it's not important. but this stuff matters

i’d order a coffee anyday

forgive me if at any point I sound big headed or patronising, that is the complete opposite of the intention behind writing this particular post. It’s quite deep too, so if you aren’t in the mood – don’t read on!

Life is rarely kind to any of us, but at the age of 19 I have already accepted that despite having a fairly tough childhood it forced me to develop skills in which I hold a small amount of pride. Due to my siblings having autism, it became essential that my parents and I could understand their form of communication with ease – to avoid any conflict or issues that may develop. It also meant that we had to be very clear in what we were communicating and that we never left anything to chance, or assumption.
now, you may argue that everyone possesses these skills (and you are most probably correct), but in some they are far more developed than others. Imagine an individual with no concept of another’s conscious thought. try living in a bubble where you only understand your own thoughts and fail to recognise that every other human being around you is capable of independent thought processes. the flipside of this being – to communicate with such a person, you have to translate everything into their way of thinking as they won’t understand your own. Throughout my childhood I had to subconsciously interpret the world around me, see what my brother and sister wouldn’t be able to grasp and present it them in a manner in which they could. So. I had to first be able to see the world through someone elses eyes, I had to identify their different way of thinking and also be able to communicate in a manner that was person specific. I’m not saying I’m better at it than everyone else, I’m just pointing out that I have a lot of practice and that it is second nature – I haven’t been to any workshops or classes, this was learning by doing where the consequences of getting it wrong don’t bear thinking about.

Now, my brother and sister are extremes. But you can learn a lot from extremes. I think the crucial part of being able to communicate with someone is to listen to how they talk and try to see the thought processes that precede the words that leave their mouth. Because every person has their own interpretation of the meaning behind words. Essentially we’re all speaking a different language and have to be understanding with respect to the fact that some may be more fluent than others. to listen. the most important part of any conversation is to absorb the point that the other person is trying to get across. That doesn’t always mean that you should take what they say at face value.

Just think more before you speak. I can’t think this thought process through cause I’m tired. But all I’m trying to say is I do listen to everyone. I get what you’re all trying to say. so chill those beans and try and listen to me cause i am well interesting. mmmhmmm


oh my days

Previously I had deleted this post believing it to be inappropriate. However. It is very appropriate. How have you not noticed the weather?

Jan 27th 2013. Living in Newcastle has one downside – it’s too damn cold.

Today it snowed. It also snowed on Monday and in the interim dropped to MINUS SEVEN. Oh I’m sorry, did you fail to comprehend that level of cold? Go stick your face in the freezer.

Currently, as always I am procrastinating. There’s an exam on Tuesday which will have my name on it and quite frankly I don’t give a damn. Instead, I’m watching ‘The Food Inspectors’ (a BBC shindig) and have decided that I would like to win the lottery.

20.43. TIMESTAMP. If I timestamp my posts from now on you will be able to see how slowly I work my way through anything. I like to meander through the wonders of my mind. Hang on, just need to reorganise my pen collection. BRB!

21.03. Just went for a cuppa. Found my flatmate happily nattering to himself in the living room after consuming 1 and a half bottles of wine.

21.23. Just noticed this is happening every twenty minutes. wow.

Let’s make a deal okay? If any of you win the lottery, you’ll share a good half with me and I’ll be your best friend forever.

sods a law.

i blame sod all the time. in fact, there can’t have been a bad situation where the guy hasn’t featured –  or at least someone will utter those words, and then all of sudden all the pressure is lifted. ‘hey it wasn’t our fault! it was going to happen anyway! lets make the best of a bad situation’. i hate to break it to you, but thats just bull. shit.

murphy’s law – known to many as sods law, is the belief or perhaps the rule that ‘if anything can go wrong, it will’.

of course, this law is not entirely Murphy’s own, he merely put a name to the common assumption to prepare for the worst and hope for the best, and that the worst always happens to those who least need it (poor sod, thats where he comes in).

many turns of phrase we use are often an adaptation on this central law –

‘If it seems too good to be true, it probably is’

‘If you’re running late the bus will be too’, ‘Things get worse under pressure’

‘You will always find something in the last place you look’ (this one always annoys me, cause who continues looking when they’ve found it?)

‘The other line always moves faster’

and so on. just think of something bad, and exaggerate, it’s all in the exaggeration.

BUT. i think murphy’s law highlights that quite often in complicated situations there are very few outcomes that are desired, and the rest (a far greater majority) have undesirable consequences. so its not down to a rule, or a law, its just a case of probabilty.

next time something good happens, i bet you won’t be thanking murphy for getting it wrong, you’ll be congratulating yourself. but if it goes tits up – damn that sod. typical.


technically laws can’t be created by one individual and declared as fact, especially one such as this which is mere speculation on the order of things.

secondly, there’s no proof it was coined by a chap called murphy, as many different names are often associated with the phrase, or something very similar.

if you fancy reading more on this delightful topic i actually managed to find websites (its so sad they actually exist):’s_law

fact of the day (or week ;) )


you know things are getting serious…

…when you’ve got the big mug out for your tea

Yes, it has come down to this. The normal sized cup has been replaced by the one that has the capacity of a small swimming pool, and I’m still uncertain as to whether that will be enough.

Today was allocated as a day of rest, recuperation and getting ahead of myself. I’m always doing that – putting time aside for doing nothing.

Habitually, I’m a procrastinator. As all of you who follow this career path with know, to procrastinate well, you must start early. The night before, early. In a sense what I’m talking about is avoiding making any specific plans, nor setting an alarm.

The problem with being so good at avoiding getting things done arises when you genuinely have a lot to do. This year is going to be exceptionally busy for myself and I’m quite nervous that I may have to give up my ‘skill’.

So, back to today. I woke up late and dressed slowly (the speed being crucial). My to do list is growing increasingly long, and there has been little progress to knock it back. Even in writing this post I am avoiding my essay, the one that has remained in draft format for far longer than necessary.

The funny thing is, I’ve even avoided getting this done.

My resolution – to finish what I have started.


Childish Gambino

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Crushing on what?

Did anyone say Donald Glover?

donald glover

Listen to his music. Watch community.


Okay, I’ll admit I have one guilty pleasure in life. That would be Monk. Nope. It’s not a religious thing, it’s the exasperatingly lovable detective; Adrian [Monk].

look at that face

look at that face

He has all forms of OCD, and some he made up. But, by being so meticulously perfect, Mr Adrian has an unbeatable ability to solve crime – and gets in some beautifully awkward situations through doing so.

Since a young age I have had a deep seated appreciation for the chap. He’s fictional, he’s scripted, but he is without a doubt an absolute babe. Love him.

Guys, you’ll thank me later. (and you’ll get that later).

But seriously. Watch monk, give him a go. It’s the only police detective show that doesn’t scare the crap out of me on a regular basis. It’s also the only thing I can watch back to back without my undeniably short attention span getting the better of me.

Sometimes, yes, it’s a tad gruesome (series 8 episode 9 anyone?) or a little unbelievable (he’s goes up against aliens), but that’s exactly why we love it.

For you imdb slaves we hit a almost impressive 7.8. good job team.


Pulp Fiction

7 / 10 sophie faces. :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

I had been readily assured that this film was an unmissable classic. As in, it was almost shameful to continue my blissful existence without watching the hour and a half (ish) long piece of ‘fiction’. The amount of abuse I got for having not undertaken the film outweighed the effort required to actually get hold of a copy – so I had to.


Settling down with the boyf I had high expectations for this piece of filmatic gold, and I didnt actually want to like it. There’s nothing like being forced to do something that really adds to the enjoyment no? The opening scene (as I’m sure you all know and you have all watched it ;) ), was intriguing and really set the tone for the whole experience – something I like, given my non-existant attention span. Watching pulp fiction took me on some kind of journey. I feel I was moved through emotions as a shall child cuts through a ball pool. I’ll admit, I sat there for a lot of it (this was my first Tarantino film) thinking ‘what on earth is actually going on?’ Why not just tell a story from start to finish without cutting it up and moving it around. Well apparently. It’s for effect. This I learned.

Despite missing large chunks of it due to a wandering attention, it was such a good film. There is one problem though, to my man’s despair, I keep getting Morgan Freeman and Samuel L Jackson muddled up. And that’s not even racist. I just am rubbish with people and faces (it’s like he’s a toad), and quite often run over to people in the street cause I think they’re someone they’re not.

To conclude, watch this. Banksy got it. So should you.

Since then, I’ve watched all his films.

my experience of work

Today. I did something exciting. I got to work with the wonderful ladies at nd make-up and get one step closer to whatever I will be doing with my life!

nd make-up's website

nd make-up’s website

Arriving at their studio I was greeted by Marie, who introduced me to their in-house journalist/editor Charlotte (blog is sensational – Her role ‘sounded’ simple, but as we were to discover, the problems surrounding having at least 3847592873 email accounts and the same number of passwords slowed progress indefinitely, and my job of ensuring the online store was up to date took to best part of two hours (not that I can complain – I’m a stickler for the fine details).

Anh Mao, the genius behind Mao Couture, arrived not long into the day to discuss a photo-shoot to which will be occurring within the next few months . Have you seen her dresses? They are AMAZING. If you haven’t, I strongly recommend forwarding pictures of them to all potential husbands/wives/parents, to die for. Her creative instinct is so natural and she knew exactly what she wanted from the shoot – a woman with drive is a woman with results.

I’ll also be lending a cheeky hand during Newcastle’s very own fashion week – stay tuned for that peeps :)


afternoon delights

Just a quickie (tee hee)

The weather is glorious. Get outside and sun yourself people- those vitamin d stores won’t replenish themselves!!!

Not a great picture at all. But look at the jeans :) (top shop – last last season. Unlucky! ) x

20120327-042459 PM.jpg

… crotch shot


We had our first proper day of sun yesterday – was incredible, I took myself for a walk around the park and almost had to take my coat off.

did you do anything exciting with your day?


the below post describes my now boyfriend and was written during my first-first year at university. I quite enjoyed it. 

flat mate ‘kitchenfloor’ (he doesn’t have a room in this flat, but seems to feel entitled to both fridge and cupboard space….)

playingitstraight, is, basically well, playing it straight. regardless of sexuality he is most definitely the campest person I have ever met in my entire life. Despite being heterosexual (… well I know that now!) it took a good four months for us all to realise this. His shower routine is at least twice as long as mine and with that many Lush products we could open our own shop.

playingitstraight will have anyone think hes straight, as long as he’s allowed to stare at passers by of the male variety. Intriguing. he also attends yoga – where it is claimed he ‘grabs tit’ (a phrase orginally used by yours truly AND I DONT EVEN FANCY GIRLS) and follows the session with a delicious hot chocolate mixed with some fine malibu… exceedingly masculine.

In an attempt to fool us further, Playingitstraight copies those who play a fatherly role in his life – current favourite is bilingualchap who is being matched outfit for outfit. how cute.

1) ‘i’m just so comfortable in my sexuality i’ll let them think i’m gay!’

2) ‘i’m not gay’

3) ‘i’m actually not gay, its just everyone else ever seems to think i am’

4) ‘look, i may walk and dress gay but that doesn’t make me gay.’

5) ‘i’m straight’ (pauses for laughter), ‘no really – I am!’

6) ‘i don’t have to prove i’m straight, i quite clearly am’

7) ‘that’s the third time this week a man has come onto me in the toilets’

8) ‘do i look gay?’

9) ‘malibu and coke isn’t a womans drink, is it?’

10) ‘its not gay to have a skincare routine.’

11) ‘i think i’ll just get a boyfriend to make you all happy’

12) ‘i accidentally went to a gay bar the other day. was amazing. can we go for my birthday?!’

just to reiterate. he’s not.


[I just want to point out that any views in this post are not expressing any form of homophobia. I love all people all the time]

bloody northerner

flat mate room 6. lovely girl, when we can understand her accent. She’s become quite nerdy this year, taking to residing in the library and carrying a textbook instead of a handbag. and quite frankly not much of the below is that true, this girl is nice and quiet.

in three sentences. she’s from up north. shes loud. and she’s actually shorter than me.

i will never forget how, in freshers week, it became apparent that as bloodynorther drinks, her vocal volume increases proportionately to amount consumed. no, thats a lie, one sip of the stuff and shes screaming her damn head off. but you know what, of anyone, it is her i would happily sit and listen to, because bloodynortherners social skills are extremely well developed for someone of the northern capacity (and isn’t that lucky or i would have killed her by now).

she used to work in a pet shop (a commendable profession) and don’t we know it. at every opportunity she will bring up gold fish, or pond maintainence or anything even vaguely related to the pet shop world. ‘you see that woman there? she reminds me of this rabbit we once sold. speaking of rabbits, did you know ….’ and so on. delightful. i’ll be buying her fish food for christmas next year. the excitement.

bloodynortherner doesn’t actually do a degree. sometimes she’ll turn up to some social engagements with a ‘topic’ revolving around economics. and if you’re lucky, she’ll bring the work home. i once, now i mean once, saw her doing maths at the table. but then again it may have just been a sudoku. we shall never know.  surprisingly, given the geographical location of our university, bloodynortherner is the sole represntative of the north in our flat (though, sogaysostraight will adamantly state he was born nearby. yeah. whatever), so sometimes its hard to tell if her behaviour is out of the ordinary for her lot. the ‘minority’.

for someone as wonderful as herself, its such as shame she too has a speech impediment. not in any way similar to bilingual chaps, she struggles with whole words, not just a set of letters. must  be something in the water. i’ve been religiously drinking bottled to avoid gaining a similar affliction. i don’t think i’ve ever met anyone as forgetful as bloodynortherner – she’s always misplacing her blackberry. thank god investmentbanker is there to find it for her. she’s be lost without him.

she’s also furiously immature. any slight reference to anything vaguely cheeky and she’ll be laughing for all of 38 seconds. hilair. its just one continual struggle to have a proper conversation over a cup of tea. except, she drinks warm ribena instead, and by the bucket, so i don’t know what we were expecting.

my god this is one of the most scathing posts i think ever. i actually love bloodynortherner and i’m quite glad shes one of my flat mates (now housemate). i think i just got carried away… 

ps. we’ve converted her onto the hot drink of the tea variety. she done good.

I’m too tired to party

I’m sitting here with a cup of tea and half an apple deciding whether or not I really want to get dressed into real clothes. Today, my dad, sister and I will be travelling the 2-hundred-and-eighty-something miles to Newcastle. no  biggie. My packing involves opening the car boot and throwing things, anything that gets in gets to go back up north, see?

The state of our house is a bit nerve wracking. We’ve received vague messages from the housemate who’s already there (the doors have been stolen, lightbulbs are missing/blown, pipes are or are not frozen) which are all slightly concerning but presented in an effortlessly calm manner. Beautiful.

Sorry guys, I just had to leave you there for about twenty minutes – come dine with me was on. I don’t actually think my brain has woken up as I’m starting to really enjoy my pink trackie-yellow t-shirt combo.




I met this particular flatmate the first day I moved into halls. He’d knocked on my door, and I, still fresh from saying bye to my dad had burst into tired tears at the prospect of unpacking all my belongings. ‘Lets get drunk’. Those three words probably saved my life.

Flatmate room 2.

Despite English being his first language, this 21 year old from Singapore definitely doesn’t use it well. The first question on most peoples lips being ‘you speak English almost fluently! how did you learn it?’, his response, normally accompanied with a scathing look –  ‘same way as you’, (in case you don’t get it, re-read the first sentence)

First impressions are often skewed, most people make the assumption hes gay or meterosexual, however, we recently discovered neither is the case he is definitely into women. Literally. (our walls aren’t actually as thick as previously thought – and that’s from sitting in the living room). His hair and make up are always immaculate, and with a dress sense like his you’re guaranteed to continue the string of women. Except the day he wore a teddy bear t shirt. I don’t think he pulled that day.

Our flat is a self catered one, with a fully equipped kitchen, but this guy has taken the fed option of dining in the canteen every weekday. We quickly discovered this is due to his inability to actually cook and lack of desire to learn. To date, internationalstandard has currently eaten well over 35 packets of instant noodles at the weekends, with a further 50 in a box under his bed.

His female escapades have recently taken a turn for perhaps the better, a cheeky fling with a girl from across the field (how romantic) has turned more serious and he is set to be charming her further in Paris over Christmas. I asked if I could come along, and was politely turned down, along with the words ‘she’s not ready for a threesome’ – the things we do for a holiday.

He’s a nice guy, and has a strange sense of humour, we just laugh along and hope what was said was the punch line .

His course is a tough one, and he struggles to keep up with the demands – sure is lucky that a third year gave him the answers for all the work and they don’t check for plagiarism! All in all, i love the guy and am absolutely devastated he turned down the offer to live with us next year!

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the investment *anker

I still currently live with this flatmate – but I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for writing this post almost a year ago. I’m not sure he ever will…

Year 1. Flatmate room 1.

The investment banker aspires to have his own chat show, much like that of his idol – Jeremy Kyle. He’s recently discovered the world of day time television and spends his free time scrolling through the channels picking out quality, yet potentially iq lowering, programmes.

His appearance is tidy but limited. He’s often seen walking about in dark jeans and an assortment of brightly logoed t-shirts, but for a night out the investment banker likes to up the anti, and whips out a casual shirt and cardigan, along with his heavily coveted loafers.
Nights out with the guy are definitely something to remember and he will always ensure everyone is plastered, even if the funds have to come from his own pocket. The investment bankers drinking ability far outstrips others with his bmi, probably due to the sheer quantity of food he manages to put away (literally four times that of the average person).

His character is slightly unusual, a dash of a properly thoughtful person sometimes shines through the outward behaviour of a dick. Only sometimes though! Investment bankers have to live up to their own names!

let’s not be too hard on the guy, he’s exceptionally clever. With a degree which is practically spoken in numbers, the investment banker is rarely seen getting a mark below 95%. Arrogance, is not far from the investment banker, who should be wary that his smug comments don’t go too far.

All in all, the investment banker is a genuinely nice guy, but should be careful his witty banter doesn’t go too far!


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i slept in the bath

bit of back story. i had the house to myself this weekend, my dad had gone away with work. Now, i’m not normally irrational but if my imagination gets going I can get a bit hysterical. I love this story. I still do it.

Take yesterday for instance. With the house to myself I took the usual precautions of lights on and curtains shut exceptionally early, but for about three hours I kind of may have left the back door open. Now before any of you get any ideas, this has only ever happened once in my life and will never happen again. especially after last night. So, at about 11 i went to a friends house. By then I had shut the back door and was happily certain that I had secured the building.

For three hours we played computer games (I was stuck with boys) and drank posh cider (how suave) before heading out to the park, being all of twelve years old. Once in said play area, we listened to Billy Joel at an acceptable sound level and they smoked all of the two cigarettes brought for the trip. ANYWAY. after this I went home (they walked me back don’t worry), and it was at this point my over active imagination kicked off.

My normally comforting house became suddenly terrifying and i was certain that within those three hours before leaving, someone (or many someones) had entered my place of residence through the back door and were hiding, waiting to kill me. Just read that again. RIDIC.

for about ten minutes my common sense tried to win over the panicked other half, but to no avail. accepting my imminent death i sprinted to my room, grabbed duvet and pillows to do what any other self respecting individual would do – sleep in the bath. (the logic here being a locked wooden door would be the perfect defense against a crazed mad man).

I now feel a bit silly. :) xx

bilingual chap

Despite what people say, he’s not growing out of the uniqueness. I like that. I still live with him, and not much has changed since I last wrote this. Just that his room is above mine – so I hear the banging above. haha

Where to begin. No seriously you don’t realise the difficulty I’m having in describing this guy on paper (okay on my computer you pedantic fool). I met him on the first day and couldn’t quite believe what I was going to have to live with. I mean I still don’t even know what ethnicity he is (not being racist, its a difficult topic, you’d have to see him to believe it). Basically part Thai, French and Japanese (avoiding the stereotypes) he manages to slot nicely into the Chinese crowd …. anyway. Bilingualchap is surprisingly the medic of the flat. Its strange though that no one believes me when I introduce him. That may be though, because he has an unusual speech impediment. In the sense that its too good to be true. Bilingualchap literally can not speak. He has a lovely voice, don’t get me wrong, but words are just not his forte. ‘sh’ becomes ‘th’, f’s are v’s, whatever it should be – it isn’t. Speak to him, you’ll understand (or actually, you won’t).

It’s not a case of him being stupid, In fact I personally believe he’s half genius, but just think Bilingualchap has his own take on life. You know, the sort that makes you a little scared. okay. I’m half terrified when he walks into the room.

I realise this isn’t actually getting the point across. I’ll try and list some normal behaviour.

1) this is quite recent – during revision week. it was about half six in the evening, and I could hear banging. Turns out I wasn’t the only one, and four of us ended up in the corridor trying to locate the sound source. A couple of minutes of searching confirmed (as we had immediately suspected) these strange noises were in fact coming from room 3. scared to knock, we waited outside and hoped it would stop. Unfortunately, the banging became joined by him cursing and built up to a very loud thud (the sound a body makes hitting the floor). We waited a few minutes, and by this point we had prepared for the worst and 999 was on all our phone dial screens however seconds later his door was thrown open, and in the doorway stood a very distressed chinese man.

‘hi l—- (bilingualchap does have a real name)’
‘why are you outside my room’ (we think, no one quite knows if he’s speaking english)
‘no, you first – what are you doing?
‘revising obviously.’ and his door was shut. just like that. later we discovered he had taken to reading and running round his room at the same time, but kept on hitting his walls. and floor.

2) I just realised, a lot of my stories will start with strange noises coming from his room (think what you will of that, we all have). on this particular day, it wasn’t banging i could hear, just him laughing far too regularly. again, within seconds we were standing outside his room, expecting anything. This time sogaysostraight lead the way and barged in (thank god he wasn’t doing anything weird), before walking out laughing and shaking his head. believing it to be safe to go in, the rest of us followed and couldn’t quite comprehend what we were seeing. bilingual chap was happily grating a block of frozen cheese at his desk, whilst watching four programmes simultaneously (explaining the laughter) and also reading a medical dictionary…. duh.

3) bilingual chap likes to drink. no. that’s an understatement. he loves to drink. spill a drop and he will have probably licked it off the counter before you have time to find a cloth (okay, that is an exaggeration but with him, it also could be true). on an unimportant friday, bilingual chap was going for a night out dressed as the doctor from ‘doctor who’. his outfit looked incredible and was completed by sonic screwdriver and fez. in fact, i asked for his autograph. he left at 8, and at exactly 8.47 we heard our front door being thrown open. couldnt quite believe our eyes when the doctor flew past the kitchen door and fell out the fire escape, landing spread-eagled on the floor. being the good person he is, investmentbanker went to help. Being the good people we are, we locked him out as well. ten minutes later, they were both in the hallway, one supporting the other (guess who). i have never seen a more comical sight than the doctor trying to open his door with a plastic sonic screwdriver. apparently they just don’t work well on wooden doors. i can vouch for that.

Really it would be so easy to continue with these stories. i could easily write a book. a BESTSELLER. bilingualchap is the guy everyone wishes they were, but at the same time can’t quite believe he is still alive. i think of all my flatmates, he’s the one i want to meet in ten years, just to check he hasn’t gone mad and is claiming to be a donkey. not that there’s anything wrong with a donkey.