Bes Bes Bes.

What a weekend.

Friday signified the end of "East". It went so well. We had to bring in extra chairs, we had to turn people away, people stood for the entire performance. It was very humbling and appreciated and just plain wonderful. We tried to go out afterwards but tired, fainty Ruth appeared and was taken for some dirty chicken/pidgeon and then went to bed. I am absolutely going to do a purely East inspired blog soon.

Woke up in tears. Constant tears for about 6 hours. Constantly. It was ridiculous.
And I think it was because it really did mean the beginning of the end. That would be, the way I was thinking about it at the time, the very last play I was ever going to be in. It wasn't just an end of univsersity plays but all the drama I have ever done ever, this seemed to represent the end of all of it. The end of uni life and everything about it that I love so much.
And that was just too sad.

So we had a party. Just a little party with just the right people and just the right amount of vodka to numb the tear ducts. And a very interesting discussion with a friend of mine who just brought up the idea of a Masters.
Following on from this insightful discussion, I am going to apply for a Masters. Part time or full time hasn't been decided yet but I am going to apply and if I don't get it then fine, if I do get it and want it then wonderful, if I do get it and don't want it then I can defer or just say no thank you very much.
I just feel like I still have a lot I want to do. I want to go for president of PhilSoc and LUDS.
If anyone in the world has an opinion about this, preferably constructive, then please feel free to leave comments. Advice is sorely needed.

Sunday was a day for the boys. Mathew had been to 2/3 nights of my play and so I went with him to my lovely new found friend Bes' house to watch 2 (!) games of football. We ate, we sat and we watched.
Mathew and I returned back to the homestead for glorious amounts of wine consumption, cockney singing around the table, the introduction of the Masters idea and lamb.
And then and then and tthhhheeeeennnn....
We returned. At midnight. To the house of Bes. For Wrestlemania. Until 4.30 in the morning.
Absolutely bloody ridiculous. But sleepy and fun. It was just relaxed and easy and I really enjoyed myself.

And then yesterday, the disseration work began. I am still on the reading stage and I feel like this is fine, I am happily plodding along, reading for as long as physically possible so it means I don't actually have to write anything at all.

I don 't much like these diary-like blogs. I think they might be quite boring and long and just a little too self-indulgent. I love me me me!

last night.

i do not want this to end.

tonight tonight tonight.

the play is tonight tonight tonight tonight tonight.

even as I type, it has definitely not sunk in that the play is tonight.

tonight tonight tonight tonight.

nope, still not there.

I SO want people to come and see it. I want to show it off, I feel like it is our very gorgeous/filthy baby that I want everyone to come and see.

Toffee Crisp

Faith in humanity has been somewhat restored after the man in the library realised I was freezing because of his open window and shut it for me.

Simple things.

Quiet weekend of library, an absolute lack of food in my fridge/freezer/cupboards which has involved me substituting meals for Lucozade again and actually sitting down. Sitting down and watching shit on TV with my boyfriend, who I haven't seen, despite living in the room next to him, for about a week. And going to bed by 11.30. Yummy.

All to take my mind off the fact that my very last essays potentially ever are in this week and so far, they sound as if they could have been written by a 5 year old.

AND the play this week. Which is stressing me out as well because I seem more worried about that going well than my essays. Which makes me more stressed.

And so I am, in fact, a bundle of stress. But a quiet bundle. Sleep has helped in a massive way, there have been no spontaneous crying fits today ...yet.

Lullabye.

"The nicest thing for me is sleep, then at least I can dream."

I am really tired. And disgustingly unproductive. Two essays in for Wednesday, one half written, the other not started.

Everyone else seems to be finishing up for Easter and I still have one crazy busy week left which includes going to uni, handing my very last ever bastard essays in and on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, it will be "East".

I want to talk more about everything but yet again, I just feel too stupid and tired.

Tomorrow is going to have to be a library day.

"Need you like water in my lungs."

right this second, booking a holiday which takes me away for the entirety of Easter doesn't seem like such an unattractive prospect.

*these photos would also include a photo of Lauren BUT she NEVER gives me her bloody photo!

i miss these wonderful girls. i cannot wait until Easter and we can just sit and play all day long.

no awkwardness, no effort, no change.

i love them very much and miss them terribly.

"I absolutely cannot wait to see all my lovely friends on Saturday where it does not matter if we are 14 or 40, I really think that these will be the people around for life." ♥

Letter.

Dear Plotinus,

You are just another stupid man who wants to ruin my life. You lead me in, you make me think I understand you and your philosophical ways and then you just drop me. No one likes you. No one wants to write relevant secondary literature about the soul being divisible AND indivisible. Because of you, my life is difficult right now. I was really growing quite fond of you but it turns out you are just like all the rest. I gave up Heidegger for you.

jumping out of window...

Say hello to the most wonderful flyer for a play you have ever seen.

I just think it is absolutely brilliant.

The sad cloud has returned along with a feeling of lethargy and general moping. Oh, accompanied also by the apparent need to eat everything in front of me. I am one huge carb.

I have lots I actually want to blog about. But not today because today is shit. And I tried to make the blog pretty but got lost in a world of html and things I don't understand and so leaving it plain and big and boring. *insert comment about how self is like blog...*

Choo Choo Train.

I went to see Frightened Rabbit on Friday. And without a doubt, it was one of the very best gigs I have ever been to.

I love The Midnight Organ Fight, it was one of my favourite albums last year and such a wonderful album to listen to over and over again. They played quite a number of new songs from their new album, The Winter of Mixed Drinks, which I think is a brilliant album title but as of yet, I have not fallen head over heels in love for this album as I did the last. The last album was about break ups and dysfunctional relationships and the awful pain we put ourselves through in the name of love.

The new album seems happier, less raw and although I appreciate they are progressing as a band, finding their place in the main stream etc, I loved them when they broke my heart and made me cry.

Which they did on Friday. Never before (oh no, not even Robbie Williams!) have I cried mid-gig but after they absolutely belted out classics such as Modern Leper and My Backwards Walk which had the audience dancing and singing in delight, the absolutely amazingly fantastical one of the very saddest songs ever Poke was played as part of their encore trilogy. And it just touched a nerve, the contrast between their songs was just too much and tears did flow.

The audience loved it so they loved playing and they loved playing so the audience loved it.

It was so refreshing to go and see a band who loved their audience, they were humble and appreciative and it was an absolute pleasure to watch them play.

I quite often think that you can judge how good a gig has been by the effect the music has on you when you listen to it afterwards. And oh my, hello tingles and smiles!

Skip the youth.

it is actually proportionate.

the amount of work I have to do increases and in direct correlation, the love and obsession I have with bloody puppies increases.

All I want is a wonderful, tiny puppy that grows up to be a wonderful, tiny dog.

Puppies of choice at the moment....

The beautiful little Maltese...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zB-FR4Um6j0&feature=player_embedded

OR

Lovely little Morkies...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgKYqKTBR7Y

(videos stolen from youtube...)

Lord knows how this obsession will grow, I think Mathew will have to restrain me from actually buying one and hiding it in my cupboard...or teacups....

colour catchers.

colour catchers. that is what I am doing with my night. Experimenting with the joys of a washing machine which is in love with ripping all of the colour out of my most precious garments and making them all a very ugly blue/grey shade of gross.


I am engulfed in uni work. Bad week in uni, no one speaks in seminars, through utter confusion and true intimidation of the texts we are trying to battle through. Struggle struggle struggle.

East is only 3 weeks away. Oh MY. I know it will be brilliant, I really think it will, the script is just so good and our director is very focused.
Just have to tackle that 4 page monologue which I have been avoiding...

This is the quote which I am using at the beginning of my dissertation (which is still at a word count of 0/10000). I really love it and I am enjoying starting my reading for the D-Word. It is from a little Sherlock Holmes story called The Cardboard Box and goes as follows...

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF IT, WATSON?” SAID HOLMES, SOLEMNLY, AS HE LAID DOWN THE PAPER. “WHAT OBJECT IS SERVED BY THIS CIRCLE OF MISERY AND VIOLENCE AND FEAR? IT MUST TEND TO SOME END, OR ELSE OUR UNIVERSE IS RULED BY CHANCE, WHICH IS UNTHINKABLE. BUT WHAT END? THERE IS THE GREAT STANDING PERENNIAL PROBLEM TO WHICH HUMAN REASON IS AS FAR FROM AN ANSWER AS EVER.

Very true. And somehow I don't feel like my dissertation will bring me any closer to the answer either...