I am what I am...

CV Updating

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 14:31:38 GMT

I may not like the idea- in fact I’m pretty sure I hate it, but it’s time to grow up. Holding onto to the semi-childhood that being a student entails only works when you’re still a student. A grad student was pushing it and even that’s over. Time to look for a job that involves more brain work and less carrying of heavy plates, time to find some way of supporting myself and my sanity, and move out of my parents’ home.

Time to be an adult.

So this is what the real world looks like... huh.

Sat, 12 Sep 2009 09:07:18 GMT

I'm done. This summer has been spent on two things- working and studying. I have not partied, I've rarely seen friends, and I don't remember the last book I read for pleasure. But the dissertation is in! Now, I can catch up on everything I didn't do this summer.

So... what'd I miss?

in celebration

Tue, 26 May 2009 23:02:01 GMT

see more Funny Graphs

a powerful pile o'knowledge...

Fri, 08 May 2009 13:55:03 GMT

Today's seminar (Western Counter- Terrorism to be specific) marked the last time i shall ever attend class. Twenty or so years later and i'm finally done with academia. I am two exams, one short essay and a dissertation from finishing my MA, none of which require any more class time.

That is actually it. I'm finished.

Huh.

"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”

Mon, 02 Mar 2009 12:28:43 GMT

Apparently, today marks 105 years since the birth of Theodor Geisel (Dr Seuss to you and me). Personally, i missed out on the wonders of Dr Seuss in my own childhood. But one of the great things about having a sibling almost a decade younger than you is that you can relive your childhood through them. So for a good few birthdays and Christmases my brother Jamie got Dr Seuss books from me, and only we were allowed to read them. They were, and still are, the ultimate in bedtime stories.

He still has most of them.

: "I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!”

think but this...

Sat, 07 Feb 2009 16:21:02 GMT

three things that are making my weekend that little bit better:

1. The England- Italy match

2. West Indies - England test series

3. The ducks on the Jubilee campus lake trying to navigate the thawing ice.

Snow. Again. Lovely

Thu, 05 Feb 2009 14:08:57 GMT

I don't mind the snow- honestly, i don't. It (generally) puts people in a good mood, so that all at once you're exchanging smiles and comments with utter strangers, and laughing with friends as they try and pelt you with snow off the bushes and trees (i'm looking at you, Ian!)
I like making snow sculptures, and having class cancelled. I'm even vaguely amused at how our nation's capital apparently grinds to a halt, and Nottingham council scrambles to find inventive replacements for snowploughs (because, after all, who thought we'd need them!)

What i'm not so fond of is the aftermath. The follow-up, if you will. The brown slush that gets EVERYWHERE, and how the snow compacts... and then freezes. And suddenly wading through the snow turns into ice skating without the skates, and remembering balancing skills i haven't used since i went skiing when i was 15.

So, Dear University of Mine, i made it in on Monday to work on my dissertation proposal(even if the library staff all went home at 2- thanks for that). I made it in today for political philosophy- in fact I struggled up and down several steep slopes through the snow that was falling pretty heavily and horizontally. I will NOT be coming to class tomorrow, because the Six Nations starts on Saturday, and i'm pretty sure i won't enjoy it if i've broken my ankle/knee/every bone in my leg.

'Tis the season, after all.

Sat, 13 Dec 2008 23:08:06 GMT

It’s that time of year again: the second weekend before Christmas. All across the country, students are struggling home. I’m not sure what it is exactly that makes the pilgrimage home so monumental just because it’s the end of the winter term, but there it is.

The trains down to London are filled with university students, suitcase in one hand, laptop bag and ticket clutched in the other, wearing their university hoodie with pride. (This is a useful tool to know who your likely allies are in this exodus).
Still, there we all are, entrenched in the seats we reserved three weeks ago, before the money started seriously running out, when the miserable weather was starting to get to us and Christmas was but a hazy dream on the horizon, something to be considered only after we had struggled through the dark month of November, the Month of Deadlines.

Then of course, there is the joy of struggling through London. Yes, St Pancras may be ‘International’ now, and helpfully connected to the King’s Cross Underground stop (no more struggling through the construction sites in the rain!) but that means little, when we who know where we’re going have to contend with the tourists, the day trippers, the people who have little clue where they’re going and seem more than happy to wander aimlessly. It is this slow pace that point them out as ‘Not one of us’ and Londoners and commuters alike look at them with ill-concealed venom and bite our lips to stop from crying out and telling them to “get a bloody move on!” Traversing the city on the Tube with luggage is never fun at the best of times; it’s downright trying on the weekend. And no, we can’t travel home on the Friday evening. Leave before the end of term celebrations? So we pay our penance on the Saturday with heavy heads.

Our migration is set, drilled so deeply into our minds that by now we are automatons and nothing short of free pizza will waylay us. The promise of food we don’t have to cook for ourselves and of central heating that doesn’t rely on a student budget is too strong.

Pilgrimage- a fitting tradition for the Christmas season.

ten days and counting...

Thu, 20 Nov 2008 22:23:21 GMT

I never was very good at November.

October can be brushed aside because of the newness of university schedules, and getting used to living away from home again. And besides, there’s the newness of the crisp autumn air and kicking fallen leaves and remembering where on earth I put my scarves.

But by the time November forces its way in, all the novelty has more than worn off, and the days are substantially shorter. And it’s cold, no disguising that. Bonfire night aside, November is cold and dark and full of deadlines and there seems to be little light at the end of what feels like a very long tunnel. November tends to be when my so-called seasonal affective disorder kicks in- which mostly manifests itself in either sleeping for longer than should be feasible (not getting up until five in the afternoon some days, and I have no idea why) or cabin fever. Suddenly my room, my flat, the city and indeed the whole country seems too small and I spend hours pacing and fidgeting and trying to convince myself not to use my MasterCard to book a flight to New York, Salta, Cape Town… to anywhere but here. I lose contact with the real world in Novembers, fall slightly out of step with the rest of the world. And the act of being ‘Camilla- the coffee loving, sarcastic girl with curiosity coming out of her pores’ gets harder to keep up as I swing between complete apathy and semi-consciousness and the incessant need to get away.

Even this year. with the distractions of concerts and nights out, and visits from friends, and enough schoolwork to keep even me legitimately occupied, I’m still sat here at my desk ignoring the book review that’s due in tomorrow and finding as many ways as I can to distract myself and to STOP THINKING.

So when I tell you that I’m counting down to December, and I say it’s because I can’t wait for carols and baking and midwinter festivities, I’m not entirely lying. But really, I’m counting down the days until I’m out of this gods-forsaken month and into the reprieve that will be December and January. Because come February, I’ll be doing this all over again.

Note to self: fangirl harder

Mon, 10 Nov 2008 22:57:23 GMT

Apparently i've not being trying nearly hard enoough to consider myself a fan of the 'Twilight' series. Just when you thought the Harry Potter fans were intense, along comes : http://cleolinda.livejournal.com/674812.html

Sudden thought...

Thu, 30 Oct 2008 17:18:42 GMT

(This thought was brought to you by my wandering mind whilst reading sarahtales and her (very entertaining, go read) entry on characterisation.)

Is it possible the writers/creators of 'House M.D' had Sherlock Holmes on the brain when they came up with th characters of House and Wilson?

Like i said, just a thought.

ETA: Apparently so, and conciously at that.

conspiring with the Ministry of Weather...

Tue, 28 Oct 2008 02:37:32 GMT

If this weather (sun and bitter cold, and only raining late at night) continues, i'm seriously considering skipping straight past Autumn and into Winter. Who's with me?

This is a tradition i could get used to

Sun, 19 Oct 2008 18:36:27 GMT

Anyone who's ever in the Nottingham area and has a free Sunday afternoon? Go to The Otter Pub in Kegworth. There's great food, better red wine, open fireplaces and a canal. Nuff said.

You just HAD to mention the Great Depression? Really?

Sun, 12 Oct 2008 14:15:58 GMT

(Yes, i've calmed down. No, this changes nothing)

Last night was one of those nights where nothing extraordinary happened, but i still had a great time. Amy was up for the weekend, and so after an afternoon's coffee with Sandy, I met up with Amy and our old housemates- Emily, Freya, and Rachel, at the Ropewalk . These are the girls I lived with in first and second year (some of them anyway- and technically Rach lived next door) and while it seems a bit soon for a reunion and retelling of 'the good old days', that's exactly what it was.

Amy's now working, Rachel is doing a year of social work for her church, Emily is now a fourth year medic, Freya's back from a year in Charleston, SC, and I've been embarking on my MA. All of which was promptly forgotten as we played Trivial Pursuit and curled into the 'walk's oh-so-comfortable sofas. After, Rachel and I walked home through the Park- Lenton's more fashionable neighbour, complete with victorian lamp-posts and houses with three storeys, stained glass and the occasional tennis court. Em, Freya and Amy picked up KatieLloyd from her work, and included a late night McDonalds' run and we carried on the gossip for a couple of hours.

None of this is particularly startling, but it was enough for a really good night. So i'm writing about it here, so when November swings into multi-essay action, the weather's crappy and i don't have time to catch up with anyone, let alone play board games at a bar, I remember that good times do exist, and i need to keep in better contact with my friends.

Not always thicker

Thu, 02 Oct 2008 20:55:07 GMT

(The following is a vent- feel free to ignore.have a nice day.)

Well, it took almost twenty years, but i think i've finally given up. Enough is enough, and this final stunt is but the amazingly-selfish cherry on top of the cake. i don't like feeling this way, and i realise i'm not being totally reasonable, but you can only 'get over it' so many times. This is just going to have to be the proverbial line in the sand, a result of years of trying to make the unworkable work. The realisation that not all battles are winnable nor are all fights worth the fighting. I am so irritated/disappointed/frustrated right now i could scream- probably would if i was home alone.

I hereby throw up my hands in defeat. And, when i've calmed down, i'll eventually be okay with that. Although, Christmas is going to be interesting...

Sat, 27 Sep 2008 22:18:52 GMT

Last Saturday, I joined the convoy. ‘National Duvet Day’, I once heard it called- so called because it’s the Saturday when the UK’s students (most of them, anyway) head off to the various campuses, cars piled high with- among the boxes and suitcases- duvets. The M1 was jam-packed with the students and their parents- and the Watford Gap service station was a veritable rally.

This week, of course, was Freshers’ Week. Although I am now a lofty postgraduate student who looks down on mere first years, and is grateful for the garishly-coloured wrist bands they wear, so I can avoid them (They might tell you that the bands are so you can get into Freshers’ events- we seniors know better).

Still, in between my ‘worldweary-ohsoaboveundergrads’ cursing of their youthful exuberance (I’m going to have the Raleigh Park fight songs stuck in my head for days), I’ve been thinking about my own undergrad degree (I only finished it in June!) and things that I learned in those oh-so-quickly passing three years.
And so…

• There are good friends, close friends, and facebook friends.
• Cereal is a meal at any time
• Cash machines are the devil’s advocate
• Pound coins are like gold dust- but so much better.
• Asleep by 0230 is an early night
• Procrastination is an art form
• A cancelled lecture is almost better than Christmas
• There’s no such thing as the Easter ‘holiday’- merely vacation from campus
• You’ll go to sleep when it’s light and get up when it’s dark, and no one’ll bat an eyelid
• It won’t matter how late your first lecture is- you’ll still sleep through it.
• Every clock on campus shows a different time.
• You can know nothing and ace a test
• You can have more than one home
• Module booklets are worth their weight in gold
• Jeans are acceptable wear for just about every occasion barring grad ball.
• It is in fact possible to write a decent essay after drinking absinthe
• Being a student is more similar to being a kid than you’d suspect - Snowball fights, naps, the occasional tantrum…
• CAFFEINE WITHDRAWAL IS NOT A MYTH

Mon, 18 Aug 2008 23:06:39 GMT

Am i the only one who's a little bit scared by the new Orangina advert?

Oh, for the love of Alice

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 15:04:41 GMT

I can't say i've ever agreed with all of the rabid fans et al who claimed that Stephanie Meyer was the Second Coming of JK Rowling, but i think i've finally found one thing they have in common (apart from Cedric Diggory)- they both fell victim to their fans. And not just the expectations of their readers, but they inevitably let all of the hype and hysteria get to them. and then they had to go and read fanfiction about their own books. :headpalm:

I've just finished Breaking Dawn, and GOOD GRIEF. I liked it and all, but could the thing be anymore like fanfiction?

though at least it wasn't as craptastic as Deathly Hallows.

Wait, it's August???

Fri, 01 Aug 2008 19:28:36 GMT

so apparently i blinked and missed half of July. huh.

So sing "Sussex by the sea"...

Sat, 26 Jul 2008 01:59:13 GMT

At some point i'll get round to writing a post all about my home and why there is something utterly charming about Sussex, and in particular its county towns.

In the meantime, there's something to be said for a city where i can wander round the streets barefoot, silver bells on my anklet jingling, dancing along to my ipod, and still no one bats an eyelash. Damn, but i love Brighton

Sandy is made of win

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 22:25:36 GMT

Now that I’ve slept for more than two hours in a row, and have finished unpacking my car (28 hours later), I’ve realised how amazingly lucky it was that I arrived home in one piece, and not as a traffic item in the Oxfordshire news. Because I attempted that 220 mile, fourish hour drive on barely any sleep at all. WHAT WAS I THINKING?!

I received my marching orders from my mother on Wednesday: I was to report home before 1400 on Friday. After gently pointing out to dear mamma that I wouldn’t receive my dissertation feedback until 1200 and therefore couldn’t get home on time under the current laws of physics, we agreed on Saturday afternoon. At which point I had run out of excuses for avoiding Ocean, the largest student club in Nottingham, and THE place to be on the last night of term (seriously- people who didn’t get up at 6 am on Monday to queue at the SU Box Office start queuing outside the club at around 7pm).

So once more with feeling, and in company with my housemates, I went, I drank lemon drop shots, I danced, I got home around 4 am. Only to be stuck outside my front door as MY KEY WOULD NOT TURN.

Enter Sandy around half four- but her key won’t turn either. So she scales our two metre garden gate to see if any of our windows are open, and we can get in that way. She does this in a silk minidress. And to no avail because we’re all too conscientious to leave windows and doors unlocked at night in Lenton.

Finally, around five, the other housemates roll in and we start throwing out ideas (the idea to break a window with a chair leg was probably due to the sambuca shots, as was calling our landlord.) Eventually, cooler heads (meaning Sandy) prevail and we agree to wait to call until at least seven am, and split to various friends houses to crash for a few hours. Sandy and I, finally warm at The Boys house and curled up in Rob’s room (Rob I should add, is in Windsor taking part in the triathlon- as one does), cat nap until seven, when we proceed to spend the next three hours trying to get hold of our landlord through his wife, who unfortunately doesn’t speak that much English. Six phone calls, three trips back to our still locked house, and desperately wanting food, beds and showers (pretty much in that order), Sandy finally gets hold of the Elusive Landlord, who authorises us to call a locksmith.

I got to bed at 11 am Saturday morning, after roughly two hours sleep while waking up every twenty minutes. Four hours later I was dressed, packed and on the road. :headdesk:

In defence of British Summer

Tue, 10 Jun 2008 17:19:48 GMT

Now, i've done quite a bit of travelling in my 22 years, and so i feel safe in saying that when most people think of England/Britain they think of rain. England, they would have you believe, is cold (but not cold enough to snow) and rainy. As a nice change of pace, London has its fog, but the rest of us have rain all year round, so much so that we flee to other countries in search of sunshine and warmth. And for the record, the floods of last summer, duly reported via CNN, did nothing to help our rep.

And it's simply not fair! I'll admit, it does rain a lot in England, particularly in the ~~fall~~ Autumn (oops), and I'll moan and bitch as much as the next person when it feels like winter will never come to an end. But on a day like today- when the sun is shining, it's warm enough to sit outside but not hot enough that you're crying out for AC, when the evening air is saturated with barbeque smoke and , in this particular case, Otis Reading drifting over from a neighbour's back garden, ... well, it's now i feel sorry for England and her reputation of bad weather, and for my friends in DC who are playing Smithsonian Hopscotch as we speak (in which you dash across the mall in search of the next Airconditioned building).

Yesterday was my birthday and i spent the morning making real lemonade, the afternoon in Wollaton Park sunbathing, eating calippos (sp?) and tossing a ball back on forth, while Curtis Mayfield, Jamiroquai and Bon Jovi wrestled for control of my ipod speakers. In the evening my housemates and I went for dinner and daiquaris in town, revelling in the 'chilled and content' atmospehere that descends upon England during sunny evenings.

And so, i say, there isn't many places i'd prefer to be when English Summer puts her back into it.

Something unpredictable, but in the end it's right...

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 13:49:37 GMT

Technically, i am now a graduand. Exams are over, the dissertation (which nearly killed me, for the record) is handed in and i have it on good authority is at least a 2:1. No more classes, no more seminars, no more hallward study/gossip sessions. Three years, 360 credits and a lot of fun later, and i'm done. (Only not really, because i'll be back for the MA in September- because i apparantly don't know when to quit.)

Grad ball was last night- dinner and drinks, and music and Scott Mills, all set in the grounds of Colwick Hall, former residence of Lord Byron, whom i'm sure would thoroughly approved of the mayhem. And the fact that i survived my stilettos and floor length gown can only be attributed to the fact that the gods were obviously smiling down upon me for once.

So now all that's left is two weeks of lying in the park, or dinners out and girly nights in, followed by ten days in Barbados with family, dashing home in time in order to walk across a platform, bow to a mace (!) and smile prettily. 34 days and counting...

Now, THAT was a weekend

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 23:10:21 GMT

Friday morning I had a wake up call

My brother turned 13. My youngest sibling, the boy who is being brought up by not only our parents, but three opiniated big sisters, is now a teenager. for those of you reading this who knew me at school- the oh-so-adorable rugrat that never kept still? Yeah, him. Glory help us all.

Saturday afternoon I fell victim to a bout of idiocy

four hours into my five hour journey back to Nottingham, i realised i'd left my house keys at home. Cue cursing under my breath in every language i can think of, followed by several calls both home and to friends. Luckily my parents were in London on Sunday, so i could meet them there, even more luckily Lindsey let me crash on her futon for the night.

Saturday evening I had a small revelation- that really should have been pretty obvious

I am still useless at depending on other people. I absolutely suck at it. This is pretty much the reason for the break up of My One Great Romance- arguments aside, I don't understand why people do nice things for me. Something to work at, i suppose. Dissertation, Master's Degree, and my Trust Issues. le sigh.

Saturday's revelation was swiftly followed by Sunday's Thought of the Day

Despite my abysmalness (shut up, it is a word) at letting myself rely on others, my friends are all determined to look after me. Lindsay gave me room and board for a night on less than an hour's notice. Mantha dragged herself out into the snow and the chaos of London when the Olympic Torch is in town just to keep me company for an afternoon, while i waited around to meet my parents. And they wouldn't accept my repeated apologies for taking up their time (and food, in Linds' case. Consider yourself owed several large drinks, chica!)
When i'm not being forgetful to the point of incaution, my friends, particularly those at university, are still determined to take care of me. Amy, blessed girl, patiently listens to anything i care to rant about- parents, work, the latest great book i've read, and then calmly orders me to stop making my nth cup of coffee in favour of actual food. Sandy checks on me periodically to coax me away from my laptop and my room. Last year Freya mothered me, the year before that Jilly did it. So either my friends have all been briefed by my parents, or i'm just really lucky in my friends. Either way, i'm grateful.

And in other news- i am completely head over heels in love with the Twilight books. Damn, but i wish these'd been around when i was 16 and had more time on my hands- sure i managed to read the first two on my myriad of train journeys and coffee shop sitting over the weeked, but the third is sitting on top of my tv, and is likely to stay there for the forseeable future, while i get my assessed seminar and dissertation out of the way. le sigh

Bibliophilic musings

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 18:34:03 GMT

Part of being a university student involves asking deep and often pointless questions (usually when both the questioner and the questionee are drunk, exhausted, or both): "Do you think there's a God?" "Is hoping for World Peace idealistic naivite?" "IS the hokey-cokey really what it's all about?" "Have you ever been in love?"

"I don't think it matters," i'll reply. "Yes, but what's wrong with that?" "Absolutely" And, because i'm irreverent even when drunk and exhausted (some would say, especially then), "I've been in hate, and sometimes i think that's the same thing." Which, I suppose, is a witty enough answer, but it's not the entire truth.

Because, ex-boyfriend aside, i have been in love. i am still. and it waxes and it wanes but i don't think it'll ever truly leave me.

I do. i am one of those people who will spend hours in a bookshop, come away without a single purchase, and still be content for the rest of the day. I get giddy about books. i keep lists of those i want, and of those i need. i search for the perfect story, and when i come close, i will talk about it for days and to anyone who stays still long enough. i envy Beauty not because she has the love of the Beast/Prince but because of the library she acquires with her happily-ever-after. I insist that my castle in the air has a library.

Books are my friends. Stories are worlds to get lost in, adventures to have, lessons to learn. Authors are people to stalk for their next publishing, Amazon a treasure-trove, Waterstones my spiritual home. The British Library is enough to make me light-headed for days. My allowance is spent on books before clothes, before everything but coffee beans. Birthdays are treasured for the book tokens they bequeath.

I read everything. My favourite books range from school stories from the 1930s to adventures novels about Navy Seals. Homer is revered, but then so is Neil Gaiman, and the writers of the Lonely Planet travel guides. Poets, novelists, historians, the people who write the trivia on the back of cereal boxes... anyone who can take my hand and show me a world so compelling that i forget where i am... all are to be honoured, and their offerings to be devoured like a small child does with Easter eggs.

For there is nothing so wonderful as a book.