Mini's Student Survival Guide: GIVE ME DRUUUUGS!

Prescriptions are expensive. £7.40 per item is pretty expensive anyway, but when you're on a student budget it is pretty much breaking the bank.

I needed painkillers for a problem I have with my hands. In fact I'm still taking the very same painkillers right now. £7.40 when I had £5 in my bank account and no milk for breakfast, I thought I would have to struggle through my exam and wait until after my holiday to be able to get them. In the end, I borrowed £5 off a friend to pay for them, and will pay her back out of my next student loan instalment before claiming the money back.

Here's the deal. When you're 18 you can still get them for free as you're in full time education - there's a box on the prescription form to tick; same as the one from when you were in college. Girls, we can get the pill without breaking the bank (condoms as well). If you visit an STI clinic and need antibiotics for that, they're free.

But us students tend to have low income, so from the age of 19 you can apply for a HC2 Certificate. The form is a long as your arm and you'll probably have to send a photocopy of your student loan breakdown and payslips if you have a job - so make sure you know where these things are - but think of how many times you'd rather spend £7.40 on alcohol rather than a prescription. You don't have wait till you are ill, apply at any time.

If you're ill in the meantime, you can also ask for a refund form whenever you pay for a prescription, so if you haven't got the certificate yet, just pay and claim it back when you apply.

So, get ill, get drugs, still be able to eat. Sounds good to me.

Now where did I put my form...

Mini's Student Survival Guide: Don't Waste Food!

Being a student who is seriously strapped for cash, wasting food is something that I try to avoid as best I can. Sometimes you cook more than you can eat. Sometimes you cook and then realise that you're not as hungry as you thought you were. Sometimes you buy things that you cannot possibly use before the use-by date.

With 24 hours before a litre of milk would expire, I couldn't deal with the pound that was about to be wasted when it could be put to good use.

Right now, I present - as a part of what I hope will become a regular feature of 'Mini's Student Survival Guide' - how to use up that milk before it stinks out the kitchen and gets thrown out by a flatmate. Of course, this relies on you having certain other things in to use them with, but it'll be worth it in the long run.

1. Meals to reheat. Some packet mixes require you to use milk to make the sauce, so this is what you need to go with (my personal favourite being chicken supreme, although I use Quorn pieces instead of chicken because I don't eat meat). The packet will probably say three to four servings, but I usually only get two. Either way, you have one for the fridge and one (or more) for the freezer.

Milk used: 425ml

2. Sweet treat. My homesickness food: Angel Delight. I know it isn't everyone's cup of tea, but it comes in a range of flavours so you can find something that tickles your fancy. Whip it up with fresh milk, put it in a bowl and leave to stand for 5 minutes (I prefer to stick it in the fridge, but there is no need to). One packet will do 4 servings, but nobody will judge you if you eat it all in one sitting.

Milk used: 300ml

3. Does cooking make you peckish? Grab yourself a bowl of cereal. Cheerios are my 'breakfast-as-midnight-snack' of choice, but whatever you've got in the cupboard, with a generous splash of milk, will sort out those hunger pangs, at least for the time being.

Milk used: 225ml

4. And wash it all down. Get yourself a hot drink. Tea, coffee, hot chocolate; whatever floats your boat. Of course if you like your coffee black then this won't help you, but a nice milky hot chocolate sorts me right out just before bed.

Milk used: Depends on your preference, but hopefully most of the rest.

5. If there's any left, you may as well just drink it straight from the carton. It's only going to start smelling if you leave it.

So don't waste it, allow yourself a midnight snack, a milky drink, a sweet indulgence and at least two meal portions.

1 litre of milk gone in less than 1 hour.

How would you do it?

Failure

I am afraid of failing. Like, terrified. I always have been and I probably always will be. But it goes deeper than that, I am afraid of getting the tiniest thing wrong. If you ask me a question about something, no matter how insignificant the answer is in the grand scheme of things, I would rather go with you to find someone else who knew for sure than give you a wrong answer. And by going with you I will get to know the answer myself as well.

I guess a fear of failure or of being wrong isn't really an irrational fear; if you are wrong about if the guy at your front door is a murderer or not then it could cost you your life, if you fail to spot the signs of a fire next door you could - at least - end up getting burnt. I can't say either of these things have ever happened to me, but I would like to be correct about my decision if they ever do.

Not wanting to get things wrong is in some parts a good thing, it drove me to make sure that I made as few mistakes as possible throughout my academic life and even in the present moment I am still pushing myself to make sure I understand something - even if it isn't directly relevant to anything I need to know. I have always known things, even back at the ripe old age of 11 when I got incredibly high SAT scores.

I guess the fear of failure has gotten bigger as life has gotten harder. Really I should try and be less scared because the chances of it happening get higher as things get harder, and maybe I should try and learn to accept it; but the whole 'grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change' has never really been my thing. If something cannot be made better I want to know why; and I will scream and kick and drag my heels until someone offers me either a reason or a solution.

In High School I pulled off some of the best results the school has ever seen and then followed it up in College with an A* in what is now my degree subject. Even when it didn't count I got a 1st in my first year of university. The fear of failure seems to have been useful in ensuring that I didn't fail in the past, but now the chances and the stakes are almost as high as they're going to go and I feel like the pressure is mounting ready to pop the cork and drown me in my own misery.

Not that I'm not doing well. I'm working my arse off to keep on top of everything (except writing this instead of doing a lab report) and can generally write essays well. When things go a bit pear shaped I know how to claw them back so things are going my way again. But at the same time there is this part of me, that seems to have gotten bigger in the last 3 years, that is telling me that things keep getting harder and I'm closer and closer to falling off the cliff into my worst nightmare.

For my chosen career, a first is pretty much what I need. I know that and that's why I'm working as hard as I can without spinning into mental illness to get there. It's a tough road but it's the one I need to take. And I tell myself daily that it won't be the end of the road if it isn't a 1st, I'll just have to deviate and take a lesser travelled, less direct road. I've gotten this far and I've not failed yet, as a fan of statistics I cannot fail to see how they are on my side. As long as I ignore the part of me that is saying 'Law of averages, it has to happen sometime!' (or throw it the U I got in a General Studies exam and the D I got in GCSE Music) I can manage to keep myself afloat. And when I can't ignore it, I have a support network of friends and family who will argue with it for me (please ignore how mental this sentence makes my friends, family and myself seem).

So, in a rambly sort of way, I will conclude that failure is scary; and being scared of it is a perfectly normal part of everyday life. But I have managed 19 years without any significant failures, so the statistics seem to be on my side.

So that is going to get written on a post-it-note and stuck to my pinboard, and I'm going to get to work on this lab report.

Mini's Misleading Dream Diary: Recurring Themes and Odd Imagery

From what I remember, this has happened the last few nights.

I'm busy doing stuff in my dream (whatever it may be) and then my old science teacher shows up and wants to play chess. I don't play chess, so I don't understand this. However, any time he gets the board out and sets up the pieces, various other dream stuff happens and we never end up playing chess. Which is good, because I have no idea what the dream me would do if I ended up playing chess.

The night before last I had a dream where there was a girl from university who was a combination of the worst features of all of the girls that I know. She died - I have no idea how or why, or why she even existed - and we all had to go to her funeral (so I couldn't play chess). I think I even cried, which is weird because I knew that I hated this girl, because she had all of the worst qualities of all of my female friends.

Night before that I was packing to go on holiday with Sarah and had a million and one things I had to sort out before I left (which is why I couldn't play chess). I don't remember much about the holiday, but were on a coach on our way back from the airport, and we had a monkey in a bikini. This could be a homage to some of the poetry that I wrote when I was in high school, where one of the guys in my class said 'Like, If monkeys wore bikinis' and that was his first line of his poem, but its more likely to just be a really weird image - which is the kind of thing my brain likes to cling to (and for the record, I think it was one of Sarah's bikinis).

We then got back to campus and slid down the hill to Lake Carter, with Ste Smith and Ellie Sutherland, causing mini landslides as we went because it had been raining much more than we realised. However, our clothes were miraculously clean when we got to the lake.

I usually tell stories in a much more interesting way than this, but how do you make your own weird brain interesting and not completely insane? Answers on a postcard please.

I have ideas for actual proper posts and really want to try and keep to a one a week schedule unless I have a deadline, so let's see if that lasts longer than BEDA, eh?

I'm also thinking of learning how to play chess.

Read into my dreams what you will, but don't judge me on Freudian analysis. I hate to think what the monkey represents.

'Dealing' with bullying

I was bullied. Particularly in high school. As you'll know from my hometown monologue, it was not a good time in my life. But it wasn't even the kind of problems where the same people made your life hell for years until you punched them and then they stopped. It was different people each year and this makes it worse.
You begin to think it is you. If it was just one person over 5 years then it is more likely to be them that is at fault - you are always told that the one person must be jealous of you or they must be having problems at home which is making them hostile. When it is at least 5 different people or groups of people over the 5 different years, you can make as many excuses for all of those people as you like, but you can't help but think that it can't be the case.
It's hard not to think this, but I somehow managed to hold on to it - despite my brain trying to tell me that I was deluded.

People try to teach you how to deal with bullying. There are courses for teachers. There are books on dealing with bullies. Parents are always trying to tell you ways to sort it out. People tried and tried, I tried and tried to use the techniques people tell you are completely fail safe to keep your spirits up in the moment and allow me deal with what was happening. It didn't work. It never works.

Realisation of this fact didn't really hit me until someone else said it. As with a lot of things in life, the truths that you will deny to the end of time become the biggest realisations of your life when you hear it stated by someone you look up to.

Hank Green hit the nail on the head for me and my experiences with bullying. 'Your job is not to deal with it, your job is to survive it, which you can do; because it will end!' (If you've ever heard Hank Green speak, you'll know how difficult it was to punctuate this).

A nerdfighter friend thought this was pessimistic and doesn't offer a lot of hope, and it's probably as useless as all of the other advice you could be given and I didn't want to agree with that, but I guess he is kind of right. But the truth isn't always optimistic and the truth isn't always helpful; but a lie is never helpful either!

I guess as advice, telling you to just survive isn't really enough. It needs more to actually be any use to someone who is in desperate need of something to help them lift their spirits. So, I tell you this: You get out of bed tomorrow morning, and you carry on with your life. Unless there is something you can do to actively stop this; such as some action that can be used to remove you or the bully from the situation most of the time (which did happen to me, I was put in a room during breaks to keep me out of harms way) this should be done where possible but it isn't always possible. When you're being bullied it is easy to think that every day will be a bad day and this prevents you from doing what you want to do with your life - whether its going to school and getting your qualifications, working hard to get up the career ladder or just a hobby that you enjoy. But if you don't get up and get on with it, you're not doing any of this and it is instantly a bad day. If you get up you could still have a bad day or you could have a good day, the point is that you don't know until you try.

If your day is bad then you can feel bad; you can cry, you can go to the gym and punch a punchbag for an hour, you can treat yourself to a piece of chocolate if that's your thing (though I don't recommend this as a long term solution). You should do whatever it is that makes you feel better (providing it doesn't hurt yourself or anyone/thing else), because when you're in that position, if you can find something that makes you feel better, then you should do that thing.

But even the cliché advice that I said isn't helpful still has some place. It isn't you, and it will end and it will get better (another thing that Hank Green said). My former best friend started working with someone who used to bully me at the start of high school and she told her that she was so jealous of me because I was very smart and people would ask me for help and things like that and I honest burst into tears upon hearing this. Looking back at it all I know that it wasn't me, and eventually you'll be able to get to a place where you can look back and know that it was all unfortunate and you handled it badly, but you did your best and it's made you who you are right now.

And I'm proud of who I am. I wouldn't change me for the world. And if I could go back in time and change something I wouldn't. And if I could go back and tell my younger self something it would be:

'You can do this, as long as you keep getting out of bed in the morning. You can't see it now; but in the end, you're going to be great!'

365 days in 30 ways - REVIEW

It's over, how did I do?

1. Bake cakes for my new flatmates.

Okay, so most of them had left before I actually made them, but Sunny, John and Adelina liked them...

2. Get a poem published.

3. Meet up with someone I met online.

Marinassia, Megan, Dan and Ros.

4. Raise £100 for charity.

5. See a famous comedian live.

6. Pass the first year of my degree.

With a first as well.

7. Keep my cacti alive.

Technically I killed one of them, but the other two are alive and well.

8. Meet someone famous.

9. Go to the Torchwood paving slab in Wales.

10. Learn to play poker.

11. Go to Pride.

Liverpool with my Mummy :)

12. Go on the London Eye.

13. Pass the 21 Day Challenge.

14. Stop being superstitious.

I didn't put my new shoes on the table, but that was for my mum's benefit.

15. Fit back into my size 10 clothes.

16. Learn sign language.

17. Swim in a river/lake.

18. Join a writers society.

I paid the joining fee even if I didn't go, so it counts.

19. Have a snowball fight with strangers.

Technically my flatmates and some people they knew, but they were strangers to me.

20. Be part of a flash mob.

21. Take a first aid course.

22. Get a Henna tattoo.

23. Get a job.

24. Get a book signed.

Sent a signed copy of Like Bees to Honey by the wonderful Caroline Smailes.

25. Take up yoga.

Wii Fit yoga, but it still counts.

26. Have a nerdfighter t-shirt custom made.

27. Sell something on eBay.

28. Cook a meal for my best friend.

I made Sarah some pizza, so I'm counting it.

29. Blog about all of the things that are on my 'wall of stuff'.

Can't actually happen now as it's been taken down :(

30. Have regular blog readers who aren't my mother.

Welcome, reader!

I did pretty badly really, didn't I?

Expect the coming years list in a few days

Hi, I'm an atheist.

I used to be a Christian. Well, in the sense that I used to go to Church because my best friend at the time did. I'm not sure I ever properly believed in God. I used to like getting the sweets at Christmas, which is a very bad reason for going to church.

I moved on to agnosticism - believing that we will never know with the evidence we have whether God exists or not. I don't mean to offend anyone, but I feel that this is the easy way out. The evidence that you have is in front of you, and it is up to you to interpret it as being evidence for the existence of God or for the non-existence of God (the main example here is the fossils debate - they can be said to be proof that the world is older than it should be according to the Bible or something else God created to test our faith). To sit on the fence in the form of agnosticism is not something I feel is worthwhile. If you 'don't know' then you are not living your life to any sort of certainty, and making the decision which view you subscribe to is a gutsy thing to do, but it solves this problem and gives you something to stand up for.

I then dabbled with the idea of Buddhism as a religion. But this again does not really address the 'God question'. It is more about adapting your way of life to make yourself a better person and achieve Nirvana rather than reincarnation upon death (but I'm not doing your Religious Education homework for you, Google it!).

But then I moved on to atheism. If you Google 'define atheism' you get: The theory or belief that God does not exist.

Christians will always try to preach their religion to you, because it is in their religion to do so, but I think of myself as a quiet atheist. I don't try and convince other people that my viewpoint is right and theirs is wrong, unless they first say that I am wrong. But after reading one to many threads on a forum about atheists being evil because they have no God to give them a moral system or trying to give 'absolute proof' of the existence of God, when all they are doing is adding to the poorly argued case of Christianity (which is not to say that all Christian arguments are poor, just the ones that I seem to end up in), I decided I would explain why I subscribe to such a viewpoint.

There are a lot of points I could go into about the circular nature of arguments in Christianity and the 'Does it really matter if I believe in God because (s)he is good and will forgive me?' premise; but I'm not going into that here. (However, if you would like to buy me a drink and have a good chat about it, I am open to that).

Basically, I do not need God to explain the world (I am not trying to plagiarise Alex Day here, but a lot of my idea is based on and extrapolated from his video, just click his name). If you think of a God as a designer then it makes everything that surrounds us much less impressive. Darwin's Theory of Evolution states that all living things in the world right now are a product of natural selection - they were the most suited to their environment and so they were able to pass on their genes and so those genes survived while less suitable ones died out. A butterfly with a brightly coloured pattern on it's back that looks like eyes is so because that helps to fend off predators (because they think it can see them or think the colours may mean it is poisonous) and not because God thought it would be nice to look at. Human beings evolved and now build skyscrapers and invented the internet not because we were created in God's image before being cast out of the Garden of Eden, but because those who had the extra brain power to make tools and use them to build houses for protection could pass on their genes and those who caught diseases and died from sitting out in the rain doing nothing could not.

If God is responsible for all of this, then everything that humans have achieved is nothing that we can be proud of. If a cure for cancer was found tomorrow, it would be hailed a 'miracle' and God would get credit from some people who believe that we are able to do everything that we do as a species only because of what God did in the beginning and what he does to look over us. If God is responsible for 'miracles' (although this largely depends on your definition of a miracle) then what is the claim to fame for the human race? If we evolved from single celled organisms over millions of years and formed these intelligent creatures that are able to manipulate our surroundings instead of our surroundings manipulating us, then that is something that we - as a species - should take pride in. If God created us as we are, then this pride has no place.

In the end it all boils down to your way of life. If believing in God is what gets you out of bed in the morning then I am not going to try and destroy that belief in you - because it is obviously doing you a lot of good. I just don't get the same effect, because if I believe in the omnipotent God that is looking after me, I feel depressed about the state of our species. We are just as God made us; and God did not make us perfect (just read Genesis). We have hardly advanced from the Garden of Eden standpoint if you compare that to the progress that we have made - how far we have come - in order to be the intelligent beings that we are through evolution.

My view of the world is one where God has no place, where we have made our own present and we have control over our own future. If a cure for cancer is found that is because of the evolution of intelligence leading to the invention of equipment to develop better drugs, and should not be hailed as a 'miracle'.

I do not need religion to feel good, I do not need religion to explain the world, and that is why I am an atheist.

Hometown Monologue.

Backstory: I decided to walk home from ASDA today, and took a route past my old high school, at which point ideas for a blogpost flooded my mind, and I had no way of recording them down other than to record it as a monologue on my phone. I didn't intend to speak as much as I did, especially as I was just outside and knew people could be listening, but this is what I came up with (with ums, ahhs, and corrections edited out).
Warning: This will likely be repetitive and jump from idea to idea with no logic and will be laid out weirdly. But it will be raw and honest.
(Points in parentheses added for clarification)

I walk for the exercise.
Normally I'll walk through the shopping centre, but I didn't think it through when I decided to walk home at half past 6. So, the shopping centre was closed.
I could choose one of many routes, all of which involve stairs which I'm not a massive fan of with the problems I have with my knees. So I decided to take the route, although in reverse, I travelled so many times during the 5 years I spent in the place in my hometown that raises the most anxiety in my life, my high school.
I walked over the river, which was more beautiful than I remember it, and steering clear of the grounds (I mean the path running along the front of the school, the gates were obviously locked), which I hadn't set foot in in just over three years, I walked round and noticed the signs that were on the front of the school - their GCSE success, as if! The most successful year they had was about 3 years ago, when I left! They didn't even meet the national targets this year, which doesn't surpise me at all! Well, they did sack the old head teacher, so with a bit of luck they'll improve again but I wouldn't recommend anyone send their child there anyway, the place is... well it's a very very rubbish place.

I'm walking down a broken path, and over a bridge to where for the first 2 years, my dad used to pick me up - because apparently that was easier so he didn't have to venture into town centre, which if you've ever been on a school run you'll know that's true. You can see the bus stop that I got a bus from for about 3 months, before me and my best friend at the time decided that it would be easier to go through the Concourse - the shopping centre I mentioned before that I couldn't walk through - then we'd be guaranteed a seat and the bus wouldn't drive past us like it often did when it was already full of students that had got on at the Concourse.

I don't remember this bridge taking me as long when I had shorter legs and wasn't as fit. I used to hate PE; but what nerd doesn't hate PE, let's be honest.

The aren't any students around at the minute, it's half past 6 on a Friday. Normally they'll hang around till about half 4-5, considering they finish at quarter past 3. Quite long time. I used to walk straight the shopping centre with my friend at the time - Jade, whose mum I saw in the ASDA, so that was weird. I'm glad she wasn't there. Would be quite annoying really, considering I have no make-up on right now.

I can see the (low and flat) bollard I used to sit on and wait when my dad was late, hope that nobody I didn't like would try and speak to me. Sat here once when I walked in new shoes and couldn't walk the rest of the way to get the bus (back home, due to blisters).

Double deckers, that's a thing we never had, thank God. There'd have been fights on the top deck with no driver to watch out. Happens now, I've seen it.

I always sit on the bottom now. Again, knees! Or at least that's my excuse.

I'm back towards the route I'd normally take walking home, and I've only wasted what, 10 minutes going a different way? Never mind.

At the very least I managed to snap a couple of pictures by the river before, before the chavs walked down the steps - ha, STEPS - that I had to walk up. I don't know if you know, but the north west of England was caught in the tail-end of a hurricane recently and one of the trees appears to have snapped in half; half if it is still standing and the other half of it is half falling over. I'll upload the picture if I can.

I got the river, managed not to get any of the litter, which is not something you can usually do.

It's weird. I used to get panic attacks - I still get them sometimes when I'm out shopping and I see people that I'm not a fan of - but like I said, it's now quarter to 7 on a Friday and I'm walking across the bridge over the dual carriageway towards a friend's house without a care in the world. It helps to know that in two weeks time - two weeks tomorrow to be exact - I'm going to be packing up my dads bus and going back to the place I call home.

A lot of people say they have uni and home, well I have home and I have where my parents live. Home is Lancaster. And the first time I called it home, when I was staying at my parents' house my mum almost started to cry, but held it back and later on said: when you called Lancaster home before, it both broke my heart and made me happy at the same time. You don't consider us home anymore but I know that's because of your relationship with this town. But I'm happy that you're happy where you are.

(If you read Facebook or Twitter you were probably expecting more. I cut it, I hate pretty much all of what I said and how I said it. But you'll still get the general gist of the rest in a future post).

Thoughts From Places: Primary Nostalgia Overload

My old Primary School is a 5 minute walk away from house (the same house I lived in when I was there). I took a stroll up the other day; while I was just out walking; and I was struck by how much the place had changed.

Just before we left, they have life sized wooden cut-outs of us done. We then got to paint ourselves and the 'Class of 2003' were mailed in a semi-circle on the wall in the undercover area. Mine looked ridiculous - in fact most of them looked ridiculous - but it was a way of knowing that we wouldn't be forgotten.

Recently (how recently I don't know; but I imagine in the last 5 years as I don't remember it happening when my brother was there) the undercover area was filled into to make another classroom. The wooden semi-circle was move to the main entrance of the school - which I guess means they were even more happy about having them. When my old year 6 teacher retired, they were still there. When I came back to help out, they were still there.

I walked up and went around the outside of the field, still completely unable to accept the view from the junior playground - lacking the undercover area that I spend the best part of 3 years of my life playing under in the great British weather composed almost entirely of rainy days.

I walked past the infant playground which looked (remarkably) like it always used to - back when I was a buddy to the cute blonde I mentioned back in BEDA: 4, even further back when I got in trouble for poking a girl in the eye in self-defence when she had jumped on my back and pulled my hair; even further still when I still thought hopscotch was fun before I fell and took the skin off my knees.

I dashed past the new bike racks and the sensory garden that replaced the area I ran through and into the road on my first day to the main entrance to admire my (somewhat embarrassing) handiwork through the new green fences.

Well, they were gone! I was heartbroken. I'm not entirely sure why some 8 year old piece of wood covered in (probably chipped) paint that doesn't even accurately represent me - even then, never mind now - meant so much, but I did feel slightly teary at the thought of all memory of the class of 2003 being eradicated in this new age where class sizes are so big I'm surprised they fit in the classrooms.

Hundreds of children have gone through that school in the 8 year period since I left; but I got all level 5s in my SATS, I played Blousey Brown, I always sang a solo and made my mum cry. I'm not even sure any of the teachers I had are still there - two retired, three moved on and I think one of them died. Knowing that your memory is gone from a place in 8 years makes me feel awfully old, even though I'm only 19. A part of me is tempted to Google the term dates and go and see if they need any help in the time between the new term starting and my going back to uni - but a bigger part of me is telling me to let it lie, and build a bigger legacy elsewhere.

I have the newspaper clippings to prove that it'll take an awfully long time for me to be forgotten in my high school - although its not something I want to be remembered for, or even remember myself. I get this feeling that I've left footprints of incredibly varying depths and I find this a little unsettling. The footprints in the mud have been rained over at primary school, the squashed snow at college melted almost as soon as I left and the indentations from my walk through high school and have been unwillingly cast into cement as an unhappy accessory. I guess I have to try and control how heavy my footfalls are in future - to be preserved where I want them to be, and washed over by the new generation where I don't want them to remain.

I do wonder what happened to those wooden cut-outs of us though.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 7 - A Song You Hate

Whip My Hair - Willow Smith

Lancaster Uni Freshers' Week Guide (From the Perspective of Someone Who Didn't Drink in Freshers' Week)

Note: This guide can also be used for other universities, but some of the more Lancaster specific points may not be completely relevant.

1. Your college is important (but only this week)

Buy the t-shirt, learn the chants (ask your reps), drink exclusively in your own bar. If you're on campus then your flatmates will be in your college; and they'll be the people you spend the most time throughout the week and your freshers' reps will help to instil a sense of family from your college.

After freshers' you'll go into normal uni life and meet people on your course and in societies, at which point the only time your college will matter is if you play inter-college sports. I am in Fylde and some of my best friends are in Lonsdale, Furness and County. The only time the college difference matters is when we beat them at pool, when a bit of casual banter is thrown around.

2. Ask questions

You'll have a tutor and two freshers' reps; they're there to help you. I didn't know which bus to get to the train station and my rep not only told me which bus and where from, but she also found me a timetable. When I had to change my minor, my personal tutor (who didn't actually know how the procedure worked herself) rang around to find out for me while I was feeling emotional and had no idea where to start.

Freshers' reps are largely there to get you drunk (ahem, I mean make sure you aren't too drunk to get home safe), but they will also answer your questions - they were once nervous freshers with millions of questions they felt stupid for having to ask, so they completely understand where you are coming from.

3. Play sports/join societies

The Freshers' Fayre will usually be Thursday/Friday of freshers' week, and you'll probably be overwhelmed by how many things people have been bothered to make societies for. Join anything you are remotely interested in or think you could be interested in. But, make sure you take account of the cost - some are free, some have joining fees, some require you to buy equipment; but if its something you are going to enjoy and make friends doing then it has to be worth it.

I didn't do this. I signed up for the writers' society and never went. I only joined the pool team by accident, but my captain is now the best friend I have met at uni, and a lot of the other girls are totally awesome!

4. Don't feel pressured to drink a lot and go out every night.

I'm disabled and when my knee started to hurt, I went home and chilled with a hot water bottle. Your freshers' reps will encourage you to get drunk and enjoy yourself, your party animal flatmates may think you're a little weird if you don't wanna go out; but it's your life, your freshers' week and your uni experience - do whatever you like.

I even left my Big Night Out (sampling a lot of the local nightlife under the watchful eyes of your reps) early, and my female rep - who had been encouraging the rest of the group to drink as much as possible without being sick - walked me to the bus station and made me promise to text her when I got back before she would let me on the bus.

5. Speaking of the Big Night Out, wear sensible shoes!

I wore flats. My two female flatmates wore heels. Guess which of the three of us wasn't moaning about her feet our third bar?

Lancaster is quite spread out. I used to go out with Wigan, where pretty much all of the clubs are along the same street. You get bored of one club, you just pop next door; it's easy and not too bad for high heels. But Lancaster isn't anything like this. With the exception of Sugarhouse, Toast and Elements all being along the same road, you don't get clubs that are all that close together. So wear flats for the sake of your feet and the ears of your flatmates.

Quickfire advice:

6. Don't take clothes you don't think you'll wear because you'll spend forever unpacking! But do weigh everything up for its fancy dress value.

7. If you can, get the top shelf of the fridge so other people's food doesn't leak and drip onto yours - particularly if you're a vegetarian or have allergies.

8. Bring a doorstop so your new flatmates can say hi while you unpack.

9. Establish football/rugby/other sport alliances and rivalries early - makes for good banter in the bar or your kitchen while watching a match/game/race.

10. Have fun, don't be scared, and just be yourself. If people hate you for it, that's their issue.

In case you haven't noticed...

I failed at BEDA.

Please don't judge me for it.

I was planning to catch up, but there is little to no chance of that happening now.

Coming soon:

Lancaster Uni (or any uni really) Freshers' Guide - From the Viewpoint of Someone Who Didn't Drink During Her Freshers' Week.

The second half of my coming out story.

A few high school stories.

Video game nostalgia.

I will also be continuing with this:

30 Day Song Challenge Day 6 - A Song By Someone You'd Like To Marry.

What a weird thing... but I went with this

Charlie McDonnell - A Song About Love

BEDA 6: Coming Out 1

So I went to Liverpool Pride with my mum today. I wore my rainbow eyelashes, we marched, we bought rainbow scarfs and got rainbow lips temporarily tattooed on our chests. We met a lovely lesbian called Rose in the march and we compared our coming out stories, as well as actual tattoos and battle scars.
For those of you who don't know, I'm bisexual.
When I think about it, I think I knew at about age 11, although I didn't really understand anything there. I had a huge crush on Emma Watson in the first Harry Potter. Now, at my current age that would be weird, but I was 9 and she was 11, so that's totally acceptable.

At 13 I told one friend. This one friend told one of her friends (who was kind of my friend,but not so much) and either this conversation was overheard, or she was just a bitch who told everyone. Either way, the entire school knew within about a day, and my life would never be the same again.
At my school, children were mean. Bullying was something they did on a daily basis, and homophobia was just another excuse to make someone else feel bad. The comments I could ignore, but the general dickheadedness of some of the people I had no choice but to put up with was appaling. The teachers did their best, as they did with all bullying cases - but when there are an awful lot of bullying students and only one victim, it's usually easier to try and remove the victim than the bullies.
I spent my breaks sat in a classroom with a couple of my friends, until the head decided to not allow students inside buildings during breaks and I was only allowed the one friend. At that point Donna became my best friend, because she hated the wind and rain we experienced in England almost daily anyway.
There were times when I wished that I could undo my telling people, make it so that nobody knew anymore, remove all memories they had of something that made me an easy target. But that would be lying to myself. Telling everyone may have made life difficult in the short term, but in the long term I am much more accepting of myself and it's so much easier to now say to people 'Yeah, I like both'.

Nowadays my friends care so little that they often forget about it until I go and try to pull women because 'I'm sick of men at the moment!'. It affects their lives so little that it doesn't concern them on a daily basis. Nobody from school was ever directly affected by the fact that I also liked women, but they chose to let it concern them on a daily basis and I feel sad for their sad lives if that is something that they make a conscious choice to do.
Also, I'm sure a lot of the girls were too busy being scared that I fancied them to realise that their boyfriends probably enjoy lesbian porn and would be happier if they were bisexual.
As is the closed minded way of life.




30 Day Song Challenge Day 5: Favourite Slow Song
Butterfly in the Breeze - Eddplant

BEDA 5: There is a moth...

and it is terrorising me.

My room has been tidied recently, and now suddenly there are moths all over the place. My mum smacked one against my arm the other day and now it seems that its big brother is going to make me pay for it for the rest of my life.

It keeps disappearing though. It'll come to fly at my head and scare me and then disappear till tomorrow; when it will gain great happiness in doing it all over again. Obviously I can't be sure that its the same one, but the curtains are closed, so it must be.

I'm usually not scared of tiny little animals like this. I take pride in being the person in the house who will remove the spider from the bath and have had countless arguments about animals that I'm not scared of. Moths aren't scary if they're out of the way and minding their own business, but if they're in my bed, casting shadows when circling my light or flying at my head - they're not welcome.

My mum has offered to get rid of it for me, and did come in with a towel when I ran out of my room (held back the screaming) yesterday because it hit me twice in the head, but it disappeared. It's just climbed up towards my light and jumped at me. I flailed my arms widely and then it disappeared again.

Once again I am paranoid that it's going to kill me in my sleep or something.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 4: Newest/Most Modern Song You Love

Give Me Everything - Pitbull

BEDA 4: The (Not So) Little Girl I've Known A Long Time

We've all had the same treatment from a distant family friend, or an old primary school teacher, who hasn't seen you in years. You've grown up as time has gone on but the last time they saw you, you were 'only as big as [my] knee!' You get the typical 'My, how you've grown' and you just look at the person with a puzzled expression, silently thinking 'Well of course I have, that's how time works!'

I'm sure its something we've all experienced from one end, the other, or both. And it's not until you do experience it from both ends that the puzzled expression fades and you empathise with how they feel.

Picture this: it's 2002, I'm 10 years old and all of the year 6's have taken a course to become 'buddies' for the reception students - although only a certain few get to do it everyday. Although you're supposed to look after a group of a few students, we all tended to take one under our wing.

My 4 year old was the cutest little girl with a blonde bob who was oh-so-quiet but knew how to run. The best part of a year was spent trying to catch her, making sure she spoke up to integrate with the other children and just generally being her friend.

Fast forward to the present day. A couple of weeks ago I saw her in her high school uniform. She's 13. It's been 9 years, but it feels like no more than 9 weeks. I saw her a couple of times and actually played Wii boxing with her on one occasion (she got stroppy because I beat her; some things don't change) but for the most part of 9 years we've just been living on the same street, not the friends we used to be. She's a young woman now, with friends she has to get a bus to see and her GCSE exams coming up in the next two years. But in my head she's still 4, and I can't believe how quickly she's grown up.

I finally understood it. And 5 days after I saw her I ran an old family friend of my mother's; who I hadn't seen for years. She couldn't believe I had already been away and done a year at uni, because to her I was only about 7... And I didn't roll my eyes, I didn't act confused, I totally got how she felt; how old I must make her feel just for having lived as long as I have.

I know that if I told my teenaged 4 year old that I still think of her as being so little from back when I was her 'buddy' and can't believe how she's grown; she'd look at me funny and just shrug it off as something adults say. But one day she'll understand; one day it'll be her.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 3: Oldest Song You Love (I really struggled with this, as I don't know what came out when! So I went with the oldest Beatles song in my iTunes)

Love Me Do - The Beatles

BEDA 3: Mini's Misleading Dream Diary

I never understand any of my dreams, and I'm certainly not analysing them in any kind of Freudian context, we all know he was a weirdo.

My dear friend Sarah was taken into hospital with some medical condition that I don't remember. Her parents couldn't get down to see her so I played the good friend and went to visit her everyday so she wouldn't be alone. The issue was that the hospital was also a school and practically a maze inside, so I got lost on the way to go see her.

She was also told that she was well enough to go a cooking class within the hospital/school, but needed a chaperone, so I went with her to that as well. We came in late and had to take the only remaining pair of seats over the other side of the room as quietly as we could (and if you've met Sarah, you'll know that's not easy ;) ).

The little girl sat next to Sarah was wearing an Esther bracelet, so I started to chat to her about Nerdfighteria for a little while and then her chaperone arrived and it was my friend Dan. I chatted to him and we interrupted the class and were almost thrown out.

Go on then, psychoanalyse my stupid dreams!

Also, it is Esther day today, have you told your family you love them?

30 Day Song Challenge Day 2: Favourite cover song

Behind Blue Eyes - Limp Bizkit

BEDA 2: Mothers and Make-Up (Forum Hatred)

I spend far too much time frequenting The Student Room (or TSR as it will be known from now on). In a thread in which some odd person asked if women would teach their daughters how to shave 'downstairs', somebody compared this to a mother teaching her daughter how to put on make-up.

I am not for mothers teaching their daughters how to shave; but I was disgusted to find that this girl thought it was so wrong to teach your daughter how to put on make up.

My mother rarely wears make-up, so I had to figure out how to apply make-up by myself and through advice from my friends. My mum would always tell me if my make-up looked stupid, but she couldn't tell me how to apply things like foundation and powder, because she had never worn it for herself. In fact, I ended up showing her how to apply bronzing powder when her friend bought her some for her birthday.

The girl on the TSR's reasoning for it being wrong for mothers to teach their daughters to apply make-up is that a mother should not influence her style like that. She should figure it out herself by making her own mistakes and learning what she likes and what looks good. I agree that she should have to learn what looks good herself, but there is nothing wrong with a mother ensuring her daughter does not look like a clown with block eyeshadow, does not have an orange face and keeps her lipstick within the lines of her lips. Just because my mother is helping me does not mean that I will do whatever she says in regards to what I was going to wear; I am perfectly capable of picking things for myself and having her show me how to apply them effectively. Like I have mentioned, I didn't have this luxury as my mother was not really a make-up wearer herself; and I didn't have a big sister either. I would have loved to have been taught how to apply make-up properly when I was younger to save me some of the style disasters that I thought were the result of proper application until a friend showed me otherwise.

Basically what I'm saying - in a rambling sort of way - is that mothers should teach their daughters to apply the make-up that their daughters have chosen to wear. However, the good people of TSR would not have accepted this as a post, especially as the topic of the thread was about shaving and not make-up.

30 Day Song Challenge (another thing I'm doing here) Day 1: Favourite song with a colour in the title.

All In White - The Vaccines

BEDA 1: Welcome to BEDA

BEDA: Blog Every Day August. Basically, after it being so long since my last post; I decided to (attempt to) post everyday in August. They'll not be as long, carefully written or structured as you're used to; but there will be an awful lot of them (31, to be exact).

Preview of what's to come:

• Mini's Misleading Dream Diary - details of weird dreams posted when I run out of ideas rather than when they happen
• Forum Hatred
• John Green #3
• Coming Out Stories (yes, plural)
• And actual real life observations made in my actual real life.

August starts here, let's see if I can hold your interest.

(And no, you can't punish me for not updating).

4. Jenson Button

I was watching Top Gear and Jeremy Clarkson turns to Jenson Button and says (and I'm paraphrasing here) "Last time you said you'd trade all the cash and the glitz and glamour for that first win, and now you've got that, is it still true for the championship?"

To which Jenson replied yes.

He won the championship in 2009 with Brawn, but like all champions (except maybe Kimi Raikkonen) the most important thing is that second, third, fourth title that 23 other men are going to do their best to take for themselves.

I always admire people who have such passion for their work. If we all had the attitude that our personal success in our jobs - or in other areas like family and friendships - would lead to more happiness than acquiring money then I think the world would be a better and more productive place.

I don't want to drive an F1 car. I want to be a clinical psychologist. The two are very different but the that I'm getting at is the same. Jenson worked his way up through the lower formulas to an F1 race seat in 2000 and then achieved that magical championship 9 years later. It was his dream realised after several hundred thousand pounds and a lifetime of hard work and competitive spirit. I've done 12 years of school, two at college and I'm about to complete the first of a three year degree which will be followed by work experience and a PhD - with stress levels rising along with the competition and my debt. I could just give up, try a field with less competition, but why should I give up on my dreams just because I could do something easier for the same end salary?

In the end, it doesn't come down to the money. I got into uni before the fee increase but I'd probably still have gone through all of this at £9000 a year rather than the £3000 I'm paying at the moment. Its not about the money. It doesn't matter if I'll be paying for this part of my life for the rest of my life, as long as I am where I want to be.

Jenson was willing to trade all of his luxuries and riches to stand on the top step and later to lift the championship trophy and that kind of passion should be an inspiration to us all.

This isn't to say that I would do a graduate job for minimum wage, and you've misunderstood if you think that's what I've said. I'd like to live on my own or with a partner in a place that's big enough for everything I need. I have to be able to afford internet, TV, phones and music. I need to be able to keep myself looking good and have some way to get myself around without resorting to spirit crushing public transport. All of these things will make me better at my job(s) which will make my dream easier to realise and continue with. We often call these things 'luxuries' and I guess in a way they are and I spent the first part of this post arguing against them but these kinds of things will be weighed against the impact that I can have if I have them all and I am the best that I can be.

Lastly, I want to be able to pay back my student loans and boost the economy, so other people in the future can realise their dreams.

For Jenson, its about being the best in the world at something and that is rarely a bad thing to aim for. I would go so far as to say that an improbably large proportion of the world has heard his name at some point. I don't care if people know my name, I'm not looking to be famous to everyone; just to be a positive force in the world with the troubled individuals I will inevitably come across in my line of work.

I can't speak for Jenson about his fame, but I would think it would be safe to assume that he doesn't care if people know his name, as long as he can say 'World Champion' afterwards.

We all have different goals, but if we all had the same attitude and passion that you see in men like Jenson Button, I feel like we'd all do better to achieve them.

Picture perfect painted smile

I never wore a lot of make-up for the first half of high school.

While the 'popular' girls discovered foundation I barely knew how to apply mascara. It was never an issue to me, I was always happy with the way I looked.

I guess I didn't care what I looked like, there was never any reason for me to look my best because there was never anybody I was interested in looking good for.

When the hormones kicked in age 13 and I also started dying my hair dark as I was going through a 'goth phase' which I didn't really grow out of, despite now having blonde hair and currently wearing a floral top. I started wearing heavy eyeliner and resenting being told to take it off. I was convinced there was a double standard; the orange girls were never told to take their layers of the wrong shade foundation off - probably because they would quit the sports teams if the sports staff had a go at them. I was probably right about the double standard but I was young and didn't know how to deal with it.

At college I changed to just mascara and lip gloss, I still didn't see the appeal in foundation, I'd never been taught how to choose the proper shade or how to put it on and I found women at cosmetic counters in department stores a little intimidating.

But one day sat in the back corner of our college library (as we always did) my good friend Beth told me to stop moaning about the state of the skin on my nose and smoothed some of her foundation over it. She then thought it made a good fit and applied a little along my jawline to check it was as good a match as it looks. She didn't know it then, but she had created a monster.

I lasted about 6 months only applying foundation to my nose - covering up the slight difference in colour by the skin being dragged by a bump in the middle - before progressing to applying it to my T-Zone to cover spots for a night out. Now, I wear foundation all over my face, everyday. I was taught to apply it by the girls at college and I've never looked back.

You always hear about girls calling other girls 'fake' because of their application of make-up in this way; and in some sense I agree with this because the skin tone you see on my face is not the skintone that I actually have. My eyes aren't as big as the eyeliner tricks your eyes into thinking they are and my lips are not that dark. My eyelashes are not as long as my quest for the best mascara is gradually making them look; but that is what you see when you look at me. And it isn't a case of what you see is what you get like a lot of people think it is, it is far from that. What you see is what I want you to see, and I don't see any problem with this.

I don't wear make-up to be more attractive to other people. Whether that is or isn't a side effect is up to you to decide and not me; but it isn't the reasoning behind why I do it. If anything, I wear make-up to make me more attractive to me. Sometimes I look in the mirror and can't believe how ugly I look. I hate my spots and my bumpy nose and the fact that one of my eyes is bigger than the other and it does restrict how I think about myself; no matter how much I try to convince myself that it doesn't. An application of foundation and mascara can make me confident enough in myself to face the day if my self-confidence is hit - even if it's only because I don't want to have wasted the effort.

So if I look in the mirror after applying full make-up following a few days slap free and feel like I look fake, it's probably a good sign and not me insulting myself. And I'm certainly not comparing myself to the girls in high school - it's not natural, but it's not orange.

BAM

They're not perfect, they're not symmetrical, but nothing is perfect and I can still fly even with broken wings.

Post-hoc poetry.

I had an idea for a new sub-anthology, details will follow if it actually gets anywhere. It's 13 poems, all based (loosely) around certain things that have happened at uni. I don't want to give too much away in case I decide I hate them all after they're written and they never see the light of day (although the first two that I wrote have been shown to one of my best friends).

Problem is, the idea came afterwards. I'm writing poetry post-hoc and it's causing some problems with dating and ordering the poems in the anthology.

I've tried to order them chronologically based on when the original events happened. This has taken some time and pouring over my diary trying to figure out what nights out happened when and when certain information become public and it's not been easy trying to put events with times.

But I think I've managed it, the last date just fell into place; remembering being filled in about the details of a weekend when I wasn't at uni.

I date my poetry. I've said this before in my post that was purely about poetry, and the date I include is usually the date that the poem is written in first draft form. But these poems are different.

The question I have is: Do I date the poems based on their first draft completion, or do I give them the date from when the event they're based on happened?

I could just include both, but that seems like a cop out. If you have any thoughts, please let me know.

Are you happy with where you are in life right now? Take 2

I missed my re-evaluation deadline. I don't tend to miss deadlines but those three months turned into almost 4, but here we are. (If you don't know what I'm talking about go here: http://dft.ba/-5things).

In short: 5 things I wish I could change about my life at this very moment.

1. Not speaking to my family as much as I used to.

This is a big thing for me. Last term we used to speak almost daily and now we hardly speak at all. It's partly down to me being busy at times when they're free and them being busy at times when I'm free. It's not all that difficult to make the extra effort, but these things happen and things slip through the cracks.

2. My pool ability.

And I was doing so well. I'm not really a quitter, but I imagine Sarah hates me for the amount of times I've been threatening to quit the pool team over the last 7 days. They say practice makes perfect but the more I've been practising recently the more I've been losing by huge margins (and by that I mean three 7-balls in the last week - Chris, Joanna and Dani) and then my confidence takes a knock and I don't want to play anymore. I don't want to give up because I have dreams of playing for Roses in my third year; but when you're playing as bad as I have been it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. The worst part is knowing what you're doing wrong and knowing how to fix it and trying the best you possibly can to fix it and failing; because that's the point that you feel completely useless.

Although we did discover the secret to my success on Wednesday after our match. It turns out that all I need is a bottle of Lucozade two hours before playing and half a cider just before I play and I can beat Joanna 3-1.

3. Susceptibility to illness.

So recently I've had a cold, a stomach bug and now some nasty cold/flu-like symptoms including headache, sore throat, nausea and fever. I know it could be due to the stress I keep putting myself under by spending too much of my time playing pool, but it's starting to get annoying. I'm hoping on a period of good health to set me up for my week 10 deadline; fingers crossed.

4. Inability to respond to stress until very serious.

I'm not a night-before kind of person. I very rarely write an essay the day before it's due in and my last three assignments before week 8 were all handed in just under 24 hours before deadline. However, Psych 102 for Monday and Psych 101 for Friday were finished at 5am on Monday and Friday respectively. It's still not last-minute per say, they were both ready a good few hours before the deadline and there was even time for sleep while I asked my mum to proofread them before handing in, but it's still not like anything I've ever done before. I used to know a deadline was looming and start writing a week beforehand and keep going at a steady pace until it was done. Both assignments were started early enough but then ignored for too long a period of time until the night before work was necessary and I had to scramble to make up to my word limits while just wanting to go to bed. This kind of thing can't carry on happening and I imagine it can't could have contributed to the scratchiness in my throat and the mild pounding in my head.

5. Relationship status.

And here's the one that makes me look shallow. Of course I'm looking for love, I'm an 18 year old Fresher for God's sake; now is the time if there ever was one. I've pulled twice in clubs this term, but both straight girls, so not really an option for a relationship there. I've never been one for peer pressure, but it seems like everyone else at uni is getting some and I'm not. Maybe I'm a little bit jealous - so shoot me, at least I'll admit to it.

Re: Tattoos

I haven't blogged in over a month, so I decided to do a quick one to fill you in on the flash of inspiration I just had.

As you'll see below, I got a tattoo last month. It's almost totally healed and now I want another one. I was warned this would happen; everyone who has a tattoo says how addictive they are and I have to say I understand what they mean.

I sort of made a decision. I'm slightly sleep deprived so I'm writing it down so I don't forget but also to ask your opinions (even if I don't end up paying attention to them). I think I decided what to get next.

I wrote a poem (I do that: http://dft.ba/-postaboutpoetry) a while ago. Writing is a process that takes me a long time. I write and then I edit and re-write and sometimes I throw everything out and start again. It's torturous. I date my poems so I can remember what stage of my life I was at, but the date included is the date they were first written. If I kept datestamps of revisions I'd have more words in the footer than in the body of the poem.

The only thing that is free of this process in terms of my creativity is this blog. It's written and posted often before I have the chance to subject it to any kind of editing process. I rarely read back a blog post and if I do I tend to change things, which isn't really what I want to do. My blog is supposed to be a raw experience of me and my search for myself - not an edited version of what I think reflects me best.

My Lonely Little Girl carries the datestamp of 24/11/2007. It's almost finished. Or rather it's almost to the point where I would be happy to publish it. Publishing is something that both excites and terrifies me - to share my creativity with the world is always something that I would like to do but at the same time once it's out there in print then no further editing can take place. It's stuck like that. People have already read it as it is and if you change it they'll just get annoyed with you.

If you've read the poem you may have noticed the changes in different versions if I kept you up to date - or notice differences between the version you read and the final version if I didn't. There is a pretty strict rhyme structure which I've agonised over trying to keep while also maintaining good grammar but I think it's almost there.

As you can see from the title, the poem is about a 'lonely little girl', which is all I'm telling you about the poem - you'll have to wait and read it. The idea I had was when I decide that it is finished and have a final version which I will look to get published, I would get a tattoo. Because I'm addicted and because I just had the idea.

A silhouetted figure of a little girl.

A little skirt, pigtails, maybe holding a balloon; I haven't decided on the specifics, I only had the inspiration half an hour ago. I just fell in love with it as an idea. As for the placement, well I haven't decided that yet either. I want to steer clear of my spine for the time being till I'm a little more brave so that puts the original idea of the back of my neck between my shoulders out and I was planning on some angel wings for my shoulders and a song lyric down my spine once I get really addicted.

Specifics and placement need a lot of work, but I just fell in love with the idea.

Let me know what you think if you like. My mum says that when you think about getting a tattoo you should have a reason for getting it. After all they're permanent, and you'd hate to end up regretting it. I've met people who hate to hear the sob story behind a tattoo and find it cheesy, but if it means something to you then you won't regret it. My rosebud is a symbol of me blooming into a new person as I started my new life at uni and my little girl will tie in with my poem, and the first one I have published (fingers crossed).

Then there's the angel wings so I can fly and be whatever I want to be, the lyric 'time will be the judge of all here' which is a message I try to live by and the fully opened rose above the rosebud that's already there to signal the end of my stay at uni - although those three are in the future.

I already catalogue my life with my poetry, but there's no reason not to have two records of the same thing.

Sickness and Health

I got a tattoo. I said I would and I did it.It's a rosebud, in orange, on my lower calf/upper ankle. It was really pretty when it was first done and it'll be really pretty when it's healed.

However, it isn't pretty now.

It appears to be leaking orange ink. I have asked a few people who also said that their ink started to leak for the first few days and my dad said something about them putting in too much colour to cover against things like this happening.

I've never had a tattoo be

fore, I don't know if this is something to worry about. My mum has one but her's is on her shoulder so she wouldn't have noticed so much and my dad has two but had them so long ago he doesn't remember. I'm not entirely sure what to do.

I had a similar issue when I had a nasty cold at uni. I've had colds before, but I've never been sick on my own before. I've always had my mum to stroke my hair and give me medicine and fetch me water, but most of all to tell me when I need to worry about something.

I had an issue with my throat (I won't give you details because it's kind of gross), and I rang her up before my lecture to check that it was a normal thing that you have during a cold. Perfectly normal, perfectly reasonable reason, and perfectly helpful advice to go to the doctors if it didn't go away.

I got better. It was fine. I have since got sick again, but that's not the point.

Anyway, the tattoo doesn't hurt anymore and seems to have stopped leaking ink. However, it has started itching, which is both good and bad.

Good because apparently this means it's healing, but bad because it's really freaking itchy.

Ho Ho Happy Holidays.

(I sound like I'm trying not be offensive by not using the word Christmas. This is not the case, I just liked the alliteration. I'm not Christian and I'm not offended, so please get over yourself).

Christmas happened. It tends to do that, roughly the same time every year in fact. And we all seem to have roughly the same thing to do every year.

Most families have some sort of tradition. My best friend has Christmas dinner on boxing day and I've known people who celebrate on Christmas Eve before now (which I know is what a lot of Scandinavians do).

We do it on Christmas Day, as I know most people do. We get up a little too early after not quite enough sleep and open presents in our 4 piece family. There are thank yous and hugs, the occasional happy tear (usually my mum) and there is always a mess of wrapping paper; no matter how hard you try to clear it up. Then at a more reasonable time we head over to my grandparents' house for more presents and a delicious Christmas roast cooked by my nan and then home for Doctor Who.

We always say God help my mother when she has to cook a Christmas dinner, because she went straight from dinner with her family to dinner with my Dad's family. She can make a cracking roast, so it probably won't be much of a problem, but she hasn't ever done it on Christmas Day before.

Now it's New Year 2011 and I suppose I'll let you in on my new years' resolutions. Truth be told I've never been one to keep new years' resolutions so most of the time I don't bother making them - except the one year I made the paradoxical resolution to break my new years' resolution. I just don't see the point in putting all these restraints on yourself in January that will be long gone by February. The whole idea of new years' resolutions is that people pledge to do things that they probably won't be able to do and then they don't feel bad when they break them because everyone else breaks theirs as well. The system is set up to fail.

Which is why I did 365 days in 30 ways. I pledged in October to do 30 things that involve changing aspects of my life within a year. So far I'm doing okay with it.

My mum posted a blog post on http://faerieimportantstuff.blogspot.com/ where she talks about disliking new years' resolutions and you should all go and read that. I had the same idea as her at the same time as her and she just got there first. If I wasn't setting this to post exactly as the new year rolls in I could fiddle with the timestamps to make it look like I did it first, but that would be a little bit mean wouldn't it?

However, I do have a new years' resolution. I am stopping drinking little and often and starting drinking a lot in one go every now and then.

All the best for 2011 for you all, and we shall continue the search for Mini into the new year and beyond.