section. I used to be completely obsessed with Horoscopes, I would read them every day and believe them whole-heartedly. It got to the point where, if I read something in a Horoscope, I would make sure it happened, or if it didn’t I would twist things in my head so that it loosely made sense. Also, if my horoscope turned out to be a bad prediction it would put me on a downer. Alternatively, if it was good I would be ecstatic. I realised I was being stupid, living my life on what I read in these horoscopes, because if something really is meant to be, it's meant to be (prediction or not). I know that a lot of people think that it is a load of mumbo jumbo, but who doesn’t like to read their Star sign once in a while?

Now, for anyone who was to read that prediction, they would consider it good, but for me it was nothing short of terrible. And that is because of my track record with any boy with ‘a J name’.

I’m not going to beat around the bush here, and I will say straight off that any kind of contact with any boy whose name begins with J has been disastrous. You name them; Joe, Joe (that isn’t a mistake, there have been two) James, James (again, not a mistake) Josh, Jonathan and a Jamie. Boys whose names have began with ‘J’ have included ‘Waiter Boy’, ‘Lifeguard Boy’, and ‘Doll face Boy’. You could just call it coincidence, but when I realised a few months ago, I decided to swear myself off ‘J’ boys forever, or at least a little while. So can you now understand why I smacked my head on a metaphorical wall when I read Meg’s prediction?

Because, you see, however much I say I don’t believe in these things I still find myself finding an element of truth in them, and at that point in the day I was planning of going to Westfield later that night. I now feel, that although this terrible virus I am suffering from is making me feel lethargic and gives me a mini ten second migraine every time I stand up, I owe an element of gratitude too. If it weren’t for you I would have been standing in the middle of Westfield shouting ‘Jeh’, ‘Juh’ and ‘Jah’ and seeing who looked my way (probably everyone, that would look pretty stupid. Just imagine a ginger girl shouting that in the middle of a shopping centre, actually just imagine a ginger girl) or running between shops looking at boys name tags and then smiling flirtily at them, however you do that! Instead of that, I am sitting in bed eating my body weight in Malteaser Bunny’s and watching re-runs of Never Mind The Buzzcock’s, which is always more fun than failing in Love. So thank you stupid sore throat for saving my heart if even for one more day.

Something I have learnt lately is that just because someone thinks your life should end up one way it doesn’t mean that you need to abide by that and just because someone expects you to fail, it doesn’t mean that you give up trying. Nice try Mystic Meg.










Live. Laugh. Love

Life-Nav

 Ever since I passed my driving test, I've got lost many times as well as cried in many car parks because I couldn't find a space that has at least five free either side so I can get in it without crashing. Thankfully, my mum has alway been on hand to get me into or out of spaces, or there has always been a friend that can get out and guide me around a bollard at a McDonald’s drive-thru, so no crashes just yet. Touch wood. I feel very lucky that my mum invested in a Sat-Nav a while ago so whenever I am on my own and unbelievably lost I can just plug the woman in and if she is feeling in a good mood she finds exactly where I am and how I can get home. However, because my mum bought a cheap one, sometimes the woman gets mardy and she coincidentally has an ‘ERROR LOADING MAPS’. Me and my Mum had this problem in Brighton and we think it was because we left her in the glove compartment whilst we went for a Chinese, and so she was getting her own back. I’m sure machines don’t quite have the ability to think things through like that, but you try explaining to the man at Curry’s why, whenever we ignore her and turn left instead of right, she seems to become a little bitchy.

But I was in the shower this morning and I started wondering if we could have a Sat-Nav for our journeys in life. Like, what if we could program in where we wanted to end up and it would take us there, so that we knew we were on the right track? You see, if we had a Life-Nav, we could program in little detours and landmarks we wanted to stop at along the way. That would be amazing, wouldn’t it?

I’m sure I won’t be alone in saying that sometimes I feel a little lost in life, like I’m kind of driving along the motorway looking for a junction that seems appealing, sounds familiar, or seems close to where I want to get to. Do you ever feel like you're driving at what you think is the appropriate pace, yet everyone else is speeding right past you? Or even the other way around; you're driving so fast you're leaving everyone behind? And you find that even when you're driving along at the right speed, someone will come along and cut you up, making your heart race or making you really angry, and then you will spend the next leg of your journey thinking about it, distracting you from the real things you should be concentrating on.

There are people and things in life that are put there as obstacles. Imagine you're driving along at full speed and you were to hit a pothole that you didn’t see coming. It would certainly shake you up, and may even cause some damage to the car that may take time and money to fix. What if that pothole was a boy? Metaphorically speaking. What if you were going so fast in a relationship that you couldn’t see what was coming? What if that pothole you hit symbolised a broken heart? Making you feel stupid for not seeing the signs and the people frantically waving their arms to tell you to slow down, because they saw what was coming before you did.

Junctions in life can sometimes be the trickiest. Do you turn left or right? If you know where you are going, it's fine, but what if you were to get to the junction and have no idea of the direction you were meant to be heading in? Also, what's worse is that there may be cars piling up behind you, pipping and revving their engines causing you to take the wrong direction - people who got so frustrated that you couldn’t make up your mind about what you what you wanted to do in life that they pressured you into something you weren’t completely happy with. What if you know where you want to be going, yet you can’t seem to be able to pull out, and no one is being kind enough to let you out? Well, as my Driving Instructor used to tell me, you sometimes need to push your way out, and be a little Meerkat... (Anyone who had Andy Nightingale, the best driving instructor ever, you will understand what I mean).

Then there are the corners in life, those ones that are so tight that they have to have a sign, saying ‘SLOW’. Picture if that was a corner you were taking in life, a corner that you couldn’t see round, yet you were driving at full pelt around it after ignoring everyone's advice to reduce your speed. How about if you were halfway round that corner and in the middle of the road there was a fallen tree and you didn’t have time to stop? What if you hadn’t been so stubborn and you had listened to everyone's warnings and taken the corner with a little more precaution. You would have been able to stop, and things would of turned out differently.

What about those people on the side of the road? People that will walk into the road unexpectedly, or pedestrian crossings and traffic lights; all things that cause you step on the brakes and stop for a little while. People may even throw things at your car that may smash the windscreen meaning you cannot see the road ahead. Coming across these inconveniences are facts of life, in the literal as well as metaphorical sense. But look on the bright side, you may end up with Gavin from Auto Glass replacing your window. Every cloud has a silver lining and all that!

Then there’s the illnesses you experience. It may only be a blown light bulb, or little scratch on the passenger side, or a dint in the bonnet caused by a trolley in Sainsbury’s. These may be relatively cheap, easy and quick to fix with a visit to the garage. Or a packet of Soothers and a magazine or a Disney princess plaster over your elbow. But what if its something more serious, something caused in a crash or by something somehow becoming unconnected? A broken leg perhaps, or a burst appendix? These take longer to fix, leaving behind visible scars, causing the car or person problems in the future. Maybe like me, even a year of after being in hospital for a month and having many complications with Peritonitis, you are still having to go back to hospital to see specialists and to have an MRI Scan. (I am fine, don’t worry. However I have no idea why I have to have an MRI, the doctor said some big words and then said I needed an MRI, so I just nodded).

However what happens when there is something wrong with the engine, the heart of the car? You see, affairs of the heart cannot always be seen from the exterior. A broken heart takes time to heal, probably more so than an engine. A lot of delicate work needs to be accomplished and sometimes no matter how many people work on fixing that engine, it can take just one person to get it working again, just like with the heart. Many boys may come along and try to fix your heart, but sometimes it takes just one. One person who has that extra skill or steady hand and patience to really understand how you work.

I have always thought that we all go too fast in life. We are so conscious of getting to where we want to be quickly that we forget to take in the view. Sometimes so fast that we manage to get lost. So lost in fact, that we have no idea where we are, and we drive round in circles trying to find a road that seems familiar, or a sign that tells us the direction in which we should be heading. The fact is that by doing this you may eventually find yourself back on the right track, but really you are just making yourself even more lost, and you are wasting time and energy. Eventually you are going to burn out.

There is no shame in pulling over for a while and finding the map out from your boot, or asking a passer by where the hell you are. Sometimes these strangers offer you the best advice, just like an old man I was talking to the other day, they often have experience and wisdom to pass onto you. And if you happen to be as lucky as I was, that old man may just have the ability the reassure your faith in Love.







Live. Laugh. Love

Man Detox

I have decided to have a ‘No Man March’. Wait, I don’t mean I’m going to start a protest against the male existence, although that sounds really appealing right now. No, I mean that I’m going on a bit of detox. A ‘man detox’, if you will. Now, I’ve never been any good at the food kind of detoxes, so I am slightly sceptical about how a month on a man-free diet will go. I feel like I have been on a bit of a binge of bad food lately, and you would be right in thinking that ‘bad food’ loosely translates to ‘bad boys’. 

You see boys are like food. And just like food there are two types; good and bad.

We all know those bad types; the ones that always taste so good, and look really appetizing. Your mouth waters and your heart races as they pull up outside and ring the doorbell, you open the door and there you are faced with the guy who is always there when you ring him saying you want him (although he is usually late). And the best thing is that he has a 13 inch... Pizza. This pizza smells so good and whilst you are eating it, it is amazing. But then once it has finished, then comes the stomach cramps and sick feeling in your stomach. That feeling of regret, and wondering why your ever ate it. But whilst you were eating it you were so happy, even if you were paranoid that anyone else was going to nab a piece whilst your back was turned.
And when you look at the calories on the box you realise why you are left with a terrible taste in your mouth. You start to wonder why you never looked at this before you ordered the pizza and before you started to eat it. Because knowing what you know now, would you ever of picked up the phone? 

The truth is that you never learn from this. The pizza is the same every time, yet you always think it will be different and you won’t be left feeling like your going to vom when your taking the box to the bin.

I don’t no if anyone will understand my food comparisons, but basically, bad boys always seem amazing at first. Whilst you are going through all the excitement, you have no idea how you are going to feel when you realise he has messed you around. You feel like crap, and you need too have a lie down, and sleep it off. 

Then you have your ‘salads’ of this world. Those boys that will make you feel really good about yourself and, at the end of the day, it’s good for you and you feel healthy. The salad makes you feel great, it does everything a food should do for you, and it has no nasty side effects. But as with any healthy food, it’s good for a short time, but after a while you start to feel unfulfilled, and you need something else, something a little more exciting. And that something exciting involves lashings of full fat mayonnaise.

People always say that you need to eat healthy and avoid those cream cakes and chip cobs if possible. Have you realised that people say the exact things about relationships? ‘He’s a bad boy, avoid him’. I don’t no if it’s just me, but I have to experience and see things first hand to believe them, and how will you ever know whether you like a food unless you have tried it? Apart from ‘Salmon’ boys though, those boys are just trying to be something there not, I would never try them.

But then there is another type of food. The good and bad kind, the kind we really enjoy, but don’t get horrible side effects from. The ‘strawberry dipped in chocolate’s of this world are the best. Very tasty, slightly naughty, but yet you get all of the nutrients a fruit gives you. Now I’ve never had one of these before. I mean relationships, I have lost count of how many heavenly strawberries dipped in chocolate I have had, but as far a boy is concerned, zilch.

They always say that you need a balanced diet, a bit of good, and a bit of bad, 5 fruit and vegetables alongside a cheeky Dairy Milk once in a while. Maybe that’s what we need with men too. 

Gwyneth Paltrow (that woman is weird) says that when you have eaten to much bad food for a long period of time, to get it out of your system, you need a detox. So that’s what I’m going to do. You see I was having one of those healthy diets (Good boy) and then I got a bit bored and wanted a huge box of Maltesers (Bad Boy). So I had one. But now the thought of Maltesers repulse’s me (not the actual food kind though. Dear God No!).


If you hadn’t worked it out, ‘Lifeguard boy’ is a Dominoes pizza, so lovely at the time, but you know what, I wish I had never even looked at the menu. But that’s for another blog!


I want a Strawberry Dipped in chocolate, don’t you?







Live. Laugh. Love

Brighton

Do you ever get to that stage where all you want to do is hide away for a few days? Catch a train to the coast, and spend a few days in a B&B by the seaside? Sit in cosy little window seats in quite cafes, drinking hot chocolate while the rain is pouring down outside? Spend whole mornings eating toast and honey whilst listening to Laura Marling, Mumford & Sons and Jose Vanders? Do you ever feel like your head is all jumbled up simply because you haven’t had time to sort it out because you have been to busy to sit down and think?

Thats exactly how I feel right now, and to be honest that's the reason I haven’t been writing any blogs lately. I really haven’t had anything motivational to say - because I haven’t felt particularly motivated myself. The place where I live has finally got the better of me. I call the small village where I live 'God’s waiting room', because thats what it is; a place where people come to die. Its incredibly depressing to walk over the same field every day to 6th form, seeing the same parents dragging their kids to school, and having a constant feeling of deja vu. I sit staring at the same piece of coursework for days on end, with so much to say, but being unable to put my words into any kind of logical order. It’s so stupid, I can’t complete my own work to any kind of high standard, but I can quite easily go over someone else’s and improve it for them.

Writing this I have realised this melancholy I am feeling is because I am angry with the world. No, don’t worry, I’m not about to have a go at everyone in the world, I’m just fed up with the way this world works. I’m tired with the way people judge others when they don’t know them and criticise someones' decisions when they don’t know how they are feeling, or their whole story. I’m fed up with how people think its acceptable to treat someone like something on the bottom of their shoe because they are from a different friendship group, race, class or they happen to have done something to make themselves happy instead of someone else for a change. I’ve had enough of people who complain about everyone and everything. Yes, I get it, you have an opinion, but it’s not a nice one, so keep it to yourself please. Oh and one other thing, I cannot cope with any more people not saying 'thank you' when I hold the door open for them. I’m not saying that everyone is like this, but there’s just those few isn’t there? The people who have faces like slapped arses all the time, and make it there sole purpose in life to make everyone else around them as bitchy and as miserable as they are.

I sound incredibly unhappy with my life, don’t I? I’m not, I honestly love everything about it; my amazing friends (who have put up with a lot, and not just recently), incredibly supportive family and a little situation I have going on with someone I like to call ‘Life Guard boy’. I don’t think its anything to be ashamed of to say that you have sometimes have down days, weeks, months or (in extreme cases), years. I am incredibly grateful to say that I only ever have the occasional bad week, because I know and have heard of so many people my age with bad times that stretch over months and years. I honestly believe that if depression wasn’t considered such a taboo, there would be many more people that would seek help, to stop this terrible mental state spiraling out of control.

So tomorrow, I am going to throw some clothes in a bag and I am going to Brighton with my Mother and I’m going to go running down the promenade at sunrise, eat amazing food, go to Salsa Clubs, get a facial, sleep in all morning, drink bottles of wine and visit all of the lovely little book shops and boutiques for a total of five days. You see people in Brighton have a different kind of outlook on life that I’ve never come across anywhere else in this country. Maybe it was just the people I came across, but being there gave me a better perception on people in general. Last time I was there I was walking through the street at about 6pm and a woman walked past me and she was on the phone, but I heard her say ‘one second’ and she said to me ‘I love your dress, you look beautiful’ and she just carried on walking and I was a little bit shocked so I just shouted ‘Thanks!’. Its not only that though, one night when me and my Mother were a little bit drunk and we were walking down the promenade. There was a group of lads about 20 years old and they were playing frisbee. When my mum gets drunk, she gets like a 5 year old. The frisbee got thrown our way, and my mum grabbed the it and said she would only throw it back if she could play. It’s safe to say I was mortified. Whats worse though is that because she couldn’t see straight, she was throwing the frisbee in completely the wrong direction and then shouting ‘Where were you?! Your crap at this game’ and the lads just took it. I felt so sorry for them! But what I’m saying is, why can’t everyone be nice and get on with everyone just like that?

I suppose the world doesn’t work like that, which is a real shame to be honest. But for five whole days, I get to pretend it does.

If we get enough people to pretend that this world is like this, do you think it could be?

Why don’t we try?

Live. Laugh. Love.

I am your Guru

Long time, No BLOG.

A while ago, I had a really horrific break up. You know, one of those ones where you eat tubs of Ben and Jerry's to yourself whilst sobbing and nodding along to 'He's just not that into you' . The ones where you replay everything in your head to try and work out the first signs of trouble, want to spit at any couple that look happy and download loads of cheesy 90's pop songs because you 'relate' to them. It's safe to say I've had a few. I think that there are two types of breakups: the ones where there's a possibility of getting back together and the ones where you know that's the end. Well, this was the later. So, therefore, I had to 'get over' him. I've never understood the term 'get over', I just think 'Well, when was I ever under him?' Oo-er.

How do you get over someone? And like whenever you want the answer to one of life's unanswerable questions, you google it. I looked at 'how to get over someone' and '10 quick tips on how to make him want you back' both equally stupid and both counted on every girl but me, in a 100 mile radius being stuck down with a terrible skin condition which meant they couldn't leave their house, use Facebook, or ring nor text anyone.

One thing I did sign up to though was a self-acclaimed 'Guru' called 'Christian Carter', who at first I thought was the greatest man in the world. He promised me that he would email me twice a week and give me detailed instructions on how to get any man I wanted. Like all relationships, the honeymoon period is the best. He always emailed when he said he would, listened to my problems (you can send in your dating dilemmas, and he picks the most common ones and writes an article about how to solve them) and always gave me the best advice. Then, like so many relationships, the honeymoon ended, and our communication started breaking down. He was always late and apologised profusely, and I am pretty sure he had the same relationship with me that he had with many other women. So I started ignoring his emails, and i found someone else called Dairy Milk, who has never once let me down. Alright, I'm going to stop now. I had had enough of him telling me everything I had ever done wrong in my relationships, that I added his email address to the spam bin and have never looked back, until the other day when a nervous sweat came over me that some of my UCAS emails may have been sitting in there unnoticed.

Christian carter calls himself a 'relationship coach' whatever one of those is. The last experience of a coach that I had was when I used to swim competitively, and her death stare when you got cramp still gives me nightmares to this day. Whenever I think about Christian being my 'relationship coach' I just get mental images of him making me drop and give him 30 sit-ups if I were to confess my toilet activities in the first 5 minutes of meeting a boy (which I seem to do a lot lately).

According to Christian Carter, these are the things that, if you remember, you are guaranteed a long and happy relationship:

1.Successful dating involves setting realistic match criteria
2.Successful dating involves establishing dating boundaries
3.Successful dating means being prepared and upbeat
4.Successful dating means keeping things simple and fun
5.Successful dating means dating the right people for you
6.Successful dating means being realistic about your expectations
7.Successful dating means being patient

Okay... So I automatically fail, seeing as the person I have my eye on at the moment is Andy Murray, and it would also help if I had a clue what dating boundaries are. Then there's number 3, I won't go into it now but I can remember I once went on a date with someone who I called 'Waiter boy' because I couldn't remember his name, and another where I started crying half way through because it was going so badly. I suggest you don't talk to me about simple - nothing in my dating life has ever been simple, especially when you realise your past 3 boyfriends have been with the same girl who once threw a fruit pastille at you for being ginger. The same again for 'the right person'; please take my advice when I say, don't carry on seeing someone who says his phone only rings and text's at certain times, because it's funny that a few past 'dates' have been on the same network that does this. Also, can we get it clear whether realistic expectation's are for a boy to send group text message to all the girls he has been seeing say 'Night, Beautiful' because if so, I've got that one covered. Oh please don't get me started on being patient, most of the toast I eat is still bread because I can't wait for our new toaster to work.

It's safe to say that these things sound really simple in theory, but in practice are a little more difficult (for me anyway). So I was looking on the internet as to how to become a 'Relationship Coach' and quite unbelievably you don't have take any exams or have any kind of real relationship experience to be one, so I figured I was more than qualified. (The exams being the English A-level I am taking at the moment, all about love and marriage, and blooming' 'eke does it make me want to commit sui). So from now on you can call me Rose - blog extraordinaire and relationship coach, and here are your Top Ten Dating Tips, that may not get you your Prince Charming but will definitely secure yourself a life alone, only to be found dead at 40 with you face half eaten by your cat.


1. '1471' is your best friend. It means that whenever you ring your 'waste of air' he will have to pick up to know its you, as opposed to breaking out into a sweat when he sees your name pop up on his phone. Also you can pretend those 23 missed calls he received in the middle of the night, must have been from someone abroad.

2. Talk about all of your past relationships on the first date, just so they are aware that you already know everything a boy will try to do break it off with you. He needs to have CSI planning to get out of this one.

3.Make sure wherever you go on a date has a toilet close to the door. Therefore, if it goes badly, you can pretend that you accidentally walked through the wrong door, got lost and had to go all the way home to the toilet.

4. Wear comfortable shoes, so that you can run, if you ever have to use tip 3.

5. Blind dates require you to be just that, as well as deaf. An attractive person will never go on a date set up by another person, they usually turn out to be incredibly desperate, there's a reason you have never set that date up yourself.

6. Don't tell someone you want to be friends when you split up with them. You split up with them because you don't want relationship with them, because what boyfriends' are are boys you are friends with who you can kiss. When you take away those benefits, you realise how fickle they are.

7. Always try to meet your date somewhere busy, and turn up late. Therefore if you don't like the look of them you can pull your hood over your head and walk on.

8. Don't be ashamed of the fact you were sick in your mouth when he said he 'has never felt this way about anyone before', you will probably do the same thing when you find out how many other girls he has said it too.

9. If you know he cheated on his last girlfriend, get one of those tablet sized tracker devices and put it in his food, therefore you will always know where he is, so that you can pop up at anytime. However, depending on how fast his digestive system is, it may lead you to a sewage works.

10. And finally, make sure that he definatly knows you are ginger before agreeing for a date with them

LIVE. LAUGH. LOVE

Bloody Nora.

First of all I would like to say that I hope you all had a very lovely Christmas and that Santa brought you everything you wanted. I was hoping to post a blog before Christmas but lack of imagination and time (I am the most awful planner at Christmas) prevented me from doing that.


Right now I am taking a break from my coursework for Textiles and English, mainly because after sitting at a computer for 3 hours and then realising everything you have written sounds like your single handedly destroying the English language is a bit demoralising. Plus I am a little bit sick of Nora from ‘A Doll’s House’. Everyone else in my class thinks the play has a really good ending (if you haven’t read it, she basically leaves her whole life behind to start a new one, and will never, ever get in touch with anyone from her old life again) but it makes me really angry, mainly because I think that would be completely impossible.


So there I was staring a blank page with my hands poised over the keyboard and all I wanted to do was ring up Henrik Ibsen and tell him to write another ending. A bit hard really because of the fact that I don’t speak any Norwegian and that he is dead.


Staring at a blank page feels a little bit like staring at my life right now. It’s plain, it has no lines I have to abide by and I can do whatever I want with it. But something’s stopping me, and that something is me. Now the reason I stare blankly at the page when I want to write a blog is not necessarily because the lack of things I have to write about but because I have set myself a standard and a goal that I won’t let myself slip from. But with my life I don’t really have anything I have to live up to, I have achieved a lot of things in my short life, but there is nothing I really have compare too. It makes me really mad at myself that I find it possible to throw away everything I am aiming for, just because there are so many other things out there I could do. I think it’s because I'm a little scared. I constantly wish that I could go maybe 10 or 20 years into the future just so I could see how everything is going to work out, just so I could know that I'm heading in the right direction and so I maybe could change a few things.


I was talking to my dance teacher the other day and I was saying how I would like to go to the future and see how everything is going turn out and she said that it's that feeling of unknown that is the excitement of it all. She has only recently become the Principle of the Dance school, something she has wanted since she was even younger than me. She told me how she had no idea that her dreams would come true and if you would have told her only a year ago that this was how it was going to turn out she would have laughed. Okay, so that made me feel a little bit better.


However thanks to bloody Nora (no pun intended), I am now doubting my whole existence. Nora thinks that she is able to leave her past behind, and you get the feeling that she thinks it will never creep up on her. Something all us know is impossible. No matter how much you try to put things behind you, they always pop up again exactly at the wrong time and I'm sure if the play didn’t end there, a few years down the line Nora and Torvald would bump into each other in Starbucks when Nora had just been to the gym and had forgotten her make-up and Torvald was with his new prettier girlfriend.


Maybe not, but that’s what happened to me the other day.


What I'm trying to say is that the great thing about life is that it is a never ending pile of blank paper. You are going to come across people who will write in different colours, some just in black, some will write scruffy and some not much at all. Some people may draw themselves lines to stick to and some may have lines drawn for them they don’t want to abide by. But more than anything, everyone’s paper is going to be different. Near enough at any time we are able to take that written on, crumpled, tipex blotched and doodled on piece of paper and throw it in the bin and take another piece. It may not always be as easy as that, but it is always an option. However, I'm afraid; it is not possible to empty the bin. There are mistakes, stories and doodles on those pages you will never truly let go of and there will be a part of you that won’t want to throw them away. That’s why you have to make sure that on the new piece of paper the story is even better than before, the doodles funnier and most importantly, if a boy, a mistake or something crappy happens to tear that paper, make sure you have the best cello tape ever the stick it back together, your friends.


 
Disclaimer
I am in no way condoning wasting or using huge amounts of paper. SAVE THE RAINFOREST :)
 
 
Live. Laugh. Love.

Cherubim

I hate my blackberry.

In response to my first sentence, I would like just say that usually I am all love for my Blackberry. It has helped me when I’m lost, found phone numbers when I have an intense need for Chinese food and has been a saviour when I am without a pen and paper and I have a rush of blog ideas. However I am afraid, I fell out of love with my blackberry when a month ago it lost all calendar events, pictures and worst of all, my phone numbers.
Yes. I did cry. Which I think is justified, as I was feeling very emotional at the time and I had forgot to reply to someone, who was nearly impossible to get the number for. Needless to say I was gutted.
Of course I received the standard replies when I told people my Blackberry had wiped my memory, mostly that I should have got an iPhone. Even the man at the orange shop said it! His face must have been a picture when I shouted ‘I have fat fingers’ at him and stormed out of the shop. (Fat fingers being the reason I don’t have an iPhone, I wasn’t just shouting about my unfortunately obese hands)
I got most of the numbers I needed off my friends, but there are still contacts I don’t have and are now impossible to get hold of, but everyone has a text style and unknown numbers I get texts from every so often, are usually pretty easy to work out.

From previous blogs you may know that I don’t have the best of luck when it comes phones and texting, and this bad luck continued when I received a one-word text at 2 a.m, from an unknown number. All it said was: ‘Cherubim’. Just one word, no kisses or anything fancy, just ‘Cherubim’. First of all I was very pissed off to be woken up to my phone buzzing on my forehead at 2 in the morning (I usually fall asleep whilst texting, and drop the phone on my face) and secondly what the hell is a ‘Cherubim’?

So I did what any smart person would do… I googled it. This is the gist of what I got:

1. A celestial being.
2. Theology. A member of the second order of angels often represented as a beautiful rosy-cheeked child with wings.
3. A beautiful or innocent person, esp. a child.
4. A person, esp. a child, with a sweet, chubby, innocent face.
5. Plural of Cherub

Okay, so basically I am being called the plural version of a Cherub, a beautiful child, or fat. Great.

I also thought about predictive text, a rubbish invention that I have suffered at the hands of for many years. But when I typed it into my friends phone, the only option I got was ‘Chest2ho’ so unless it’s a really bad new name for a brothel, I doubt it’s a predictive text error!

I have come to the conclusion that this text must of come from someone who knew what the word meant, but this makes me freak out even more. Now I’m not going to mention a name, but I have an ex-boyfriend - a very clever boy– who used to send things like this to me as a way of getting me to talk to him again. In my naivety, it always used to work. He always had a way of getting into my head, and messing me up again. He was one of those people who used to say something that you thought was a compliment, but after some thought you realized it was either utterly patronising or down right rude, ‘You look well’ being one of them. Also this ex-boyfriend always used to get really pissed off when I had deleted his number and I had to ask who the text was from. The more I thought about it the happier I got that my phone had deleted all my numbers. If by some slight chance that this text was from him, by my phone having an epileptic fit, it meant he didn’t get back inside my head, like so many times before.

I have tried on several occasions to try and find out who it was, I have text them asking them who they are, asked other people to type the number into there phone, but I have had no luck. It has played on my mind so much I have considered putting the number on here!

But you know what, what is life without mystery?

Of course if the person who sent me that text on the 10th November 2010 at 1.59am, I would love to know who you are, and you will be able to say you have had a blog written about you.

I am such a hypocrite.


Update

I thought I would update you on how I am doing with my list. I am starting Tango next week, I am so excited, and thank you very much to the person who has helped me loads my informing me on lessons in my area.
I am pooing myself…. I am going to Karaoke tonight! I am really, really terrified, but something terrible will probably happen and I will inform you next week on how it went.

Ta Ta for now
Live. Laugh. Love.