My Mumbling Thoughts

*I kind of geek out about iMovie and Apple in this post, so if you don't care about Macs, you probably won't care about this particular post.*

I have lots of spare time.

THIS IS A GOOD THING.

Actually, it's a great thing, because I was originally stressing that I wouldn't have enough time to do my final two portfolios (you know, over the whole three week Easter break), but it turns out I've managed my time pretty well and I have extra spare time leftover to do things like EDIT and WRITE BLOG POSTS.

Who knew.

I woke up this morning to grey clouds and a bit of rain which made me sad since for the past week we've had nothing but brilliant sunshine and blue skies. Some folks already broke out the disposable grills from Asda and had a barbecue yesterday out on the lawn. It was torture to smell that amazing beef being grilled in my room while I was video recording one of my projects, but it was nice to know that we even had weather that would permit some people to use a disposable grill.

Now, however, it seems like the sun has overtaken the rain once more and outside my window are brilliant blues, greens and...umm....brown? The brown building is our library. Not a great view for me, but whatevs. At least I can see the gorgeous weather.

In other news, I went to the Mac Store on Regent Street on Thursday. I also went on Sunday but wasn't able to geek out completely since I was with Livvi and her boyfriend. They're (sadly) still Windows users so they didn't feel as comfortable or right at home as I do whenever I get near any kind of Mac appliance. I tend to develop a slight twitch because I'm so excited. It's like I'm getting a fresh dose of crack and I start to spaz out.

This Thursday, though, I went to the store at 10 o'fuck in the morning. That might not sound early, but when you're me who has to wake up at 7a.m. (early for my slacker self these days) and then travel at least an hour to get there, it's a lot of effort.

So why did I need to go to the Mac Store so early?

WELL, because for one of my final portfolios, I decided to take a vlog style approach to it, and I wanted to know all most of the tricks that I could do in iMovie. I couldn't be bothered to write a 3500 word short story and though it'd be more fun and "innovative" (since it is for my Fiction and Innovative Form lecture) if I recorded it all. Then I told my lecturer that I was recording it based on death of the author and hypertext. She loved the idea. Ate it up. And I got to do an extended vlog for my final project.

So that's why I was at the Mac Store in the wee early hours. Okay, not wee early hours, but whatever.

I sat there for TWO HOURS while some guy named Darren and his trusty assistant, Kate, told the four of us studious learners how to add text to our movies, how to change the color of our movies or how to add different sound effects or music to our movies. It was all very informative and helpful and made me wish that I had enough money to shell out on a new laptop with iMovie 09 on it.

Oh, I know, I have my darling Bridget, and I love her, but she is getting up there in age (nearly four years now!) and she doesn't work as well as she once did.

That's a lie, she works fine, but there are a couple of things that don't really work and it kind of annoys me about her.

Take for instance the iMovie that I have on Bridget. One of the options that I should be able to use is to record directly onto my hard drive using the iSight (the little wee built in webcam, for people who don't know what an iSight is). When I go into iMovie, I load up the iSight, click record, start talking and whatnot, but when I play it back the sound is completely jacked and I sound like a bunch of bees flying around. I don't know why it doesn't work and it annoys me too much to try and figure it out.

So because I can't even use the iSight in my iMovie, I have to rent out a video camera from our library so that I can do my vlogs and such, but for some reason Bridget never recognizes the camera properly whenever I plug it in so that I can load my movies up. She opens up iPhoto instead of iMovie and leaves me royally ticked off.

It's little things like that that really peeve me and get under my skin about her.

I can't really complain, though. She has been pretty bitchin' ever since I got her and has taken care of me many a-nights and days whenever I was stressing about an essay or just plain bored out of my skull. The only real problem I've ever had was when she scared the hell out of me and crashed out, but that was taken care of and luckily I had most of my information backed up on my external hard drive, Carrie.

Because Bridget is on the verge of being taken to a retirement home, I've decided to use one of my fresher's MacBooks to do all of video editing on today. Emma's MacBook, Pip, is a bit newer, a bit shinier, a bit more sprightly than 'ol Bridget and has no problem recording my voice using iSight and recognizes the video camera in iMovie, not iPhoto and tends to run a little bit more smooth. Pip doesn't need to rub Deep Heat on her joints to keep going. Pip just goes and does her thang.

That's what I'm going to be doing all day then. Sitting in my room, recording footage, editing footage and then hopefully burning the footage onto a DVD so that I can hand the bastard in with my essay that I've ALREADY WRITTEN. I didn't know how good it would feel to have an essay written six days before it's due in, but I tell ya, it feels good. I kind of want to do a jig.

And with all of this spare time I have, and since I'll be mainly working on Pip today, I might even put up a new vlog. Who knows! I guess you'll just have to wait and see.

I know. I can hardly stand the anticipation as well.

Posted by Sam at 10:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

There are two things in this world that I am religiously obsessed with: music and tanning. Sometimes when it's nice out (actually, especially when it's nice out) I like to listen to my music while I tan. I know. It's crazy!

London is waking up, the sun is shining and where am I?

Stuck inside doing the last bit of my uni work. That's where I am. Or here, typing up this post avoiding uni work.

All of it will be handed in by the end of next Thursday. Then I'll officially have no more work and can spend as much time outside that I want laying in the sun, soaking up the rays and proving everyone wrong who thinks I can't tan underneath the English sun. I've done it before! I'll do it again!

But, ugh....this whole Sitting Inside business when my window is open, the curtain is pulled back and there's a pool of sunshine warming me up, is so damn distracting! Especially when I know I could be outside right now feeling that slight tingle on my skin. That's what I want. That's what I need. It's what I'm craving right now.

Sometimes I'm bad and lay outside anyway making myself think that I'm going to hand write all of my work and then type it up later. Ha! What a load of bollocks. As if I'm really going to be focused when my eyes are closed and I'm on the verge of falling asleep on the lawn. I DON'T THINK SO. Or when I decide to go out for lunch with some of the babies and Helen (like I did yesterday).

I CAN'T STAND THIS TORTURE.

I am a sun-loving, beach babe at heart and all I want to do is walk around in a summer dress, sip on a pint of Pimm's (hello Pimm's o'clock!), fire up the grill and live outside until it's time to come inside and look at everyone's funny tan lines. I don't want to plan chapter three. I don't want to write two essays. I don't want to do a fictional vlog on dating. Someone else do it for me!

In other non-weather related news, I unfortunately didn't get the job at the music college that would have been SO PERFECT for me. Tabitha rang me up yesterday afternoon as I began the digesting process of a massive burger from GBK, and told me that they "went in a different direction" for someone who was "more qualified".

Blah, whatever. I'm sure another job will come rolling around soon and I'll do just as fine at that. I suppose until I do hear from her I can spend my days out on the lawn. You know, after I do my stupid work. And Chris said that I could always go back to working at the shop if I'm really desperate, which I do believe I'm on the verge of.

Oh, what am I even doing on here?! I need to be planning out my work and essays!

Posted by Sam at 07:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Can someone please tell me why those random homeless people (well, I don't know if they're really homeless) that stand on the high street sidewalks selling those obscure magazines that nobody's ever heard of, always have a rottweiler dog tied up next to them?

I was just wondering that while I was out today.

This has been a successful Thursday, which is nice considering I had a lovely Wednesday yesterday. I don't know if y'all already know this or not, but Wednesday is my favorite day of the week. Really. I love Wednesdays. All good things generally happen for me on Wednesdays and yesterday was no exception to the rule.

It was Jon's 21st birthday and I was going to see Helen for the first time since....well....she was last in London for a visit (Christmas?). Our plans were to go into Kingston, eat an amazing jacket potato from Spuds, then drink. What could be more fun than that?

Nothing is more fun than that, I'll tell you now.

For the past three years I've noticed something about the Easter holiday break. It is always around this time that London transforms and becomes even more lush, green and lovely. Now some people may call this time of year "spring" but whatever. I notice the transformation every single time and am amazed every single time when the trees become full once again with leaves and baby birds. Our clocks rotate forward one hour allowing the sun to stick with us for a little longer while we linger down by the river with fresh fruit in our pints of Pimm's in plastic cups.

(Is it just me or does the above sentence have a lot of alliteration?)

Wednesday, my favorite day of the week, was a nice reminder of what I love most about being here. Jon, Trish and myself met Helen in front of Primark at three o'clock and I think overwhelmed her with our enormous presence. I don't think she was expecting such a welcoming in Kingston, but alas! There we all were sharing hugs, poking boobs (as Helen likes to do to greet her friends) and immediately kicking off the banter that our group has. We ate, we made dirty jokes, we laughed and we all caught each other up with the latest gossip that has been happening in our lives. And boy, was there gossip (which I'm obviously not at liberty to discuss since I've been sworn to secrecy. Just know that blood was involved).

After we filled our bellies with the best jacket potatoes in town, we headed straight to the Slug 'n' Lettuce to get cracking on with the drinkin'. You can't celebrate someone's 21st birthday without involving drinks. Helen and I bought our Pimm's while Trish opted for her usual lager and Jon stayed sweet with a mojito. We sat at one of the tables outside in the sunshine and talked about the past, present and future and laughed about what was, what is and what will inevitably be. That was us, four friends having a laugh.

And goddamn did I laugh.

We decided to get a bottle of white wine and rosé as well, and while we were quickly draining those two bottles I received a call from my favorite recruiter, Tabitha. She asked me (as she always does) if I was free to work, which I told her I was, and she then continued to tell me about a position that has become available working at a music college earning £9 an hour (!). I would have an interview on Monday at eleven o'clock in the morning and if I was successful (cross fingers!) then I could start the following week. It is a three month contract and I'd just be doing regular administrative assistance things that I always do.

I spoke to Tabitha briefly, hung up the phone and took another sip of wine. Nothing could really get better.

Except of course stopping into a shoe store drunk, before getting on the bus so that Jon could buy a new pair of trainers. And dancing to the shop music. And singing along.

That was definitely icing on the birthday cake.

It was a brilliant Wednesday and made me a little nostalgic to go back in time, if only for a little while, and relive the happy moments, the funny moments, the time we all spent together in the sunshine. I remembered our skin glowing as the sun would set, laying comfortably out on the lawn with our arms over our faces to shield our eyes from the English rays. We consumed mass amounts of Pimm's, Magners and beer while listening to songs that would shape our memories and remind us later of a time when things weren't dramatic and stressful, but more carefree and loving.

I only realized yesterday (after I sobered up a little bit) that this would be the last time for me to live so carefree. At least for a while. I realized that now I'm on a countdown until my time's up and I head back home. I was a little sad but I know it'll be fine. I'll always have the vivid colors in my mind of the green leaves, the thick grass, the vibrant flowers, the glossy stones. I'll still be able to smell the disposable barbecue grills dying down, the second hand smoke from people's rollies, the thick air in the city and the undefinable smell of Lee House that you only know about if you've ever lived in Lee House. I'll still have the streets I walked down, the places I danced at, the people I cuddled with and all of the million other memories I've created here with me. All of that I'll be taking back. And I know for a fact there aren't enough suitcases in the world to hold all of my London memories.

So here's to many more Wednesdays.

Posted by Sam at 11:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I was speaking to Gerry the other day when he told me that he wished I updated my blog more (yes, all of my children have my blog address) when I thought to myself, "huh, I wish I updated my blog more too!"

Now I'm not going to make any promises, because I'm shit at keeping them, but I will try my best to update more here on My Mumbling Thoughts. I mean hell, it's not like I'm so busy I don't have any time. Trust me, I have time. Without a job to go to, or any lectures to go to, and being completely alone in the flat, I'm swimming in time. True, there are things I should be doing like my coursework and making time to visit our local hospital (I'm going today dammit), but I prefer to waste my time by watching funny videos on YouTube, or by shaving my legs and putting on my amazing tanning lotion that doesn't leave streaks or turn me orange (seriously, I'm addicted).

Besides, it'll be better for me to do something more constructive with all of this time I have besides watching re-runs of Friends every night on E4.

SO. I never went over to Trilby boi's house in the end. Mostly because I could feel a terrible cold creeping around inside of my body and I couldn't be arsed to go all the way to his house (he never does come over here, the bastard). But also because after I had a conversation with Trish about him, I realized how much of a weird freak he is and was immediately turned off.

I don't want to fuck that weird freak ever again.

Ever.

It's just such a shame, because as I've said before, he was a damn fine lay.

Anyway, while I was not going over to his house and my body was getting progressively worse because of The Plague, I did some thinking and have decided that I am once again going to cut out the peen.

That's right ladies and gents, no more sex for at least two months. I thought that a month would be too short for me this time round and have decided to add on another month and see how I manage. Lent might be over for the rest of the world, but it's just starting for me.

Why then have I decided to cut the peen out once more? Well, it mostly has something to do with what Trilby boi said to me when I was over there last week.

We were sitting on his sofa, the telly was on in the background, we were having a conversation about....something (I never really did listen to him) when he suddenly asked me, "so tell me about that time you were fingered on stage."

The first thing out of my mouth was, "which time?"

Yes, I have been fingered on a public stage not once, not twice, but three times. And there were only two occasions when it was a stranger. The first time was with one of Zoe's friends, so I kind of knew him beforehand.

The time that Trilby boi had heard about was last year when I was running for International Officer in the university's elections. I hardly remember it because I was so drunk, and he was so drunk, and it was so dark. I guess it wasn't that dark though, because Trilby boi's ex-fiance saw me with some guy's hand down the front of my shorts. Then because she's awesome a gossiping bitch, she told Trilby boi and all of their friends.

It was then I realized that I really do have a reputation here at my uni, and it's probably not the greatest one to have.

Now, I don't care about what people have heard about me or what they think of me. I honestly don't. Everyone that doesn't know me personally and judges me solely on my reputation can go fuck themselves. Everyone does crazy/whacky/stupid things when they've been off their tits, so I know better than to think for one second that a person is only their drunk alter egos that come out at the bop, or Fez, or the Grand, or the bar, or anywhere in Putney/Central/Kingston/wherever. Behind my Sharon lies a chilled out Sam that is nice and likes to make large meals for everyone in the flat. And I'm sure behind everyone else's drunk alter egos lies a sober, nice person as well. I hope.

What I do care about is myself. I care about my feelings, my self-esteem and the emotional damage I'm causing my heart every single time I go out, get wasted and hook up with some randomer. I know in the long run it's not good for me. And if you want to break down some of the psychological walls of my destructive drinking, I know it's because I have low self-esteem when it comes to guys and the only gratification I get (and the only gratification I think I deserve) is by having multiple one-night stands with strangers that I can remain emotionally detached from.

Hence why I've decided to cut the peen out for two months.

When I was at Trilby boi's house, I realized that I was there purely for sex. Which is fine, yes, but how long have I been saying that I want something more? He didn't ask any questions about me, he didn't seem interested in me at all as a person, he didn't want to get to know me. Instead he talked about video games, the food in his cupboard and himself. All of which were so boring to me I just wanted to roll over and go to sleep.

I'm sorry, but I am worth more than some weird 24-year-old, World of Warcraft loving, pretentious know-it-all that makes me feel like nothing. I know what I want. I know what I'm looking for. I just need to stop having all of the stupid sex with stupid people get in the way. It might be instant gratification that sustains me for a few days, but after a while it gets me nowhere. I don't want to end up Nowhere. I want to end up Somewhere with Someone that knows that I'm a chilled out person that likes making large meals for people.

Posted by Sam at 08:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

*Before I begin my post gushing over my beautiful children that I love and adore more than anything in the whole world, I must first make an announcement about Elisa's new website that she started called Save the Writers. It's a brilliant idea that she has come up with for all of the freelance writers out there who have been laid off in the economic crisis. Times are hard for everyone, but the publishing industry is one of the businesses that has been hit the hardest. So if you want to pop over, pay her a visit and leave a lovely little comment, I know it'd be greatly appreciated. And who knows, maybe even yours truly might even put her own two cents in eventually. You know, once I'm finished writing all of the other stuff I have piled up on the right side of me.*

********

I do believe it was one of my last sessions with Maria that I brought up my wee freshers, my darling children, my kids that aren't from my body but that I claim as my own anyway. For this particular fifty minute session, we would discuss the dynamics of our group, why it was formed the way it was and what I got out of it personally. What did I gain by calling Emma, Livvi, Katie and Gerry my kids? And why did I want this kind of set up from the very beginning?

It was a nice little discovery that I made and it turns out I'm not such a Kid Hater after all. I just don't like kids that I don't know. If I were to ever have children, or if any of my friends were to have children (hey, we're getting up there now when it's almost that time) I'd be head over heels! Just keep those stranger's kids away from me, otherwise I might push them on the ground and blame it on the big dog that's nowhere to be found.

What discovery I made, however, was that I am a Family Girl. I love the dynamics of Home Life, of being a close knit group and forming those kinds of bonds that last for all eternity. I'm not simply one for getting to know a person and then forgetting all about them ten minutes later. What's the point in that? If I'm going to tell you information about me, then prepare to know me for a LONG TIME. We're going to be best friends whether you like it or not. And we're going to bond a lot. We're supposed to share things with each other, have snuggles, cuddles, make dinners together, work together, play together, laugh together, cry together, do everything together.

I love that shit, so feel free to call me out whenever I say that it's lame.

My Home Life has always been Momma and Mel. It has been the three of us for as long as I can remember. No father. No other Outside Man Influence. Nobody else except for us three ladies ruling our own lives.

When I moved over here, I obviously broke the Home Life dynamic of our tripod. At least Momma and Mel had each other, though, because three thousand miles away I was struggling to cope on my own without my other two halves, without my two best friends. Even though we each clearly had our own roles, we were all equals and I missed having Momma and Mel around.

Enter my darling freshers. This was my chance to recreate that Home Life that I had been missing ever since I left. I was going to have my babies and I'd be the momma and we'd all make dinner together every night, and they'd all pile on my bed to have long and in-depth conversations for hours and it'd be just like home.

Obviously I never consciously thought this out (god, talk about creepy), but I did want our flat to feel as homey as possible, like in my first year. I wanted everyone to get along, to be happy and to have the greatest flat on campus, because I know how hard first year can be and feeling like you're coming home to family makes that giant leap a little bit easier.

Livvi and Katie, my blond babies, my little darlings that I cherish and want to squeeze so hard until their little heads pop off are the two that happened to recreate that tripod for me here, just as I have back home. I am the momma, and they are my two children, yet we are all equal. I do everything with them, share everything with them, talk to them for ages and tell them what they need to do if they ever get sick, or need advice on anything. And in return I have gained so much from knowing them both that I'm surprised whenever I learn something new.

The two of them have taught me to be so much more kind. I know it sounds weird, but I've never met two people who are so ridiculously sweet. I didn't think it was possible! And Katie, my little Boobah, is quite possibly the cutest person on the planet. I could never get angry at her. They've also taught me how to be patient, how to have self-discipline and to not let my emotions cloud my judgement and get in the way of what is truly important. They've taught me that random cuddles throughout the day is perfectly normal and in some cases, needed. They are an amazing support system, and I don't know what I would have done if I had never met them.

Then there's Emma and Gerry, who are so independent it baffles my mind. They don't necessarily need or even want me to mother them, but I look after them anyway whether they like it or not. Before Gerry left to go back home (we miss you Ger-Bear!) these two were the fairly odd couple. Emma is a born again Christian that knows everything there is to know about anything (seriously, I dare you to test her), and Gerry is the evil gay that will shank a bitch and call them a fucking retard to their face. Yes, the combination is odd, but the two of them get along like a house on fire and it was a sad day when our little token gay boy decided to peace out after Christmas to go back home.

The two of them have taught me how to stand up on my own two feet, even when I've already been standing for two days straight and want nothing more than to collapse on the ground. They've taught me how to navigate through the vintage shops in Brick Lane, how to bake a cake from scratch, how to be more open-minded to people that I once thought were legal nutters and how to keep going even when all the odds are stacked against me. They are both firm believers in tough love and showing no mercy, so I find that they're an awesome balance after Livvi and Katie.

So yeah, I lucked out when it came to getting freshers this year. My girls and gay are more than I could have ever wished for in freshers, and have taught me valuable lessons throughout my final year that I know I'll keep with me long after I leave this place behind. And who cares if it's not the most ideal way to set up a group? It works for us and we're all happy. They've made me realize so much that I never knew I even wanted and have kept me grounded and stable this whole year. I just hope that I've been able to teach them as much in return as they've taught me.

Posted by Sam at 04:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Now what have I done? Look at what I've gone and done! Great. Just. Great.

Awesome.

Minus the awesome.

You know, I think it's funny, or cute, but the next thing you know I'm sitting in the corridor, drunk and crying down the phone to Livvi, because HE DOESN'T WANT TO FUCK ME ANYMORE.

Jesus, who would want to fuck me? I'm a crying, belligerent mess on the floor. I just want to stand myself up, give myself a good couple of smacks across the face and shout, "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WOMAN!" Because being a crying heap on the floor isn't a good look for me. In fact, it's the complete OPPOSITE.

So what did I do ladies and gents that's so terrible? I resurrected Trilby boi. Don't remember him? He's the one that I hooked up with and then he got a girlfriend roughly about three days later. They then got engaged but have since broken up leaving him single once again.

Yeah. THAT guy.

I don't know what possessed me to breathe life back into that relationship (not that we even had a relationship of any kind), but safe to say that after about a month and a half, I get a little frisky for some man-loving and apparently I'm so desperate I don't really care where it comes from anymore. Well, I'm desperate and cheap. Who can afford to keep going out to club after club, getting ridiculously wasted and hoping that some guy will want to come back home to do the nasty? And who knows if he'll even be decent between the sheets! No, no. Trilby boi is a definite guarantee good lay and is only a quick five minute bus journey down the road (I guess I could walk for free, but I'd prefer to conserve my energy).

So one random Wednesday, I saw that he was on MSN (HE added ME, for the record) and for shits and giggles, I told Trish that we should send him a message, fuck with his mind a little bit and play some mind games on the guy that hooked up with me and then casually tossed me aside without thinking twice. It would be fun. It would cure our Wednesday Boredom Blues. It'd be interesting to see what he had to say for himself.

We then proceeded to have a TWO HOUR LONG conversation about....oh, I don't know what about. Trish was doing most all of the typing and I was just cringing next to her shouting, "I WOULD NEVER SAY THAT. DON'T TYPE THAT."

After that epic long conversation about nothing, we then continued with the text messages. It was about two weeks of flirting, building up, intense sexual tension and me constantly declining his invitations, because he wasn't just gonna get it like that (also because I was waiting to go and get the contraceptive shot in my left ass cheek so I don't have to worry about babies for the next three months, and no sexy times is allowed beforehand; that was a very difficult waiting time for me).

Well, we finally hooked up. FINALLY. After two weeks of waiting, after a very hot, sexy preview, after me going to the bop, getting stupidly drunk and crying because I was stood up on the Friday, after no text messages all weekend!

We finally had sex.

And it was good. It was better than good. It was MIND-BLOWING. Amazing. Fantastic. Out of this world.

Yeah, you get it. It was awesome.

But here's the thing.

I remember the sex being amazing and it sure did live up to my memory's expectations. I do not, however, remember him being amazing. I remember him being the exact same way that he is still to this day: arrogant, condescending, patronizing and on occasion, rude.

Honestly, no wonder I drank when I was around him. I didn't understand half of the things he was talking about. How many times does our water get filtered in between leaving the water plant to the time it reaches our taps? I don't know! Who cares about this stuff? Aside from people that work at water plants? I don't want to talk about hash and how it's been baked in the sun and it's the purest form of weed. I just want to smoke the shit. No, I don't know who the comedian with the handlebar mustache is, I just think he's really funny. Can't we just watch the telly?

WHO BLOODY CARES?!

Yeah, our personalities definitely don't click. They don't mesh. They don't gel. They aren't a good combination in my honest opinion. But our sexual chemistry is dead. on. We get along fantastically when he isn't talking about how he built his computer from scratch.

Then I thought, maybe I'm being too harsh? Perhaps he's just super smart and lacks a little bit in the people skills department. I don't get the math numbers he's throwing out and he doesn't get my funny Americanisms that seem to confuse him ALL THE TIME. Maybe I should give him another chance and stop over thinking shit like I always do and go with the flow. Besides, he has the next six months worth of movies already in his possession (he's a pirate) and I could do with a film night plus sexy times.

Whatever the reason, I'm going to try again later on this evening and see what the results are.

Posted by Sam at 10:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)