What a guy!

Is it strange that I'm in love with a guy who died in 1998? If you don't know who this is, shame on you and your family! But its ok, I will educate you in the ways of the wonderful Frank Sinatra. This is he. Born in 1915 died in 1998 and lives on forever. He sang songs such as Chicago, When you're smiling, Come fly with me to name a few. These were the days when music was clean and actually worthy of 10 weeks at number one on the charts. Unlike now a days where people (Taio Cruz) are allowed to make ridiculous songs such as take a dirty picture. As rightly pointed on a fellow bloggers blog (Why write). What has the world come to?

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What I do in my spare time.

What a life.

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Is it weird that I like guys who wear eyelinear?

Is it weird that I like guys who wear eye linear? Not that I've met any recently unless you count the guys that I've seen perform during Easter. But we can hardly count them. Everybody knows that men who dance (especially in this type) are gay. That is why women trust them so much. By allowing them to thrown us around and lift us in ways that every girl dreams of being man handled by their prince charming. It's because they don't get anything out of it, it’s like the new girl friend.

Sometimes I really have to question the motives of the gay friend. Are they like one of the girls? Or are they in reality just like every other bum out there?

Since coming to university I've had to leave my dance life behind however whenever I go home I try and keep in contact with my dance people. My dance classes are situated in an area where everyone knows each other and everyone is linked to one and another through someone or something. And as a result of this I have become friends with many people who go to the same high school and know the same people that I went to primary school with. (I know this through the power of Facebook stalking). However I would never admit to it because then what I do in my spare time would be revealed, as in falking (facebook stalking) and dancing. It's not that I don't want people to know that I dance, it's just that dance to me is a very personal thing. I feel that I turn in to someone else when I dance. Someone that I myself doesn't even know, let alone anyone else but that is a conversation for another time.

Any ways back to it, during Easter I became very involved in helping out at a dance festival where I met all my old dancing friends through who I met a new male dancer. For conversation purposes let’s call him Water. Before I go any further I would like to stress that coming across males that are interested in the world of dance is like a coming across a fifty pound note in the street. It happens very rarely and not to everybody. So when you do come across someone you grab them as if it were the last slice of cake in the canteen at a fat people's camp. And this is what my dance teacher has done.

Right, so Water is your typical gay guy; loud, funny, a hit with chicks (because we don't see him as a threat), over expressive you get the idea. A few weeks ago I had a Facebook chat conversation with an old school friend, let’s call him Orange. Orange was the type of guy who I would have spoken to when we were in school but after we left we would just give each other awkward glances on the bus trying to avoid eye contact yet intrigued by what the world has made of one and other. You know like you do with most of the people from primary school. Too frightened to talk to them in case they don't remember your name yet not scared enough to look away.

So yes, in this conversation we established:

1. I 'couldn't even say hi when' I saw him on the bus. I'm sorry. Are you that retarded that you couldn't pluck up the courage to say 'hi' either? Are you that pathetic (as a man) that you have to talk to me over facebook chat? And any ways I wouldn't want people to think that we knew each other. This probably sounds terrible but I don't want to be associated with guys who rape girls with their eyes as they are on the bus on the way to school at 8.30 AM (I stress the AM, that's morning dick head) blasting reggae from their Nokia handset. Especially when they are clearly not Jamaican yet still insist on talking to other equally non Jamaican friends in Jamaican in a very bad (might I add) Jamaican accent. Honestly I would have more respect for him if he was playing Pussycat Dolls and A.R. Rahman's Jai Ho at least you could try and say that this has some type of link to your Indian heritage.

2. He still lives at home. Fair play there's nothing wrong with that but I just need to make up points because there is no need in numbering if there are two points.

3. Just as he was saying bye (on the book of faces) with all the 'take cares' and 'talk to you soon' 's he slides in 'I will always remember you as my first crush'. What a loser! What is wrong with him, where did he think he was going with that? I'm not going to lie, I was a bit flattered but seriously come on dude! Is he trying to be funny?

Where am I going with this you ask, I'm coming to it. Right so by a not so strange turn of events, it turns out that Orange and Milk knows each other. But to be fair that doesn't really bother me, I mean everyone lives in each other’s pockets. But what did bother me was that Orange told Milk that I was apparently his first crush, what the hell! You don't tell people that kind of stuff, no one wants to know that shit! Any ways being the type of person I am, I brushed it off and thought nothing of it until yesterday.

Yesterday I was talking to Milk over BBM when he asked me if I had anyone that I had my eye on. As you may have gathered from my previous post I’m in a relationship but we're seeing how it goes so I don't particularly want to broadcast it to the world and his friends. So casually I said no and asked him he did to which he had a rant about men not knowing what they want (you're telling me). So as I was just getting in to the conversation he slid in why don't I just go out with Orange. Now at this point I’m just like what the hell, I barely even know Milk for him to be setting me up especially when I know about the type of guy Orange is. So I just told him that I’m not in to the whole long distance relationship thing just so that he would drop it.

But it really made me wonder about the gay guy, who's side is he on really? And should we really trust him as much as we would trust a girlfriend or is he just always going to be another one of the guys?

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The often missed view from my window.

This is the result of staying up all night in catered accommodation waiting eagerly for breakfast to served, for the first time in many years I saw the sun rise over Pollock Halls. I think at this moment in time I was the only person out of approximately 800 people (don't be fooled by the fact that i do maths does not mean I can approximate accurately, if there is such a thing) to be gazing out of their window in an north easterly direction. Just thought that this should be shared.

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Only in halls.

Only in halls...

Only in halls is where everyone is linked to each other via kissing

Only in halls is where people will run around naked in the hope of being chased by security whilst completely sober.

Only in halls is where you can hear the person living underneath you having sex.

Only in halls is where someone will leave a bin full of water leaned against your door so that when you open the door it looks like a tsunami hit your room.

Only in halls is when two people are having sex and a bunch of boys will run in the room throwing everything around and leave.

Only in halls is where you will find boxers hung up in the entrance to the house with the names of the two people who hooked up the previous night.

Only in halls is where you have to run from the shower to your room in the hope of not getting seen by anyone.

Only in halls is where you can play bop it until 4am.

Only in halls is where a group of church go-ers will catch you when you have just come out of the shower.

Only in halls is where it becomes normal to walk in on people having sex.

Only in halls is where you walk in on two people having sex whilst the person’s room it is is passed out on the floor.

Only in halls is where you can wake up to find out that someone has thrown up in your pantry.

Only in halls is where you have a pantry.

Only in halls is where the first time you meet someone they are completely wasted and trying to ‘superman through a window’.

Only in halls is where you will get cello taped to a chair and left there.

Only in halls is where you will come back to your room to find that everything has been removed and scattered around the rest of the buildings.

Only in halls is where you think you’re turning into an alcoholic only to find fifty other people doing the exact same thing.

And this is why you should live in halls.

Is there more to life?

Is there more to life? I often feel that the life that we lead is set out for us, a revised journey that 90% of the human race takes but only that special 10% actually manage to escape. I mean from birth we are pushed into doing things in a particular way, behaving in a certain manner, going through certain stages that everyone goes through. But when is enough enough?

I’ve personally never been one to listen to my parents, I liked to take things in my own hands from a very young age, or so I thought. Is it just that my decisions agreed with their own little plan for me? I suppose nearly everybody goes through it, leave primary school to go to high school to go to college to go to university to get job but what if in reality I said NO! and at the age of 12 decided to stay at home doing something completely different such as specialising in Swahili and African culture and then at the age of 16 decided to get a job. I highly doubt that my parents would agree with my life’s decisions then and that society would accept me with open arms. I mean it’s hard enough to get a job going through the steps; getting decent gcse’s and alevels and actually getting in to university doing a half decent degree and yet I am the most UNEMPLOYABLE person that there seems to be! For the love of god I even applied to do a one off picking up litter job at an exhibition just to earn a bit extra but no, not that I’m bitter or anything. In fact damn straight I’m bitter, but it really makes me question the ‘my way or the highway’ attitude of ‘the system’.

Not only in education or getting a job is society set out for us, from every day decisions from how you dress to how you travel. Is society so superficial that wearing something completely out of the ordinary, being different is frowned up on? I feel that every girl my age is conditioned into believing that wearing skinny jeans and a cardigan combined with UGG boots and GHD’ed straight hair is the way to be socially accepted. Don’t get me wrong I also wear this exact combination but one can ask has it gone too far? I mean today as I was walking home from lectures I saw three girls that were literally half the size of me but had more make up on than me and my friend combined. Where did their childhood go? Just to think I only started wearing make up properly when I was around 17 if even that 6 months. Prior to that my best bet is that I was jumping on a trampoline with my best friend squawking pretending to be crows. Fair play, a bit immature we might have been but it was worth it. It’s not only children who are changing, since arriving to university I have come in contact with the opposite sex, like we do. This is a new experience for me as prior to university I attended an all girls college and high school. Ok, I’m exaggerating slightly I knew a few guys, the ones who attended my tutor group but they were too afraid to make eye contact with me let alone speak to me but that’s a different story for another time. But yes, men, I have found no less than five boys with straightners. Some of whom own (every girls dream) GHD’s and these are only the ones that I know off. THE DISGRACE! I think so! Whatever happened to the traditional man who well, acted like a MAN! The shock horror that swept across my face when I found this out! Not even I straighten my hair every day, what has the world come to I ask? When men straighten their hair more than women and children wear more make up than the average female owns. What has society done to the youth of today? What have they created? And they wonder why there are less people getting married now a days! It’s because men need to tighten up. And actually behave like men. No, don’t straighten your hair and no don’t use shampoo. Ok use shampoo that’s abit disgusting but DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT CARRY A CHERRY CHAP STICK! Vaseline is ok, but a tub that you hide at the bottom of your bag where no one can see it! The song goes I kissed a GIRL and I liked it, the taste of her cherry chap stick!

Men are just so superficial, I mean don’t get me wrong women are as well (I mean look at the fashion industry and the massive diet market) but at least we admit it! Men, they pretend they’re not but they are, I mean if you’re going to do something do it full heatedly, right? But the difference is that men are superficial in different ways I mean you get two types. The first type being the GHD owning, cherry Chap Stick wearing type and then the second type. This is the type that disgusts me the most, makes me want to get up and throw blunt knives at them in a vertical line down the middle of their body and watch the blood drain from their faces. This is the type who doesn’t take that much care of his appearance, but he does take a little. I mean he’s not like they used to be, I think that time has come and gone. Yes but as I was saying he’s superficial in the way he see’s women, as in examining each female as they walk pass as if they were a piece of meat. A prime example of this was actually the other day; I attended my house ball which was a civilised three course meal, or what I thought was meant to be civilised. Until one of the disgusting beasts says to another as a young lady walks past ‘would you? That one.’ To which the other guy replied ‘you tell me too late, I can only see their asses’ when the first guy said ‘that’s all you need to see’. The anger/disgust I felt flowing through my veins made me want to throw up. I had half a mind to turn around and tell them that the real question was if she would do them, but I decided against it as I had four hours of fun-filled conversation left. How could their mother’s love them, men make me sick. Ok maybe I’m being a bit dramatic or may be its just because I had never been exposed to such animal like behaviour, if so then forgive me for my sheltered up bringing but I’m sorry those guys weren’t exactly Brad Pitt to be judging people based up on their looks alone or the size of their ass! I think we should line up all the men in the world and number them according to their ‘hotness levels’ just to make sure that they know where they stand when it comes to the birds and the bee’s and then see how they feel. A part of me feels sorry for them; I mean their lack of character must be so high that the only way in which they can actually judge people is based on their appearance rather than making a calculated judgment on the individual’s personality or getting to know them. Honestly I would be such a good man.

The fool within me.

So there I am, sitting in my lecture theatre of 150 odd students a very rare occasion at that. Lumped beside a somewhat fashionable girl; you know the type, daddy’s little princess fur coat, designer hand bag, shoes that us mere mortals can only look at through a 5cm thick glass cabinet.

It’s been half way through now just before the 25 minute mark; the point where the lecturers voice becomes a distant mumble as I enter the world of my thoughts, which usually consists of blank nothingness and as a result the expression in my eyes has been described to look like I was about to commit an honour killing. Any ways this is until the deep process of zoning into a better place is disturbed by vibrations on from what seems to be coming from the ground. Looking down I see the girls bag when instantly I inform her that her phone seems to be ringing. As the words left my mouth I realised the vibrations were coming from my pocket, being my own phone ringing. To which I tell her that it was in reality my phone. This pointless story is one of many examples in which I make a fool out of myself on a daily basis.