Generally, if someone asks me where something in my room is, the answer is preceded by a lengthy erm, and normally sounds something like, I last saw it on the floor near the... Currently that is not the case, and no, it's not because I have started believing in all that tidy room tidy mind ----stuff (really trying not to swear at the moment and it's really difficult!!) that other people spout. No, it's because I am moving out of my current abode into somewhere new, in another different part of London.
As much as it's really exciting, but also really stressful because of the actual physical transportation from House A to Flat B, what I find more frustrating is that because the majority of my stuff has already been boxed by a slightly over-enthusiastic Ben and myself yesterday, I keep thinking oh, I could do... oh, no I can't, it's in a box, or I could wear, ... no, also in a box. It's only those times where you can't get to them, such as when you're moving or on holiday that you think of those really obscure pieces of clothing that live at the back of your wardrobe on any normal occasion and you think, yeah, that's what would make me the happiest person I can be right now. I think my brain actually like me being like, well, that sucks.
Another fantastic example of this is thinking about novel notebooks that I haven't touched for so long that they required dusting before packing - and yes, there is a point to that, and it's so you don't transport the old dust to your new place der, I am not the weird one here -.- - and they're now in the bottom of a big box, which is at the bottom of a big pile and behind a stack of other, let's call it what it is, crap (and no, that is NOT a swear word, just FYI) so of course my brain now goes, here are all the wonderfully magical things we could do with this... And I end up being like, Dear Brain, Hold your horses, Chill your bean and Keep you ----socks together for just a week and then we will make all of these magical dreams come novelliciously true, but I already know that is not going to happen, because using the words Calm down to my imagination is like telling me Don't stress, and if you want to know how pointless that is, speak to my boyfriend, because he really knows. Yeah, if my brain and I had a contract, I would be seriously trying to renegotiate it's concept of when it's acceptable to be thinking about novels, because this flexitime nonsense that it has going on at the moment is just not really working for me. I genuinely worry that I will be in work at some point, someone will tell me about some vicious ailment they have and I'm going to spout some glittery garbage about how I'm dispatching the unicorns to fix it. As much as it would probably be amusing for a few minutes, I'm pretty sure that I would end up some combination between sectioned and fired, and none of those look too pretty from where I am sitting.
So, I have a to do list longer than any piece of string, and it seems to casually keep getting bigger, I have two Orchids to attempt to move without inducing plant-y panic attacks, and my very antique typewriter is currently in quite a lot of bits across my coffee table, which if you follow me on Twitter, you will have seen. As much as the many parts are now a severe amount cleaner than they were when he was all together, he's not quite as easy to put back together as I thought/hoped, though I'm pretty sure that I have it in theory now, it's just the actual practical getting all the screws back in the right place, but I've felt that way about driving for a while - as in, I'm well aware how to do it, it's just actually getting my brain to stop going ARGGGGGGH, I DON'T LIKE THIS!!! WE'RE BEHAVING LIKE TOO MUCH OF AN ADULT!! MAKE IT STOP!!! and to actually engage with the task at hand, aka not crashing, is a "little bit" more difficult than I have ever hoped for.
Basically, the upshot of all of that is that the novel that was meant to be edited by the end of last year might end up getting put off until the end of this year... I don't know. It'll happen when it happens, and I'm far too comfortable with that fact quite frankly. It also means that I'm probably not going to be posting blogs as often as I would like, and I am attempting quite loosely to aim at once a week this year, and if I could set aside an hour, of one day every week then I would be like 'here's the day I will attempt to publish it on' but considering how chaotic just everything is, I don't really think there is much point. But, the good thing is that the a forenamed 'computer which potentially works' ought to now be known as 'Zeus' because he's fast as lightening, has a funny symbol on the front that looks like Zeus' headdress and also because he is basically the God of all my writing machinery, so might as well be named such, so when he and I move into our new place, we have no worries of major technically hiccups getting in the way of dissertationing, blogging or general wordsmithy, so that is a major plus.
So, essentially, follow the yellow brick twitter page....
15 Jan 2015
And After Less Than Two Hours of Not Being Connected to the Internet, Charlie Lost a Little Bit More of Her Mind,
If I'm not careful, the titles for these are going to end up being longer than the posts...
Anyway, before my power line adaptors forgot what their role in life is, I was going to call this post Just Because You Have a Voice Box, Doesn't Mean Your Voice Has To Stay In It's Box. As an ex-Northerner, I'm a little bit 'over friendly' for London, and it scares some Southerners shitless - I'm not even kidding. Talking on the Tube is pretty much banned unless you are reasonably intimately acquainted with the person that you're having the conversation with. Anyone, well, anyone Northern would think you were discussing the contents of your knicker drawer if they saw the look on some people's faces.
Point is, as often happens, I struck up a lovely conversation with someone, from something which many would see as insignificant - A typewriter on a notebook. Now, going past the philosophical garbage that we could spout in relation to The Fault in Our Stars, and how the typewriter was not a real typewriter... Basically we got talking about typewriters, novelly things, NaNoWriMo and the busy-ness of London living, though not necessarily in that order. It kind of got me thinking that people don't really connect enough.
So here is what I mean by that:
I don't mean that we don't have enough of a connection to the people we meet, because I know a lot of people who will add you on Facebook because you happened to go to the same university, at the same time, even though you have probably NEVER and probably WILL NEVER actually come across that person and have anything like a meaningful conversation!!!! (I was trying not to rant, honestly, it just didn't work) however there are other people whose lives we sort of merrily skip in and out of very quickly without thinking bugger social convention, I'm going to give this person a conversational cuddle, and also, if they ask for my advice or ask me a question about something I possibly know something about, I'm going to answer it, instead of just being an ignorant mug and attempting to be an island from everyone that I don't already know. If that is you, you're attitude stinks - no offence. Okay, maybe a little offence.
The fact is, we all have things that we are the absolute tits at, and other things which make us look and feel like an absolute tit, and whilst we could sit and have a moan about how that sucks and we wish we could be better at whatever it is that makes us look like a giant tit, we could be slightly pro-active and find someone to help us get better - EVEN IF THAT PERSON IS OUTSIDE OF OUR LITTLE SOCIAL CIRCLE - or accept that we suck at it, but we're awesome at something else, and celebrate our own awesome alongside other people's awesome. Like drinking great champagne to celebrate something, and also celebrating that the people that made said champagne really knew how to bottle the stars.
I've always wanted everything I write to fit together in a straight sort of way, almost like checking back in with some of the older characters later on in their life, but also to see that the world is not actually as big as we think it is - I ran into my cousin in Kings Cross once when I didn't even know she was in London for God's sake! - so rather than making our own world's smaller with this idea that the world is too big for us to do something amazing in it, just have a conversation with someone else and maybe make their day a bit better, if someone says they're struggling with something you can do, just help them. This world can be bad enough on it's own.
Anyway, before my power line adaptors forgot what their role in life is, I was going to call this post Just Because You Have a Voice Box, Doesn't Mean Your Voice Has To Stay In It's Box. As an ex-Northerner, I'm a little bit 'over friendly' for London, and it scares some Southerners shitless - I'm not even kidding. Talking on the Tube is pretty much banned unless you are reasonably intimately acquainted with the person that you're having the conversation with. Anyone, well, anyone Northern would think you were discussing the contents of your knicker drawer if they saw the look on some people's faces.
Point is, as often happens, I struck up a lovely conversation with someone, from something which many would see as insignificant - A typewriter on a notebook. Now, going past the philosophical garbage that we could spout in relation to The Fault in Our Stars, and how the typewriter was not a real typewriter... Basically we got talking about typewriters, novelly things, NaNoWriMo and the busy-ness of London living, though not necessarily in that order. It kind of got me thinking that people don't really connect enough.
So here is what I mean by that:
I don't mean that we don't have enough of a connection to the people we meet, because I know a lot of people who will add you on Facebook because you happened to go to the same university, at the same time, even though you have probably NEVER and probably WILL NEVER actually come across that person and have anything like a meaningful conversation!!!! (I was trying not to rant, honestly, it just didn't work) however there are other people whose lives we sort of merrily skip in and out of very quickly without thinking bugger social convention, I'm going to give this person a conversational cuddle, and also, if they ask for my advice or ask me a question about something I possibly know something about, I'm going to answer it, instead of just being an ignorant mug and attempting to be an island from everyone that I don't already know. If that is you, you're attitude stinks - no offence. Okay, maybe a little offence.
The fact is, we all have things that we are the absolute tits at, and other things which make us look and feel like an absolute tit, and whilst we could sit and have a moan about how that sucks and we wish we could be better at whatever it is that makes us look like a giant tit, we could be slightly pro-active and find someone to help us get better - EVEN IF THAT PERSON IS OUTSIDE OF OUR LITTLE SOCIAL CIRCLE - or accept that we suck at it, but we're awesome at something else, and celebrate our own awesome alongside other people's awesome. Like drinking great champagne to celebrate something, and also celebrating that the people that made said champagne really knew how to bottle the stars.
I've always wanted everything I write to fit together in a straight sort of way, almost like checking back in with some of the older characters later on in their life, but also to see that the world is not actually as big as we think it is - I ran into my cousin in Kings Cross once when I didn't even know she was in London for God's sake! - so rather than making our own world's smaller with this idea that the world is too big for us to do something amazing in it, just have a conversation with someone else and maybe make their day a bit better, if someone says they're struggling with something you can do, just help them. This world can be bad enough on it's own.
12 Jan 2015
Wonderfully Inconvenient Sleeping Issues,
So, maybe it's connected to the same thing as my brain earthquakes (otherwise known as headaches and migraines, but I've always enjoyed a slight flare of the dramatic) and too much time exposed to computers, tablets, iPhones etc is causing my sleeping pattern to be really out of whack with my life, or maybe it really was the perfect life that summer I spent sleeping from 2am to 10am then being briskly effective for most of the day, but something is causing my body clock to be on a different time zone to my lifestyle. Tomorrow morning, well, this morning I guess, I have to be up at 7 and then play a game of hunt down the office, since I don't know whether we have successfully moved building or not over the weekend, and yet it's five past midnight and I'm waiting for the tiredness to kick in.
It's not even like I haven't had a busy day, I've been working on my dissertation and that's quite the brain ache. I've even been outside and had a brisk walk in the fresh air, which was absolutely marvellous, but still, not tired. Okay, getting a little bit tired now, but only just....
Anyway, back to the ranting and raving (and not about Papa Johns) - I feel really restricted at the moment with what I can actually do with my time and it's rather frustrating, because it's not like there isn't a million and one things I would actually like to be able to do!
For example, I really wish that my GoodReads 2015 Book Challenge goal was something more than 10 books for this year, but I'm trying to be realistic. The likelyhood of my actually getting through 10 books that aren't philosophy and ethics related is propably also quite low, but if you don't aim, you shoot your own toes off and that is never going to end too well. I also would love to partcipate in the fantastic nerd along knitting that's been running for the past two years, in amongst all the finish writing x,y and z novels and edit a whole bunch of stuff, too, but alas, the dissertation and third year essays must come first, so that I can walk out of university in May and draw a massive, thick, Sharpie black ruler straight line under the whole thing, and find a new direction to head in that doesn't bore me to the point that I REALLY wish I could sleep because I've had four Goddam years of this now!!!! But annnnnnyyyway Yeah, basically, there are plenty of other things I want to be able to do, but until the end of May, I can kiss goodbye to any hope of actually having the time to commit to any of it.
More than anything, it's frustrating, and frustration is not a fun or easy emotion to deal with, especially when I really can't be bothered to go to the gym because I'm just being so lazy. I keep reading signs that say new year, new you and I just have a good little inward chuckle because I know that the rehanging of a new calendar with slightly different numbers makes absolutely no odds to me really, so as much as there were some pretty fireworks and a day off to avoid the majority of the country going into work with a raging hang over, nothing really changed and I don't really give a toss. Anyway, baring in mind that I need to be in work, and preferably functional, in less than 9 hours, I bid you goodnight.
7 Jan 2015
No, I Didn't Keel Over In a Corner, I Just Feel Like I Did,
Figured I should just get this out of the way whilst I have a spare twenty minutes - Yay, first post of 2015 *moderate sarcasm for those who don't know me too well* -.-
The last two months have been a kind of crazy blur. Third year is turning out reasonably well since I've managed to submit all my essays on time - win! - and the results I have got back have all been 2:1s - a win deserving cheesecake - now if only my dissertation were going so swimmingly... Let's call it a day there, rather than discuss that one.
So, what else has been happening? Well, my university seems ready to drop off the face of the earth, I went see Hollywood Undead and had to go steaming 'tup Norf for a family funeral. I've never understood why the word fun occurs in funeral, because they never really are...
Anyway, Christmas and New Year and everything like that happened and Yours, is still not finished, my head's still buzzing with characters - arguably more than ever - and I don't really know where to find the time to start writing let alone where in this web of lives to start writing. I mean, I love them all, how can I choose?
It's also difficult because my wrists are so damn sore that I can't type properly, or hold a pen without pain, and the only other alternative is my newer quill. It's absolutely delightful, but I'm so scared of dropping it and shattering it that I almost hate using it as much as I love it!
So I'm stuck in a place where I'm not sure if writing, typing and knitting is actually making my wrist better or worse, but since there is no other option but to plow headlong through life, that's kind of what I am attempting.
The last two months have been a kind of crazy blur. Third year is turning out reasonably well since I've managed to submit all my essays on time - win! - and the results I have got back have all been 2:1s - a win deserving cheesecake - now if only my dissertation were going so swimmingly... Let's call it a day there, rather than discuss that one.
So, what else has been happening? Well, my university seems ready to drop off the face of the earth, I went see Hollywood Undead and had to go steaming 'tup Norf for a family funeral. I've never understood why the word fun occurs in funeral, because they never really are...
Anyway, Christmas and New Year and everything like that happened and Yours, is still not finished, my head's still buzzing with characters - arguably more than ever - and I don't really know where to find the time to start writing let alone where in this web of lives to start writing. I mean, I love them all, how can I choose?
It's also difficult because my wrists are so damn sore that I can't type properly, or hold a pen without pain, and the only other alternative is my newer quill. It's absolutely delightful, but I'm so scared of dropping it and shattering it that I almost hate using it as much as I love it!
So I'm stuck in a place where I'm not sure if writing, typing and knitting is actually making my wrist better or worse, but since there is no other option but to plow headlong through life, that's kind of what I am attempting.
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