would you rather get married or lick a tramp?

I often start a blog post with no intent and no idea where it will take me. This is one of those occasions. My mum's come back, so the house has a miserable air. I'm glad I'm only going to be here for a couple more days. She does have her uses though, having just removed a monster earwig from the kitchen for me. I've always hated the vile little things ever since I found one hanging out of my finger a few years back. Grim.

According to the Guardian, Warwick is now second only to Oxford and Cambridge in excellence. This means I will be even more gutted when I fail to make the cut in just over a month.

Also according to the Guardian, one in five of those in a relationship claim to be in love with a third party. The article then goes on to dismiss these feelings as misdirected lust and rather self-righteously explain where these poor, misguided romantics went wrong in their relationships, even stating that they have never known love at all. Of course, just because I think the journalist in question sounds like a bit of a ponse, doesn't mean I disagree with her.

Now, I may be about as cynical as they come. When people ask me why I don't have a boyfriend, I scoff and say something derisive about men, cite my insane independence and say something wry about my general contempt for society. I make no secret of the fact that I don't believe in marriage. I have completely perfected my ''can't argue with the statistics'' argument, and though I try to be supportive to those of my friends who have chosen to get engaged at the ripe old age of eighteen, I can't help but be pessimistic. It's just my nature, I've never been mushy. And when yet another person blames my attitudes to all this crap on the "hard time" I've supposedly had in life, inside I am screaming that I would have been like this anyway! That's what I let myself think.

I think at the end of the day, it's all about what makes us happy. I am perfectly content with the idea of being married to literature and music and goats' cheese. I'm not saying this won't change, but for now I'm dangerously close to the terrifying precipice that is happiness, and I find it disconcerting. After all, youth is supposed to centre itself around self-obsessed angst, isn't it? Meanwhile, the label of a slightly damaged , hostile girl has been working just fine for me, and I will think very carefully before ditching it.

detergent days...

The rain just started slamming down in noisy splats which makes the fact that I have been doing load upon load of washing today seem a little less pathetic. Today is the dreaded day of my mother's return, and as a result, everyone's a little bit stressed out. My sister and her bloke have resolved this stress by taking the dog for a walk (to the pub), while I am sitting with my laptop procrastinating. Youtube appears to be struggling somewhat today so I'm left with the Guardian website and (fully aware that I am becoming a broken record) the brilliant Grey's Anatomy. This blog is also a definite form of procrastination, but somehow it's not as bad as watching Countdown. Which I am certainly not doing.

It's working again now...

I leave for my grand European adventure a week today and I'm feeling distinctly unprepared. I have bought suncream and facewipes. Perhaps some more effort is required. This website will get me through. And books. Books will help...

don't be obscene, i can't conceive of living without you

I've always had slightly rubbish ears and at this moment, I think my right one might be falling off. Ear infections are such fun. Not content with simply being grumpy and sad, I decided to write a blog post to share my melancholy with my 2.4 readers.

Did I mention that I'm sad. Cheer me up please?

a not-so helpless world...

So it's been a while since I've actually dared to write about anything serious. But (thinking you might be a bit fed up with accounts of my mundane life), I thought it was probably time.

The world is a bit shit. When opening a newspaper, it is easy to be overwhelmed by all the terrible things happening. Civilians are slaughtered in wars they can neither understand nor support, young men are sent to the gallows for falling in love with one another, HIV tears communities apart. The world reeks of unjust death and there are so many causes we feel we should support. Palestine, Nigeria, Burma. It will never be possible to protest against every tyrant, every mass killing, every dose of oppression. So how do we choose the ones we take interest in and those we let slip by? Obviously the press has almost unlimited power when it comes to bringing selective suffering to our attention; while the death of every British man killed in Afghanistan is reported (and not unjustly), if every civilian death from the same war was mourned in such a way, there would never be time for any other news items. To the media, local lives lost are worth far more than their faceless counterparts.

And even when we take an interest in this seemingly unstoppable suffering, if we wish to continue our middle class, comfortable existence, we are really powerless to stop it. Is it worse to know these horrible things are going on and do nothing about it, or be ignorant to it? Ignorance is bliss, but surely an indifference to the plight of mankind is one step away from condoning it? I just hate this helpless feeling.

Just so I don't explode with the injustice of it all, I tend to take interest in just a couple of these causes at once. Recently, I've been reading a lot about the situation in Iran. I won't turn this into another of my feminist rants, although it would be so easy. Let's just say that women are caught up in a system steeped in oppression and regressive laws. It's easy to say that this nation is too far gone to be helped; to help itself. When I watched this film however; the film the Iranian authorities tried to conceal from its people, I couldn't help but feel that Iran is far from doomed.

There is a somewhat stifled revolution taking place; a challenge to a corrupt government, a yearning for peace. Unfortunately, this uprising has been greeted with shocking violence. The striking image of the beautiful Neda Agha-Soltan's blood streaked face as she died at the hands of the Iranian regime was the reason I, and millions of others began to understand the severity of the problem. The film is brilliant, and I urge you to watch it (not least for the amazing voice of Shohreh Aghdashloo who narrates and who also starred in a recent episode of The Simpsons).

For me, the important thing is that in the face of violent militarism, the people of Iran are beginning to revolt. It's not like these things can be resolved in a couple of years, but I firmly believe that Iran will come out of the darkness in time. If only the years in between could be more peaceful than those preceding them.

a bit Grey...

It's one in the morning. I've been eating insanely healthily over the past couple of weeks because my mum isn't present. I just rebelled by eating a Pot Noodle. It was disgustingly brilliant and now I'm going to be healthy again.

I'm still very much powerless to escape the clutches of Grey's Anatomy. I really don't understand where my obsession with American hospital dramas came from, but it's definitely not budging. I was determined to be a doctor when I was young, it's probably that. Then I set foot in a hospital and realised that they actually weren't that pleasant. Nevertheless, when doctors are portrayed by men with great hair and women dripping with sarcasm, I can't resist. I cried a total of three times yesterday; an emotional rollercoaster full of senile mothers and severed penises, quintuplets and adultery, miscarriages and pus. I'm now watching QI for a bit of British normality; just in case I wake up in the morning under the delusion that I am a shit-hot surgeon with cheekbones that could cut cheese.

I probably need to go out tomorrow...

hopelandic ♥

The last few days of utter solitude have taught me something very important. When I (hopefully) leave in October, I'm never coming back. I don't care if I have to demonstrate my rights as a squatter, or share a flat with someone who smells of mothballs, because you know what? Living alone rules and I'm a nicer person when I don't have to contend with my impossible mother.

And the ironic thing is, the grinding, tedious chores of which I never usually hear the end become simple and undaunting. Today I cleaned the kitchen! And I washed up, cooked, sorted washing, watered the plants and did some ironing. All of these things became almost enjoyable when blasting a soundtrack my mum would usually call 'mindless durge' or 'suicidal droning' and dancing like an arthritic grandpa. Plus I can sit wrapped in a duvet watching Grey's Anatomy all day, learning how to conjugate Swedish verbs from the subtitles if I so choose (which I invariably do). Life just becomes simpler, quieter and much more enjoyable, so I will try my absolute hardest to make sure I return as seldom as possible.

I know I'm a bit late on the bandwagon, but Sigur Ros are now filling my days quite nicely with their devastatingly beautiful melodies. And everything just sounds better in what has been christened 'Hopelandic', doesn't it?

Finally, I have a vague memory of Sarah Dixon and her mother telling me determinedly in the car once how funny the BBC sit-com 'Miranda' is. I brushed off their comments (Sarah has a very odd sense of humour) but was put in my place when I caught it on iPlayer about six months ago. No, it's not that clever, nor will it win a bundle of awards any time soon, but it is the only thing that can make me cackle like a pantomime baddie, and that's got to be worth something. Anyway, the good news is that the lovely BBC are reshowing series one again. Give it a chance? She's a genuinely funny lady...

lost in boxsets...

My mother has just departed for a fortnight in Turkey and my sister's just arrived in Bruges. Now as much as I love solitude, being stuck in Wolverley without a car pretty much sucks. I've passed the day stirfrying various vegetables and delving into Postsecret archives; all in all, pretty depressing.

I need a hobby or a pastime. Something to pass the time other than reading and staring at various screens. Unless power napping counts as a hobby. No?... I've had various commitments in my life, but I'm a bit of a quitter and they all seem to have faded into nothingness. I danced for years, but had no coordination. I played trumpet, but had no musical ability. I helped at Brownies, but stopped due to my general contempt of children; girls in particular. Yesterday I dug out my paints, but then realised why I only got a B for art GCSE. When you build your life around being a nerd, the summer holidays tend to be a bit of a disappointment, particularly when most of your friends live in awkward places like Clent or deepest, darkest Black Country; a good half an hour away. By car. So that's irrelevant.

So tomorrow I'm going for a run. Or a walk with sporadic bursts of lethargic jogging. This means I have to find some trainers (I'm not even sure I own anything other than impractical, canvas flats) and some tracksuit bottoms (I'm a skirt girl). I also have to find a way to overcome my complete lack of fitness. Baby steps...

I'm also going to Worcester in the afternoon to see my good friends the Haworths (my ex-vicar and family) and have tea, chillax by the river, etc. I might even squeeze in a sneaky trip to Accessorize... It'll be lovely to see them because it's been months and while I used to practically live in the Vicarage, since they moved, I really haven't made enough of an effort. Plus it will be nice to see some human beings who neither live in Wolverley or compete at Wimbledon...

I go away on my beastly trip in three weeks and I seem to own no summer clothes. Probably time to get on that...

I won't say I like Tomas Berdych because so far this seems to have jinxed my favourites (Federer, Djocovic, Jankovic, etc), but I have provided a picture so you can work it out for yourselves. His eyes are VERY blue...