Family Guy Season 8 Review

No time to blog properly, still, but the updates from Laura-land are that life is hectic, going much as can be expected, and that I have become one of THOSE people in proud possession of a BlackBerry. But I have a Family Guy review for you to read:

Anyone who knows me knows I am an obsessive Family Guy fan. So it will come as no surprise to them that I have had this item on pre-order since May. Or that I am about to sing the praises of Seth MacFarlane once again.

If you have not yet discovered that the bird is the word, I highly recommend this DVD set. Remember that this was a show that was historically cancelled and then resurrected by DVD sales, and spend your money generously.

In return, you’ll get 13 new episodes, including plenty of gags and sequences cut from TV; with “all the poops and farts and nudity intact”, as Peter would put it. There are also, for the hardcore nerds like me, commentaries on each episode, deleted scenes, and even a behind the scenes tour of the production offices which will make wannabe sitcom writers drool in envy!

Season 8 really offers nothing new, just more of the same characters and laughs you know and love. This will be the last season to feature Cleveland (before he leaves for his spin off) and I don’t want to give anything away, but this might also be the last we see of the un-funny Evil Monkey for a while. Plus, Bonnie next door FINALLY has her baby! High points include Peter adopting a new dog to replace an aging Brian, Stewie’s time machine, and the return of the inimitable James Woods.

If you’re a regular viewer or if you just enjoy quirky insult humour, then Season 8 will not disappoint.

But, this just isn’t them at their very best. The jokes have gotten less clever and more in your face. Perhaps this is just because I have been watching more American Dad lately, but the cutaways and setups seem clunky and contrived; and it seems like the plot is getting more and more far fetched in the search for more outrageous humour. What used to be hilariously esoteric sometimes now seems merely vaguely random.

When insulting celebrities, it is the same ones who take the hits time after time, and occasionally the crude jokes go just that little bit too far. Some of them make it patently clear why they were unacceptable for mainstream TV, and with good reason, says the little bit of a prude left in me. Also, some gags seem to go on a tad too long at times, as though the writers didn’t know how to end it and just kept going, even though the joke and the punch-line have both already been hit. But then again, as Brian put it: “If you don’t like it, go complain on the Internet”...

If you’re a big fan or a semi-interested viewer, then this is new material to satisfy you. And it’s laugh out loud funny at times. But if you’re new to the show, or trying to sell it on someone, seasons 3/4/5 are much better samples to turn to. Worth having around the house though, and I’m still in love enough to have told my Amazon account to email me the second Season 9 goes on sale!

A look at November

I have decided that I’m going to stop apologising for neglecting this blog. This comes after a good look at my life, and a re-organisation of my priorities. I am a third year student, with a dissertation, an Editor, and I have friends who want to see me, and a boyfriend now: as much as I enjoy blogging and like to think I have a few fans who check regularly enough to notice an absence, I shouldn’t feel guilty or obliged to entertain you on a regular basis. Please do keep checking back, because I’m not abandoning you forever, but do forgive me if there are long pauses between visits.

On that note, let me tell you now that November is going to be an exciting month. This week we have the release of the first issue of Pugwash News under the new team (28 strong and so far working out very well!), and our first meeting and social. Then it’s Claire’s birthday on Bonfire Night, and I’m heading to Bath for a long weekend to visit her the next day. In the meantime, I have a whack of uni work to catch up on, and Family Guy Season 8 arrived in the post yesterday – look out for a review once I’ve sat down and digested it all.

The following week is obviously Remembrance Day, but ought to be fairly quiet until the paper weekend rolls around again. That Sunday I am bussing it to London for a treat – Discover Dogs at Earl’s Court! (It’s like Crufts, but without the actual dog show – just the agility etc and a meet the breeds section, which is always fun. Claire, bless her, will be joining me for the 2nd of three weekends we’ll spend in each other’s company this month!)

The third week brings with it something really exciting: the release of my first ever properly published piece!!! First Edition Magazine are publishing one of my short stories in their December issue, which comes out on the 17th of November. I am so very very excited about this – I was literally happy dancing round my flat when I found out, and cannot wait to see how it looks in print. Please pick up a copy!

The 20th of November is Dad’s birthday, and I’m heading to London that weekend to meet the family and hang out for a bit – will be good to see the parents. They’re currently in Canada for a “meet the potential future son in law” visit, and Dad’s university graduating class reunion. Won’t get to see the spooch unfortunately, but hopefully the previous weekend will have cured enough of my dog nerdiness to last me til Xmas!

The final week sees my first ever deadline – for a Postmodernism and Fiction essay which I haven’t even started thinking about yet. I will obviously need to start working on it pretty soon, especially given the lack of proper weekends this month. After that, I can start thinking about Xmas (seriously, why has stuff been in the stores since July?) – I’m feeling a shopping trip to Southampton coming on, if anyone wants to join me!

Whew! Maybe in all that I’ll find time to blog, maybe not. But as I said, I have to re-evaluate my priorities, and unfortunately you dear readers are, as I’m sure you’ll understand, not at the top of that list. I do hope you keep reading though; whenever I get a chance to, I’ll write!

A Pedant's Rant

Once again, no time to blog, so here's a backdated article from Pugwash News Issue 17 (Oct 08) to keep you entertained. But I'd be remiss in my duty if I didn't put a plug out for the new website which I also write for: http://unbored.co.uk/ - managed by the inimitable Jack Clarkson who graduated last year! Check it out guys, and hopefully I'll resume normal programming soon!

As Copy Editor for UPSU student media, my job is to “red pen” – yes, it’s a verb - our website and magazine, as well as this fine publication. I have the task of translating Pugwash into English, finding every bit of missing or superfluous punctuation, and trying to make sure that not only is everything spelled correctly, but that it makes sense too. Before you brand me a complete nerd, let me explain that this is actually a legitimate job and that we’re everywhere in the world of publishing.

(Let me also iterate that I am very far from perfect, so please don’t email me nitpick-ly pointing out the few mistakes I’m sure I let slip. I’m only human, and you should see the text before I get my hands on it!)

Now, most people have a basic grasp of the English language, but stumble on all the different rules and refinements of it. After all, it is recognisably the most difficult and confusing language in the world. However, in this day and age, especially at University level, it is unacceptable (to my mind anyways) to not possess the ability to at least form coherent sentences.

I aim to use this space in Pugwash News to educate you about the proper use and eccentricities of the English language.

So, having explained myself, and probably having put half of you off before you’ve even got to the point of this article, let me introduce this week’s pet peeve: the misuse of the word “literally”.

This is a word that you never really think about using, yet seems to come up an awful lot in everyday conversation and is often seen gracing the public media. However, like the word “bastard”, its original meaning seems to have become skewed - either that or people just like using words that sound fancy without having any real idea what they are really saying.

To clarify, the word “literally” is defined as “using or interpreting words in their most basic sense”. Medusa in the old legends literally turned people to stone. It’s not a simile or a metaphor; she looked at them and they actually physically changed to stone.

So, if you are “literally dying with laughter” or if it is “literally a case of sink or swim”, you should be in the process of killing yourself with hilarity or standing in the middle of a large pond. You can be figuratively dying of laugher or find yourself in a scenario where you will either succeed or fail, but to be literally doing either would be a feat in itself.

So, the next time you tell someone your head is "literally about to explode", stop and think what you’re saying.

It may seem like I'm being a bit anal about all of this, but the point of language is being able to express yourself clearly and eloquently. English is the most beautiful and expressive language in the universe, and I hate to see it being used and abused and misunderstood. (And, like Frasier Crane, I don’t do this to be popular...)

Up Review

No time to blog properly today, but I didn’t want you few dedicated readers to feel neglected, so here’s a review of “Up” that I wrote for Issue 31 of Pugwash News:

Disney-Pixar films are something that I always anticipate highly, with the first trailers a year or more in advance showing great promise and inspiring speculation; and most of them live up to the gradual hype that surrounds them. I’ve seen every one in the cinema - no waiting apathetically for the DVD release here. So, when I went to see Wall-E with my sister and the teaser for Up was played, we both knew we couldn’t wait to see it. Her first visit to Portsmouth last weekend was a perfect opportunity to hit the cinema, pig out on popcorn, and see what all the fuss was about.

And I liked it. It was hilarious. But it didn’t quite meet my expectations. Firstly, it failed to inspire me visually as much as, for example, Cars or Wall-E had done in the past. Granted, it was the first time I’d seen it so I was focussing on the story, but the characters were blocky and awkwardly designed and the backgrounds were bog standard. The animation is clever, detailed and pretty, but it’s very obviously a cartoon, and it’s not stunning - at least not on the surface to the untrained eye. Pixar can do better, and I don’t know why they didn’t.

As for the story - well that didn’t meet my high standards either if I’m honest. Maybe it’s because I really couldn’t get past the illogical physics of the whole thing (an old man flies his house to South America by attaching it to thousands of helium balloons, and then spends the rest of the film dragging it along behind him...) Or maybe it was the fact that they had typical ‘bad guy’ dogs of a Rottweiler, a Doberman and a Bulldog, which is a massive pet peeve of mine (pardon the pun) and that bothered me every time they appeared. But for whatever reason, I couldn’t get as behind the story or the writing as much as I would have liked to. It started out promisingly, seemingly building to a spectacular climax, then it sort of, well, deflated.

This is the production company that brought us the likes of Buzz Lightyear, Mike Wazowski and Dory; but while Russell was endearingly chubby and eager and Carl was curmudgeonly and adventurous, I just couldn’t love them. They were funny and served their purpose, but I won’t be running to MacDonald’s for the free cuddly toy in the happy meal, if you know what I mean. (And I was astonished at just how fit a seemingly very elderly character was at times!) Meanwhile, the daft multi-coloured bird was amusing, but I couldn’t relate to why everyone made such a big effort to protect him.

The one exception to all this negativity is Dug, the literal shaggy dog character, who made the film for me. Whichever geniuses wrote his dialogue and animated his movements both got it spot on perfect in my humble opinion. He IS a Golden Retriever; a bit dim but well meaning, keen in every single thing he does, bouncy, bright and brave and totally devoted to making his masters happy. He’s the best canine character I’ve seen on the screen since Pongo and Shadow, and the people responsible clearly did their research and spent a lot of time around dogs while developing him. If only they were aware of the distance between small town USA and the heart of South America, and just how many balloons it would actually take to lift a house...

Don’t get me wrong - it’s a good film. It’s got an interesting plot, side-splitting humour both clever and slapstick-y and a heart warming depiction of an old man trying to finally live his dreams. If it were Dreamworks I would be giving it rave reviews. But I expect certain things from the Pixar studios, and I didn’t get them. I’m disappointed, and am now waiting for Toy Story 3...

Still alive, honest...

Wow, I have managed to go almost a whole month without blogging! I can only, once again, apologise for this and justify it by giving you a very brief rundown of what has been filling my time instead – perhaps you will forgive me once you realise that I literally have not had a spare second to bash out a post!

For the end of September it was mostly money making that kept me busy – the aforementioned eBay and Amazon sales, working the Debenhams call centre helpline for another week or so and spending four days registering folk at the university. There was also finishing up of the Pompey Guide, Pompey Ranger training, and preparations for Freshers’ Fayre. I had a few days where I indulged an awful mood and a massive bout of self pity over various issues; everything and nothing really, and it’s all mostly blown over now, apart from my dissertation issues which are another rant for another day! I also realised that I have had Marmalade and Tango (my invincible goldfish) for a whole year now, which is sort of impressive in a way; generally my gilled pets don’t last much longer than a few months.

And I finally bit the bullet and sat down and figured out this year’s budget. It’s not bad actually, but I will have very little “fun money”, so do try and talk me out of any purchases I try and make in your company! On the other hand, my lovely grandmother sent me a large cheque which I am planning to put in my ISA for emergencies only, which surely means I can buy as many DVD box sets as I like, since I’ll have something set aside to cover the bills, right...

So far the beginning of October has been, as to be expected at a university, very hectic. Freshers’ Fayre, my little sister starting uni, a visit from my parents, my own registration and induction process, Pompey Ranger-ing, friends, the first issue of Pugwash of the year and the first week of term have all eaten my days, and now it’s the 9th and I have no idea how it happened! This last fortnight has also brought a very interesting development in my personal life, which has thus far been nothing but an amazing thing, but I shan’t divulge the details here. Let’s just say that I’m enjoying it, and I hope it continues.

In the next few days, Claire is coming to visit, I’m going to see “Up” (hurrah!), and I have two uni assignments to be working on and a novel to read (already). Whew!

So I shall end this update post and go do some of it. Hopefully I’ll be back before November this time – hope all of you are well and thriving this season as I am!

Selfish Moneymaking Schemes

I have a confession to make; I didn’t write any letters the other day. Don’t worry, they’ll still find their way to you all in the end, but I got sidetracked and had my day eaten by the offer of free listings on eBay for a week. With a storage cupboard that wants emptying and a bank account that wants filling, I figured it was an offer I couldn’t refuse.

I only just ‘discovered’ eBay this summer. Every year I do a massive tidy up and clearout of my room/flat come the beginning of summer. At first this was inflicted upon me by my highly organised and clutter-hating mother, but as the years went by I began to see the genuine logic behind it. If you know what you have, and where you keep it, and what you’re missing, you save a lot of time and money searching for and purchasing things. And getting rid of things you don’t use, need or want anymore makes room for more exciting stuff!

Now, I freely admit that I ‘horde’ way more than I should do – a trait of my father’s that somehow survived despite the ardent spring cleans of my youth. But I can let go of most things eventually. Usually I just give the items that don’t make the cut away to charity, but this year I found myself particularly hard up, so I decided I’d at least try selling some of them before I passed them on. Incidentally, it’s amazing how much more willing I was to part with things once there was potentially money involved!

My first batch of sales, back in June, went well; managed to shift a fair few unwanted items and the admin process went relatively smoothly. Everything that didn’t sell went into a bag and I fully intended to donate it, but I just never got around to lugging it into town. So, when the offer of free listings came up, and with a few weeks still to kill before uni, I decided to give it all one last chance to sell, just to save my back you know... (As an aside, if you're selling books, movies or CDs or anything with an ISBN type number, you're financially much better off selling it on Amazon, I've discovered.)

Of course, I forgot how time consuming and fiddly the actual eBay listing process can be! Two long evenings later and I’m still not quite done. Admittedly this is because I kept letting myself get distracted, but it’s still taken a while. I hope to finish up the list tonight, and resume normal programming shortly. (And I will write letters/emails then, I promise, so continue to keep an eye out!)

I’ve actually once again scribbled this out by hand at work (busy, the Debenhams complaints line is not), and typed it up at home, otherwise I wouldn’t have had time to even blog today probably. It’s a pity I can’t manage my eBay account while I’m at work, as that would kill two birds with one stone! Anyways, I’m off to tend my inventory guys. Wish me sales and I’ll hopefully be back soon to report on my success.

I made it!

I didn’t realise that there was such a thing as blogger’s guilt – it’s the same sort of feeling you get when you haven’t replied to a chatty email, or haven’t called a good friend in ages. I have once again been neglecting my few devoted cyberspace followers, and I once again apologise. If it’s any sort of excuse, I have been working a lot, and I did spend one evening when I fully intended to blog indulging a bad mood instead.

You may be pleased to hear that I made it all the way through the Ramadan experiment without cracking once! The last two days were spent at work, so I didn’t focus on food so much, but I will admit that by the end of the last few days I was starting to feel a bit fuzzy headed and out of it – the way I always feel as a warning that if I don’t eat soon a faint is coming on. My Muslim friend came round on the second to last night and cooked me a lovely big dinner and we had a good long chat about how I had found it. He was a bit jealous I think, that I got to stop in 24 hours, and he still has a week or two to go. “You gonna do the whole month with me next year?” he asked, only half joking, and I had to admit that I didn’t really relish the idea. It was a fascinating week and I learned a lot, but I don’t think I’ll be rushing to inflict it upon myself again; I have a whole new level of respect for anyone that can and does keep it up the whole month, however, and I wish him the best of luck.

On the final day I had a two hour gap between jobs, during which a group of us Debenhams folk decided to go to Wetherspoons and get a big pub lunch. I was VERY tempted to give up early, especially since my breakfast had once again been very small and long ago. Some of them already knew about my experiment, while others were very confused when I just ordered water from the bar (bottled, with ice, may as well treat myself). So we got to talking about it. They were all curious about why I had chosen to undertake this and how I had found it, and seemed impressed with my efforts and dedication. “I couldn’t do it for love nor money,” said one of the girls just before the waiter came round and held a plate of scrumptious looking garlic cheese bread right under my nose...

The thing I was asked about most over the course of the week was weight loss, usually by my female friends, who were clearly working on the logic that less food must mean less weight. Weirdly enough, I actually gained! Not anything significant, but I weigh myself every morning as a habit, and it was defiantly creeping up incrementally. I suppose this is down to big meals late at night, or my body absorbing more from my meals because of the gaps between them, as well as less exercise due to the office job. But then my weight fluctuates anyway, so it might have just been a coincidence.

The other effect it had on me was on my wallet – it’s amazing how far my weekly budget can go when it’s not being spent on chai tea lattes here, a brownie there and expensive fizzy drinks. (I’m defiantly a Volvic convert, and will be choosing it over Pepsi more often in the future.) Of course I was still eating my evening meals, but I had stocked up the week before, so very little had to be bought in. And with less snacks consumed throughout the day, I had to spend less on them as well.

Apart from that, I’ve just been working and chilling really. Today is the first day off I’ve had all week, and tomorrow will be off as well, but after that I’m running around again until Friday! Oh to be young, working and sociable! I’m hoping to spend tomorrow letter-writing (to release some of that guilt), so if you’re expecting one keep an eye out for it, and if you’d like one let me know! Until next time guys, hopefully it won’t be long!

Fast Update, pun intended

I missed “breakfast” this morning. Classic case of hitting snooze and rolling over, forgetting that there is no snooze function on my mobile, and waking up a few hours later having missed my window of darkness. It’s now been almost 15 hours since I’ve had anything to eat and my stomach won’t stop complaining. Loudly. Thank goodness I’m not at work! On the other hand, I’m back to my original problem of thinking constantly about food, which is something that I haven’t had to deal with the past few days as my mind has been otherwise occupied.

Thus far, all things considered, my experiment is going well. As predicted, I despise the 4am ‘feedings’, mostly because the last thing my system wants at 4am is food – everything tastes dry and bland and I struggle to muster any enthusiasm for it. It’s also cold in my flat and my eyes sting in protest; “It’s 4am woman, you don’t want food, you want sleep and a warm duvet, go back to bed”. The texts from my Muslim friend help, solidarity and all that, but I definitely miss the days where I could sleep through the night uninterrupted.

Thursday morning I had strawberries all prepared to be eaten, but all I could face was a vanilla yogurt and a few brazil nuts. I crawled back to bed shortly after, wondering how I was going to get through the week. Work that night from 4 to 9 was long and hard and hungry and I had trouble concentrating. My break came to early to allow me to eat, but a kindly co-worker gave me a pack of Iced Gems to munch at my desk come 8 o’clock, which were delicious! I had chicken noodle soup when I got home to compensate, with crusty bread and yellow pepper slices, and a hunk of cheese and an apple as a midnight snack. I vowed I would make more of an effort to eat in the morning the next day.

And indeed I did – strawberries, an apple and a Terry’s Chocolate Orange bar (so sue me, I fancied it!) I also had my usual brazil nuts, which are my weird food habit I suppose: I religiously have 3 or 4 every day to help my immune system (apparently they’re loaded with selenium and vitamin E). Plus I just like them.

I had a bit of a dilemma in the afternoon - coffee with one of my lecturers to discuss a few things. Did I break the rules and have a cup of tea (which I would have loved), or did I stick to them and have to explain to him what I was doing and bear his judgement? But I had a brainwave: I pleaded Pugwash as an excuse (“I’m working on an article about religious understanding...”) and stuck to tap water, with ice. I can’t say that the sight of the coffee and jam tart he was having wasn’t making me ravenous (even though I don’t like either of those things), but I got through it.

Work again meant that I didn’t get to eat until I got home at half 9. I think my wok is one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten, and I used it to make a gloriously tasty (and needed) beef, mange tout, red pepper and cashew stir fry, with brown rice and a Galaxy bar to follow. Possibly due to the late hour, I surprisingly didn’t even contemplate my usual evening snack.

Yesterday I again had strawberries and chocolate for breakfast, plus nuts and, oddly, a small piece of cheese. My Muslim friend informs me that he gets up and makes pasta etc this early, which I can’t fathom, but my system clearly wanted salt that early on a Saturday, so I let it have some. I had to be at work from 10 til 6, which I survived pretty well, but I had another dilemma come lunch time. Did I go out with my co-workers and watch them stuff their faces while I craved joining in? Did I stay in the building and try to resist the lure of the numerous vending machines while I read the battered red top papers? Or, did I take a third, less conventional option, and take my Volvic lunch and go bug a certain Waterstones worker for an hour, avoiding the food issue completely? No prizes for guessing!

I got home at 7, and had to wait an hour before I could tuck into dinner; poached salmon, new potatoes, green beans and a tomato. I had a relaxed evening doing some paperwork in front of, ironically, back to back episodes of Come Dine With Me, before getting an early night.

But not early enough to stop me sleeping through my alarm! If I survive this evening, I will have completed more than half of my challenge, and will have just two days of ‘Ramadan’ left – wish me luck and stay tuned, and whatever you do don’t talk to me about chocolate!

Day One

Well, I survived my first day. Granted, I didn’t leave the house – was working my way through a book and a bunch of chores – but I personally think that made it harder as I tend to snack when I’m at home doing stuff, and I couldn’t today. I actually realised just how much I fixate on food when I have nothing else serious to occupy my mind, mostly because instead of a passing “hmm, I’d quite like some popcorn now” and then the move to get it there was a whole internal monologue of fancying something and denying myself, then massively craving something and still denying myself. I did think about food a lot today, but more out of habit than serious hunger. As per the real sprit of the thing, I tried to instead think about people who were hungry today because they had no choice; it helped, a bit, but I did begin to feel like Bono.

The weirdest thing for me was getting up at 4am to eat. I usually skip breakfast as a routine, especially when I’ve been actively woken up by an alarm rather than naturally, so to get up so early just to eat was quite a shock to my system to say the least. I didn’t really fancy anything, and even contemplated just rolling over and going back to sleep, but I knew I’d be hungry later and that if I was going to do this thing, it was worth doing right. So I dragged myself out of bed for a cup of tea (decaf), four brazil nuts, some strawberries and a very small bowl of Special K. I chose healthy stuff on purpose – I do have a history of eating nothing but crap for a few days and then passing out, so I’m trying to do my body right before I starve it.

My Muslim friend texted me at half four to remind me my eating time was almost up, and I duly finished my mug and crawled back into bed. I tried to spend some time on good and pure thoughts as the sun rose, but I have to admit I was asleep before I had the chance. I think I dozed off contemplating heading down to the seafront one day this week to actually watch the sunrise – something my friends and I have been saying we wanted to do for some time now. Don’t know if I’ll ever actually do it, but it’s a noble thought...

Once I genuinely woke up for the day at half 10, I instantly wanted a cup of proper tea and some chocolate – this is probably embarrassingly indicative of my usual habits. I poured myself a glass of water instead, which did nothing to get rid of my cravings. All day, I would have killed for just a small square of chocolate. A Galaxy was the first thing I broke into when darkness rolled around (but the fact that I lasted that long is indicative of my self control, right?) I kept a water glass full of ice and kept drinking whenever I felt a craving coming on – I’m going to try and wean myself off this, as it is technically against the rules and seems against the spirit of things as well.

Aside from the chocolate mania and the odd craving, I was mostly okay until about half 5 at night, by which point my breakfast was long forgotten and my tummy was turning its thoughts to dinner. By half 7, when I would usually be finishing my evening meal, I was in agony, and began my food prep, figuring that chopping up a few veg couldn’t count as cheating. At 8:00 on the dot, I sat down to the best steak, potatoes, carrots and green beans dinner I’ve ever had! Dessert was a Bournville – I know, I know, it’s a miracle I don’t weigh 1000 pounds – and an apple, and my evening snack was a bowl of popcorn and a small hunk of cheese. It’s now 1am, so I’m off to bed for three hours before I confuse my system even more by waking it up for food once again! Tomorrow I’ll be out and about and at work, so we’ll see if this makes the situation better or worse. Stay tuned guys!

Ramadan Rules

Well, I made it down to Portsmouth safely, and am now settled back enough that I can embark on a little experiment; I’m going to ‘do Ramadan’ for a week.

The reason I’m doing this is mostly a sort of journalist’s curiosity – one of my best friends is a Muslim and through talking with him about the experience I was intrigued. I am a devout atheist myself, as most people will know, so I’m not doing it for the religious experience so much as just to see if I can muster up the discipline. According to Wikipedia, Ramadan is supposed to be a time of “purification of body, thoughts and actions through self restraint and good deeds”, where one should “refrain from eating, drinking, smoking, or indulging in anything that is in excess or ill-natured”. Sounds like a noble cause to me!

So, from tomorrow morning until midnight on the 8th, I will be participating in the ritual fast, which dictates that I cannot eat or drink anything between sunrise and sunset. The sun begins to rise, according to my Muslim friend, at 4:40 am in Portsmouth, so my alarm will go off at about 4ish to allow me to get up and have some breakfast in the dark (I think this is the part of the whole thing I will least enjoy!). I can’t have anything else to eat then until 7:50 pm, which is when my friend tells me it will be dark. That’s almost 16 hours without food – which I have done before, I think, but not usually on purpose.

I’ll admit, I’m planning on ‘cheating’ ever so slightly. My bank balance and freezer already full of dinners means I’m not going whole hog and only sticking to Halal meat like I originally intended, though I will try to follow a vegetarian diet as much as I possibly can. I will however cut pork out of my life for a week. I’m also making a slight amendment given my history of fainting – I’m allowed to drink as much water as I like during the day (which my Muslim friend does not), and will still be taking my daily vitamin tablet, with my breakfast in the dark...sob.

The other thing my Muslim friend told me is that the enitre thing is more about self control and disipline than the actual act of abstaining, and he has specifically asked me to be on my "best behaviour" this week. I'm supposed to be "courteous and try my best not to swear". I've promised him to try my best to uphold those values.

I plan on keeping a diary of my experiences, and will try to devote the time to pure and generous thoughts rather than cravings of bacon, though I can’t make any promises! I shall keep you updated dear friends – wish me luck!

Just a(nother) quick update

Last time I was here (16 days ago) I chided myself for neglecting this blog, and I fully intended not to do it again. But, life happens, and while supplying my few fans with things to read was always on my to do list it just kept getting shoved to the bottom by more important things.

As it is, this will have to be a very brief fly-by posting, as I am on my sister’s machine at my parent’s house, which is quite possibly the slowest computer in history, if you discount my old ’98 IBM. (It’s actually the same computer I used for my 6th Year projects and essays, and all my computing needs during my gap year, so I’m quite fond of it in a way, but I do remember it being much faster then! Perhaps Claire, who adopted it when I received a shiny new laptop, has not been treating it so well.) Anyways, I logged on fully intending to end my email and Facebook checking session with a nice long blog, but that was over an hour ago, and frankly I’m sick of the waiting for things to load and the clicking/whirring/whining noise that the computer tower makes when its ‘thinking’, so you lot will just have to do without.

So, I shall give my news/highlights of the past two weeks in bullet points, and I promise to resume normal wordy programming when I’m back in the land of fast RAM and Tiscali broadband!

1) I lost my job at the Swine Flu line due to “lack of traffic” – it sucks as I needed the money, but I’m really not surprised at all!

2) I came home to Aberdeen for my birthday – was only supposed to be here for five days, but see above, under lack of job to return for, and so I ended up staying and mooching off the parents for an extra week.

3) Fleur came with me for the first week and we had a fantastic time.

4) Dad has been in Calgary (where spent the first ten years of my life) for work the past few weeks, and Mum and Claire have been home alone driving each other crazy. (Another reason for my extended stay is that he was given a week’s vacation to come back and see us all, and he’ll be going back til the end of September on Monday.)

5) Pepper is still as cute as ever, and we finally found a way to give him his wormer without him knowing – the dog is very clever when it comes to avoiding taking his medicine, and has been getting cleverer (and driving us up the walls) for the last four years, so this is big news in the Wilson household. (We’re sad, but it’s true!)

6) I turned 21!!! Aaaah!

And that’s about it! I really do promise to get back to proper blogging, both for the sake of my readers and my portfolio, soon. Until then!

Just a quick update

I have been neglecting this page. I do feel badly about that, since it defeats both purposes of having it – to keep people updated and to actually do some writing this summer!

But anyone who knows me will hopefully excuse this, as I have been crazy busy this past week and a bit. It makes a nice change, I must say, from the boredom of the past month,but I do wish I could find a happy medium instead of two extremes!

So, what have I been up to? Plenty, but nothing much of interest worth reporting! My days have been filled with friends, work on the Pompey Guide and busywork (those little everyday chores and ‘paperwork’ that just have to be done). My evenings have been spent either re-discovering Bewitched – seriously, why did I ignore those box sets for over a year? – or at work, being bored out of my mind!

It’s massively frustrating – my days are filled with lots of things to do and barely enough time to do them, but I then stop doing them and go to work, where I spend eight solid hours being idle. (I got the swine flu helpline job by the way, though “job” is stretching it a bit as I average one ten-minute call every two hours.) Most people would be glad to have a job where they were paid good money to do nothing, but most of us here agree that if it wasn’t for the pay we would have walked by now. There’s only so many ways to keep yourself amused in this place, and we’ve exhausted them all by now!

I’ve seen Kung Fu Panda at least six times (silent, with subtitles, and have yet to find it funny), read four trashy magazines (Cosmo and Glamour, old and new issues), beaten every level on Superstacker 2 and achieved a Tetris personal best (we have games and TV screens, but no internet or remote controls). I’ve also eaten a lot of vegetable sticks, apples, chocolate and Twiglets!

And that, dear friends, is the extent of the entertainment here at TLC – I say here because I’ve just discovered that you’re allowed a notepad and pen and am actually handwriting this at work, to be typed up later; yes, I am that bored! There’s very little to keep one amused. Unless, of course, you count my co-workers, who are a fascinating study of human behaviour.

There’s the carb-conscious, HTTP manual-reading fellow, who tries to convince me red peppers and daily vitamins are bad for me then goes and gets chips with curry sauce for dinner. And a medical student from Cardiff – who is CUTE with a capital Q by the way – who smokes and reads George Orwell. And a feminist who pounced on me when I toted out a Modern Studies approved statement about women simply being biologically disadvantaged when it came to inequalities in the workplace (apparently pregnancy is a pure myth invented by meek subservient women like me...) And a fellow who didn’t understand my joke about “drinking only to excess”, because he didn’t know what the last word meant. Et al – there are about 45 of us here at any one given time, so plenty of future novel fodder! Eclectic, fascinating, amusing; yes. Worth coming to work for; no (no offence guys!) But they help pass the time, and we’re all in the same boat.

Anyway, I sense I’m beginning to ramble. Just thought I’d surprise the few of you who care with a drive by update – I will try to do better in future, so please keep reading!

The Wisdom of Garth Brooks

A few nights ago, I decided to go for a walk. I found myself, an hour or so later, down by South Parade Pier, in tears. This was because my thought processes and my MP3 player had synched up to bring me a combination of memories and music that proved too potent for me to handle.

Thankfully, the random playlist function brought up another song by the same artist shortly after, which holds as much meaning for me, but in a much more upbeat way. I realised, walking back and listening to this song on loop, hoping to pump its philosophy into my brain by sheer repetition, that there are three songs by this one artist that always have an effect on me, and which have driven much of my life. (The song that made me cry, “Every Now and Then”, is not one of them, but it holds special meaning to me personally in other ways.)

These songs are all by the ever brilliant Garth Brooks (buy all his CDs, seriously, they are a wonderful treasure trove of beautiful music, poignant lyrics, and truth about life, love and rodeos). The three that everyone in the world should listen to are “The Dance”, “Standing Outside the Fire” and “The River”.

“Our lives are better left to chance; I could have skipped the pain, but I would have to have missed the dance.”

“The Dance” is supposedly Garth’s own personal favourite of his collection. On the surface, it’s about a breakup: a man who says he’s glad the relationship happened even though it hurt him, that the one good memory (the dance) was worth the pain. But it’s a fine philosophy for life. I have memories that are bittersweet, because the moment that was beautiful at the time has now changed in retrospect with events that came after. But if someone had come along that day and told me how any of it ended up, I could have run, and skipped that moment altogether. I would have missed out on a lot.

“We call them strong, those who can face this world alone, who seem to get by on their own; those who will never take the fall.
We call them weak, who are unable to resist the slightest chance love might exist, and for that forsake it all.”

“Standing Outside the Fire” is the song I was blaring on loop. It’s about how one should never give up on love (or anything), that unless you’re trying and taking chances each and every second you’re not really living life to the full. Yes, you will probably get burned once or twice, but it’s worth the risk. Life is not tried, it is merely survived, if you’re standing outside the fire. Say it with me...

“Too many times we stand aside, and let the water slip away, 'til what we put off 'til tomorrow has now become today. So don't you sit upon the shoreline and say you're satisfied; but choose to chance the rapids, and dare to dance the tide.”

“The River” is a song I have been listening to since I was six. Perhaps it influenced me subconsciously, I don’t know. But its message is such a huge part of how I see the world that it even made its way into one of my uni essays. You have to try every day to reach your ultimate destination, you have to weather out the storms and make what you can of your journey. I love the symbolism of life as a boat on a river – you have some control over where you’re going and how you get there, but ultimately there are a lot of things carrying you like a current in the direction you’re supposed to be headed.

I would highly recommend that you YouTube each of these songs, and take a minute to really listen to them. Possibly it’s just me that sees their charms, but I wanted to share them with the world. If I haven’t converted any of you to his genius yet, look up the music video for “More Than a Memory”. Then you’ll appreciate it – I hope. Till next time!

Musings on Graduation

I’ve been thinking about the future a lot lately - specifically that day in twelve months time when I get to don the silly hat and gown and (hopefully) conclude my time at university with a graduation ceremony. Now, anyone who lives in Portsmouth will know why this is, since it’s been hard to miss the hordes of proud parents and gradu-ees massing outside Guildhall for the past week. But, rather than get sentimental on the topic (save that for next year!), I’m going to share with you a small glimpse into the future, and the Wilson family, and tell you what I envision my graduation day will be like.

Right off, I can tell I’m going to have “shoe issues”. Boys can skip this paragraph, but girls will know exactly that I’m on about. In the daft gown, the shoes will really be the only fashion statement anyone can make, so the obvious choice is to go for gorgeous ones that stand out, while matching the purple ribbons on the garment. Buuut, that usually implies heels, and as anyone will know I am far from graceful at the best of times, let alone when I’m three inches taller and walking on the balls of my feet. So, it will be a catch 22 between pretty feet and not risking tripping and falling flat on my face!

But enough about my vain thoughts. I’m sure that shoe issues aside, it will be a day to remember always, a day of pride. For me, yes, but especially for my parents. My mother – who has always been my biggest fan and my harshest critic – will be there dressed in something colourful and bold, and will be fussing and fretting about where I need to be and whether I’m going to get there on time or not. She will take over a hundred photos – Laura in gown, Laura with Claire, Laura with course mates takes 1, 2 and 3, Laura with father, Laura with boyfriend, Laura with randomer who got too close, Laura with tree... – and appear in perhaps one, as a token gesture. Claire will be on her best behaviour, having had a roaring good fight with me the night before (over shoes, most likely), and we will drive our mother mad with our mucking about with the daft hat and quoting movies endlessly. She will have just finished her own First Year, and will no doubt be comparing the entire process to the way they do it in Bath. Dad will be quiet, secretly sad that I’m all grown up now and no longer his little girl, but also proud that everything he did to get me here really finally got me here. He will cry, but he will deny it.

My course mates and I, once free from the camera’s glare, will file into the hall, solemn and thoughtful. We will tune out midway through a dull speech by some person we’ve never heard of, and I will lean over to Fleur and say “We may not know where we are going on this ol’ river, but at least education has provided a map!” She will laugh, and the rest of the Creative Writing bunch will roll their eyes and just not ask because they know it’s an in-joke.

And, when it comes my turn to walk up to that dais and collect that piece of paper that cost me £10,000 and at least a few years off my life in levels of stress, a sound will emerge from the crowd. It will come from roughly the corner my family are sitting in, and it will sound something like “whuuooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo”. That is my mother, and all I will do is smile, because that is the same sound she made when I appeared as Mary in our pre-school nativity, when I danced as a duck in my ballet school’s version of Beatrix Potter and when I told her I had gotten an A in Advanced Higher English – it is the sound of her love and pride and years of endless nagging made worth it.

But, I still have one year to go before this joyous day, and a lot of ‘earning’ to do before I get that “whoo” (and diploma). Part of me cannot wait for graduation, but most of me wants it to come as slowly as possible. Bring on Third Year guys, I know we can do it!

Thank goodness for swine flu

OR: How media hype and paranoia may have gotten me a job in a recession

I was woken up this morning by my phone ringing. I went through the usual thought process of “hmm, something’s making noise – oh, it’s my phone – my phone! [fumble, grab] – hmm, not a number I recognise, never mind – ooh, wait, job-hunt, crap”, and answered with what I hoped was a very professional sounding “Hello”, but which probably came out more as an “ungh?”. A charming lady on the other end asked if she was speaking to a Miss Laura Wilson... How should I know, it’s nine am and you woke me up!

Anyways, by the time I was fully awake some moments later, I realised that I was actually midway through a phone interview for a job with the telephone listening company (who, by the way, have had my CV since sometime in March or so...). I hung up having arranged a proper interview for tomorrow, where I’ll hopefully be much more eloquent and awake, and a huge ironic smile on my face. That’s because my specific job, so they tell me, will be manning the new dedicated NHS Swine Flu Helpline. That’s right, I will be the calming voice on the other end of the line trying to convince you that the slight cough you’ve picked up is really nothing more than that.

So, thank goodness for swine flu? Or rather, should I say, thank goodness for hypochondriacs and mass media hype. If it wasn’t for the combination of the two over, what is, let’s face it, little more than a cold, I might not have been offered a job this summer – and I’ll be really honest, I needed one, both for the salary and to cure what was looking to become a very bad bout of intense boredom.

Now, I have no pretentions that this won’t be the dullest job in history. But at least it is a job, which will get me out of the house and associating with the big wide world. I would argue there’ll be some entertaining moments, and anything can always be considered fodder for “that novel I’ve been working on”. And I only have to commit to it for four weeks minimum, so I can always cut and run if it gets dire. Can’t wait to report back to Trudy Barber on this one...

Wish me luck tomorrow; I’m off to bone up on my swine flu facts! :P

Dangerous dogs or lousy owners?

In the spirit of laziness, and as promised, I give you not a new blog entry, but rather an article by me that was published in Pugwash News Issue 25 (25th Feb 09), on the topic of the dangerous dogs debate. Anyone who knows me will be aware that this is one of my few “hot button” topics, which will get me arguing passionately any time anywhere; to the point where I once attacked a guest at one of the McDougall dinner parties over the issue! This article barely begins to say what needs to be said on the topic, but I think it covered it pretty well in the space Jacob was willing to give me. Enjoy!

Two unrelated but sadly similar incidents occurred recently that have spurred me to put fingers to keyboard and type furiously.

Before I go any further with my views on the dangerous dogs debate, let me state emphatically what sensible people have been repeating, mantra like, for years: there is no such thing as a dangerous dog, only an irresponsible owner.

The first of the unfortunate incidents was the death of a baby, “mauled by the family dogs”, as the news put it. Now, I am not heartless – I feel for this poor family and do indeed believe this is a tragic occurrence. But it could have been avoided. To my mind, the headline should have read “Idiot grandmother leaves small baby alone with excitable untrained dogs”.

The dogs were put to sleep shortly after. This is the typical knee jerk reaction after an event like this: blame the dogs, not the people who left their children alone with the dogs, who didn’t train their dogs in the first place, who probably left the dogs with few other outlets for their energy. I’m not saying the dogs were completely innocent in this case, merely that they are not entirely to blame either.

If you do not have the time or knowledge to properly care for a pet, you should not have one. If you have a small flat with no garden, you really have no right owning a large hyperactive dog, especially if you do not take the time or trouble to exercise it, both physically and mentally. If you do not do your research, or put effort into training and socialising your pet, you deserve every problem behaviour they throw at you. I’m generalising, and being quite harsh, but this is how I feel. When I run away and start my own country, there will be a dog license that all potential canine owners have to qualify for before they are allowed anywhere near puppies with big ‘love me’ eyes,

The second inciting incident was that an acquaintance of mine had his cat attacked, unfortunately, by a Staffordshire Bull Terrier. He started on the typical rampage of how these ‘devil dogs’ should all be culled, which forces me to tote out that other age old chant: blame the deed, not the breed. Yes, Staffies and Rotties and other such dogs have a reputation of being nasty – this is because of their history (long since made irrelevant), the media portrayal of these breeds as macho, and ignorant people who want to look tough perpetrating this image by buying these breeds, raising them improperly and with violence, and then being shocked when they bite. It’s a vicious circle.

But, in fact more people are bitten by Jack Russells than any other breed. Staffies are one of only three breeds actually recommended by the Kennel Club as being good with children. There are Rotties and Dobermans who are being trained as Guide Dogs, who visit people in old folks’ homes, who are the most placid and sweet animals you could ever meet. These dogs are not dangerous. Any dog, any time, anywhere has the potential to bite – so just as you cannot assume that all Muslims are terrorists, you cannot assume that just because a dog is of a certain breed that it is ‘evil’.

Most dog bites occur because the animal is frightened, and feels backed into a corner where they have no other option. Often the dog has been sending out “that’s actually really annoying me, please stop” signals for some time beforehand, but they have been ignored or mis-read by the human in question. The growl is the last in a long line of warning signals, but it is often the first one we take notice of. A little understanding of the way a dog’s mind and body language works goes a long way towards a happy, healthy and bite-free relationship.

I’m skimming the issue, but I hope some of the points I’ve raised with make you think. The next time read something in the press about a dog attack, or a ‘dangerous’ breed, don’t jump on the anti-dog bandwagon right away. Try to see through the media hype. I’ll say it again, and I will be saying it until the day I die: there is no such thing as a dangerous dog, just an irresponsible owner.

More Pugwash related ramblings

One of my faithful readers posed a question to me the other day: what exactly did I do for Pugwash to earn that hypothetical money I was trying to back claim?

Well, to quote my CV: “...meeting deadlines, working within a diverse team and problem solving are all things that this volunteer position require me to do on a regular basis. It involves proofreading, content creation and editing, team management and also a high level of dedication and commitment, as well as a mastery of the English language and intimate knowledge of our Style Guide. I occasionally edit articles for Pugwash Online, and also regularly proofread and manage content for Pugwash Magazine, working closely with all three Publication Editors and our Media Officer on a regular basis.”

I think that statement sums it up, but it’s a bit like being asked to describe a typical day as a zookeeper – there is no ‘typical’, no formal job description. I liaise, I organise, I write, I extend or cut articles to fit, I research, I proofread, I double check the style and design. Every article, page and issue is unique and they all throw up their own tasks and tests. It’s stressful and challenging and as we grow and develop and improve each problem solved is replaced with a new one to be tackled. We are all learning from it all the time.

But, I also eat pizza and M&Ms, make bad ‘your mum’ jokes, yell “amphra-fucking-sand” at Pete, roll my eyes at Tom’s choice of tunes and Jacob’s singing, play about with markers and get mocked for trying to talk reason to the Macs. Like NIAD before it, when I look back at the time spent in the Pugwash office, I will think not of the stress and the annoyances (much!), but instead of the experience I gained and the people I gained it with.

One of my self-inflicted projects for the summer is to go through every issue of Pugwash we’ve ever produced, and collect all the articles I’ve written into a portfolio of sorts. I started this afternoon, and was astonished by the amount of words I have churned out on UPSU’s behalf, and the steady changes between Issue 1 and Issue 29. Keep an eye out for some of the articles appearing here in the future, but for today all I have to offer (besides the reflection above) is a collection of my editorials over the past two years. You can find them collated here: http://tinyurl.com/nog5bq

I personally find them interesting, as they trace Pugwash’s development and remind me how far we’ve come – and make me keen to spend the next year making it go even further.

Until next time guys – I promise to return to non-Pugwash thoughts soon!

Pugwash owes me money!

As a follow up to a 90 minute meeting yesterday, I just spent an hour sending out emails about the upcoming Pompey Guide, and I got to thinking about how much time and effort I’ve put into Pugwash over the last two years. Now, I’m not complaining; yes, it has driven me crazy sometimes, but it’s also been very fulfilling, and I’ve learned a lot.

But I got to doing some math, and the numbers shocked me. With lack of a better blog topic in mind, here goes...

I would say Pugwash business takes, on average, half an hour a day, and that’s probably rounding up on a general basis. So that’s 3.5 hours a week. Times 52 weeks a year – and yes, we do work holidays – that’s 182 hours a year, approximately. And I've been doing it for two years now.

But every fortnight during term time we put out a newspaper, which eats an entire weekend of my time at once. Call it, roughly estimated, 22 hours per issue. We’ve put out 27 issues since I got involved, one of which I had nothing to do with. So, 22 hours x 26 issues = 527 hours devoted to the paper.

And, we put out a magazine every now and again. I think last year we had five issues, and this year we did four, plus a special issue for new students. I would say the magazine takes, on average, three or four hours of my time at once. So we’ll call it 3.5, and that means that I’ve spent 35 hours working on the magazine over the last two years.

So, when we include regular time doing admin stuff etc, the fortnightly newspapers and the magazine, Pugwash has eaten a total of 926 hours of my life since October 2007, roughly. (Which is vaguely depressing, when you put it in those terms!)

Now, Pugwash is strictly a volunteer organisation, and none of us are paid. But, if they had paid me for my work, even at a minimum wage of £4.77 (for 18 – 21 year olds), they would owe me...drum roll please...

£4417.02!!!

At least! I know it’s not a liveable salary by any means, but it’s not small change either, and, I’ll be honest, I could use it. Who do I see about a back payment claim for volunteer work? :P

Until next time, faithful readers!

The end of an era

“Somebody sold out, thinking they could walk away,
But someday you’re just gonna have to say:
There’s no trespassing on this land...”
No Trespassing – George Fox

Today is a sad day in the Wilson family history; they’ve finally made good their plans and started construction on the next lot of Stuart Milne houses. So what you say? Well, it means that today I took Pepper for our last ever ‘field walk’.

The three scrubby fields behind our house can hardly be described as picturesque, nor was there anything particularly special about them. They were just spaces that a farmer didn’t deem fit for his cattle, and so allowed locals to walk their dogs in. I think every dog in Westhill has, at some point in their lives, christened the grass there. Over the years, a regular and familiar path has been worn down by the hundreds of dedicated dog owners.

Pepper was one of the more frequent visitors. We are fortunate enough to live less than two minutes away from these fields, so the entire walk can be done off lead and at his leisure. This is a great alternative to his rainy day walks, which, if I’m honest, do strain the patience of the person on the other end of the lead, left standing in the rain while Peps examines lamp posts thoroughly and ambles along. I prefer to take him on a nice long field walk, and do daily when I’m home unless it’s tipping down, in which case the mud just gets a bit much. I put on the MP3 player and contemplate the world, he sniffs and snuffles in the long grass and then runs to catch up when I call.

So, today I set off as usual, only to discover that my path was blocked five minutes in by a newly erected fence. I sighed; it had begun. Today, aside from that one section, all that invaded our space were fence posts, but I have no doubt they’ll be along to fill in the gaps only too soon. Within a few days even, the fields will be closed off to us, and every other dog walker in Westhill, forever.

Now, we’ve known this was coming for almost three years. And we can’t complain – after all, ten years ago the house that I’m writing this in didn’t exist, and I’m sure someone somewhere mourns the loss of the space it occupies. When I was up in May, some surveillance holes had been dug and some dirt and gravel piled up in a corner of the bottom field, but I didn’t think that would lead to action so soon. I know it’s a minor event in a world of progress, but this affects me and something I enjoy – it makes me sad to think that corporate greed has put an end to this simple pleasure.

I still remember Peps’ first walk in those fields. I know a collection of dogs by name and the sight of their owner because we all happen to walk at the same time. That was where I took the picture of Pepper that I carried with me on holidays and the first few weeks of uni. I’ve danced those fields in happiness (they’re fairly empty in the middle of a weekday, and I forget that the rest of the world can’t hear what’s in my headphones), ran them in anger and walked them in tears. They represent a big portion of the last four years, and when I miss home, I think I miss long dog walks in them the most.

I know there’s nothing I can do, and that there will be other walks, but it still makes me sad. So, appreciate what you’ve got while it’s there, because you never know when progress will come along and start building fences!

All new; hopefully improved

Right then, I’ve booked my ticket back to Portsmouth (I get in the 9th if anyone cares), and I have an announcement to make. I’ve been thinking a lot the past few weeks about who I am and who I want to be and how I run my life and all that palaver, and I’ve come to a number of decisions.

Therefore, the Laura you be greeted by when you next see me will be the all new, hopefully improved, model. She’s figured out her finances and drawn up a to do list to keep her occupied; she’s resolved to be healthier and happier and change some things; and she’s decided which problems to address head on and which ones aren’t worth worrying about. She’s prioritised her life, stocked up on sanity and is all fired up to face the next challenge, whatever that may be.

It may sound like New Years-esque fluff, but I have all the best intentions I assure you. She’ll still be crazy, paranoid and over emotional; she’ll still freak out over little things, live in fear of mice and wasps and failure; and she’ll definitely still need you lot to pull her up again when all this new attitude gets worn away. But for now, here she is.

It’s been a tough nine months. One big thing knocked me down in a gully, and every time I tried to climb out of it something else grabbed my ankles and hauled me back down. I’m not blaming that one thing for all my problems, it’s just a metaphor. But I’ve been doing the self psychology for dummies thing, and I can tell you that that was most likely the beginning. Well, actually the move from Canada when I was 10 was the beginning, but we all have way better things to do than re-hash my entire life! The breaking point was the day I bought my ticket home.

The last time I was this low I was 16. I was in a social situation that largely wasn’t working, and the effort of trying to make it work was draining me dry. I couldn’t cope with my classes and assignments, and I had no idea where I wanted to be going with my life. Other things were going on too – things I don’t wish to discuss here because very few people know about them. But they weren’t un-connected to the stuff everybody saw. It was 16 year old Laura who very nearly broke down and gave up – but it was 17 year old Laura who pulled through, made a few huge changes, and got the grades to get herself into the university she wanted. She was the one who got a job, made a plan, and finally found some functional relationships. She’s the person I had to come back here to find, warts and all.

It’s been four years, and as an older model there are certain features that needed replaced or updated, but thanks to the time lapse I had the parts in stock. She’s been matured, shined up and looked after, and now she’s ready for duty. (Now there’s a tortured metaphor!)

There’ve been personal and professional problems this year, family worries and friend woes. I’ve struggled to cope with university work and I’ve had a few days where I struggled to even find a reason to get out of bed. And not all of those problems have gone away, just I’m now more ready to face them than I was before. This break has been good – I’m now in place where I can go back and deal with things objectively. It’s been a stressful and emotional and hard year and no doubt the next one has some awesome issues to throw at me, but I’ll survive.

There may be aspects of new Laura you don’t like – for example, she has decided that she’s not taking any bullshit off of anybody anymore, and she’s not going to pretend that things don’t bother her when they really do. Nor is she going to pull any punches if the truth is what is required. From now on it’s the real deal, all or nothing, and if you don’t like it, tough. To coin a phrase, she is now a bad-ass mother, who won’t take no crap off of nobody!

She’s re-read Don’t Shoot the Dog by Karen Pryor, and re-committed herself to following its excellent advice. She is a duck, and the world ought to just be water off her back – to follow other advice given by a surprising source.

I’m not really sure what I’m trying to say with this blog, so I’ll stop waffling. The long and short of it is like this: I was hanging out with an old school friend today, and he told me I had changed. I answered “Yeah, I have”. Time and life does that to a person, but it’s up to you if you change for the better or if you just let it wear it you down. I know what I’m picking, this time around. Bring it on world, I’m ready for ya!

Greetings from Scotland!

Greetings all from up North – I’ve come home for a last minute sort-your-life-out trip of unspecified duration. This will not be the most amazing entry I’ll ever come up with, but I figured I may as well keep you updated. Sorry once again for neglecting you (the few of you that care) but see above, under life sorting...

Various things have happened in the past week. First I discovered that I CANNOT play pool. Then I had a busy few days being suddenly popular in that way one usually is when one announces that one is going away for a while.

I had a blood-pressure-raising trip home, which involved one over-large suitcase (I will learn how to pack some day), six trains, and cost me £141 more than it ought to have done. National Rail are getting a letter of complaint, and I would like to take this opportunity to once again thank sensible old Mel, not only for stopping me from killing the pedantic little wotsit who is to blame, but for ignoring my spectacular pratfall in the middle of London Kings Cross station when I went to angrily kick a bin and missed!

Once I eventually got home, I bummed about and enjoyed the family’s brief presences. I toyed with the idea of getting a puppy for my 21st, fell out with a friend over the issue, and finally was informed today by the universe that “my” dog just isn’t out there at the moment. We confirmed once and for all that Pepper is not my dog, but does in fact belong to...my sister... And no, I have no idea how we came to that conclusion, given that this time five years ago she was sitting across from me at breakfast sobbing “I- don’t- want- a- dog”, but there it is.

This weekend I went into town with mum and shopped with her money, which is always more fun than shopping with an empty wallet, and yet I still only came home with one skirt. (Not for lack of trying things on though – since when did “denim shorts” mean “hot pants”, and why are all the denim skirts in the stores uncomfortably short - or am I the only one who minds flashing the edge of my knickers when I bend over? Or do I just need to lighten up and purchase smaller pants to go with said smaller skirt, and embrace the trend that seems to assume everyone in Portsmouth wants to see my bum...? Answers on a postcard please, and bless the dear old Gap for still stocking denim skirts in Laura-acceptable lengths!)

On Sunday we took the dog for a nice castle walk in the sun – Scotland seems to actually be getting a summer this year, miracle of miracles, and I knew it would cos I didn’t bring my capris! It was a classic lazy day just like way back when I still lived at home, and was very good for restoring the morale. My mother, bless her, even flirted with the waiter...

Today I nipped to the eye docs to confirm that I still very much need glasses. I did this on my battered old bike, and I also discovered that that particular muscle group was long overdue for a workout! I also remembered why the sister and I stopped going for bike rides – when one lives on the top of a hill, the way out is great fun, but the way home is taxing!

Tomorrow the sister is off work, finally, so hopefully I’ll get to spend some long overdue time with her. In fact, I shall leave this very fascinating blog entry to go watch some American Dad with her, I think.

Hope all is well down South. I hope to be back soon, watch this space!

Relationship CVs

Hey there, sorry it’s been a while, I did mean to be updating this thing every other day, but let’s just say that banks and a minor bout of self pity got in the way! But I’m back now, with all the best intentions.

Two recent conversations with friends have prompted today’s blog thought...

The first conversation was over Frankie and Benny’s a few weeks ago with a group of friends. We were talking about a recent ‘small world’ moment that I had had, where I discovered that a jerk I recently dated had also dated a friend of a friend, and treated her in a similarly appalling manner (which is, in itself, another story). If only, we said, I had talked to this other girl before I had gotten involved with the guy, temporary misery might have been avoided. We decided that the idea of dating references might be, theoretically, a wonderful idea, and that any potential future mates should provide them before so much as a cup of coffee is to be had in their company.

I know what I would write for my exes. Most of what I said would be complimentary or indifferent – except of course, for the above jerk’s – with a few simple points of annoyance highlighted. Certain boys might rate more highly than others, but overall I don’t think anyone would be ashamed to ask me to be their referee. In fact, I kept myself amused one whole dish-washing session by composing said references in my head – just ask if you’re interested, guys!

Overall, my friends and I decided that dating references would be a good thing, and would probably save us all a lot of time, money and hassle.

But then we got to thinking – what would our exes say about us? Especially the ones that we broke up with, rather than the other way round... What feelings might come to the surface; what things would we learn that we perhaps could have lived without discovering? Would they agree with our fragile ‘looking-back’ analysis of the relationship, or have a completely different take on the entire affair? Again, I like to think I know what most of them would say, and that, for the most part, it would be good, but if I have learned anything about human beings it’s that we’re a complex bunch, who all see things differently. Suddenly the idea of a dating referee system didn’t seem so wonderful after all.

But the second conversation, had just a few days ago with someone (who finally texted me back), raised the issue once again. It prompted me to wonder if maybe we shouldn’t all just have dating CVs which we hand out on the second date. Previous boyfriends, experiences and skills gained, reasons for leaving etc; if everyone told the truth it would probably give you a very accurate sketch of their character, and a few heartaches could hopefully be avoided if you were wise.

Now, the reason we were having this conversation – aside from the fact that, well, he asked – was partly due to the nature of the modern dating scene. I have friends whose ‘tallies’ range from 1 to 30, and numbers 2 to 31 will most likely be morbidly curious to know who was there before them, and if they left anything, emotional or otherwise, behind. There’s also the issue of moving in certain social circles, and the potential awkward revelation that they know someone you dated previously – or worse! This is where the ‘CV’ comes in.

Over the course of this conversation, I found myself listing and describing my (ahem) partners in ‘100 words or less’, as it were. It was like that scene in Four Weddings and a Funeral, where Andie McDowell is making Hugh Grant’s character choke on his coffee as she rattles off a list of her conquests. Granted, mine is nowhere like hers in length or diversity, but there it was in black and white; numbers, names, details, former partners, boyfriends and mistakes.

It was entertaining, as an exercise, and interesting, to say the least, as a conversation. Think about it. What would your dating CV reveal? If you had to give a reference for a former partner, or even a friend, what would you say? What would people write about you? For me, just thinking of it in such terms means I can identify my mistakes and learn from them. That said, it’ll probably be a long time before my personal CV reaches more than a page in length!

Which is more than can be said for this blog entry... I shall leave you there readers, and hopefully be back soon with more interesting topics of contemplation!

Well, here goes...

The last time I wrote a blog post was when I was 16. I had one of those MSN pages, and the content was largely along the lines of: “I love my puppy. School was interesting today. Going to the movies at the weekend. Wah, that cute guy from Chemistry hasn’t texted me in a while.” I can’t promise that this one will be much different; after all, I DO love my puppy (even though he’s now four and half), life is interesting, and the current cute guy actually hasn’t texted me in while either... So you were warned.

Buuut, I have found myself with less and less things to do over the past three weeks, and as I have yet to land myself a job and I want to continue to stretch my writing muscles over the summer, I figured I’d give this a try (thanks for the idea Samwise!) Worst case scenario, I end up talking to myself...

Which seems to make the apparently obligatory “A little bit about me” first post somewhat redundant, but on the off-chance that anyone out there is listening, I figured I may as well give it a go.
I am a crazy Canadian currently about to go into my third year of English & Creative Writing at the University of Portsmouth. I absolutely adore my degree, and am apparently fairly good at it as well. I want to be a published author one day, and am aiming to go into either the sitcom or publishing business when I graduate, to pay the bills. (Shameless self plug: read my fiction writing at www.fictionpress.com/~laurapatricia)

My dreams and self integrity are very important to me. The way I see it, you’re only with other people a small portion of your day, but you have to associate with yourself 100% of the time, so why be someone you don’t like? I am who I am, and I won’t change that for anyone.

I am fiercely protective of my friends, who are also very valuable to me. You know who you are, and why I love you. Mess with them, and you will have a small feisty brunette to mess with too.

I am a massive dog nerd – I don’t just love them, I love to read and learn about them, and Crufts really is the highlight of my year. If I wasn’t doing my degree I would be pursuing a career in Canine Behaviourism, and I still might if it turns out I’m a terrible writer after all! If I was breed of dog I would be some sort of terrier; no one ever told me that I’m small, I’m stubborn, tenacious, adorable, clever and loyal, and I won’t start fights, but I can finish them!

I’m also a Seth MacFarlane nerd, if such a thing exists – the man is nothing short of a genius. I know most people like Family Guy, but for me it is an (admittedly almost unhealthy) obsession. I watch the shows, I quote the shows, I listen to the commentaries, I watch the shows again. I have only recently gotten into American Dad, but I adore it almost as much – and the people there won my undying devotion when they sent me three of their screenplays!

I’m the Editor of our uni newspaper, Pugwash News, and have been involved in UPSU Media since pretty much day one down here. Little did I realise when I attended that meeting during Freshers’ week that it was going to become my ‘second degree’, provide me with some of my key university companions and eat most of my life! I love it and hate it at the same time, but it’s become a huge part of who I am down here.

I’m the middle of three sisters. Jill is the elder (technically a half sister, but we’re tight); she lives in Canada with her boyfriend and two daft cats. Claire is 18 and is going to be starting Structural & Architectural Engineering at Bath in October. She is my best friend, my quoting machine, my sanity saver and sometimes my greatest annoyance, and I cannot imagine my life without her. My parents are still together - Dad is a Geologist and Mum has an MBA and writes Offshore Training Standards. We have a family dog, who is a Norwich Terrier called Pepper. He is THE most adorable thing on the planet, and also the best behaved dog you could ever imagine. I love him. Told ya that was going to come up!

On that note I will leave blog-land for now. No doubt I’ll be back shortly with musings on the state of the job market, anecdotes about wacky friends and rants about silly boys...and much more Pepper love no doubt! Stay tuned guys, and thanks for reading! :)