Ooo tidy!

My room is usually an utter mess. This is a huge shame as I love having a tidy room; I get all houseproud and turn on my pretty colour-changy things.



For the past few days I've been spending MUCH less time online; it's been good for me. I suddenly have heaps of spare time, hence the tidy room, the fact that I've been doing lots of reading for my course, and my thoroughly moisturised body. I've even painted my nails. Heck, I've even painted my TOEnails. I haven't taken this much care of my appearance since... last time I had this much free time.

I might go out and buy that celebratory bottle of Baileys I've been promising myself. For weeks now I've been saying "When I make some definite progress on my uni transfer, I'll treat myself." Well, today I finally managed to beat the information I needed out of the admin team! (They were lovely and helpful actually, I just wish they'd been as lovely and helpful the first seven times I asked them...) Mad props to my tutor for helping me out with that, even though she probably doesn't know what mad props are.

On a similar note, I have an interview at UWIC on Friday the 7th of March. I'm pretty confident about the interview aspect of things but I'm terrified that my grades aren't up to scratch. We'll see. That's gonna be a good weekend though; I'm staying in Cardiff Friday night (plans yet tbc but I think there's a party on the cards), going to Bristol for a beatboxing event on Saturday, staying over at a friend's house and going to his church on Sunday, then back to Cardiff until Monday morning! Most excellent!

It's especially good to have the countdown at less than a week because I've been missing my boy like CRAZY. It gets particularly bad for no apparent reason sometimes, and this is one of those times. Last night we were talking on the phone and we agreed that it felt like ages since we'd been together. Some quick mental maths put "ages" as 12 days. I mean seriously; that's not even two weeks! What's wrong with me?!

Oh right, the love thing.

Anyway, hope this finds you all well. I'm not spending ages online but I will get your comments as I'm still checking my emails... several times a day. Well nobody said I was going cold turkey!!

EDIT: Oh and I almost forgot, ITOTD: Garfield Minus Garfield. Well worth checking out!

Life continues

I saw some reverse graffiti for the first time yesterday! I wrote about it a while ago.


I still think it's way cool.

Been an ok few days; Gavin is home safe from his adventures, thank goodness, so I'm not a widow or owt! I've been chasing through my university transfer, and I've got an interview at UWIC on Friday the 7th which is super-convenient because I was gonna be in Cardiff that weekend anyway. (Hopefully we're gonna go to the Bristol Beatbox championship heats!) I've promised myself a bottle of Baileys when I'm certain that I'm transferring.

Last night I dreamed of my family for the third night in a row. My dream recall really has improved lately!

Don't forget it's Mother's Day this Sunday. A favour from me to you.

Interesting thing of the day: GreenMetropolis. Heaven for the bookish types among us!

"DON'T PICK ME!!"

Interesting thing I heard today.

My coursemate's mum works as a psychiatric nurse. She once encountered a high-paid, driven, successful businesswoman who had been under a bit of pressure at work. I say a bit of pressure; she'd snapped and hidden under her desk screaming "DON'T PICK ME! DON'T PICK ME!" and freaking out whenever somebody tried to touch her to get her out.

Turned out she thought she was a strawberry.

I shouldn't laugh.

Ice cream makes everything better

What a peculiar day. My seminar tutor and I had a difference of opinion. He spent ten minutes defending something that I wasn't intending to attack; pointing out that there's no point my being here unless some things are wrong and some are right. I know that. I'm no relativist. But I didn't see how that equated to me being wrong and him being right, and it would have been just wonderful if he could have explained that part.

So, I felt quite got at, zoned and, and drew cartoons on the back of the poem instead. A girl in my seminar group said how ridiculous it was for him to attack the one person who actually contributes stuff in discussions. And now I'm worried that I might a) go completely silent, b) disagree with him on everything, or c) nod and smile at everything he says until he cries or something. I bought comfort ice cream on the way home. I'm buying too much unhealthy stuff these days, I feel all fat and gross. Boooo.

That was quite rubbish. And now I'm home with an essay to finish, and that's quite rubbish too, but I'm in a much better mood than I was due to a rather odd phone call I got from Gavin. He's gone mountain-climbing with his friends (Ben Nevis apparently, well done them), and the following was a conversation between myself, Gavin, and Stu.

Hey honey!
Hi girl, how are you feeling?
Better thanks. Done emo-ing now.
Have you met Stu?
Errr don't remember...
Say hello.
Ok, hi!
Hello! I'm in my pants!
*laughs* Great. Is Gav in his pants too?
No. He's not looking.
*couldn't make this bit out but I swear I heard the word 'twitching' in there*
Ok honey I'm gonna leave you to it...
Alright sweetie. Love you, bye!

So that cheered me up, and then I went downstairs for some trashy sitcom action and more ice cream. Ah well, back to that essay...

Dreams

I am now a contributor to "A Dreamer's Dream Diary", and I've just written this post about all my mad dreams last night. please tell me what on earth they mean!

Today's been interesting, I was woken by a phone call from my boy saying that he was going hill-walking / climbing in Scotland for five days, so he might be incommunicado for that long. I'm so proud of him!

Then at 11 I went into university to see for myself if I had a lecture on today. Yes, I could have checked without getting out of bed, but I'd quite like to not get too lazy to move. I wandered around taking multiple photos of stickers (there are SO MANY stickers in Plymouth!), met up with Luke (fellow dream blogger), and came home.

Back from the island

So the past few days since returning from my beloved Isle have been... fairly dull, I suppose. So I won't bore you with that and will instead tell you about my weekend.

I was home on the Isle of Wight with my wonderfully odd family and my oddly wonderful boyfriend (whom I shall no longer refer to as the boy for the sake of clarity and suchlike). We went to Ventnor Botanic gardens which was amazing. It's one of the more beautiful places on the island, which is saying something; and because I've been there every year for as long as I can remember, I wanted to take Gavin there and show him all the pretty secret places we've found over time.

There was a point on the Saturday when I realised just how idyllic and chocolate-box perfect my childhood was. We were walking down an aisle, with the noises of some mans playing football in the field on the left, birds singing in the trees on the right, and church bells chiming up ahead. I miss my home.

Sunday was all about running through the woods shooting people with laser guns. Or in my case, standing in the base waiting for a rush that never came. I was SO COLD!

The following are various pretty pictures I took over the weekend:






Interesting thing of the day (you can now find all past ITOTD items on the left-hand column): Spin the black circle. Totally addictive, very clever idea.

Me too!

In response to Ben's I Had a Dream post, I thought I'd ask for analysis on my own. I've been remembering them more lately so it seem worth asking for insights into my psyche!

I was in a small car with members of my family, some family friends, and my boy. Someone was holding a baby. The baby was Josie, my cousin, but tinier and younger-looking . It was all good fun, if very cramped, (my family recently downsized from the Fruenmobile, a blue 9-seater van, to a regular car) and we started singing a song we all knew from church - although I can't remember which one now. Richard, the family friend, got a bit carried away and started clapping right by Josie's head, and she was crying like crazy.

I took the baby, who was wrapped in a soft white blanket, and started rocking and bouncing her a bit, and despite everyone's skepticism about the effectiveness of this method, she quietened down almost immediately. I didn't have a clue what my boy thought of it, I remember hoping he didn't think I was broody. That was certainly realistic!

Freud thinks I want a baby as a penis substitute. Freud is an idiot. What do you intelligent and wonderful people think?

V-day Disaster

I got home from university today to find that a box of twelve red roses had been delivered. It said my name on it, but I was confused - my boy had already explicitly told me that his plans had fallen through, so I wouldn't be getting anything (but, be fair, what's one day to a man who's so thoroughly sweet and romantic and caring all the time!).

For that and other reasons, it seemed a bit odd, but it was sweet regardless. So when he called me at lunchtime, I thanked him, told him they were beautiful. "What are?" he asked, but then he did the same thing last time, so I said "The roses!"

"I didn't send you any roses..."

...

So today has mainly been me trying to work out where the heck they came from. My boy is adamant that he didn't send them, and I believe him, even though my housemates are convinced they're from him (or my parents. Hardly likely!) I've been running through a mental list, getting ever more confused by the fact that there aren't any names on it.

Seriously! Very few people know my address, nobody but Gavin has expressed an interest in a looong time, and absolutely everybody knows that I'm madly in love with him.


Ah well. What it boils down to is that somebody's wasted their money, as they won't even get a thank you unless they give me another hint. Don't suppose my loyal readership can shed any light on the situation?

Small Talk

I'd like to tell you, my wonderful readers, about a little event that took place two - well, three if you want to be picky - days ago.

Picture the scene, if you will. The man I love is hanging out with some of his friends, people I like and admire very much, when suddenly the theme tune of a 90s quiz show comes on. Small Talk. The concept behind the game is that adults have to guess how colossally stupid any one of 9 opinionated, extroverted children are. My beloved volunteers the information that I was on this programme as a child, and that I am still very much traumatised by it. At that very moment, the jolly announcer chappy introduces Annaaaaaa! And there I was, waving at the camera, no doubt smiling a goofy little smile. Or possibly just looking smug.

He called me at that point to inform me of my reappearance on television. My response was (but of course) the epitome of maturity - I believe it was something like "NO SHUP I HATE YOU!" and then hanging up. Smooth, me. I then sat down in my living room, head in my hands, and - dear God, why - telling my housemate.

So, yes. we watched it. She found it hysterical, accurately describing the situation on the phone as "my housemate's on TV, it's hilarious, she's absolutely hating it!" We watched as the contestants called on me time after time, confident in my knowledge and wisdom, which my 8-year old self was only too glad to impart. We watched my thoughtful little face, listened to my posh (and higher than I remembered) voice, as I described hammocks, humiliated a classmate, and denounced war as "a bad thing". Way to go, little me.

I was hiding behind a cushion for most of it, emerging only for the half time pep talk from my love. Apparently all his friends thought it was very amusing, and possibly even something to be proud of!

Proud of? Hmm. Novel idea.

Another phone call at the end of the show had the rather strange effect of actually convincing me that maybe it wasn't so terrible. That maybe it was even a good thing that he'd seen it; and indeed that it was only fair since I've seen video footage of Little Gav. I was even told that the same mannerisms I display now were evident in little me. (So maybe I haven't changed as much as I feared...)

And suddenly, it's not such a big dark secret any more. Suddenly it's ok. Not least because, with both episodes out of the way, I can sleep at night knowing that nobody will be putting me on youtube!!

Ah yes, both episodes... well, the one detailed here was the second. A few days previously, I'd received this facebook message out of the clear blue yonder.

Well, it's time I went to bed like the good little diddums I am. But I would like to ask one question of you all first...

What are the freakin' odds?!

Fight for freedom

Right! I've been thinking lately about the state our county is in, and I'm going to lay some truth on you. LAY IT RIGHT ON YOUR FACE.

I will, for the purposes of this blog post, be citing my references.

Now, I'm not one of those people who think that everyone involved in government is inherently evil and wants to oppress me. I have a lot of faith in people; I just also think that large numbers of people in power can make colossally stupid decisions.

The UK is the world leader in CCTV use, with approximately 4.2 million cameras. ref That's about one every 15 people.

Nearly 4 million in the UK have their DNA permanently retained on the NDNAD (the National DNA Database); that's 5.2% of the country's population. Compare this to other countries; the second highest percentage of the population with DNA kept on record is Austria with 1%. ref
See, the thing is, they don't wait for formal charges to be made against you before they take your DNA, they do it the second they've got you. This has lead to black men being hugely overrepresented on the database; something that reflects far more on the bias in the police force than on crime statistics.

Another consequence is that the DNA of approximately 100,000 innocent children has been retained on the NDNAD. And once you're on there, it is really, really hard to get off. ref

See, the most convenient thing is if absolutely everyone has their DNA on there. Until very recently I wouldn't have seen anything wrong with this, and maybe you don't either, but this is something worth thinking about:

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Do you trust the Government to look after your data? ref
Do they have a right to your DNA?
Are they taking it with your permission?

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Sadly, the way things are going, it's looking like your permission isn't necessary for them to keep this information. They have been pushing for some time now for a national enforced ID scheme (ref) and have met with a lot of resistance, leading to them trying to sneak it in through teenagers or, worse, implanting subdermal chips in convicts. I've read the leaked government documents on the teenage ID cards, and it really does look like a poor disguise for introducing the system through a side door.

Again, these are all things that I would have once accepted. I can see the practicality in having an easy and conclusive form of ID, but the technology they intend to use is easily cloned, meaning that your identity can be stolen; and since your identity is that card, what can you do about it?
Furthermore, you KNOW how hard it is to get forms filled out properly. Scraping together enough valid identification for a passport was hard enough. I dread to think how many people might fall through the cracks of this system and become officially non-existent.

I think it's important to know your rights, and to fight for them. Everybody thinks that's important, of course, but maybe now's the time to do something about it.

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Taken from the European Convention on Human Rights

ARTICLE 8

1. Everyone has the right to respect for his private and family life, his home and his correspondence.
2. There shall be no interference by a public authority with the exercise of this right except such as is in accordance with the law and is necessary in a democratic society in the interests of national security, public safety or the economic well-being of the country, for the prevention of disorder or crime, for the protection of health or morals, or for the protection of the rights and freedoms of others.

ARTICLE 10

1. Everyone has the right to freedom of expression. this right shall include freedom to hold opinions and to receive and impart information and ideas without interference by public authority and regardless of frontiers. This article shall not prevent States from requiring the licensing of broadcasting, television or cinema enterprises.
2. The exercise of these freedoms, since it carries with it duties and responsibilities, may be subject to such formalities, conditions, restrictions or penalties as are prescribed by law and are necessary in a democratic society, in the interests of national security, territorial integrity or public safety, for the prevention of disorder or crime, for the protection of health or morals, for the protection of the reputation or the rights of others, for preventing the disclosure of information received in confidence, or for maintaining the authority and impartiality of the judiciary.

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Basically... I shouldn't be afraid of taking photos in public. I shouldn't be watched, every second of every day. There are a lot of people out there who know and care a lot more about this than I do, so if you're even vaguely interested in defending these liberties, please check out www.no2id.net.

"He also forced everyone, small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on his right hand or on his forehead, so that no one could buy or sell unless he had the mark, which is the name of the beast or the number of his name." Revelation 13:16-17. Sorry if it's excessively superstitious to bring that up, but it seems worth mentioning.

The Thing, and the Idea of the Thing.

I was wandering happily through Cardiff the other day, when I saw Orion in the sky and pointed it out to my boy excitedly. He said that it was just a bunch of dots and that it looks nothing like a man, and of course he's right... but this is sort of not the point.

Think of stars themselves. The Thing is: a star. A ball of gas burning billions of miles away (ten points for quote-spotting). But the idea of the thing is "like a diamond in the sky", a small twinkling jewel that children make wishes on.

There's a huge gap between what something actually is, and what the idea of it is.

So yeah, Orion is technically a bunch of dots, or literally several balls of flaming gas, but it's more than that to me. It's a legend about a hunter immortalised in the skies; it's a symbol of my slightly superstitious tendencies; it's a reminder that God's still there and hasn't left me alone. And it's just pretty.