General Woes of Student Life

Last year we found the most perfect home; a three story converted pub split into two apartments. We were told it would be finished by June 2012. But when I moved in on September 7th, there were several things that still weren't finished. We'd been messed around by the estate agents for so long over summer, so by that point we were hoping it would all be over soon and we could cease contact with them. It's now November and we still don't have a proper entrance to the property, by this I mean- there is a small ally way leading to the gate to our garden with no sign saying that number 53 is in that direction and we have no post box or doorbell (let alone the intercom system we were promised). Although everyone we know is completely jealous of our beautiful hardwood floors, brand new appliances and the sheer size of the place, I just feel like this isn't going to be a good option for next year. I've just been into the estate agents now because apparently we need to pay to book the property for next year, they were supposed to send us a letter, but how the hell would we even receive it? When I went in today, I was told I couldn't pay this booking fee because two of my house mates were in arrears- specifically for £65 each as a deposit on the spare room. I'm pretty sure nobody owes anything as we've all paid the same amounts. I was also told that the reason they hadn't asked the landlord about a letter box or doorbell was because two people were in arrears. What a ridiculous excuse, we haven't had a letter box for two months but they only contacted them this week to say they owed money. I'm at the end of my tether with them and I know my house mates are too. I was also told today that our rent would be increased for next year. Since I get the minimum loan and am paying 1/5 of the rent on the spare room plus £75 per week, I am terrified of running out of money completely and having nothing to live off. I don't really see the need to live in a house bigger than my parents anyway.

Grow up Seatbelt Hands.

I figured that it's about time I started using this blog and tearing myself away from my true blogging love; 'Tumblr'. In all fairness, it's not about blogging anymore, it's practically Instagram for pc. So it's time my blogging grew up a bit and here is where I shall do it.

I'm going to be keeping my tumblr going though, you can find it here

Cultural Exchanges

I attended a poetry reading by Alan Halsey and Geraldine Monk. I have only been to one poetry reading before and that was a forced event as part of GCSE English, so we're talking at least 4 years ago. I actually quite enjoyed this one, despite it being held in a lecture hall that was way too hot for my liking.

Halsey had a very lively approach to live poetry, he read dynamically using his tone of voice and volume to stress certain words and I actually found a lot of his play on words very amusing. It was during Halsey's performance that I fully understood the strong distinction between poetry and prose. I also found it much more entertaining than if I were to read it off a page.

With such a positive start to the hour, I was quite disappointed by the second poet; Geraldine Monk. Perhaps her poems are better off on paper rather than out in the open where her shrill voice pierced my eardrums and distorted the true point of her words.

Casual Response to One of Maria's Emails

The Sun on Sunday

Amidst the wake of the News of the World’s closure due to phone hacking scandals, Murdoch has predictably launched another paper; The Sun on Sunday.

The Sun is the nation’s most popular newspaper with a circulation of almost 2.8 million a day, proving that 5.4% of the nation are absolute morons. I have some respect for Murdoch, after all, he is a phenomenally successful business figure and his enterprise makes millions of pounds per week. That being said, I still think 90% of the journalistic content in his papers is complete rubbish. The articles consist of celebrity gossip which is just not substantial “news” and the writers present their work at an average reading age of 7.

When Murdoch shut down The News of The World, I knew myself it was simply a publicity stunt, trying to show the nation that he was completely against the illegal phone hacking. But his release of The Sun on Sunday reveals otherwise, since he has decided to employ a number of ex-NoTW journalists who are still under investigation for phone hacking.

My advice to you is; don’t buy The Sun, any day of the week.

Counterfire fully support this.

I Never Got That Memo

When did it become socially acceptable to walk up to somebody that you have never spoken to before and grab their arm to examine it? I definitely never got the memo.

 Over the Christmas holidays, I went out in my home city; St Albans. Most people there are vile, posh creatures who have been so protected by their parents that they are utterly shocked by any sort of mildly alternative culture. On re-entering O’Neills bar from my short cigarette break, whisky in hand, a girl from my secondary school approached me. I was immediately offended by the way she stared at me. Then she started talking, and never stopped. After the typically awkward catch up chit-chat where you really don’t care what the other person has to say, she began to talk about (what she called) the holes in my ears. Ear stretching isn’t particularly uncommon. She was absolutely fascinated, but in the rudest possible way. After a few minutes of talking to her, I realised that she had probably never left the city before, she was completely naive, sheltered and just plain stupid. She then noticed the tattoos on my fingers. I knew I was doomed to an eternity of her questioning me. She asked me to show her my other ones, and l, under the influence of alcohol, removed by jacket. Her and her two friends who seemed to have appeared from nowhere grabbed my arms, two of them on one, one on the other. I was appalled, but at the same time, too polite to do much. The ridiculous questions followed;
“When you are old what are you going to do?” She asked.
“I’m going to drink tea and cuddle my cats, what about you?” I responded. She laughed but didn’t even understand.
“Did they hurt?”, Again, I gave a stupid response.
“No they jab a needle into your skin hundreds of times a second but it just tickles and they give you a lolly pop.” This time she laughed nervously. I didn’t want to continue the conversation; I just waited in awkward silence for another ridiculous question. I think the only thing I will ever regret about getting tattoos is how people react to them. When I say people, I don’t mean future employers, police officers or any people of relevance. I mean random people I see in the street or while I’m at work or people I bump into after years of not speaking to them. They say things such as 'You have so many tattoos, how are you going to get a job?' and I just think…. FUCK YOU.

 I didn’t wake up 2 weeks ago and walk into a tattoo studio without a single thought and spend hundreds of pounds on all this. I’ve been doing this for a while and I’ve very carefully thought about what career path I want to take and I honestly do not want to work for anybody who discriminates against tattoos or self expression. I would rather cut off my own arms that work in a constricted, conforming job where I am told what I should look like.

What is most annoying about the people who say these things to me is; who are they to even ask me? They aren’t asking because they care about me. They are asking because they are damn right rude and nosey.