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.

I have started writing poems...

Publishing this is more scary than telling everyone about my blog. Please be nice, and sorry for it being so depressing...


Don't Call Me Your Baby

I'm a dreamer. It's understandable too,
When we live like this. Only a privaleged few
Get out this place. "See the light,
Face the people. Prove you're right.
To say what you say and do what you do"
Unless of course you're wrong. That wouldn't be anything new.
I've been challanged before, my beliefs ripped apart,
I pieced it back together, called it art.
Call your people, I'll shout mine.
Dig them up. Lose my mind
But I won't shed a tear. Thats not me
Down there, looking up. Wouldn't you agree?
Patience running out. I slam my fist to the wall,
Lean back, hit the floor. Wonder, if all
My problems are solved. Elastic band round my heart
Lose concept of time, oh, thats only the start.
Knock them back. Then pass out.
A better place, without a doubt.
Sweetheart I wouldn't worry, I'm not as clever as I look.
Learning how to be happy doesn't come from a book.
Lies to be remembered, promises to be forgot.
Good will come out of it, you'll be damned if not.
Hold my breath for a while, slump against the door.
Tell my body I was joking but it doesn't laugh anymore.
Beauty pulls out a cigerette and asks for a light,
Of course I oblige as anyone might.
Call me a sinner, it won't make you a saint.
Life is waiting, I don't want to be late.
Wrap a rope round my neck then kiss me goodnight
And for a moment...
I will take flight.


By Me


I will be back with a proper blog very soon. Thankyou for reading.

My Year In Lists.

Ive just seen the Coca- Cola Christmas advert, and like many other people, it means my Christmas has officially started!

As you can probably tell, I love christmas. I love everything about it:  pretty lights, the smell of the trees, seeing my family, people being in better moods, and of course the parties and lots of food! But in all this hype about christmas, it might sound stupid, but I forgot that its only 37 days until this year is over. Done.

When I realised, I started to get really scared and sad that a year in which I had planned so much for and expected so much of has kind of passed me by. Don't get me wrong, this year has produced many amazing memories, but not the ones I had expected. If you know me well, you probably know that my life is predominatly run by the lists I write, and before the 1st January I wrote a list of all the things I was going to do in 2010. Now you should know my lists are very importants to me, and in my warped reasoning, help me achieve things in my life.
So heres my list (the ones with stars next to them, are the ones I have done):
 
1.Forgive all the people who have ever done bad things to me, or upset me*
2.Have the night*
3.Find out what I want to do with my life*
4.Jump from the tree in Chatsworth, into the river
5.Sleep underneath the stars*
6.Go somewhere abroad*
7.Learn to play Guitar, so I can play the songs I have written lyrics for
8.Sing a song to an audience
9.Conquer a fear
10.Start a blog*
11.Go on a road trip with my friends
12.Be able to drive*
13.Puddle jump*
14.Go to a karaoke and sing
15.Sit on a roof top
16.Record a song
17.Be part of a flash mob
18.Do a ‘Slip And Slide’
19.Get lost somewhere*
20.Roll in mud
21.Draw money out of an ATM and shout ‘IVE WON!’*
22.Go to Toys’R’us
23.Go to a festival*
24.Milk a cow
25.Have my fortune told
26.Be naked on a nudist beach
27.Make a bet on the grand national
28.Send a message in a bottle
29.Open the door to a salesman and just scream until they go away
30.Sing loudly in the car with the windows open in a traffic jam*
31.Pull an all-nighter*
32.Go camping*
33.Write a diary*
34.Win something. Anything.*
35.Get something pierced
36.Write a postcard
37.Get a job*
38.Make a time capsule and bury it somewhere, and set a date to open it
39.Give a Valentines card to someone who will never find out who sent it
40.Feed the ducks
41.Run through the water fountain in derby
42.Leave a love note on a persons windscreen, who I don't know
43.Finish a crossword on my own*
44.Get something named after me
45.Get something on my body photocopied
46.Grow something*
47.Learn how to pull a pint
48.Go to a Salsa club and stay till after midnight
49.Take Tango lessons
50.Fly a kite
51.Make a dress*
52.Find my passion*
53.Have that crazy moment*
54.Learn to not take things as personally*
55.Meet a celebrity*
56.Give blood
57.Go on a walk to somewhere I've never been*
58.Go to an auction
59.Run 5 miles*
60. Fall truly, endlessly and hopelessly in love


You'd think that in a entire year I would be able to do 60 things wouldn't you? Wrong. I have only completed 25, thats less than half. Not only am I now a failure in the things other people want me to do, but a failure in what I want myself to do!
 
Ok, so the things I have done.

Forgiving all the people was a massive step for me, especially when it came to the girls that made my life hell for a year in secondary school, but the woman on the mobility scooter who ran over my foot and left me a limp for a week, was the hardest to forgive! Whilst learning not to take things as personally took a while longer. Can you imagine being in a wheelchair and hearing a lad go ''She's a bit of alright'' and his friend say ''Yeh, but mate she's in a wheelchair''? I have never wanted to be Andy from Little Britain so much in my whole life!
Please tell me you know what THE night is? Well, you know in films, where the man and woman stay up all night and learn absolutly everything about each other and it's really romantic? To your surprise I have had THE night, unfortunatly, now its not that much of a great memory as all the things he told me where fabricated lies and as we were at a party, many people ocassionly threw up around us. But at least I can tick it off my list!
I have found out what I want to do with my life, alongside finding my passion, and that is journalism and writing for all you lovely people, so therefore I have started my blog. Also the more and more I think about it, it's a bit like a diary (okay so thats a bit of cheating but...) Tick!
Sleeping underneath the stars was not as cool as it sounds, as it was when I went abroad (Tick), I was sunbathing, fell asleep and woke up in pitch black with stars above my head. But I will admit, although it was cold, it was a nice thing to wake up too.
Being able to drive has coincided with getting lost. Everytime I go out, I end up getting lost, I will admit it was scary the first few times. When you drive past the same old lady with a trolley five times, its not because she is moving quickly, its because you keep going : left, left, left and left again.
Number 21 is one of the funniest things I have ever done and its surprising how many people say ''Oh, really? How much?'' and sound excited for you (maybe they though I was crazy) definitely give it a go! Another was the festival and camping. It was probably one of the greatest weekends of my life, including two all-nighters, and there are things that will make me laugh for years to come.
Now for the crazy moment, or moments. If you read all blogs you will know I have had many moments where I have looked like a person who had escaped from a mental asylum, but one that really stick in my mind was I was in M&S shortly after I had come out of hospital. I kept having wierd moments of feeling unbelievably ill, where all I could do was sit on the floor, shut my eyes, and wait for it to pass. Well one of these moments happened when I was at the checkout while my mum was paying for some food. It came on so fast that all I had time to do was crouch down and rest my head on the side of the conveabelt. I eventually managed to get to the wall, where I sat and my mum passed me my drink, which was fizzy orange. In a rush to open it, I undid it to fast which meant it fizzed all over my hands, crotch and the floor. At which point the loveliest lad who worked there came over and helped me move and handed me some tissues and made sure I was okay. When the illness was wearing off he asked me if I knew where the toilet was. In a moment of madness, I thought that he thought I had wet myself, afterall there was yellowy liquid on the floor and my crotch was wet, and I stood up and shouted 'I haven't wet myself!'. Shortly after walking off in disgust I realised he had said it because I needed to wash my hands. My Mum said he looked gutted.
The others on the list are pretty self-explanitory.

The things I haven't done.

There is one that sticks out, and that would be the last one. To fall truly, endlessly and hopelessly in love. The one thing on the list I was hoping to achieve. It made me realise that as much as I am not that big a fan of 'love', its not something you can plan or arrange. It's pretty much the same with life aswell. I had planned this year in such detail, it was almost impossible to follow. Probably the biggest destroyer of the plan was when, 16 days into the year, I was taken ill and confined to a hospital bed for a month. But nearly losing this year, and the rest of my life made me realise you have a life to live, and you only get one chance. It doesn't matter how mishapen it becomes, aslong as you make the best out of it, because its your life and no-one else's.

However,I am making a plea. A plea to anyone who can help me achieve the rest of the things on my list before 2011 starts. Please no-one creepy for the last one...
 
For the next 37 days I will be rapidly running round town, just to tick some things on a list.
 
 
Live. Laugh. Love

Who will buy?

Last week me and my friend voluteered to sell poppies. A task which involved walking round the entire school shaking a donation box, being offered 2p for five, and defending ourselves from insults the year 7's threw at us. I also felt reluctant to give up my break and lunchtimes as I am yet to finish my personal statement for my university applications, a task which I find incredibly difficult as all I seem to be able to do is take the piss out of myself. I don't know how I am meant to make a University believe in me, when I don't particularily believe in myself.
Anyway, as me and my also ginger friend (you don't see that very often now do you?) were walking round the school, shouting like we were on a market stall, we recieved a bit of abuse from a year 10 who I find particularily terrifying . Now I dont know if you know that you can no longer get pins for poppies when you buy them from a school. Well this was the reason me and my friend weren't wearing one as we had no way of fastening it to ourselves and, as we expected, it was commented on. The lad (who you wouldn't want to meet down a dark alley) shouted, ''I'll buy one when you wear one!''. Although me and my ginger friend both ran off at this point, with scarlet faces and shame that someone 3 years younger than us had made us look stupid, I thought it was a valid point.

Why do we persuade people to do things we don't do ourselves? Why do we make people believe things we are not sure of personally? And how are we meant to justify doing something when the person telling you to do it, wouldn't do it either?

This made me think of my personal statement and asking people to give me a chance. Why do I think that by someone giving me the oppurtunity to achieve, it will make me achieve? Only I can make myself achieve and only I can believe in myself enough to get others too aswell.

Basically what I am saying is, people only believe in people who believe in themselves (try saying that with a mouth full of biscuits). I don't think there are many actors who walked into the audition for the part that made them famous, without believing that they could do it. Although the people on X-factor annoy me, every single one of them believe that they can win, otherwise they wouldn't be there. I think self-belief is sometimes percieved as arrogance, just look at Katie Weasel... sorry, I mean Waisell. People are publicly bashing her because she is not giving up on the oppurtunity that has and will change her life, and just because she has had small careers before being on X-factor doesn't that just show her ambition? Just because people aren't scared to reach for what they want, does that mean they think they are better than anyone else? No. It means they believe in themselves, and this should not be confused with arrogance.

Now there are people who are down right arrogant (including the year 10 boy) but I just get scared and run away from them, or make a joke about my ginger hair, which seems to be my defence mechanism nowadays.

Unfortunatly, I am still struggling with my personal statement, and when I finally get it done, I have strong feeling my application will be tossed aside therefore not getting me into University. But, oh well, it won't be the worst thing to write blogs for the rest of my life. To be found dead at 60, with a half drank bottle of wine, a strange hairline I seem to have these days, 'Murder She Wrote' on repeat, an unfinished blog, and a my face half eaten my 2 cats, Salt and Pepper. ( I really have thought about this too much)

On that note, I will leave you with some lyrics from the theme tune of a kids show, that I am embaressed to still know off by heart.

''It's a simple message and it comes from the heart.
Believe in yourself, well thats the place to start.''




I apoligise for the break in blogs, I've been swamped by coursework and not been feeling great. But luckily for you, you have 40 more years of my blogs about failed dates, and bad days you lucky, lucky people. Also I am really sorry for the particularily bad spelling and grammer, I accidentally deleted my word processor, and googling every word that you can't spell is time consuming.

Don't try and make your life like a movie. It causes injuries.

Last Friday morning I was on the treadmill at the gym, and as a compulsive gym goer (seriously, if I dont go for a week I get moody) I really go for it. I mean really go for it. And just because I run alot, it doesnt mean I look good when I run. Ive caught myself in the mirrors before, and I look like a cross between Pheobe from Friends and an angry, 20 stone, New Zealand rugby player. Lets just say I dont look graceful, or in any way attractive. So, as I was flailing my legs very quickly, in time to the music playing loudly in my ear, suddenly the song changed. Now my Ipod does this alot, due to my headphones having a button on, which I really dont no what it does. The song which came on was good, albeit slower, so I didnt really mind.
Then something remarkable happened that Friday morning. I fell in love with a boy who looked like an English version of Chace Crawford. I'm not even kidding. He was a babe. I was in love. Well and truly in love. My heart was beating even faster than it already was, and I felt myself getting all flushed.

You know in movies, where the gorgous man walks past, and a song comes on that always seems really appropriete? Well, I've always wished that would happen in real life. So that whatever mood you were in there would always be a song that would automatically come on, that would be great would'nt it?

Well it happened to me. Just as he was walking right in front of my treadmill I realised what song was playing in my ear. It was a song by The Cure called 'Friday, Im In Love'. It was amazing. And while pondering the irony of this I will tell you another thing. In movies when that gorgous man walks past and the song comes on, have you ever realised in goes in slow motion? This was also happening to me. He seemed to be walking in slow motion, and I seemed to be running in slow motion. Only when you've set the speed on the treadmill to 9kph, you cant really afford to slow down.

So there I was wondering how my life had become so much like a movie, whilst trying to look attractive, and trying not to look directly at him. So much so that I came back down to the ground with a bump. Unfortuantly in this case, not a metaphorical bump, an actual one.

I was so caught up in the fact my life was near perfect, that I forgot to carry on running.

So there I was in a heap on the floor, wondering why I now had Lady Gaga playing in my ear (I still have no idea how my headphones work) when I saw Chace Crawford above me, saying something to me. To which I replyed 'Fine, just fine. Im going to go stretch it out'. I still have no idea what he said to me, and I limped off, flushed bright red.

Theres more. In the rush to get away from the situation I had left my treadmill still running and my bottle of water in the holder. Now as I am looking back I really should of just left it and gone and dug myself a hole and crawled into it. But no, when I realised I immediatley turned round to go back, and I saw him turning the machine off and, picking up the bottle. When he realsied why I was again stood in front of him staring at the bottle, he handed it to me. And all I could do was a thumbs up. A THUMBS UP! Who do you think you are? Fonzie from Happy Days?

Embaressed isn't the word.

So with a bruised knee and a bruised ego, I limped back to my locker. Mumbling words like 'stupid girl' and 'bloody brilliant' to myself. And even after a week I still dare not go back to the gym. Can you imagine my 'I have no idea what your talking about' conversation?
At the moment, I find it alot easier to sit on my backside and get fat, than to face Chace.



Live. Laugh. Love.