I attended the AU summer ball a few days ago. Now, the first thing that needs to be said here is that it was snowing... snowing... at the SUMMER ball...
What the fuck England?
Seriously, I don't know what goes on with our weather.
Anyhow, my attendance at the ball... It's called a ball, but just to get this cleared up it's basically like a school prom crossed with an awards ceremony and you get to drink... you REALLY get to drink.
Now, I made the mistake of deciding that I'd do a week of non-drinking that week and forgot that it was the ball... needless to say my declaration of non-drinking didn't last very long. I got through an entire pitcher of some fruity cocktail before they'd even served the starter... and another by the time I'd finished pudding... I was pretty far gone by that point, mind, and I'd not even done pre-drinks, so I stuck to WKD for the rest of the night. I still managed to be one of the most sober people there.
So, truth be told there weren't many zany antics. Okay, I was with archery and we were sat right next to men's rugby, and damn you could tell they were wasted. I think most of them probably left fairly early, mind, but you could hear them all of the way through the meal.
The archery folks didn't drink too much, but there were a couple the looked like they were about to fall over...
And one of my blockmates was so drunk she fell asleep at the table fairly late into the night... I drew on her face with eyeliner... and took a photo, which will be going up on facebook when I get around to it...
We somehow ended up playing pass-the-pirate-hat, which really seems to happen just about any time I where a hat anywhere... My outfit, despite being one of the least formal that could be let in (I was wearing a pirate hat, for Pete's sake) actually went down pretty well. So that was nice. I'm generally not bothered with clothes and things, but I have my moments of dandyism and as a self-proclaimed prince-charming-in-training it's of the utmost importance that I look spiffing at the ball... and I did not seriously just say that. Dear lord, should I ever graduate from this fairytale prince academy I seem to have enlisted myself in I shall shake in fear of whatever shall become of the world...
Wednesday 27 March 2013
Archery Update
So, I still suck at archery (and also fencing and quidditch and just about everything else, mind) but I've grown to accept that. But that's not what this update is about. No, this update is about just how easily amused I am.
Earlier in the week, one of the lads let another fresher (actually not myself) use his arrows. His £10 a piece arrows. I think we can guess where this is going...
You have no idea how glad I am that that wasn't mine (nor my doing).
Even more easily amused am I, I got one of my own arrows stuck in the boss, and it took a fair it it out with it when I finally got it out. Now, this isn't an uncommon occurrence, because really layers of foam sheets aren't the sturdiest of materials, but it's actually the first time this has happened to me. Besides, I kind of like having proof that I can hit the target instead of the wall.
And, just to make this whole thing rather awkward and uncomfortable, I got a lift back to dorms from archery and it turns out one of the girls there lived in my room last year... and promptly informed me that she'd had sex in my bed...
Now, I wasn't so naive as to think such things hadn't happened in the bed that I now sleep in, but I was trying really hard to pretend I was, and doing a fairly good job of it until now. Well, there goes my denial :\
Note: Forgot to press post, silly me, and I have a backlog of post to get up now :p
Earlier in the week, one of the lads let another fresher (actually not myself) use his arrows. His £10 a piece arrows. I think we can guess where this is going...
Even more easily amused am I, I got one of my own arrows stuck in the boss, and it took a fair it it out with it when I finally got it out. Now, this isn't an uncommon occurrence, because really layers of foam sheets aren't the sturdiest of materials, but it's actually the first time this has happened to me. Besides, I kind of like having proof that I can hit the target instead of the wall.
And, just to make this whole thing rather awkward and uncomfortable, I got a lift back to dorms from archery and it turns out one of the girls there lived in my room last year... and promptly informed me that she'd had sex in my bed...
Now, I wasn't so naive as to think such things hadn't happened in the bed that I now sleep in, but I was trying really hard to pretend I was, and doing a fairly good job of it until now. Well, there goes my denial :\
Note: Forgot to press post, silly me, and I have a backlog of post to get up now :p
Saturday 23 March 2013
Baby Steps
So, I've through my various internet profiles and begun making changes. Nothing big, just changing the gendered pronouns over. It's not that big a step, if I'm honest, and to anybody else they probably haven't even noticed.
But it feels much bigger.
I've been to see the GP, too, which is a much bigger step, and I'm waiting for a referral to a gender clinic. That's a really big step. It's a huge, huge step. It's like a giant leap, and for all my seeming need to constantly keep moving, I don't do giant leaps. I can do baby steps, they're easy. I can do baby steps because I know exactly where I'm putting my feet, but bigger steps and it becomes harder to know where you're going to land. I don't like not being the one in control, and I don't like not being the one with the power, which right now I'm not. I go the the gender specialist when I get my referral and things start moving out of my hands, and I don't like that.
I probably wouldn't be writing any of this if I thought more than a couple of people would ever read it. I don't like looking weak, and even I will have to begrudgingly admit I look pretty weak right now, but I guess it's just one of those things. By this point, things really are moving out of my control, even if it's really only just a little, and I guess I'm going to have to to accept that and take that as it comes. I won't lie, I don't like that, but I can give up a little bit of control for this. It'll all be worth it in the end, I'm sure.
But it feels much bigger.
I've been to see the GP, too, which is a much bigger step, and I'm waiting for a referral to a gender clinic. That's a really big step. It's a huge, huge step. It's like a giant leap, and for all my seeming need to constantly keep moving, I don't do giant leaps. I can do baby steps, they're easy. I can do baby steps because I know exactly where I'm putting my feet, but bigger steps and it becomes harder to know where you're going to land. I don't like not being the one in control, and I don't like not being the one with the power, which right now I'm not. I go the the gender specialist when I get my referral and things start moving out of my hands, and I don't like that.
I probably wouldn't be writing any of this if I thought more than a couple of people would ever read it. I don't like looking weak, and even I will have to begrudgingly admit I look pretty weak right now, but I guess it's just one of those things. By this point, things really are moving out of my control, even if it's really only just a little, and I guess I'm going to have to to accept that and take that as it comes. I won't lie, I don't like that, but I can give up a little bit of control for this. It'll all be worth it in the end, I'm sure.
Sunday 17 March 2013
Three day post
I couldn't open the Lambrini bottle, so I had to open it with my teeth. I strained my jaw, and that's going to be wonderful to try and explain in the morning. What a brilliant start to my night.
I seem to be starting a new project. Specifically, an actually serious attempt at an urban fantasy, rather than my more typical everything-I-write-is-a-piss-take approach. This is going to end badly, I'm sure. I'll just drink through the whole things and add little bits
Well, so much for that. I hit a wall pretty quick. I don't really do serious writing.
Have decided to take a nap, and it's now the next day. I wasn't kidding when I said I don't do serious writing.
have now been to bother the poor creative writing folks (all three that were there, anyway. Most of us have better things to do on a Saturday), having gotten a great whopping one chapter to show them. I think I'm beginning to remember why all of my writing is piss-takes again. I do not do serious.
Been a few more hours, nothing has been done, and I somehow managed to spill alcohol on my bed :(
Okay, this entry has so far spanned a total of three days. Over those three days, I've gotten no writing and no work done. I should probably do something with myself at some point...
And drink less. I really need to drink less.
I seem to be starting a new project. Specifically, an actually serious attempt at an urban fantasy, rather than my more typical everything-I-write-is-a-piss-take approach. This is going to end badly, I'm sure. I'll just drink through the whole things and add little bits
Well, so much for that. I hit a wall pretty quick. I don't really do serious writing.
Have decided to take a nap, and it's now the next day. I wasn't kidding when I said I don't do serious writing.
have now been to bother the poor creative writing folks (all three that were there, anyway. Most of us have better things to do on a Saturday), having gotten a great whopping one chapter to show them. I think I'm beginning to remember why all of my writing is piss-takes again. I do not do serious.
Been a few more hours, nothing has been done, and I somehow managed to spill alcohol on my bed :(
Okay, this entry has so far spanned a total of three days. Over those three days, I've gotten no writing and no work done. I should probably do something with myself at some point...
And drink less. I really need to drink less.
Friday 15 March 2013
You Know You're a Student When... (part 2)
... You've even given up on cooking instant noodles now, and are living on nothing but chocolate biscuits and cheap alcohol.
... You hand your essays in whilst trying to hide that you're so drunk you can barely walk straight, despite the fact that it's not even midday (wait, or should that have gone on 'You know you're an alcoholic when...')
... A worrying number of clubs that you've joined have degraded into nothing more than 'Get Drunk and Tell Dick Jokes' societies.
... That last one doesn't bother you at all.
... People actually approve of your developing alcoholism.
... You find you've spent too much money on alcohol and junk food and have to choose between budgeting (and staying sober) until your next student finance payment or swallow your pride and run to Daddy... and then remember that Daddy's also poor so there isn't really any choice, and have to try and remember how to not drink.
... You hand your essays in whilst trying to hide that you're so drunk you can barely walk straight, despite the fact that it's not even midday (wait, or should that have gone on 'You know you're an alcoholic when...')
... A worrying number of clubs that you've joined have degraded into nothing more than 'Get Drunk and Tell Dick Jokes' societies.
... That last one doesn't bother you at all.
... People actually approve of your developing alcoholism.
... You find you've spent too much money on alcohol and junk food and have to choose between budgeting (and staying sober) until your next student finance payment or swallow your pride and run to Daddy... and then remember that Daddy's also poor so there isn't really any choice, and have to try and remember how to not drink.
You Know You're an Alcoholic When... (part 2)
... You want to leave the bar despite not having finished your drink, and rather than waste alcohol you pour what's left into an empty water bottle.
... You take said alcohol-filled water bottle to creative writing club with you, but only because you didn't have a lecture to drink it in that morning.
... You've killed enough brain cell that you forget which painkillers you'll be allergic to in the morning.
... You get excited when the shop has a different flavour of Lambrini in.
... You actually drink Lambrini.
... You take said alcohol-filled water bottle to creative writing club with you, but only because you didn't have a lecture to drink it in that morning.
... You've killed enough brain cell that you forget which painkillers you'll be allergic to in the morning.
... You get excited when the shop has a different flavour of Lambrini in.
... You actually drink Lambrini.
The Return of the Pheasant
So, this is what I saw the other day while walking back to dorms from a lecture.
No, seriously. There is an honest to God fucking Pheasant here.
Look at it. It's a pheasant. What the fuck?
Now, I must admit, I'm kinda wondering how nobody here has come up with the bright idea of taking it home and roasting it, because I have to say as a poor student living off instant noodles the thought does have its appeal, but clearly the pheasant is doing okay because I saw it in exactly the same place as it was last time. Maybe I'm not the only one who's scared of what the vegan society would do to me if I roasted it? Or maybe, you know, it's actually kinda cool, in its own, weird way, and I wouldn't really hurt an innocent pheasant.
No, but seriously, what the fuck?
Friday 1 March 2013
More Procrastinating.
I've an essay due in tomorrow.
My fencing comp is this weekend.
I'm pretty sure I have anthology and journal submissions that I was going to work on.
I am procrastinating like hell.
No, really, I've an essay due TOMORROW and so far I have nothing but a vague outline of the structure and a few hundred words, plus a couple overdue library books on my bedroom floor that will be needed for it. It's not even 2 o'clock and I think I may actually declare it drinking time, because really there's no way that I'm getting this essay done sober.
Okay, it's now eighteen hours later. Past 10am. I've not drunk that much, to be fair. About one and a half bottles of WKD, which doesn't even count as alcohol, and some cider, some rum. Probably some vodka, too, I wasn't really paying attention. If anything, it was all the sugar that was the bad idea. I actually feel kinda ill. Too many skittles.
And I'm still not finished. I mean, I only have a couple hundred more words, but seriously, it's due in under two hours, I need to stop fucking procrastinating.
Finished about 11am, got the essay in on time. It's now about half four, and I've no excuse now not to get off my lazy behind and tidy my room, since the essay is done. Right when I sober up a little. I should probably have stopped drinking after I finished the essay.
And I should probably hit publish at some point, too, rather than just keep adding to this for the rest of the day, though that could be rather interesting.
My fencing comp is this weekend.
I'm pretty sure I have anthology and journal submissions that I was going to work on.
I am procrastinating like hell.
No, really, I've an essay due TOMORROW and so far I have nothing but a vague outline of the structure and a few hundred words, plus a couple overdue library books on my bedroom floor that will be needed for it. It's not even 2 o'clock and I think I may actually declare it drinking time, because really there's no way that I'm getting this essay done sober.
Okay, it's now eighteen hours later. Past 10am. I've not drunk that much, to be fair. About one and a half bottles of WKD, which doesn't even count as alcohol, and some cider, some rum. Probably some vodka, too, I wasn't really paying attention. If anything, it was all the sugar that was the bad idea. I actually feel kinda ill. Too many skittles.
And I'm still not finished. I mean, I only have a couple hundred more words, but seriously, it's due in under two hours, I need to stop fucking procrastinating.
Finished about 11am, got the essay in on time. It's now about half four, and I've no excuse now not to get off my lazy behind and tidy my room, since the essay is done. Right when I sober up a little. I should probably have stopped drinking after I finished the essay.
And I should probably hit publish at some point, too, rather than just keep adding to this for the rest of the day, though that could be rather interesting.
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