The Ramblings of a Loon

So I've been back in Exeter for 2 weeks and I haven't had anything really interesting to blog about. Yes there was the kidney infection, the exam drama, the sitting on the kitchen floor drinking with my house-mates, and a few other oddities, but nothing worth sharing with the world. 2014 has not gone off with a bang. So, you lucky people, because I can't stand the thought of remaining silent, even when I have nothing to talk about, I'm going to give you a review of the week. No major catastrophes or humiliations, but just the casual awkwardness of my day to day life and all the weird things that go through my head.

So, for the first half of the week I was a model student. I had an essay due in on Thursday so I spent Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday reading anything I could get my hands on to do with the representation of the family in Dickens. (Party on!) That gave me the whole of Wednesday to write the essay, which was all well and good until I couldn't get Microsoft Word to work on my new laptop and had to camp out on campus for 6 hours, buried under a pile of colour-coded notes. After 4 hours Kirsty came to check that I was still sane, took me for a coffee to ensure that I still had full function of my legs, and then returned me to the library to finish off my last 1000 words. By that point the English language had lost all meaning and I had to sit with my head on the desk for 10 minutes before I could conjure up the word 'overtly'.

You know the week hasn't been the
best when you see this in the mirror.

That night, to celebrate, I drank wine in my pjs with Kirsty and our friend Clare. We gossiped about boys, uni, and discussed Catholicism. As you do. There was a feast of raw cookie dough, which probably undid any of the good I'd done munching on organic, low fat rice cakes all week. 

On Friday I had my first seminar of 2014. (Let's all sit around and argue about whether or not Emily Dickinson was just an overrated maniac.) Last term I had to take a compulsory module, which was horrendous. They don't count it as compulsory because they give you the choice of 3: bad, worse, and one so awful I'd rather sit in a room with Sylvia Plath for 12 hours, discussing the joys of life.

But this term I'm studying Gothic Evolutions. It's all things dark and creepy and I have somehow regressed to my 10 year old nerdy self, hauled up with a pile of books in my room and eager to do my homework. I'm also doing my dissertation this term, which is about as terrifying as Gothic Evolutions is interesting. I somehow have to force 8,000 words out of my brain and onto paper in the form of an intellectual discussion on something that the university library shelves would suggest no one has ever written on. There's a whole separate library dedicated to law, but try and find a book about the Antebellum South and you'll quickly find you're out of luck.

On Friday night Kirsty, Clare and I went to Bella Italia, where I convinced myself that opting for a low-fat main course justified me getting garlic bread, 2 cocktails and an enormous slab of cake. I must admit though, even I thought I was pushing the calorie intake boundaries a bit when I went out for dinner again last night to celebrate our house-mate's birthday. For the first time in my life I was genuinely considering opting for a salad until we got to Urban Burger, where the only thing on the menu is...burgers. That said, I have spent the majority of the week unable to negotiate stairs because I've been trying to stick to my new workout DVD, which has left me with little use of my thighs and a constant aching in my bum. I intend to write a post about it when the 30 day challenge is over. That way, if I can finally fit into my Daisy Dukes by the end I can recommend it as a miracle DVD and if not at least people can look at the pictures I've been taking as I progress, and laugh at how big my butt looks.

In other news regarding this mundane old week, I've finally gotten around to listening to Britney Spears' new album, Britney Jean. It seemed only right that I should have it for Christmas seeing as I have all the others and regularly insist on listening to Hit Me Baby One More Time on full blast in my car. But even I, blindly dedicated fan that I am, can't get on board with this weird new accent she keeps putting on. If Dick Van Dyke ever taught us anything it's that the Americans should leave the British accent well alone. 

Then Kirsty introduced me to Secrets of the Living Dolls, which she found on 4od. It basically follows the lives of men who like to dress up...not as women exactly, but plastic dolls. It's apparently becoming the new big thing, which I find slightly concerning. It's not that I necessarily object to people dressing how they want, but instead of make up they wear rubber masks and, being personally terrified of masks, I don't feel I can entirely get on board with the idea of masked men in body suits casually roaming the aisles of Tesco. I had to sleep with a night light after I watched it. But for those of you like Kirsty and myself who love a ridiculous Channel 4 'documentary', this one is...an eye opener.

And now we've come full circle. It's Sunday afternoon and I'm back in the library, trying to find anything vaguely related to Gone with the Wind. I'm just hoping next week is a bit more lively or you'll just have to put up with another post about the mundane goings on of my boring week. Fingers crossed, eh?