March Blog

I always explain these moods as 'waves'. Sometimes I'll be myself, or whom I consider my 'true' self to be: a bubbly, confident girl who is full of energy and positivity.

Sometimes, however, I'm like how I am today.

It's hard to express how I feel, which makes it hard to know how I can 'fix' this feeling. I'm not lost, but I also feel that I do not have a direction or purpose at the moment. I feel that I am floating through life, on a cloud made of marshmellows, a bit of a sticky situation but also a bit too comfortable in being there.

As many of you might know, the University of Warwick is one of the 61 universities to strike due to the staff pensions protest. This isn't going to be a blog about that, however, but a blog about how the students are affected by this. Focusing on me (of course, the owner and subject of all these blogs hahaha...).

After returning from Reading Week, the strikes immediately affected me. I had already had a week 'off', with what I would consider a well-deserved break, but I was well rested during this period and I was in the right mindset to come back to study. However, things didn't turn out the way I expected them to unfold. Whilst the first week of the strikes felt like a 'normal' week, as the days went on, more and more of my teachers wouldn't turn up to the lessons, only sending us a rushed email the day before apologising for the delay and telling us why they were striking. What interested me the most was that in these emails were no notes on what work we could do to fill our time, nor any hints that our classes would be rearranged. I told my Father this, who was outraged by one of the top universities to be running this way.

At first, I didn't mind the time off. It meant that I had more spare time to study and catch up on work, but now that I have done this, I'm feeling quite lost. It's not that I would enjoy a full 8 hour schoolday like I was put through in secondary school (oh, the trauma!), but I would also very much appreciate a structure to my days. It has felt like an extended-weekend, one that drags on for a suspicious amount of time. It has made me, as a person, extremely lazy. I wake up late, potter about the house for a bit, see my flatmates and before I know it, it's half midnight and time to go back to sleep, just to repeat the whole thing over again the next day.

It has become tiresome, and it has made me realise the importance of structure in one's life. It has been said that Monday mornings are only a bother to those who do not enjoy their job, and I can completely agree with that statement. Whilst getting up at 7:30AM is a pain, at least it means that I am out of the house by 8:00AM to get to my class. It means that I am being productive with my life, and that my commitments give my life structure and purpose. Weil once stated that one of the key requirements for having a fulfilled life is the idea that one has a purpose. One is appreciated for what one does, and one is acknowledged for one's contributions. What am I contributing when I am lazing around in my bed all day long? Absolutely nothing.

Let's share my unpopular opinion: I like attending my seminars and lectures. I like going to university, just as much as I enjoyed going to school every day from Monday to Friday. I like having structure to my life, and I like being an educational environment because I feel like I have a purpose when I am answering questions in my classes. I clearly remember my schoolmates complaining about school, yet I would be that person who would confidently state that they loved school, and were grateful for being in school. I obviously got snears, but what we ought to remember is that we should be grateful for having the opportunity to learn. Others, even in the 21st century, do not have the chance to go to school, let alone university. Therefore, I scorn on those who miss their seminars in order to lie in or play videogames. It is only in times when I do not have my classes that I realise that they are of the utmost importance in my life, and how grateful I must be to have the opportunity to attend classes which inspire me, intellectually stimulate me and open my mind the vast ideas and opinions of the world.

Yours,

My First Football Match - Derby x Wolves

I was never really that interested in football. Not that I didn't enjoy the sport, or watching 22 sweaty men run around a ball, but my family were never really into it so neither was I. However, I love to try out new things, and on Saturday, I went to the football for the first time.

My friend Steve* is an avid Derby fan. I think that he's supported the Rams since he was four, and from spending time with him I got enthralled by his enthusiasm and passion for the sport. One day, he noticed that Derby was playing an away game against Wolverhampton, and as it is relatively close to our university, we thought it a good idea to go!

After a, let's say, "heavy" night out in Leamington Spa, we pulled ourselves out of our (separate) beds and got the bus, then train, to Wolverhampton. The journey was cheap for the both of us - £4 on the bus return, and £4 for the train. What shocked me the most when we got off the train was how cold it was. In my stupidity, I thought it would be best to dress fashionably rather than sensibility, and I ended up shivering all the way to the stadium. Steve gave me his Derby scarf which did help considerably, as well as make me look a little more integrated into the crowd in which we became part of. 

We got tickets for the front bench and were therefore able to see the action up close. I feel like we both appreciated this since we're both kinda blind anyway (especially me, whose eyesight is so terrible nowadays...anyway, I digress). Before the game started, I flipped through the program Steve kindly bought for me. It was apparently the best design he'd ever seen and it now holds a position within my memory box. The game soon began, and it was off.

To begin with, I didn't really understand what was going on. Steve and the men behind us started chanting and I bobbed along to try and not seem too out of place. However, after the first goal from Derby (they ended up scoring two goals in the first half - something of a rarity for this season) I became really into it. Well, as into it as I could have been when my toes were glacials. I started recognising the songs that the crowd were singing and bobbed along in time, and cheered my favourite Derby player - Will Hughes, obviously. 

All in all, I really enjoyed myself. Derby won 3-2 against Wolves and Steve and I returned to Uni in good spirits. I would love to see another game one day, but next time I'll be sure to wear a few more layers.

* All names in this blog are fake in order to ensure the privacy of my friends and conceal their identities. However, the characters are all real people and the events actually happened

A Series of Unfortunate Events

For Everly*

Not sure why but Everly has never really come out partying with us. It's either been the excuse of Volleyball or the fact that she's overwhelmed with work. Both of which are lies, because why would one ever spend £9,000 to get active and work towards a first? Nevertheless, this Friday, Everly decided it was time to finally push the boat out and come to Everly for Steve's pre, pre-birthday celebrations.

For these pre, pre birthday celebrations, one of Steve's friends came up. By car.

This is a big thing because since coming to uni, I've had to struggle with the use of public transport and walking everywhere. Therefore, having someone who not only had a car but was willing to drive us places was a massive bonus.

Before going out to Steve's pre, pre-birthday celebrations, we decided to top up on alcohol. To do so, Steve's friend drove us to the local Tescos. When we arrived, Everly and I automatically got a cart and started food shopping. After all, why not take advantage of the fact we could finally do a big food shop without needing to carry it back?

We spent a solid hour and or so going through each and every aisle picking up whatever took our fancy. I mean, Everly went and got a sick pack of Coke cans - c'mon. After what seemed like a mere five minutes (which, by the way, was probably an hour), the three boys who were sharing the car with us came and stared in utter shock at what we were pushing in front of us.

"NO WAY ARE YOU COMING IN THE CAR WITH ALL THAT".

And with these damning words, the snakes left us to walk home with our cartload full of shopping.

But rest assured, this was only the first of our unfortunate events.

After a bit more shopping and a lot more impulse buying, we arrived at the tills. Everly went first, and beep beep beep. Sorry! No alcohol allowed since EVERLY WENT AND FORGOT HER ID! What was worse was that the cashier girl was younger than us and she had the audacity to tell us that Everly couldn't buy her alcohol, despite having adequate University ID.

This was the second unfortunate event, but there is more to come.

We obviously tried to fight the case but we soon gave up, due to pure lack of effort in fighting with a bloody minor. It was now my turn to go through with my copious amounts of food and alcohol. But alas!! Because I was seen as more than an acquaintance with Everly I wasn't allowed to buy my alcohol even though I had my ID with me.

WOE WOE WOE.

For the fourth unfortunate event in the series of unfortunate events, we had to carry about 10kg of food in our bags for more than 10 mins in the freezing cold. I was only wearing a t-shirt, which wasn't the wisest of my ideas, and one of Everly's bags broke on the way back, so we ended up on the floor sobbing surrounded by food and no alcohol.

What a way to start a Friday night out.




* All names in this blog are fake in order to ensure the privacy of my friends and conceal their identities. However, the characters are all real people and the events actually happened

Trump vs Hilary Debate

Okay so my parents and I were really pumped for the first debate and we decided to stay up until 2am to watch it live. To keep myself up, I drunk some coffee, and watched a film called 'L'auberge Espagnole' which was recommended to me by Stephen*. It's really engaging and I'd recommend it to anyone studying or interested in both French and Spanish.

Anyway, midnight approaches. I hear some embarrassed shuffling in the hallway and what do I see but my parents both getting ready for bed! Apparently they couldn't handle the late night - fair enough since they normally go to bed at 10pm and not a minute later.

So it ended up just being me staying up! After scrolling through my social media feeds a thousand and one times, the clock dragged its arms to a whooping 1:30am. I was ready to get up and go downstairs to watch the show on television but thank the Lord amen I had the bright idea of seeing if I could stream the debate on my laptop, and I could! Success!

This meant that I was able to lie on my side, on my laptop, watching the debate whilst cuddled up in bed. I saw Lester Holt from NBC Nightly News give a warm welcome to the crowd, and after a few house keeping rules, the camera only filmed the audience getting ready. By this time, it was about five minutes to two. My eyelids were awfully heavy, and I thought, 'why not take a quick five minute power nap?'. AND I FELL ASLEEP. I WAS SO STRONG FOR SO LONG BUT THEN I WAS WEAK AND GAVE INTO THE POWER OF SLEEP. I'M SO ANGRY AT MYSELF.

Anyway, I'm pretty upset and since I stayed up so late I wasn't able to wake up in time to catch it again when it was broadcast at 8am the next day. All I have to satisfy myself are some pretty dench memes circulating at the moment on Facebook. Not the best compromise, but that'll do, Donkey. That'll do.





* All names in this blog are fake in order to ensure the privacy of my friends and conceal their identities. However, the characters are all real people and the events actually happened

Ramblings #3

I AM SO ANGRY AT ALL THESE HIGH STREET BRANDS THAT USE FRENCH WORDS/SAYINGS ON THEIR CLOTHING WITHOUT EVEN CHECKING IF THEY'RE SPELT CORRECTLY.

You'd think they would have enough money in their design department budget to be able to check up to see if the words are spelt correctly, right? Well, apparently not, and bilinguals are able to pick it up VERY quickly.

I was in River Island today (NO I'M NOT GOING TO KEEP THEM ANONYMOUS BECAUSE I'M SO ANGRY) and they had a t-shirt which said 'soigné' written on it. Nice material, nice colour, nice style, but not a nice saying!!!!!! I assume they meant to reference Kanye and the typical 'blessed' and wanted to add a nice twist to it. Fair enough, indi3 af. But the term in French actually comes from the word 'soin', meaning to 'care'. This, when conjugated, can be translated to 'to be cured from'. WHICH DOES NOT MEAN BLESSED. PLEASE GET A NATIVE OR NEAR NATIVE FRENCH PERSON TO CHECK YOUR PRODUCTS BEFORE PRODUCING THEM.

Rant over.

The Truth About Concerts

If you already hate me, let me give you another reason to: I've grown to hate concerts.

Yeah, this is fairly controversial, especially for a teenage girl who's surrounded by people constantly asking her whether she's seen the latest announcements for Reading 2016. It's a hard life having an unpopular opinion.

My very first concert was when I was 14 years old. I went to see All Time Low with my friend Louise*. As to slowly immerse myself into the 'concert life', I went on the balcony. As you can imagine, it wasn't the greatest of times. It's a great view, but the vibe doesn't really spread there, and at the end of the day you're just sat there, watching your favourite musician(s) play, knowing that you could have been watching the exact same thing on LiveStream from the comfort of your bedroom. And have saved yourself 35 quid or so.

Onto my second concert: You Me At Six. This time, I was standing, and went with a group of friends. I love the band, and I know all of their songs, singing along to each and every one of them. Seems great, doesn't it? Ahh well I didn't expect to get bloody dehydrated! Just as a bit of Liquid Confidence comes on (Josh baby, I don't need a drink up to convince myself that you're cute), I collapsed onto my friend. As she drags me semi-unconsciously out of the crowd, I'm rushed to the A&E and given something to drink. Obviously, we were unable to get back to our original places, and I got teased for the next fortnight for fainting.

This leads me nicely on to stuff I find annoying about concerts.

1. What to wear. Now, this isn't just a question of a girl's wardrobe dilemma, this is more of a question whether you want to be warm outside, and boiling inside, or freezing outside, and only covered in a light sweat inside. My standard compromise is jeans, t-shirt, and a hoodie - it keeps you warm when standing outside queuing, and when you're inside the hall you're able to take the hoodie off and wrap it around your waist. Also, don't even consider bringing a coat with you. With O2 charging £3 an item, I'd rather freeze, thanks.
2. The support acts. I feel that these are either moderately ok, or they make your ears bleed. For the latter, I do feel bad for them, as it must be awful having to perform for a crowd that don't give a flip about you and are standing there, motionless, on their phones, occasionally shouting out 'next please!'
3. The sweaty tall people. Then again, this is just a problem for a 5 foot 3 hobbit like me (please can all Ringers abstain from shouting at me, yes I know hobbits are meant to be about 3 foot six). Then again, maybe others know the pain. The good thing about being small, is that you can squeeze through people or scream, in your highest pitch and most dramatic voice, 'I'VE LOST MY FRIENDS!!!!! THERE THEY ARE!!!' and point somewhere vaguely towards the front. People will let you pass, 100% guarantee or.. yeah. On the other hand, when you're stuck behind a 6 foot giant (again, yes giants are meant to be between 7-9 foot), it kind of sucks. Especially when you can't see the band/artist because you're stuck behind them and they are right in front of you. It's 2016, can't we invent some system to make all tall people go at the back? 

Okay, rant over. Or, should I say, I can't remember what else I was miffed about because I wrote this a few weeks ago. Oh well. To be honest, I'm starting to prefer the theatre than concert halls. I'm already a tired old granny before my time. This is what adulthood, responsibilities, and coursework deadlines do to you. Don't grow up, it's a trap.