Thursday, 29 October 2009

oh, hello hormones

Here's a random fact about myself that i'm not so proud of:
i'm terrified that i'm replacable.
And that fact allows me to get upset over things that weren't meant to hurt me, and i'm really praying hard that I learn to get over this, but sometimes this seems too big to climb.

Tuesday, 27 October 2009

Friday, 23 October 2009

the feel of your pulse keeps me up at night

Sheffield was super ♥
(Rain; the ruin of my adorable Topshop mary janes (and consequently the smell of wet suede permeating every inch of his flat) and the feeling that drama follows me around like a puppy dog aside)
Highlights include being the only girl in a club wearing jeans and a sweater, the discovery of 'apple jack,' the fountain at the station, Nandos, sharing a pint of cider through a straw, the wheel of Sheffield, shopping, seeing an old friend, 'the bottle of Becks with the wolf please?', the bartender commenting on my dress, RUN DMC, dancing on the stage, little kisses, Canterbury/themotherfuckingcancerbats/Billy Talent, late night study sessions and Rocky bars.
Plus, I managed not to cry on the bus home, which was a one up on the time before when I snivelled all the way to Leicester.
The countdown to Paris officially starts now.

We're into the studio to record my favourite song of ours, which should hopefully be on iTunes before the end of the year (HOW ACE IS THAT?) which means a horribly early start, but I'll try and catch a few cheeky nods on the tube. But I finally finished the lyrics around Milton Keynes and think I like them, referenced Tubelord so it can't be that bad.

On a more domestic note, I really, really, mega miss people. Not even those at university but those closer to home who I just don't see as much as I'd really like to.
I'm trying to kick it old skool and organise a year ten-esque girlie sleepover - slasher flicks/unironic rom coms/Archers/pizza and giggling in hushed whispers about love, sex, friendship and anything, everything in between.

Sunday, 18 October 2009

still I wanted to tell you that I love you the best

I am terrible at packing. I really am.
Don't get me wrong, I'm a total Monica and love making lists of things to pack and I'm a dab hand at fitting impossible amounts of clothes into small spaces, but I'm awful at deciding what I should pack and what the National Express won't allow space for on their coaches.
It's because I like to dress to fit my mood, and it's frustrating when I want to wear something but then discover that I haven't got it in my H&M holdall.
I'm sorry if this spills over into cliched and cloying, because I deplore that girl as much as anyone, but I hate being so far away from the boy that is my boyfriend, best friend and all round swell kinda guy. It literally makes me ache.
So now I've got the good kind of butterflies because this time tomorrow I'll be in the city of steel and I can almost guarantee that, 407 days since the first time, my heart will have melted into a pool of girly slush at his feet.

Monday, 12 October 2009

I don't know who you think you are, but before the night is through, I want to do bad things with you

As of 7th of shocktober 2009, boring, mundane Wednesday has officially become no-human-contact Wednesday.
True blood. It's that good.

Sunday, 11 October 2009

the time has come for colds and overcoats

Gaaaahhh meant to working this weekend to try and actually be able to pay off various debts (to my bandmates and boyfriend mostly) and actually be able to call that faux Chanel topshop cardigan my very own. But much to my disgust, after discovering that the car urgently needs to visit the nearest and greasiest mechanics, that goal proved impossible. Unless I was open to getting a train to the nearest station then pay for a twenty minute taxi ride at four in the morning, or risk walking a distinctly rape-y looking path in the pitch black totally alone.
So, tonight was spent curled up on the sofa, arm in arm with my mother watching the X Factor with a large glass of rosé, debating the merits of Cheryl Cole's delightfully fashion forward frocks and joining the rest of the nation in outrage at Dannii 'what grown woman spells her name that way? really' Minogue's very gossip friendly comments. Which proved more than tolerable, really. (The evening, not what that bitchy little Aussie said.)

Spent the last two weekends enjoying the luxury of some serious 'me' time, after a summer spent tumbling between friends, family, America and the boy. Which is why it was beyond wonderful to take the time to do the little things I relish and that make me who I am. Like having dinner with friends, walking the dog in the autumn leaves with my family, pouring over fashion magazines, downloading Belle and Sebastian's vicarious back catalogue, watching Juno AGAIN, whiling away hours in the perfume department of House of Frasers to pick out my next signature fragrance (leaning towards Paul Smith 'Roses' right now), making the time to kick off my transatlantic reading list, painting my nails a fetching shade of pink and picking out my sartorial and delectable fashion choices for A/W 09. I realise its probably less than altruistic but they call it retail therapy for a reason. See, I undertook my seasonal ritual of trawling the shops of my home town and making a mental wishlist for the coming months of cold breezes and hot drinks.

However, in the very selections I made, I realised with mild horror that I'm definitely closing in on being mature and 'adult.' Like things that I loved passionately about a year ago (like a lot of the more candied spectrum of the 'pop punk' genre, or coating my peepers in eyeliner) have begun to irritate me a little, and I now find myself more drawn to 'interesting' indie rock and quirky yet classic attire. What does this mean?
I'm not sure yet, but I'm pretty sure it's a good thing.

Saturday, 3 October 2009

will someone buy me one pleeeeeeease?

maybe i should just turn this into a blog appreciating the comic and 'awwwww' factors of these marvellous little dogs?