The Safe Space,

Well, after a rather Merry Christmas, I think it's time to get back down to business...

Anyone that's in uni now will probably have heard of this idea of a Safe Space. The idea is usually applied within a common area and it's the idea that harassment of any kind should not exist within such a space, and that in said space, everyone is free to be themselves. 

In a way, I think that university is pretty much a Safe Space in itself, even if it doesn't mean to be. Let's face it, in university there are a lot of things which are generally more acceptable than in other parts of life. Being a student has previously been compared to submitting to a form of voluntary vagrancy. With rent prices in dedicated student accommodation buildings being more than the average student can take in loans from the SLC, many students choose to extend their debt by getting overdrafts that are offered at an interest free rate (until you graduate...it's in the fine print). Being a student makes it pretty much socially acceptable to be in debt and be living off smart price beans and bread that you cut the mould off. Yes, I have seen it done.

It's also acceptable to move home for several months of the year and sponge off of rely upon your parents' exceedingly generous hospitality, even though you're still technically paying rent on your house/flat.

The thing that convinces me the most though is that for at least the first two years, it's completely okay to have absolutely no idea with this thing you've paid out an obscene amount of money for. It's pretty much socially acceptable for the only goal to be finish this bloody degree and then figure it out from there, and I think that's because of a universally accepted truth. The world outside of the lecture halls is a scary place. 

I've been thinking recently about the things I want to do with my life and the things I will have to do to achieve what I want to achieve. A lot of it is filling in forms and jumping through hoops to impress the right people so that they hopefully give me a job where I can feel useful and contribute in my own way, but the problem is, I'm still not sure what exactly I want to do. 

I've been doing all the normal things like looking into graduate programmes and conversion courses and further study and all of that sort of thing, but it's still not narrowing it down. All the while I'm looking for different ways to keep doing the things I love, but maybe find a way of making that into a job. 

Anyway, I'm going to retreat back into my Safe Space for a little bit, and try not to think about it. At least I can comfort myself knowing that no matter how desperate to work in some kind of writing career I am, I will never work for the Daily Mail. 

Eddie,

Am I going to end up posting this? Probably. I tend to find that I write these little rambles and then post them on the internet because there are things I found a few years ago that helped me through some of the not-so-fun parts of my life. 

Some of my older friends have this label for me that I think they reckon is a bit of a joke, but to be perfectly honest, I think it's kind of completely true. I get the label of a 'sensitive soul', and I used to hate it, but now I realise that it just comes out of the fact that I invest a lot of emotion in people. 

Just over two years ago, I lost a friend I went to college with. These things are never easy, of course, but he was the last person I spoke to from my college and he kept telling me how great things were going to be when I moved to London. I loved him so much for it, because I had had a crap day and he knew it and I hated that when he needed someone, I couldn't be there for him. 

This boy This man was loved a lot more than I think even he knew. So much has been done in his memory by so many people, and it makes a lot of sense, because he deserved it. He was a really great guy, and a few weeks after I learnt what happened to him, I searched out the recordings I had made of my lessons which we were in together, but I wasn't ready for what I found. 

He quite honestly got so over excited about a sandwich that I remember thinking, it's just bread with a filling down the middle, calm down kiddo, but the words that skipped out of his mouth were "You're a lovey person, and I love ya." I heard his voice say those words, and my brain got confused, so I was crying because of missing him, but I had this beaming smile across my face, because I wasn't scared anymore.

When you lose someone so many things fly through your head, and it's very easy to let them attack your memories of that person. It's very easy to lose sight of a person, and I did that, but that voice, those few words, they brought him back to me. Those words let me have my memories back and not question them, and now I don't have to play it from my computer to hear your voice, because it's in my memory, and it's staying there.

So to you Eddy, I hope that you know, you are a lovely person, and I love you. Oh, and Happy Birthday. 

-.- (It's Our Work In Progress)

Right now I'm not sure if I want to eat my feelings or write them, but after two Christmas dinners in one weekend, I don't really think my body could deal with any more food. Besides, this is important. 

Exactly three months and eleven days ago, I was dropped off home from a date, was walked to my door and given a hug, before the male protagonist of this story went back to his car and drove 12 miles back home. The next day I was politely informed by the florist who handed me a wonderful bunch of flowers - more beautiful than I had ever seen in real life - that my cheeks had gone a wonderful shade of red. The flowers may have died, but I still have the card from that bunch and the two which followed pinned to my board in my room. 

I don't think I really realised how I was going to feel about him until the day he gave me something which made me realise that men with feelings and kindness and love do actually exist, because the story just played on the bass strings of my heart. "I found this," he told me, "On the day you emailed me back, and I want you to have it. It's a good luck charm."  It wouldn't matter really what it was, but it was something important to him, too. It's a Roman coin, and it's still sat in my room, and every time I see it, I smile. I still remember the look of shock on his face too, when I told him that I didn't care what it had been valued as, it had value to me because he chose to give it to me, and because of the reason why. 

I wake up to photographs of us every morning; they're right next to my alarm clock, and they're the last thing I see before my light goes out at night, and sometimes, when the light pollution is at it's worst outside, I can see them for all the time I'm awake between going to bed and getting out again. 

When I got tired of London, and just wanted out of here for a few hours, we went away to the countryside, where I could breathe physically and mentally, and he offered to take me out to Stone Henge, because I'd never seen it, and I really wanted to. He didn't even mind when I put the Travelling Panda on the dashboard (so she could get there first). 

He introduced me to his family, and I could see where the man he is now had come from, and I'm sure that his brief meeting with mine showed him where some of my quirks and oddments came from.

It's in the everyday things, too. I wake up every morning to a text from him, even if it's just "Morning, how did you sleep?" This feels like starting my day right, and it would feel weird attempting to sleep without first texting and saying "Goodnight" and "Sweet Dreams", but that's us. 

And here's the thing,... he's stuck by me through my illness the last few months, he's known when to deal with my tantrums and when to just let them play out, and he's known all along that I love him for each and every moment. 

We've all picked up our little nicks and scratches somehow. We've all got some insecurities and some problems, but when you find the right person, the one person you want to stick with, those things don't matter at all, and you love them more because it's a part of them. I admit to having a lot of those, and I was probably pretty odd to start with, but he's never seemed to mind, and his quirks actually seem to fit next to mine.

When you find someone that fits next to you, what's the point in looking for something else? What on Earth could measure up to something which comes in and fills your heart and your life? Honestly, there is nothing.

I've had more good moments than bad moments with him, and I've loved him throughout. This is our relationship; this is all of it. 

I know as a writer, I'm kind of responsible for pretty words and clever phrases. I am a chief of made belief, and my role in that is to make people believe what they want to believe with socially acceptable lies, but the odd thing is, when I try and apply that "skill" to my feelings, I come up blank very often on what to say, but as I said at the start, this is important. It needed to be said. 

83,

I didn't know what I wanted to call this blog post, so I've just given it the name 83 because it's the 83rd blog I'm posting on this platform. Pretty cool, huh? 

What's even cooler is that the blog has now had 2774 views in it's lifetime, which I'm pretty proud of actually, so to all of you who are reading, or have read before, thank you very much; you've made a small Charlie rather happy. 

In other news, a no longer so little project that I've been working on since the age of fourteen has now been put on hold in favour of making something different. Originally I was knitting patches of all shapes and sizes, then stitching them together to make a large patchwork blanket (it still needs a lot of the patches stitching on) but that has moved over to make way for knitting tiny Christmas stocking decorations for our tree. 

The pattern for the original socks was cute, but after a couple of variations with sizing, and pattern, I've found that I much prefer these little cutie booties:

The best part is, the size is quite literally perfect to hide a little chocolate in.

Yeah, so maybe some people think that it's a little bit sad, because knitting is a granny sport, right? WRONG. 

Crafty little bits like this can be really great to give you something to do instead of vegging out in front of the TV or something to do at the same time. Most don't require a lot of brain power - though obviously there are more complicated patterns if you want to go for that - and you're left at the end with something you can use. 

Both my female grandparents, and my mother too, really enjoy making things out of wool, and the best thing about these little stocking booties is that you barely need any wool to do it really. It's a great way to use the last bit of a ball, that you might have just thrown away otherwise...

I enjoy making them, and they've filled up our tree quite nicely. 

LONG LIVE THE CRAFTY BUGGERS! 

Not a Happy Charlie,

Maybe this is just me, but I think that as we're getting closer to Christmas , customer service becomes even more important. Let's face it, if what you're buying if for a child who believes in Santa Claus, you're going to have to be very creative in your reasoning for why the present at the top of their list is the one that Santa accidentally left in the sleigh, but is going to drop off next week. Kids are smart; that won't wash.

Yesterday, I spent some extra money on next day delivery, because that made it one business day for shipping, which to me meant that it would arrive today, or Saturday at the latest, but I got an email today telling me that it is expected to be delivered on Monday. I might as well not have bothered paying the extra. I was considering recommending the company to a friend, but that has definitely gone out of the window now. 

I'm sure that seems a little excessive, because real Christmas isn't for another week and a half, but before we all travel home to our families, my housemates and I are having a pre-Christmas meal with the boyfriends, Secret Santa presents and a reasonable amount of alcohol, and it's this Sunday, hence the deadline and Monday being completely unacceptable. 

Not a happy Charlie, at all. 

Okay, I Just Panicked,

After sorting out my list, I went ahead and actually did a couple of the things on it, which is pretty surprising because I very often make the list and then forget it... 

One essay is down, I have the books I need for the next one, I found my railcard and my keys, and I even went to my lecture today. Now that I'm trying to do my next essay things are becoming problematic again. 

It seems I only notice that my room is in dire need of tidying and a fairly decent hoovering when I have an essay to do, and I also wasted a good half an hour wading through the box of notebooks which takes up a large amount of space in my room. I HAVEN'T TOUCHED IT IN MONTHS!! Oh, and there is also investing new coats on eBay and planning a present for my friend who is having a baby...in about July. 

The only plus point I have is that I have time tomorrow, my weekend bag is half backed and I have dealt with most of my Christmas shopping already, so that's no longer a concern. Oh, and I have the basis of an introduction, although that needs a little bit of rejigging so that it's right. 

Wish me luck,.

Manning the Procrastination Station,

It's really difficult to get me to sit down and focus on any one thing at a time. 

I'm still trying to write an essay, and I have another to do for Thursday, but the time it needs to be submitted is only ten minutes after I step off a train in Manchester, so it needs to be done even before then, along with a lot of other things, which is starting to get me a little bit stressed, and my head is buzzing, which is really not helping, so I've got my cup of tea and I've just finished watching a Come Dine With Me marathon.

The other great thing for making me relax is making a list of all the things I need to do, so I can tick them off when I'm done with them. So here it is: 

Politics essay,

Change over library books,

Psychology essay,

Pack my weekend bag,

Find my railcard and my parents house keys, 

And of course, I need to make sure I get into all three of my lectures this week.

When I can't even watch television without having a notebook or knitting in my hands, it's really difficult for me to get to sit down and focus. Even when I'm writing, that happens. 

Anyway, best get back to it. 

I Want to Go Back to Sleep,

Before I came to university, I was ridiculously excited and I felt like I'd be interested in everything. I realise now that it's only true up until a point, and that's the point when you start having to do essays on it.

I'm currently studying Political Philosophy, and don't get me wrong, it's amazing, because to see the theoretical foundations which politics was built on amazes me, and it really makes you see that we've diluted the ideas in order to make a practical system, but here's the annoying thing. 

With it being a term essay, there are three set questions and that's your lot. I'm reading - and occasionally writing - about Rousseau's ideas of freedom and forcing people to be free, but whilst I'm reading that, I'm having to filter out his ideas and views on democracy - there wasn't a question on that - and while I know I can read it and hope there is a place on the exam I can write about it, I find it really difficult to skip over that part, which I find particularly enthralling, to sections about the conflicting arguments on liberty within the Social Contract. 

Such is life though, I guess. 

And yes, I am a bit of a nerd. 

I Can't Even,

I'm irritable now, which might be at least partly down to the instant coffee, but it's mostly down to this. 

At university this year, I'm studying seven modules. With procrastination being a lot easier, even if far less productive, than reading the essay and actually, I don't know, writing it!, I've been looking up a couple of the textbooks for this module and here's what I found:

Two of the books are more than twenty quid on Amazon. It's really annoying me! I get that the latest edition of the book, in perfect condition with next day shipping and everything like that is going to cost a bit more, but I'm used to being able to go to Amazon and get books for under a fiver. I like those days. I've not even finished the list of books I want for this course and the total is up to fifty quid, excluding delivery! I'm sorry Amazon, but I can't afford that. 

Okay, I need to qualify can't afford that. 

Fifty quid on books is a bit ridiculous since the university does technically have a few copies of most of them and the central library for our university probably has the rest, but it's been recommended we have our own copies of the core text books, and I understand why. What's more, I like having the copies of them.

I can afford forty quid on boots today, because a, they're burgundy and beautiful, b, I've been staring at them for weeks, c, they are really comfortable, d, I haven't had any calf length boots for years and my footsies get cold and most importantly THEY WERE 60% OFF!!!

Yeah. 

I know it ought to be simple maths, and perhaps if I had known the cost of the books before, I would have....no, I wouldn't. I can't borrow shoes from a library!! 

Anyway, I have happily found one of the expensive ones on eBay, so that shouldn't be too bad, and I can just raid the reliable charity shops when I go home and see if I can find a few of them cheaper! 

Dr Strangelove: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb,

I'm posting this today because I finally had the drive to finish writing it...because I should have been doing something else. Ah well. 

I know, okay? Anything by Stanley Kubrick is such a cliche to have as your favourite film if you're a student, or is that just at my university?, but I want you to read the reason why before you think I'm just on the bandwagon twiddling my brain cells.

During the Cold War, people were terrified of the idea that the only real nuclear deterrent, that of Mutually Assured Destruction, was going to fail. What's the logical thing to do? Make a film about it. 

The absurdity of the film was brilliant, because it made sure that the public saw that the idea was outrageous. Unless the ruler of a country with massive nuclear power was completely certifiable, and wanted nothing more than to cause the end of the world rather than your run of the mill despotic man with a hint of Napolian syndrome (they always seem to be short!), it wasn't about to happen. Even better, it gave people a way to actually talk about the nuclear threat. 

Yes, there are some funny points where we get to poke fun at some really silly things that people might have actually said at one time or another, like "Gentlemen, you can't fight in here; this is the war room." and of course the typical American portrayal of the overly polite Brit, but seriously, it means that we can talk about the nuclear threat, even now, without feeling like we have to do so in hushed tones.

This became even more clear to me a couple of days ago, when a friend complained about being shown a documentary on 9/11 in a lecture. All possible problems with that aside, it sparked a conversation, and it gave us the chance to talk about it. A conversation about 9/11 or the Cold War is something we would normally avoid, but for about ten minutes we talked about it and what we thought about the television documentaries and films which have been made after it, and that's important.

These things are just too big for a person to cope with, so we need something to start the conversation. You don't know how much a person was affected by these things until you do.

Hijacking Entertainment,

This is something which people like to have a bang of the drum about pretty often actually, but I want to look at it from a different side of things really. 

The tickets for the gig I went to last night, were supposed to be £41 each with a pound booking fee, but instead, the price for them was in the hundreds. Knowing that the vendor who sold them had 16 pairs which he sold for the same amount means I can work this out: he made £3,456 profit from that one gig, which is more than most of the people working for the 02 make in a month. 

I understand that some people don't go out to work, and there are a variety of jobs which allow someone to sit behind their computer and earn their keep, but I'm not stupid enough to think that it's the only gig he was charging extortionate amounts for tickets for, and he's not the only one, or the worst. 

These days, gigs and festivals seem to reach a certain level of acclaim because they sell out in however many hours, and while it is terrible that then real fans are made to pay through the nose Togo and see the bands they want to see live, the thing that gets me is that there were empty seats at that gig last night, and at a sold out gig, that should never happen. 

Okay, so it's not like the 02 looked half empty, and neither band probably realised there were a couple of people missing, and because the seats will have been sold to tauts or whatever, they're still getting paid the same, but that's however many people's experiences missed because someone saw a way to make some easy money. That look so like stealing from the public in so many ways to me. 

Anyway, I'm sure most people who actually read this are currently in bed, so I'm also going to hit the sheets, but there's going to be a new film blog up in a few days about a classic and it's one of my favourites...I'll tell you why later!

Nickelback @ The O2,

This is going to be written very quickly, because my sleepy tablets are kicking in pretty fast, and I need as much sleep as possible because I feel sick as a dog.

Earlier today Ben and I were actually discussing if it was a good idea for me to go out tonight, because it's pretty obvious that my body has decided it's allergic to the weather and it's time for one of my bi-annual chest infections. I'm not quite into the depths of it yet, but I'm at the point where breathing hurts, my sinuses are bunged up to hell and my throat feels like I've been swallowing fire. 

I'm pretty sure that I came out with the phrase, I'm going if it kills me, a couple of times, and well, it has. All the screaming and the shouting and the singing along has left me with a voice like Steven Hawking, and the blast of the kick drum has left my heart feeling pretty wobbly and in a bit of pain, but **** ** it was magical. (Magical is my new favourite word for all the stuff I love, which pretty much fits because of Fairies...) 

I felt like the name of the support act, Skillet, was familiar, and not just because we have in common that we belong in the kitchen doing the cooking. :P Although I'm pretty sure the singer was on something - and I'm not sure that something was legal - their performance was beyond phenomenal, as well as pretty unique with the inclusion of a violin and cello which isn't exactly typical "rock-and-roll", is it? They also have an amazing drummer, and she's bloody hot! 

Their music is kind of Papa Roach in style, but somehow, it's even better. It's best when it's loud and bass-y - so they are fantastic live! Their first UK album is coming out soon, and there should be a tour to follow. They're definitely a band to look out for. 

Now, if you've never seen Nickelback, but you know how they can be with the whole, drinking on stage and breaking the drum mics and shit, you might expect their live sound to be shit, and let's face it, with all the amazing things you can do with a computer, who needs to be a decent musician these days? Honestly? Bands that play the O2, because a shitty little computer can't bring a place like that to it's feet, raising the hands and voices of the audience and reminds them what they felt like the first time they heard a Nickelback track. 

Yeah, okay, so they're doing shots on stage, yeah, they broke the drums for a minute, and yeah, the fans did a couple of things they're not supposed to like standing on other people's shoulders, smoking in the O2 and throwing drinks, but that's because they made sure every single one of the 16000 people who came out for them had a cracking time, and came alive with their music. It didn't matter if it was Far Away - where they were joined on stage by none other than Timmy Dawson, an ex member of the band - where members of the crowd swayed along with their phone flashlights (because lighters are too much of a health and safety risk these days apparently) swaying in the air, or the much heavier beats of Burn It To The Ground and Something in Your Mouth, it was obvious that it was a night to remember for everyone there. They even took part in what feels like a tradition in gigs for me, by performing a cover which sounds better than the original, but guys...slightly awkward...It was a SUNDAY night. Still alright for fighting, if you are so inclined though...

So yes, we arrived hours early and didn't quite know what to do with ourselves. Yes, I've drank so much tea that I'm starting to grow leaves. Yes, my skin reacted to my t-shirt, so that during Skillet's performance, I had to change into a shirt with no buttons, and hope no one was watching (or worse, filming. Yikes!) and my stomach was on display for the rest of the gig, which was less than comfortable, though definitely very cool when everyone ended up cramped together. Yes, it pisses me off that the O2 charges £2.30 for a bottle of water, then takes the lid off of you, because you might attack someone with it, even though it is clear from your speaking voice that actually, you're just rather ill and having a bottle with no cap is somewhat cumbersome actually you absolute knit wit people!! Yes, I felt like the bass amps were giving me unrequired CPR, 

but do you know what? I don't give a flying butterscotch and fudge cake 

because it was awesome. 

Though there is another rant coming tomorrow, not specifically about this gig though....

Going to bed now. 

Conducting the Internal Orchestra,

Whilst NaNoWriMo was rolling along - by which I mean my own submission, as I know the competition continues for another 7 days - I was attempting to write a blog every day, however I obviously failed in this endeavor. I should also admit that I failed to write anything towards my NaNo project every day, however the important part to me is that the 50'000 word target was reached, and it was reached in 19 days, because I had a bit of a roll. 
I managed two days that were over 10k and one day that was only about 90 words short. Trust me, that's pretty special after I didn't have a 10k day last year. 

Granted, this is not the standard of Yours, which admittedly I do still need to finish editing, and I was sort of distracted by the fact that all I wanted to do was sit down and write more of my new favourite project, Dreaming in Colour, but the beauty of it was this. I proved that I can force myself to sit down and write 1667 words+ in a day. I proved that I can function within my friendships and my relationship and, in some ways, in my studies whilst also working on a novel which has taken over 99.9% of my brain. It's just a shame that that can't continue after my piece of writing is finished. 

Most of you probably get that my life is a very fast paced mash up of a lot of things. At the moment, I feel like I'm trying to perform the circus trick of spinning plates on the top of sticks, but instead of performing it like a total Master of the Trade (Mistress sounded too suggestive...) I'm letting my very Greek inclinations come out and instead of spinning the plates, I'm dropping them or throwing them to the floor, then dancing around clicking my fingers in this sort of fashion. 

In a way, getting through life is like conducting this internal orchestra, getting all the timings of things right, telling which voices in your brain are allowed to pipe up at what time, because it's slightly ridiculous to be worrying about certain things now when they're bloody months away, right? But currently, I'm trying to do this conducting with a tea spoon and a bar of chocolate, because it's about the only way I can stop myself blowing a fuse of biting people's heads clean off.

The fact is, university is stressful, even when you only have lectures for six hours a week, there is more to it than that. Work is stressful, especially retail towards Christmas, and having to think about all the things you have to do for the role you're currently doing, and a role you may be looking at, and fitting it around everything else in your life. My health is currently stressful, and I can't wait to see if and when my medication kicks in and I start feeling less ill and sleeping better without taking Nytol. Being in therapy is really stressful, because things that are wrong with you now are mostly caused by things that happened in the way back when of your existence and going back over that isn't something that's easy. 

Do you know what else is stressful? Writing. It is really stressful, because you'll be constantly thinking your're spending too much time on writing or observing and not enough time on the other. Even when you've finished something, you have to think about editing it, what you want to do with it next and then getting it through a whole different process, which in itself is another stress, because it's like a birth, but you have a choice in it. Mother's have no choice in giving birth to the baby they have been nurturing, but as a novelist, you have to bring yourself to give birth to your creation, to give it life and let it leave you, and let the world think what it will. When your writing is your art, that is a very difficult thing to do. 

The point of this blog is more than venting, in a way, because I want anyone who is still battling through the trials of NaNo and all the lovely winter diseases and distractions and procrastination stations to know that it is possible, whether it's your first or your fourteenth, it's easy to think of this as one of the labours which Heracles was spared from, but it's not.
It would also be nice if some of those annoying people who bitch about students without knowing anything about how trying it can be read it and either shut up or lowered their voices a little bit. It also might be nice if the same happened to a few of those lovely buggers who don't think of writing as a profession. 

But even if not, I've done something today. After a day with my boyfriend and a shift in work, I've sat down and I've written something, with imperfections, and given it out to the world. Today, for the first time since I published the last blog on here, I gave up something I had written, because it's not just for me. 

I can't wait to be ready to do that with Yours,, and for other people to be ready to do that with what is their's. 

...

I'm having one of those days.

Today started off with me feeling tired and groggy and being a bit of a cow, and I know that. It's going to end with me being tired, grumpy and a complete cow.

I didn't want to get up this morning, but Ben and I had planned to go out to the country and do some walking, and I did actually want to go. My muscles felt useless before we started, and now they are useless because they're done in, but in a good way. Four and a half hours of cliff walking, raiding through mud and being out of phone reception was a little bit of bliss.

I came home to find out that a lady who has been in my life for a lot of years is rather ill; as in, got to the point of discussing funerals kind of ill, and it's irritated the crap out of me.

I'm not irritated my mum told me, because I've been wanting to know. This saga has been going on for the last couple of months, but all along everyone has just been asking for answers. Now there is an answer, but it's an answer that doesn't have a cure. And that's what's irritating.

And this is all after a conversation that wasting every Sunday of your life means - if you live for fifty years - you waste 7.12 years.

Today has been phenomenal and today has been shit.

11814, and a Magical Weekend, ~

I meant to write this on Saturday night, but we were in the hotel room furthest from the router, meaning that it only worked if I sat at the foot of the bed, and even then it was kind of slow. 

Saying that, as the title suggests, it was magical.

I've mentioned before that I've been having health problems recently, and with this week being reading week, I wanted to just get out of London for a little bit, so instead of disappearing back to Manchester for a week, or something similar, we decided to go to a place called Hook instead, stay in a hotel for the night and then just do some walking in the country for the next day. Bit of fresh air and all that. 

Anyway, I'm doing that thing where I get ahead of myself. 

Friday was one of the most awesome days in the history of my life, because by 7 o'clock in the evening, I had done it! I REACHED 10K ON THE FIRST DAY!! For a NaNoGeek, that is a pretty magical moment, and I rewarded myself with the obvious - beer and chocolate. :) Oh, and a big shop in Asda that will more than likely last me until the end of NaNo. :) 

Saturday was then a pretty odd, mismatched day, but we eventually got on the road at about half five, and we were there in less than an hour and a half. I'm very lucky to have a ridiculously understanding boyfriend, because as I sat for probably just longer than an hour completing a word count for Day 2, he didn't complain once and just sat watching the TV. 

So then yesterday we went to a lovely place called Odiham Castle which was built in the 13th century - obviously it's a ruin, but it's absolutely beautiful, and the walk down the river to get there was nothing to turn your nose up at either. We then had a little wander down to the village to see what was there - to be honest, there wasn't that much, but it was a pretty sort of place. Since I wasn't really ready to come back to the city just yet, Ben gave me a choice - we can go to Birdworld on the way back (I don't think either of us considered this as a serious option) or Stonehenge is forty minutes in the other direction. 

People don't always get this, but I'm from the North. As much as I have seen some of the different things which the North has to offer, most of my travelling has been London, or places which are out of this country. Or Scarborough. The reason why I am stating this is because people, Ben included, are always shocked when I haven't been to certain Southern Landmarks or towns. Until a couple of weekends ago, I'd never been to Brighton. Until this weekend, I had never seen Stonehenge which was why I got so over excited about it - and why I was glad that the Travelling Panda had found her way, with absolutely and totally no help from me what so ever, okay, maybe a little :P, into my weekend bag to come with us. Guess what? I've still never been to Thorpe Park - BECAUSE I'M NORTHERN! We have our own theme parks - and we're hard as nails. The only park scarier than ours is either Chernobyl or Snake Pass (the road you take to get to Alton Towers. On a coach, it's a bit scary...) 

Anyway, after a reasonable amount of walking yesterday, all the fresh air, and the joys of my lungs not seeming very happy about our return to London, all I wanted to do last night was watch Downton Abbey and drag my butt to be, so yes, I'm still on 11418 words, but I'm going to get on with doing some more today. 

Wish me luck. 

3015~

I'd say that's a healthy start, right?

So, yes, I was one of those people who stayed up until midnight+ and started writing just on the start line. I love to do it, because I find it really hard to wake up and see what time in the morning it is, know that precious hours of November have already slipped away and my word count is still at zero. 

I stayed up until four due to a multitude of reasons:

1. Though my laptop is no longer on the brink of extinction  I have been rather wary about loading software onto it. The trial for Microsoft ran out yesterday, so I needed to get some new software and get it fast. Thanks to the new running speed of my laptop, OpenOffice was downloaded and fully installed in under ten minutes. 
2. One of my friends wanted to chat, so we stayed on the phone for about an hour and a half while we discuss life, the universe and motorbikes.
3. NaNoWriMo  Manchester have a pretty awesome set of people who stay up and chatter until it no longer looks like too ridiculous a time in the morning to be awake. While this is a good thing, it is a little worrying. 
4. I wanted a good start, and I'd say 3015 is just that. Since I don't have much else to do today, I think today could be it. It  has the potential to be one of those wonderful 10k days. Check back tomorrow to see if I make it.

Unfortunately these don't count towards my word count, so that's enough from me!

Dear November,

Are you getting nervous yet, because I'm getting nervous!! In a way, the start of NaNoWriMo feels like Christmas Eve. Chris Baty is Santa and the novel you will start - and hopefully finish - is the best present that you can ever get yourself. Except maybe the over bath tray from Butlers with two wine glass holders: that would be pretty amazing, too. It even holds your book up while you're... No, your novel is the best gift because you can point at it whenever somebody else or even that horrible little voice inside your head tries to tell you that there's something you can't do. You can quite literally turn around to it and say, I wrote a NOVEL, that's 50 THOUSAND WORDS in A SINGLE MONTH, come at me bro. 

Anyway, we're not there yet are we. There are no words on the page yet - or there shouldn't be unless you live in one of the time zones where it's already Friday - there may be ideas in your head, there may not, there may be characters, but perhaps you have not a clue. Here's the thing, IT DOESN'T MATTER. 

From my own experience, I know writing a load of crap is better than not writing, because you read it and you know why it's crap. The first few days of NaNo2010 I had no idea what I wanted to write, the results of which (my beloved Fairies) is now available on Kindle worldwide. My entire novel for NaNo2011 was eventually deleted because I became bored with the idea, but I proved to myself that I could sit down and write it. I have also contemplated using the characters for other things because I loved them so much by the end. NaNo 2012 I started with a vague sense of a sort of idea and the novel that came out was completely different, but I think it was my best work to date and I love that. All you need to remember is that if NaNoWriMo is providing the pressure that it takes you to work, it's doing something right. 

Saying that, sometimes you need to remember that not making 50'000 words does not make you a failure. In 2009, I wrote 22'000 words. It was the most I had ever written on one idea, it was the shortest time I had taken to write anything, but I was blinded by these neon lights someone installed into my brain telling me I had failed. I kicked myself for the whole year until I had another chance. Last year, I finished NaNo in 20 days, but not having a day where I wrote 10'000 words left me kicking myself once more. I wrote between 6-8k and it still wasn't enough. If you are like me in that you see the failures more than you see the achievements, please do something for me when crossing the finish line. Don't look at the buddies charts, don't look at the graph showing how you measure up to your original goal - instead cast your eyes to the top of the website and look at your word count. 

What your word count is, what it stands for, is all the work you have put in during November, when the world has been throwing homework, colds, kids, jobs, life, trees in your path right in the way. It stands for all the things you have fought against to get what you have there and what you didn't have before November. No matter what November brings, if you take on the NaNo beast you definitely deserve a medal and a cup of tea at the end. 

So get your freezer stocked with pizza, pack up your biscuit tin with goodies, hang the do not disturb sign, stretch your fingers and finally, put the kettle on. 

NaNoWriMo is one of the only marathons where you don't have balloons and crowds cheering you on by the side lines. Six and a half hours to go Europe. London, are you ready? Manchester, are you ready? Everybody else, are you ready? 

COME ON YOU WRIMOS!! 

As a side note, if you're not a participant and you happen to see a writer huddled over their laptop in the corner of the room, get them a pack of biscuits; they'll appreciate it. Well, they will after November.

From October,

I do realise that's been almost an entire month since I've posted anything on here and for that, you all have my apologies. I've been having some pretty awesome adventures, been spending some quality time with the loved ones and have also encountered a couple of health problems, but I'm now on the mend, and just in time, as NaNoWriMo2013 starts at midnight tonight. Are you excited? 

I KNOW I AM!! 

I'm also petrified. For those of you who don't remember, I was a stroppy little sod last year after not achieving my favourite 'I have no life' goal of completing a 10k day. It is quite literally as the name suggests, a day where you write 10,000 words. I took three days off last year and finished on the 20th of November - definitely an 'I have no life outside of NaNo' achievement, but I couldn't quite feel satisfied. This year my goal is to have that 10k day. Maybe even have two, one for this year and one to heal my wounded pride from last year....I'm kidding. I think....

I've already had one of those nutty 'OHMYGOD IT'S NEARLY NANO; IMMA DIE!' moments yesterday, so it's probably a good thing that my housemates are in Portsmouth and there's possibly a strike of our uni lecturers, because I don't cope with people very well the day NaNo starts and I get the same sort of look as a piece of flat pack furniture with no instructions. (The best description of it is, I don't know what it is, and I have less idea of what to do with it. That kind of a face.)

On the plus side, I have an idea, a vague form of a plan, and a freezer drawer full of homemade ready meals, so that I don't just resort to pizza and coffee. I am also, because of my recent health blip, required to eat at least once a day so I can take my medication. It also requires me to consume vast amounts of orange juice, so maybe I won't end up with too dreadful of a NaNoFlu this year - trust me, it's a thing - but then again, who can know what November will bring? 

I have two gigs planned, can hopefully throw in a trip back home to see Jamie, Dean and their lovely cohort of Manchester WriMos, a rugby game this weekend (no, I'm not playing, look at the size of me for Pete's sake. :')) lectures, assignments, my family, my friends, my job, my amazing boyfriend :), and the general things of life like cooking, cleaning and the wonders of the ASDA weekly shop. There's Christmas shopping, sending Christmas cards and all manner of stupid things to think about, but they can wait, because it's coming, it's starting. 

REAL LIFE ENDS TONIGHT, 

Welcome to NaNoWriMo2013

Welcome Back to the World,

I got back from Greece on Sunday to something amazing. 

God knows I have complained enough times about the state of my laptop - teetering on the edge of existence ready to fall off. I'm not sure if I actually informed you all that a week before I went away, it fell rather violently. The hard drive stopped playing dead and instead was dying rather rapidly, and there was seemingly nothing I could do about it. Admittedly, that is partly because I'm not an IT genius, but thankfully, I know someone who is. :)  

Not only did he stop the hard drive dying before the only existing copy of the novel I was trying to write to NaNo targets was destroyed - it was the only thing which wasn't on the back up drive, since I forgot to turn the computer on to do it's scheduled back up - he also got me a new hard drive that will probably outlive the rest of the laptop by a couple of years, which is pretty awesome. 

Not only does this mean the Craptop is back in action; it also means that it's not acting like a craptop. It's running faster, it hasn't crashed since Sunday and it almost looks prettier, too. Probably because I'm not directing my hatred at it anymore.

Admittedly, this means I no longer have the excuse of "the Craptop" as to why I'm not getting things done towards publishing the next novel, but I have the excuse of uni has started up again and I'm in lectures for a while SIX HOURS A WEEK (that was sarcasm by the way, but uni does take up more time than just the lectures) and I also have a new job, which will be keeping me pretty busy. 

It is however, only 27 days until my favourite day of the year - the wonderful launch day of National Novel Writing Month - and as usual, nothing will get in my way of celebrating that joyous event, so at some point during the time between now and then, Yours, needs to be edited and emailed to the two lovely people who have agreed to read it, and tell me how much they either love or hate it. It's a pretty scary moment when that happens. After that, it's ready to go into print and a touch of reformatting will make it ready for being an e-book.

Greece 2013.2,

This is just getting written as and when I have time, and when we're somewhere that we can get wifi, which is usually some sort of pool or beach bar, or the tavernas where we're having our dinner. As such, the chronology has already gone out of the window. 

Thing is, I get over excited and want to include things, or I'll only remember things when I've already finished writing something about that day, so from here on out accept that it will be a jumbled mash up of all the days. 

As with most places in Greece, there are cats running around everywhere, because most of them are strays which are fed at the restaurants by tourists with leftovers. There is a lovely one who obviously thinks of the apartments we are in as his territory, and I've given him the nickname of George, because he's a curious little bugger. 

On the day that we arrived, he jumped onto my balcony and stood outside the screen like he was waiting to be let in. He's beautiful, and I'll be uploading a photo of him to the Facebook page just as soon as I get home. He has this wonderful habit of getting under my feet when I'm trying to get in the front door, this morning he was purring outside of it because I got up late and yesterday, when I was leaving the apartment with lots of things in my hands, he ran around the door before I could shut it, but he didn't try to jump onto my bed. Instead he just wandered around under it and was very well behaved. After the wild life that got into my dad's bed, I'm tempted to let him stay, although I'm not sure that even George loves me enough to protect me from something like that!

I've heard of horror movie titles like It Came From Under the Sink and stupid things like that, but this was It Came From the End of My Bed and Bit Me on the Ass. Okay, Dad says leg, but only just. 

Bugs in Greece tend to be a lot bigger than those back home, and I know exactly what this thing was, but quite frankly I do not need to see the photo of it before it went down the toilet. Besides, with my imagination the description of it as a six inch long centipede with a mouth at both ends is quite enough to stop me sleeping thank you! Thankfully we spent today on the beach, and I'm pretty sure I probably fell asleep on my sun bed at least one. 

There's a little beach about ten minutes walk from Stoupa Town Beach called Kalogria Beach. It's really beautiful and is fed by spring water from the mountains, which is really cold. There's also, on the very right hand side of the beach, a lovely plunge pool, that is colder than a witch's tit. I managed to get in up to just above my waist before deciding that was plenty enough for me, but it does make the sea feel a few degrees warmer afterwards which is a welcome reward from such an endeavour. The water around these parts is so clear as well that you can see right to the bottom even when it's more than a few feet deep. Nothing like Blackpool at all. :)

This is what I mean about the chronology being screwed - I'm jumping back a day now to tell you about the ancient city site of Messini which lies in a bowl valley under Mount Ithomi.

Ancient Messini is the biggest archeological site in Greece and I believe it is the longest running which is still currently being dug. After 25 years they have uncovered a Roman villa, a theatre, the baths, a stadium and a gymnasium. And you can walk around all of it. If you're a student in the EU it is free, if you're a non-EU student, under 18 or over 65 the price is 3euros and everyone else is 5euros. It's really not much to be able to go in and see all that they've unearthed. It's really worth a look if you're in the area. :P Admittedly our tour guide was more than a touch irritating. 

Anyway, I'm having my once a year foodie festival. Mediterranean food is definitely my favourite. 

Kalinicht guys,

Greece 2013,

For this to make the kind of sense that it should, I ned to explain a little something.

There are certain things in life that I just don't deal with. It's not that I don't deal with them well, or don't deal with them gracefully or anything like that, I just don't function like a person when they happen. Keep this in mind while reading:

I have a slightly more emphasised version of arachnophobia than some people insofar as I get the creeps at any word to describe them and anything which is generally in the insect category. I also - and I accept that this one is weird because I used to do indoor climbing and have also done some outdoor climbing - don't do well with heights, especially not the cliff drops next to certain roads in Greece. This year we're staying in a little resort in the Peloponnese mountains...

After eventually managing to get the Gatwick Express trains to, believe it or not, London Gatwick, we stayed the night in the Marriott Courtyard Hotel. Except for the exceptionally rude reception woman who checked us in and the rather irritating lack of signal, it was a pretty good hotel, but waking up anywhere at six o'clock in the morning is never going to make me happy - there again, it was necessary to get the plane over to Kalamata airport. We took off at 9:15 and somehow managed to get onto the Greek Tarmac early, and thankfully Kalamata isn't one of those island airports in Greece where space is limited and you look like you're going for your first swim much earlier than planned. You do still have to come at the runway over the sea though. For a little while, it looked like we were going to land in some poor farmers field. 

You'd think that landing early would be great, because it means that the coach transfer can go earlier and then you can settle into your apartment quicker and maybe get out into the afternoon... yeah, that didn't happen. Unfortunately, someone's bag had been damaged in transit, so we had to wait while the rep from our tour operator went and had some big discussion with the Greek baggage handlers BUT the plane was only about half full, meaning the hold could have only been about half full and they always warn you that things can move around and such in the overhead bins, so surely it was more to do with the flight than the... oh, never mind, we got going in the end. 

So, as I mentioned, Peloponnese MOUNTAINS. Shit, right? If you've never seen a Greek road then you probably can't comprehend the sheer terror involved with being in an old coach, with a bat shit mental Greek driver while you're going up roads and around corners which 30, 60 maybe even 100+ foot drops RIGHT NEXT TO THEM!!!! Most of the time, while the rep was encouraging us to look out of the window at the absolutely beautiful (this is his favourite saying by the way) views just to the left or the right of the coach, I had my head buried in a hoodie waiting for it to be over. 

As you can tell, I survived, even though certain roads made it look like we wouldn't. 

This is also not going to make much sense if you have never been to a small Greek village, but the best way I can explain it is this. The Greek definition of a super market that we're used to is less of a Sainsbury's Local and more a very small corner shop the day before they get a delivery. Generally, there's not much choice and if you recognise a brand then it's going to be astronomically expensive and you find yourself running for the hills (quite literally in a way, because most settlements in such places are found on the hills, because of strategic positioning and spring water). What we have this year is basically like the old Woolworth's!!! 

I'm being deadly serious when I say we were like kids in a candy store. There was almost too much of a choice, but I guess that is a really good thing. I even got some Nutella to put on toast in the mornings!! (As a side note to all Nutella fans: because the room temperature is generally so much higher here, that beloved chocolatey spread actually spreads without having to sit it in hot water first. It's quite literally, get out of bed, retrieve bed and spread... :D) 

Monday morning was then spent trying to find the welcome meeting, the over friendly welcome meeting with Stuart - the ex army chef for twenty five years but this is my first year as a rep, and my first year with this company any my first year in Stoupa and say something relevant because they all look bored JAZZ HANDS - and then a general suss out of where everything was, but dinner was something else. 

I think most people know that it takes a lot to make me a foodie, and I mean a lot. I very often cook a shed load of food, but then find that my appetite is nowhere near enough to actually eat it, but here that has changed. (Well, marginally. I want pretty much everything off the vegetarian menu, but having a starter and a main course makes me the kind of sleepy stuffed that is only really acceptable at Christmas or Thanksgiving.) 

My favourite Greek dish - aside from the Quorn versions of things which my mum makes at home - is something so simple it is most often overlooked. They call it cheese pies, they're actually pasties and the Dionysus restaurant in Stoupa does the best ones I've ever tasted. They also do that fantastic thing of giving you bread with the meal, and it's still warm from where they have only just got it out of the oven. My gosh, it's wonderful. 

Anyway, stay tuned for more, because I'm here all week,...

Lots of Swear Words,

I'm a grumpy sort of person anyway, but when I have to be a rain soaked grumpy person and the rain soaks through to my pants, you're really going to know I'm in a bad mood. 

Anyway, we went to watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show at Kew Gardens as part of the summer screenings and if nothing else it came as a confirmation that summer is most definitely over. It was cold and wet and rainy, so the only time I felt like I had any life in my limbs was when the Time Warp came on - I could be on my death bed and I would still get up and jump to the left. We were all in agreement that had the ticket prices not been so expensive we would have just gone and got on the next bus home, but after paying nearly £17 excluding the booking fee, we all took the British approach and just got on with it. Thankfully the girls and I had pizza and the heating to come home to. 

As if that wasn't great enough, the Craptop is once again playing Knock-a-Door-Run on death's door and thinking it can win, when it so clearly can't. I know it's four years old, but the hard drive being knackered is about the last thing I need right now!! Thankfully though there are almost an infinite amount of tech savvy people in the world who know far better than me how to fix these things, and one of them in particular likes me enough to help - even though I turn into an insufferable B1tch when this sort of thing happens. 

Despite best efforts, I have unfortunately lost some of the novel I was working on, though due to my worst efforts towards a NaNo style deadline in the past four years, it thankfully wasn't that much and there are still roughly 5600 words to work from, which is pretty good. 

Anyway, I'm apparently having a social life tonight, so I guess I better sign off and get back to writing, although even I admit that my original deadline is making very pretty circles in the toilet bowl right now... 

5053~

I could have given myself more time to write today, but I didn't need to as far as goals were concerned, and I did have a lot of other fun things to do. In our usual style, my house mate and I managed to continue our breakfast conversation until lunch, even with the arrival of the new paint - because adding bubble wrap just made it more fun! 

It's been a busy day and I'm finally starting to feel better from my chest infection, which can only be a good thing, surely. 

After a wonderful day of painting and cleaning, you can imagine it was tempting to vegetate on the sofa with Stevie and Grand Designs, but instead I went out on a date :) to see Kick Ass 2 - before you judge, I chose the movie and I loved it. 

 After that, we went to Zizzi for dinner. Seriously, it was a lovely evening. 

And I even had time to get to 53 words above my goal the for the day. Let's see how tomorrow goes.

~

2617~

For those of you who don't follow me on Twitter (@CharliesWrite), I decided on the 9th September to start my own little thirty days of writing, using the word count targets which are set in NaNo. 

It works out at 1667 words a day, and while I managed Day 1, Day 2 has been a bit of a flop. 2617/3334 words is still 2617 words, but falling behind in the early stages never bodes well for a participants prospects of finishing. The first few days should have a heavy momentum - but if that lapses by the middle, that's okay, because it's pretty normal. 

Also, it seems that there are just millions of things to do at the moment. Today, my house mate and I tripped to Asda - we wanted to get paint, but they didn't have the colours we wanted - cooked twice, washed the curtains in our new house mate's room and started to touch up the painting with the paint we did have before ordering new. I even went to work in the evening. 

Even still, a packed day doesn't have to mean no time for writing. I have this amazing habit of writing whilst on buses or generally when I'm out an about, either on the notes section of my phone or in an email and then I can just send it all back to myself and paste it in. In a way it's like I never left the house. Anyway, before I need an almighty ass kicking, I'm going to hop to and get some work done this evening as tomorrow looks as though it will be equally fun packed!! 

~

Just a General Blog,

Hello and welcome to the wonderful world of chest infections. On this ride you will see a week of coughing, spluttering, and difficulty breathing. For your discomfort there's added pain and congestion. < At least an introduction like that would give you far warning, but I've done this before, so I already know what's involved. 

Oh yes, it's that time again where I have a week of vegetating on the sofa/my bed, the emergency appointment at the doctors' surgery where I'm told that it's "not that bad" and it's almost seen as them doing me a favour handing me a prescription for antibiotics, when I have to pay £7.85 for the privilege of being well, not being able to drink for a week and being reminded every time that if I'm using oral contraceptives that I need to be careful during that week, as antibiotics can affect the pill. I would really love to know why the bloody hell that can happen, but I don't care enough about the answer to ask. I love how it's seen as "not that bad" when my breathing is noticeably laboured at the moment and I have a pain right under my sternum, but I guess that in the grand scheme of illnesses, things could be worse. 

Anyway, I slightly feel like these blogs are somewhat like that game you see American kids play in movies and TV programmes when they're in school - show and tell!! 

I'm finally no longer the only resident of my house, because one of my lovely house mates returned a couple of days ago prompting a miniature movie marathon yesterday - it was two films: The Blair Witch Project and Chocolat. (I'm not reviewing either of them currently, by the way)

I love Chocolat because Johnny Depp seems like a normal human being in it, and I like The Blair Witch Project because nothing actually pops out at the screen to scare you - it's all in your head. I prefer eerie to gory when all comes to all. 

As for everything else, well Yours, is still on hold (the coma is a part of the title by the way) whilst I get another edit done and also ask someone else to look over it, I'm possibly working on the sequel to Fairies - maybe, you'll have to wait to find out - and I'm looking forward to NaNoWriMo2013. After finishing Yours, in 20 days last year it would be really nice to see what this year can bring around - and I'd also like to see if I can finally have another 10K Day. It'll have been a Long Time Waiting. 

Best get back to work, but listen to the song. It's pretty beautiful. 

The Cider House Rules

I'm actually shaking at the moment, because I'm on either my second or third coffee of the day - I'm not sure which, but I think third, and I'm only really used to having one. Getting to sleep 
tonight could be an interesting experience....

Anyway, even though I haven't written one in a few weeks, I'm going to go back to the Netflix fuelled film review blogs, because I think you can tell a lot about a person by their opinions and the way that they react to things, and I quite enjoy looking at that on other people, so I think it's only fair to make the opportunity available to others. 

So there's this film called The Cider House Rules that is about a boy who grows up in an orphanage, because he just doesn't fit with the families he's placed with. As he grows, the doctor who is in charge begins to train him as a doctor for women who are either about to give birth, or who are arriving at the centre so that an abortion can be performed, even though abortions were illegal in America (or at least in that state - the film doesn't exactly make it clear and I'm not sure on the history of it) at the time. 

As much as it is very possible to sit there and just watch the film, and accept that it is there solely for the purpose of entertaining or educating, if you let it, any piece of art, cinema, music or writing can make you think. I say, balls to curiosity killed the cat - blind acceptance kills meaningful conversation!!!  

The most obvious debate available because of the film is that of whether or not abortion should be legal. Even in the days where I was a pretty loud and angry atheist, it was something I wouldn't have been able to consider, but then again, I accept that when we create a law which is against it, it's not beneficial to people - mainly women. In every age, there have been myths of how not to get pregnant or ways to get rid of the foetus and some of them are down right brutal and not just to the infant. Women have died because of the injuries caused to their bodies or because of the infections which occur because of improperly sterilised implements or environments. I'm not saying that it's morally correct, but I think I would prefer their to be a legally regulated system as opposed to back street abortion clinics that become responsible for the deaths of young women as well as their potential children. 

If you look at the film again though, you can sort of see it as a coming of age drama where the main character has no other option than to take another look at his morals and see that sometimes you have to do things that you don't necessarily agree with for the greater good. To help a young woman he befriends, he performs an abortion, because he has the ability to help her and feels compelled to use it, even though he's not comfortable with it. Having grown up in the orphanage, there was no money for him to attend college or medical school, but after shadowing the doctor who is responsible for where he grew up, he has pretty much the exact training. He is the person who is needed to replace the doctor, so even though it involves lies and forgery to "prove" his ability to practice medicine, he sees where he is needed and reacts. 

If it's not obvious, I do love the film, but I was contemplating it for hours afterwards as to whether or not that was something I could do. 

For so long, he rejects the idea of being a doctor, of returning to the place he grew up and providing help for young women in trouble, but in the end he accepts that the gift which has been given to him - this medical training which enables him to help women and prevent them from harming themselves - is more important than his own selfish wants. It sort of reminds me of The Cross and The Switchblade - a fantastic book about Pentecostal preacher who brings religion back to New York City, to the children in gangs, to the girls who hang around the gangs to be used as nothing more than warm sex dolls and to the heroin users. He is pretty much dragged kicking and screaming to what he eventually feels is his destiny, much like I see the main character. 

Anyway, Goodnight you Princes of Maine, you Kings of New England.

Beauty is a Beast

There is an obsession session with beauty which everyone seems to have these days and it makes for a complicated life.

A lot of people I know can't Actually cope without having false nails on all the time, but it looks to me like it makes life a lot more difficult. Anyway, bearing in mind that we have no concrete evidence to support the theory of reincarnation, I figure you should accept that you only live once and this week I am giving it a try. It's already proving difficult...

Running With It,

I'm starting to wonder if running in the mornings is detrimental to everything else I do in day, because it seems as though I'm so knackered that all I want to do is crash on the sofa watching television for the rest of the day. It's gruesome, because I spend only half an hour running and then it becomes something which takes up my entire day. I'm glad that I only go running once every two days, or I would get nothing done. 

I've just had a look over the old blogs, because I knew that when I had got through formatting the latest novel, I had put down a provisional date (two, in fact) as to when it would be released, the first of which was going to be on the two year anniversary of the CharliesWrite blog (7.3.13) the second being my 20th birthday (19.3.13) neither of which actually happened - obviously. Anyway, for those of you not connected on Twitter (@charlieswrite) or Facebook (search: Charlie Yarwood Author) I'm now not working to any sort of provisional dates, BUT the initial formatting is now done and so is the first edit where most of the problems have been ironed out. All that needs to happen now is a little bit of moving words around and then a proof read and then it will be arriving onto the Kindle AND Amazon.com AND Amazon.co.uk (+++all of the European Amazon sites!!) Everything is designed and ready to go when the content is ready! 

Anyway, I'm going to make myself another mug of tea and start work on something different, because I would rather avoid having a typo on the front page of the first edition this time, because that would upset me...

The Lone Ranger,

I meant to write this the day after seeing the preview, but things happen, don't they and I was editing a novel, so with my mind a little fugged with cava, I'm going to write it now. 

Apparently the critic reviews from this film haven't been amazing, but personally I don't understand that one bit!

Johnny Depp is, in my humble opinion, a phenomenal actor and I love the range which he has. Admittedly, the character whom he plays in The Lone Ranger is Jack Sparrow kind of crazy - he keeps trying to give bird seed to a long dead bird after all - he still plays the role in a different way. 

There is nothing serious about the film. It's exactly what it looks like - Pirates of the Caribbean do a Western - but it is hilarious. I genuinely don't think I have laughed so much at a film in a long time, and some of the detailing is just amazing. I was watching it thinking that the music and sound effects were pretty immaculate. 

The clever planning of some sections reminded me of the first (recent) Sherlock Holmes movie - the one before Game of Shadows which I still need to watch again as I slept through it... It's almost as though, you think you have it all worked out, but then you see something different and it all changes again. 

I was impressed with Helena Bonham Carter, and I think I prefer her in this to Sweeney Todd since, even though she is still that strong, quirky female character that she just can't help but be, there is definitely something stronger and less dependent about her and it just amazes me.

If you enjoyed the Pirates of the Caribbean, there is no way that you could hate it. In fact, the only way you could is if you take Westerns - and life - far too seriously. It's jovial, it's well put together and it's something I could easily go and see again without getting bored.


There is also a great moment where you can make a crude joke about the main character being able to find a cat in a whore house, but I'll leave that one to you guys to figure out...

The Freedom Writers,

Sometimes, you have to be really careful what you wish for...

After turning the TV off in aid of getting some writing done for the first time in God only bloody knows how long, I realised that I can be just as easily, if not more so, distracted by other things on the internet. The obvious thought is to wish there was a way in which to disable the internet to all other websites except Blogspot, to give me the way to make myself focus. Well, seconds later the internet went down completely, for no apparent reason. Obviously, if I have posted this then normal service has resumed, but for now, let's work offline.

After quitting my full time job, I suddenly have all this time to play with – it's kind of scary. The preference would be to get another part time job alongside my current one, and get some writing done in between, but what has actually happened has been:

*I took up running, and now go every second morning, or every morning when I can convince myself to get out of bed,

*I've rekindled my love for knitting – sad I know, but it's actually pretty calming and stops me biting my nails,

and *I've been watching far too many films, and a lot of them I have seen before. The thing is, I'm not a fan of uncertainty. If I don't know much about a film, ypu can bet your ass you'll have a hard time convincing me to watch it, as most of my friends already know.

After the failure of the blog/novel thing, which failed mainly because I write in fits and starts as opposed to short well timed bursts, the intention going forward is just to get into the habit of sitting down with Craptop and getting something written. Admittedly, film reviews aren't the most creative thing, but it's about the discipline of sitting and putting pen to paper or hands to keys.

Anyway, I'm going to start with Freedom Writers.

Freedom Writers is a documentary film about a young teacher and her first group of students. It's set in a place called Long Beach in America and follows the troubles an problems caused by America introducing integration into their schools. Looking back on it from now, we see all the reasons why it was done, but seeing this film and the way the pupils interact with each other at first, it's easy to understand why many were resistant to the idea, even after it had been enforced.

I admit that I am always going to have a bias towards this film, because it shows how the teacher uses writing as a way to get the kids to open up, to her and to each other. Using novels such as Anne Frank's Diary she brings them together and shows them what is happening in their lives within a wider context. At the beginning, most of these kids had never heard about the Holocaust, they are members of gangs, and almost every member of the class has been shot at, and has lost a friend because of gang violence.

Within a broader field, Freedom Writers can be used to help us question our education system, because of the purpose which it is meant to serve and the way I'm which it works. It questions whether we really force people to stay in school for the sake of them getting an education, or if it just becomes a holding room for them until they reach an age where we can do something else with them, such as put them into a job or throw them into jail. It asks what we are teaching people – are we actually giving people anything which helps them in their lives. Personally, I can't remember the last time I analysed a poem or used Pythagoras' Theorem, and when it comes to things like loans and bills and such, I only have a vague idea of what APR is and what it means for me, and I can't budget to save my life. Surely, even from a young age, these are the skills we ought to be instilling into people, not necessarily in place of the theories currently being taught, but maybe alongside of?

I will admit though, my favourite line of the whole film comes from a discussion between the teacher and two pupils. One student is explaining to the other how impressed he was by Anne Frank's Diary, so much so that he got a few more books from the library, about the lady who hid the Frank family. Of course, this provokes the question - “You used your library card?” a bright smile on the teacher's face until the student answers … “Nah.”

The diaries of the Freedom Writers were published as one book in 1999, and they helped to change the education system in America, after spending 4 years with the teacher who brought them together. She also moved to a new position within a college where some of them chose to attend.

The film shows one woman's heart felt determination to make a difference, and how much of a change she really caused in the lives of the teenagers. It's inspiring, because it can be seen as such a small drop in the ocean – it was one class, in one school, in one city in America, and it didn't change the situation these teens were living, not really – but they knew someone cared, and they knew they had a voice. The Freedom Writers class was a start, and it moved onto something bigger. Kids that wouldn't have graduated became the first in their family to finish high school, and as I mentioned, some even went to college. That's massive.

The fact that it's a true story – okay, maybe parts of it have been changed for dramatic/cinematic effect or whatever – but the fact that it came from a true story of what one person actually did makes me happy every time I watch it, because nothing could stand in her way.

Also, having Doctor Dreamy from Grey's Anatomy kind of helps. Every film needs some eye candy...