Hello Happy

I was so sad, then.

Going back, it felt like I was in a movie set of a film I have seen over and over again. I know it so well. A bittersweet tale that pulls at my heartstrings in a way that makes me want to keep watching. There's a character that I identify with so well, but she's not quite me. I wander around the set, drinking in all these sights as if I've lived them, as if I've walked these streets so many times that I can visualise being here, I can feel her emotions pulsing through me, fighting with my own. I wonder, is it normal to experience it like this? The rest of the cast aren't around now, but I can see them in my mind. I remember all the scenes and the lines, the funny bits, the heartwarming moments, but also the gut-wrenching despair. I turn a corner and each location renews a sense of detached familiarity. The main character is ghost-like, I sense her presence everywhere. I can't go into her room, but I feel the melancholy overwhelm me just from being outside, looking in. Somehow, the surroundings are just as imagined, the props are spot on, but I still can't quite grasp the reality of being in the same space she once shared. I go to where she had daily lectures, where she ate lunch, walk the staircase she dreaded every morning. I am there, I am her, I am me. I can't cope with the confluence of the two personalities. How can I be both her then, and myself now? I need time to process this, to conceptualise. And I do, later that night while my heart is bursting, full of lost moments, I articulate the feeling that has been hanging over me for most of the day.

I was so sad. I was so sad. I was so sad.

It is difficult to admit, and I'm not sure I even realised fully at the time, but it is freeing to recognise. I was so sad. But now, I am happy. The girl I left there was full of worry and hopelessness and some days, all she had to hang on to was that one day, perhaps in ten, eight, nine, seven years from now, it will be okay. This too shall pass. And that, it did.

Which brings us to today, things are more than okay. It is hard to express how happy I am that things worked out for her. That she doesn't have to be there any more, that she doesn't have to feel like that every day, any more. It may now seem like a movie set but it was real life, once upon a time. I want to hug her so tight and tell her it will be alright but just as you can't do that to characters in a story, you can't connect to your past self. So I guess I have to satisfy my self of the moment with the reminder that everything is okay now.

I am happy, now.

Flitterbox: Razorlight ~ Stumble and Fall 

Home/Work

Today, I have no homework. 

My work screen and self switches off at the end of my contracted hours. I do not think about work outside of work. Not in a way in which I have to force myself to leave it at the desk, but in the sense that my work is very literally a strict shift, 5 days a week. I don't do overtime; I don't do study; I don't spend time 'on the road'. In that way, it is wonderful.

Of course there are drawbacks. Non-stimulating work can be dull, you don't feel like you're really making a difference. When there's no progression in the role, it opens up the suggestion that you should search for an alternative vocation. It can, over a longer period of time, be unfulfilling. 

But, no homework. My peers cry, they stress, they don't eat, or go out, or socialise with their friends and much of the time, they don't even enjoy their jobs. They wake up at 6am; they travel in an hour of traffic; they don't get home 'til gone 7pm and then it's dinner, TV, bed - and for what? More money? Better job satisfaction? Pride in yourself and your abilities? One friend was complaining to me about not getting *quite* as high a pay-rise as she was expecting from her last set of exams. Understandable that you want to feel like your salary is competitive within your industry, but ultimately - what difference does it make, is money the main reason you're staying in that job? I honestly can't comprehend the idea that more money is worth the amount of stress some people put themselves under, when you already have enough to live a life others would be envious of - it's crazy. Maybe I'm just lazy. 

It's back-to-school and this is the year I have felt furthest removed from it all. Younger relatives have become graduates, friends have become doctors and aside from slight lust for an owl pencil-case in WHSmith, I have barely felt the back-to-books fever that usually surrounds the start of the academic year. It's kind of weird that I don't have that marker anymore.

So sometimes, when I'm contemplating where my job, my career, my salary is, five years after I started my masters, I look back. I stand back, I think of all those questions, those essays, those tests that I don't have to do any more and I think how glorious it is to not have to go back to school this September.

Instead, I'm going to Amsterdam.

Flitterbox: George Ezra ~ Budapest

Flitterbook: We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves ~ Karen Joy Fowler

London Calling

Today, I have been to a friend's leaving drinks.

I took the plunge and took the train, after work, to a city I don't live in, to have drinks with a couple of people I know and a bunch of others I've not met before. London feels like a lonely place to live in. So many people, but none of them dare catch your eye. I am used to saying hi to people as we cross by; they don't do that in London. I don't think I would want to live there.

My friend is off to work in a city in Europe. I hope that will mean another weekend away, with free accommodation included! It is a bit sad to have so many friends spread all over the world, but it is quite fun to get take trips to visit them.

Flitterbox: Crystal Fighters ~ I Love London

Soul City

Today, I have travelled. 

As I pass by here, I can't help it, an involuntary grin spreads from ear to ear. These towers are a monstrous insult to architecture, billowing hot steam into the atmosphere and symbolising everything that is wrong with our use of energy resources today, I'm sure. But to me, I see them coming into view and it feels like coming home.

It's not quite home. The city is not the one in which I grew up, but it is the one in which I became a grown-up. I have made the journey so often over the last four years that it feels odd that I'm unlikely to ever live there again. It was weird, being a guest in a place I know better than most others, by pure virture of the fact that I've had to find my own feet, make my own way. One night, that's all I had. One night.

It was fun night. Town was the quietest I've ever seen it, unsurprising, given that it was mid-week in non-term time: no Slacking Students about and Grown-Up People have jobs, you know. I'm somewhere in between the two of those, I suppose. After the party, pizza, poetry and live folk music, a few of us tried a few bars before deciding that nowhere will be raving at this time of night on this day of the week, so we might as well just go for the cheap cocktails and make the most of it. It was a fun night. 

In the morning, I sat waiting in the station and for the first time, I wasn't going to visit home for just the weekend, for the first time, this was the end of my short break from the norm, rather than the start of it. As I realised that, an involuntary tear fell from cheek to chin. This city feels like a special kind of second home, a place to which to escape, with people to visit and precious memories encased in each street, shop, bar and cinema. I'm glad that I hold that in my heart, but I'm sad to have to leave it all, again. 

I'll be back; there's no doubt about that. 

On the jukebox: Kimya Dawson ~ Tyre Swing

Fiff Birfdee

Tomorrow, I will graduate.

Where will you be in five years' time? Five years ago, I was going all over the country, attending open days for university, looking at what I would study, to where I should apply. Five years ago, I was halfway through A levels:  chemistry, maths, physics. I suppose my course was already decided by those choices. 

Five years ago, on this day, I started a blog. I'm not quite sure why, really. I suppose I was feeling alone and unloved and looked to the internet to solve that. Did I think that five years later I'd still be here? I don't think I thought that far ahead, to be honest. I still can't. There's people with Careers and Goals and Five Year Plans and I'm stuck with a big fat I Don't Know on my forehead. Some may say it's a waste of four years of a science degree to not go into the field afterwards, or at least have some sort of graduate scheme or further qualification in mind. But, as everyone is aware, university is so much more than the academic side so if that's all you take from it, well you're not doing it right. 

Never mind. Tomorrow, I graduate and officially become a Mistress of Chemistry. It sounds so much better than a Spinster of Science, don't you think? It's a wonder they don't use gender-specific degree titles...

Happy 5th Birthday, Flix

On the jukebox: Laura Marling ~ Alas, I Cannot Swim - work more, earn more, live more, have more fun.

Chapter 2:1

Today, I have been a graduand.

I have the dress. I need the shoes. I have the haircut booked and the gown ordered.

This year has been tough, but also, terrific. The points at which I’ve felt most attractive have frequently combined with the points at which the academic side has suffered the most. I’ve no doubt that those two aspects are somewhat related, but I’m also confident that correlation does not directly imply causation and that many other factors contributed to the scholarly mess and social success that was my final year of university.

Never mind. Next week, I graduate as a Master in Science and that’s all that matters in the end. Obviously, not all that matters in the grand scheme of things. I have my health, I have my family and friends and I am ostensibly happy. Therefore, if - and this is not a far-away wistful what if, but a very real possibility were there one or two minor alternative outcomes - if I had ended up with a lower or higher class, it wouldn’t have been the most significant thing in the world, because I am not defined by my degree.

There is more to me than chemistry.

Anxiety Diet

Today, I have new clothes.

As a means of losing weight, I fully recommend the Master Plan. It costs upward of £3,000 for the course, but could lose you a dress size (or two!) with little to no conscious strive to reach the end result.  Firstly, there is a preparative part, lasting around six months, involving increasing stress levels and perpetual anxiety. This ensures that your heart speed is racing way above a normal level, consequently you burn energy more readily, as you find that you are in a heightened state of fear most of the time. Nerves shed pounds, don't forget! There is likely to be unpleasant emotional side effects, but it's totally worth it to shift that weight, right?! Combine the above with two brisk half hour walks each day, as well as keeping on your feet for most time in between, and you'll end up with inches disappearing all over the body (including boobs, unfortunately, but you can't have it all...)

The last part of the diet lasts around a month and consists of a daily dollop of stress and not much else. You are so focussed on other activities that you don't have time to cook and you just kind of forget that eating is sort of necessary to survive, or simply have lost your appetite, meaning that the mere idea of food makes you feel a little bit sick. Of course, this may be confused with the churning feeling in the pit of your gut due to concern about how little time you have and how much you have to do, but either way, the eventual aim is achieved - you consume fewer calories. If you're lucky, you may also have the stress affect your bowels, a quick and effective way to remove nutrition from your body with minimal effort. This may result in you feeling constantly drained and generally not very well in yourself, but have you noticed how flat your stomach looks when it's not bloated?

And remember, slimmer is winner!

Dire Straits

Today,  I have finished my degree.

It culminated in an oral assessment at 9am this morning.That was always going to be horrendous and while it didn't go well exactly, it wasn't quite the crisis situation I imagined. I am no longer in the dire straits that had come to be my default state of the last few months. Instead, I am ready to do the walk of life, all the road running has not been in vain. Why aye, man.

Degree - done. Now for lunch.

On the jukebox: Mark Knopfler ~ Boom, Like That

All Nighter

Today, I have gone to bed at 7am.

I have a presentation to write, practise and present for Monday. I went out last night.

It was a friend's birthday barbecue. So I mingled, and I chatted and I didn't eat much and I haven't drunk in ages, so I was more than a little bit tipsy on only half a glass of wine. But it was fun. And I felt quite young, seeing as the friend is a postgraduate, consequently, most of his friends are of a similar age or status. And I felt quite girly, as the friend is male and studies science, so most of his friends are also boys. Or men, if you think mid-twenties is probably old enough to not be a boy anymore.

Later, we went out to a bar and onto a club, but the birthday boy and various friends went home and in the end it was just three girls. So I sat in the middle and I got my ear chewed off, hearing from my right and my left about boys, high hopes and dashed dreams. Although, I could see this coming from a mile off, what can you say to comfort a girl when that happens? Because, sweetie, it's clear he's just not that into you, there's no maybes about it. And I know you can't forget, and I know it's hard to stop wanting  and I know it's mighty frustrating waiting for something that may never come about, but now you've bitten the bullet and asked the question, so somehow, somehow, you just have to let it go. It's horrible being rejected, it really is, but it's better to try than to never know.

Don't ask; don't get. 

So, we stayed in the club 'til gone three am; they bought some chips; we met some new friends and all of a sudden, it's light outside and I'm going to bed at the time that my alarm should go off. Crazy. I am very, very tired and I have absolutely lost all motivation to study at all. I went past the point of caring a while back, and it's terrible, but I just can't do it. I've spent the day listening to the radio and identifying with almost every song they play. I've eaten waffles and pasta and cheese and flapjack. I haven't had enough sleep. I want to cry. A lot. 

This blog has become awfully autobiographical of late. 

On the jukebox: Dixie Chicks ~ You Can't Hurry Love 

Perpetually Petrified

Today, I have felt like a failure.

I'm so near the end. So close. Two weeks, in terms of time. Three assessments, in terms of work. So you can tell me that it'll be fine and it'll all be over soon and that's great, thanks, but it's not much of a comfort, not really.

Drifting Away

Today, I have gone past the point of caring.

Reasons why I will definitely not be doing a PhD:

• I like routine and structure and I like when things work. Research offers none of those.
• Four more years in the same city with the same people, stuck in a lab all day? No way. 
• Too many men, too few females. I miss having girls around, you know?

Reasons why I could possibly consider doing a PhD:

• Flexible working hours and the freedom to do whatever you want, within reason.
• A 42 month contract, secured without interview and funded, tax free, £14k p.a.?! Where do I sign?
• Being around boys most of the time. You know, it's not as bad as they say. 

Okay, so I'm completely contrary but I'm sure that's no real surprise. This isn't a genuine contemplation of options by the way, I've already firmly decided that no way on earth will I be doing a postgraduate degree next year. Not after my experiences of the last few months, no thank you. In fact, on more than one occasion, I have wondered why I didn't just stick with the bachelor's when there was the choice...

However, science stress aside, I have had a great time, socially speaking and I wouldn't have wanted to miss out on that. And it's not over yet. I just have to slog through four more weeks of agony and then I am free from studying...forever. A prospect that both delights and terrifies me. Don't ask me what my plans are; I don't have them.

sugar & spice & all things nice

On the jukebox: Arctic Monkeys ~ Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor - don't know what you're looking for

Lab Buds

Today, I have been bored.

Research is dull. It's not all world changing and 90% of the time is spent working out what went wrong in the other ten percent. Reactions rarely go as expected, such is the nature of research: there are no definite answers. And you could end up with a fascinating result. Or you could end up with nine months of nothing.

Last year, labs used to be largely about laughs with your mates, among other benefits. Now, labs are rubbish again. Not particulary difficult or strenuous just downright frustrating and tedious. Most of the time it doesn't work and when it does, it's just annoying that it took so long, it barely even warrants the satisfaction that should come with success.

I feel like a first year. I have colleagues, but colleagues aren't friends. They are people you have to spend your days with. And half the time we spend in silence on adjacent computers. There's a lot of waiting around. Waiting for reactions to run, waiting for analysis to come, waiting to press a button at the right time before the world implodes. Or something less severe. There's a lot of waiting around and not a lot of conversation.

That's the difference, I suppose. Undergraduate labs still involved a lot of waiting around, but there was always people, always conversation. It was okay to ask questions, it was okay to talk to your friends, it was okay not to know exactly what you're supposed to be doing. Now, I am a frequent face in at least three different laboratories and I only know a handful of people who I pass on a daily basis. And while there's people I smile at, or have a corridor chat with from time to time, there's far more that I wouldn't so much as make eye contact with, despite the fact that we both know we see each other around all the time. How are you supposed to talk to strangers without the wonderful aid of alcohol? How do you infiltrate the cliques that have so clearly built up their closed circuits that anyone attempting to break in by striking up a menial conversation would be seen as a freak, a weirdo, someone who has no friends of their own, so tries to befriend anyone. What the hell are you doing here? You don't belong here.

I'm not a buzzing socialite, I prefer to have a few close friends. Sometimes, I do just like to sit and think and not have to make small talk with everyone I meet. But sometimes, it gets tiresome just speaking to the same two or three people. Sometimes, I wouldn't mind being able to just chat with someone I don't know that well about nothing in particular. Or just an acknowledgement of some sort.

As much as I hate to admit it, alcohol tends to be the key to building those bridges. Not that I have to drink it, of course, but if it helps me pretend like I'm less of an oddball for just wanting to say hi, then I'll play along. And it works, for an evening. After that, it goes back to 'normal' because without the atmosphere and the alcohol to mask themselves, everyone's too scared to reach out.

On the jukebox: S Club 7 ~ Bring It All Back

Dancing Queen

Today, I have had a good, good night.

I've had enough of clubbing. Once in a while, it's fun to dance a bit, for a couple of hours, but I find it hard to hack the whole night in such a stinky, sweaty place stuffed full of students. Three years is enough, and I didn't even experience or enjoy it particulary during those years. Despite that, if I let go and decide that okay, I don't do alcohol and okay, I don't have to do this every week and okay, almost everyone is younger and thinner and more drunk than me then somehow, it becomes a lot easier to have a good night.

Last night was fun, in several respects.

I like music. It's too loud, but I know a lot of the songs and so I can sing along. I like dancing. I really like dancing. And I can go crazy spinning and jumping and skipping and no-one thinks any less of me, because they don't need to know that I'm not drunk. The clarity of mind that comes with being sober is amazing because you have potential to act however you like whilst being fully aware of what you're doing, but the fact that everyone else is suitably inebriated to do the things you'd quite happily do without inhibition anyway, means that you don't look like too much of a fool or a weirdo.

I like watching and meeting people. It's easy to almost invisibly observe the amusing behaviour or casually participate in interesting exchanges with people you wouldn't so much as smile at if you saw them anywhere else. But you don't have to be best friends, or even flirtation potential, you can still have a common link in conversation. A sort of suspended reality in which any interaction is possible. It kind of makes me a bit sad that we have to have alcohol to be able to talk to people we don't know. How else do you just strike up a conversation with someone without thinking that there's an ulterior motive? What kind of world do we live in?

Anyway, when I get tired and hot from dancing a lot, I sit or stand and I watch for a bit and sooner or later someone will come up to me. And they will give a glance or a gesture, or they will try to sing in my face, or grab me around the neck or the waist and get me to join in. And there are some you can immediately shrug off and they'll stumble away without a second thought. But some might actually try and chat, which is hard in a place where you can't even hear yourself think and the sound is so loud it moves in your body. But they try and they make an effort to actually find out what you're like, rather deciding that what you look like or the fact that you're female is good enough for what they want.

So, you figure that the place is full of people younger and thinner and more drunk than you. But a few aren't. And maybe you have an air of maturity, or the focused eyes and unswaying stance of sobriety but somehow it's the person who also doesn't drink who catches your eye, or the post-grad who is here on a one-off social that happens to be drawn to you. And so you talk, or you get a drink, or you dance, and it's fine and comfortable and no expectations are held and somehow, in this dire dismal heaving hovel, you've found some sort of enjoyment that you couldn't have previously conceived.

The fact remains: I don't really like clubbing. But if you make the effort to make it a good night, accept that it's going to be loud, and lads are going to push their luck and girls are going to act inconsiderately and it's going to be rammed and there's going to be people having sex in the corner of the club because some people have no shame, then you accept that it's not going to be the most fun you've ever had, and you go in knowing all that, you might just find that it can be more fun that you expect.

I'm so tired and it feels like I haven't slept at all, which isn't far from the truth. I ache all over and I can't wait for bedtime. I had a good, good night, though.

Oh, to be a student.

On the jukebox: Black Eyed Peas ~ I Gotta Feeling

Think Tank

Today, I have the internet.

I don't talk to myself. I write to myself, which is only worse because there's a record of it. I've been very tired this week, but I've also had a lot of time to think. However, life is more than just thinking about things, sometimes you need to do something instead.

I really want to like, go out there and join something. It's not really for my CV, to be honest, although obviously, it's good to show you have other interests etc, but I want to do this for me. To meet new people, to actually do an activity that doesn't involve being on the computer constantly. I want to have hobbies, interests, stories to tell, even if they're not as exciting as we went to this gig and she pulled this guy and then he pulled this guy and you'll never guess what, the dude was actually a chick...or something cool like that.

So I went to the societies fair. I gave a cursory glance to the knitting stall, not quite brave enough to approach and admit that I want to learn to knit, I truly do. To wear something or give something and be like, yes, I made that, and not everyone can do that. Because I'm not a terribly creative person, I chose to study science, after all. But I think this is something I could do. And the photo society too, but I feel like I should be better than I am at photography - when you say you work for a photography company, people expect you to be amazing, I mean, anyone can take a photo these days, what makes you so special? And I'm not. I can catch the odd candid, but I know feck all about appropriate iso and f/stops. And being scientifically inclined, that should be the bit I'm good at, right? So when it comes to like, striking landscape and terrific travel photography, well, that's just not me. Getting the lighting right? I dunno, I'm mainly just a dogsbody who makes the tea. Milk and sugar?

Speaking of photography, how impressive do fire poi pictures look? Très awesome, that is the answer, if you can do it properly. So I spoke to the girl at that stand as well, she offered me a staff to have a go and I was like, no way, I've never even tried it before. But if you join, you can go along and see how to do all the juggling and whizzing and whirling and twirling and there's people to help. I'm clumsy, and not awfully dexterous though, I think I wouldn't be very good at it.

I'm too scared and I hate not being good at stuff. I also want to go to dance classes, but I don't have my tap shoes here, or my SLR, or a friend to go along with and I know you'll say I'll make friends there, well of course I will, but still, it's the effort and everything and it's so easy to just be like, well, I'm working long lab days now, so do I really have the time or the energy? Of course I should focus on my work, yes, I didn't do three years of an undergraduate degree to just throw it away for a chance to fling some fire around or fiddle with photoshop, right? And so you'll say, yes, but you need a life outside of work, right? And sometimes these kind of experiences can be far more valuable in the long term. Well yes, but I'm scared and when you're scared, it's so easy to just stand still in fright like a petrified rabbit, because if you try to cross over the road, you might just die. But then again, if you try to leap, you might just make it.

I'm not sure that analogy even makes sense. But when did they ever? Someone, please, tell me what to do because I spent all of last night stuck in the metaphorical middle of two girls who are in love, unrequitedly, with the same boy and oh gosh, spending a sober evening having each of my ears successively gnawed off by these ridiculous females inbetween being unwillingly groped by old men is enough to drive a girl to drink.

I need an alternative distraction.

On the jukebox: Peter Grant ~ Windmills Of Your Mind

Perpetual Nomad

Today, I have packed.

I am the eternal traveller. I move with the seasons, never staying in one place for more than three months at a time. Britain is brilliant, and I have experienced more of it than ever before this summer - roaming from Land's End to Scotland with many stops in between - my city visits of the past few months sound like I plucked them straight out of the Sunday Times Good University Guide: Bristol, Bath, Oxford, Warwick, Nottingham and beyond. I've been to three of the four capitals of the UK, to the beach, on a plane, in a tent, on a boat, to see buildings, to see bridges, to see sights, to see shops. Life is dandy.

It's been wonderful, it really has and I've been able to spend time with many friends along the way. But juggling so many different activities, spending days with all these distinct groups and individuals, means I've barely had time to pause for a moment; too tired to think. On the hours in which I've had a second to spare I inenvitably waste it, spaced out on the computer or lying in the sun, which is not always a bad thing, I suppose, but sometimes I wish I had a bit more time to focus, you know? Honestly, what will become of me?

I feel a little like I'm losing touch with reality, I've got a heavy heart and an anxious mind. Saturday is the last day of my current occupation. Monday, I start anew in a fresh house in a familiar city. That's one day to gather together my drifting thoughts, sift through scattered belongings and haphazardly stuff them into the trusty transporter to start yet another trip along one of the many motorways of this country. One day to reflect on the season past; one day to ponder the ones to come; one day to worry about the next chapter of my life as it stands.

I don't think one day is enough.

On the jukebox: Nelly Furtado ~ All Good Things - I'm like a bird.

Tea Time

Today, I have had a cup of tea.

"when did everyone suddenly become obsessed with drinking tea?!"

Not 'til student days did drinking tea become habitual for me. Prior to then, I remember clearly one of my first trips into tea sips on a freezing cold, wet and dreary day out. I don't like chocolate - a cup of hot cocoa was never going to be an option - so I had some tea to warm me up. I wasn't overly enamoured with the stuff, but then it did come from a machine - grey, bitty, lukewarm liquid in a polystyrene cup - so perhaps not the best start.

Once at uni, tea-drinking was to the daytime as alcohol-drinking was to the night. That is, there was the potential to find yourself left out without a mug in hand, or alternatively, a part of a fabulous group of friends purely based on the fact that you shared hot water from the same kettle. It was a bonding thing, to make a cup of tea was to make people like you. And since I was Queen of Mugs and Chief Milk Provider, I was quite popular with the tea-drinkers. We'd sit and sip and chat and share and watch banal daytime TV as if we had nothing better to do, which in actuality is not so far from the truth, we were students after all...

Do you care for tea?

Why yes, I'm very fond of tea

So yes, it's tea all the way. Milk, no sugar, thanks. Ordinary or Earl Grey, preferably, sometimes Green, White or Chamomile in the evening - too much caffeine makes me jittery and aids insomnia. No biscuits, no chocolate wafers, no jam & bread. Just tea will do me. Tea's comforting. Tea's wonderful. I love the Tea. (and the jewellry...)

it's always tea time

On the jukebox: Arcade Fire ~ Wake Up

Riding Wagons

Today, I have drunk in moderation.

I dislike that staying sober is such a significant decision to make.

Why is the choice to refrain every once in a while deemed a shocking announcement, necessary to relate to a reasonable excuse as an explanation for why such an outlandish stance has been taken? I suppose it's just that it's uncommon among students, and as ever, everyone is expected to conform to the norm or else risk social shunning. Of course, everyone commends you on giving up smoking, but giving up binge drinking, what are you on some like health kick? Boring.

I don't have a problem with drinking alcohol myself, I don't have a problem with other people drinking alcohol in general. I've been drunk before, I know what it's like and I'm finding more and more that I don't like it. I know I have enough money to buy drinks, enough time to spend in bed the morning after, and enough pills and water to negate the effects of the night before. But what if I don't want to experience those consequences in the first place? What if I'd like to be aware of my surroundings and remember the good times, save my money for something that I can actually appreciate for longer than a couple of hours? I can see that part of the point is that most people don't actually enjoy spending time in dark, sweaty, noisy pits packed with people, and wouldn't dream of choosing to do so when totally sober, because it's nauseating. But if it's at a party or a pub or a barbeque, I don't mind not being completely off my face, because you know, interaction often has more satisfaction - with less friction and fewer tears - if that's the case. I can still be fun without alcohol, honest!

Plus, it makes it easier to laugh at people, and less likely that people will laugh at me.

On the jukebox: The Magnetic Fields ~ Love Is Like A Bottle Of Gin - but a bottle of gin is not like love

Closing Time

Today, I have been woken up by my body clock.

Summer signifies endings. For the past five years, that is what it has always been about. In the same way that September signifies a fresh start, Summer is the indication of everything coming to a close. End of compulsory schooling; end of sixth form; end of halls; end of university. End of friendships. And I'm thrilled that I'm doing so well, but there's always the pinches of sadness within the whirlpool of happiness. It couldn't work any other way.

It's the end.

Life is going faster than I can keep up with and suddenly it's end of term? It's all birthday, drinks, birthday, party, birthday, bbq, birthday, celebrate, one day after another constantly, without a chance to fully appreciate the moment. I'd like to stop and hold it for a bit, pin down the butterflies, gather up the fireworks and blu-tack the moments to my heart, but I think if I stand still for too long I'd just be watching it whoosh by instead and that would make me more upset.

It's the end.

I can sort of see what they mean now when they say that student years are the best ones. I don't ever plan to describe it as such, as it's been such a confusing mix of emotions, rushing throught the heights and depths of growing up at the speed of light that it's very hard to say, confidently, that it was the time of my life. But I can sort of see what they mean, now.

It's the end.

It's all going to end soon, and gosh, I'm going to miss it. Like anyone does, I already miss the moments I know I will never have again. Change is hard. It's weird and often upsetting and bound to be unsettling. But eventually, you get used to it, you accept it, and though, you know, things won't ever be the same again, you are able to move on. Because there's always something more just around the riverbend and every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. So keep swimming.

The End.

On the jukebox: Semisonic ~ Closing Time - wham! in the solar plexus

Studying Relationships

Today, I have studied.

What do you do in a relationship during exams?

You go to the library together, but don't sit at the same table, after all it's exam season, you can't afford to get distracted, you need to study. You have a little break every now and again, you go and sit outside in the sunshine together or go for a wee walk nowhere in particular. Sometimes, it's nice to have someone to hug when it all gets too much. You go home together, but stay in separate beds, after all, it's exam season, you can't afford to get distracted, you need to sleep. You don't necessarily see as much of each other as you usually would see and your time being together isn't as fun-filled as it usually would be. But at least you're not alone.

What do you do in a long distance relationship during exams?

You see each other before going back to your respective term-time abodes, and wave a long goodbye for the extended length of time you'll be apart. After all, it's exam season, you can't be flitting across the country every other weekend, you need to study. But at least you have the phone.

Alternatively...

You break up with your partner before exams start. After all, it's exam season, you can't afford to be distracted, you need to study. And it's third year. Where can we go from here?

So now, you're on your own.

On the jukebox: Lostprophets ~ Last Train Home - to every broken heart in here.

Keep Swimming

Today, I have consumed a packet of chewing gum.

Three cups of tea. Two bowls of museli with honey. The not-quite nervous breakdown appeared again this morning. Half an hour of text messages exchanged and a brief phone call later, the storm has passed.

"You always do great"

True, but that doesn't stop the irrational fear of failure and persistant panic, propelled exponentially by the sight and sound of peers' perfect notes and superior knowledge. Lack of routine leads to a wandering mind, one which is reluctant to return to full concentration once it's left to drift away. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming...

"Fancy trading revision for the real world?"

There arrives the perspective. Of course, revision is tedious, arduous and downright depressing. But probably preferable to the alternative. Revision means that I can afford to spend the day under a duvet and fit in yet another birthday meal (fifth one of the fortnight, win!) in a longer lunch break than would be permitted in The World of Work.

I'm not ready to give this up.

Exams start in two days.

On the jukebox: Anna Nalick ~ Wreck Of The Day <3