"someone saved my heart today / will someone turn the light back on?"
1 Comments Published by H on 28 June 2006 at 1:22 PM.
Despite the fact that I am far from financially solvent at the moment, I seem to keep on spending money on non-essential items. Not only did I buy the Studio Stella tickets for Ferris Bueller in the park but today alone I've further indulged my penchant for accessories that make me look like a Disney character. A pair of heart-shaped red polka dot earrings that match my Minnie Mouse shoes but also a blue alice band that isn't a million miles away from Alice In Wonderland (that is if Alice was a brunette and oriental. Er...)
I debuted both of these items when I went to my cousin's final show tonight at the London College of Communication. Having been roughing it for the past three weeks and since I've been back, I've spent most of my time in bed, so I very much relished the chance to wear all my pretty things again. Unfortunately, it did mean that I had to go and make awkward small talk with a group of hip and young gunslingers. So after watching my cousin's showreel of work and drinking some warm beer (as these occasions call for), I made my escape off into the night. Well, actually into Tesco as I had a craving for Fitness and nectarines (more backpacking food habits that are still clinging on). I bought a punnet of cherries (is that the term for cherries or is that only applicable to strawberries?) and promptly stuffed my face with two thirds of them and now I'm fearing a live re-enactment of that scene in The Witches of Eastwick.
Odd moment from today: I was queuing up in HSBC this morning to change back my currency and traveller's cheques and I found myself having to shake a small child off my leg. Repeatedly. I had a moment of panic when I thought that perhaps I would have to walk Quasimodo-style along the streets of south-east London, dragging the weeping infant along with me as he just would not let go.
I've spent the last two hours thinking about the essay that I need to do ("To what extent does the implementation of postmodern literary devices enhance a feminist literary practice?") after the disasterous events of last month. The trouble is that I simply cannot muster any semblance of motivation even though the thought of not graduating is unthinkable. I'm so unmotivated at the moment that I didn't even bother going to my contact lens check up this morning. My optician looks like Robin Cook and the mere thought of having his grinning ginger visage peering into my eyes this morning was more than enough to send me back under the covers. I had a desulatory look at the Guardian job section at the weekend and I find myself despairing at the fatuous job titles and the fact that most of the graduate opportunities are in 'media sales'. Eww.
More things to spend my overdraft on (oh. my. god.):
It's the Amazon Limited Edition Doctor Who Season 2 boxset. In the shape of a Cyberman's head (!!) It says that it comes with a free "lenticular postcard". I've no idea what that is but it sounds amazing! EDIT: I've just looked up lenticular on Wikipedia and I've spent the last five minutes transfixed by the frankly terrifying spectacle of Vic Reeves disappearing and reappearing repeatedly. Ooh. (I do hope that the lenticular postcard is of Rose's disembodied head in a television set silently mouthing the words "Doctor - help me!" Or perhaps just of the Doctor taking off and putting on his emo-specs.)
Anyway, part deux of my travelogue tomorrow dear readers, for now I am valiantly forging ahead with Cloud Atlas (which is getting marginally more exciting). Toodle pip.
I debuted both of these items when I went to my cousin's final show tonight at the London College of Communication. Having been roughing it for the past three weeks and since I've been back, I've spent most of my time in bed, so I very much relished the chance to wear all my pretty things again. Unfortunately, it did mean that I had to go and make awkward small talk with a group of hip and young gunslingers. So after watching my cousin's showreel of work and drinking some warm beer (as these occasions call for), I made my escape off into the night. Well, actually into Tesco as I had a craving for Fitness and nectarines (more backpacking food habits that are still clinging on). I bought a punnet of cherries (is that the term for cherries or is that only applicable to strawberries?) and promptly stuffed my face with two thirds of them and now I'm fearing a live re-enactment of that scene in The Witches of Eastwick.
Odd moment from today: I was queuing up in HSBC this morning to change back my currency and traveller's cheques and I found myself having to shake a small child off my leg. Repeatedly. I had a moment of panic when I thought that perhaps I would have to walk Quasimodo-style along the streets of south-east London, dragging the weeping infant along with me as he just would not let go.
I've spent the last two hours thinking about the essay that I need to do ("To what extent does the implementation of postmodern literary devices enhance a feminist literary practice?") after the disasterous events of last month. The trouble is that I simply cannot muster any semblance of motivation even though the thought of not graduating is unthinkable. I'm so unmotivated at the moment that I didn't even bother going to my contact lens check up this morning. My optician looks like Robin Cook and the mere thought of having his grinning ginger visage peering into my eyes this morning was more than enough to send me back under the covers. I had a desulatory look at the Guardian job section at the weekend and I find myself despairing at the fatuous job titles and the fact that most of the graduate opportunities are in 'media sales'. Eww.
More things to spend my overdraft on (oh. my. god.):
It's the Amazon Limited Edition Doctor Who Season 2 boxset. In the shape of a Cyberman's head (!!) It says that it comes with a free "lenticular postcard". I've no idea what that is but it sounds amazing! EDIT: I've just looked up lenticular on Wikipedia and I've spent the last five minutes transfixed by the frankly terrifying spectacle of Vic Reeves disappearing and reappearing repeatedly. Ooh. (I do hope that the lenticular postcard is of Rose's disembodied head in a television set silently mouthing the words "Doctor - help me!" Or perhaps just of the Doctor taking off and putting on his emo-specs.)
Anyway, part deux of my travelogue tomorrow dear readers, for now I am valiantly forging ahead with Cloud Atlas (which is getting marginally more exciting). Toodle pip.
I think cinema's a necessity, and so is not getting hair in your eyes, falling over, and dying. Also, what's the point in a cyberman head if you can't hold him by the handle like a handbag? Tsk. You should answer your essay question "not at all" and then draw pictures of Martin Amis bludgeoning Susan Sontag to death with a bar-stool. I hope your dreams last night were pleasant.