It's Been a While

I apologise for my lack of commitment to my blog, my life has been cray cray at the moment. Despite all the partying and drinking, uni is actually quite difficult. Why didn’t anyone warn me? It’s not just the work, which is super hard and there’s so much. It’s living alone, in the short time I’ve been here I have melted the toaster and shrunk one of my favourite jumpers. My room is a tip because my mum isn’t around to tidy it up for me, my washing up pile gets bigger every day and I now suffer from insomnia. Ooh and of course… I’m poor as fuck.

  When people went on about students being poor I never fully acknowledged it, but you can’t just ask your mum for a tenner, she’s not there. I haven’t stooped as low as Morrison’s own brand vodka yet and I refuse to smoke rollies because… well both are rank, so I only have myself to blame for having no money. I bloody wished I saved some from working in the summer, but I was an idiot and spent hundreds of pounds on god knows what. Fml.

  So I tried to look for a job, notice the word ‘tried’, yeah and failed. I applied to all the ‘cool’ places… Nandos, River Island, Topshop…. I got rejected. Then I applied to places that were slightly less socially acceptable, Pizza Hut, TGI Fridays… I got rejected. So I gave up for a bit, I could have stooped lower and applied to McDonalds or Primark but I just couldn’t. (Sorry to anyone who works in those places, it’s not them, it’s me) But what the fuck, I got rejected from TGI Fridays. I felt monumentally shit after that, if they didn’t want me no one would. I started worrying about how I was going to afford to live, I was considering quitting smoking and drinking… hahahaha joke. But I was worrying, I started nicking toilet roll from the SU because I couldn’t afford it. Do not even get me started on how much toilet roll is! Luckily I finally got a job in M&S over Christmas, I don’t know where this job ranks as far as being ‘cool’ but I really couldn’t give a fuck anymore. Get me da moneyyyyy.

Mosh Pit Anyone?

This summer I managed to successfully tick off several items off my bucket list. For those who don’t know what a bucket list is: it’s a list I created after writing ‘Living Life to the Full’ and it includes everything I want to accomplish before I die. Many of the things on that list are undoubtedly common, for example sky diving, bungee jumping etc.  My main achievement this year was attending my first festival which I can honestly say was one of the best weekends of my life.

 So many people, including my entire family, laughed at me when I told them I was going to Reading festival. They told me I’d come home before the weekend was up…Well they can all do one because people seriously underestimate me. Yeah I know it’s only a festival but I made it through the entire weekend with minimal complaining, thank you very much. I mean, what’s not to love? You’re camping with all your friends, drinking all day and night and listening to great music. I even loved the mosh pits, now this time last year I didn’t even know what a mosh pit was and I’m ashamed now to admit that. At one point I was even making the mosh pits, I’m not talking about these pathetic little dancing circles at the back of the crowd. I mean the real shit, with punching, kicking and trampled people beneath your feet. They were awesome and why can’t I enjoy them? What because I wear fake hair and nails I can’t enjoy punching people to rock music? I would like to kindly request anyone that’s reading this to stop stereotyping me in to what they see and start realising that there’s a lot more than meets the eye with me. I like to listen to slipknot, I would much rather be chilling in my converse than dying in my high heels and I would rather slum it at reading festival than stay in my cosy bed. So you may think you know me, think that I’m a pretty simple person and you have me all figured out, well you couldn’t be more wrong. Because to be honest, I haven’t figured out who I want to be yet. I’ll let you know when I’ve decided.

Change

I’ve found it really hard to write a new entry on here. I’ve had a million and one ideas but with all these thoughts floating around in my head I can’t seem to write properly. There has, and is so much going on in my life, I haven’t had time to sit down and think about everything that’s happened.

Going to university means change and without sounding completely clique, change is scary. I, like many others have fear of the unknown and going to uni is literally like being thrown in at the deep end with blocks of concrete tided to your feet. I know there will be plenty of people to help me out, and eventually those blocks will be cut loose and I’ll be floating to the surface in no time but initially I’m going to be well in over my head. But change is also exciting and I look forward to being thrown in at the deep end because I’m excited to see who rescues me out.

Stop Procrastinating

It’s this time of year again; we’re slap bang in the middle of exam season. And instead of revising I choose to write mindless crap on my blog because… well it makes me happy and my next exam is English so…this counts as revision right? Mmm probably not, but I fancy a wee rant about exams. As I’m sure most of the people that read this are also going through the torturous exam process at the moment, so you can relate to my pain. Here are several points that I hate about exams:

1. Revision, ha that’s a joke why is it when you are revising, there are so many distractions just forcing you to procrastinate. A really good TV program just happens to come on and you feel obliged to watch it. Then while watching it you sit there feeling guilty for watching the TV and you don’t actually enjoy the program. Suddenly, bop-it that has been sitting on top of your wardrobe is staring at you, so you take it down and realise you are a bop-it pro and you spend a good half an hour re-living your child hood before you realise that your exam is tomorrow and you’ve wasted valuable time for being a total idiot.

2. Exams are during the summer! Not fair as there is a chance that the weather may actually be sunny for once and you have to stay inside to revise. Although luckily we live in England and to put it bluntly the weather is shit most of the time.

3. How unfair is it that you have, what like an hour, to demonstrate your amazingness in a subject in scary, stressful conditions that make you feel like you want to kill yourself. If you don’t perform in the small amount of time you’re given to impress you’re examiner that’s it, you’ve wasted a year. All I can think when going in to an exam is… “If you fail this Olivia, you’re not going to uni, you’re going to be a hobo if you fail this exam” talk about pressure. I don’t want to be a hobo.

4. Parents seem to think it’s great to put pressure on you because they’re ‘only helping’. You’re not helping by asking me every 5 minutes about my work, how much I’ve done, if I’m stressed. If you left me alone and let me get on with my revision then maybe I wouldn’t be so stressed! And they make you feel guilty for going out for half an hour to see a friend. I need my gals mum, leave it out.

5. Most people have proms and holidays planned for the end of exam celebration but for these there is a certain amount of preparation one has to do. I go on sunbeds, go the gym, go on jogs, swim and get various parts of my anatomy waxed and pruned. All this costs money and takes time. 2 things I have very little of during the exam period! Because if I want money I need a job, if I have a job then I feel guilty for working and not revising but if I have no money then, well, life is miserable! Also dieting is not something you want to be doing when you’re stressed up to the eyeballs, but even the thought of people seeing me in a bikini makes me feel sick, so slim fast is my new best friend but is probably not the most healthy thing to be doing when mentally unstable.

6. Finally after the exams and celebrations are over you have to wait for months for the dreaded results day. These months you’re floating around in limbo, your future is helplessly out of your hands, all you can do is get drunk to pass the time and numb the nerves that if you fail you will not be going to the uni you really want to go to.

So reading this I have wasted your valuable revision time and freaked you out about failing. Well get back to revising, no one wants to fail and be a hobo! Good luck and stop stressing, what happens, happens and think of all the alcohol just waiting to be consumed after your last exam. Although maybe this is just practice for all the alcohol you’re going to be drinking once you’re homeless failure.

Money Can Buy You Happiness

No shocker that I’m a materialistic person, I love shoes, clothes, handbags, cars and everything else expensive. But who doesn’t? Retail therapy always cheers my up, the smell of new clothes, the excitement when you rip the label off a new item of clothing and it’s officially yours. (I think I may have a shopping addiction) I love all of that, so I would be happy...No ecstatic if I won the lottery and had loads of money. I buy a euro millions ticket pretty much every week, sometimes two. This week I bought 5 because it was £120 million! Can you imagine? I would be in heaven. Every door in the world would be open to you with all that money, you can literally do anything you want, buy anything you want, go anywhere you want to go. How can that not make someone happy?

I understand that money can’t buy love or health. And if I’m honest I would chose love over money anyday because love is the only thing that makes me happier. But loads of money would just make life so much easier wouldn’t it?

Living Life to the Full

Is it me or is my life wizzing past me without me actually acknowledging it? It’s like I’ve blinked and I’m now old and making life changing decisions about my future. I’m not old and wise and I’m certainly not mature enough. How am I meant to decide what I want for myself? I mean, I think I know what I want, but when I look back at some of the stupid decisions I’ve made I’m not too sure that I trust myself with my life in my hands. Someone else choose my future path please. Then at least I’ll have someone to blame when it all goes to shit.

I just wish that life would slow down so I could enjoy it a bit more. This time last year I was looking at universities, I didn’t have a clue where or what I wanted to do and today I’ve just booked my accommodation at Nottingham Trent. This time in a year I’ll be finishing my first year at uni, what about in 10 years or 20 years. I’ll blink once again and I’ll be old and grey sitting in my granny chair, wearing shoes because they’re comfortable and not because they look good , with a wedding ring imbedded in my ring finger from decades of marriage and grandkids running round my feet. Wooooah no thanks, for now I’m going to enjoy every second of my youth, I’m going to write a list of everything I want to do before I die because I want to look back and think ‘yeah I lived every second of my life!’ at the moment I spend far too much time sitting in my onesie eating chocolate and watching friends episodes that I’ve seen 100 million times. Although undoubtedly this will continue it will not be a common occurrence anymore. It’s time to start living.

No Justification

I’m still a bit shocked after reading this month’s Cosmo. There was an article about a women being raped, sorry for the brutality but the rapist blamed the women for not being suitably dressed. His defence was she was drunk and wearing a short skirt and a low cut top, therefore she was asking for it…

Is this some kind of sick joke? As most people know I’m no stranger to skimpy outfits but how does that mean I can be taken advantage of. I’ve had men squeeze my arse before in a club and what the hell gives them the right just to waltz up to someone and touch them. I wear skimpy shit because I’m young, I’m not going to wear a knee length skirt and a turtle neck to a club,are you mad?  And as for being drunk, you only live once. I can get as drunk as I want, it’s a free country. Men get drunk all the time but they aren’t subject to sexual harassment. The fact of the matter is that equality is bollocks. Men and women will always be treated differently,whether that's at work or on a night out. And I personally don’t agree with this crap. I’m not saying all men are like this but if you’re going to grope me like a pathetic, disgusting animal then be ready to receive a punch in the face.

You Never Know...

I’m currently learning about paranormal happenings in psychology at the moment, that’s ghosts and telling the future and other crap that I’m not sure I believe in. Aliens maybe, but someone having the ability to communicate with the dead or telling me what’s going to happen in my future mmm… I’m sceptical. But if someone did have the ability to tell me when I was going to meet the man of my dreams would I want to know? I’m not entirely sure. I’m a strong believer in what happens happens and you create your own fate blah blah. So when I do happen to bump in to my 6ft 4inch Abercrombie model millionaire future husband I want to be taken by surprise. It could be when I’m in Tesco, at uni or apparently 80% of people meet their future spouse before they’re 18. So I could have already met my prince, mmm yeah doubt that. But I suppose you never know, and that’s the part I love the most. You will never know what’s going to happen and I like it that way.

Plastic Fantastic?

I love myself a bit of fakery. The extensions, the tan, the lashes, the nails.... I indulge in them all and I bloody love em. I'm not a Barbie anymore; I exchanged my blonde locks a few months ago now and am now a chocolate brown lover.

Someone asked me a few weeks ago why I bother with all the fake shit. It’s expensive to say the least: £30 on a bottle of tan, £60 hair treatments etc. I can't really afford it all to be honest but it’s an addiction. I couldn't imagine going out on a night out without a layer of fake tan hiding my true colour or my hair extensions making everything look thicker and longer. I suppose I'm just another prat who is subject to falling head over heels in love with the stick thin celebs in the glossy magazines that I choose to read weekly. They're just so bloody perfect it makes me sick, it makes me want to spend 2 hours getting ready just so I can look even half as good as they do. I'm not a size 6, far from it. So maybe subconsciously I feel that I need to compensate my lack lustre figure with the hair and the tan, maybe...

Or maybe when I look all fake I'm not actually myself, I'm an alter ego and when people say bad things to me when I'm all dressed up it doesn't matter because it’s not actually me, just me in a mask. Does that make sense....? Hopefully.